by Tina Leonard
“You are crazy,” Gage told his brother. “Thank you for taking him off our hands,” he said to Tempest. “He was the problem child.”
“I don’t doubt it.” Tempest grinned at her husband. “Split veggie fajitas with me?”
Chelsea smiled at Tempest. “I’m so glad you’re my sister-in-law now. Someone who understands the joys of living with a vegetarian.”
Millicent sighed. “Shaman, will you please go rescue Fitzgerald from that woman?”
They all looked in surprise at Millicent, then across the room. Fitzgerald sat under a TV in the bar, enjoying a tall drink and a pretty redhead who was chatting him up. For an elderly gentleman, Shaman thought, Fitzgerald was managing just fine.
“He looks happy enough to me. Fitzgerald can take care of himself, Mother.”
Tempest glanced at her mother-in-law, then turned her gaze to Shaman. “It wouldn’t hurt to shoo off his new friend, do you think, Shaman?”
He looked at her, surprised. “A man likes to have the attention of a pretty woman sometimes, Tempest. She’s not hurting anything.”
His wife gave him a small kick under the table and he blinked, realizing that she was trying to tell him something. He wasn’t certain what message he was supposed to be receiving but he sighed and got up. “Can’t a man have a little companionship?”
“No!” Chelsea and Millicent and Tempest said at once.
“I kind of hate to do this to the guy,” Shaman said. “It’s probably the first attention he’s had in years. I know I was a lonely man until you came into my life, Tempest. Thing about it is, if we weren’t pregnant, I’d be sitting over there with Fitzgerald.”
“I assure you,” Millicent said drily, “that Fitzgerald is not suffering from a lack of attention. I’d wheel my chair over there to help him out, but I have two sons at this table who can do the honors for their mother. But I can do it myself if I must.”
“Oh,” Shaman said, finally getting it. “Excuse me, ladies.”
He did his duty, noting that Fitzgerald seemed pleased with the intervention. Shaman tried diligently to process the fact that his mother was involved with her chauffeur, then decided it wasn’t any of his business. “All right,” he said, returning to the table. “The coast is clear. Fitzgerald is out of commission, and the lady will have to go find another gentleman to play with.”
Cat looked at him with big, round eyes. “Wow, Uncle Shaman. Don’t you know I’m not supposed to hear things like that? I’m even supposed to believe that babies are brought in by magic storks in the night.”
Shaman grinned at her. “That’s right, sweetie. You just keep on believing it, too.”
“Because if any boy ever tries to convince you that you should kiss him—” Gage began, but his daughter raised a hand to silence him.
“Dad, it’s uncool to bring it up all the time. I get it. Boys are icky.”
“That’s right,” Gage agreed.
“That’s right,” Chelsea said, “for now.”
“Boys are icky,” Tempest said, “until you find the right one.”
Everyone looked at her. Millicent stared, Chelsea stared, Gage stared, and Shaman smirked at his family, whose gazes then locked on him. “Well, of course I’m Mr. Right. What did you think? That Tempest is the kind of woman who has to settle for subpar?”
“Oh, brother,” Gage said.
Cat smiled at her uncle. “You are awesome, Uncle Shaman. That’s exactly what I told Tempest when I said she needed to come meet you. That’s when you were living in Italy, Tempest, remember?”
Shaman looked at his wife. “You came all the way back here for a blind date my niece arranged?”
He thought it was darling that Tempest blushed. “Are you going to order dinner or not?” she demanded.
He laughed. “I had no idea how much fun family could be.” Then he leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, deciding to quit worrying about their marriage for the moment.
He wanted her so much. It was an ache that never seemed to subside. Shaman ruminated on this, in a hazy glow of falling-in-love, until he realized that Bobby Taylor sat in a corner of the bar, watching them. The man was sizing them up, letting Shaman know he was aware of every move he made.
Shaman’s not-completely-healed wound started to itch and burn at the back of his head, and he instinctively reached out for Tempest’s hand. She was starting to mean the world to him—she was becoming his world—and the surge of undeniable killing rage he remembered from war flowed into him, burning with intensity. He recoiled from the memory, surprised—but only for a moment.
He’d protect her and his family at all costs.
He walked over to the man at the bar.
“Evening,” Taylor said, nodding to Shaman. “How’s the head?”
Shaman felt his blood boil. He had family here tonight, and wasn’t in the mood to have the discussion with Taylor he really wanted to have. “I’m assuming you decided your little job on my skull was necessary because of your sister.”
Taylor shrugged. “Didn’t say I did it, Phillips. Heard about it in town. I don’t know who clocked you.”
“Sure you don’t.” Shaman wondered if Taylor was certifiable or just working things through in his own vengeful way. “Saying it was you, why would you think busting open my grapefruit would get you even with Tempest?”
“Again, not saying I did anything to you. Why would I? But I could see getting her attention through the man she’s having a baby with.” Bobby glanced across the room at Tempest, who was watching them, her face frozen with an emotion that looked a lot like fear. “You know, Tempest never had anyone in her life who really loved her before.”
“I don’t believe this is about love.” Shaman stared at Taylor, holding back the urge to wring his neck here and now. “It’s about something else.”
“She stole from me. She stole from our family. My siblings and me should have had what was ours. She came along, and I guess Dad figured she was the right person to leave the whole thing to. I don’t understand that.”
“It doesn’t matter what Bud Taylor did. It was his money, his land. Tempest had nothing to do with his decision.”
“I see she hasn’t told you everything,” Taylor said. “The woman you call Tempest—my half sister, Zola—told our father that if he didn’t recognize her as his legal daughter, she’d sue him to take a paternity test.”
Shaman winced. “That doesn’t sound like Tempest.”
“Ask her.” Bobby lifted his glass of whiskey. “It was all about the money.”
“She makes enough to live all right.” Shaman didn’t know that for certain—they’d never discussed money—but everything he’d heard about Tempest seemed to indicate she did just fine on her own.
“You’d best talk to your wife. She spent enough time with Pop at the end of his life to turn his head, make him rewrite his will. And suddenly, all of us were out in the cold. How do you expect us to feel?”
Shaman wasn’t about to share that Tempest said she’d donated all the money. Taylor had to know; he’d been sitting in the booth that night when she had told her story. “I know this is a dumb question, but if your father built his stake from nothing, why don’t you do the same?”
“You don’t get it, do you? You’re just a farmhand, so you wouldn’t,” Taylor said dismissively. “Look, it’s biblical. The birthright should go to the child it belongs to, not be stolen away by an impostor.”
Shaman swallowed, trying to understand Taylor’s world view. “I don’t really care about the beef between you and your sister. I want you to leave her alone. She’s my wife now, and I will protect her and my family. And if that means taking you out, I’ll do that. I won’t lose any sleep over it, either.”
“I know.” Taylor put his glass on the counter. “Tough guy.”
Gage came to stand beside him, overhearing the last comment. “Tough guys. Plural.”
Taylor got up from the barstool. “Tell Zola her brother wants his due.”
“I’ll tell her nothing, and you won’t, either,” Shaman said. “That’s how this works. You say one word to Tempest and I beat the stuffing out of you.”
“And then I beat more stuffing out of you,” Gage said. “It will not be pleasant.”
“Yeah, I’m scared,” Taylor said. “But which one of us has a scar under his Stetson?” He sauntered from the bar, raising a hand to Tempest in a meaningful wave as he left.
“I’m going to kill him,” Shaman said.
“No, you’re not,” Gage told his brother. “He’ll step in it eventually, and we’ll get him locked up legally.”
“I’m worried about Tempest.” Cold snakes of fear wound through Shaman’s stomach.
“Yeah. She should probably come stay at Rancho Diablo. There’s a lot of companionship and stuff out there, and lots of babies. She’d probably enjoy having a bunch of women to gab with, anyway.”
“Maybe that’s a good idea.” They headed back to the table.
“What was that all about?” Millicent demanded. “You two looked like you were about to engage in fisticuffs. Can I point out that I’m in a wheelchair? I can’t knock your heads together as I once did.”
“Yeah,” Cat said, “Dad, you looked like a hulking bear. And Uncle Shaman was all puffed up like one of Uncle Jonas’s peacocks.”
Shaman looked at Tempest, seeing her pale face. “Hey, this is supposed to be a party. Let’s eat, everyone,” he said, as the food was served.
“What was that all about?” she whispered as he took his seat next to her.
“Nothing,” Shaman said, “nothing at all.”
Of course, if she ever learned that her half brother really had taken a whack at him, and Shaman hadn’t told her the truth, all bets were off. He had a feeling Tempest wasn’t the kind of woman who took being fibbed to very well. Still, he couldn’t be honest—how could a man tell his wife that her brother had in fact decked him?
He was afraid for her. He didn’t want her having any contact with Taylor. The thing about Tempest was that she’d confront Bobby, if she felt she needed to.
“So what do you think about going to see Kendall and Xav at Rancho Diablo?” Shaman asked his wife.
“I’m going out there tonight,” Millicent said. “Tempest can ride in the limo with me and Cat, if she likes.”
“Oh. I’ll stay with Shaman,” she said. “Thank you, though. I may drive out tomorrow to visit.”
Shaman completely lost his appetite. He kept seeing Taylor’s sweaty face. “I’d rather you go with Mom.”
“Yeah, Aunt Tempest, come with us! Nana Fiona’s knitting you some baby booties. And there’s almost always gingerbread.”
Tempest smiled, but looked at Shaman. “I think newlyweds should stay together.”
“I’ll drive out tomorrow for a bit, after the crews are done at Dark Diablo,” Shaman said.
“I’ll wait to ride with you, then.” Tempest picked up her fajita, dismissing the topic.
Shaman and Gage glanced at each other. Gage shrugged, and Shaman decided to drop the subject. For the moment.
But something was going to have to be done.
* * *
“SHAMAN,” Tempest said when they were alone that night, after Millicent and everyone had piled in either the limo or Gage’s truck to head back to Rancho Diablo. “We’ve been married less than forty-eight hours and you’re trying to send me away.” She ran her hands down his chest. Something had Shaman tense, taut, strung tight. She wanted him to relax and go back to being the man she’d known this summer.
The man who’d loved her every minute he could.
He moved her hands away from his chest. “Tempest, I don’t think it would come as a shock to you if I said that we don’t know each other very well. We don’t have a lot to build on.”
She blinked. “Oh, I see.”
He took a step back, his face creased with unhappiness. “Maybe we jumped into things a bit fast.”
She shook her head. “It’s more than that. It’s something else.”
“I wanted to give you my name.” He looked straight into her eyes and she saw shadows there, shadows she’d never noticed before. “I wanted to give my children my name.”
“Stop,” she said. “You’re not telling the truth. You once told me I had to be honest, but you’re not doing the same.”
“All right. I don’t see where this can go. You know we wouldn’t have gotten married, and wouldn’t even be together, if you weren’t pregnant. You’d be on a stage somewhere, or traveling the world.”
She felt pain like she’d never known. “This is pride talking.”
He shook his head. “When you’ve lived in the places I’ve lived, you know the difference between ego and truth. We should stick to our original agreement, and not pretend there’s anything more.”
“I don’t believe you. I don’t believe one word you’re saying.” Tempest picked up her purse. “Maybe you do, but I don’t.”
He watched her as she walked to the door. “You know, Shaman, I know a little something about acting. I know something about make-believe. And right now, I know you’re acting.” She gave him a sad smile. “I don’t know why you’re pretending you don’t care about me, but I know you do.”
“Where are you going?”
She shrugged. “What do you care?” she said, and walked out the door, already wishing she was in bed with Shaman, letting him hold her the way she knew he wanted badly to do.
Chapter Ten
By May, Shaman was devastated. No one would tell him anything about Tempest. Even Cat didn’t seem to know her whereabouts. He knew full well that the twins should have been born by now.
He’d blown it.
There was no question he’d made a major strategic error. Such poor thinking would have cost him dearly in the war zone. “The problem,” he told Candy, “was that I wanted so badly to protect her that I ran off the only thing that made me feel redeemed. She was the other part of my soul, but I never told her that.”
Candy pranced in an almost perfect circle, her coat glossy and black. It had taken him months to gentle her, train her, mold her into the beauty she was now. The barn had gone up, a new bunkhouse had been constructed, and Dark Diablo was no longer a lonely dot on the road between nowhere and somewhere. There was a new roof on the main house. Jonas was so pleased with the changes at his ranch that he’d given Shaman a monster raise and offered him long-term employment. Jonas wanted a big house built out here, in the style of the family home in Rancho Diablo, and he wanted Shaman to oversee the project.
Shaman was considering the offer. He still had the horse program to get off the ground, though he now had six good horses in the barn. It was a start.
Someone else could take over the job. He felt as if he was waiting, hoping, for something that was never going to happen. But now he knew: Cupertino was never coming back.
The flip side of this realization was the one silver lining: Bobby Taylor no longer worried him. The man floated around town, telling everyone who would lend an ear that Tempest had stolen from him. No one listened. Everyone knew the truth.
Shaman kept a gun loaded in the farmhouse, but he knew Bobby’s one cowardly act wasn’t likely to be repeated. Taylor had really been after Tempest, his rage stoked by overhearing their conversation in the restaurant that night. Shaman knew Bobby was still living in the old Cupertino shack where Zola had grown up.
But Tempest had left Zola behind long ago, and Shaman didn’t figure it mattered whether Bobby camped out in the falling-down rattrap.
His mother made the donation to Tempest Elementary School, anonymously, as Tempest had asked, even when Shaman told her that his marriage had been, as she’d noted, a business transaction.
“A promise is a promise,” Millicent told him, and sent the check. “Nothing’s keeping you here now. Fitzgerald and I are getting married, and I want to retire. So it’s time for you to focus on Gil Phillips, Inc.”
He kissed he
r. “Congratulations. When’s the wedding?”
“In a month. I’m waiting for a special wedding suit I ordered from New York.”
Shaman was happy for his mother. She was completely different from the woman who’d raised them, and who’d been Gil Phillips’s wife. “You deserve happiness.”
“We all do,” she’d snapped back, in true Millicent style. “You’d be happy if you weren’t so stubborn.”
But he was stubborn. It was perhaps his finest trait. Stubborn enough to stay in the military after he’d been hit by a sniper, stubborn enough to drag to safety a man in the line of fire, stubborn enough to run off a wife he loved like crazy in order to protect his children and her.
“I could have kept Tempest here,” he told Candy, “or I could have moved away with her. The thing was, this is her home. She was ready to come home.” But Bobby had been determined to take his revenge on his sister.
There was nothing that could be done about Taylor’s desire for vengeance. The money he sought was gone, the lawsuit decided in Jonas Callahan’s favor.
“Candy, I’ll miss you. When I first laid eyes on you, I thought Jonas had brought me a bag of bones, mean bones, to train. I thought he was nuts. But you know, he’s not as dumb as he looks. You turned out well, pretty lady.”
He led her into the state-of-the-art barn, not letting any of the hands take her from him. He rinsed her off with a hose, then swept the water from her coat with a plastic sweat scraper. He ran a gentle comb through her mane, then took a towel to thoroughly dry her, though he didn’t really need to. The warmer weather would have done so, but he wanted to spend a few last moments with her.
When he was finished, he gave her a final pat. He walked to the small farmhouse, picked up his gun bag and his duffel, loaded his truck and drove away from Dark Diablo, his heart in a lot worse shape than when he’d first arrived almost a year ago.
* * *
SHAMAN PULLED INTO Hell’s Colony, sudden memories washing over him at the sight of his family home rising up on the Texas horizon. The large buildings always seemed to overwhelm the landscape, a colossal group of white structures sprawled across the land Gil Phillips had amassed.