by Karen Young
Painfully, Buck finished the climb, thinking his mother hadn’t called Pearce yet. Or if she had, maybe his campaign was more important to him than the thought of Buck temporarily moving in on his territory at Belle Pointe. He took a seat on the porch swing and propped his cane against the wall. “Television ads are expensive,” he said. “Isn’t it a little early to be laying out that kind of money with the primary still so far away?”
“Right, but thanks to your wife’s poison pen, I’ve got to do damage control. Which means you owe me. Besides, it’s never too early for publicity, provided it’s the right kind.” Pearce stood up, slapping his thighs. “So, how about you showing up tomorrow morning around…oh, 9:30? We’re filming at Belle Pointe. They get started early with the setting-up and whatnot, but no point in you hanging around while they shoot the house and grounds, or the stuff with Claire.”
“Actually, I just left Belle Pointe, Pearce. Have you heard from Ma?”
He glanced at the cell phone clipped to his belt. “She’s tried to call a couple of times, but I was tied up with these folks. I haven’t picked up her messages yet. Why? What’s up?”
“With Will retiring and you campaigning, she’s in a bind. She asked me to fill in for this growing season.”
“No shit? I guess you told her to go take a flying leap.”
“No, I told her I’d do it.”
His jaw dropped. “You’re kidding.”
“No. Her argument was that I’m here for the duration, I know cotton farming, she needs help and I’m a Whitaker.”
“Shit!” Pearce wheeled about and began to pace. “Since when has she needed help? The woman can run Belle Pointe and the Pentagon at the same time. You don’t want to pay any attention to her, Buck. You know how much time it takes to do what she’s asking? You’re up at daylight, you’re up to your ass for ten, twelve hours. You’ve got crap going with the field hands. Trying to manage them is a full-time job in itself. You won’t have any time left over to campaign. You can’t do it, man.”
“I can with the help of Oscar Pittman. I’m rehiring him as assistant manager.”
Pearce stopped cold. “The hell you say!”
“Yeah, after spending most of his life farming cotton at Belle Pointe, I figure he’s more than qualified for the job. I’ve already talked to him.” Buck pushed the swing into gentle motion with one foot. “I found him at Wal-Mart working as a greeter. Did you know that?”
“I don’t give a shit if he’s working at Neiman Marcus! I fired him from Belle Pointe and I don’t want his black ass back there. He’s trouble. He’s an agitator, always bellyaching about wages.”
“He’s the best equipment operator in the Mississippi Delta and Belle Pointe owes him after paying him peanuts for the past thirty-odd years. I gave him a raise and made it a condition of my taking the job. Ma agreed. It’s a done deal, Pearce.”
He got a long, hard stare from Pearce. “Who the hell do you think you are? You have ignored Belle Pointe and the family for fifteen years. Now you think being a big baseball star you can just waltz in and take over?”
“No. I think Ma gave me the job and I get to do it the way I want.” It was a direct challenge and issuing it gave Buck more than a little pleasure.
“I guess you forgot who’s in charge here, brother.” Pearce stabbed a thumb at his own chest. “Nothing happens in Tallulah or at Belle Pointe if I don’t say it does. And no fuckin’ way I’m going for this!”
“I didn’t get the feeling from Ma that she needed your approval,” Buck said mildly.
“She for goddamn sure does. You just take care of that knee so you can get the hell back to St. Louis and the sooner the better. And take your wife back with you! Meanwhile, folks who know how to farm cotton can take care of the situation at Belle Pointe.”
“Well, since you feel that way, you won’t be too disappointed if I pass on appearing in your TV ad.”
Pearce sputtered an oath and glared angrily. But when Buck merely stared him down, he turned and stalked off the porch, flung himself into his car and started it up with a roar. Buck watched him ram the Lexus into gear and spew gravel for a good twenty yards as he took off. When he realized he was smiling, he felt a little sheepish. Getting the best of Pearce for once might be juvenile, but it was past time for big brother Pearce to learn that the days when he could manipulate Buck were long gone.
Thirteen
Anne walked slowly between metal shelves of the Spectator’s archives studying labels on ancient cardboard boxes. She paused, suddenly spotting the year of Buck’s high school graduation high up beyond her reach. She went to get a rickety ladder she’d noticed earlier.
A minute later, she was balanced on the topmost rung of the ladder. Upon opening the box, she found no microfiche, only old issues of the Spectator. She hadn’t yet figured out why there was microfiche for some years and not for others. “1986 must have been a good year,” she muttered, struggling with the weight of the box. Now the problem was how to get down without a mishap.
She had almost decided to give it up when she heard footsteps on the stairs. “Dad, is that you? Could you give me a hand with this box, please?”
With both hands occupied, she didn’t turn to look at Franklin, but when strong fingers gripped her waist, she knew they didn’t belong to her father.
“Leave the box,” Buck told her. “I’ll get it.”
In a heartbeat, he was lifting her, letting her slide the length of his torso slowly. A part of her welcomed the rush of heat that was ever ready between them, but when she felt the brush of his lips on her neck, she resisted. “What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you.” Reaching above her, he lifted the box and turned with it in his hands. “I found your office empty and guessed this is where you’d be.” He shook his head looking at the dusty shelves. “Although it beats me why. Where do you want this?”
She noticed his cane propped on the shelf. “You aren’t supposed to put any weight on that knee.”
“So tell me where to get rid of this box and I won’t.”
“On that table over there.” She headed for the space she’d cleared and waited while he set the box on it. “Careful that the bottom doesn’t give way. Some of the boxes are overloaded. I spilled 1969 all over the floor a few minutes ago when the bottom split.” He was frowning when she glanced up. “What?”
“You aren’t supposed to be lifting anything either.”
“I wouldn’t get anything done if I kept running upstairs for help.”
“What’s to get done? Your real job is upstairs. Which reminds me. How’s it going?”
“Well, Dad hasn’t fired me yet. Even though a few subscribers may have suggested it. I seem to have hit a nerve with my twin profiles of Pearce and Jack Breedlove.”
He looked alert. “Folks coming down on you?”
She smiled. “A few. Depending on their political persuasions.”
“If anybody crosses a line, let me know.”
She dusted off the top of the box. “I can handle it, Buck.”
He glanced at the date on the label. “Why 1986?”
“Why not?” she replied, unwilling to let him know he had anything to do with her choice. With the flaps open, she lifted out several old newspapers.
“Take my advice and go to the sports section,” he said, wagging his eyebrows.
“If you’re suggesting I might find your name mentioned,” she said, “here it is and it’s not in the sports section. You’re on the front page.” She held up an issue with the headline, TIGERS WIN. WHITAKER SHINES.
Buck shrugged, managing to look modest. “What can I say?”
She had to laugh. “Surely there was something more important in the town news-wise than a victory for a high school baseball team. This is dated April thirteenth, so it was too early in the season for a playoff game.”
He gave her a look of mock incredulity. “We’re talking a defeat of Spring Valley, population ten thousand and some, woman.
They were an awesome team. Beating them was an event.”
“But news, it wasn’t,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Speaking of boredom, how’s your physical therapy going?”
“Good. Ty’s a real pro. Best choice I could’ve made.” He took a cursory look at another of the old papers, tossed it aside and picked up his cane. Moving restlessly to the nearest shelf, he used the hook of the cane to pull out a box, seemingly at random, but with just a brief glance inside, shoved it back in place. Dusting his hands, he drifted back to the table where Anne was sorting the newspapers by date. “His daddy was working as a greeter at Wal-Mart until a couple days ago.”
She tucked a newspaper into its proper date sequence and reached for another. “Didn’t his father work at Belle Pointe? I seem to remember that you and Ty played together there when you were boys?”
“Yeah.”
She leaned against the table to look at him. “Something on your mind?”
“Oscar was working at Wal-Mart because Pearce fired him,” Buck said, beginning to pace. “We never had a piece of equipment at Belle Pointe that Oscar couldn’t operate. And some of those big combines were monster rigs. When Ty told me what happened, I couldn’t believe it.”
“Was he fired for good cause?”
“No. Hell, no. The men’s hours were mounting up in overtime, so Pearce decided to pay them for a straight work week only. Oscar didn’t think that was fair and said so. Pearce fired him as the instigator of the uprising to bring the others in line.”
Anne managed to conceal her satisfaction over Buck’s newfound interest in Belle Pointe affairs. First, outrage over the Whitakers foreclosing on a mortgage to grab a thousand acres of land from Beatrice’s family and now this. “I take it you didn’t know,” she said carefully.
“If I’d known, I would have hired a lawyer for Oscar and paid him out of my own pocket to sue the shit out of the family.” He halted to look at her. “That man has been a loyal, hardworking employee at Belle Pointe for I don’t know how many years. He knows more about equipment than any three men Pearce might have replaced him with. Firing him was mean and underhanded.”
Anne thought it was interesting that he reacted so fiercely on discovering his family’s unjust practices. Since Belle Pointe was a family corporation, he had to have some notification of transactions. Had his need for emotional distance blinded him to what was going on?
“I’m trying to figure out why you didn’t know about it,” she said. “Your mother kept you from an active role at Belle Pointe, but you were still part of the family corporation. You must have gotten financial statements periodically.”
“I got them,” he said, shoving at a box on the floor with his foot. “But what I’m discovering now wouldn’t show on a financial statement. Which is no excuse. I don’t even read the damn things. Haven’t for years. And I don’t cash the checks.”
She stared at him. “You tear them up?”
He was pacing again, eyes on the floor. “I endorse them over to a charity.”
“Oh.” There had been some pretty lean years after they were married and all along he’d been rejecting income that was rightly his? Did his resentment—or hurt—run that deep? “So, are you going to do anything?”
He poked at a dusty box with his cane. “I’ve done it. I took your advice.”
She waved dust away from her nose. “My advice?”
“You said I should do what my mother wants. I decided the only way I could make any changes is by being right there. So after I left you at lunch today, I went to Belle Pointe and offered my services…with a few conditions. My mother hated it, but she’s pretty much over a barrel.” As if he couldn’t help himself, he grinned. “I got the job.”
Anne found herself smiling back. “Don’t tell me, let me guess. You agreed contingent upon rehiring Mr. Pittman.”
“No contingency. Whether I’m there or not, Oscar’s back…replacing Wilcox. I took care of it a couple days ago.”
“What about Harvey Jones’s thousand acres?”
“As soon as I can find an honest lawyer around here, I’m drawing up a legal document reassigning title to Beatrice.”
She blinked in surprise. “Can you do that?”
“I’ll do it or pay the mortgage amount out of my own pocket. The family corporation won’t be out a cent.”
“Only a thousand acres,” she said dryly. “But it’s good of you, Buck.”
He moved a little closer and her smile faded at the look on his face. She felt a rush of heat. She knew that look. When he put his hands on her waist, her heartbeat went into double time. She felt the strength of him through the layers of her clothes, warm, solid, sure, but at the same time, gentle. And blatantly male. There had always been something about Buck that spoke to all that was feminine in her.
Knowing he wanted to kiss her, she felt a tingle of anticipation. She stared at the hollow of his throat. If she let him, it would be a turning point. It would breach a barrier she’d put up to help her through this dark time. She had spent weeks working through her grief and loss, picking through the ashes of their broken relationship in hopes of finding something worth saving. She raised her eyes. “Buck…”
He pulled her close, wrapping her in his arms. With his face buried in her hair, he simply held her tight. It seemed like forever since she’d been surrounded by Buck’s warmth and tough-tender masculinity.
“You feel so good, baby,” he said, letting his lips move on the skin below her ear. When he bit her earlobe gently, she shivered with the delicious sensation. Encouraged, his breath turned heavy and hot as he kissed a trail down her throat to a spot where her pulse raced. He would leave a mark there, she thought dizzily, but instead of pushing him away, she tipped her head to the side and allowed it. It felt good and it had been so long…
Now his hands were beneath her shirt, tugging it up, seeking the softness of her breasts. Desire and need bloomed inside her as he nuzzled her wisp of a bra aside, abrading and arousing the sensitive flesh with day-old beard. And then he found her nipple, closing on it, his mouth wet and warm and wild. He was like a starving man. And Anne responded with a soft cry, clinging to him, wishing for the sheer power of raw lust to ease the pain that never seemed to subside. The pain of losing her baby.
“Come back to the lodge with me, Anne,” he said, breathing the words against one breast. He was hard and fully aroused, locked against the softness between her legs. “I’ve missed you. I need you.”
Anne struggled to resist the pull of her attraction to him. She had missed him, too. Buck was different here in Tallulah from the person he was when caught up in the fishbowl life they lived back in St. Louis. But to go back to it, nothing would be changed. And she knew that was Buck’s plan. Baseball was his real life. He was only here because she’d forced his hand. So before going to bed with him, she needed to be sure that she could live that life again. That it would be enough.
With her hands braced on his forearms, she pushed him back. “Buck…no, I just can’t.”
He went still for a beat or two, breathing hard. Finally, he lifted his head, let her go, and with a sigh looked at her. “How can we fix what’s wrong if we aren’t together, Anne?”
“By being ‘together,’ you mean having sex, don’t you?”
He made a frustrated sound. “Why do you say that, ‘having sex’? Why can’t you call it what it is? We’d be making love, Anne. I still love you.”
“Whatever you call it, it won’t fix what’s wrong.”
He drew in a long breath. “Then how about this. We’ll make love…and we won’t use any protection.”
She felt a pang of anguish. Closed her eyes. He was offering what for years she’d prayed for, longed for, needed. When she could talk, she looked into his eyes. “In other words, now you agree to having a baby, but only to persuade me to come back,” she said quietly.
“No!” He swung away from her, one hand slashing through the air. “It wouldn’t be like that.”
“Then tell me how it would be, Buck.”
He stood with his back to her, taking time to be clear with his words. “It was never that I didn’t want to be a father,” he said. “We had something good, just you and me together. You’ve seen my family now. You’ve seen how they are. Don’t you understand yet why I didn’t want to trade what we had for that?”
“I suppose it’s useless to argue that in having children, we would never have become like that. You’re hung up thinking it’s some kind of gene thing. Inevitable.”
He turned back to face her. “I just think it’s wise not to take the chance.”
She picked up an old newspaper without really looking at it. “You make my point for me, Buck. Since that’s so opposite from the way I think, I believe it’s better to figure out whether we can be happy together and still be at odds about this,” she said simply.
She expected a burst of temper. She knew from experience that when he was sexually frustrated, Buck was testy as a wounded bear. The Buck who’d rejected their baby and driven them recklessly into a ravine a few weeks ago would have gone on a tear. But he surprised her. Standing propped on his cane, with his bad knee cocked at an angle, he didn’t appear furious. Instead, he seemed confounded. And very disappointed.
“I guess I jumped the gun there, huh?” he asked wryly.
“Offering to forget protection and chance another pregnancy if I’ll stay with you at the lodge? Yeah, I guess you did.”
“I guess I sleep alone again tonight, huh?”
She smiled, feeling for the first time a fragile hope that they might be able to work out their differences. With her eyes on the newspaper, she said, “I guess so…unless you can find a warm puppy.”
He reached out and gently tugged a strand of her hair. “Smart-ass.”
Still smiling, she shoved him back and resumed thumbing through the newspapers. Now in an orderly sequence, she scanned the headlines as she went along and picked up the conversation where they left off. “Since you’ve decided to make changes in the way Belle Pointe is being run, what makes you think Pearce and your mother will just roll over and let you?” she asked.