Cowboy on the Run

by Anne McAllister

  The boy just shrugged. He didn't even look up.

  Rance had had enough. "Answer your mother," he said sharply.

  Josh's head jerked up in surprise. He shot Rance a hard glare. "I don't know," he said to his mother. His tone of voice left a lot to be desired.

  "How about a game of Chinese checkers?" she suggested.

  "Naw, that's stupid."

  Rance bit the inside of his cheek to keep from saying anything.

  "Monopoly?"

  Josh snorted. "He already owns the whole state."

  Ellie's smile faltered. "Josh," she began gently.

  "He does!" Josh's temper flared. "An' now he thinks he can just walk in here and take us over, too. Well, you might want his money! I guess you might even want him!" He stood up and shoved his chair back. "But I don't know why! He's not like Dad! Did you just forget about Dad 'cause he's dead an' you're not? Don't you care anymore?"

  "Josh!" Ellie looked stricken.

  Rance shot to his feet, flattened his palms on the table and glared at the boy who stared defiantly back at him. "Don't you ever accuse your mother of not caring!" he said through his teeth. "Don't you throw your father's death in her face! You have no right! None. Apologize to her. Now!"

  "Rance." Now Ellie was trying to gentle him.

  But Rance was beyond gentling. He'd had it with ungrateful brats. He'd had it with sulky, selfish children. He ignored her, kept his eyes fixed firmly on Josh.

  Josh's eyes were flashing just as angrily as his. "Don't tell me what to do! What right do you have to tell me anything?"

  "All the right in the world," Rance said. "You're my son."

  Chapter 10

  « ^ »

  "I'm sorry. I lost my temper. I—" Rance raked his fingers through his hair "—I just reached the end of my rope," he said shakily. "I'll go after him."

  Josh was fast disappearing down the steps and across the yard. He was running, desperate and angry, but Ellie knew Rance could catch him. Still, she shook her head. "No."

  "He'll run off."

  "No. He won't. At least I hope he won't. I … I think he'll go to the tree house."

  "The tree house? Why would he do that? There's a whole damn forest up there for him to lose himself in."

  "I know. But Spike—" she had trouble saying his name "—Spike used to tell the boys, especially Josh, that the tree house was their place—that it was off limits to parents. He told them we'd never intrude, never come in unless they invited us. He said it was important that they had that. He said it was safer that way—that there would be times when we'd all need space, and that it would give them a place to go to cool off." She prayed Spike was right.

  Rance looked half impressed, half doubtful. "Well, I hope he's right. But I'd be in the next county now, if I felt the way Josh does."

  Ellie smiled faintly, appreciating his honesty. She knew it had to hurt to have seen the furious denial on Josh's face. "He doesn't hate you," she said gently.

  "You could have fooled me."

  "He's just loyal. He was Spike's right-hand man. 'The foreman,' Spike always called him. Odd as it might seem, of all the kids, Josh was the one who was most like his da—" she stopped "—like Spike."

  "Like his dad," Rance corrected harshly. He stalked to the door and stared out. "Spike is his dad. He might be my son, too. But Spike is Josh's only dad."

  Ellie could hear the pain in his voice, and she wanted to assure him that wasn't true. "I … I should have told him when you first asked me to. I kept hoping you two would get along better. I kept waiting for the right opening. It's my fault. I'll go."

  "I'll come with you."

  "No. I'm the one who needs to talk to him. He won't listen to you. I'm the one who has to explain, to make him understand."

  "Understand?" Rance snorted. "Don't you believe it."

  "I have to try," Ellie said urgently. "He's hurt and he's angry and it's my fault. I have to try."

  It was a lie.

  Josh knew it was a lie.

  Why else would a guy who didn't even like him say such a lousy thing? Rance knew it would hurt him where it mattered most.

  Josh huddled against the wall of the tree house, hugging his arms around his knees and pressed his eyes against the soft denim of his jeans.

  It was a lie!

  "Josh?" He heard his mother's voice down below. She sounded worried, nervous.

  Let her worry, he thought, hugging his knees tighter. But then he thought, it wasn't her fault. She wasn't the one who had lied. She hadn't said he was Rance's son. She knew it wasn't true!

  Maybe she was coming to tell him that it was all right, that she was sending Rance away, that she didn't like him anymore because he was a liar.

  Because he was a liar!

  "Josh! Are you up there, honey?"

  Still he didn't answer. He couldn't make his voice work. It felt all froggy and awful, and he knew he would cry if he tried to say anything. He had almost cried before he'd got out of the house. That was why he'd ran.

  He'd yelled, "That's a lie! You know it's a lie!" And then he'd hiccupped, and he'd felt his throat start to close, and he'd known he would do something stupid like burst into tears if he stayed there one more second.

  There was no way on earth he was going to let a jerk like Rance Phillips see him cry. He shifted uncomfortably as he thought how close he had come to disgracing himself. His movement made the floorboards creak.

  "Josh." His mom didn't sound so frantic now. She must have heard the boards move and figured he was here.

  He was glad she hadn't climbed up to look. Dad had always said they wouldn't do that. When his dad had built the tree house, Josh had been five, and he hadn't quite understood what Spike had meant when he'd said, "A guy needs a bolt-hole, some place he can go to sort things out."

  Later he'd figured it out. But he'd never figured he'd need it like this.

  "I need to talk to you, Josh."

  He didn't answer. He still wasn't ready. He could still hear those awful words, "You're my son," in Rance's voice over and over, echoing in his head. He put his hands over his ears as if that could shut them out. But they didn't go away, no more than the memory of his mother's stricken face did.

  She'd looked as awful as she had when his dad had died. White-faced. Gut punched. The way Josh had felt when he and Matt had fought once, and one blow from Matt's fist had pounded all the air out of him.

  Josh felt the tree shake and he uncovered his ears. He could hear his mother climbing up the footholds, but she didn't come all the way.

  She stopped and said, "I won't come in, Josh. Not unless you invite me. But we really do need to talk."

  Josh cleared his throat. "T-talk to him," he rasped bitterly. "Tell him what a liar he is."

  There was silence from below.

  Josh's throat tightened again. He swallowed hard against the lump growing there. "Tell him," he insisted, and hated it when his voice broke.

  There was another movement from below, but she didn't get down. It felt more like she was settling in. "I'll talk to Rance later," his mother said at last. "Right now I have to talk to you."

  "So talk," Josh said grudgingly. For a long moment she didn't say anything—so long in fact that he felt sorry for forcing her to talk to him while she hung on to the steps his dad had hammered into the tree. "You can come up."

  She came up. He took her hand when she crawled through the narrow opening and helped her climb in. She still looked very pale, except for sort of bright spots of color on her cheeks, like she'd been running hard or something.

  "Thank you." She sat down beside him in the narrow space, and he could feel her eyes on him, probably seeing his blotchy face and red eyes. He didn't look at her. His fingers curled into fists against the tops of his thighs.

  "What Rance said," she said quietly, the words coming slowly, "is true, Josh."

  His head jerked around. He stared at her. Then he started to push himself up, to scramble away from her. But s
he reached out a hand and caught his arm, holding him there. He struggled against her, tried to pull out of her grasp, but she held on tight.

  "Will you listen to me?" she said.

  "No!"

  "Please, Josh. This is my fault, not Rance's."

  "It's his fault if I'm his kid," Josh spat. "I may be dumb, but I know that!"

  "You're not dumb," his mother said. "Come here and sit down. Let me tell you. Let me say what I should have said a long, long time ago."

  He didn't want to hear. He didn't want her to say any of it. "Dad's my dad," he whispered brokenly. And though he sat down beside her and tried to be still and steady and calm, he couldn't stop the tears. Not all of them. They leaked out the corners of his eyes and ran down his cheeks. He swiped angrily at them with the sleeve of his shirt.

  "Dad is your dad, Josh," she agreed softly. "In every way that really counts, Spike O'Connor is your father." She paused, and Josh thought for a minute he'd missed something that would make it all make sense. But then she added, "But he did not get me pregnant, darling. Rance did that."

  Josh didn't answer. He didn't move. If he held himself really still, he thought maybe the words would wash right over him. They wouldn't matter any more than water in a river, sliding over the rocks and going away. Far away.

  "We were in college together, like I told you," his mother said. Her voice was kind of soft and shaky, and he wanted to tell her to stop talking because it sounded like it hurt her too much. But he sensed that she was like that water he was thinking about. That whatever she was going to tell him, she couldn't dam it up anymore. It was just going to spill out no matter what either of them wanted.

  "We … cared for each other very much. I loved him, Josh. I loved Rance Phillips." Her voice got firmer when she said that. Stronger. As if she wanted him to know that she meant it. "I … slept with him. And I got pregnant with you."

  Josh didn't move. He heard the words. Felt them. Not just beating on the outside of him, but hitting him somewhere inside, too. Deep inside—like near his heart maybe. It hurt there. He swallowed, trying to make the hurt go away. He squeezed his eyes shut, but that didn't help, either.

  He wanted his dad. He wanted his dad to be there, to put strong arms around him and crush him hard against his chest, the way he had when Josh was little and had slammed his fingers in the truck door. "I'll hold you so tight you can give the pain to me," Spike had told him.

  And whether or not Spike had felt the actual pain, Josh had known his father shared it. He needed to share it now—the same way he'd needed to share the pain of his dad's death.

  It felt like they were taking his dad away all over again.

  And then he couldn't stop the tears. He sniffled and fought and blinked and coughed. But the coughs turned to sobs and his shoulders shook.

  Then his mom had her arms around him and was holding him tight—maybe not as tight as his dad—but tight. Her tears slid down past his ear and lingered on his cheeks, mingling with his own.

  It didn't make him feel better, but at least he didn't feel quite so alone.

  Rance was pacing a rut in the dirt floor of the barn.

  He prowled up and down, back and forth, pausing every time he came near the door, to look toward the tree house. He itched to go after Ellie, to find Josh, to talk to him—to do something. He wasn't used to having to sit on his hands, to let someone else handle things—not when his future hung in the balance. But now he had to.

  He'd promised Ellie.

  So he muttered. And paced. In the beginning he'd paused by the door long enough to watch while she called Josh's name. He couldn't believe the boy was there, but then he saw her start to climb up the wooden rungs. She went up two, then stopped and called Josh's name again.

  He's not there, Rance wanted to tell her. Stop standing around wasting time. Just stick your head in and check.

  But she didn't. She waited. And waited. He thought he'd go nuts.

  Finally, though, damned if she didn't get some sort of answer, because she looked toward where he was standing in the barn door, gave a thumb's-up sign, and then proceeded to climb the rest of the way in.

  That had been ages ago. Hours. Days, it seemed.

  Long enough for Rance to wear a heck of a rut in the dirt. He scowled out the door, up at the tree, paced some more, wishing he smoked so he'd have something to do with his hands.

  Then, at last, when it was nearly dark, he saw a pair of jeans-clad legs begin to descend the ladder, and Ellie landed on the ground.

  Rance started toward her, but Ellie waved him off.

  He frowned at her, but she shook her head and, sighing, he retreated into the barn once more.

  It took her forever to get there. But the minute she stepped inside the barn, he reached for her and pulled her into his arms.

  It was the first time he'd held her since the night they'd made love. He'd barely even been given a chance to touch her since he'd come back. She was shaking as she came to him, and he wrapped his arms around her and held her close.

  "Are you all right?"

  She nodded. "I think so." But he could feel her shivering. She didn't speak for a few moments, just stood there in the circle of his arms. He could have stood that way forever. But finally she spoke.

  "It was— Oh, God, Rance I felt so awful. It was so hard! I knew I was hurting him, and it was the last thing I wanted to do."

  "I'm the one who hurt him."

  "No." Her arms tightened around him for just a moment. "Well, only at the last instant. It started before that. It started years ago when Spike and I didn't tell him the truth. I had to explain all that. And I … I don't know what I just did to his relationship to his da—to Spike."

  "His dad," Rance said.

  She looked up at him, her eyes questioning. Rance gave a small shrug. "Spike was his dad. I know that. It's true what you said about sperm not making a father."

  Her gaze softened, and she hugged him again. "You love him, too."

  "Yeah. Not that he's exactly made it easy," Rance said gruffly. "But then, I didn't make it easy, either."

  Ellie leaned her head against his shoulder. "Nothing was easy. I don't even know if I managed. He was so quiet. I tried to get him to ask me things so I'd know what to tell him, but he didn't. Not much. Not many." She looked up at him again. "I told him I loved you. He wanted to know if you loved me."

  "I hope you told him yes."

  "I told him … I thought you did."

  "I did. I do." He kissed her, needing her desperately. And she kissed him, too. But far too soon she pulled away. "I can't," she said. "Not now. Not while Josh is—" She stopped and shook her head.

  "I'll talk to him." He started toward the door of the barn, but Ellie caught his arm.

  "Not now," she said. "He … needs a little time."

  Rance hesitated.

  "Please. You can talk to him tomorrow. He might be more ready to listen then."

  Frankly Rance doubted whether Josh would ever be ready to listen to him, but he nodded, then glanced toward the tree house. "He's staying there tonight?"

  "Yes."

  "Will he stay?" It was true what he'd told Ellie about being in the next county if someone had sprung something like this on him.

  Ellie nodded. "He promised. Spike promised him we'd never intrude without asking. I kept that promise. Josh will keep his, I'm sure."

  Rance bent his head. "Fair enough." He took her hand and drew her back into his arms once more. He kissed her again, tenderly, achingly, needing her with every fiber of his being—and knowing that, however much she wanted to stay with him, she wouldn't.

  He wouldn't have her tonight. She couldn't stay wrapped in the comfort of his arms when Josh was hurting.

  "I'll talk to him tomorrow," he said. "First thing in the morning."

  So much for plans.

  Rance had just come in for breakfast—and Josh wasn't even down from the tree yet—when Ellie noticed a black pickup she didn't recognize. It came ov
er the rise, down the hill and through the gate toward the house.

  She craned her neck. "I wonder who that is." She glanced at it again curiously through the kitchen curtains as she laid rashers of bacon in the frying pan.

  Rance didn't give a damn. He'd been awake all night, pacing, prowling, trying to figure out what to say to Josh—to his son. It was harder by far than any opening or closing argument he'd ever done.

  Maybe he should just go down to the tree house right now, wake Josh up and start talking. That way the kid might be still sleepy enough that Rance could get through most of it before he woke up enough to ask questions.

  Coward, Rance chastised himself. Okay, so he wouldn't do that.

  He cracked his knuckles and continued to pace.

  Ellie began to scramble eggs in the other frying pan. She put slices of bread in the toaster, then looked out the window again. "He's coming up to the door. Do you know him?"

  "Huh? Know who?" Rance didn't give a damn who was coming to the door. Unless it was Spike reincarnate, it couldn't possibly matter to him.

  "He looks sort of familiar," Ellie mused, stirring the eggs. "Get that, will you?" she said when they heard boot steps on the porch, followed by a brisk rap.

  Rance shrugged. "Yeah, whatever." He jerked open the door.

  "Dad?"

  Indeed it was. Trey Phillips stood on the porch, a bland, poker player's expression on his face.

  "I was in the neighborhood," he said conversationally, one brow lifted, as if he wondered whether Rance would buy his story, "so I reckoned I'd just drop in."

  Rance didn't say a word. Couldn't have, if his life depended on it.

  It probably did.

  Something close to rage was building inside his brain.

  Trey was oblivious. He looked past Rance's shoulder and smiled broadly. "Where're your manners, son? Aren't you going to introduce me?"

  Rance turned to see Ellie gaping at his father, then at him. Her mouth opened and shut and opened again. Finally she managed. "This is your father?"

  Hell. Damnation. Rance thought a few more things a whole lot more pithy and off-color than that. But he didn't say any of them because as sure as shootin' his father would smile a polite, despairing smile and make some crack about his manners. Rance did not need a lesson in manners right now.