My Child, Our Child (Silhouette Special Edition)

by Hagan, Patricia

  In the grocery store he went to the meat counter.

  George, the butcher, came out of the back to greet him, wiping his hands on his apron. “Well, what’s it going to be tonight, Sam? How about some nice stew beef? Just finished chopping some.”

  “Too much trouble. Takes too long.” Sam pointed to the glass case and a tray of minute steaks. “Let me have a couple of those. They’re quick and easy to fix. I hate to cook.”

  George reached into the case with a sheet of wax paper and picked up several slices and placed them on the scale to weigh. Then he wrapped them m brown paper, slapped on tape, scrawled the price on top and handed the package over with a teasing smile and said, “Maybe before long your new partner will start doing the cooking, and you won’t have to.”

  Sam’s hand, wrapped about the package, froze in midair. “What did you say?”

  George laughed. “Oh, don’t pretend with me, Sam. It’s all over town about that flatland woman claiming she owns half your land. There’s no need to be ashamed if you had to sell some off. Goodness knows, you’ve got so many acres up there you won’t even be able to tell the difference.”

  Trying to hang on to his temper, Sam all but threw the steaks into his basket. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he mumbled, pushing the cart away so fast he bumped into Willa Kearney’s cart.

  “Sam Colton,” she cried, “What’s this about your selling off some of your land to that woman? Have you lost your mind? Your daddy is turning over in his grave.”

  “He’s probably done that a lot, Willa,” Sam said, righting his cart and giving it a shove. “And if you’ll excuse me, I don’t have time to talk right now.”

  “Well, come on in the Book Nook when you do,” she called after him. “I want to hear all about this. She’s a pretty girl, too. Seems real nice.”

  Real nice, he snorted, so mad that he wouldn’t have been surprised if steam were coming out of his ears. The little twit couldn’t wait to spread the word, obviously not caring how it was going to embarrass him when nobody had ever known anything about it. The least she could have done was give him a chance to let people know in his own way and his own good time.

  She didn’t understand anything about the way things were around here. How could she? She was a flatlander.

  And would soon be one again if he had anything to do with it.

  Chapter Six

  Jackie awoke bright and early, truly determined that this day was the beginning of the rest of her life.

  And that life, she vowed, was going to be the absolute best she could make it.

  She was dressed in jeans, flannel shirt, down vest, and leather hiking boots—all ordered from a mail-order catalog.

  Stepping out on the rear porch, she drank deeply of the pungency of the trees that closed off the back road to the cabin. She now knew what kind they were—blue spruce, with dark green to powdery blue needles. But they looked scrawny compared to the Fraser firs in the rows to the sides.

  She had done her homework, reading till well after midnight. While there was, of course, still much to be learned from practical experience, she felt she knew enough to get started.

  And getting started meant finding Sam Colton and telling him so, which was not something she was looking forward to.

  It was cold, but with the knit cap on her head and the insulated gloves, she figured she would be fine outdoors. She had also ordered thermal socks, but they were on back order and not promised for several weeks. So she had on two pairs of regular socks, but her toes were still cold.

  Wondering just how chilly it was, she looked at the thermometer on the porch, then shivered to see it was only thirty-seven degrees. “And it’s still November,” she mumbled with a shiver.

  The temperature had really taken a plunge during the night. She had not needed a jacket the day before. Even little bandit, her mysterious visitor, had not worn a coat.

  Thinking about him had interfered with her concentration the night before, because she could not get him off her mind. He had the saddest eyes of any child she had ever seen, and that bothered her. She wished there was something she could do to help, but if he wouldn’t talk to her, then she was helpless.

  She was relieved he did not look undernourished. Evidently he was just starved for really good food—like homemade apple pie and ham and biscuits. But she was going to have to find out who he was and where he lived, because his parents might not like a stranger feeding their child. Then, too, he might have special diet requirements she did not know about. What if he were a diabetic? she shuddered to think. No, she resolved then and there, until she knew something about him, she would not feed him again. And maybe telling him that would make him open up to her. It was certainly worth a try.

  But, first things first. It was now time for a reckoning with her business partner.

  She sat in her car at the end of the driveway leading up to the big white house, motor running, hesitant to drive on. Sam wouldn’t be there. He would already have left to go to work. If she knocked on the door, she would have to answer questions about why she was looking for him.

  Then, in the rearview mirror, she saw a truck approaching and hit the steering wheel with her fist and cried, “Yes!” and got out of the car to wave down the driver.

  He slowed to a stop and poked his head out the window. “You got car trouble, ma’am? I can call a tow truck for you on my CB, but the Colton house is right up yonder, and they’ve got a phone.”

  “No. It’s not my car,” she quickly explained. “I’m wanting to find out where they’re cutting trees today. I can hear the chain saws, but I have no idea where they’re coming from because they’re echoing all around.”

  He grinned. “No problem. I know where you can find the boss, ’cause I’m here to pick up a load.” He hooked a thumb to indicate the empty flatbed behind him, stakes bundled and ready to be inserted to hold the trees in place.

  “Then I can follow you. Thanks.”

  She returned to her car and waited for him to pass, then eased out behind him.

  The road was deep with ruts, and several times Jackie feared she would get stuck again. The little car was not made for mountain driving, and it worried her to think how bad it was going to be in the snow and ice sure to come.

  After ten minutes of bouncing and jouncing, she saw what looked like a big barn with several tin-roofed, open-fronted sheds lining the path to it. Fresh-cut trees seemed to be piled everywhere. Workers were busy at some kind of huge machine, but she could tell what it was doing.

  Jackie looked around but did not see anyone resembling Sam.

  She also realized she was the object of curiosity as workers began to slow in what they were doing to stare at her.

  The driver looked in her direction, and she figured he told someone she was looking for Sam, because a few moments later he came out of the barn and started walking towards her.

  She could tell by way he moved, shoulders squared, arms swinging, that he was annoyed. As he drew closer, there could be no doubt. His blue eyes were almost black with fury.

  He waited till he was upon her before demanding, “What are you doing here? You’re in the way.”

  Jackie yielded to sarcasm after she glanced around, respond with a shrug, “That’s funny. I don’t see me bumping into anybody.”

  “No, it isn’t funny. Now I’ll have to ask you to leave. We’ve got a lot of work to do around here, and I don’t have time to waste on you.”

  She was struggling to keep cool, because he was really punching her buttons. “I should think time spent explaining operations to your new business partner could hardly be considered wasted, Sam. And I resent your rudeness, by the way. We have to try and get along.”

  “Get along. ” He snorted. “The only way we’re going to do that is for you to just head back to your little cabin, mind your own business and wait for your check. It’ll be along after the first of the year, like always.”

  “Like...like always?” she sputtered, tak
ing a step back in surprise. “You make it sound as if I’m used to getting money from you.”

  Sam took a quick glance around, saw everyone watching, and caught her elbow and gave her a tug. “Look. We can’t keep standing out here like this arguing.”

  “You’re the one who’s arguing.”

  “And thanks to you, everybody is talking.”

  “About what?” She resisted as he tugged at her again. “And I’ll thank you to take your hands off me. That’s battery, you know.”

  He dropped her arm like it was a hot potato. “What do you mean? I didn’t hit you.”

  “You don’t have to hit. Battery is the unauthorized touching of a person’s body without that person’s consent. You didn’t have my permission to touch me,” she added almost petulantly.

  Sam’s hands went to his hips, and he stared down at her and shook his head incredulously. “What in the world are you talking about?”

  Jackie felt herself coming unglued. Not only did she feel ridiculous for citing rules that nursing home employees had to learn by heart, but having him stand so close was becoming terribly unnerving. She could feel the heat of his anger, only it made her feel anything but frightened. Her eyes went to his shoulders, so broad, so strong, and his hand on her arm had been firm, yet, in a way, strangely caressing.

  He had a little dimple beneath the corner of one side of his mouth, and when he had smiled so insolently, she had actually yearned to reach out and touch it with her fingertip. For a man so strong, so rugged, to have a dimple, well, it just made her feel like butter melting on a hot pancake.

  Finally she replied, “Anyone working in a nursing home has to know the definition of assault and battery, otherwise we break laws or we can get sued.”

  He snickered. “And I’ll just bet you know all the ropes where nursing homes are concerned, don’t you?”

  She did not like the mocking gleam in his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Never mind. Well, are we going to stand here amusing everybody or will you go with me to my office where we can talk?”

  Tossing aside the image of butter and pancakes, she crisply said, “Lead the way.”

  His office was a room in the corner of the barn. There was a desk, covered with papers, two chairs and a file cabinet.

  She took one look around and blurted, “This is where you run our business?”

  “Now listen—” He started to shake a finger but lowered it. He walked behind the desk and sat down, motioning her to also have a seat. “Look, I’m not in the habit of being rude, believe me, but if you’ll pardon me for saying so, you’d try the patience of a saint—which I am far from being, I assure you.”

  He smiled.

  There was the flash of a dimple again, and Jackie imagined she could actually smell butter and pancakes.

  She squirmed in her chair. He was terribly attractive, in an almost feral sort of way. His presence also made her feel protected, somehow...as though if his arms were around her nothing or no one could ever hurt her, and—

  Don’t go there, her frantic brain commanded. She had no business being attracted to him under the circumstances.

  Under any circumstances.

  It was her heart that spoke that time.

  No men.

  Not for a long, long time.

  Independence.

  Financial security.

  Those things had to come first.

  “Now look...” He spread his hands on the desk. “I was going to come to see you and talk about all this, but the season is here, and I’ve got trucks coming every day to pickup orders. It’s a crazy time. But if you can just bear with me, we’ll get everything settled once the rush is over.”

  She cocked her head to one side. “Settle what? I presume you talked to Mr. Burkhalter.”

  “I did. He confirmed what you said. He sent me some papers. They’re up at the house in my other office. I haven’t had a chance to look at them yet.”

  Jackie thought if his other office looked like this one he’d probably never see the papers again. “I repeat—what is it you want to settle?”

  “You.”

  It was such a blunt answer that she recoiled. “Me? That’s absurd. I’m the legal owner of that land, and I intend to take an active part in the farm. It’s quite simple.”

  “No, it isn’t. You might be the owner, all nice and legal, but morally you’ve no right to that land. Neither did Libby Pratt. Maybe if I try hard enough I can understand her hanging on to it, but not you.

  “Now I know you probably went to a lot of trouble to get her to leave it to you,” he continued, “but I don’t want to talk about that, because it makes me sick to think of people preying on old ladies in nursing homes, and—”

  Jackie bounded to her feet. “Hey, you’re way out of line, mister. I never preyed on her or anybody else. I had no idea she was leaving me that land, and I resent your accusation.

  “In fact,” she rushed on, face flaming as anger swirled, “I demand an apology, or I swear I will pick up that phone right now and call Mr. Burkhalter and have him start a lawsuit against you that just might wind up with me owning this whole damn farm.” She wasn’t sure that was possible but was mad enough at the moment to threaten him with anything.

  He also rose, clenching the edge of the desk as he leaned across it to put his face in front of hers and hotly declare, “All right. I apologize. I have no proof. But everything points to it. Anybody would think the same thing.”

  “Well, they would be wrong—just like you.” She all but threw herself back in the chair. “Now if you’re through being absurd and ridiculous, let’s get down to business.”

  “Right.” He likewise sat. “How much?”

  She blinked. “How much what?”

  “Money. To buy you out. Hell, I’ll mortgage my half if that’s what it takes to get rid of you. I’ll call a friend of mine who’s a Realtor, get him to do what’s called an arm’s length appraisal, and we’ll go from there.”

  “It’s not for sale.”

  He sneered. “Of course it is. Everything is if the price is right. Name yours.”

  “I don’t have one. And I don’t care how much you offer, I won’t take it.”

  Leaning back, he ran his fingers through his hair in agitation as he stared up at the ceiling and mumbled, “I don’t believe any of this. What possible motive could you have in wanting to stay here and hang on to that land?”

  “It’s my home,” she said quietly, matter-of-factly. “It’s a new life. Something I desperately need... something Libby apparently also knew. That’s why she left the land to me. And I intend to stay.”

  “It won’t work.”

  “Of course it will.”

  “You’re going to be snowed in soon. Do you have chains for that rust bucket you drive?”

  “No, but I can buy some.”

  “Do you know how to put them on?”

  “It can’t be that hard to learn.”

  He chuckled, then asked, “What are you going to do when your well freezes up? No water. No plumbing.”

  Her sharp laughter wiped the insolent grin from his face. “What do I look like, Sam? A complete woosie? I’m going to trade my car for a four-wheel drive as soon as I can afford it. Meanwhile, I’m going to learn about things like frozen wells and water lines and make sure it doesn’t happen.

  “But, hey, we’re getting off on the wrong track here,” she said. “I didn’t come here for you to tell me how rough things might get. And don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself. All I need from you is to help me get started so I can be an active partner.”

  He groaned. “You’ll only be in the way.”

  “No, I won’t. Besides, from the looks of things, you can use some help in the paperwork department, anyway. I can do your bookkeeping for you.”

  “I have an accountant in town that does that.”

  “Well, I can help him. But first I want to go out in the fields and watch the harvest. Wh
at are you cutting today? Scotch pines? Balsams? Noble firs?” She was so proud of all she had learned the night before, albeit hastily, and even though she hadn’t fully absorbed it and sorted it out.

  She chattered on while Sam watched in silent amazement.

  “So how many trees do you have planted per acre? It’s usually two thousand an acre, and then only a thousand or fifteen hundred survive.”

  He continued to stare, saying nothing.

  Jackie felt a twinge of unease. He did not look particularly impressed. In fact, he looked like he was trying to keep from laughing.

  She had lost her confidence but felt the need to show her knowledge. “I know it takes a long time for a tree to be old enough to harvest—six to ten years.”

  “And fighting heavy rain, wind, hail and drought all the way,” Sam said quietly. “It’s not as easy as you make it seem.”

  “Well, I’ll learn,” she said lamely.

  “Not from me. Get something straight.” His eyes slitted. “I don’t want you here. I can’t make you leave, but I don’t want you around. You’ll get what’s coming to you financially. Meanwhile, stay out of my way. That’s the only way we’re going to get along.”

  “Then we aren’t going to get along,” she snapped, worn out with his brashness. “And if that’s your attitude, you can stay off my land.”

  “Stay off your...” He was so stunned, so infuriated, his voice trailed to a gasp of disgust, then, “You can’t mean that. You’ll lose the trees. You won’t know what you’re doing. And we’ll both lose money. I can’t fill my orders unless I harvest trees from Uncle Roy’s land, too.”

  “My land,” she frostily corrected. “And I guess that’s how it has to be, because I won’t accept your terms.”

  Pressing his fingertips to his temples, Sam murmured, “I don’t believe any of this.”

  “And another thing. What was that crack you made about people talking, thanks to me?”