Daddy Wore Spurs (Mills & Boon Cherish) (Men of the West, Book 32)

by Stella Bagwell

  “I figure she made that assumption. But I never told her any such thing. Only a braggart starts spouting off information like that to a woman he’s just met,” he said. “I don’t expect you share the balance of your bank account with the men you meet.”

  Pulling back her shoulders, she said, “I don’t meet that many men. But if I did, they wouldn’t hear about my finances. I just wondered…”

  “If Aimee pursued me because of my wealth?” he asked wryly. “I think the fact that she didn’t attempt to continue our relationship tells you how much she appreciated my money.”

  Mariah thoughtfully swiped a soapy sponge slowly over a saucer. “I don’t mean to pry, Finn. I’m just trying to understand why my sister put off contacting you about Harry. Could be she was worried about you getting custody—since you could provide more financial security for him. Far more than she ever could. But that doesn’t make much sense, either. Because she wasn’t afraid to put your name on the birth certificate.”

  He moved a step closer and Mariah’s nerves twisted even tighter.

  “I don’t think you ought to be worrying over Aimee’s motives anymore,” he said. “Harry’s future is the main issue now. And that brings us to the DNA test. Do you think we can get that taken care of tomorrow?”

  Her throat went tight as she glanced over at him. “You’re not wanting to waste any time, are you?”

  “Dallying around won’t tell us anything. And my job on the Horn is—well, pretty demanding. I need to get back there as soon as possible.”

  “I suppose I can call the school and let them know I need to take a couple hours off in the morning. Long enough for us to go to the health department and get the samples taken,” she said guardedly. “That way you can go on back to Nevada. And receive the results in the mail.”

  “That isn’t going to happen.”

  His instant retort had her dropping the sponge and squaring around to face him. “What does that mean?”

  “It means I’m not about to leave here without Harry.”

  The determination in his voice sent a chill slithering down her spine. “And what if you’re not his father? All that waiting will be wasted.”

  His clear blue gaze traveled over her face in a way that made Mariah forget about breathing.

  “Let me be the judge of that,” he said quietly.

  Shoving a hand in her hair, she pushed it off her forehead, while silently yelling at her heart to slow down. Otherwise, she was going to faint right at his feet.

  Drawing in a steadying breath, she said, “You must be feeling confident that Harry is your child.”

  “I am. And deep down you believe I’m his father, too. Don’t you?”

  Clamping her jaw tight, she was determined not to let him see her cry, to let him know that the thought of losing Harry was shattering her whole being.

  Turning back to the sink full of dishes, she picked up the sponge and twisted it until soapy foam covered both hands. “I’ll believe what the DNA test says,” she said hoarsely. “Nothing less.”

  She was fighting back tears when she felt him move behind her and place his hand on her shoulder. Mariah squeezed her eyes shut as heat raced up the side of her neck and down her arm.

  “Mariah,” he said gently, “I’m not an ogre. I can see how much you love Harry. But a man who could leave his son—well, he wouldn’t be much of a man. Would he?”

  Swallowing hard, she turned to face him, but the moment her gaze met his, her self-control crumbled and she began pounding her fist against his chest. “No, damn you! I wished I’d never called you! I’d have my baby and you’d never know the difference!”

  By the time he grabbed her flying fists and anchored them tightly against his chest, she was sobbing, her cheeks drenched with tears. But what this man thought about her no longer mattered. All she cared about was Harry.

  “Hush, Mariah. Please, don’t cry.”

  He gently drew her forward, until her wet cheek was pressed against the middle of his chest and his hand was stroking the back of her head.

  Even if Mariah had wanted to resist, the solid comfort of his arms, the tender touch of his fingers upon her hair, was a balm to her raw nerves. A man hadn’t touched her this way in ages. She hadn’t wanted one to touch her. Until now.

  Eventually, the warmth of his arms eased the chill inside her and dried the tears in her eyes. By then, his masculine scent and the hard muscle beneath her cheek were turning her thoughts in a totally different direction.

  He murmured against the top of her head. “Better now?”

  The husky note in his voice shivered through her like a cold drink on a hot day. So good. So perfect. But she couldn’t keep standing here in his arms, letting her erotic thoughts get out of control.

  Quickly, she stepped back from his tempting body and wiped fingers against the traces of tears on her cheeks.

  “Forgive me,” she whispered. “I’m behaving like a shrew. But I—” Her gaze met his and her heart very nearly stopped as she spotted a sensual gleam in his blue eyes. Had the embrace they’d just shared affected him, too? Or were her scattered senses making her see things that weren’t really there?

  His lips took on a wry slant. “Forget it, Mariah. I can take a few punches. Besides, you made your point. You chose to call me. Otherwise I wouldn’t have known anything about Harry. Unless by some chance I ran across some of her old friends at a horse show, and even then, I probably wouldn’t have made the connection of me being her child’s father.”

  His expression softened. “I’m grateful that you made that call, Mariah. Even though I understand how much it’s breaking your heart.”

  Blinking at a fresh wave of tears, she turned back to the sink and thrust her hands into the water. Better there than pounding them against Finn’s chest and making a complete neurotic fool of herself, she thought dismally.

  A shaky breath shuddered past her lips. “Harry deserves a father,” she said bluntly.

  He moved a few steps away and Mariah went limp with relief. For the first time in her life, she couldn’t trust herself near a man.

  “The afternoon is getting late,” he said, “and I haven’t gotten a room in town yet. Can you recommend a good place to stay?”

  She glanced over her shoulder at him and suddenly without warning, she heard herself saying, “You don’t need to drive back to town. You’re welcome to stay here. There are plenty of empty bedrooms and you’d be close to Harry.”

  And to me.

  The voice in her head came out of the blue. Just as her unplanned invitation had come from a place inside her she hadn’t known existed. Dear Lord, she must be cracking up. Earlier, she’d wanted rid of this man. Now she wanted to get closer to him. This cowboy was putting some sort of hypnotic spell on her.

  “It’s nice of you to offer, Mariah, but I don’t expect you to put me up for the night.”

  The arch of his brows said her invitation had surprised him. But it couldn’t have surprised him any more than it had her.

  “Dad would’ve already insisted you be our guest,” she reasoned. “I wouldn’t feel right doing any less.”

  “But you live here alone.”

  She frowned. “What’s that got to do with it?”

  “I wouldn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

  Heat rushed to her cheeks. “I trust you to be a gentleman. And you look like a strong guy—you can help me with the barn chores.”

  The broad smile he gave her was like a dazzling ray of sunshine. It warmed Mariah as nothing had in a long time.

  “You just got yourself a ranch hand and a houseguest. Thank you, Mariah.”

  She inclined her head in agreement. “If you’d like to fetch your things, I’ll show you where to put them.”

  “I’ll be right back,” he promised.

  Once he was gone from the room, Mariah leaned weakly against the cabinet and wondered if she just made the biggest mistake of her life. Opening her home to Finn wasn’t going to
make him change his mind about taking Harry.

  Oh, come on, Mariah. Inviting him to stay here on the ranch had nothing to do with Harry. You want him around because looking at him is a constant thrill. Hearing his voice shivers over your senses like sweet, slow music. And touching him made your whole body ache for more.

  Disgusted with the mocking voice in her head, Mariah left the kitchen and hurried toward the block of bedrooms located at the back of the house. As she collected clean linen for Finn’s bed, she assured herself that she wasn’t about to be charmed by the Nevada horseman. She had more important and pressing issues in her life to deal with. Like finding out whether Finn actually was Harry’s father.

  *

  Later that evening, Finn stood in the middle of the ranch yard, surveying the barns and surrounding landscape. From what he could see from his limited view, the ranch was a beautiful property. Run-down in places, but still very usable.

  Not far to the east of the barns and corrals, forest-covered mountains formed a towering green wall. To the west, the land swept away to an open valley floor dotted with a mixture of hardwoods and evergreens. Some twenty to thirty miles beyond the valley, tall blue mountains etched a ragged horizon against the sky. Stallion Canyon was a much greener land than that of the Horn, and the beauty of it made Finn long to straddle a horse and explore the foothills and meandering streams.

  He wondered if Mariah ever had the urge to ride over the ranch, or had the financial difficulties she’d been under robbed all pleasures she’d taken from the place?

  Damn it, he wished he could quit thinking about the woman. Quit wondering why she’d invited him to stay here on Stallion Canyon. Especially when his presence only seemed to upset her.

  You didn’t have to accept her invitation, Finn. You could have told her a quick “no thank you.” Instead, you couldn’t accept fast enough. So you could be near Harry, you told yourself. Bull. Admit it, you want to be near Mariah, too.

  Fighting away the condemning voice in his head, he walked over to a long shed row running the length of a large red barn. A black stallion was hanging his head over a stall gate, and Finn was instantly drawn to the horse.

  “Hey there, handsome guy,” he greeted the animal. “I’ll bet you’d like it if I got you out of there, wouldn’t you?”

  The horse nudged his nose against Finn’s hand and he obliged the animal by gently stroking his face. After a moment, Finn moved his hand on down the strong, arched neck. There, beneath the long curtain of black mane, he found the alpha angles of a BLM freeze brand, which was made by freezing a copper iron with liquid nitrogen before pressing it to the animal’s hide. The process turned the hair on the horse white, rather than burning it off. The white symbols the BLM used could be translated to reveal what state the horse had originally come from, its age, and its own individual code number.

  The sight of the markings against the horse’s black coat tugged at something deep within Finn. The stallion had once run wild and free over the mountains and plains. Most likely he’d had his own harem of mares and had fought valiantly to keep his family safely at his side.

  Now this majestic animal was confined behind fences, and though he was getting more nutrition and care than he could’ve ever possibly obtained out on the range, Finn would love to see him running free on miles of grazing land, with a band of mares racing close behind him.

  The image brought back all the arguments he’d had in the past with his father and grandfather over the mustangs. For three or more years now, Finn had fought to incorporate wild horses into the breeding program on the Silver Horn, but Orin and Bart had strongly resisted.

  Now that Finn was standing face-to-face with this regal animal, his determination to work with a herd of mustangs grew even stronger. Sooner than later, he was going to take a stand for what he wanted. And he wasn’t going to back down.

  The ring of his cell interrupted his thoughts and he reluctantly pulled the instrument from a leather holder fastened to his belt.

  “Hi, Dad,” he greeted. “What’s up?”

  “I’ve been ringing your phone for the past two hours! We’ve been sitting on pins and needles back here waiting to hear from you!”

  “Sorry. These past few hours have been like a roller coaster. I’ve just now gotten a chance to grab a quiet moment.”

  Orin said, “You sound exhausted.”

  Finn’s gaze drifted away from a pen of mares and over to the house. Seeing Harry for the first time and dealing with Mariah’s emotional reactions had done something to him. He wasn’t the same man who’d driven away from the Silver Horn Ranch early this morning. But trying to explain that to his father would sound ridiculous.

  “It’s not every day that a man sees his son for the first time. A son he didn’t know he had.”

  A long pause followed, then Orin said, “Sounds like you’ve made up your mind pretty damn quick about this baby.”

  “The boy resembles me, Dad. His hair is auburn and curly. And he has my dimples. Aimee named him Harrison Ray after me and Mr. Montgomery. Mariah calls him Harry, and I’ve already found myself calling him Harry, too.”

  “Hmm. Right after you were born Dad called you Harry. Until your mother ordered him to stop. Still, a name doesn’t make him yours. Or red hair and dimples.”

  “No. But I have a feeling inside me and it’s telling me that Harry is mine,” Finn reasoned. “I was right about Sassy being my sister. I’m right about Harry, too.”

  Orin sighed. “Could be you’re letting your wants interfere with your reasoning. These past few years your brothers and sister have been having children. It’s only natural for you to want the same.”

  Finn wiped a weary hand across his forehead and tried not to let his father’s suggestion annoy him. It was true his siblings were having babies left and right. But that hardly meant Finn wanted the same for himself. Hell, he didn’t even have a steady girlfriend. And rarely found the time to go out on a casual date, much less make room in his life for a wife and child.

  Finn said, “Well, don’t worry, Dad. Monday morning Mariah and I are taking Harry into town and having a DNA test done.”

  “Good. Was this the aunt’s idea, or yours?”

  Finn grimaced. “We both thought it was the best way to resolve the issue.”

  “Well, apparently she isn’t grabbing the first chance to push the baby off on you. Has she or any of her family demanded money yet?”

  It wasn’t like his father to bring up the issue of money. Especially where a child’s welfare was concerned. But this was an unusual circumstance, one that had left Finn feeling a little embarrassed. Having one-night stands wasn’t his style. But the revelation of Harry had certainly made him look like an irresponsible lothario. Now his father was probably thinking Finn’s philandering was going to cost the family a fortune.

  Biting back a groan, he said, “There is no Montgomery family to speak of, Dad. It’s just Mariah. And she’s hardly out for money.” Resting a shoulder against the board fence of the stall, Finn gazed at the back of the ranch house some fifty yards away. When he’d left to come out here to the barns, Mariah had been in the kitchen preparing some sort of dessert she planned to bake. She’d been quiet and reflective, and Finn didn’t have to wonder what was on her mind. “I am concerned about her, though. She considers herself Harry’s mother. Giving him up is going to crush her.”

  “She needs to remember she’s only the aunt. Whether it’s you or some other man, Harry has a father and he has every right to his son.”

  Finn absently reached over and stroked the stallion’s jaw. “It’s not just the issue of Harry. Without her dad and sister to train the horses, the ranch is going broke. She’s been forced to put it up for sale. If I take Harry she’ll be losing him and her home. So I’m not exactly dealing with a pleasant situation up here, Dad.”

  His father was silent for so long Finn thought the connection between them had broken.

  “Dad, are you still there?”


  “Yes, son. Just thinking. How old is this woman, anyway?”

  Finn mouthed a curse word under his breath. “She’s twenty-eight. But what the heck does her age have to do with anything?”

  “Finn, you’re not up there to fix Ms. Montgomery’s problems. This is about a baby and whether you’re the father. I hope you remember that.”

  What did his father think he was? A teenager, whose brain was dictated by raging hormones instead of common sense? The idea clamped his jaw tight.

  Finn’s silence must have made a point. After a moment, Orin asked, “Are you okay, son? Do you need for me or one of your brothers to come up there?”

  His slouched stance suddenly went rigid as he straightened away from the fence. “No! I’ll handle this in my own way!”

  “There’s no need for you to get defensive, Finn.”

  He was more than defensive. He was disappointed and hurt that his father didn’t trust him to use a lick of sense about Harry or Mariah, or any of it.

  “Look, Dad, don’t expect me to just brush Mariah’s feelings aside. Maybe that’s the way Gramps would do it. But not me!”

  “Okay, Finn. You want to keep your family out of it, so handle it your own way.”

  It was all Finn could do to keep from yelling out a curse word. “I’m not trying to keep my family out of this. But this is my baby. Not yours or Clancy’s or Rafe’s or Evan’s or Bowie’s. I think I have enough sense to decide what my son does or doesn’t need!”

  “Fine,” Orin said bluntly. “So what are your plans? When do you think you’ll be coming home?”

  “I’ll be staying here on Stallion Canyon until we get the results of the DNA test,” Finn told him.

  “But that could be weeks! I know you haven’t forgotten when you and Sassy had the test. It felt like we waited forever on those results.”

  “I’m hoping the process has speeded up since then,” Finn said. “Will you be able to handle my job until I get back? If not, Colley can. He knows as much about horses as I do.”

  “I can handle it.”

  His father sounded snippy, but Finn wasn’t going to fret about that. The Silver Horn ranch had an endless number of hands and the money to keep everything running in tip-top condition. Moreover, his father had all sorts of family surrounding him and supporting him with whatever endeavor or problem arose.