“Who?”
“You know, Liz Stevenson. Her husband, Gary, runs the sawmill out on River Road. She’s not a very nice church lady.”
“I don’t believe I know her.”
“Then it’s not about Liz?”
“No. It’s not about Liz.” He leaned forward.
Oh, she almost blew it. If Liz Stevenson hadn’t blabbed to him about her and Cody and Johnny, then who had?
“I’d like to talk to you about another donation, and I don’t want you to say anything to anyone. Not your mother. No one.”
She took a deep breath of relief.
“I promise, dad. What’s up?”
“I want the foundation to somehow pay the Gonzalez kid’s college tab. I think that his name is Reinnaldo or something.”
“It’s Alfredo. Do you want to fund all four years?”
“Yep. All four. Make up a scholarship or something, then see to it that he gets it.”
“Okay, Dad. That’s very nice of you.”
He grunted. “Maybe I’ll get more work out of Slim if he ain’t worried about his kid. He tells me that Alfredo will be the first on both sides of his family to go to college.”
“You know, dad, sometimes you have a soft spot that you don’t want anyone to see. Why not?”
She’d wondered about that a million times.
“Then people take advantage of you. I don’t like that. I’d rather just be anonymous.”
The door squeaked open and the sudden noise made Laura jump.
“Momma?”
“Johnny? You’re supposed to be home, taking a nap. What are you doing here?” Laura asked.
“I’m scared. I told Clarissa that I wanted my mommy.”
“Why, honey? There are no monsters in your room.” That was yesterday’s problem.
“I’m scared of going to jail if I’m bad. I don’t want to go to jail like Mr. Masters.”
“Like who?” boomed her father.
Laura closed her eyes. This can’t be happening. And she’d been worried about Liz Stevenson? She should have worried about Johnny.
“You aren’t going to go to jail, sweetie,” Laura said. “You haven’t done anything wrong except for not staying in bed, and they don’t put little boys in jail for that.”
She took Johnny’s hand and was just about ready to exit with him when J.W. said, “Oh, no, you don’t. I want to talk to my grandson.”
Grinning, Johnny ran to J.W., and J.W. lifted the boy onto his lap.
“What about Cody Masters, Johnny?” J.W. asked.
“It’s nothing, dad. Don’t cross-examine Johnny. If you want to know something, just ask me.”
“Fair enough,” J.W. said.
As Johnny doodled on a fresh piece of paper that J.W. set in front of him, Laura told her father how Cody had bid on her anonymous basket and won.
“And we ate lunch together, Grandpa, because it’s the rule,” Johnny said. “And we played catch. We had a fun time and ate chicken that Clarissa made and pie that Momma made.”
J.W. grunted. “I see.”
“Yes, it was the rule,” Laura echoed. “And they had a great time playing catch.”
“And Cody told Johnny all about being in jail?” J.W. smoothed Johnny’s hair.
“He just answered Johnny’s questions. Cody didn’t say anything...inappropriate.”
“Thank goodness for that. At least the man has some kind of sense.”
“He has a lot of sense. If only you’d come to yours, Dad.”
Her father lifted Johnny down. “Go home now, son.”
“That’s what Cody calls me, Grandpa. He calls me ‘son.’”
J.W. eyes flared as he looked at Laura. “Put Johnny to bed! And tend to that scholarship for the Gonzalez kid.”
“Or?”
“Or stay here and explain yourself to me!”
“Then I’ll see about the scholarship.”
“We haven’t finished talking about this,” he said.
“Tomorrow’s another day. At Tara,” she said quietly with a Southern Scarlett O’Hara accent.
And there would be another civil war starting at the Duke Ranch.
Chapter Seven
Cody wiped the sweat from his face and neck with a wet, white towel that he’d brought from home. At five at night, it was one hundred and fifteen degrees on the outside thermometer that was shaped like a roadrunner.
The ancient thermometer inside the barn showed it was only ten degrees cooler there, even with the industrial fans blowing from every corner of the barn, running up their electric bill.
Looking up, he could see light. The barn’s roof needed help. He supposed he could nail down a tarp for a while until they sold some livestock. Then he could replace the roof or nail shingles over it. Terra-cotta that would match the house was just too damn expensive.
After all, he wasn’t J. W. Duke.
Then the Double M needed new rails around the corral. The ones up now were so dried out; they were splintered and weak. He didn’t want to lose any of the three horses they had.
His mother was going to harvest some of the prickly pear fruit from their cacti with the same name. Then she and Cindy were going to make jelly and sell it at the farmer’s market in town.
They weren’t going to get rich on prickly pear jelly, but every little bit helped.
As he mucked out the stall of his favorite gelding, Midnight Blue, he was finding muscles that had been dormant. Now they were sore and achy, but it felt good. So did the sun on his bare back when he was working outside.
He couldn’t take his shirt off at the Duke Ranch. J.W. wouldn’t hear of it. They all had to wear golden-yellow T-shirts with a crown on the pocket and the Duke logo under it.
The Double M didn’t really have a logo or a symbol. Just the two Ms. Not exactly exciting.
And it wasn’t worth having a sign on the door of his sun-bleached, ancient pickup. That would be worth more than the truck.
He thought of his day with little Johnny and Laura. It was great fun until Liz Stevenson remembered that he was a jailbird. It was good that Liz didn’t say the m-word—for murder or manslaughter—around Johnny.
Cody couldn’t stand to hear that Johnny thought that his stint in jail was “cool.” He’d hope that he’d gently dispelled that idea with their conversation at the picnic.
Speaking of the picnic, no doubt when J.W. found out that the three of them had been together—and he would—there’d be hell to pay.
Actually, Cody couldn’t blame J.W. He was told up front to stay away from Laura, and now Johnny, but J.W. had been telling him that his whole life. Now the other man had more ammo because he didn’t want them associating with a known murderer.
Even Cody didn’t want them to be tainted due to him. It wasn’t good for their reputations. However, Cody would burst if he couldn’t see them.
He just would see them when other people weren’t around.
His mother walked into the barn and handed him a frosty glass of lemonade. “It’s so good to see you back on the ranch, Cody.”
“It’s great to be here, Mom.”
She looked so tired and much older. He wished he could turn back the clock and change the events that led up to Hank Lindy being shot.
But Hank Lindy deserved killing for what he’d done—slapping, punching and manhandling his mother in the way he had. Then he was about to focus his violence on ten-year-old Cindy. If Cody hadn’t stepped in, who knows what Lindy would have done to her?
The bastard.
“Cody, I’m so sorry—” his mother began.
“Mom, don’t.”
Tears pooled in her blue eyes. “I shouldn’t have married Hank. I didn’t love him. But we were str
uggling so, and he had money and he paid a lot of attention to me and Cindy, and well...”
“You didn’t know that he was a...a...” Cody was going to say every inmate’s favorite word, but this was his mother he was talking to.
“I should have known. I should have seen the signs that he was abusive. And he was screaming at Cindy too much for no reason. You know that she is such a gentle soul. She started to withdraw, and then Hank found out that I’d talked to a lawyer outside Duke Springs and was going to divorce him, and he went berserk. Well...you know the rest.”
He knew all this, but obviously his mother wanted to talk.
She blinked and the tears ran like little rivulets down her cheeks. Cody gathered her into his arms. She was nothing but skin and bones.
“If I knew when I married him how brutal he was, of course, I never would have done it. But he had everyone fooled.”
“I didn’t know, either, until that night,” Cody whispered. “I don’t know how I missed the signs.”
“Oh, Cody!” She sniffed. “I hid it well.”
He rubbed her back. “Mom, I knew you’d want to discuss this, and we can talk about it more, but please don’t blame yourself. The blame lies with Lindy. He was the one responsible for the chain of events—him and him alone.”
“But you lost more than three years of your life, and now everyone thinks that you are...are...a...”
Murderer. Cody’s mother just couldn’t say the word.
Cody knew that she’d never get over her guilt that it was her fault he became incarcerated. “It was worth it, Mom. I’d do it all over again if I had to.”
She was losing it, and he hated to see his mother so upset, so he hugged her for a while, letting her cry, then changed the subject. “So what’s for Sunday dinner? I am starving.”
Georgianna wiped her eyes with the edge of her flannel shirt. “I thought I’d grill us steaks. We’re still celebrating your return.”
“Let’s keep celebrating, huh?” Cody said. “But I have to get these stalls cleaned before dinner and do a couple of other things, like feed and water the horses, so scoot your boots, Mom.”
“I’m boot-scooting!” his mother said, managing a smile. “I’ll ring the triangle when it’s ready.”
He reached for her and guided her into a little two-step around the barn, and Cody had never felt so free, so goofy. It helped him to see her smile. It felt almost normal. The way they were before Lindy. And there was steak for dinner! He could taste it now.
“Mom, could you make your special onion rings?”
“You got it,” she said, hurrying to the back door of the ranch house.
His mom still looked good for her age and what she’d been through. He wished she didn’t have to work so hard, but that was the life of a rancher.
Cody also wished he could help her more, but his income from his job at the Duke Ranch was a good start. If only he could make more money somehow.
The real money was back in the Arabian barn and the horses that J.W. boarded for his big-shot millionaire pals. Cody was the best horse trainer in the business. His father had taught him. Maybe he could get a job training the Arabians, and he could develop his own clients—or steal them from J.W.
But the big shots would take one look at the Masters’ barn and head for the hills. They wouldn’t want their expensive horses housed here.
“Another pipe dream,” Cody said, spearing his pitchfork into a bale of hay. He gripped the wheelbarrow handles with his blistered hands and pushed it to the pile behind the barn, away from the house.
Yes, he was the best trainer in the business. If only he could teach horses how to use a toilet!
Just as he was feeding their horses, the triangle rang. It was probably Cindy ringing it because she loved to do so.
It was another little thing, but how he’d missed the sound of that iron ringing. Triangles like that had called cowboys in for meals as far back as anyone could remember.
He walked to the side of the barn and hosed himself off with the almost-too-hot water. As usual, there was a bar of soap on a chipped china saucer, and he washed his hands and face. There was no towel, so he dried off with his T-shirt, then slipped it on over his head. Due to the desert sun still overhead, he’d be dry before he hit the back door of the ranch house.
Cindy was flipping the steaks on the grill.
“Make mine rare, sis.”
“I know. You haven’t been gone that long that I’d forget.”
He hugged her close. “Have you been okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Still going to counseling?” he asked. His mother had written him and said that they’d found a counselor that they liked. They were going to both individual and group sessions.
“Yeah. I like her. Miss Dowd. She’s nice.”
“Do you still have nightmares, Cindy?”
“Yeah. The shots—they were so loud—and the blood and all. There was blood all over, Cody. Me and Mom scrubbed and scrubbed, but we couldn’t get it out. Finally, we threw everything away. All of Lindy’s stuff, too. And we bought a new rug for the living room floor.”
“I know, sis, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry that you had to go through that. But it’s done. He’s gone. And he’ll never bother you again.”
Cindy shuddered. “There were other things before that. He’d squeeze my arm real tight, and he’d slapped me in the mouth a couple of times. Sometimes, he’d sneak up on me and put his hands around my throat. He told me never to tell Mom or he’d hurt her.” She paused. “And then you had to go to jail. I’ve missed you so much, Cody.”
He smiled. “I had to go. You know that. Now I’m on parole, you’re going to counseling with Mom, and everything’s going to be fine.”
“I’m going to get a job, too, Cody. You’ll see.”
“Where do you want to work?”
“At the Duke Springs Bakery. My friend, Joanie’s mom owns it, and she said that she’d give me a job when I turn sixteen in three years.”
“Three years? You have a long wait, sis!”
“If I have papers, I can work earlier than that. I thought I could ride my bike to the bakery, so no one has to take me.”
“You’ve got it all planned, huh?”
“Yeah. Sometimes I think that I want to get away from here, if only for a while.”
“And sometimes you’ll find that you can’t wait to get back.”
“Yup. I know.” Cindy smiled.
Cody loved when she smiled. Before Lindy, she used to smile all the time. But back then, he’d still wished Cindy and his mother would have told him what Lindy was doing to them. He would have had a little “discussion” with the poor excuse for a man.
“Hey, sis, watch my steak. I want it still mooing!”
She laughed and put it on a plate. “Here you are. One mooing steak.”
“Perfect,” Cody said. “See you inside. I’m going to eat all the onion rings.”
“Don’t you dare!”
Finally, they all sat down and bowed their heads in thanksgiving. Then the good-natured teasing started between Cody and Cindy.
It was like he’d never been away.
“You know, Cody, I’ve been thinking,” Cindy said.
“Don’t hurt yourself,” Cody joked.
“I’ve been thinking that Johnny Duke looks an awful lot like you when you were his age. Have you looked at that picture of you on the wall in the hallway lately?”
“Cynthia Louise Masters!” Georgianna shook her head. “Keep your opinions to yourself, please.”
“But, Mom, you know it’s true. Cody and Johnny look like father and son. Laura said she met Johnny’s father in college. I don’t think that’s the truth.”
“What?”
Cody drop
ped his fork on the floor. He didn’t bother to pick it up, but went straight to the hallway’s picture gallery.
His heart pounded in his ears, and adrenaline slammed into his body just like it did when he was riding a bull.
He knew exactly the picture that Cindy was talking about. He was riding his first horse, Max, on his fourth birthday, and his father was standing alongside Max. Cody had a grin from ear to ear, just like the grin that Johnny sported when he talked about Pirate.
How could he have missed the fact that Johnny was the spitting image of himself at his age?
Nah. Cindy must be mistaken.
He went back to the table and sat down, dazed.
“Mom? What do you think?” Cody asked.
“I think that you need to have a serious conversation with Laura, Cody.”
“I did. She said that Johnny’s father was a college guy that she had a fling with.”
Cindy munched on an onion ring. “You know... Laura has never had another boyfriend but you. She wouldn’t...uh...be with another man. Not her. And when you were gone, she always visited and brought Johnny. I think she sneaked because J.W. and Penny don’t like us, but she always let us babysit. In fact, I’m supposed to watch Johnny on Friday.”
Cody tried to swallow the lump in his throat. “Mom? Tell me, please.”
“You need to find the truth out from Laura. End of discussion. Are you going to eat your steak, Cody?”
“I lost my appetite. Save it for me for later, please. I have something to do right now.”
“Please don’t go charging over there,” Georgianna pleaded. “It won’t do any good. Can’t you just wait until you see Laura?”
He checked the clock on the wall. “I’m going to see her right now. How could she keep something like this from me? And why am I so stupid that I didn’t figure it out for myself?”
The screen door banged shut behind him, and as he was walking away, he heard his mother say, “Cindy, how could you?”
“Mom, if I’m wrong, I’ll apologize and make it up to him ten times over. But if I’m right, Laura has a lot of explaining to do, and Cody’s going to be hurt—and it’ll be the worst kind of hurt.”
* * *
Laura had to talk to Cody. She had to tell him to stay away from her and Johnny for a while. If J.W. heard one more word from Johnny about how wonderful Cody was, it wouldn’t bode well for him.
The Rancher's Surprise Son (Gold Buckle Cowboys Book 4) Page 8
