Palomino

by Danielle Steel

  “Right now?” Norman nodded. “Can he do that?”

  “Yes, he can reverse his decision based on what has just occurred. Timmie won't have to go through all the business of becoming a ward of the court on an interim basis. He's yours, Sam!” He turned and looked at the small child in the wheelchair, holding Samantha's hand. “You've got your son.” It had been two weeks since Samantha had seen him wheeled, screaming, from the courtroom, and now he was hers. She reached out and pulled him onto her knees and held him, sobbing openly now and laughing and kissing him and stroking his hair, and slowly he began to understand and he held her and kissed her and then in a quiet moment he touched her face with his small grimy hand and said, “I love you, Mom.” They were words Samantha had ached to hear all her life.

  The judge arrived half an hour later with the file he had collected from his office on the way, signed several papers, had Sam sign them, the matron witness them; Josh cried, Norm cried, she cried, the judge grinned, and Timmie waved his teddy bear at the judge with a broad grin as they wheeled into the elevator. “So long!” he shouted, and when the doors closed, the judge was laughing and crying too.

  “And then I'm going to ride Daisy … and play with my train and my fire engine and—”

  “Take a bath,” Sam filled in for him with a grin on the drive back. My God, what a gift they had just given her. She was laughing and giggling almost hysterically, she was so happy, and for the first time since the accident that had killed Jeff and broken Mary Jo's arms and legs, Sam saw Josh laugh. They had already told Timmie about Jeff when he had asked for him, and he had cried for a minute and then nodded.

  “Just like Mom.…” But he said nothing else about her, and Sam didn't want to press him. She knew from the little that Norm had told her that it had been rough. But now that part of Timmie's life was over, and whatever he remembered in years to come would be counterbalanced by the love she would lavish on him in the time ahead.

  She told him about the new children coming in and the garden they were going to plant in the spring, and then she looked at him with a big grin. “And guess what you're going to do in a few weeks.”

  “What?” He looked excited, despite the dark circles under his eyes.

  “You're going to school.”

  “Why?” He looked less than pleased at the thought.

  “I just decided.”

  “But I didn't before.” It was a whine just like that of any child and she and Josh exchanged a smile.

  “That's because before you were special, now you're regular.”

  “Can't I be special again?” He looked at her hopefully and she laughed and tucked him under her arm. They were sitting three abreast in the front seat of the big station wagon, with Timmie in the middle.

  “You'll always be special, sweetheart. But now we can just live a regular old life. We don't have to worry about you going away, or being taken away, or anything. You can just go to school like the rest of the kids.”

  “But I want to stay home with you.”

  “You can for a while, but then you've got to go to school. Don't you want to get smart like me and Josh?” She was giggling again, and suddenly Timmie was laughing too, and he groaned at what she had just said.

  “You're not smart… you're just my mom now!”

  “Thanks a lot!” But it was obvious that the love affair between them was far from over. That afternoon they baked cookies and visited the rest of the kids, and she read him a story before he went to sleep in the room next to hers, and before she had finished it, he was snoring softly. She stayed like that for a long time, just watching him sleep, and touching his hair, and thanking God for bringing him back to her.

  It was two weeks later, when he had finally started school and the new arrivals had been admitted and had started to settle down, before Sam got to spend almost a full day in her office. She had worked her way through three stacks of mail, much of it from doctors, and some of it from the East, which was new for her. So far they had only had referrals from western cities.

  It was then, as she was putting down the last letter, that she saw him. She happened to glance out her window, and there he was, as he always had been, as tall and as lovely, with his raven-black hair and his broad shoulders and his sharply etched face, and his cowboy hat and his boots … only now she saw that there was a little more salt mixed in with the pepper at his temples, but if anything, it improved his looks, and she caught her breath as she watched him stop and talk to some of the kids. As she watched him she remembered how well he had played Santa. But suddenly she shrank from her office window, pulled down the shade, and called her secretary to her. Her face was flushed and she looked terribly nervous, and she glanced around the room as though she might hide. “Find Josh!” was all she told her. And five minutes later he was in the room. By then, outwardly, she had regained her composure. “Josh, I just saw Tate Jordan.”

  “Where?” He looked startled. “Are you sure?” Hell, it had been three years, he must have changed, maybe she had dreamed it.

  “I'm sure. He was out in the big yard, talking to some of the kids. I want you to go find him, find out what he wants, and get rid of him. If he wants to see me, tell him I'm not here.”

  “Do you think that's fair?” Josh looked at her reproachfully. “His boy just died on the ranch, Sam. It ain't been five weeks, and he's buried out there.” He waved toward the hills. “Don't we at least owe him some time here?”

  Sam closed her eyes for an instant and then opened them to look at her old friend. “All right, you're right. Show him Jeff's grave and then please, Josh, get him out of here. There's nothing to see. We sent him all of Jeff's things. There's no reason for him to be here.”

  “Maybe he wants to see you, Sam.”

  “I don't want to see him.” And then as she saw the look in his eyes she grew fierce and turned her wheelchair to face him. “And don't tell me about fair, dammit. It wasn't fair to walk out on me three years ago. That wasn't fair. Now I don't owe him a damn thing.”

  Josh stopped in the doorway for a moment with a look of regret on his face. “The one you owe, Sam, is yourself.” She wanted to tell him to go to hell, but she didn't. She sat in her office and waited, she didn't even know for what, but she just sat there, thinking. She wanted him to leave the ranch, to go away again, to leave her alone. It was her life now, he had no right to come back and haunt her. Except that she knew that there was some truth in what Josh had just said. He had a right to see where his son was buried.

  Josh came back half an hour later. “I let him ride Sundance to go out and see the boy.”

  “Good. Has he left the barn?” Josh nodded. “Then I'll go home. When you see Timmie, tell him I'm there.” But when he got back, he had a riding lesson with some of his friends, and she sat in her house alone, wondering if Tate had left yet. It was so strange knowing that he was so nearby, that if she had wanted to she could have gone out and touched him, or seen him, or talked to him, and she wasn't even sure of what she was afraid of. Her own feelings? What he might say? Maybe she wouldn't feel anything at all if she had a chance to spend some time with him, maybe what had left the wound open for so long was the fact that he had left her without any real explanation and no chance to fight back. It had been like sudden death, with no reprisal, and now, three years later, he was back and there was nothing left to say. Or at least nothing that seemed worth saying, nothing that she would let herself say.

  It was almost dark when Josh knocked on her front door and she cautiously opened it. “He's gone, Sam.”

  “Thanks.” They looked at each other for a long moment and he nodded.

  “He's a nice man, Sam. We talked for a long time. He's real torn up about the boy. He said he'd stop by and see Mary Jo tonight at the hospital and tell her he's sorry. Sam …” His eyes questioned her and she shook her head. She knew what he was going to say, but instinctively she held up a hand.

  “No.” And then, softly, “Does he know … about me? Did he
say anything?” Josh shook his head.

  “I don't think so. He didn't say anything. He asked where you were, and I said you were gone for the day. I think he understood, Sam. You don't walk out on a woman and then come back three years later. He just said to thank you. He was real touched by where we buried Jeff. He said he wanted to leave it just like that. You know,” he sighed softly and looked out at the hills, “we talked about a lot of things… about life, about people … Caroline and Bill King.… Life sure does change in a few years, don't it?” Josh looked sad tonight, it had done something to him to see his old friend. Sam didn't ask but he volunteered the rest of what he knew. “When he left here, he went up to Montana. Worked on a ranch. Saved his money, and then took out a loan and bought a small spread and turned rancher. I teased him about it. He said he was doing it to have something to leave the boy. He did real good, and now Jeff is gone. He says he just sold his place last week.”

  “What's he going to do now?” Sam looked suddenly nervous. What if he stayed around there, or got a job at the Bar Three?

  “He's going back up there tomorrow.” Josh had seen the fear in her eyes. And then, “I'll see him tonight, Sam, if you should change your mind.”

  “I won't.”

  Timmie came home then and she thanked Josh again and went in to make dinner. For some reason she didn't want to eat in the main hall, and Timmie had been with the other kids all day. But she was nervous and jumpy all evening, and that night as she lay in the dark all she could think of was Tate. Was she wrong? Should she see him? What did it matter? It was too late now and she knew it, but suddenly, for the first time since she'd been back to the ranch, she wanted to go back to their old places, just to see them … the cabin he had lived in behind the orchards, the hills they had ridden, and the secret cabin. In all the time she'd been back on the ranch, over a year now, she had never gone back to the cabin or the little lake, until they buried Jeff nearby. But you couldn't see the c'abin. from the graves. She had promised herself for months that one day she would go out there, just to retrieve Caroline's things. She really ought to take the place apart, but she didn't have the heart to, or even to see it. All she would think of there would be Tate … Tate … Tate … his name rang in her ears all night long.

  In the morning she was exhausted and shaken, and Timmie asked her if she felt sick when they went to breakfast in the main hall. She was relieved when he went off to school with the others and she had time to herself. She wheeled slowly over to see Black Beauty. Occasionally she took the stallion out for a ride, but she hadn't ridden him in a long time, and she kept him now more out of sentiment than anything else. He was too high-strung for most of the others to ride, the ranch hands didn't really like him, he wasn't Josh's kind of horse, and when she taught or led the children, she really needed a quieter horse like Pretty Girl. But now and then, when she was alone, she still rode him. He was a sensitive animal and now he seemed to gear himself down to accommodate her. Even after Gray Devil in Colorado, she wasn't afraid of him.

  And now, as she looked at him, she knew what she had to do. She asked one of the men to saddle him up, and a few minutes later he lifted her up into the saddle. Sam walked the huge horse slowly out into the yard and turned toward the hills with a pensive expression. Maybe now was the time when she finally had to face it, when she had to go back and see it and know that it could no longer touch her, because none of it belonged to her anymore. Tate Jordan had loved a woman she hadn't been for years now, and never would be again. And as she began to canter slowly over the hills she knew that, and she looked at the sky and wondered if she would ever love a man again. Maybe if she faced it once and for all and let his memory go, she could let herself care for someone, maybe someone on the ranch, or a doctor she met through the children, or a lawyer like Norman, or … But how pale they all looked next to Tate. As she thought of him in the yard only the day before, she smiled softly, and then piece by piece she remembered the time they had shared, the times they had run over these hills, the days they had worked side by side, the respect they'd had for each other, the nights she had spent in his arms … And then, as the full impact of what she had felt for him began to hit her, she came over the last hill, rounded the trees, and there she saw it, the little lake and the cabin where she had come with him. She didn't want to go any closer. It was as though, for her, it were haunted. It belonged to another lifetime, to different people, but she saw it and saluted it, and then slowly she wheeled the powerful black stallion and cantered over the little knoll where they had laid Jeff to rest. She stood there for a long moment and smiled at the people they had left there, a man and a woman and a boy, all of them people she had cared about a great deal. But suddenly, as she stood there, with tears running slowly down her face, she felt Black Beauty sidestep and buck gently, he whinnied and she looked around and saw him, sitting tall and proud in the saddle as always, Tate Jordan, astride a new Appaloosa she had just bought. He had come to say a last good-bye to his son. For a long moment he said nothing to her, and there were tears on his cheeks too, but his eyes bored into hers and she felt her breath catch as she watched him, not sure whether to say something or simply ride away. Black Beauty was dancing gracefully around, and as she reined him in she nodded at Tate.

  “Hello, Tate.”

  “I wanted to see you yesterday, to thank you.” There was something infinitely gentle in his face. Gentle and yet so powerful. He would have been frightening, had he not looked so kind. But his frame was so large, his shoulders so broad, his eyes so deep set. He looked as though he could have picked up Samantha and her stallion and set them down gently somewhere else.

  “You don't have to thank me. We loved him.” Her eyes were like blue velvet as she looked into his.

  “He was a good boy.” He shook his head slowly then. “He did a real foolish thing. I saw Mary Jo last night.” And then he smiled. “My, she's gotten big.”

  Sam laughed softly. “It's been three years.”

  He nodded, and then he looked at her, with a question in her eyes, and slowly he let the Appaloosa approach. “Sam?” It was the first time he had said her name and she tried to feel nothing as he did. “Will you ride with me for a few minutes?” She knew that he wanted to see the cabin, but she couldn't bear the thought of returning there with him. She had to fight with everything she had to keep her distance, not to reach out to this gentle giant who suddenly stood facing her across a chasm of three years. But each time she wanted to say something to him, to say his name, to reach out while she had the chance, she looked down at her legs, tightly strapped to the saddle, and knew what she had to do. Besides, he had left her three years ago, for his own reasons. It was better left as it had been.

  “I should get back, Tate. I have a lot to do.” She also didn't want to give him time to figure out why there was a strap around her legs. But he hadn't seemed to notice. He was much too intent on her face.

  “It's quite a place you put together. What made you do it?”

  “I told you in my letter, it was in Caroline's will.”

  “But why you?” Then he didn't know. She felt a sweep of relief.

  “Why not?”

  “You never went back to New York?” That seemed to shock him. “I thought you would.” Did you? Was that why you left, Tate? So I would go back to where you thought I belonged?

  “I did. For a while.” She sighed softly in the early morning. “I came back after she died.” She looked out at the hills as she spoke. “I still miss her.”

  His voice was soft beside her. “So do I.” And then, “Can we ride? Just a few minutes. I won't be back here for a long time.” He looked at her, almost pleading, and then feeling her heart pull inside her, she nodded and let him lead the way. When they rounded the knoll, they stopped as they came to the little lake. “Do you want to get down for a minute, Sam?”

  “No.” She shook her head firmly.

  “I don't mean go into the cabin. I wouldn't do that.” And then he looked at
her with a question. “Are their things still there?”

  “I haven't touched them.”

  He nodded. “I'd like to talk to you for a minute, Sam.” But this time she shook her head. “There's a lot I never said.” His eyes pleaded but hers were gentle.

  “You don't have to say it, Tate. It's a long time ago. It doesn't matter anymore.”

  “Maybe not to you, Sam. But it does to me. I won't bore you with a long speech about it. I just want you to know one thing. I was wrong.” She looked at him, suddenly startled.

  “What do you mean?”

  “To leave you.” He sighed softly. “The funny thing is that I even had a falling-out with Jeff about it. Well, not about you, about running from the ranch. He said that all my life I ran away from the important things, from the things that mattered. He said I could have been a foreman, or owned a ranch if I wanted to. He and I drifted for about six months, and then we gave each other hell. I went up to Montana then and bought that little ranch.” He smiled then. “I made a damn good investment, too, and all with a loan. I did it to show Jeff he was wrong, and now”—he shrugged—“it really doesn't matter anymore. Except for what I learned from it. I learned that it doesn't mean a damn if you're a rancher or a ranch hand or a man or a woman, if you live right and you love well and you do good, that's all that matters. Those two”—he nodded toward the cabin—“look at them, in the end they're buried together side by side, because they loved each other, and no one cares whether or not they were married or whether Bill King kept it a secret all his life that he loved her. What a damn waste of time!” He looked annoyed at himself, and she smiled at him and held out her hand.

  “It's all right, Tate.” Her eyes were damp but she was still smiling, and he took her hand and raised it to his lips. “Thank you for what you just said.”