He’d been so sure he’d feel the same deep despair, guilt and pain when Maddy left. Damned if anything ever went as expected.
First, Annie didn’t clam up the way he’d feared. Instead, she’d fussed at him for running her nanny off, until he’d felt lower than pond scum. Second, the guilt he’d expected never came. Instead, frustration ate at his insides until he’d finished off a bottle of antacid tablets in five days.
Third, he’d felt anger. At himself, for lacking the guts to stand up for what he wanted. Then at Maddy, for giving up on him so easily when he got a little bull-headed. And at Sara, for not wanting to live.
He shook aside his jumbled thoughts and eased the truck over to the shoulder of the road near the fence break. After grabbing the wire cutters and a pair of gloves, he headed toward the gaping hole.
How in the hell had this happened? He examined the fence, noticing three strings of rusted barbed wire had all decayed and broken, bringing down a whole section. He returned to the truck for new wire, and after a half hour of twisting and tugging, he’d fixed the fence.
As he stepped back to survey his work, he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. Fifty yards away, Cyclone stood watching.
“Come on, you old bastard. Let’s see if you can get through this.”
Snot hanging from his nose, the bull pawed the ground, snorted, then trotted toward the fence. Every couple of yards the animal picked up speed.
Well, hell. He hadn’t really meant it.
Confident the wire would hold, but not stupid, Jake took several steps back. The bull gained speed, his hooves pounding the dry ground, kicking up clouds of dust.
Because Jake was so sure the bull would lock his legs and skid to a halt, a second passed before he reacted. The beast was twenty feet away before he realized the animal had no intention of stopping. He grabbed his tools and hit the ground running.
He just cleared the front end of the truck, when the bull turned at the last second, preventing himself from being gored by the barbs on the wire. The animal spun in a tight circle, kicking up dirt and grass, flinging his tail high in the air and bellowing something fierce.
Dumbfounded, Jake watched the crazy creature. After thirty seconds the bull settled down and stared at him, large nostrils flaring, white foam drooling from his mouth.
The damn bull was psycho. He should get rid of the animal, but he’d promised the old man he’d bought the ranch from that he wouldn’t put him down. That he’d let him die of natural causes. He figured the bull’s volatile behavior was a way of expressing sorrow at the previous owner’s disappearance.
“Git! Go on, now!” He waved a work glove in the air. Cyclone stared at him for a few seconds, then ambled away, back toward the old oak five hundred yards out. Jake walked a quarter mile in each direction, checking the fence, tightening the places that sagged a little too much.
He was on his way back to the truck, when he noticed Cyclone headed his way again, this time at an easy trot. Jake’s boots cemented to the ground, and he couldn’t have moved if his life depended on it. Dangling from the bull’s mouth, dirty, dingy and torn, was the skirt from Maddy’s wedding gown.
Well, I’ll be.
Cyclone stopped three feet from the fence. Cautiously, Jake moved closer. The animal remained motionless; didn’t even blink. An eerie feeling slithered down Jake’s back. The bull almost seemed to be telling him something. He braced his feet and reached over the fence until he clutched a fistful of the satin material, careful to lock his knees and keep his thigh muscles bunched in readiness should Cyclone toss his head and try to pull him over the fence. Jake gave one firm tug on the material, and to his amazement the bull opened his mouth and let go.
If that don’t beat all.
Jake stepped back, his gaze shifting from the filthy material, covered in bull spit, to the old cantankerous beast with a docile look in his eye. His chest tightened unexpectedly at the feel of the satin material in his hands.
“You think I’m crazy for letting her go, don’t you?”
He remembered the morning he’d found Maddy strung up on the fence line. She’d been something else. All fiery hair and snapping green eyes. He’d barely managed to keep his eyeballs from popping when he saw all that glory hanging out of her dress in front of God and every cowboy within a hundred miles.
His chest rumbled with a silent chuckle. She’d wanted so badly to save her wedding gown. Man, had she been ticked when he’d tugged her right out of the skirt and Cyclone had trotted off with it.
A spasm gripped his chest and the material blurred before his eyes. Damn. He did not need Maddy. He might want her, but he didn’t need her.
He rubbed a hand over his face, cursing the wetness clinging to his fingertips, and took a deep shuddering breath—not an easy thing to do when his chest felt as if it had been split open with an ax. Desperation filled him. The thought of waking up the rest of his days without Maddy to go through life with sent a bolt of pain through his body, so intense it threatened to knock his legs right out from under him.
Deep in his heart, Jake knew Maddy was the one person who could make him whole again. With her love, he could find the courage to let go of the past. With her guidance, he believed he could be the kind of father Annie deserved, the kind of husband Maddy needed, the kind of man he’d always hoped to be.
He remembered Maddy’s words. Was it possible that he hadn’t failed Sara? That she had failed herself? For most of their marriage, he’d been there for his wife, but never once had Sara reached out to him.
Maddy reached out to you. And you sent her away.
He stared down the road. Life was a crapshoot. Who’d have thought going back to his hometown to bury his parents would turn into getting married, buying a ranch and becoming a father to a child who wasn’t his? Who’d have believed he’d wake up one morning and find a bride caught on his barbed-wire fence?
And who’d have figured he’d go and fall in love with that bride? A woman so different from him, yet without her he didn’t feel complete.
There were some things in life he couldn’t control—Sara’s happiness for one. Happiness came from within. Right now, Jake had to admit he wasn’t happy. Not without Maddy in his life. And he was sure she needed him, but not in the way Sara had. All Maddy needed or wanted from him was his love. It couldn’t get any simpler than that.
He glanced down at the cloth, then back at the bull. “Cyclone, if this is your way of telling me what a fool I’ve been, then thank you.” He tossed the material back over the fence. The bull nabbed it with a horn and trotted away.
Jake headed back to the ranch. He and Annie had some talking to do…and then some packing.
Chapter Thirteen
“Jonathon says you’re being unreasonable. That you won’t give him a chance.”
Madeline’s shoulders stiffened at the sound of her father’s voice. She stood in her old bedroom of her father’s home, surrounded by boxes, mounds of clothes, stacks of books, her Andy Warhol painting and other personal items she’d planned to store there until after her and Jonathon’s wedding in November. Had it only been three weeks ago that she’d allowed Jake to run her off the ranch? The end of July was already near, but it seemed as if time had crawled to a stop after she’d returned to Seattle.
“I am not being unreasonable.” A sharp pain clutched her heart at the worn look in her father’s age-weary eyes as he leaned against the wall just inside the door. His rumpled suit and mussed hair gave her pause. She’d never seen her father rumpled before. She wondered if there were problems at the law firm.
“You won’t return his calls, Madeline. That’s not being reasonable. The man is walking around in a daze at the office.”
“Jonathon is a poor loser. He doesn’t like other people calling the shots.”
A grin tugged at the corner of her father’s stern mouth. “Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black?”
She blushed. She shouldn’t have run off at the mouth a
bout Jake sending her packing when she’d arrived home a week ago. No wonder her father thought she was a hypocrite.
“Mind if I come in?”
“Have a seat.” She gestured to the bed. “If you can find one, that is.” She shoved a pile of sweaters out of the way.
For several minutes she sorted her clothes, waiting for her father to say what was on his mind.
He sighed heavily. “You’re just like your mother.”
Madeline’s hands froze as she reached for another box to put books in. Her father never talked about her mother. When she’d been younger, she’d asked questions: What was her mother’s favorite color? Her favorite food? Her favorite movie? Her father had always smiled indulgently, patted her head and told her to go play. Eager now to hear what was on his mind, yet afraid her enthusiasm might scare him off, she settled for a noncommittal shrug. “How so?”
He pointed to the boxes full of books near the window. “She loved books. Any kind. Before you were born, she’d drag me into every antique shop up and down the coast. She’d buy old diaries, how-to books, out-of-date medical manuals.”
The thought of her mother—any woman, for that matter—tugging her stubborn father into dusty, dark antique shops made her smile. “I love books, but I draw the line at reading diaries. I have enough problems of my own. I don’t want to read about someone else’s. Besides, I’d rather believe most people live happy lives.”
Her father stared down at his shoes as if he found the design in the leather stitching fascinating. She studied him with veiled eyes, noting he had more gray hair along the sides and on top than he’d had a few months ago. The crow’s-feet around his eyes were a little deeper, as were the lines alongside his mouth. Still, her father was a handsome, distinguished-looking man. His only problem was that he worked too hard.
“How come you never remarried, Father?”
His head snapped up and he stared at her in stunned surprise. “You dated a few women when I was younger. Wasn’t one of them a lawyer, also? You two would have been a good match.”
He rubbed his forehead and smiled sadly. “I’ve been thinking about this since you came back from Nevada.”
“Thinking about marrying?”
“Thinking I owe you an apology.”
“An apology? For what?” Her father had never apologized for anything in his life.
“For not being a good father all these years.”
Her heart hammered in her chest as she watched her father grow older, more frail, right before her eyes. She set the box she was holding on the floor, then sat beside him on the bed.
“I blamed you for her death those first couple of years. It was wrong, and I’m sure your mother would be awfully upset if she knew how little attention I gave you growing up.” His eyes shimmered with pain. “You look just like her.”
“Oh, Dad.” After a statement like that, calling him “Father” suddenly seemed too stuffy. The little girl inside her broke free, and she flung her arms around his neck, hugging him hard.
“It’s probably difficult to believe, but I was a much different man when I married your mother. Rose was the love of my life. She brought joy and happiness to my world.” He cleared his throat, gazing sightlessly across the room. “She was everything to me, Madeline. My heart and soul. When she died…something inside me died with her. I changed after that. Threw myself into the practice, hoping the pain would go away. It worked during the day. But then I’d come home and see you, and the hurt would start all over. So I stayed late at the office, traveled more often.” His eyes met hers and she sucked in a quiet breath at the tears welling in them.
“It’s okay, Dad.” She squeezed his hand.
He shook his head. “No, it’s not okay, sweetheart. What is it you younger people say? I sucked at being a father?”
Madeline laughed and hugged him again. They sat in companionable silence for a minute, before she asked, “Were you happy that she got pregnant with me?” She held her breath, waiting for an answer. Her birth had caused her mother’s death. Until now she hadn’t realized how important his answer was to her.
For the first time in a long time her father grinned. A wide, open smile that lit up his eyes and made him appear ten years younger. “She was happy. So happy when she found out she was expecting you. She wanted several children, and she would have been a wonderful mother.”
He stared down at his hands, his smile slipping. “How could I not love you? You’re the greatest gift your mother could have given me to remind me of the love we shared for each other.”
Madeline wiped her eyes. They should have had this talk years ago. They might have been so much closer had they shared their feelings.
Her father grasped her hands and held them. “I did you a great disservice, Madeline. The love I felt for your mother was so all-consuming that when she died…well, I didn’t know how to handle my grief. Ignoring you most of the time, instead of being reminded of your mother every time I saw you was easier.”
He brushed a hand down her hair. “Later, when you reached your adult years, the only way I could think to make it up to you was to protect you from ever having to go through what I did with your mother. I thought that if I could keep you from falling in love with a man, I could spare you much pain and hurt.”
“Is that why you encouraged me to date Jonathon?”
He nodded. “I could tell when the two of you were together that you didn’t love him. But he was a bright young man with a promising career ahead of him. It seemed a good match.”
“And now?”
“And now, young lady, the way you’ve been moping around the house reminds me of the way I felt the first time your mother turned me down for a date.”
Madeline laughed. “She turned you down?”
“Right in front of the entire rugby team.” He chuckled, and his eyes sparkled. “Getting your mother to give me a chance took a lot of convincing. But it was love at first sight.”
Madeline sighed. “Yeah, I know the feeling.”
“I was wrong to try to force you to marry Jonathon. Your running off made me realize how lucky and blessed I was to have experienced true love at least once in my life. My time with your mother was short. But some people don’t even get that.”
Her father opened his arms and Madeline leaned in for another hug. “You’re positive you’re in love with this cowboy?”
She sniffed. “Yes, I love the blasted stubborn man.” She lifted her head from his shoulder. “I don’t think I can live without him, Dad.”
He smiled. “If you love this man half as much as I loved your mother, then you have my blessing to go back there and try to change his mind about you.”
Joy burst inside her at his words.
“Your mother made some things for you before you were born. I kept them in a cedar chest. It’s in the attic. She would have liked for you to have had those things when you were younger.” His expression was again sad. “I couldn’t stand having them around, honey. Too many reminders. So I packed them all away.”
“I’m glad you saved them, Dad.”
His face brightened. “I believe there’s a wedding gown in that chest.”
“Good. I’m going to need that gown where I’m going.” The tears started again.
“You’ve never talked about retirement. Would you consider that in the near future?”
He stared out the window across the room. “What would I do with myself if I didn’t have the office to go to every day?”
She squeezed his arm. “You could start doing things men your age do all over the world.”
He smiled. “What sort of things do men my age do?”
“Well, they go fishing. They take their grandchildren to Walt Disney World. They chase after widowed women.”
“Widows!” He shuddered.
“Dad, I know you loved Mom. But she’d never want you to spend your entire life alone. Somewhere out there is a woman who needs you as much as you need her.”
His
eyes softened. “Your mother was a romantic, too. God, but I miss her.” They hugged again, and this time her father didn’t stiffen quite as much as he had earlier. The hugs would get easier with time.
“Dad? I think you’d like Jake. Would you—I mean, do you think you could—”
“When do we leave, honey?”
“PULL OFF OVER HERE, Dad.” Madeline pointed to the side of the road.
Richard Tate guided his daughter’s brand-new Suburban to the shoulder of the deserted Nevada highway, put it in Park, but left the engine on in order to keep the air-conditioning running. It was midmorning, but already the temperature was over ninety degrees.
“This is where you’re going to live, Madeline?”
She smiled at the disbelief in her father’s voice as he stared out the windshield at the vast nothingness spread out before them.
“Isn’t it beautiful? Oh, there’s Cyclone!” The rangy bull stood on the other side of the barbed-wire fence, watching them.
“What is that thing?”
“Jake’s bull. The one that tried to gore me when I couldn’t untangle my dress from the fence.”
Her father looked at her, and she burst out laughing at the incredulous expression on his face. “Do I want to hear about this?”
“Probably not. Needless to say, Jake rescued me in time, and it was all downhill from there for my heart.”
“Well, daughter. What happens now?”
“Now I call in the reinforcements.” Madeline fished her cell phone out of her purse and dialed Ridge City’s only dispatcher. “Hattie, this is Madeline.”
“Well, golly, girl. We’ve been waiting all morning for your call. Where are you?”
“I just pulled off the road by Jake’s property.”
“Same place as before?”
“Same place, same bull.” Even the same day of the week—Friday.
“Okay. I’ll put a call out to Deputy Karl. Then I’ll get ahold of everyone else.”
“Hattie, thanks for all your help.”
“Honey, this town ain’t been the same since you left. We’re glad you’re coming back.”
The Cowboy and the Bride Page 20
