Dexter: Honorable Cowboy

by Marin Thomas

  “No, but I caught him watching you all the time and I knew.”

  “And that didn’t make you mad?”

  “Nope. Dex was my brother. He’d never try to take what was mine.” If only Dusty knew how true his words were.

  Josie studied him out of the corner of her eye. Except for driving new vehicles, wearing a Cartier watch and the expensive hand-tooled leather cell phone case attached to his belt, no one would ever guess the cowboy was filthy rich. Today, he dressed in well-worn work clothes and—she glanced at the floor—scuffed-up cowboy boots.

  “You’re a schmuck, Dusty.” Her declaration held no censure. “I was darn proud of myself for fending off your groping fingers as long as I did. If I hadn’t been afraid of being replaced I probably wouldn’t have slept with you.”

  Reflecting back on her high-school days, she acknowledged that she and Dusty had been typical teenagers. When Josie had made the decision to have sex with Dusty she’d had strong feelings for him, even though she’d never believed they’d marry. Dusty had been a young cowboy making a name for himself in rodeo, and she’d wanted to get out of Wyoming as fast as possible after graduation. A long-term commitment hadn’t been in their future.

  “Yeah, I had to work hard for that first kiss,” Dusty said.

  They laughed at the memory, then Josie asked, “How does it feel to be a father?”

  “Guess I won’t know until I meet Matt.”

  Regret pierced her conscience. If she’d been honest with Dusty from the get-go and told him he was going to be a father as soon as she’d discovered she was pregnant, they wouldn’t be in this predicament right now.

  If you’d told the truth four years ago, then the past three weeks with Dexter would never have happened.

  Josie wanted to believe things had worked out the way they’d been meant to, but doubts lingered in her mind as Dusty turned into the long, winding driveway that led to J.W. and Anne Cody’s spectacular home.

  Chapter Eleven

  Wow. Josie gaped when Dusty parked in front of the enormous home J.W. and Anne Cody had built for themselves.

  “You know my father—” Dusty grinned “—nothing but the biggest and the best.”

  Her apartment in Santa Monica would fit inside the five-car garage. In any other setting the home would be obnoxiously ostentatious, but nestled among the spruce, fir and evergreen trees, the dark honey wood structure reminded her of a mountain lodge—for the rich and famous. “It’s lovely,” she said, admiring the diamond-shaped windows along the front of the home.

  “Dad wanted enough bedrooms and bathrooms to entertain family and business acquaintances.”

  Track jumped out of the truck bed and chased after whatever scent tickled his nose, and Josie followed Dusty along the meandering stone walkway that led to the front door. The landscaping was beautiful—ornamental trees sprouted from a rock garden where red phlox flowed between strategically placed boulders. Clusters of lily of the valley with their delicate white bells sprouted from the garden and hummingbirds buzzed around the pink-flowering weigela shrubs that bordered the lush green grass.

  “I hear water.”

  Dusty pointed to their left. “Mom had the landscaper divert some of the water from Cottonwood Creek to create a stream that runs through the backyard.”

  Josie deviated from the path to get a better look. Water spilled over several tiers of rock and green moss grew on the stones. Perched on the edge of a boulder sat a life-size cast-iron statue of a mermaid. Her hands were cupped around a butterfly the size of Josie’s head, and water trickled over her giant fin.

  “Hey, you coming?”

  Josie retraced her steps and hurried after Dusty. He waited on the porch in front of the home’s massive double-wide door with a leaded-glass transom.

  When he reached for the door handle, she clutched his arm. “Wait.”

  “Nervous?” he asked.

  She shook her head and motioned to the two-foot iron horse knocker. “Can I?”

  He shrugged. “Go ahead.”

  The knocker weighed at least three pounds. She lifted the horse by its tail, then dropped it back into place. The thundering boom echoed off the mountain.

  Dusty didn’t wait for a housekeeper or a butler to open the door. She followed him inside, then froze, her eyes widening.

  “Most people have that reaction when they see it for the first time.”

  If she thought the mermaid and the horse knocker were impressive, they were nothing compared to the monstrous bronze statue of a cowboy on a bucking horse that graced the foyer. J.W. might be worth millions in cattle, natural gas and horseflesh but his passion was definitely rodeo.

  No wonder he hates my father.

  It must have cut J.W. deeply that he’d been stuck in the shadows of Hank Charles. Had the Cody siblings loved the sport as much as their father or was J.W. living vicariously through his offspring, hoping they’d achieve a level of success he’d never attained?

  “I called ahead and told Mom and Dad we’d be here by ten.” Dusty checked his watch. “We’re a little early. Let’s wait in the office.” He crossed the foyer and opened a set of French doors.

  J.W.’s office was elegant yet inviting. A stone fireplace climbed the middle of one wall. Two custom wingback leather chairs faced the fireplace and floor-to-ceiling windows offered a view of the winding road leading to the house. J.W. would spot his visitors well before they parked in the driveway.

  The large Western-style desk sported cowhide-studded leather panels and a cowboy on a bucking horse carved into the wooden panel at the front. A matching cowhide leather executive chair sat behind the desk. Gracing the top of the desk were a standard computer, leather blotter, hand-carved cigar box—no doubt stuffed full of Cuban cigars—cowboy statues that served as bookends for a handful of Zane Grey novels and an antique leather journal she suspected had once belonged to J.W.’s father.

  Bookcases graced the walls on either side of the French doors. Rodeo trophies filled the shelves. She wandered closer and read the names engraved in the hardware: Walker, Jesse, Dusty, Dexter and Ellen. Even Anne had a few horse-breeding trophies in her name. No John Walker Cody. Had the Cody patriarch been so ashamed of his second-place finishes that he’d gotten rid of all his awards?

  “Care for a drink?” Dusty motioned to the wet bar in the corner.

  “No, thanks.” She appreciated his attempt to play host, but frankly she wanted this meeting over with—yesterday. She sat opposite the desk on the camelback couch beneath the flat-panel TV hanging on the wall. “When was that taken?” She pointed to the family portrait above the fireplace mantel. Instead of a formal sitting, the Codys, wearing ranch attire, gathered in front of a split-rail fence somewhere on the property.

  “Six years ago before Walker went into the Marines.”

  Fresh out of college, Walker sat next to his older brother, Jesse, on the top rail, behind J.W. and Anne, who stood in the center of the group. Still in college, Dusty and Dex squatted on the ground in front of their parents, and nineteen-year-old Ellen sat with arms around bent knees in front of the twins.

  Pride and love shone from J.W.’s and Anne’s eyes. As much as Josie worried they’d try to run roughshod over her, deep down she believed in her gut that the older couple loved their children with every inch of their being and that love would naturally extend to Matt.

  The sound of a throat clearing preceded J.W. into the room. For a man who walked with a pronounced limp and a cane, J.W. made an intimidating figure. Strands of silver threaded his still-dark hair and he appeared much younger than his seventy years. He wore a designer Western shirt, black dress slacks, and his freshly oiled ostrich-skin boots winked beneath the recessed lights.

  The Cody patriarch fidgeted before sitting in the desk chair. He was nervous. Good. That leveled the playing field—a little.

  “Josie.” Age hadn’t weakened the baritone voice she recalled from her high school days and his eyes flashed with the same steely g
lint. “Hello, Mr. Cody.”

  “Where’s Mom?” Dusty asked.

  “On her way.” J.W. struck up a conversation with Dusty, pointedly ignoring Josie. “I hope you plan to prepare for the Hoedown on Saturday.”

  “Yeah, I’m sticking around.”

  “Dexter practiced once with Ricky,” J.W. said. “That was a disaster.”

  “Has Digger’s leg healed?”

  “I’m not worried about the horse. I’m worried about your brother.” J.W.’s gaze shifted to Josie. “Dexter’s been distracted lately.”

  Josie was no longer a seventeen-year-old afraid to stand up to the big-bad father of her boyfriend. “Dexter and my dad struck a fair deal, Mr. Cody. Dexter’s help with the cattle in exchange for boarding the mustang at the Lazy S.”

  “My son has no business messing around with wild horses.”

  She glanced at Dusty, expecting him to jump to his brother’s defense, but he chose to stare out the window instead.

  “Josie, what a nice surprise. Why, it’s been years since I’ve seen you.” Flashing a warm smile, Anne Cody walked to her husband’s side, her silver bob brushing against her jaw. She stood by J.W.’s chair, one hand resting on his shoulder, a stunning three-carat marquise diamond winking from her ring finger. “I hope your father’s recovery is going well.”

  At least she’d asked about their neighbor, unlike J.W. “Dad’s much better. Mom’s having trouble keeping him from overdoing.” Silence ensued, and Josie felt compelled to speak. “How was your trip to the Black Rock Ranch?”

  “Wonderful. They breed such magnificent horses.” Anne paused when Dusty left his post by the window and joined Josie on the couch. “I picked out a new mare for Mr. Lucky Son,” Anne continued. “The foal or colt will go to our first grandson, Clay.”

  Oh, dear. Wait until Anne and J.W. learned they’d already had a grandson these past four years—their first biological grandchild.

  J.W. cleared his throat. “What’s this meeting about, Dusty?”

  Dusty knew best how to handle his parents, so Josie remained silent. “I have some news to share.”

  “You two aren’t getting back together, are you?” J.W. wasn’t going to make this easy.

  “Dear, let Dusty speak.” Anne offered Josie an apologetic smile.

  “Mom…Dad…” Dusty sucked in a huge breath, the air rushing out with his words. “Josie and I have a son together. His name’s Matt.”

  Anne’s hand went to her chest and her face drained of color. Clutching the edge of the desk, she stared into space.

  The only sounds were Anne’s labored breathing and the ticking wall clock. After several seconds, Anne’s dazed expression transformed into a frown. “Dusty, shame on you for keeping your child a secret from us. Why in the world didn’t you tell us you’d gotten Josie pregnant?”

  Before Josie had a chance to defend Dusty, Anne asked, “Where is my grandson? When can I see him?”

  “Hold up, Mom.”

  Josie peeked at J.W. She wished she hadn’t. If his reddish-purple skin tone was any indication, his head was about to implode. “You two have a lot of explaining to do.”

  “Matt is four years old,” Dusty said.

  The hand on Anne’s chest moved to her throat. She looked as if someone had thrown a noose around her neck and pulled it taut. Josie ached for the hurt she’d caused the older woman.

  “You’ve kept our grandson a secret for four years?” J.W. bellowed at his son.

  Dusty didn’t deserve his father’s outrage. Josie had made the decision to keep Matt a secret. She had to face the music. “Dusty wasn’t aware Matt even existed until a few weeks ago when I returned to Markton.”

  “Are you certain the child is yours, Dusty?” J.W. asked.

  Josie didn’t flinch at the implied insult—she’d expected as much from a man like J.W.

  “Josie says he’s got my dimple.” Dusty grinned.

  Anne’s eyes widened. “You haven’t met your son?”

  “Not yet,” Dusty said.

  “This is terrible.” Anne sank into the chair in front of the fireplace and held her face in her hands.

  “We had a right to know our grandson existed. Why did you keep him a secret?” J.W. glared at Josie.

  “I had my reasons.” Had the codger forgotten he’d swindled her father? A stare-down ensued.

  J.W. backed off first. “What’s done is done. The important thing is you two get married and make my grandson an official Cody.”

  “I’ve already proposed.”

  Dusty called “I think we should get married” a proposal?

  “Josie wants time to think about it,” Dusty said.

  Chicken. “What Dusty means is that I turned down his proposal.”

  Anne’s head snapped up and she gasped.

  “Any woman in her right mind would marry a Cody in a heartbeat.” J.W. leaned across his desk as if his intimidating posture would persuade her to see things his way.

  If Josie wasn’t so frustrated with how the meeting was playing out she might have found J.W.’s bafflement comical. She suspected few women would turn their nose up at a life of luxury.

  “I’m sure Josie will reconsider once she understands it’s in Matt’s best interest to carry the Cody name.” Anne stood. “I’ll need at least a month to plan the wedding.”

  Wedding? Josie attempted to give Dusty the evil eye but he was busy studying the worn-down heel on his boot.

  “We’ll have it here at the house by the pool,” Anne continued. “What’s your favorite color, Josie? I’ll need to know when I speak with the florist.”

  “Let’s hold off on any wedding plans.” Josie took a deep breath. “I haven’t yet told my parents that Dusty is Matt’s father.”

  J.W. rubbed his brow but remained silent—for a change.

  “The best thing to do right now is nothing.” Her statement earned another scowl from J.W. Josie kept a straight face but her insides chuckled. Who would have thought taunting Wyoming’s cattle and gas baron would be such fun? “We all need time to let this news sink in before any decisions about the future are made.”

  “Sounds good.” Dusty motioned to the door, and Josie jumped at the chance to escape.

  “Wait!” Anne cried. “When can we see our grandson?”

  “I think Dusty should meet Matt first before he’s introduced to the rest of the family,” Josie said.

  “Give me a little time—” Dusty stared at the tips of his boots “—to get used to the idea of being a father.”

  “You’d better become used to being a father and a husband.” J.W. dared Josie to protest.

  Not caring if Dusty followed her, Josie made a bee-line for the front door.

  “Hold up.” Dusty took the porch steps two at a time. “I’m sorry my dad lost his temper. He doesn’t like surprises.”

  Obviously. Josie hopped into Dusty’s truck. She wanted to get home and hug her son. Now that the confrontation with J.W. and Anne was over, reality had sunk in. The world she and Matt knew would never be the same. Until now, she’d been in control of her son’s life—the sole decision maker. No longer. Dusty would have a say, and Josie knew Anne and J.W. would try to influence their son’s say.

  Dusty stuck his fingers into his mouth and whistled. Track bounded from the woods and jumped into the truck bed, tail wagging. Halfway down the mountain road, Dusty broke the silence. “You’re going to reconsider my marriage proposal, aren’t you?”

  Back to that again? “Let’s be brutally honest, Dusty. You don’t want to marry me for Matt’s sake or to defend my honor or even to keep the Markton tongues from wagging. The only reason you proposed in the first place is because you knew your father would insist.”

  He allowed her comment to slide—only because she’d nailed the truth. They settled into a companionable silence, and Josie’s thoughts strayed to Dexter. She missed him. Missed his smile. Missed the way he stared at her out of the corner of his eye when he didn’t think she noticed
. Missed the way he tilted his head while she talked—as if carefully considering each word she spoke.

  She never had to guess if she had Dexter’s attention. His every action proved his awareness of her. He’d made her believe she was the center of his world—until Dusty had returned from Canada. Now Dexter acted as if he couldn’t get far enough away from her.

  Dusty parked in front of the Lazy S ranch house, and Josie’s attention shifted to the corral by the barn. Had she been so uptight this morning that she hadn’t observed the horse trailer hitched to Dexter’s truck? Was he taking the mustang back to the Cottonwood Ranch?

  The front door opened and Matt ran out of the house. He waved at her as he raced past the truck. “Mr. D, Mr. D!” he called, heading toward the corral.

  Dusty watched his son and his brother engage in conversation. “Matt’s become attached to Dexter.” The statement held no censure. No jealousy. No anger. Just fact.

  “Yes.” Matt found his male role model. Dexter walked on water. Roped the moon. Sailed the Seven Seas. And broke hearts—hers.

  “That’s good,” Dusty said. “Dexter’s solid.”

  Too mentally exhausted to decipher the meaning behind Dusty’s comment, Josie asked, “Would you like to meet Matt?”

  Dusty tapped the steering wheel with his fingertips. Shifted in his seat. Glanced in the rearview mirror. The poor man was a wreck.

  “If you’re not ready, that’s okay.” She’d rather he be relaxed when he spoke to Matt for the first time.

  “Yeah.” Dusty’s shoulders sagged. “I’ll wait.”

  Josie sympathized with Dusty—he hadn’t asked to be put in this position. Her gaze shifted to Dexter standing in the corral by Zeus. She smiled.

  “What are you grinning at?”

  She pointed to the corral. “Dex finally got Zeus to accept a saddle.”

  Dusty watched his brother for a minute, then said, “Why don’t you discuss my proposal with your parents and see what they think.”

  “It doesn’t matter what anyone thinks.” Except Dexter. “I refuse to give up my job and move Matt away from his friends.” The only person who could change her mind was Dexter. She hopped out of the truck and shut the door. Before she had a chance to say goodbye Dusty sped off like a bat out of hell.