Last Chance Cowboy

by Leigh Riker

  Miller’s gaze hardened. “What’s that have to do with me? How’d you get my name?”

  “Motor Vehicles tells me that a white truck fitting that description belongs to you.”

  Miller laughed. “And hundreds of other people in this state.”

  “Not that many in Stewart County with the partial plate numbers I have,” Grey said. And none with the markings he was looking for. “How about letting me see it?” Maybe the truck or trailer would have dents to match the ones Grey had seen.

  “Sorry, this is private property. You’d be trespassing.”

  “Not if you let me in.”

  Miller shook his head. “I own a white Ford, sure. That’s all I can tell you.” He turned away from the gate. “Unless the sheriff shows up here, I’m done.”

  Grey turned back to his truck, wishing now that he’d pursued the white rig to its destination, after all. Taken another chance on getting his head blown off.

  Finn just might do that for him. He wouldn’t be happy about this.

  If Fred Miller had anything to do with the rustlers, or was one of them himself, he’d probably get rid of that white truck—and any other evidence that would solve this thing.

  * * *

  JENNA WAITED FOR David in the hallway just outside his suite of high-floor offices in downtown Kansas City. Traffic on her way in had been stop and go, either wild or bumper-to-bumper, and her nerves were quaking. On the doors to the reception area a row of black, fancy letters outlined in gold announced the firm’s name: The Regis/Mellon Group. Below, all the partners and their titles were listed. David’s name was not among them.

  Jenna could feel his pain at the snub he’d received, his sense of failure. A part of her still loved him, but she was also angry. Still boiling mad, in fact. She’d been as devoted to his career advancement as David was. But what had she been to him, after all? Just a convenience, someone who maintained their home, entertained his colleagues, always put him first?

  That was her own fault, and now he was moving west, leaving her behind.

  Yet she wasn’t only mad at herself. She never had been, even when she’d first shifted from grief to anger. This was also David’s fault. He’d been so emotionally distant throughout their marriage, taken her for granted. He hadn’t held up his end of the bargain.

  She smoothed a hand, cool and moist, over the skirt of her navy blue suit. She’d softened the severe look with a white ruffled top and had worn her pearl earrings, an anniversary gift.

  The light flashed above the elevator and the doors slid open. David stepped out, along with several other men. He touched the shoulder of his nearest colleague and gestured toward Jenna. “I’ll be right in, Greg.”

  He waited until the others had disappeared through the glass doors and down a hallway to the left. David’s office was there, too, Jenna remembered, although she hadn’t been here in some time. Years ago they’d occasionally met for lunch or an after-hours dinner, a date night. But eventually he’d seemed to lose interest in being with her, and she’d stopped coming to the office. If she’d paid more attention to signs like that, maybe she wouldn’t have been so blindsided by his departure.

  He shifted his briefcase from one hand to the other. “What is it, Jenna?”

  She squared her shoulders. Her days of prowling the house like a caged animal were over. David wasn’t the only one who mattered. “I hoped we could talk—for as long as it takes.”

  “I have clients all afternoon. But I’ve been meaning to call you. I’ve retained Greg Sullivan—our newest partner—to handle the divorce. Do you have a lawyer?”

  “No,” she said. Until recently, she hadn’t been able to do anything except mourn. Since her overnight stay with Shadow and Ava, she’d focused on getting herself together. She hadn’t thought about lawyers—except the one who’d left her.

  “I’m sorry, Jenna, but you need to hire someone. Maybe I was the only one to see that we were going wrong. Maybe I should have tried harder—or told you how unhappy I’d become. But if you’re hoping we can reconcile...” He gazed at the receptionist’s desk inside the glass then back at Jenna. “I’ve already moved out, and I don’t want anything from the house. You should decide soon where you want to go. Once an agreement is reached, it will have to go on the market.”

  “I understand that, but—” Jenna caught his sleeve. “Is that all I was to you? Part of some agreement we’ll both have to sign? Right now you’re still my husband, I’m still your wife. I can’t believe you’ve just stepped out of our life together—” Her voice shook, not with sorrow but with the hot anger she’d carried with her from Shawnee Mission. “How could you do that, David? I loved you.”

  In such a short time, it was as if there’d never been anything personal, or intimate, between them. She hardly recognized this man she’d married, had laughed and talked and shared friends with, dreamed of sharing a future with, a future far better than her unhappy past. A man she had loved with all her heart.

  He looked at the floor. His voice sounded tight. “I love you, too, Jen, but our marriage is over. I’m not coming back.”

  She stiffened. “I don’t want you back.”

  Until she said the words, Jenna hadn’t known she wanted to say them, yet there they were, as if she’d rehearsed them. Those words were the reason she’d come here, cloaked in her righteous anger.

  The receptionist was staring at them. David made a strangled sound. Jenna had finally gotten his attention, but that didn’t seem to matter now. She studied him, his dark hair and gray-blue eyes, as he straightened his earnest tie, shot the cuffs of his custom dress shirt and walked through the door.

  Without a qualm, Jenna watched him go, then summoned the elevator that would take her downstairs.

  And left the building.

  Left him.

  * * *

  “I WENT TO see David today.” As Jenna told her, over dinner, about their conversation, Shadow saw a growing acceptance in her sister’s eyes. She’d always thought Jenna had the best of all worlds: a loving husband, a beautiful home, financial security. Shadow had envied her. She hadn’t realized something was missing. “I could hardly believe the words came from my own mouth,” Jenna finished, “but in that one second I knew I wouldn’t take him back if he begged me.”

  “Oh, Jen. I’m so glad you confronted him—had your say. I’m sure you’ll be able to work things out with the divorce. I can see how much better you feel already—even better than the last time I saw you.”

  Jenna nodded. “I really do.” She arched an eyebrow. “Now the question becomes—what do I do next? I could look for another admin position like I had before, but that was so long ago. When I married David, we decided I shouldn’t work outside the home because we wanted to have a baby.” Her expression dimmed.

  “I know how badly you wanted that.”

  “And I wanted to help him get ahead first. Once he made partner, I thought... But then there wasn’t a baby, after all, and there’s nothing else I know how to do except to run my home—the one I won’t have for much longer.”

  “That’s what Mama said.” Shadow put her arms around her sister. She hugged her while Jenna struggled to control her emotions.

  “You’ve been a great wife. And I know you would make a great mom—and you still can be. You did so well with Ava when we were there.”

  “That was my privilege. I loved having her with us, and you, too, but you were right to bring her home. You can forget the whole adoption thing. Now all we need to do is convince Ava that was the best decision for her.”

  “I’m hoping Grey will help with that.” Shadow thought for another moment, but she wasn’t ready to confide in her sister about Kansas City or the plan to tell Ava about her father. “Jen, remember when we were growing up and you always wanted to do something with art? You filled pages w
ith drawings of elegant rooms, fashions... I always admired your talent.”

  “I wouldn’t call that a talent. More like doodling.”

  “You’re being too modest.”

  Jenna pulled away to meet her gaze. “I was never very good,” she said. “Thanks for trying to support me, but no wonder I didn’t follow up.”

  “But you did, Jen. Your home is gorgeous. You did that all by yourself.”

  “I did,” she admitted. “I really like decorating, making things come together, choosing colors—adding those final touches with just the right accessories.”

  Shadow gauged her expression. Jenna’s whole face had lit up as she spoke.

  “And now David would sell the house you worked so hard on? Can’t you keep it as part of your settlement?”

  “I wouldn’t be able to afford the mortgage, the maintenance. I’d have to let the pool service go, but I wouldn’t want to deal with that myself. No, I need to be realistic. There’s too much upkeep involved with that house. But you know what?” she said. “You were right. I’ll be just fine. If I could face David, tell him exactly how I feel, I can do anything. You wouldn’t want to help me look for a new place to live, would you?”

  “Of course I will. Just let me know when you’re ready.” Shadow paused. “You can have fun creating a new home, but why not take that interest even further? Turn it into a new career.”

  “You mean become a decorator myself?” For another moment she looked doubtful before she suddenly smiled. “You know what? I just might.”

  Jenna had already grown from the frightened woman grieving for her broken marriage into someone who could look forward to the future—quite possibly a bright future—on her own. Shadow couldn’t hold herself up as any kind of model, but she had already made her way in the world, was raising her daughter and had started Mother Comfort. She would never be dependent on someone else again, and she intended to shield Ava from the kind of poverty Shadow had known as a girl. And yet, something about the change in Jenna made Shadow wonder if something was missing in her own life, too...

  * * *

  HOLDING STORMY ON her lap the next day, Ava stared straight ahead as her mother drove under an archway of antlers with a sign that read Wilson Cattle Company. Ava’s frown darkened. The dusty driveway seemed even longer than the trip from Barren and she wondered why they were here. Her mother hadn’t said much except that they were going to visit someone and Ava didn’t need to go to summer day camp that day. She looked nervous, too.

  Ava clutched Stormy tighter to her. She had a growing knot in the pit of her stomach, and she didn’t know why. She was happy to miss camp, and though she’d never been on a ranch before, that wasn’t a bad thing; Ava loved animals, especially horses.

  She spotted several on either side of the long driveway, grazing in the fields, and she wanted to stop and look at each one. She saw chocolate-brown bays, a lighter horse whose hide flashed golden in the sun, even a scattered few with spots everywhere. Paints one of her books called them. Yet the closer they came to the big ranch house, the more tense she got and the more pale her mother looked.

  “Who are we coming to see?” Ava asked.

  Her mother’s voice trembled. “The man you saw at my house,” she said and Ava’s stomach fluttered. She’d wondered about him. “His name is Grey. Wilson,” her mom added. It was the last name Ava had seen on that arch above the driveway. “He owns this place.”

  “Should I call him Mr. Wilson?”

  Shadow hesitated. “We’ll let him decide.”

  When they got close to the house, the man was already standing on the porch. Her mother slowed down but kept driving, past the front steps and around to the back where she parked. She didn’t get out right away, and it looked like she was thinking really hard about something. Ava’s stomach took another spin. After a moment or two, Grey Wilson came out the back door onto the smaller, rear porch.

  Finally, her mom got out of the car and Ava followed. The man glanced down at her. “Welcome,” he said, nodding at Ava and Stormy in her arms. “Who’s your friend? He looks like one of my horses.”

  “Stormy.” Her eyes focused on a point just past his shoulder. He was tall with light brown hair but she couldn’t see his eyes with the sun in her face. “I don’t remember, but my grandma says she gave him to me when I was born.”

  “He’s a nice start,” Grey Wilson said, but Ava didn’t know what he meant. He cleared his throat. “You two want to come inside? Or stay out here to...talk?”

  Ava thought he looked as uneasy as her mother.

  “Out here is fine. Oh, before we talk, did I tell you on the phone?” her mother asked. “Jack has agreed to cater the rehearsal dinner. He has all kinds of ideas, so we’ll probably have to rein him in, but I like most of them. I don’t know if you will.” Her mom was talking too much, the way she always did when she was upset about something. She fished a piece of paper from her pocket, but he didn’t take it. “This is what Jack came up with.”

  Her mom kept going. “He’s trying out a new menu at the café right now, hoping to impress his boss. He hopes we’ll like his suggestions, too.” She smiled but it looked phony to Ava. “Actually, Mama seems to like working for him and Bertie. I may have detected a new spring in her step the other day when I went to help her pack up again at the farm.”

  A short silence followed. Was he mad? Or just wondering why her mom kept rambling about something so boring?

  “Let’s walk out to the barn.” He glanced at Ava as he came down the steps. “You okay with that?”

  She nodded, then held up Stormy as if to prove the point, but Ava had never been anywhere near a real horse before, not even at the Kansas State Fair every summer. She always begged her mother or Aunt Jenna to tour the horse barns, but then she’d chicken out. Their size was intimidating.

  When they got close to the barn, she wrinkled her nose. “What’s that?”

  Grey Wilson laughed. “To me, nectar of the gods,” he said. “Hay, horse flesh, oats and leather. Well, and manure. That’s probably what you’re reacting to.” He led them to the nearby corral fence. “Once you get used to it, you’ll probably love that smell, too.” He pointed toward a full wheelbarrow of brown stuff with straw sticking up here and there. “Cody? Where are you? Come move this. Now!”

  A younger guy with long legs loped out of the barn, blinking as if he’d been asleep. He tucked his plaid shirt into his jeans then tipped his straw hat at Ava and her mom. “Sorry, ma’am, miss. Meant to do this earlier.”

  They waited until he disappeared with the wheelbarrow around the side of the barn, muttering as he went. Then Grey Wilson said, “Well?” to her mother. “Who wants to go first?”

  With a too-bright look in her eyes, Mom drew Ava close, as she used to do when they lived at the apartment. Ava remembered the day she’d told her they had to move—to Aunt Jenna’s. That had been good news for Ava, except that she’d had to leave Hilga, her babysitter since she was born, yet her mom had acted as if she was trying to shield her from something bad. She hadn’t tried to talk to Ava about anything that serious since she took her to the new house. But maybe that was about to change. Ava stiffened against her.

  “Do you remember when you were little? And you always asked me—all the time—who your daddy was?”

  “Yes,” Ava said, her gaze darting from her mom to Grey Wilson. Her heart started to pound. “You never told me. When I got bigger, I stopped asking but I still wondered—because I knew I must have one. Somewhere,” she insisted. “Everybody does.”

  “I’m sorry for that, but I couldn’t tell you then, sweetie. He and I weren’t...together, and I thought we never would be. I didn’t want you to feel bad because we wouldn’t be able to see him.”

  Ava’s stomach hurt even worse. “He didn’t want me? You always said he would.”

>   Grey Wilson hunkered down until they were level with each other to meet her eyes. “Of course he did.” He touched her shoulder, his hand strong and warm even through her shirt. “Who wouldn’t want you, Ava? But your mom is right. There were grown-up reasons that kept her from telling you about...” He paused and Ava kept looking into his eyes. They weren’t in the sun now, so she could see them clearly. The same blue-green as her eyes. When he finally said “...me,” the lone word wasn’t necessary.

  Neither was what her mother said next. “Grey is your father, Ava.”

  “Wow.” She couldn’t breathe. She pulled free from his light touch on her shoulder, turned her back on him—on her mother, too—and, forgetting her hesitation about the horses, ran inside the barn, dropping Stormy in the dirt behind her.

  She didn’t know what to make of this.

  Or of the tears that clogged her throat and were running down her face.

  I have a father. My dad is Grey Wilson.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  SHADOW AND GREY STOOD, looking after her. “Well, that was pretty ham-handed on both our parts,” he said. “Guess there’s no handbook for this kind of thing, is there?”

  Or for telling you that Ava is your child.

  “No, and I wish there had been some easier way. For you and her.”

  “She was crying,” Grey added, his voice tight. “I kind of feel like crying myself.” He turned toward Shadow and caught sight of the tears coursing down her own cheeks. Without hesitation, he drew her to him and they held each other, clinging as if through the closeness of their bodies they might find some better answer, some way to soften the reality for Ava. “I hope we didn’t just traumatize her. Bringing her from Jenna’s house to yours probably shook her up before. She hasn’t had much time to make sense of that, either.”

  “I’ll go to her in a minute,” Shadow said. “Let’s leave her to take that in. She told you how she feels. She’s wanted a daddy all her life, Grey. But I feel so guilty. It was me who kept her from you—and you from her.”