Texas Baby

by Kathleen O’Brien

  “We’ll be there soon,” he said.

  “No. Not the ranch. My home.”

  “You want to drive all the way to Riverfork tonight?”

  She shook her head. “No. My parents live just south of Austin.” She put the palm of her hand on his chest. “Can you take me there, Chase? I want to see my mother.”

  SUSANNAH WAS WAITING for Chase at the Double C. She wanted to get home and check on Nikki, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave without hearing what had happened in San Antonio. So she kept in touch by cell phone, driving Nikki wild with frustration.

  “I’m doing my homework, for God’s sake. Get a life of your own, why don’t you?”

  By ten, Susannah had fallen asleep on the sofa. The sound of the banjo clock in the hall woke her up at eleven. And then again at midnight.

  By twelve-thirty, just when she was starting to get really worried, she heard Chase’s truck pull into the drive, its tires crunching slowly along the oyster-shell surface.

  She jumped to her feet, smoothed her hair and her skirt and met him on the porch.

  “Chase!” She reached up to give him a kiss, shocked by the drawn, tight lines of his tired face. “Did you find him?”

  He nodded. “I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow, okay, Sue? It’s been a long day.”

  “But can’t you tell me anything? Did he deny it? Are you going to file charges? Is he going to help Josie with the baby?”

  “No,” he said flatly, “no, and no.” There was no point in denying it. “Josie didn’t want me to prosecute. And as for helping…the man is a total wreck. He doesn’t have the wits or the assets to help anybody, including himself.”

  Susannah’s heart fell. She had so hoped that something good would come of this. Something that could make her feel less guilty about everything.

  “Oh, poor Josie. How did she take it?”

  He shrugged. “It was hard. But the girl’s got grit. She’s going to be fine.”

  “I’m sure she will.” She looked out toward the truck. It seemed to be empty. Could Josie be lying down, asleep on the seat? Maybe the long day had been too much for her, after last night’s excitement. She was tons better, but she didn’t have her full strength back yet.

  “Can I help her with anything? Does she need something to eat? Imogene’s asleep already, but I could—”

  “No, Sue. She doesn’t need anything.” The porch light caught his eyes. They were as bleak as blue ice.

  “Chase.” Susannah’s hands felt slightly cold. “Where is she?”

  He shook his head. “She’s gone.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  AFTER LUNCH THE NEXT DAY, Susannah drove her Jeep right up to the ranch manager’s office, yanked on the emergency brake and killed the engine. She knew Trent was here. His Mercedes hugged the side of the building, the sleek machine drowsing elegantly under the warm sun. It even looked like him, she thought. Glamorous and bored on the outside, dangerously powerful and primitive on the inside.

  She squared her shoulders, took a deep breath and set her jaw. Then she jumped down, before she could change her mind.

  She didn’t knock. She just shouldered open the door and walked straight past his secretary, all the way to his desk.

  He looked up, with one sardonically cocked eyebrow. Of course, she thought. He was far too cool to admit to being surprised to see her.

  “Hey, there,” he said. He slowly scanned her from head to toe, taking in the tailored shirt, the pleated linen slacks. “I liked your miniskirt better.”

  “I don’t give a damn.”

  “I know.” He smiled. “Is that all you wanted to say?”

  “No.” She decided to dispense with the whole prologue she’d created and just get to the point. The sooner she did, the sooner she could get out of here.

  “I wanted to tell you…” She took another deep breath. “Chase is in love with Josie.”

  “That I also know.” He shrugged. “Is there anyone who doesn’t? Except perhaps Chase himself?”

  “Maybe not. As you may remember, when it comes to things like this, I’m always the last to know.”

  “Yes.” He smiled. “And the last to forgive, as well.”

  She felt her blood pressure rising. “Look, Trent. I don’t have time for this.”

  He picked up his pen and started to sign one of the many documents that littered his desk. “Then by all means, don’t let me keep you.”

  She growled softly under her breath. How did he do this to her every time? He was the only human being on earth who could make her lose her cool with just the slightest tweak of his tone, or angle of his eyebrow.

  She reached out and wrapped her hand over the top of the pen, stalling its motion. “Damn it, you self-satisfied jerk. I need your help.”

  “With what?”

  “With Chase.”

  Trent sat back in his big leather chair. He watched her through hooded eyes. “What do you need me to do?”

  “I need you to marry me.”

  THE NEW RANCH HAND was clearly surprised to see Chase come into the south stables midafternoon, just about the time they were sending the family horses to the turnout pen.

  “Do you need me to saddle up one of the horses, sir?” Richie had that eagerness that only the very young ever have for their jobs. “We’ve already turned out most of them, but I could—”

  “No, that’s fine.” Chase waved him off. “I just felt like taking a look around.”

  The truth was, Chase found the whole aura of the stables comforting. It was such a simple place. Whitewashed wooden walls; wood shavings on the floors; uniform, roomy stalls. The tack hanging along the walls was the only decoration, but he’d take saddles and bridles over crystal and china any day.

  In here, everything went according to schedule, and the horses were easy to please. Treat them fairly, feed them on time, give them plenty of fresh air and time to stretch their legs, and they’d do anything you asked them to do.

  Captain Kirk was still in his stall. He was getting too old to run with the crowd, but someone rode him every day. Sometimes, Chase found time to do it, and when he didn’t, he missed his time with the old guy.

  He got close enough to the stall to let Captain Kirk nuzzle his jacket. The horse was spoiled, of course. He knew that Chase never showed up without bringing a treat.

  “Okay. Which pocket?”

  He had a carrot in his left, and one of Imogene’s apple-and-oats cookies in the other. Captain Kirk had a sweet tooth, so he knew which one he wanted. He nuzzled at the right pocket, lifted his lip and nickered softly.

  Chase’s dad had been horrified when he realized that his young son let his new horse poke around his pockets. He thought it was a bad habit, and could lead to trouble down the road. But Chase had been lucky. Captain Kirk never pushed his boundaries, never nipped or got too pushy.

  He fed the horse the cookie in small pieces, then dusted off his hands. “Yeah, you’re a sweet old soul, aren’t you, buddy?”

  “Actually,” Trent said from behind him, “I am. Thank you for noticing.”

  Chase chuckled. “Hey,” he said. “What’s up?”

  Trent strolled up to the Dutch doors and gave Captain Kirk a good scratch on the withers.

  “Not much,” he said. “Two things, really. First, I’m just wondering how you’re doing.”

  Chase pulled the carrot out of his pocket and concentrated on breaking it into pieces. The old Captain might prefer the cookie, but he’d never say no to a carrot. He’d developed quite an appetite in his old age.

  “I’m fine,” he said. “Got a lot to catch up on, of course. I didn’t get much done while Josie was here.”

  Trent didn’t answer right away. He just leaned against the stall and watched Chase feed the carrot to the horse. Finally he smiled. “Yeah. I can see you haven’t got a second to spare.”

  Chase started to protest. But what was the use? Trent knew him too well.

  He frowned. “Man, I need
to get some new friends.”

  “You mean ones who don’t know where the bodies are buried?” Trent put his hands in his pockets. “Naw, it would be too much work breaking them in. Much easier just to be honest about how you feel. It’s got to feel weird, after having her living right in your house. She had something, didn’t she?”

  Chase had to be careful not to say too much. If he let himself, he could definitely disgrace the cowboy tradition of silent stoicism.

  “Yeah. She definitely did have something. Now that she’s gone, the house feels like…like someone pulled the power line down.”

  “Yeah. You’ve got a couple of ranch hands who are brokenhearted this morning. Apparently they worshipped her from afar. And Imogene sniffled all over the pancakes she brought out to us. I almost couldn’t eat.”

  “I guess we’ll all just have to get over it. I tried to get her to stay a little longer. She could get a job in town, if she’s sick of being idle. It’s crazy for her to go somewhere she isn’t wanted, when—”

  He stopped, hearing the intensity in his voice. Captain Kirk nuzzled his cheek sympathetically.

  “It’s okay,” Trent said. “Heck, even I miss her.”

  Chase didn’t want to think about it anymore. He felt like a man who was entering prison, or going to war. He was committed to Susannah for one year, one month and two days.

  Until he’d served his time, he couldn’t say a damn thing to Josie. He couldn’t even ask her if she cared about him. Couldn’t ask whether she’d even want to see him again, when the marriage was over.

  And he certainly couldn’t ask if she’d be willing to wait.

  Bad enough that it would be rough on Sue, knowing that he was just counting the minutes until the cell doors clanged open. Much worse, it would be asking the impossible of Josie.

  By the time he was free again, the baby would be about seven months old. Her pregnancy, her delivery, all of that would be endured alone. She couldn’t wait that long to find someone to share her joys, share her burdens, share the miracle of the baby. She needed help now.

  And as Trent had just pointed out, half the men who laid eyes on her would gladly volunteer for the task.

  “So. You said you had two things. What is thing number two?”

  Trent smiled serenely, looking exactly like the cat who had just swallowed the canary. “Oh, nothing big. I just came down to return something to you.”

  “What?”

  Trent brought his hand out of his pocket. “This,” he said. He stretched out his hand.

  Curious, Chase held out his own. And then, with a little, glittering plop, Trent dropped a diamond ring into his palm.

  “What the hell?” He turned the cool, platinum band over, checking out the distinctive square-cut chunk of white fire. It couldn’t be…. He had to be imagining things. But it was.

  He looked up. “This is Susannah’s engagement ring.”

  “Not anymore,” Trent said. “Sorry, pal, but we’ve had a change of plans.”

  JOSIE HADN’T SPENT A NIGHT under her stepfather’s roof in seven years.

  To her surprise, a lot had changed since then.

  For one thing, Walter seemed to have mellowed a little.

  He had always been a creature of routine. He liked his dinner on time, his home quiet and his wife at his beck and call. He liked to reign supreme over an orderly kingdom.

  That part hadn’t changed. When she showed up at his door, he wasn’t happy to see her, and he didn’t pretend to be. But he didn’t say anything downright hostile or insulting, which was a marked contrast to the last time they’d met.

  Of course, his civility might have been because he was a little intimidated by Chase. It was one thing to berate your dependent child, in the privacy of your home, where you are the undisputed king. But it was something altogether different to show that side of yourself in front of a man of money, influence and great personal presence.

  Maybe the most amazing change, though, was in her mother. For the first time, her mom seemed to have some fire inside. After Chase left, when Walter started holding forth about how irresponsible it was to create a child you couldn’t support, Josie’s mother touched his arm and said, “None of that, now. I’m thrilled about this baby.”

  It was offered in a gentle tone, and with a conciliatory smile, but, for Josie, it seemed to be a huge milestone. For the first time in her conscious life, Josie dared to hope her mother might become an ally.

  And that was perfect timing. Because she could really use a friend.

  She couldn’t believe how much it hurt to lose Chase.

  If she had ever wondered whether her feelings for the fake Chase had been love, she knew better now. When he disappeared from her life, she had been disappointed, embarrassed, even depressed.

  But that was all.

  This loss…this was something as different from that as the acorn is different from the oak. This emptiness hollowed out her heart, and throbbed inside her soul.

  More than once, in that long first night, as she tried to sleep in the bed of her childhood, she considered calling him.

  She had never told him that she loved him. She would do that now. She would tell him that, no matter what happened, she would wait for him.

  Somehow she stopped herself from making that call. It was wrong on so many levels. First, the declaration would hang there, in the background of his relationship with Susannah, like a fog. They might never be able to see their way through that fog, and find each other.

  She knew what Chase had said, but no one could really predict what the future held for his marriage. He and Susannah intended for it to last only a year, a partnership between old friends, a way to save the orchard.

  But what if something bigger should grow? What if some night, out of loneliness or need, they turned to each other and discovered love there, like violets growing unnoticed under a canopy of trees?

  And what if, quite by accident, they found themselves with a baby on the way?

  No, she couldn’t be the invisible third party in their marriage. It wasn’t fair to them—and it wasn’t, in the end, even fair to herself. She needed to move on. She needed to find a way to make a life for the baby, a life that wasn’t dependent on any man.

  Not even her stepfather.

  The minute she got up the next morning, she studied the classifieds. No more restaurant work. She needed a full-time job, an office job with health insurance, a steady paycheck and the kind of hours you could build a family around.

  She filled out some online applications, faxed her résumé to a couple of places and phoned another. One legal office called back almost immediately, wanting to set up interviews.

  It was encouraging. No one was offering a huge salary, but she was willing to start at the bottom.

  She wished she could tell Chase about it. Surely it wouldn’t be evil just to call him as a friend, just to tell him about the progress.

  Evil? Maybe not. But foolish? Definitely.

  She put the phone down and went out to join her mother in the garden.

  The suburban yard wasn’t the Double C, with its spreading acres of flowering trees and green fields, but her mother’s backyard bed was a forty-by-twenty-foot work of art.

  During Josie’s growing-up years, she had resented the hours her mother spent out here, planting phlox, fertilizing columbine. She had always refused to help, even when her mother asked.

  But now she finally understood some things a little better. Even her mother. She saw that her mother had needed some time to herself, a place where she was the queen, instead of merely the handmaiden to the king.

  Obviously, Ellen Whitford hadn’t been the perfect mother. But maybe she’d been as good as she knew how to be.

  Josie climbed down the back stairs and crossed the perfectly trimmed green lawn. She knelt next to her mother and picked up the orange-handled weeder. “Shall I help get these dandelions out of here?”

  Her mother wasn’t big on discussing emotion, but
her expression was thanks enough.

  “Okay, then,” Josie said, squeezing her mother’s hand. “Let’s get this done.”

  They spent two hours out there, until the sun dipped far enough to make the house cast long, olive-green rectangles on the grass. They talked more honestly than Josie could ever remember talking to her mother. It filled one of the empty places in Josie’s heart. She wondered if it had done the same for her mother.

  They both had difficulties to face. They were both trying to find the courage it would take. Maybe they could help each other along the way.

  As the shadows grew closer, and eventually nipped at their heels, they decided to call it a day.

  Her mother went inside first, nervously saying something about getting dinner started in time. Josie let it pass. Her mother’s relationship was too complicated for her to fully understand—and besides, it was really not her business. Something had kept the two together all these years.

  And although Josie wouldn’t have wanted a lifetime of anxious servility, she did understand the longing for security, for the comfort of knowing someone would always be there.

  Maybe someday she would find that.

  When she thought the words, she tried to force herself not to think of Chase. She tried to leave a blank where the “someone” should be—tried to leave an opening that would give some man a chance.

  But she couldn’t. The only someone she wanted was the one she’d left behind.

  She stayed outdoors a few more minutes, enjoying the last of the sunlight. She sat cross-legged in the dirt, the knees of her jeans black with earth, and her fingernails dark all the way down to the quick.

  And then she saw a new shadow, moving around the side of the house. This one was tall, and narrow, and walking directly toward her.

  Her heart skipped a beat, though she tried to settle it down. Why was she such a dreamer? It was probably her stepfather, or maybe a neighbor….

  But her heart knew better. It picked up its pace, until by the time the shadow cleared the house, her pulse was speeding so fast she could hardly breathe.

  She rose to her feet, dropping the weeder into the mulch.