by Lisa Jackson
“Ha!”
He’d proposed, hadn’t he?
Done his duty.
Angrily, she took a turn a little too sharply, then eased off on the accelerator. She had a baby to worry about. She couldn’t afford to be careless. Never again.
On a whim, she veered east on Highway 17, deciding to visit Winona Cobbs’s secondhand store.
The gates were wide open as Gina drove into the dusty lot where junk from the turn of the twentieth century to the millennium had collected around a trailer Winona called home. Ancient, disemboweled cars filled one corner while another was chock-full of used farm equipment. Sheds offered up more personal merchandise, everything from treadle sewing machines to plumbing fixtures to secondhand clothes and shoes.
But Winona wasn’t anywhere on the lot. Gina climbed out of her car and walked up the steps of the trailer and knocked on the door. “Ms. Cobbs?” she called loudly, pounding with her fist, hoping to get the woman’s attention. “Are you home? Ms. Cobbs?” But no one answered and there wasn’t any life in the yard, aside from the honey bees that buzzed around several hives tucked near the fence in one corner of the property.
The psychic apparently didn’t believe that anyone would stop by and rip her off.
There was no reason to stay and wait. Winona might be gone for hours, so Gina slid behind the wheel of the Explorer again, tipped a pair of sunglasses onto the bridge of her nose and tried to concentrate on Larry’s seventh illegitimate son. She switched on the radio and drove off in a cloud of dust, but her mind kept straying from Larry’s baby to the baby she herself had on the way.
Despite a bank of clouds gathering in the western sky, Gina felt her bad mood lighten. She was going to have a baby!
She smiled at the thought of becoming a mother and though Trent’s reaction still stung, she hummed along with a Faith Hill song and drove into the town of Whitehorn, a small speck on the map that was becoming more and more familiar to her.
She spied people she’d met walking along the sidewalks or driving by in pickups and cars. She’d learned the back streets and alleys of the town nearly as well as some of the locals. At a stoplight she waited for a couple to cross the street and her heart twisted. A man and woman walked in front of her Explorer, their hands linked. The woman carried her purse and a diaper bag, the man, most likely her husband, was fitted with a front pack wherein a tiny baby, only a few blond curls visible, was resting.
Tears sprang to Gina’s eyes and she quickly dashed them away, clearing her throat and reminding herself that she would love her baby enough for two parents. She didn’t need a husband. And she didn’t need Trent. She still winced when she thought that he’d seen her pregnancy as a way to squeeze money out of him.
A horn blasted behind her and she realized the crosswalk was clear. Jittery, she pulled up to the Hip Hop and spied not only Lily Mae in her usual booth, but Winona Cobbs seated in a booth near the counter and perusing a paper.
Sniffing back the last hint of any maudlin tears, Gina parked and hurried inside. A bell jingled as the door opened and she was greeted with the smells of coffee, donuts, and frying bacon.
The booths were nearly full, the midmorning crowd hovering over java, pastries and conversation.
Gina didn’t waste any time. She walked boldly up to Winona’s booth and asked, “Mind if I join you?”
“Not at all.” The short, round woman tucked the crossword puzzle she’d been working on into an oversize bag. “Sit,” she said, waving to the bench on the other side of the booth. Her bracelets jangled and her bright eyes seemed to pierce straight to Gina’s soul. “You’re worried about something?”
“A million things,” Gina admitted, ordering a glass of iced tea from Emma. “But the reason I wanted to talk to you is because the rumor around town is that you’re psychic.”
Winona nodded. “I have the gift.”
“Then, I was hoping you could help me. I told you before that I think that Larry Kincaid fathered a seventh baby—and I haven’t been able to locate him.” She reached into her purse and pulled out Larry Kincaid’s journal, with the pages open to the notation about the seventh son. She slid it across the table to the older woman. Winona adjusted her shawl and fingered the open page. Closing her eyes, she concentrated, deep grooves etching her forehead. “This is not a fake. You’re concerned that it was a notation made after some woman called, a woman with a vendetta intent upon Larry Kincaid, but there is a child, a boy child. The information is correct, but…” Her lips drew hard, her eyebrows pinched together. “But I cannot see how he found out, or who is the mother of the baby.”
Winona shook her head, the silvering braid wrapped around her head moving slowly side to side. “The woman who bore Larry’s last child prefers to be anonymous.”
Gina’s heart sank.
“The only sense I get is that the mother is nearby. Somewhere here in Montana. But she is very worried. Not unhappy.” Winona opened her eyes and stared at Gina long and hard. “The boy is the light of her life. Just as your child will be yours.”
Gina nearly choked on a swallow of coffee. How had Winona Cobbs known that she was pregnant?
The door to the café opened and Christina Montgomery flew into the shop. She took a corner booth and picked up a menu. She looked pale and seemed upset, her blue eyes shadowed.
Winona sighed and her lips folded in upon themselves.
“What’s wrong?”
The older woman’s expression turned concerned. “I’d have to say that the water here in Whitehorn must be increasing the chances of fertility.”
“Now, wait a minute…”
But Winona’s eyes were focused on the girl slumped disconsolately at the booth. Christina ordered a soda and stared out the window, her manicured fingers drumming an anxious tattoo on the table.
“She’s got the glow, too.”
“What glow?” Gina asked. The girl was far from glowing. If anything, her mood was somber and dark.
“A pregnant glow. It’s in her aura.”
“And you can see it?” Gina asked, unable to hide her skepticism. Though she often ran with her hunches in an investigation, they were usually based on scientific evidence and fact.
Yes, but didn’t you, too, come seeking counsel from the psychic? When all else fails…
“Certainly I can see it. Not only in her, but in you, as well.”
Gina could barely believe her ears.
“But in Christina’s case there’s a mist of unhappiness surrounding her.”
“’A mist of unhappiness’?” Was this for real?
“Uh-huh.” Winona’s eyes slitted and for a few seconds Gina had the eerie feeling that the owner of the junkyard was actually reading Christina’s mind. But that was crazy. “It has to do with the father, but I can’t tell who he is.” Winona rubbed the crystal pendant at her neck with calloused fingers. “Oh, there is going to be trouble. Serious trouble. Nothing good is going to come of this.”
“How do you know?” Gina asked, and in an instant the older woman turned her eyes away from Christina. Once again they were warm and a smile curved over her uncolored lips.
“I don’t know how. As I said, it’s a gift.”
“Or a curse.”
“Depends upon how you look at it. As for Christina, unfortunately I only see pain in her future, but you’re a different story.”
Gina couldn’t help rising to the bait. “I am. How so?”
“It’s simple.” Winona picked up her cup of coffee and held it to her lips. “In your case you love the man who is the father of your child.”
Gina bit her tongue against the argument that leaped to her lips. Because it was true, damn it, she did love Trent. Foolish as it was. “That doesn’t mean I don’t have my share of problems.”
“None that can’t be overcome,” Winona said sagely as she took a sip of coffee then set down her cup. To Gina’s surprise she reached across the table and took Gina’s hand in hers. “What you don’t understand
is that the father of your baby loves you very much.”
“No, I don’t think—”
“And therein lies the problem. You’re not thinking the right way—with faith rather than mistrust. Listen to me, Gina. Whether you believe it or not, the truth is that Trent Remmington, the father of the child you carry, loves you with all his heart and soul.”
“You know this?” Gina couldn’t believe it. It was too far-fetched.
“And that’s not all. You love him, but pride won’t allow you to admit it.”
Fourteen
“You goin’ somewhere?” Blake asked as he watched Trent stuff all his belongings into his duffel bag.
“I’ll be back,” Trent said with determination. He glanced around the tiny room he’d called home since landing in Montana, searching for anything he’d need. “You can count on it.” He yanked the zipper closed.
“When?”
He met his brother’s curious gaze. “As soon as I can.”
“Where are you going?”
Trent didn’t have time for explanations. He wanted to take care of business, clear his head and return on the first flight he could find. But he had a business to run, and his life to bring into order. “I’ve got to leave for Houston, A.S.A.P. I just got a call from one of my foremen. There’s all sorts of garbage goin’ on in the company and it needs my personal attention.”
“Such as?”
“Such as talk of a strike, for starters. And that’s not the half of it. I’ve got a couple of wells that’ll be shut down in Wyoming and I’ve got to handle it.” His gaze clashed with eyes identical to his own. “I don’t know where I’ll land or when.”
“Sure that’s the reason you’re takin’ off?”
“What’re you getting at?” Trent said, bristling.
“Looks to me like you might be running away,” Blake accused. “Just like our old man.”
Trent hiked the strap of his bag onto his shoulder. Not for the first time would he have loved to knock his smug brother down a peg, but though his fist actually flexed, he slowly uncurled it. This wasn’t the time to round on his twin and knock him from here to eternity.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I know you’re running out on Gina. On the baby.”
“Like hell.” Trent resisted arguing any further. “I’ll call her later.”
“Should I give her the message?”
Trent’s back teeth ground together. He dropped his bag, turned to face his brother again and said, “Don’t say anything, all right? The best thing for you to do is to stay out of this.”
“You know, you’re taking a chance. She might not wait for you.”
“I said, butt out.”
“I wish I could. But you’re my brother. The only one who’s full-blooded. The only one I grew up with. I care what happens to you. To Gina and the baby.”
Trent hesitated, felt a damned lump fill his throat. This was not the time to lose focus. “I can take care of myself and I’ll deal with Gina on my own terms,” Trent said.
“Always the loner.”
“Always.” But it was a lie. Now there was Gina. And the baby. And the fact was that he had to leave Montana to straighten some things out before he returned. For good. To claim his wife and child, for like it or not, he was going to convince Gina to marry him. But not yet. There were a few ducks that needed to be put in order. He started with Blake. “Look, if you feel the need to bond with a brother or two, I think you can take your pick. Larry left quite an assortment to choose from.”
“Right. I choose you.”
Trent stopped short. The honesty in his brother’s eyes, the pain they’d shared together, was all too visible. His throat caught. He swallowed hard. His voice, when he found it, was raspy. “Find someone else, Blake.” With that he grabbed his bag, stopped in the den and snapped his laptop into its case then stormed out of the house. Blake’s words echoed in his mind. You know, you’re taking a chance. She might not wait for you…
He spied Garrett and the old dog near the machine shed. Figuring he’d better take the time to tell the old man that he had to leave for business but that he’d call, he crossed the parking lot and leaned against the fence. As he said his goodbyes, the accusations in Garrett’s eyes mirrored those he’d seen in Blake’s.
“What about Gina?”
“She was gone when I got the call. I’ll phone her later.”
“Do that.” It was an order. Not a suggestion.
“I will.”
“And take my advice,” Garrett said, propping up the brim of his Stetson with his thumb. “Slow down enough to enjoy life. It’s over sooner than any of us like to think.”
“I’ll remember that,” Trent said. He was already rethinking his priorities. He rubbed his cheek where Gina had struck it and knew he’d find a way to make amends.
“Do.” Garrett whistled to the dog and strode off.
Trent turned on his heel and strode to his rental car. Ever since Gina had told him he was going to be a father, he saw the world a little differently. He threw his bag into the back seat of the car. Behind the wheel, he fired the engine and took off, spraying gravel as he followed the rutted lane toward the main road. Through the passenger window he saw a horse, a lone stallion, head raised, nostrils to the wind, far apart from the rest of the herd. Trent’s eyes narrowed on the white stallion for just a second and the animal swung his great head in his direction, ears pricked forward, then reared as the car raced past. The horse was a loner. A rogue. A maverick.
Just like me.
Barely slowing as he entered the main road, Trent shook the image of the stallion from his mind and gripped the wheel with tense fingers. In the past few weeks his entire life had been ripped to shreds, everything he’d believed in destroyed. He had a new family, if only he would embrace it; he had a woman he loved, if only he could convince her of that fact; and he had a baby on the way.
This was his chance. If he hadn’t blown it already by not waiting for her. But he didn’t turn around. He didn’t have time because all of a sudden his entire life was looming ahead of him and he was anxious to get on with it. Right now, he had business to attend to, important business. But first on the agenda when the plane touched down in Houston was to visit the jewelry store and pick out a ring with the biggest damned diamond he could find.
When he returned to Whitehorn, he’d find a way to convince Gina that he loved her. If he had to, he’d spend the rest of his life proving it.
Gina tried to shake off the malaise that seemed to cling to her like a shroud. So she was pregnant, so she was alone, so Trent had been gone from the ranch for more than two days without any word from him. So what? She sat on the back porch swing, her laptop beeping that its battery was about to die, and slowly rocked. She looked across the windswept acres and watched the cattle lumber through the dry fields.
She was no closer to finding Larry’s last heir than she had been when she’d landed on the ranch over two weeks earlier. Jack was making noise about her returning and though she hated to leave, the truth of the matter was that she was spinning her wheels here. Sooner or later she had to return to Southern California to face the music. Jack deserved to know the truth.
Inside she heard the men collecting. Trent, Adam and Brandon had left, at least temporarily, but Mitch, Cade and Blake had stayed on. Along with Rand and Garrett, they were milling in the living room, waiting for Wayne Kincaid to arrive to discuss legalities concerning the land. From what she could gather, Jordan Baxter was determined to stir up trouble for the Kincaids, making a claim that he had some kind of right to the land. Then there was the press.
For the past few days the phone had been ringing off the hook, local reporters interested in writing about Larry’s sons, all six of them. So far, Gina had avoided being interviewed. If she stayed here much longer, though, she’d have to give some quotes. She’d thought about this and it wasn’t necessarily a bad idea. If she admitted she was looking for L
arry’s seventh son, perhaps someone who knew something about that damned notation in Larry’s journal might just come forward.
Her computer beeped again and she snapped it off. She needed to get away from the house, to consider the rest of her life, to find a way to control the ache in her heart whenever she thought about Trent.
She’d returned to the ranch to find him gone—his things packed, his room empty. Blake had tried to reassure her that Trent would return, he’d call, he’d contact her, but she was certain it was a lie.
She walked up the stairs and changed into a pair of jeans and T-shirt. It was true Trent had asked her to marry him, but it had been a reaction, the “right thing” to do. Obviously he’d had a change of heart and taken her rejection at face value. “So what did you expect?” she asked herself as she pulled her hair back into a ponytail and eyed her reflection in the cracked mirror. “Hearts and flowers? Love letters and diamonds? A tortured admission that he couldn’t live without you?” She frowned at the woman in the mirror, the woman whose green eyes looked ready to fill with tears. “Get real, Gina. You know better.”
But you love him! Face it. You should have accepted his marriage proposal when he offered it. It would have been best for you, best for the baby.
“And it would have been trapping him. No thank you.”
She snapped the rubber band in place and took the stairs to the first floor. The men were deep in conversation in the living room and she made her way through the kitchen and out the back door. Needing fresh air and time to herself, she saddled her favorite mare and rode away from the center of the ranch.
“Let’s go,” she said, clucking to the palomino. With a burst of energy, the horse stretched out, strides lengthening, the wind rushing against Gina’s face and cheeks. Tears blurred her eyes and she let them flow, telling herself it was from the fresh mountain air, not because her heart was breaking.
“Run, damn you, run,” she said, leaning over the game little mare’s shoulders, and feeling the slap of the mane against her chin. Upward, through the trees, along the trail she rode as sunlight and shadows speckled the ground. A jackrabbit hopped across the path, diving into the brambles as they passed.