by Myrna Temte
“So am I. Janie feels like she may have lost her last living relative. I’ve been there, and I won’t let her go through this without at least trying to give her some support.”
“Why does it have to be you?” Sam asked. “Doesn’t she have any other friends?”
“No one close enough to matter. Janie doesn’t have a tribe to fall back on the way everyone here does. She only has me.”
“You’re making a big mistake.”
She paused at the doorway to the gym. “Well, if I am, it’s my mistake. You’ve warned me, so you don’t need to worry about it anymore. No one’s going to blame you.”
“I’m not worried about my own hide, here. I’m worried about yours and the—”
“Well, I’m not your responsibility. I see Jackson and Maggie over there,” she said, pointing toward the podium at the front of the room. “You’ll have to excuse me now.”
Sam watched her hurry across the gym floor, and felt as if she’d sucker-punched him. He’d been trying to express his concern about her well-being and the baby’s, and she’d dismissed him from her life as easily and quickly as a snap of her fingers. Damn, but it hurt.
For the past two and a half weeks, he had done everything he could think of to be supportive without putting any pressure on her to take another pregnancy test or make a decision about marriage. He’d hated every blessed minute of it, but he’d done it because that was what she supposedly had wanted. And this was his reward. On her list of priorities, he still obviously ranked lower than Janie Carson, Melissa North and who knew how many others.
Well, how about considering what he wanted for a change? He certainly was sick and tired of her playing hot and cold. She’d made love with him, conceived his baby—at least he thought she had. She would have told him if her period had started, and if she hadn’t had one by now, she must be pregnant.
He couldn’t stand to sit back like a nice, polite little boy anymore. He needed to know if she was pregnant, and if she was, he needed to know if she would marry him and commit herself to raising their child with him. If she was planning to leave him, he wanted to know it now.
The time had come to face facts and make decisions. It didn’t matter whether Julia was ready or not. He was.
Fourteen
It seemed to Julia as if it took forever to talk with Jackson Hawk about Janie’s situation and then line up her own substitute for the evening. The twenty-seven-mile drive into Whitehorn took even longer. With every highway mile marker she passed, Julia pressed the accelerator a little harder.
By the time she arrived at the sheriff’s office, Sheriff Judd Hensley and Reed Austin were escorting Janie out of an interview room. Janie gave a glad little cry when she saw Julia, and rushed across the reception area with her arms outstretched.
Julia hugged her, then kept one arm around Janie’s waist as they turned and faced the sheriff with a united front.
“I’m sorry we had to bother you, Ms. Carson,” Sheriff Hensley said. “May I arrange a ride home for you?”
Janie faced him with icy dignity. “No, thank you.” She shot a scowl at Reed. “My friend is here now.”
“Fine. Thanks for your time.” Hensley started to turn away.
“Wait a minute,” Janie said. “You asked me a lot of questions. Now I want to ask you one.”
Hensley about-faced and put his hands on his waist. “What is it you want to know?”
“Do I need to get myself a lawyer?”
“That’s up to you,” he said. “As of right now, I’m not planning to charge you with anything, but I don’t want you to leave town. If you see or hear from Dale, I still want to hear from you.”
“That’s not much of an answer,” Janie said.
“It’s the best I can do for the time being.” Hensley sent a pointed glance at Reed, then looked back at Janie. “He went to bat for you, Ms. Carson. Without his character reference, you’d be in trouble, I can tell you that for sure.”
The sheriff left. Janie pulled away from Julia and tugged a black cardigan on over her pink uniform. Reed walked closer to her, his eyes troubled.
“Janie, I’m just doing my job,” he said with such sincerity, Julia felt sorry for him. “I never wanted to hurt you.”
“Well, you did. I don’t understand how you could think for one blessed second that my brother would ever be an arsonist.”
“We have an eyewitness,” Reed said.
The door to another room opened, but neither Janie or Reed so much as glanced in that direction. Julia groaned silently when she spotted J. D. Cade and Sterling McCallum, a special investigator with the sheriff’s department, walking into the reception area. Uh-oh, Janie was not going to be happy to see these guys together.
If Julia remembered the gossip right, McCallum’s adopted baby daughter, Jennifer, was the illegitimate daughter of the late Jeremiah Kincaid. Since the only other known living offspring of Jeremiah’s had refused his share of the estate, little Jennifer owned the Kincaid Ranch now. McCallum was in charge of running it for her, which he did with the help of his foreman, Rand Harding. If McCallum was buddy-buddy with J. D. Cade, prospects looked even worse for Dale Carson.
“Some eyewitness,” Janie scoffed. “The bad things didn’t start happening at the Kincaid Ranch until J. D. Cade showed up. It was probably him all along and now he’s trying to cover his tracks by blaming Dale.”
“Not quite accurate, Janie. Several incidents occurred before J.D.’s arrival. We’ve questioned him, however, about other events the same as we did with everyone else at the ranch. Including your brother. J.D. had an ironclad alibi for all of the incidents,” McCallum said. “Your brother didn’t.”
Janie looked away from Reed, stiffening when she saw the other men. Julia took her hand and squeezed it while McCallum and J.D. approached. J.D. studied Janie, his normally cold blue eyes softened with what could only be compassion.
“For your sake, I almost wish it was me, Janie,” J.D. said. “I don’t know why Dale set that fire, but he did, and I think you need to ask yourself a couple of questions. If Dale was innocent, why did he run away? And are you still going to believe he’s innocent if he never comes back?”
Her eyes filling with tears, Janie glared at each of the three men in turn, then whirled and rushed out of the building without another word. Already hurrying after Janie, Julia saw Reed wince and felt sorry for him all over again. She knew from experience how tough it was to be caught between someone you loved and something that was really important to you.
Janie was unusually subdued while Julia drove her home. Once they entered her apartment, Janie looked around the small, dingy living room and uttered a sound that was half-bitter laugh and half sob. Angrily shaking her head, she paced in front of her battered sofa.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” she said. “I mean, look at this place, will you? I’m working my fanny off, and this is still the best I can do?”
“You’ve had a bad shock,” Julia said. “Why don’t you sit down and rest?”
Janie paced on as if Julia hadn’t spoken. “I didn’t always live this way. Our ranch wasn’t as big as the almighty Kincaids’, but it wasn’t one of those junked-up, scroungy-looking rat holes you see, either. It was a nice place. A real nice place.”
“I’m sure it was,” Julia said.
“I know Dale’s been unhappy ever since Dad lost it all and we had to move to town,” Janie continued. “But he wouldn’t burn down a barn. He loves horses, you know? And he wouldn’t do anything to hurt an animal. I just know he wouldn’t.”
Since few, if any, ranch horses were kept in barns unless they were sick, Julia didn’t see how Janie’s argument made much sense. She refrained from saying so, however. Janie needed to blow off steam right now, and she needed someone to listen. She ranted and paced and cried, then ranted some more.
Julia made tea Janie couldn’t drink and sandwiches Janie couldn’t eat, but it was all she could do to show her friend how much she
cared about her. Julia had liked Dale well enough the few times she’d seen him, but right now she despised him for what he was putting his sister through. Despite Janie’s protests, Julia suspected J. D. Cade had been telling the truth about catching Dale in the act of setting the fire.
The question was, where would Dale go to hide? Janie obviously didn’t have a clue, or she wouldn’t be so frightened for him. The dumb jerk.
By the time Janie finally ran out of energy for pacing, crying and ranting, it was nearly eleven. She thanked Julia for coming to town on her behalf. Julia promised to call her and left, hoping against hope that Sam wouldn’t be waiting for her when she got back to the reservation. She was simply too mentally and emotionally drained to cope with him again tonight.
Sam glanced at his watch, swore and rubbed the back of his neck, then glanced at his watch again. “Dammit, where is she?”
He smacked the steering wheel of his pickup with the heel of his hand, then hit it again. The road from Whitehorn to Laughing Horse was a skinny, two-lane nightmare in the daytime. At night it was worse, and he hated to think about any woman driving it alone, much less in an older vehicle like Julia’s.
If he wasn’t afraid of missing her, he would drive into town to make sure she hadn’t had car trouble. He’d tried to call Janie Carson’s place and find out if Julia was still there, but Janie had an unlisted number. Surely Julia wouldn’t stay in town all night when she had to teach in the morning.
He hadn’t handled her at all well tonight. Too bad. She hadn’t handled him very well, either. Every time he turned around, she’d rather be somewhere other than where she should be or where he wanted her to be.
Okay, so that was unreasonable and chauvinistic—even he knew that. Unfortunately, knowing it didn’t always stop him from feeling it or acting upon those feelings. To hell with political correctness. He was right this time, and just once in his life, he wanted to come first with somebody.
At last a pair of headlights came around the corner by the tribal police station and slowed to make a U-turn at Julia’s house. Julia parked her little car in front of his pickup and climbed out. Sam got out of his truck and felt a twinge of guilt when she backed away from him, shaking her head. But it would take more than a twinge to deter him at this point. A whole lot more.
“I don’t want to talk to you right now,” she said.
He set off after her, catching up with her halfway to the front porch. “If I wait for you to be ready to talk, I’ll be dead from old age before we even get started.”
She hesitated, then looked up at him. The porch light illuminated enough to reveal a pale, drawn look to her face and dark half moons under her eyes. He’d never seen this…fragility in her before and it scared him. When they reached the steps, he grasped her right arm before she could climb them.
“Dammit, will you wait?”
“Not now, Sam. I’m tired.”
“I can see that. In fact, you look exhausted.”
“Gee, thanks a lot. That makes me feel so much better.”
“I didn’t mean you look bad.” Sam reached around and grasped her left arm, turning her to face him. “But you can’t take on everybody else’s problems, especially if you’re pregnant. It’s not good for you or the baby for you to get so worn-out.”
“I never said I was pregnant.”
“Well, you are. Aren’t you?”
She glanced up at the stars, then down at her feet, then off to his left, and for a moment, he feared she would lie to him. Finally, she met his gaze and nodded.
“I think so,” she whispered. “I haven’t taken the test again yet, but I’m…pretty sure.”
Happiness flooded into him like a mountain creek spilling over its banks from the spring runoff. A baby. She was going to have his baby. He’d suspected as much for weeks, but he still wanted to laugh and whoop and yell his lungs out. He wanted to pick her up and spin her around and kiss her until— Suddenly he realized he’d never seen anyone look more miserable than Julia did.
The thought angered him. This should be a happy moment for her, too. It could be if only she would let it. Or was she already planning to leave him behind the way her mother had left Dan? Taking the keys from her hand, he escorted her up the steps, unlocked the front door and followed her inside.
She shot him a withering look, then sighed and headed for the kitchen. Sam trailed after her. When he found her filling a teakettle, he took it away and nudged her toward a chair.
“Sit down before you fall down. I’ll make you some tea.”
Surprisingly, Julia obeyed him without a verbal protest. She rubbed her temples as if she had a headache, which only fueled Sam’s anger. What did she think she was doing, charging around late at night, endangering her career and possibly getting herself mixed up in that weird mess at the Kincaid Ranch, when she was carrying his baby? The woman needed a keeper.
When the tea was ready, he carried it across the room and set it in front of her, then walked around the table and sat down on the opposite side where he could see her face more clearly. He waited until she’d taken a couple of fortifying sips, bracing his forearms on the table and lacing his fingers together.
“I want you to take the pregnancy test in the morning,” he said. “We both need to know for sure.”
She nodded, but didn’t say anything.
“If it’s positive, I want you to make an appointment with Kane Hunter or Lori Bains for prenatal care. They’re the best in Whitehorn, and they’ll take good of you and the baby. I’ll pay your medical bills.”
Her eyebrows rose and her cheeks flushed. “I’ll pay my own share. You can pay half.”
“I’ll also call Judge Kate Randall and we’ll get married as soon as she can fit a wedding into her schedule.”
Julia reared back in her chair and the flush on her cheeks flared a vivid red. “No, we won’t. Don’t be ridiculous.”
He thumped his chest with his index finger. “I’m not the one who’s acting ridiculous. I know you’re madder than hell at me and I’m not too happy with you, either, but this isn’t about us. We’ve probably made a huge mistake to get involved with each other, but we need to set our differences aside here and think about the baby.”
“I am thinking about the baby.” She banged her fist on the table hard enough to make her mug jump. “That’s why I won’t marry you.”
“Oh, right. I suppose you think you can raise a baby all by yourself? Well, don’t forget Maheo creates kids with two parents for a reason. They need fathers as much as they do mothers, and I will be the very best father I can.”
“I’m not questioning your ability to be a good father,” she said. “I think you’ll be a very good father, but this is my baby, and when you think about this more carefully—”
“He’s not just your baby, he’s ours,” Sam shouted. “If I can be a good father to one baby, I can be a good father to any baby. What the hell difference does it make if you’re the mother?”
“It makes a big difference!”
“How do you figure that?”
“You’ve got this big family plan in your head, remember? You want everything to be all nice and neat in black or white.” Uttering a bitter laugh, she shrugged one shoulder. “Well, I guess in your case, it’s red or white. But you know, some of us don’t come in such neat little packages.”
“Come on. You know me better than that. I don’t understand how you could honestly believe—”
“That’s right, you don’t understand me at all,” she said.
“Well, explain it to me, will you?”
“All right. I’ll try.” Wrapping both hands around her mug as if she were clutching a lifeline, she closed her eyes for an endless moment, then looked up at him again, sighed and began talking in a low, rigidly controlled voice that sent a ripple of alarm up Sam’s spine.
“I’m half-white and half-Cheyenne. From the time I was old enough to understand anything about my racial heritage, my mother constantly wanted me t
o deny the Indian half of myself, but I could never do that.”
“Of course you couldn’t,” Sam said. “She never should have expected that—”
She glared at him and held up one hand, palm out. “Please, don’t interrupt. This is hard to spit out all at once.”
Sam gave her a stiff nod. “All right.”
“I can’t marry you because you constantly want me to deny the white half of myself, and I can’t do that, either.”
No matter what, he couldn’t just let that one go by. “I didn’t ask you to do that.”
“What do you call having a tantrum every time I want to go off the reservation or spend time with my white friends? And don’t even think about trying to deny that. You want me to immerse myself in your world, but you’ll hardly even step into the world I’m most comfortable in unless it’s for business.”
“Well, if you’d ever experienced the discrimination and racism some of the rest of us have—”
“You think I haven’t experienced racism? Ha! I get twice as much as you do, because I get it from both sides. No matter where I go, or what I do somebody doesn’t like a part of me.”
“It can’t be that bad,” he said.
She ignored his weak protest. “I put up with the constant pressure from my mom until she died because, difficult as she was, I loved her. But I can’t live that way anymore. I’m a package deal now. You can’t just take the half of me you like. It’s all or nothing.”
“Don’t you think you’re being just a little melodramatic?”
“No. I need to be loved for my whole self, and my baby will be exactly the same way.”
“What you’re really telling me is that your mother didn’t love you.”
“Sure she did. In her own way she loved me a lot. But she also saw me as her worst mistake, and I can’t begin to tell you how much it hurts to admit that.”
Maybe she couldn’t tell him, but the agony in her eyes could. Sam’s heart ached for her, but he knew she would reject any attempt on his part to comfort her. “I wouldn’t treat you that way.”