Jake turned to her with a look on his face she’d only seen once. “I’ll make sure you get home dry and in one piece.”
With no choice, she stayed where she was. Somehow, she would get through this.
* * *
“WHY DIDN’T YOU tell me?” he demanded, watching her closely.
“I never expected to see you again. I didn’t have much of a choice. You weren’t there.”
He couldn’t remember ever being this angry, not even at his parents. He took three steps toward her and looked down into her upturned face. “Don’t blame this on me, Erin. All you had to do was—”
“You were long gone by the time I knew.” Color flooded her face, blotching her cheeks with red. “I didn’t know what to do. I was scared. I did the best I could.”
“For you, maybe.” Hadn’t she given any thought to him? “Who knows about this?”
“Me,” she answered. “Only me. Not even Dylan and Luke know. I went to stay with my mother’s sister in Kansas that summer before my senior year. No one in Desperation even guessed why. Except Ada.”
“Ada? My cook?”
Erin nodded. “Somehow I fooled everyone except her. She helped me make the decision but never told me what I should do, only held me when I cried. I had him—the baby—and signed the papers to relinquish him for adoption. I never saw him, never held him.”
But she’d had an option. “You could have gone to Uncle Carl. He would have gotten in touch with me.”
“And you would have done what?” she demanded. “Rushed back here? Would you have even believed me? Would you have cared? You didn’t when—”
“You didn’t even try!” he shouted. “You didn’t give one thought to me or what I might have wanted.”
Her eyes blazed with anger. “And you gave how much thought to what I wanted?”
If only she knew, but he wouldn’t tell her. He didn’t know if she deserved to know why he’d broken it off with her. “Stop excusing it,” he said, his fury building. “You were the one who—”
“Seduced you?” The smile she gave him was hard and brittle. “I did. I admit it. Put the blame on me. I don’t care.”
His head hurt, his heart even more. It came down to one thing. One, simple thing. Taking her by the arms, he pulled her to within inches of him. “No more excuses, Erin,” he said, saying each word louder until he shouted, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
She stiffened in his hands and met his gaze. “You lost the right to know when you walked out on me that night.”
“The hell I did!” Releasing her, he stepped back, breathing hard.
“It’s exactly what you did,” she shouted back at him. “You threw me away, told me it was over between us. After we’d— You told me, in no uncertain terms, that you were leaving to go back to college in the morning and you wouldn’t be back. Ever.”
Shaking his head, he answered, “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I know exactly what I’m talking about. I’ve never forgotten it.” She took a step back. “Take me home. I want to go home. Now.”
He felt the walls closing in on him. He hadn’t wanted to leave her, but he hadn’t been given a choice. His parents decided he would go to college, not become a rancher. It wasn’t what they’d planned for him. He still wondered why the one thing he’d wanted had never mattered to them.
“It’s raining,” he said, pointing at the windows streaked with rain.
“Now.”
He wouldn’t keep her there against her will. “Okay. But this isn’t finished.”
“Yes, it is.”
They didn’t speak a word on the short drive to the Walker ranch, where there’d been very little rain, if any. He drove up the lane and past the barn, bringing the truck to a stop within a few yards of her RV. She opened the door and jumped out, not even giving him a chance to say anything. But what could he say? He had ended it with her. But it hadn’t been as much for himself as it had been for her.
Back home, he stripped down and climbed into bed, his head throbbing, as the words they’d said to each other repeated over and over. He barely slept, and when the sun came up in the morning, he still didn’t know how he felt, except for being confused and hurt.
When Erin didn’t show up for work an hour after the others started their day, he began to worry. Maybe they would never get this figured out. He owed her an explanation, but he didn’t know how to do it or even if he should try. Did it matter now? He didn’t think it did. And she might not believe him.
“Do you think she left?” Jonah asked, another hour later, as they led the horses out of the barn.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. But he needed to know. “I’ll go check on her.”
“But if she isn’t there—”
“I’ll talk to her brothers if she isn’t. If she is, I don’t think she’d mention to them that something happened. If she decided to leave, she’d just...leave.”
“She might not tell you or her brothers,” Jonah said, “but she’d tell me. I know she would.”
“Maybe,” Jake said. And maybe not.
Twenty minutes later, he arrived at the Walker ranch to find Erin working with MacDuff in the corral—a sure sign she had things on her mind she didn’t want to think about.
Not wanting to spook her or her horse, he stayed far enough away to see and hear, but made sure he didn’t appear to be hiding. No need to give her more reason to be angry. He needed to talk to her. But first, he wanted to see if the training had progressed.
It didn’t take long to realize there’d been a lot of changes, both in her horse and in her. Instead of losing her temper, she spoke gently but firmly. MacDuff took the barrels as if he’d been born to do it. No hesitation as he rounded the first and the others. Erin had found whatever had been missing.
When she finished the last round, Jake approached the corral. “I knew you could do it,” he said as he reached the fence.
When she looked up, her wide-eyed gaze met his. Apparently she hadn’t seen him watching her. Neither a smile nor a frown appeared on her face. “Thanks to you,” she said.
It took him by surprise. “What did I do?”
She busied herself with the saddle cinch. “You made me think, and I realized...I guess I’ve been too eager and expected too much from a horse that I didn’t want to hold a candle to Firewind.”
“You would have figured it out.”
“And I would have told you about having your baby.”
He didn’t know whether to believe her or not. “But you said—”
“I know what I said,” she stated simply, keeping her attention on her horse and saddle. “I never planned to tell you. I never expected to see you again. I never expected to see our son, either.”
She made it sound so simple. He saw the simplicity, too, but in a different way. By not telling him, she’d lied. He didn’t know if he could ever forgive her for that.
He wondered how she’d managed to do what she’d done—give away a child. Their child. “Did it get easier?” he asked.
Her hands stilled and she turned her head to look at him. “If you think I’m going to say it was, you’re wrong. It didn’t get easier. I found a way to keep it from being uppermost in my mind, but it would sneak in when I least expected, and then it felt like hitting a wall at high speed.” Her hands dropped to her sides and she faced him. “It hurt, Jake. All of it. And I know you hurt, too, right now. But I can’t take it back. I can’t undo what I did.”
He couldn’t fight her. It would only make it harder for all of them. Worse, he couldn’t change what had happened. They had to move forward. But in which direction?
“Jonah was afraid you’d quit,” he finally said.
“My job?”
He nodded. He didn’t want h
er to leave. But he didn’t know how he would be able to see her every day and act as if nothing had happened.
“It’s up to you, Jake,” she said without looking at him. “If you don’t want me around, say so. I’ll find something else.”
Unable to answer, he stood, watching her. He’d loved her for so long, he didn’t know if he could stop. And he did still love her, but it was buried in his anger and her betrayal. If he could get past that...
“You didn’t come to work today,” he said, “so he thought—and so did I—that you’d left. That’s why I’m here.”
She grabbed the saddle with both hands but didn’t remove it from MacDuff. “Where would I go?”
He knew exactly where she’d go. “Back to rodeo.”
She slowly turned her head to study him. “It served me well when I needed it the most.”
“Will it again?”
She hesitated, then shrugged and pulled the heavy saddle toward her.
“Erin?” he asked, worried and afraid to hear her answer but knowing he needed to.
“I don’t know, Jake. Things have changed, now that I know who Jonah is.”
She had changed. Overnight. She’d lost her spark, and he couldn’t be sure what she might do. They’d both been angry the night before, and he still hadn’t gotten over it. And now she’d left it up to him. But they still had one thing in common. Jonah.
“He’s only here for the summer,” he said, as much to himself as to her.
“If that,” she answered.
At first, he didn’t understand what she meant. “You think he’ll leave now?”
“I don’t know what he’ll do.” She set the saddle on the ground and removed the saddle blanket from MacDuff.
He wondered how it had been for her, to give up their baby. To carry him for nine months, and then give him up. “You never saw him after he was born?”
She shook her head. “I couldn’t. Seeing him would have meant...” She shook her head again. “But there’s one thing I do know.”
“What’s that?”
“He needs to call his parents.”
Jake hadn’t thought of that. Typical Erin, thinking of others and how they might feel. “You’re probably right.”
“I know I am.”
He watched as she picked up the saddle blanket and took it into the barn. He waited until she returned for the saddle. “I’ll get that for you.”
Bending down, she looked over her shoulder. “I’m a big girl now, Jake. I can do my own work. But thanks for the offer.”
They were back at square one. Polite. No, they were in a place he didn’t know. Not with Erin. Not the Erin he knew. Would that sass come back? Did he want it to? Could he walk away and never look back? He’d been looking back for so long, it wouldn’t be easy not to.
Questions were all he had. No answers. And he needed answers, if only to help him move out of this hole of not knowing what to do or say.
“Come to work tomorrow, Erin,” he said without thinking. “We’ll talk to Jonah in the morning, tell him to call his parents and let them know where he is.”
“And who he’s with.” With a grunt, she jerked the saddle from the ground and walked on to the barn.
Who he’s with. He’d been so wrapped up in his own feelings, he hadn’t given any thought to the two people who’d raised his son. He owed them an explanation and his thanks. He and Erin both did.
He climbed over the fence and met her at the door to the barn. “You’ll come to work tomorrow, then?”
“Less questions to answer from the others if I do.”
She had a point. “Yeah, that’s true,” he said. Somehow they would have to keep the other cowboys from seeing that anything had changed. “But can we—”
“We don’t have a choice.”
Another good point. She’d known exactly what he’d been thinking. They would have to talk to Jonah before the others arrived.
“Come a little early,” he told her, ready to go back and tell Jonah she hadn’t gone. “I won’t say anything to Jonah about calling his parents until you’re there.”
“All right. Now can I get my horse?”
For a second, he didn’t know what she meant, and then he remembered she’d left MacDuff in the corral. Erin never put a horse away without giving it a good grooming.
“Sure,” he said, backing away. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Her mouth turned up in a smile, but her eyes were dull. Empty. “I’ll be there with bells on.”
He doubted they would be ringing for him.
* * *
“GIVE IT YOUR BEST. Don’t let him get the upper hand, and don’t let him get to you,” Erin said to herself on her way to Jake’s ranch the next morning. It wasn’t all about her and Jake, it involved Jonah and his parents, too. If she and Jake worked together, they could make a difference.
When she came to the corral on the near side of the ranch, she checked to make sure the other wranglers hadn’t arrived and spied Jake on the porch. She didn’t see Jonah.
Crossing to the house, she stepped onto the porch, where he sat with a cup of coffee.
“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” he answered, buttering a piece of toast.
His lack of trust in her hurt. But she wouldn’t let him know how much. “Then you don’t know me as well as you think you do. I don’t walk out on people.”
He put down the knife and toast and looked at her. “But you think I walked out on you.”
She shook her head. “I didn’t mean that, but think whatever you like. Is Ada here yet?”
“She’ll be here soon.”
“I didn’t know she would be cooking breakfast, too.”
“I didn’t plan on it, but she asked if she could. I’d be a fool to turn that down. She makes the best omelets and pancakes.”
“She makes the best everything,” Erin said. But she hadn’t come early because of that. “Is Jonah up yet?”
“He’s in the barn doing some chores I gave him.” He pushed away from the table and stood. “So now we do what we planned.”
“And that is...?”
“Call his parents.”
She didn’t feel comfortable doing that but followed him into the house. “We go behind his back? Why not let him call them?”
He stopped and turned back to look at her. “Because he wouldn’t do it.”
He continued through the kitchen and turned the corner into a room that appeared to be an office. “Why would you think that?” she asked.
Motioning to an empty chair, he stood behind the desk. “Trust me, Erin. I’ve been there. Sixteen, seventeen, even eighteen, it doesn’t matter. A guy that age will only tell his parents what he believes they want to hear.”
“Isn’t that pretty much any teenager?” she asked with a smile.
“Maybe. Probably,” he relented, “but I’m speaking from personal experience.”
The look he gave her had her wondering what he had told his own parents about his summers on his uncle’s ranch. Had he ever mentioned her?
He pulled a paper out of his desk drawer. “I have their phone number, and I’m fairly sure they’ll both be there this early in the morning. Jonah mentioned once that his dad is a banker. I don’t think he meant to, but...bankers often work later hours, or at least those I’ve known do.”
She stopped a sigh. It all seemed so cloak-and-dagger, and her conscience rebelled against it. “How did you get their number?”
“I took it from his phone. I’d say Home would mean just that, wouldn’t you?”
She nodded slowly, wishing she knew how to tell him how much she didn’t think they should do this. But she didn’t want to argue. There’d been enough of that. “Which of us is going to do the talking?”
<
br /> “Me.”
“Maybe I should—”
“No,” he answered before she could finish. “I’ve given it a lot of thought. It’ll be fine.”
She doubted it, but she didn’t say so. “All right. But how will I know what they’re saying?”
He opened another drawer. “With this,” he said, handing her a cordless phone. “But put it on mute. Two of us talking at once might get confusing.”
“If you say so,” she replied but still didn’t like it. At least she wouldn’t be left out of the conversation.
“Let me dial, and when someone answers, you turn on your phone.” He waited until she nodded. “Okay. Are you ready?”
She nodded again.
Seconds ticked by, then Jake said, “Mrs. Butterfield?”
Erin turned on her phone, muted it and listened.
“Yes, this is Mrs. Butterfield.”
“My name is Jake Canfield, ma’am. I own the ranch where your son Jonah is working.”
She gasped, and quickly said, “Is Jonah all right?”
Erin smiled. She’d had a feeling Jonah’s mother had a good heart. The woman’s reaction convinced her of it.
“He’s fine,” Jake said. “I wasn’t sure you knew exactly where he is, so I thought I should let you know.”
In the background, Erin heard a man’s voice and guessed it was Jonah’s dad. Voices were suddenly muffled, and then someone spoke into the phone.
“Who is this?” the man said. When Jake repeated the information he’d given Mrs. Butterfield, the man grunted. “You’re employing a minor. You know that, don’t you?”
“Yes, that’s why I’m calling,” Jake answered. “Farms and ranches in Oklahoma can employ minors, but as I told your wife, I wasn’t sure if you knew exactly where he is, and I wanted to assure you that he’s fine and doing a great job.”
Another grunt echoed over the lines. “Ranching,” he said, as if it were a bad word. “I don’t know where he got this crazy idea, but—”
“From me,” Jake said. He glanced at Erin. “I think I understand where he’s coming from. I was the same way, at his age.”
“I don’t see how that relates to—”
The Cowboy Meets His Match (Fatherhood) Page 12
