Cowboy Crescendo (Dynasties: The Danforths Book 7)

by Cathleen Galitz

  In all his years, never had he seen a more wary creature than the one presently coaxing music from his son’s chubby little fingers. When the song ended, a metronome on the mantel continued to keep time to the blood throbbing in Toby’s veins. He had faced divorce with the kind of stoic discipline that characterized his ideal of a strong man. Was it possible, he wondered, that he didn’t have to face the rest of his life alone pretending to feel less deeply than he did? Would the words I love you ever come as easily to his lips as to his heart?

  Where words failed both his son and himself, it seemed music had the power to heal. He had read somewhere that music could reach people with cognitive disabilities. Even stroke victims who are unable to speak could sometimes sing the lyrics to familiar songs. Feeling emotionally disabled, Toby worried he could very easily ruin everything by succumbing to the song of his own heart. Standing there as a silent observer, surrounded by a feeling of utter contentment unlike any he’d known before, he longed to ask Heather to marry him.

  He wondered if she would think marriage was tantamount to tying a rock around her own dreams. Heather had confided little about her past to him, and Toby wasn’t one to pry. Still, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to see that she had been badly burned before and was leery of commitment in general. Toby had the feeling that she had one foot inside the threshold of his home and one firmly planted on a racing block outside. The last thing he wanted to do was scare her away.

  Already devastated by his mother’s abandonment, Dylan could ill afford losing the only other woman in his life he had come to trust and love. And Toby didn’t think he could personally withstand losing the woman he had come to need as surely as a man needed air to breathe. He didn’t know exactly when he had fallen in love with her, only that he had fallen hard. Just watching her now evoked such a fierce feeling of possessiveness that it would have scared a lesser man. He most certainly didn’t want it to scare her.

  Toby didn’t know how Heather felt about taking on the responsibilities of instant motherhood. Or giving up her own dreams. Every time he thought about proposing marriage, he heard Sheila’s mocking voice ringing in his ears.

  What woman in her right mind would want to waste her life rotting away in the middle of such a godforsaken wasteland with a man who isn’t smart enough to use his family influence to carve out a nice life for himself in the lap of luxury?

  Sheila certainly had no compunctions about using her pregnancy to trap Toby into marriage. Nor walking away from that marriage once she discovered she would never be able to shape him into the gentleman of leisure that she wanted him to be. There was no doubt that marriage had left a bad taste in Toby’s mouth. He supposed it was only a matter of time before Heather grew tired of the isolation that Sheila claimed would make any woman stir-crazy. And promiscuous if the rumors about his ex were correct.

  In Toby’s mind, it was far better to try out a relationship without a binding ceremony than to risk being so poorly used again.

  So it was guilt, fear and bliss that competed for top billing as both Toby and Heather sorted through their feelings by day. At night the stars collapsed about them as they sought ecstasy in the warm, willing flesh given to two souls desperately seeking a permanent home in each other’s arms. Come the following morning, they politely assured themselves that they were only interested in the moment.

  Secretly they both wanted much, much more.

  “Would you mind taking Dylan into town for his booster shot?” Toby asked Heather over breakfast one morning. “I’d do it myself, but I just got a call that Sun Dancer’s arrival is going to be delayed. I really need to be here to sign the paperwork when he arrives.”

  Sun Dancer was the prize stud upon which Toby was betting a great deal of money to strengthen the bloodlines of his stock. Heather knew the paperwork was merely a front for the real reason he wanted to remain behind. Whatever place she held in Toby’s heart, she suspected his first love would always be horses.

  “Far be it from me to deny one stud the pleasure of welcoming another to his new home,” she quipped. “Besides, it’ll be a nice change to get away from the ranch for the day.”

  Reminded of Sheila’s aversion to ranch life, Toby flinched. “Under any other circumstances, you know that I’d volunteer to go with you.”

  Heather didn’t pick up on the concern in his voice. She was happy to do him the favor and thought nothing more of it. How could she know that any mention of leaving the ranch for a change of pace sent shivers of dread racing through the man she loved? Or that he feared the same pattern of boredom and desertion repeated itself in such an innocuous statement?

  Toby reached in his pocket and pulled out a wad of bills. He peeled off a couple of hundreds off the top and shoved them along with a credit card across the table at her.

  “Why don’t you buy yourself something nice while you’re in town?” he suggested. “Maybe something pretty to wear. Or a piece of jewelry. And don’t forget to stop for ice cream on the way home. Dylan hates shots, and it’d be a treat for him that might help offset his fear of needles.”

  Heather protested his generosity. “There’s nothing I need—and nowhere really to shop for that matter.”

  Toby’s eyes narrowed as he repeated Sheila’s thumbnail description of the nearest town. “Just one cheap discount store and a couple of bars…I suppose it’s not much of a place for a discriminating woman to make her mark on the world.”

  Heather laughed. Marathon shopping had never been her idea of having fun. “Good thing there’s always the shopping channel on TV, then,” she said, making light of his concerns.

  An hour later, she was climbing into Toby’s four-wheel-drive crew cab after securing Dylan in the child seat next to her. Toby put his hands around her waist and helped her up into the vehicle without having to strain himself any. Heather couldn’t refrain from running her hands along the muscles of his arms and letting them rest there.

  “You do look good in a cowboy hat,” she said, ruffling the short hair curling at the base of his neck.

  It amused her that he thought it too long if it reached the top of his collar. Because she thought he had a particularly kissable neck, she would never complain about its length. Toby returned the compliment by taking the hat off his head and placing it on hers. The hatband left a workingman’s mark upon his hair that Heather smoothed out with loving care.

  “You, too,” he murmured and lowered his voice to add, “but you look even better in nothing at all.”

  They kissed. In the background a glorious backdrop of mountains shimmered in the rising heat, and any fears about the future dissipated like a dessert mirage. Heather had grown so used to his mustache that it no longer tickled—any part of her body. She cherished the warmth of his lips upon hers and wouldn’t give up that feeling a second before she had to. Her entire world pivoted around this solid hunk of man. She clung to him as if fearing she might go spinning off into the cosmos if she ever let go.

  In the distance a trailer kicked up a cloud of dust marking Sun Dancer’s arrival. Toby’s eyes lit up. Sighing, Heather glanced at her watch and put the vehicle in gear.

  “I can’t help feeling dwarfed by this monster truck,” she admitted. “I should pack a stepladder so I can get in and out by myself.”

  “A sporty little car just doesn’t have much place on a ranch,” Toby apologized, leaning into the open window and trying to memorize the heavenly smell of the perfume she was wearing. “But if that’s what you want, I’d buy one for you in a heartbeat.”

  Heather laughed and kissed him again before sneaking a peek at Dylan in the seat beside her. The boy didn’t seem in the least traumatized by the affection between them. In fact, he wore a great big grin as he held out his arms and demanded a hug from his father, too. Heather made herself turn away from the poignant scene. It was dangerous to let herself feel like she was a part of a real family.

  Bouncing down the gravel road a few minutes later, Heather reconsidered Toby’s
offer to buy her some new clothes. Perhaps that comment was just his way of letting her know he was tired of seeing her wearing the same few shirts and jeans that comprised the majority of her wardrobe. Feeling far from the glamorous picture of the ex-wife still gracing the top of the piano, she hoped Toby was not embarrassed by her simple attire.

  Or by his relationship with her.

  Ultimately it wasn’t the size of the town that left Heather feeling small but rather the size of the minds that inhabited it. Dylan held up well under the practiced and blessedly quick shot that the doctor administered. Promising a brave boy a reward, she pulled into the dusty parking lot of the Whistle Stop Café a short while later and told Dylan that he could order whatever he liked once they were inside.

  That the railroad had long ago bypassed the Whistle Stop didn’t warrant a name change according to the string of owners who managed the landmark, through the subsequent booms and busts that pock-marked Wyoming’s history. The latest proprietor boasted a bottomless cup of coffee and the best pie in the whole darn county. It also was the roosting spot for locals to catch up on gossip and bemoan the price of cattle on any given day. The noon rush consisted of a dozen or so customers.

  As they took their seat at a well-worn booth, Heather had the oddest feeling that everyone in the place was looking at her. Brushing off the feeling as pure paranoia, she ordered coffee and an extra spoon for the brownie sundae Dylan ordered. Their waitress assured them it was twice as much as Dylan could dream of eating by himself. The woman, whose name tag announced her to the world as Nancy, was a big-boned blonde with nice features and a hairstyle popular in the previous decade.

  “That her?” asked one of the fellows sitting on a revolving stool at the counter as Nancy refilled his coffee on her way to the refrigerator.

  Despite the sizable wad of chew pinched between the man’s lip and jaw, he spoke clearly and loud enough for Heather to hear.

  “Shhh,” the waitress told him returning with their order.

  She discreetly closed the magazine that he had open on the counter. She then proceeded to put a huge scoop of vanilla ice cream on top of a saucer-size brownie, dripped hot fudge over it, gave it a noisy squirt of whipped cream from a can and topped off the caloric nightmare with a single maraschino cherry.

  Nancy placed the gooey concoction before Dylan a moment later. His eyes grew wide in appreciation.

  “Still not talking, huh?” the woman inquired. Concern creased her brow.

  Heather allowed Dylan time enough to respond should he have chosen to do so before supplying an answer for him. “I’m afraid not.”

  She assumed Nancy must know Dylan through a previous association with Toby and thought it nice of her to ask. A couple of bites of chocolate was enough to satisfy Heather’s craving for something sweet. Setting down her spoon, she scanned a nearby rack of magazines and newspapers, hoping to find something to occupy her time while Dylan made a charming mess of himself. One publication in particular caught her eye—and by the looks of the prominently displayed, and nearly empty space, on that rack—everyone else’s as well.

  Exclusive Photos of Danforth Family Fourth of July Bash! was proudly proclaimed in bold print across its banner.

  Heather snatched up the only remaining magazine and flipped it open without bothering to act nonchalant. While most of the coverage highlighted Abraham Danforth’s political intentions, a number of interesting and potentially incriminating photographs were included as dirt on one of America’s first families. Among them was a full-size picture of Heather wrapped in Toby’s arms. Apparently he had been mistaken about destroying the only pictures of the kiss they had shared in Savannah. Another more surreptitious reporter had a captured a different angle from a spot he’d staked out earlier. An uncomfortable two-and-a-half-hour wait straddling a branch in a nearby tree ultimately earned the reporter a handsome commission from the tabloid. And Heather’s undying disgust.

  The caption proved as titillating as the picture. It insinuated that Toby Danforth hired a nanny to work with his “emotionally disturbed” son, more for physical attributes that were far more suitable for his bedroom than Dylan’s nursery. Heather’s face burned with shame. She glanced up to see every other patron in the establishment turn away in sudden preoccupation with their food or lack thereof.

  Heather wished she didn’t care a whit about what they thought. She knew she shouldn’t.

  Still, as a sensitive spirit, she was easily wounded. A wave of nausea washed over her as the coffee in her stomach soured. She gripped the edge of the table to keep her hands from shaking. Whether it was true or not, she had the definite feeling that everyone was laughing and pointing behind her back. The back of her neck grew hot and prickly.

  When Josef humiliated her, she turned away from music to seek a new identity for herself. One that had given her a joyous beginning and faith in her own ability to shape her future. Unfortunately, she didn’t know how to outrun the innuendo of a nationally syndicated publication, albeit one of dubious repute. Her parents, already disappointed in her, were sure to completely disown her now.

  And what about Dylan? Heather knew how cruel children could be. There was no telling how his mother might react to such ugly publicity. Would she use it as ammunition in court to gain full custody of her son?

  In her heart, Heather knew that falling in love with Toby had been a terrible, wonderful mistake. She simply hadn’t counted on such a personal mistake being magnified and vilified in the press.

  Dylan pushed his bowl away and swiped at the chocolate dribbling down his chin with the back of his arm, indicating he was ready to go.

  Heather had to clear the lump from her throat before asking him, “Have you had enough?”

  Nodding his head yes, the child looked perplexed by the tears shimmering in her eyes.

  “Me, too,” she said, meaning much more than he could possibly understand.

  Heather paid their bill without saying another word and pretended not to hear the grizzled old man at the counter elbow his companion in the side.

  “Think the little lady’d consider being my bed warmer—er, I mean nanny, Charlie?”

  “Dunno, but I’d sure like a tonsillectomy like the one she gave her boss….”

  Their words echoed in her ears as Heather stepped from the air-conditioned building into the bright light of day. The worst thing about falling in love with Toby was that her previous numbness had finally worn off, leaving her all the more vulnerable to the searing pain that engulfed her and left her feeling so all alone. If the highs with Toby were breathtaking, the lows were enough to suck the breath right out of her. Heather ached all over.

  For once she was grateful for Dylan’s silence. At least she didn’t have to worry that he would tell his father about the many tears she’d shed on the long road home.

  “I’m giving you my two weeks’ notice.”

  Heather’s words reverberated off the walls of the Double D and ricocheted inside Toby’s brain like a bullet gone wild. Dylan was napping and the house was so still that every sound was amplified. The antique cuckoo clock in the kitchen alerted the house that it was three o’clock. The dishwasher clicked into its rinse cycle. And Toby felt the world shift beneath his feet.

  He couldn’t fathom what could have possibly occurred between the time he’d kissed Heather goodbye in the morning and now to make her say such a thing. A million thoughts raced through his head, most centering on what he could have possibly done to upset her. Picking one of the many excuses Sheila used to divorce him, he asked Heather if she simply found the town too rustic for her tastes. His attempt at flippancy fell as flat as his heart.

  “No, too cosmopolitan actually,” Heather replied, handing over the tabloid with shaking hands.

  Toby scanned the article before hurling the magazine across the room in disgust.

  “Is that what this is all about?” he demanded to know. “I can’t believe you’d let this piece of trash bother you.”

&nb
sp; “Maybe I didn’t grow up with it the way you did. And maybe I’m more concerned about how this might affect you and Dylan than how it affects me personally.”

  “And maybe you’re just looking for an excuse to run away.”

  Heather flinched, and he realized that he must have struck a nerve. He reached out a hand and brushed it against the side of her face. She took a deep breath and rested her cheek in the palm of his hand for a second. For eternity. With the pad of his thumb, Toby wiped away the tear that rolled down her face.

  “What are you afraid of, sweetheart?”

  “Of embarrassing you,” Heather admitted. “Of compromising the progress Dylan’s made for my own selfish desires.”

  Toby’s laugh was almost a bark. “You could never embarrass me, and by the time Dylan will be able to read this, I’d like to think he’d have more discriminating tastes than to let something so base bother him. I certainly don’t.”

  Heather pushed his hand away and swallowed against the tightening of her throat. “You can joke about it all you want, but the truth of the matter is it won’t be long before Dylan will be old enough to question our relationship. A relationship stuck in neutral because neither one of us wants to commit to more than the physical. I can’t see myself as your lover indefinitely, and I don’t want to play the kind of games that require me to withhold love as a way to force you into marriage.”

  She held up her hand to stop Toby from interrupting her.

  “Look. I’ve studied this from every angle, and the only thing that makes sense is for me to go back to school this fall and work on my teaching certification. That way everyone can save face, and we can part as friends.”

  As she continued babbling on about her plans to obtain a student loan and register for classes early, Toby looked at her as if she were asking to be helped into a straitjacket. While it was true that he had become somewhat inured to unwelcome publicity very early on in his life, he couldn’t believe that Heather would actually let something as inconsequential as the National Tattler come between them. He wondered if her hypersensitivity was rooted in a painful past, or if she was simply mortified thinking of her parents and friends seeing her in such a compromising photograph splashed across the page of such a scandalous rag.