Hawk's Way: Callen & Zach

by Joan Johnston

  He couldn’t live the past again. But there was always the future. Sam headed back inside the house for breakfast. There were no days off on a ranch. Despite everything, he had work that had to be done.

  He wasn’t hungry enough to cook himself a breakfast, settling for two cups of coffee while he stared out the curtained window in front of the sink. It was almost painful to be in this room without her. He wanted her here. Needed her here. Wished she were here.

  Callen had lavished her attention on everything from the shiny hardwood floor to the new coat of paint on the cabinets to the flowery wallpaper. She had made the room hers, made it light and lovely. It wasn’t a bachelor kitchen anymore.

  Sam remembered a story Callen had told him about what it was like to grow up with two older brothers. They had gotten into so much mischief the neighbors had dubbed them the Three Whitelaw Brats. She was always tagging along behind them.

  “But they didn’t want me there,” she said wistfully. “I was in their way. They had to be more careful when I was around—although I got hurt often enough even as it was.

  “I grew up thinking I could do anything they could do. Mostly, I could. It wasn’t until much later that I realized I didn’t want to do all the things they were doing, that there were other things that interested me more. Only, if I did those things, I wouldn’t have my brothers’ company. I would have to do them alone.

  “It’s hard to believe that with everything I had at Hawk’s Way, I could have been lonely. But I was. I was too much of a tomboy to get along with the other girls when I was younger, and by the time I realized I wanted to be just like them, it was too late. I couldn’t seem to go along with the crowd. I was too much my own person.

  “I spent a lot of time alone. That was what drew me to you at first, you know. I saw that same look of loneliness in your eyes. And I knew we could be friends.”

  “Why did you marry me, Callen?” he had asked.

  “I wanted someone to love. I wanted to be loved by someone. And I wanted a home and a family of my own.”

  She had expected so little from their marriage. And so very, very much.

  Sam’s neckhairs stiffened when he heard a knock at the front door. That alone announced it wasn’t a friendly visit. He made his way through the house to the front door. When he opened it, he found Garth Whitelaw standing there.

  “I want to talk,” Garth said. “And I won’t take no for an answer.”

  Sam hesitated before stepping back. “Come on in and say your piece.”

  Garth took a quick look around and saw that more improvements had been made since the last time he had been inside. The house had a warmth and coziness that proclaimed it a home. Unfortunately, his daughter was no longer living here. It was a situation he hoped to remedy.

  Garth turned to Sam and found the other man’s face unreadable. Which meant he didn’t detect the loathing that had been there the last time the two of them had conversed. But there was no liking evident, either.

  “I knew about those investments E.J. made,” he began.

  Sam’s hands balled into fists, which he pounded against his thighs. “Damnation! I knew it! I knew you were to blame!”

  “I didn’t say I was to blame,” Garth corrected in a terse voice. “I said I knew E.J. invested in those deals. He came to me and asked me what I thought. I advised him against it.”

  “The hell you did! If you’d told him not to invest, E.J. wouldn’t have invested.”

  Garth shook his head. “That’s where you’re wrong. E.J. was sick, Sam. He had prostate cancer. He knew he was dying, and he wanted to leave you more than what he had. He was hoping to make a killing, since all those deals offered a substantial return. Only E.J. got burned. I think he was afraid to face you and tell you the truth.” A muscle in his cheek jerked. “Just like I was.”

  Sam’s face had bleached white. “You’re lying.” E.J. sick? E.J. dying of cancer? It was all so improbable. So unbelievable. Only, Garth’s words had the ring of truth.

  “I wouldn’t have cared if he lost everything,” Sam said in a hoarse voice. “I wouldn’t have blamed him. He didn’t have to kill himself!”

  “He was afraid of the cancer, Sam. I think that was as much the cause of what he did as losing his fortune.” Garth sighed deeply. “I know it wasn’t my fault, and yet I still felt responsible when I heard E.J. had killed himself. I felt I deserved whatever scorn you heaped on my shoulders. I should have interfered. I should have argued more against those investments E.J. made. I should have made him tell you about the cancer. Maybe then…”

  Sam put out a hand to stop Garth’s speech. “You knew E.J. as well or better than anyone. Do you really think you could have stopped him once he got an idea fixed in his head?”

  “No. You’re right. He was one stubborn cuss.” Garth paused and added, “And you take after him. I came here today to tell you the truth. And to tell you you’re a fool if you let Callen slip through your fingers. I haven’t figured out why, but my daughter loves you enough to take your side against her own father. She threatened to leave my house if I said a word against you.”

  “She did?” That was news to Sam.

  “I suggest you get yourself on over to Zach’s place and get your wife and bring her home.”

  “I already have.”

  “What?”

  At that moment a sleepy-eyed, tousle-headed woman came walking into the room. She walked right into Sam’s open arms.

  “Hi, Daddy.”

  “What are you doing here, Callen? Zach came over in the middle of the night to tell us you’d left Sam and were sound asleep in his guest bedroom.”

  “I had. I was.” She shoved her bangs out of her eyes and yawned.

  “Then, what the hell are you doing here?”

  “Oh. Sam came and got me.” She smiled a Cheshire grin and looked lovingly up at Sam. “He near pounded the door down. I guess that must have been when Zach was gone to Hawk’s Way, because when I answered the door, Sam threw me over his shoulder and carried me away. It was very romantic.”

  Garth gawked. He couldn’t help it. “You two are crazy.”

  “Crazy in love,” Callen said as she stared into the warm welcome in Sam’s green eyes. “It seems Sam can’t live without me. And of course he wanted to be around while our child was growing up.” She laid a hand on her belly, and Sam put his hand over hers.

  Garth grinned as understanding dawned. “I’m going be a grandfather again? That’s wonderful news, Callen.” He leaned over quickly and kissed her cheek. He held out his hand to Sam. “Congratulations, Sam.”

  Sam took Garth’s hand. “I’ll take good care of her, sir. You don’t have to worry about that. And about the other…”

  “I should have explained everything sooner.”

  “I should have been more willing to listen.”

  It was as much of an apology or explanation as either man would ever offer. They shook hands once more before Garth stepped back.

  “I guess I’ll be going now. Does your mother know about the baby?”

  Callen shook her head.

  Garth’s grin broadened. “I can’t wait to tell her. You can expect her to call, I’m sure.”

  “Tell her to make it later,” Sam said as his arms closed once more around his wife.

  “I’ll do that.”

  A moment later Garth was gone.

  Sam scooped his wife into his arms and headed back toward the bedroom.

  “Sam!” Callen exclaimed. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m taking you back to bed, where I can make love to you to my heart’s content.”

  “That sounds like a lovely idea.”

  Sam knew he had made the right choice, the only choice in retrieving his wife from her brother’s house. He had sought vengeance against Garth Whitelaw to salve his own hurt. It wasn’t what E.J. would have wanted. When it came down to a choice between having his wife and hurting her father, Sam had known what he had to do.

 
Callen had made her capture and capitulation seem romantic when she related it to her father. But it had been far more difficult to convince her to come home than Sam liked to remember. In fact, he felt lucky to have convinced her at all.

  “Why do you want me back, Sam?” she had demanded.

  “Because I need you.”

  “That isn’t enough. I won’t be used as a pawn to hurt my father.”

  He had swallowed hard and said, “I love you, Callen.”

  “Oh, Sam.” She let one sob escape before she put a fist to her mouth to hold back the rest. “If you only knew how long I’ve waited to hear you say those words. But it’ll tear me apart to love you, if it means letting you destroy my father.”

  “I don’t want to destroy your father. Not anymore.”

  He had seen the hope in her eyes. “Really, Sam? Have you forgiven him?”

  “I believe he’s responsible for what happened to my father,” he countered. “But I’m willing to forego my vengeance for your sake.”

  “That’s not enough, Sam.”

  “What do you want from me?” he had asked bleakly. “I’ve chosen you instead of revenge. I’ve chosen love instead of hate. What more can I do?”

  “Stop punishing yourself for what wasn’t your fault. Forgive yourself for not knowing how upset and depressed E.J. was. Stop blaming yourself for your father’s death.”

  “It wasn’t my fault!”

  “I know that,” Callen had soothed. “And deep down, so do you. E.J. chose to die. He was the one who was responsible. Not my father. And not you.”

  “Callen…I…” She had been sitting in a chair in the kitchen. He had fallen on his knees in front of her as she opened her arms to him. He had clutched her tightly and felt her arms fold around him.

  He had grieved then, the bitter tears cleansing away his anger and his guilt and, along with them, the need for revenge. He was whole once more.

  He had picked Callen up in his arms, and she had clung to him, sitting close to him all the way home in his pickup. They hadn’t made love last night, but had fallen asleep in each other’s arms.

  Then Garth had come this morning and explained about E.J.’s cancer. Sam would always regret the way his father had died. But he would be able to look back now without the terrible hate and anger that had colored the past months.

  As he laid Callen on the bed and slipped in beside her, he pulled her close. “I love you, Callen. More than my life. More than anything.”

  “And I love you, Sam. I was just thinking…”

  “What?” Sam asked as he nuzzled his wife’s throat.

  “I know you and Daddy would really like each other if you spent some more time together. So why don’t we—”

  Sam shut his wife up in the time-honored way, by covering his mouth with hers. He had the feeling he was going to spend the next few years going toe-to-toe with his bride. Which wasn’t such a bad fate, when he thought about it.

  “Sam—”

  He kissed her again.

  “Sam…”

  And again.

  “Oh, Sam.”

  “I love you, Callen.”

  Sam grinned as he kissed his wife. At least he had gotten in the last word this time.

  EPILOGUE

  “SAM, COME QUICK!”

  As a new father, Sam jumped two feet whenever he heard Callen call these days. Her frantic cry from the kitchen had him sprinting there to join her. “What’s wrong? Are Karen and Kayla all right?”

  His question was answered before he finished voicing it. His twin one-year-old daughters were sitting happily in their high chairs with cereal dribbled across their mouths, the trays of their high chairs and the floor.

  “Come here and read this, Sam,” Callen said, thrusting the local newspaper across the kitchen table toward him.

  Sam took the paper without experiencing the knot that would once upon a time have formed in his stomach at the mere thought of confronting the written word.

  “Look at that,” Callen said, her finger thumping against the paper. “I can’t believe any brother of mine could do anything so incredibly foolish.”

  Sam read the item Callen had pointed out to him.

  WIFE WANTED

  Texas rancher seeks honest, responsible, compliant woman for wife. Must be capable of bearing children. Contact Zachary Whitelaw, Hawk’s Pride, or phone 555–6748.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” Sam said with a chortle of glee. “That’s one way to find a wife I’d never have considered.”

  “Do you see what that ad says?” Callen ranted. “Compliant! He might as well have said he wants a wife who’ll kowtow to everything he says. The nerve!”

  “Settle down, sweetheart. Your brother’s a big boy. He knows what he’s doing.”

  Callen snorted. “That’ll be the day. The only comfort I have is that the whole idea is so ridiculous, so preposterous, that no sane woman will respond.”

  Sam threw the paper on the table. “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see. Right now, I have more important things to think about.” He drew his wife up into his arms. “You two close your eyes,” he said to the little girls.

  Sam lowered his mouth and gave his wife a lingering kiss, doing his best to ignore the giggles from the high-chair peanut gallery.

  THE DISOBEDIENT BRIDE

  This book is dedicated to my editor, Melissa Senate, who knows when to push and when to have patience. Thanks, Mel.

  PROLOGUE

  “SOMETHING WRONG, MISS LITTLEWOLF?”

  Rebecca surreptitiously wiped the tears from her cheeks and glanced up into warm brown eyes that were caught in a tangled web of crow’s-feet. “I’m fine, Mrs. Fortunata. Just a little tired, I guess.”

  She and the short, rotund Italian woman had become friends because they both worked the graveyard shift at Children’s Hospital. Mrs. Fortunata mopped and buffed the floors every night. Rebecca was a nurse for children with cancer.

  The hospital cafeteria was nearly deserted. Rebecca’s shift had ended a half hour ago, but she didn’t have the will to get up and go home.

  “You don’t fool me,” Mrs. Fortunata said. “Eyes red like that, you got a cold or you got a problem. Which is it?”

  “Timmy Carstairs died tonight.”

  “You shouldn’t let yourself care so much,” Mrs. Fortunata gently chided.

  “I know.” A ragged sigh escaped. “I try to figure out which ones will make it, and which ones won’t.” Rebecca paused to swallow the huge lump in her throat. “I thought Timmy was going to be one of the lucky ones. He sure had me fooled.” She tried to smile, but her lips wobbled dangerously.

  Mrs. Fortunata shoved her mop into the nearby pail and wedged herself into the booth beside Rebecca. She took Rebecca’s hand in hers and patted it. “Nice young thing like you oughta be headed home to a husband and kids of her own.”

  Rebecca tried for the smile again. And failed again. It was Mrs. Fortunata’s life ambition to see her married and pregnant. Preferably in that order. “Maybe someday.”

  Mrs. Fortunata snorted. “You been sayin’ that the whole two years I’ve known you. Why don’t I ever see you with some nice young man? Ever since you kissed that Marty What’s-his-name goodbye, you’ve been alone. You got something against men these days?”

  This time Rebecca managed the smile. “No. I like men just fine.”

  “You haven’t met the right man yet, is that it?”

  Rebecca retrieved her hand and took a sip of lukewarm coffee to keep from having to answer. She had met the right man years ago. But she hadn’t been the right woman for him.

  “How’re you gonna fill up your life,” Mrs. Fortunata demanded, with flourishing gestures to emphasize her point, “if you don’t find yourself a husband and have yourself some children?”

  “I’d like to run a summer camp for kids with cancer,” Rebecca replied. “If I could just figure out a way to finance it.” The kids who were in remission needed a place where they could go
and just be kids, but they often had special needs that couldn’t be met by a regular camp experience. “It’s probably never going to happen, but I can always dream.”

  “Everybody dreams. Only, you gotta do something to make those dreams come true. Me, I wanta quit moppin’ floors someday.”

  “Why, Mrs. Fortunata, I thought you liked mopping floors,” Rebecca teased.

  “Tell you what. You get a camp for kids, you hire me to work for you. I quit moppin’ floors like that.” Mrs. Fortunata snapped two arthritic fingers together, or tried to. She gave up and made a flamboyant gesture that said it all without the snap.

  “Meanwhile, you look here.” Mrs. Fortunata reached into a pocket in the huge set of white overalls she wore and produced a ragged newspaper. She shoved it in front of Rebecca. “You need a husband. Here’s a man who wants a wife. You give him a call. What do you say?”

  Rebecca stared at the advertisement in the personals section of the Dallas newspaper.

  WIFE WANTED

  Texas rancher seeks honest, responsible, compliant woman for wife. Must be capable of bearing children. Contact Zachary Whitelaw, Hawk’s Pride, or phone 555–6748.

  Her eyes went wide with disbelief. “I know this man!”

  “You do?”

  Rebecca nodded excitedly. “My father was foreman of his ranch. I lived at Hawk’s Pride from the time I was thirteen until I turned seventeen.”

  “Why’d you leave?”

  “My dad died from a heart attack, and I used the life insurance settlement to go to college. There was no reason to go back.”

  “Now there is. You see this man. You tell him you want to be his wife.”