by Leigh Riker
“Glad I caught you. I was just headin’ into town myself.” Somewhere in his mid-twenties, Cody Jones had a shock of wheat-colored hair, close cut on the sides but longer on top. He still looked like a kid to Grey, who’d turned thirty this year, but Cody stood inches taller than Grey did, even at six feet. He had to look up into Cody’s merry dark eyes, which never set well with Grey, who was now the sole person of authority at Wilson Cattle. “Thought I’d get my pay first.”
“Sorry, you’ll have to wait.” After his morning appointment at the bank, he was sure about that. “We sold off those cattle last week, but the check hasn’t cleared.” He wouldn’t mention the loan.
“Man, I thought trying to make a living on the circuit was tough. Five seasons as a bronc rider before I quit to hire on here, but winnin’ prize money was way easier than this.”
“And how much did you win?”
Cody flashed a grin. “Not enough.”
“You know any riders who are earning good money?”
“Just the top guys, and they really rake it in. Private planes and all.”
“There you go. Most don’t ever reach that level. Being a top rodeo cowboy’s not that easy, either—it’s like winning the lottery.”
Grey had tried rodeo, too, for a couple of years after college, so he could empathize with Cody. Still, Grey viewed him almost as the younger brother he’d never had. He’d given him advice before, taught him quite a bit already and wanted to believe that Cody would, sooner or later, be of real value to Wilson Cattle. Which reminded him to ask, “You feed the horses this morning?”
Cody had “forgotten” twice last week. He had a tendency to focus on himself instead of his work. Grey toyed with the idea of docking his pay for the double oversight, then discarded it. He lived up to his obligations.
Too bad he couldn’t take that to the bank.
Before seeing Shadow, he’d made a quick stop at the local tack store to order a new saddle and buy some lesser supplies, but he’d come out empty-handed. His credit had been declined. Grey had been having a hard time paying the bills lately, which only compounded his growing sense of failure. A best man. Was he, really? If only he could find some way to prove to her, to everyone else—maybe most of all, to himself—that he was innocent in the death of Jared Moran. But what if he discovered just the opposite?
Cody’s grin had stuck to his face. “Guess I can wait to go into town. Maybe on Saturday night I’ll find a nice little buckle bunny to dance with. To be honest, that’s what I miss most about the rodeo circuit.”
“Good luck finding one in Barren.” Grey noticed that halfway down the barn aisle, Cody had left a wheelbarrow full of steaming manure. The pungent aroma threatened to spread through the entire barn. Grey pointed. “Right now you’d better stop daydreaming and clean up that mess.”
Cody’s expression fell. “Thought you wanted me to mend fence today near the boundary with Logan’s property. By the way, he’s got a hole there, too.”
Grey frowned. Two sections of fence breached at the same time? He wondered if that could be a coincidence.
“Can’t be in both places at once,” Cody added.
“First things first. The manure won’t take long. Then get out there before those cows wander off the ranch.”
Cody grumbled to himself but Grey had other things on his mind. He left Cody to the wheelbarrow and went on up to the house.
He wouldn’t tell his dad about the loan just yet. A few years ago, after a long time spent as a single father, Everett Wilson had remarried, turned the operation over to Grey and moved to Dallas with his bride, as he still called Grey’s stepmom, Liza. Grey was fully responsible here. He had to protect their mutual heritage or they’d end up with nothing. Yet those new holes in the fence nagged at him.
Maybe the loan he’d been denied, his cash flow issue and Shadow’s blame weren’t his only problems. He hoped tomorrow would be better.
* * *
AS THE SUN began to set, Shadow pulled into her driveway. The house she’d recently purchased in Barren was her pride and joy. For the first time in her life, she had something all her own. At least, in thirty years it would be, considering her new mortgage. The house was another, necessary part of her plans for the future. But Shadow was still angry with herself for chickening out on telling Grey what she’d decided to tell him. And just when she needed to be alone, to rehearse what to say tomorrow, her mother was waiting for her on her front steps.
Shadow opened the garage door with her remote control, rolled inside then shut the door behind her. She went in through the kitchen and down the short hall to the entryway.
“Mama. What are you doing out there?”
Her mother blinked. “I came to see you. Didn’t know I needed an excuse.”
“I didn’t say you did.” What was wrong now? Through the screen door Shadow could see that her mother, in her late forties, looked somewhat worn today. Her dark hair hung in dull hanks around her face. What was wrong now?
Considering what had happened right after Jared died, she shouldn’t feel bad for her remaining parent. Yet she still loved her mother, who’d lost her husband—Shadow’s father—a year ago, who still looked lost herself, and showed up now and then to see Shadow as if she’d forgotten their rift. Shadow always had a hard time saying no to anything her mother needed and rarely did.
“Come inside,” Shadow insisted.
“I’m fine right here,” her mother said. “Actually, I came to tell you my water heater—yes, the one you bought me—leaked all over the floor last night.” She added, “I don’t know if it can be fixed, and I don’t get my government check for another ten days.”
Shadow forced herself to gentle her tone. They’d had this discussion before, but to Shadow’s sorrow, nothing had changed. “Mama. How many times have I told you to sell that place?”
“It’s my home.”
Shadow suppressed a twinge of regret. Grey felt that way about his enormous ranch, which Shadow disliked as much as her family’s small farm, the modest house with its now-sagging roof, the cramped rooms where her parents had fought late into the night over every dime.
She shook her head. “Five acres of dirt, a bunch of chickens and a house that’s been falling down around your ears since I was in diapers.” And someone in that house, she thought, had always been in diapers.
“I own my house, free and clear. How many people can say that?”
True enough. Shadow had her brand-new mortgage to pay, a strong motivation to succeed with Mother Comfort. She murmured, “At least Daddy left you something.” Other than six children. Well, five now. For a time it had seemed her mother was pregnant every year. As the second oldest girl after her sister Jenna, Shadow had often helped with the youngest ones, giving bottles to Tanya and Cherry, wiping her little brother Derek’s grimy hands and runny noses while her dad did...almost nothing to help.
“He was a good man,” her mother said. “I loved your father.”
Another casualty, Shadow thought, of a man who couldn’t be counted on.
She took a deep breath. She didn’t want to hurt her mother, but she needed to get through to her somehow. “Obviously, you can’t keep that house up much longer, Mama. It’s become harder and harder since Daddy died. The house is old. It needs too much work. How about I come out soon? We can get it ready to sell. That property’s not worth much, but enough to give you a fresh start. Away from all those memories.” She didn’t have to mention Jared.
“I’m staying.” Her mother looked away. “We always did the best we could.”
“I guess.” But Shadow had gone to school with holes in her sneakers—they all had. The same shoes that pinched because they were two sizes too small. Shadow had felt like one of those women centuries ago with their feet bound till they couldn’t walk. Now she had a serious obsessi
on with shoes. They were her one indulgence. Everything else went into her plans for the future. Shadow looked down at her newest pair of flats. “You don’t have to live that way now,” she said. “Did you never consider what Daddy was doing to us then?” And that didn’t come close to Shadow’s last memory of him.
“He couldn’t get good work.”
“No, or if he did, it was because Everett Wilson hired him back again.” She added, “I know you were in a difficult position, Mama.” Shadow had been in one, herself. She’d had to make hard decisions, which reminded her now of Grey and their meeting tomorrow. “But when I actually needed Daddy—”
“He shouldn’t have done that, but honey, we’d just lost Jared! That was Grey Wilson’s doing. You can’t blame your father for feeling like he did. That boy killed our son and I’ll never forgive him.”
Shadow couldn’t disagree. But this wasn’t about Grey. It was Shadow her father had hurt then. “Yes, and after that, Daddy wasn’t there for me.” She almost hadn’t come home for his funeral, yet she’d done so for her mother’s sake. And stayed.
Her mother rose from the steps. “People make mistakes. Grey Wilson sure did, and you just ran off—”
“Because,” Shadow said, fighting the urge to push her mother away when she also wanted to take her in her arms and comfort them both, “I had to.” Because, like Daddy, you wouldn’t help me, either.
As if she’d actually heard the unspoken words, her mother drew herself up. She stood barely over five feet, even when she squared her shoulders and stiffened her spine. Shadow had inherited her father’s height, but she had to give her mother credit for the courage that had failed Shadow earlier. Or was that her mother’s pride? Like Grey’s. “Forget I was here,” she said.
“Mama—”
She started down the steps. “I’ve made mistakes in my life, too. But at least,” she threw back over her shoulder, “I never abandoned my own baby.”
CHAPTER TWO
THE NEXT DAY at her desk, Shadow made a few calls, pored over several new applications for potential caregivers and mostly stared out the window again. She wasn’t getting much done. When she finally saw Grey’s pickup pull into a space in front of the agency, her anxiety ramped up another notch. Her mother’s words yesterday had only made that worse, all the more because, in some ways, she was right. As Grey walked into her office, every muscle in Shadow’s body tensed.
“Well?” he asked, sinking onto the chair in front of her desk. He wore a more familiar denim shirt, jeans and boots today. And, of course, the black Stetson, which he’d removed as soon as he opened the door. He balanced it on his knee.
Shadow pushed a pile of papers to one side and straightened the two ballpoint pens she always kept nearby. She folded her hands on the clean desktop but didn’t look at him. She glanced at the phone, almost willing it to ring, creating a delay. “I don’t know how to begin,” she said at last.
“Just tell me. Whatever it is.”
She made herself meet his gaze. “That would be best,” she agreed, wondering, even fearing, how he might react. “Grey, something else happened ten years ago. Something other than Jared.”
“Yeah,” he said. “You and I broke up—not for the first time.”
“For the last. And soon after Jared...died, I—” She cleared her throat, then rushed on, her heart a hard lump in her chest. She’d rehearsed these words but they stuck in her throat. “I discovered I was pregnant.”
Grey blinked. For a long moment he said nothing. Shadow watched a dozen emotions flash across his face. He turned the black hat on his knee in a circle. “Pregnant,” he repeated.
“Yes.”
His mouth hardened. “And you never told me.”
Shadow reached out a hand, but they didn’t connect. Grey sat too far away from her across the expanse of her desk and he’d pushed deeper into his chair, creating even more distance between them. “You’re right. I didn’t. I take full responsibility, Grey.”
“Well, that’s something. Now,” he murmured.
“I’m sorry. I know that sounds terribly inadequate, but at the time—because of Jared, too—I felt I couldn’t tell you.” She took a breath. “That was wrong of me.”
“And it’s still wrong. Ten years?” He shook his head. “I suppose you told your parents.”
“Yes.” Shadow had come home from school that day to find her father in his living room recliner, his “seat of business,” he always claimed.
“The TV was on,” she continued, “blaring some rerun of an old cowboy series. He watched the episodes over and over, like he was trying to relive his dreams of being a successful rancher. I could have recited the dialogue word for word, but I was too scared to even think. All day in class I’d dreaded telling him. It was only a week after Jared died.”
“How did you know?”
“I’d had some physical signs but tried to ignore them. At first, I thought my body was just reacting to all the anxiety, the grief. Then I...was late again, and I bought a test.” She remembered that night, locked in the bathroom while her youngest brother, Derek, banged at the door, saying it was his turn. “When my mother walked into the room and turned off the TV, my heart was beating like some ceremonial drum. I could hardly get the words out. ‘Daddy, Mama, I’m pregnant.’”
The test didn’t lie. At seventeen, Shadow had been about to become a mother.
Grey’s mouth twisted. He still didn’t look at her. “What did your father say?”
“His face got red and he gripped the arms of his chair—like he had to hold himself in place or he’d come after me. He stared me down. He guessed it was yours right away. I’ll never forget those horrible days.” Now she had added another, and inflicted it on Grey, too. Finally, he lifted his gaze, and Shadow refused to look away from his sharp, accusatory eyes.
“I told him you were the only boy I was seeing.” Not that they’d been together anymore by the time she’d had that conversation with her parents. She hadn’t had a chance to recover from their final fight, from Grey’s rejection. How could she, after seeing Jared lying so still and pale in his coffin.
“And your mom?”
“She said nothing at first. Then it was just, ‘Oh, Shadow,’ and she started crying.” Shadow swallowed. “My parents and I were alone in the room. I said a brief prayer of thanks that my sisters and Derek weren’t around. I’d seen him wrestling in the yard with a friend—he still hangs out with Calvin Stern—on my way in, and my sisters were heading for the henhouse to collect eggs.” The chickens’ squawking had shattered the last of her nerves, as if even they blamed her for what had happened.
Grey worried the crease in his hat. “Then what?”
Shadow closed her eyes, remembering her dad leaning forward in his chair, pointing a finger at her. “He said he wouldn’t have any more to do with that family, with you—” she sucked in a breath “—or anything belonging to you.” Shadow laid a protective hand on her now-flat stomach. “My mom was staring at him. I was shaking so hard. Not anything, I said. Anyone.”
“Prodding the tiger,” Grey muttered.
Her voice trembled, as it had then. “Daddy slammed back in his chair again, aimed the remote at the TV and told me to get out.”
“Your mother didn’t say anything? Even then?”
“Not a word. You know she always sided with him.”
Grey’s voice was deadly quiet. “What did you do?”
“I stuffed some clothes in a backpack and left. I had a week’s pay from my job at that fast-food restaurant. If Daddy thought I had betrayed him, he’d also betrayed me. So did my mom.”
“Where did you go? You must have gotten help somewhere.” He might have asked why she hadn’t gone to him, found a way to get to his college in Texas—he’d already gone back for the fall semester by then. But Grey
waited for her reply, and Shadow was thankful. She wanted to get the whole story out before she started trying to explain herself.
“To Doc’s office.”
“Doc?” Grey echoed. “What did he say?”
Shadow didn’t meet his eyes. “‘Well, young lady, what have you got to say for yourself?’” Remembering, she blushed. She’d sat up on Doc’s cold metal table at his clinic in Barren and burst into tears. “I’d hitched a ride into town, then wandered along Main Street, my mind blank yet whirling at the same time—What should I do? Where would I go?—until, finally, I ended up at Doc’s.”
Cyrus Baxter had taken one look at her, swept out from behind the reception desk where he’d been studying a chart, passed his wife, Ida, who was talking on the phone, and ushered Shadow into the exam room, where she’d blurted out her earth-shattering news. In his late fifties then, his dark hair had been sprinkled with gray but his blue eyes were keen. Doc never wore a white coat; he believed his youngest patients found that intimidating.
“You never thought to come to me?” Grey asked now.
“Yes. I thought of finding you, instead, but after we broke up—after Jared—I couldn’t.”
In that moment she’d wished she hadn’t gone to Doc, either, but still caught up in the fallout at home, and always a breath away from crying over losing Jared, she’d completely missed Doc’s gentle tone of voice.
He’d given Shadow her vaccinations as a baby, treated her skinned knees and strep throats during childhood and offered her a birds-and-bees lecture when she entered puberty. Apparently that hadn’t done much good, but he’d cupped her shoulders in both hands as he’d done many times before, and said, “None of that now, Shadow. Tears won’t help.”
“He knew you were the father,” Shadow told Grey now, wincing at his pained expression when she spoke that last word. “His reaction was different than Daddy’s, though. I explained that you’d already left, that even if you hadn’t I could never go to you, not after what you’d done to Jared. But he interrupted me, said, ‘I’ve known Grey since he was drinking milk from a bottle. He’s never been in trouble before.’ He said he did wonder what you were all doing together that night, why there was a gun. It’s true that you and Jared didn’t run in the same circles.”