The Rancher's Secret Child

by Brenda Minton

  “You almost got it that time,” Marcus assured his son.

  Oliver looked up at him, his face hidden beneath Marcus’s hat. “I’m going to be a cowboy.”

  “Are you now?” Marcus asked. “There’s a lot of other things you can be. A doctor or lawyer, maybe a policeman, or even a teacher.”

  “Yeah, but you’re a cowboy and I’m your son.”

  Marcus put a hand on Oliver’s shoulder. “Yeah, you are.”

  They were working it out. Oliver’s anger that they’d hid his parentage from him. Marcus’s lack of trust in himself. She didn’t know where that left her. Alone, she guessed. No, not alone. She would still see Oliver. She had her parents, friends, coworkers.

  She had a job offer to come here. But if she did, would that make things difficult for Oliver and Marcus? Would it complicate their ability to bond? She didn’t want to do that to them.

  Marcus noticed her first. He nodded his head in greeting, and when he did, Oliver looked up and noticed her. A grin spread across his face and he held up the rope as if it were a prize he’d won.

  “Look, Lissa. I can rope! It isn’t easy, but I did a good job.”

  “I saw that. I’m really proud of you.” She reached to pet Marcus’s dog. The animal plopped to its belly, sighing as he rested his head on his front paws. “Alex went home to feed his animals and then he’s going to town to help with cleanup.”

  Marcus nodded. “I’m going to get what I can out of this place, and tomorrow see what I can do in town.”

  “How will people rebuild or replace what they’ve lost if they don’t have flood insurance?”

  “They will get help from government agencies. Some probably do have insurance to cover the damage, or at least the contents of their homes. And a lot of folks will just dig in, recoup what they can and make do.”

  “Maybe we can find a way to help?”

  Marcus had a wheelbarrow and he tossed a couple of bags of feed in it. “We? As in you and me, or do you have a pet in your pocket I don’t know about?”

  “I wouldn’t mind helping out.”

  “It takes time to put together a fund-raiser.”

  Meaning she’d be gone. Maybe he was right. Why would she even consider volunteering herself for something that would take weeks to pull off? By the time they could get it arranged, she’d be in San Antonio and back at work. She didn’t even know what it was she wanted to arrange. She just wanted to help the small town that had become a big part of her life in a short amount of time.

  “It’ll work out,” Marcus said quietly. “And if you want to tell Essie your idea, I’m sure she’d dig in and get it done.”

  They walked out the back door of the barn, Marcus pushing the wheelbarrow. He had explained that he had to feed his cattle but didn’t want to get his truck stuck. He’d considered using his ATV, but then he’d have to get it from the equipment shed.

  Oliver had run ahead of them. He returned, grinning big.

  “Knock knock.”

  Marcus groaned. “Another one?”

  Oliver nodded, walking backward to face them. “Yep.”

  “Who’s there?” Marcus asked.

  “Partridge.” Oliver giggled as he said it.

  “Partridge who?”

  “Partridge who ate a pear tree.”

  “Nope.” Marcus shook his head.

  “Really?” Lissa asked. “You’re not going to laugh?”

  “He’s going to have to do better than that.” Marcus answered, but she saw the twinkle of amusement in his dark eyes.

  He was enjoying this game of Oliver making up jokes to crack his seriousness. She guessed Oliver probably enjoyed it, too. It was a way for the two of them to bond.

  “You’re getting the hang of this parenting thing.” She gave the compliment, meaning it. She knew what it meant for her, that he would soon take her place in Oliver’s life. But he was the parent, not her, she reminded herself.

  They continued on through the soggy grass, the wheelbarrow tire occasionally becoming bogged down in the mud. If anyone had seem them, they probably would have thought they were a family.

  But they were the furthest thing from family. And when this was all over, she feared she would feel more alone than ever.

  Chapter Twelve

  A contractor finally got to Marcus’s house at the end of the week. He walked around the outside of the building and then he tentatively stepped inside. Marcus followed. The cat ran past them. He needed to keep it out of the house if he could. Or she. The cat was definitely a she. A pregnant she.

  “It’s going to have to be torn down, Marcus. I’m sorry. I know that isn’t what you wanted to hear. The house had issues before the flood. Now it’s just hazardous. You need to keep out, and keep everyone else out.”

  Including that cat.

  “You’re sure? Even if money is no issue?”

  Tad, the contractor, shook his head. “I’ll build you anything you want on this land, but this house is done. Not just because of the flood. Main supports are rotted. Some are now broken. The flood took a big chunk out of your foundation. You can’t repair this house.”

  Marcus walked away, glad he’d left Lissa and Oliver with Marissa. He needed time to think, to come to terms with the loss of this dream. He hadn’t allowed himself many dreams in life, but this one had been a constant. All the years riding bulls, the money he’d invested in the stock market—it had all been with this one goal in mind. He’d wanted the Brown ranch. Hope Acres, they’d called it.

  Truth was, he’d wanted more than the land. He could have bought land anywhere, but he’d wanted this place for one reason and one reason only—the memories.

  Because of Oliver, that dream had grown into something more. He wanted his son to know a home where people were happy, where they trusted each other and where tempers didn’t mean scars. He wanted to be the man who would provide that home, that stability. He’d never thought of this house in terms of children, but with a son, he needed all that this house represented.

  He stood by the creek and listened as Tad got in his truck and left. After a few minutes he headed for his own truck. He didn’t have a clear plan. When nothing made sense, he drove. This time he didn’t head for Bluebonnet or for Alex’s place. He wanted to be far away from people who would talk sense into him.

  He didn’t want to look at Lissa or Oliver and feel conviction.

  He wanted a drink. As the thought crashed into his brain, unbidden, he stopped the truck. In the middle of the road he hit the brakes and sat there. No cars were coming. There wasn’t anyone for miles around. He sat back, brushing a hand over his face as he contemplated what he’d almost done.

  Two days ago he’d met with a lawyer, asking what it would take to get custody of a son when his name wasn’t on the birth certificate. Today he was thinking about falling off the wagon. He was the last thing Oliver needed. A house, no matter what it meant to him, wouldn’t fix this. A house wouldn’t make him the person he wanted to be. For Oliver. He shifted into gear and accelerated on down the road.

  At the first intersection he did a U-turn and headed back to town. In the opposite direction of temptation.

  When he pulled into the parking lot of the church, he saw Pastor Matthews with a few other men surveying the roof of the church. It needed to be replaced. It could have waited another six months or so, but the rain had brought about some weak spots and exposed leaks.

  Marcus got out and joined the group that had gathered. They stood on the front lawn, looking up at the steeple.

  “Marcus, glad you showed up. We’re trying to decide if the steeple can handle another ten years or if we should repair it, as well as the roof.” Pastor Matthews winked, giving Marcus a clear clue as to how he felt about the steeple. He had wanted it repaired for a year or more, but the men of the church had stubbornly dug in the
ir heels and said to wait.

  Marcus ignored the meaningful look the pastor gave him. “It’s leaning a bit. I know you all will do the right thing. And I’ll do what I can to help.”

  “Now that you’re a family man, it appears we’ll have you paying more attention to these things.” Dan Wilson, Marissa’s grandfather, laughed as he made the comment.

  Marcus didn’t respond. He didn’t have words.

  Pastor Matthews shook a few hands and excused himself from the meeting. “Marcus and I need to talk about some other problems around town. Maybe we can think of a way to help the folks that were hardest hit.”

  The other men wandered off and Marcus followed his pastor around the side of the building. There hadn’t been much wind during the storm, but enough to take off some shingles.

  “What’s going on?” Duncan Matthews asked as he stopped to survey one of the older windows that hadn’t been replaced in the remodeling they’d done over the past few years.

  “I can’t do this.”

  “Can’t help the community?” the pastor asked.

  “I can’t do this to Oliver. I don’t want to hurt him.”

  Serious brown eyes studied him, waiting for him to spill it.

  “I’m one step away from falling off the wagon. I don’t have a home.” That was Marcus’s truth. It was his reality.

  “Oh, I see. Did you fall off the wagon?”

  “Not yet.”

  “But you’re determined to try?” He said it without a smile.

  “No, I’m not determined. But it could happen. And what would that do to him?” Marcus slid a hand through his hair. “I don’t want to take Oliver from Lissa. She’s raised him. He has a bond with her.”

  “I can understand that you’re worried. Would it make you feel better if I said I wasn’t? You aren’t the same man you were a few years ago.”

  Marcus clenched his jaw. “I know I’m not. But how do I take that boy from the woman who has been a mother to him?”

  “How about the two of you talk and work something out? Maybe share custody...”

  “She lives in San Antonio and I live in Bluebonnet.” And he couldn’t imagine her being gone. That was a complication he hadn’t planned on. He’d never planned on a woman changing all of his plans, all of his goals.

  Pastor Matthews grinned. “I guess you could marry her.”

  Floored would not have been a strong enough word for what Marcus felt when Duncan made that suggestion. Marriage had to be the furthest thing from his mind. And the worst possible option.

  “Marry her?”

  Duncan shrugged. “Seems perfect to me. Two people who both love a child and who seem to have some type of feelings for each other.”

  “I don’t love her.” Marcus stuttered the words.

  Again the pastor lifted a casual shoulder. “Of course not.”

  Of course he didn’t love her. “She’s a thorn in my side who happened to turn my world upside down.”

  “Tell me how you really feel, cowboy.”

  The words, softly spoken in that all too familiar voice. He cringed and turned.

  Lissa stood at the corner of the building. Fortunately alone. He shoved his hat back and pulled it forward, trying to find the best way out of this mess. She didn’t wait; she headed his way and the coward of a pastor hightailed it out of there.

  Lissa, with those bright blue eyes and a smile that said Gotcha, stopped in front of him. “Oh, don’t get all red in the face. Of course you don’t want to marry me. Thorn in the side, though? That seems a little unfair.”

  He sighed. “Yeah, that was unfair. Maybe I was being too lenient.”

  “I’m the disaster of a woman who crashed into your life and made you face mistakes, and the future. And being the cowboy you are, you’d rather have gone on your merry way as a bachelor with no worries.”

  “I guess that about nails it. Where’s Oliver?”

  “At least you’re honest about your feelings for me,” she said, letting him off the hook. “Oliver is around front with Lucy. Why? Do you have more you need to say to me?”

  “No, or maybe I do need to say more. You’re not a thorn. Or a disaster. If I was a man who could marry...”

  “If you weren’t punishing yourself for being Jesse Palermo’s offspring.”

  “Yes.” He had to give her points for being blunt. “If I wasn’t Jesse Palermo’s son. If I wasn’t an alcoholic. If I wasn’t a sorry excuse for a human being, and if I could ever be good enough for someone like you...I would marry you.”

  “That was sweet. Not exactly a proposal, but sweet. And because I don’t want a roller-coaster ride of a relationship, I’m very glad you’re not asking.”

  They stood there facing each other, and he couldn’t help feeling empty as they said those words to one another. Lissa bit down on her bottom lip and looked away, and he wondered if she felt it, too. As if the two of them, because of their pasts, would always be missing out on what other people took for granted.

  Or maybe he was just extra negative today because of the house, Oliver and feeling the worst case of temptation he’d felt since he quit drinking. And it wasn’t alcohol tempting him. It was her. His heart did a strange stutter at the realization.

  “Lissa, I...”

  “I know you hired a lawyer to take Oliver. I get it. He’s your son and you have the right. I’m begging you to not take him completely.” Her eyes welled up with tears.

  He reached out and brushed them away, and then his finger slid down her cheek to her chin. He tipped her face, wishing he could kiss her. Wishing he could do more than be the man who hurt her.

  “I’m not taking Oliver. I met with the lawyer to see about custody. He needs to be with you. I’ve set up a trust fund and child support. We can work on visits.”

  “Marcus, he needs you.”

  “Yeah, I guess he probably does. A dad is important. Or so I’ve been told. We’ll make sure he spends time here. But he needs more than I can give him. I’m a recovering alcoholic who doesn’t have a home.”

  “Right. Of course.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek.

  Marcus tilted his head, capturing her mouth in a last, sweet kiss.

  * * *

  “I have a new joke.” Oliver rounded the corner of the church and skidded to a halt.

  Lissa pulled back from Marcus and what had felt like a goodbye kiss. She hated goodbyes. Most especially this one. She blinked, because she wasn’t going to cry. She wasn’t going to let him get to her.

  But it might have been too late for that. Because he had become the unexpected. Not only was he not the person she’d thought he would be, but the way he touched her so profoundly had taken her by surprise.

  In two weeks he’d become a person she trusted. And against all odds, she’d let him into her heart. No. He’d taken her heart captive.

  “Were you two kissing?” Oliver said it as if it had to be the most disgusting thing ever. “Gross.”

  Marcus laughed. “Don’t worry, Oliver, I’ll wash my cheek real good and I probably won’t get cooties.”

  “The girl is the one who gets cooties,” Lissa countered, because it felt safer to have this conversation than to think about the future.

  The joking and the friendship proved they could co-parent Oliver. They would work out visits. They would probably see each other often. On the inside she cringed, because seeing him often might be the hardest part of this entire plan.

  “What’s your joke?” Marcus asked, picking up his son and tweaking his nose.

  Oliver’s smile split his face, exposing the dimple that made him look so much like his father. “Knock knock.”

  “Who’s there?” Marcus almost grinned as he asked.

  Lissa watched the two of them. Marcus trying hard to be serious and Oliver making a funny face, prob
ably hoping that would tip the scale in his favor.

  “Banana.”

  “Banana who?”

  “Banana...” Oliver grimaced. He bit down on his lip. “I think I forgot.”

  Marcus laughed, and Oliver did, too. “Kid, I think that’s the best one yet. I think we should get Alex and go ride a pony.”

  “I made you laugh?” Oliver grabbed his hand.

  “Yeah, you made me laugh.” Marcus set Oliver back on his feet and took him by the hand. “Knock knock.”

  “Who’s there?” Oliver moved in close to his side.

  “Pony.”

  Oliver grinned big. “Pony who?”

  “Pony who wants you to ride him.”

  Oliver fell over laughing. A belly laugh that was contagious. “That’s not even a joke.”

  Marcus took off his hat and put it on his son’s head. “Nope, but it made you laugh. And it was definitely better than ‘banana, I can’t think of the rest.’”

  Lissa followed the two of them, picturing them as Oliver got older. And Marcus... He would get older, too. They would probably rodeo together. Marcus would teach his son to ride and to be a rancher. And someday Oliver would choose this life over the life she offered in the city.

  It unsettled her, all of these changes. For as long as she could remember, she’d maintained an orderly life. She set goals. She worked hard to keep everything and everyone in a neat box. Friends. Family. Career.

  Oliver. She’d kept him in a box, too. He was Sammy’s son. But deep down, he’d become her child. She loved him the way any mom would love a child. She needed to tell him that.

  Marcus was offering a way for her to continue that relationship, but it meant taking Oliver from Bluebonnet and from the family here. Everything had become infinitely more complicated.

  “I’m heading back to Alex’s,” Marcus told her as they neared the front of the church. “How did the two of you get here?”