He nailed his father with a glare that would have killed at fifty paces—if Trey Phillips had been the sort of man that looks could touch.
Of course he wasn't. The glare bounced right off his bulletproof personality. Still smiling, he stepped through the door, not waiting for Rance to offer an invitation. Doffing a black felt cowboy hat, Trey made an almost courtly bow to Ellie.
"For my sins, yes, ma'am, I am his father. John Ransome Phillips III. My friends all call me Trey." He was clearly including her among them as he held out a hand to her.
Ellie blinked. Then, almost mindlessly it seemed, she handed the fork to Rance with a look that said, Stir your own eggs. She took his father's hand and said in a whoosh of breath, "I'm Ellie O'Connor, Mr. Phillips. I'm pleased to meet you at long last."
Trey's left brow rose. He looked at her, intrigued. "At long last?"
Rance gnashed his teeth.
Ellie hesitated, as if she'd suddenly realized she might have said too much.
Too late now, Rance could have told her. You didn't give the old man a crumb of information you didn't want him to make a whole loaf out of.
Ellie was trying to ease her hand away, but Trey hung on, still smiling. Waiting. Like a lion waiting for the zebra at the water hole, Rance thought.
"We, um, knew each other years ago," Ellie said in a tone somewhere between vague and nervous. "In … college."
"Did you now?" Trey let go of her hand and rubbed his together. "Imagine that. Friends for all those years. You never brought her home." He turned an accusing gaze on Rance.
"I wasn't coming home in those days," Rance said through his teeth.
"Oh, right. I forgot." Which he hadn't at all, but Trey had always had a selective memory. If he didn't want to discuss the fact that Rance hadn't been home for seven long years, it wasn't that he'd forgotten. It was that it served his purpose not to bring it up. He gave a wave of his hand, as if the memory of Rance's college years' rebellion wasn't worth considering.
"You're not coming home much these days, either," he said pointedly. "Though now that I've met Ellie, I can certainly see why."
The words were pleasant enough. So was the smile. But he was studying Ellie like a scientist with a species of butterfly pinned to a board. He was weighing the attraction—and looking for an explanation at the same time.
One Rance had no intention of giving. His life was complicated enough at the moment without satisfying his meddling father's curiosity.
"What are you doing here?" Rance demanded now.
"I told you, I was in the neighborhood." Once more Trey smiled that bland challenge-me-if-you-dare smile. "Hadn't seen you in a while. Wouldn't think you were running our place, you never bein' there."
"I'm in touch. J.D.'s a good foreman. There's not much he can't handle. Except you."
Trey's teeth set for just a moment. Then he put his genial smile back in place and explained to Ellie, "He thinks I interfere." The implication was that nothing could have been further from the truth.
Rance's hands were making strangling motions.
"Anyway, J.D. tells me nothing," Trey said with some irritation. "Never has. I had to ask Lydia where you were."
Rance made a mental note to throttle Lydia the next time he saw her.
Trey smiled on. "And as I was coming down this way to check out a bull anyway, I thought I'd drop by … say hello to my son … meet the woman who's so intriguing he can't tear himself away."
Of course Ellie blushed. Rance wanted to say, Remember whose side you're on. "Well, now you've met her," he said, doing his best herd dog imitation as he tried unsuccessfully to maneuver Trey toward the door.
Trey didn't budge. "My, that coffee smells good."
Ellie gave Rance a helpless look. "You're welcome to have a cup, Mr. Phillips," she said to his father, "but we wouldn't want to keep you."
"Not a problem. I'd appreciate a cup. Been a long drive, and I wouldn't mind a little break. I'm not due at Denison's until early afternoon, anyway." He gave Rance a triumphant smile and moved past him toward the kitchen table.
Muttering under his breath, Rance followed.
Of course the coffee wasn't enough.
"Those eggs look mighty good," Trey told Ellie as she handed Rance his plate. And while he was at it, the old man decided he wouldn't mind a couple of strips of bacon. "Not more than two, though," he said. "A feller's gotta watch his diet these days." He patted his still-flat stomach. "Gonna get a paunch on you," he told Rance, "you eat like that every day."
"He eats oatmeal most mornings," Ellie said. "This is Sunday. It's special."
"Well, of course it is," Trey agreed. He smiled at her, his very own version of the I'm-a-Phillips-and-all-women-fall-at-my-feet smile. Then he dug with gusto into the breakfast she set before him.
Rance hadn't had much appetite before. Now he didn't have any at all.
If Trey noticed, he gave no sign. He set about alternately charming and quizzing Ellie. By the time he'd finished his breakfast and was working on his third cup of coffee, Trey knew her family history for four generations back. He knew about Spike and Spike's parents. He knew Ellie had four children.
"Four? My, my." Both brows arched this time and he looked at Rance with an are-you-sure-you-know-what-you're-doing? look. "Quite a handful. You must find it difficult alone?" Rance heard the question. He understood the subtext, too. It was, Are you trying to snag my son and his money to help you?
"Ellie does quite well on her own," he said.
"Does she." And that wasn't a question at all. Trey turned back to Ellie. "Boys? Girls?" he asked.
"Three boys, aged ten and eight. The younger two are twins," Ellie explained, "and a five-year-old girl."
"Very quiet children," Trey said, looking around as if he might spot them hiding under an afghan or sofa cushion.
Ellie smiled. "Not that quiet. The twins are in town at a friend's for the night. Carrie stayed with my mother-in-law. And Josh is out in the tree house."
"Ah." He sipped his coffee and said no more about them. He started talking about the law firm—a case Rance had passed on to Lydia that Trey had apparently been probing her about. He knew too much as far as Rance was concerned. He'd have to remind Lydia that, for all that his old man was a dear friend of her family, he should not be included in their legal maneuverings.
"You ought to get back and give that girl a hand," Trey said now.
"She doesn't need a hand," Rance said. "She's perfectly capable of doing everything that needs to be done."
"Ain't like you to shirk work."
"I'm not shirking!"
Trey's shoulders lifted in a negligent shrug. He sipped his coffee and shook his head.
Then there were footsteps on the porch, and slowly the back door opened.
"Ah, Josh!" Ellie smiled warmly as the boy came in.
He didn't look like he'd slept much more than Rance had. His uncombed hair stood in ruffled spikes on his head. His eyes were deeper set and smudged looking. His cheeks were still a little red. He looked at his mother and gave her a faint smile. He looked at Rance, his gaze steady and unflinching.
Rance met it, trying to say with his eyes what he wondered if he would ever be able to tell Josh in words. Then finally he looked away. At his father.
The old man sat there, knuckles white against the coffee cup, his mouth open, as he stared at Josh.
"This is my son," Ellie said to Trey. "Josh, this is Rance's father, Mr. Phillips."
Josh's expression grew guarded. He looked at Rance quickly, then back at Trey again. But when the older man didn't say anything, still sat there, unspeaking, Josh looked back at him again, studied him more closely.
All at once, Trey came to life again. He slapped his coffee cup down on the table and stood up. He held out his hand to Josh. "Pleased to meet you, son." And when the boy gravely shook his hand, a smile settled on Trey's face.
Then he turned to Ellie, "That was a mighty fine breakfast, ma'am. Best I've h
ad in years."
Ellie smiled a little warily. "I'm glad you enjoyed it, Mr. Phillips."
"Trey," he corrected. Then he turned to Rance, "Want to talk to you."
And the next thing Rance knew, his father was steering him out the door.
"What in the hell have you been doing?" Trey demanded the moment they were out of earshot of the kitchen.
Rance pulled his arm out of his father's grasp and continued walking toward the corral. "What the hell do you mean, what the hell have I been doing? You know what I've been doing. I'm helping Ellie out."
"You're courting."
"Well, yeah, I guess."
"You been courtin' for weeks! You were courtin' her before you came home."
"Yeah."
"And you been back here three weeks now!"
"Yeah."
"So what the hell are you waitin' for? Marry the damn woman!"
"What? Ten minutes ago you were doing your damnedest to get me out of here." Rance raised a hand when Trey would have protested. "Don't tell me you weren't. 'Lydia needs your help.' 'J.D. never hears from you.' What was that?"
"That," Trey spat, "was before I realized she'd had your son!"
Rance stopped dead and stared at him.
Trey stared back. "You're not going to deny it, are you? The boy is the spitting image of you at that age. Right down to that damn cowlick."
"Well, don't tell him that," Rance muttered.
"What? He doesn't know?"
"He knows now," Rance said heavily. "As of last night. I haven't even talked to him about it yet."
"Holy hell, Rance," Trey exploded, "what kind of mess are you making here?"
"I'm not making any mess," Rance said through his teeth. "I'm trying to clean one up. It's—" he raked fingers through his hair "—complicated."
"Don't seem very complicated to me. It'd be complicated if she was married," he reflected, "but she isn't. So it's simple. You get married."
"It isn't simple," Rance said. "I'm not going to pressure her into marrying me!"
"Why not?"
"Because that's not the kind of marriage I want!"
Trey snorted in disgust. "Doesn't mean it's the kind of marriage you'll have forever. It's a starting point."
"Not the right starting point."
Trey paced a furious circle in the dirt. "Well, if you wanted the right starting point, boy, you shouldn't've done things bass-ackwards."
"I didn't know I'd done it!"
Trey stared. "She didn't tell you?"
Rance kicked a fence post. "It's none of your business."
With monumental self-restraint, Trey drew a deep breath, then nodded his head. "I suppose it's not." But then he said, "What's past is past. I'll give you that. But what's going on now, is my business, too."
"Like hell."
"It is," Trey insisted. "He's my grandson."
"Well, he isn't going to be happy to hear it."
Trey scowled. "How do you know?"
"Because he doesn't like me. He doesn't want a father. He had the best father in the whole damn world, and I come up way short!"
Trey looked at him pityingly. "And you're just going to accept that?"
Rance sighed. He shook his head. "Of course I'm not going to accept it. But I can't push, either. He's a Phillips, remember. When's the last time you pushed a Phillips and got anywhere?"
The two men exchanged a glance that was both rueful and self-aware.
"So what're you going to do?" Trey asked finally.
"Stay put," Rance said. "Help her out. She needs that. She doesn't need me bullying her."
"And the boy?"
"I'll do my best. I can't bully him into accepting me, either."
"Hmph." That was all Trey could say. Then something in him seemed to settle in, take root. He drew himself up and squared his shoulders. "Well, if she needs help, we'll both help."
"What?"
"I'm moving in."
Chapter 11
« ^ »
In her wildest nightmares, Ellie had never imagined something like this: Trey Phillips was living—with his son—in her barn!
Not only that, he was working on her ranch! Eating off her dishes. Playing with her children. Balancing her books.
It was, to put it mildly, making her nervous.
"Can't you stop him?" she asked Rance.
"Last I heard, homicide was illegal in Montana," Rance said grimly. "Not that I'm not tempted, anyway."
"He thinks he's being kind," Ellie said.
"He knows damn well what he's doing," Rance replied. "And kindness has nothing to do with it."
"He's wonderful with the children," Ellie had to admit. "All the children." Though she saw at once that he was aware of just who Josh was, he didn't play favorites. He played catch with Daniel and built playing-card houses with Caleb. He read stories to Carrie. And he talked ranching to Josh. The boy had been a little reticent at first, but somehow Trey had won him over.
Rance hadn't been so lucky.
He had talked to Josh the morning after she did. She didn't know exactly what he'd said. That had been between Josh and him. But whatever it had been, it didn't seem to have smoothed the waters. There was certainly no "happily ever after."
At least not yet.
Though both she and Rance tried to maintain a cheerful demeanor, Josh was distant and sullen. He went out of his way to avoid Rance whenever he could.
She tried to tell herself—and Rance—that things would improve. "He'll come around," she said, and crossed her fingers and dared to hope.
But it wasn't improving fast. And having the old man there, determinedly and obviously succeeding where Rance was not, had to make things worse.
Just this morning, for example, Rance had asked Josh if he wanted to come along to move some cattle. Josh had said no, when she knew that with everything in him, that was exactly what he wanted to be doing.
But then Trey had started talking about going to look for horses. "A fella who's ten and as good a horseman as Josh, ought to start trainin' his own," he said.
And the next thing she knew, he had rounded up all the kids and, commandeering Sandra, too, he had bundled them all into the truck right after breakfast to go look at horses.
"He wouldn't buy Josh a horse, would he?" she asked Rance now. He had sat silently through the whole scene, watching with that hard, knowing look in his eyes.
Now he finished his coffee and put the mug in the sink. "Oh, yeah, he might."
Ellie's eyes widened. "Just like that?" She snapped her fingers, astonished at the extravagance of such a notion.
"He won't buy a bad horse. He's not stupid. The old man is a good judge of horseflesh." Rance's tone was gruff. "And a damn good judge of what makes ten-year-olds tick," he added grimly. "If I had tried that, Josh would have spat in my face. He'd have known I was buying him off."
"You'd never buy him off."
Rance shook his head. "I couldn't."
Ellie finished rinsing the plates, dried her hands and came to put her arms around him. "It's why I love you," she said.
His arms came, hard and tight, around her, holding her. And she held him, too. They'd been together, in the same house at least—yet apart—since the night Josh had learned he was Rance's son. Since then their relationship had been on hold.
But her need hadn't been—and neither had his.
"This is hell," he muttered.
"And heaven, sometimes," she said, resting her head against the curve of his neck and shoulder.
He pulled back a little to look down at her, a wry, disbelieving expression on his face.
She shrugged and smiled a little wryly, too. "At least you're here."
"I'd be here if we got married."
Her wry smile twisted a little more. "We can't. Not yet. You know that. Not with Josh feeling the way he does."
"He'd get used to it," Rance argued. His lower body was still pressed against hers. She could feel his need. She had understood. But tha
t wasn't all she understood.
"Would he?" she asked softly, looking right into his eyes.
She felt a harsh breath shudder through him. His fingers locked behind her, holding her close, but his eyes shut and his head bent so that their foreheads touched.
"Probably not," he muttered.
"It isn't just me you're marrying," she said, feeling as if she needed to explain one more time—as if it would help both of them, though she wasn't sure anything would. "You get me, you get us all. And I want us all to be happy about it. I don't want my home to be a battleground."
"I know." His voice was low and resigned. He sighed again. His forehead still rested against hers. And then he straightened. His shoulders went back. His chin came up. "I'm not walking away from this," he told her, his blue eyes glittering with intensity. "I'll wait. I want what's best for all of us—and I think that's me marrying you, regardless of what he thinks. But if we have to wait until Josh gives us his blessing, okay."
Ellie smiled and went up on her toes to press a kiss against his mouth. "Thank you," she whispered with her lips on his. "You won't regret it."
"I already do," he groaned. "I'm just gonna have to work like hell to change the kid's mind."
Easier said than done.
Rance had known it wouldn't be simple.
He'd met with resistance the day immediately after he'd foolishly blurted out Josh's parentage, when he had cornered the boy and tried to explain.
He'd had little idea what to say. Everything that seemed to make sense to an adult, he thought would probably sound stupid to a child of ten.
Josh's reaction didn't change his mind.
The boy hadn't been eager to listen.
When Rance followed him into the tack room and said he wanted to talk to him, Josh had been less than welcoming. "What else could you have to say?" he'd said bitterly, his voice was so sharp with pain that Rance had almost looked down to see if he was bleeding.
He shifted from one boot to the other. "I have to say I'm sorry," he began. "I was angry with the way you were acting. That's no excuse, and I acted a whole lot worse. Now I need to explain some things."
Cowboy on the Run Page 17