“Hey, Dad,” CJ said, coming into the darkened room after pulling off his boots and coat. He plopped onto the sofa. “You missed a great roundup.” His hair was matted to his head and dirt smeared his shirt and chin, but his face glowed. “I even got to practice roping—worked as a header for Miss Noble.”
“Good job, Son.” Cole ached with the words. How he longed to see CJ rope, see him take the reins of the ranch. “Your mom says Dutch has been teaching you some new techniques.”
CJ stood up, demonstrating his words. “And Miss Noble’s brother was there. He told me to angle my rope down and to work on my rhythm. I’m getting better.”
Cole felt as if he’d been sat upon by a bull. “That’s great, CJ,” he managed without sounding like all the air had been sucked out of his lungs. “Nick’s got a great technique. He and I won first place in the high school rodeo finals our senior year.”
“He told me. That’s who won the other buckle, right?” He pointed to the framed silver buckle hanging over the sofa.
Cole nodded. He’d never had the hankering to wear it. Besides, Nick wore his, and everyone who mattered had already seen Cole’s. It only felt like more competition.
“I was the heeler—Nick was the header. We were a good team.” Once upon a time. Cole had the urge to grab CJ and pull him close, to pin him and tickle him, to hear him giggle and shout with joy and yell, “Uncle!” He wanted to stop the flow of time and hold on to everything he held dear. Cole’s voice thickened. “You’d better get your bath. I’ll check on your mother.”
“She went in the barn to look after the bums,” CJ said. He stood at the door to the hallway, sighing before he turned back to Cole. “Sorry you missed it, Dad. It was a great day.”
Cole smiled at him. “Next year.”
CJ disappeared into the bathroom, and moments later Cole heard the shower running. He eased his leg to the floor, wincing as the blood ran to his toes. It ached ferociously tonight—probably because he’d been doing exactly the opposite of the doctor’s orders. But he wasn’t going to sit by and let the ranch fall to ruin along with his body. He aimed to leave this world with at least most of his to-do list accomplished.
Including making sure Maggy and CJ had a future, even if it took watching the woman he loved in the arms of another man.
He pushed to his feet, stifling a groan, and retrieved his crutches. Jay, their new hired man, had left long ago—Cole figured he’d stopped by the roundup. The front door groaned as Cole closed it behind him.
The rising perfect moon lit the shaggy courtyard of their little ranch—the metal barn, their small two-bedroom rambler. He remembered when they’d ordered the modular home from Sheridan. At the time, he thought he’d built Maggy a castle. Now his thoughts went to Saul Lovell’s groomed lawn, the beautiful two-story he’d recently built for his wife. Saul had two grown sons, whom he had hoped would take over the ranching life. But when they’d left for the city, he’d sold off his cattle, throwing his efforts into his law practice. Cole heard recently that he’d also set up some coal-bed methane mines, trying to pump every last resource from his land. Cole wondered if CJ would have followed him into ranch life or been lured away by city dreams.
Light puddled from under the barn doors. Cole hobbled out on his crutches and eased inside.
Although he didn’t see her, he could hear Maggy’s gut-wrenching sobs. Anger welled within him, the old fury of watching Nick destroy lives returning.
He’d sent his beautiful wife out to the wolf, and he felt sick.
The same kind of sick he’d felt ten years ago, tasting the tinny flavor of his own blood on his lips as he’d lain in the dirt, watching Nick drive away. Maggy had sobbed then also. Deep, wrenching sobs that had torn his heart out as he got to his feet. She’d come into his embrace easily, and he held her, watching Bishop shake his head as he climbed into his pickup to chase after Nick.
In that moment, at least for Cole, Maggy had become his—the one with whom she shared her dreams, her fears, her burdens. Although he knew that somehow Nick would always claim a piece of her, she bore Cole’s name and a son.
He should have held on to her tonight too. Should have begged her to stay with him. But how could he, knowing that she might finally have the chance to have everything she always wanted?
He stood in the open doorway, searching the sky. I can’t do this, Lord. I can’t let her go.
But what if he’d never really had her at all? What if she was mourning her lost dreams? He’d never been able to shake the feeling that somehow he’d gotten her by default. That in the end he claimed only second place in her heart.
Cole muscled through his grief to the truth. He had to make this easier for her, for CJ. And if Nick wanted her back, well, he could give her a life and a future. Especially if Bishop’s will didn’t take.
Cole shuffled over to the stall and found Maggy curled in the hay, a bum’s head in her lap, holding a bottle of milk in one hand, tears streaming down her face. Escaping wisps of hair framed her face, made her appear breakable.
“Oh, Mags, what happened?” Nick’s name was on his lips, but he couldn’t voice his questions. Does he have your heart? Or do I?
Startled, she looked up at Cole.
He leaned the crutches on the stall and crawled over to her as she put down the bottle and wiped her face.
She forced a smile, one he’d come to expect. “Nothing. I’m . . . I’m just worried about this little bum here.”
Liar. But that’s what their marriage had become. Polite lies to keep each other away from the pain, the disappointment. He laid a hand on the bum’s head. “He’s breathing.”
“He won’t drink. I’m afraid we’re losing him.”
Cole checked the calf’s eyes, felt his chest.
“He’s so little,” Maggy continued, her voice breaking. “It’s like he’s fading right before my eyes. I don’t know how to help him.” She urged the bottle into the calf’s mouth. The long tongue curled around it, made a feeble effort, and gave up. “I don’t know what I did wrong.”
Cole took the bottle from her hand, pushed her hair back from her face. It was wet on the ends from her tears. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Sometimes things just go bad.”
Maggy stared at him, her eyes puffy, her cheeks red. “I refuse to believe that. I know we can save this little guy. He’s my responsibility.”
“No, he’s not, Mags.” He touched her chin. “God’s in charge of this bum, and He’s going to do what’s right.”
“I’m not letting him die.”
“You might not have a choice. You’re always trying to take care of everyone, trying to make sure no one gets hurt. It’s time to let it go, honey.”
“I can’t let go.” She reached up and laced her fingers into his. She swallowed. “I can’t do this alone, Cole.”
He ran the back of his finger down her cheek, then moved in beside her and put his arm around her. “Yes, you can, Maggy. You always could. From the first moment, I knew you didn’t need me. You’re not alone. God is with you, every breath you take. He’s given you a way with animals and a strength you don’t even know you have.”
She closed her eyes and snuggled into his embrace. She put a hand on his chest, and he felt her take a long, tremulous breath. “You’re wrong. I’ve always needed you. And you’ve always been there.” She wrapped her arm around him. She smelled of campfire smoke and the faintest essence of the conditioner she put in her hair. He drank it in, emotion in his throat.
“I love you, Cole,” she whispered.
Cole pressed a kiss on her head and pulled her tight against him. Soon her breaths became deeper, and he felt her sleep. “I love you too, Mags.”
Nick followed the sound of the harmonica drifting over the horde of black cattle grazing in the stunted cheatgrass, knowing he’d find Dutch on the other side of the melodies. How many times had he wandered out here after roundup to sit beside the trail boss, sometimes in silence, other times hoping to rec
eive praise for his hard day’s work?
Dutch sat on his bedroll, serenading the cows. His actions hadn’t changed from Nick’s youth.
Nick sat beside him, listening to the music, watching the movement of the cattle. They seemed restless, still working out the stress of the day. Tomorrow they’d settle down in the field, enjoying the wide space and ample water supply.
Dutch finished his song and tucked the harmonica into his shirt pocket. He said nothing as he leaned back on his saddle, pulling his hat low over his face.
“Do you think they’ll ever forgive me?” Nick’s voice sounded thin, weak.
Dutch breathed deeply beside him, as if mulling over his words.
“I didn’t expect Maggy to be so angry. I knew that I hurt her by leaving her like I did, but it wasn’t as if we were married. Besides, she found Cole pretty quick.” He cast a look at Dutch, who made no reaction outside his deep breathing.
“Cole probably deserves her anyway. He always had a thing for her. I thought they were just good friends, but I guess I was wrong.” Nick sighed, pulled off his hat, ran his hand over the rim.
“I really did love her, you know. But sometimes you can love someone and not be ready for it. I think that’s how it was with Maggy. She was good and decent, and I took that for granted. I didn’t treat her right; I know that.” He thought of the night he left, the broken look on Maggy’s face when he’d accused her of cheating. No, Maggy would have never cheated on him. “I didn’t deserve her.”
Dutch grunted beside him, shifted his hat.
“The thing is, Piper reminds me of Maggy in a way. I realize that she isn’t a cowgirl by any stretch of the imagination.” He chuckled, thinking of Piper’s reaction to the Rocky Mountain oysters. But she’d held her own with the ribs and biscuits today. Impressed him even. And the way she’d looked tonight sitting on that boulder—her hair like a halo around her face, her blue eyes bright as she studied the heavens, her look of delight at the shooting star—well, he’d never seen anything quite so beautiful in his life. Sitting beside the warmth of the campfire with her, he’d felt something come to life inside him, an old hope that he’d long ago buried. “But she’s patient and she listens. And the fact that she’s out here, trying new things even though she’s so clearly in over her head makes me . . . like her, I guess. She’s strong in a different way than Maggy, but still I see it in her.”
Nick picked up a rock, tossed it in his hand. “I haven’t . . . uh . . . dated anyone since Maggy. There were a few women along the way that I thought might . . . take her place. But it wasn’t so much about her but me. I wasn’t ready to let someone that close. Thought if they got a good look at the real Nick Noble, it would run ’em off.” He thought of the way Piper had listened to his story without flinching.
Dutch’s chest rose and fell in deep slumberous breaths.
“I guess you don’t know what I’m talking about—it’s not like you’ve had a string of ladies or anything. But I thought it would be easier. I mean, how do you go about letting them close without scaring them off with your secrets?”
Come to think of it, he’d told Piper his worst, and she hadn’t run, had she?
Maybe he didn’t deserve her either. But hopefully he wasn’t the same man he’d been ten years ago. And Piper seemed to like the ranch. He loved to watch her drink in the beauty, enjoyed even her most probing questions. Maybe after a summer together . . .
“I used to be part of this land, Dutch. Now I don’t even know if I belong here. Stef says that God brought me back, but I haven’t really been on speaking terms with Him for a while. . . . I guess I just wonder if I deserve to come back. That maybe I shouldn’t have the right to fix things if I ever could.” Nick pressed the rock into the ground, then lay back beside Dutch and drew his hat over his face.
“‘He has removed our sins as far from us as the east is from the west.’” Dutch’s voice was barely a murmur. “Out here, you should have a pretty good view of just how wide that is, Son.”
Nick recognized the quote from his father’s favorite Scripture. Of all the Bible passages his father had memorized—and it was his favorite fence-riding pastime—Psalm 103 had been on his lips most often. Enough for Nick to commit it to memory and to hear his father’s voice in his thoughts. “The love of the Lord remains forever with those who fear him. His salvation extends to the children’s children of those who are faithful to his covenant, of those who obey his commandments!”
Nick clenched his jaw against a rise of regret. He certainly hadn’t been faithful to the covenant or obeyed any commandments.
As if reading his thoughts, Dutch spoke again, this time louder. “God finishes what He starts. And I have a feelin’ He ain’t done with you yet.”
Dutch’s words zeroed in on Nick’s open wounds and salved them. But as much as he wanted to—
A gunshot cracked the night.
Nick sat up, his chest pounding.
Beside him, Dutch was nearly to his feet.
Another shot. And in its wake the piercing wail of a woman’s scream.
CHAPTER 13
NICK RAN TOWARD CAMP and the sound of the scream while Dutch and Pete scrambled to their horses to calm the cattle.
Whoever was being attacked in camp was putting up a stellar defense judging from the screaming and the words punctuated between bursts of terror—“No! Leave me alone!”
Nick’s blood turned hot when he saw Stefanie tumble out of her tent. Thank You, God. She stood up, pale, in her stocking feet. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know!” Nick reached Piper’s tent and fumbled with the zipper. “Piper!” If someone was in there with her—Quint?—he was going to tear him limb from limb.
He wrestled the zipper open, peered into the darkness. The moon turned the interior an eerie orange, and in the darkness he saw only Piper, thrashing in her sleeping bag. “No! Get away!”
“Piper!” He climbed in and gripped her shoulders. “Piper, you’re having a nightmare!”
Her eyes flew open, and the expression on her face turned to pure horror. As if she didn’t recognize him, she jerked and screamed again. Then, to his shock, she twisted her body in the sleeping bag and managed to kick him.
He sprawled backward, tasting blood on his lip. “Piper, it’s me, Nick!”
She untangled herself from the sleeping bag in seconds and stood, banging her head on the tent, staring at him with wild eyes. With her hair plastered to her face, her breaths coming fast on top of each other, and her hands balled, Nick recognized the residue of a nightmare. A bad one.
Nick put his hands up in surrender. “Remember me? Nick? The guy on horseback? I cook sometimes?”
She continued to stare at him, but he finally saw recognition flash through her eyes. Crumpling to her knees, she put her hands over her face and began to sob.
“I see you have everything under control in here,” Stefanie said, peering into the tent. “I’ll go check on the cattle.”
Nick climbed to his knees, feeling helpless. He held out his hands, not sure if he should touch her but rattled by her tears. When she put her hands over her head, he gave in to his protective instincts and pulled her toward him. To his surprise, she let him. He tightened his embrace, his cheek on the top of her head as her body trembled. “Shh, Piper, it was only a nightmare.”
Her breath came out in a shudder, and she shook her head as she pushed away from him. “No, it wasn’t.”
“Yeah, it was. I know because I’m the only one who’s bloody here.”
Her face reddened, tears heavy on her lashes. “Sorry.” She breathed out a tremulous breath. “And no . . . it wasn’t.”
Her expression scared him. He swallowed, not sure he wanted to hear more. “What do you mean?”
She looked away. “It’s nothing.”
“Apparently it’s not nothing because I thought the James gang was attacking you. I was ready to seriously hurt someone.”
She closed her eyes, as if to hold
back her pain. “I’ll be fine.”
“I won’t. I’ll never sleep again after hearing you scream like that. And if I remember correctly, you kung-fued me, which means that you thought I was attacking you. If it wasn’t a nightmare, then it was a memory, and I’m going to kill the person who left you with that.”
Piper turned, her mouth open, her eyes roaming over him.
Uh-oh, not the right thing to say.
Or was it? She leaned toward him, and he found his arms around her as she clung to him. She still smelled of the campfire, and he pressed his lips against her hair, gently, softly, wishing he knew how to take away this thing that made her tremble. “What is it, Piper?”
She shook her head again, but this time it felt more feeble, less vehement. “I can’t . . . you don’t . . .”
“Piper, you can trust me.”
She drew away, searching his face, his eyes, his mouth.
The look on her face made him ache right through to his soul, and he couldn’t let her go. “Piper—”
She lifted her face and kissed him, sweetly pressing her lips to his. But he felt fear in her touch.
He closed his eyes, not sure what to do, not sure why she was kissing him, but not wanting to push her away. The feeling of her swept over him, through him, and touched emotions that he’d held in check for so long that he’d nearly forgotten them. He brushed a strand of hair from her cheek, rested his hand behind her neck, and kissed her back, drinking her in.
Her kiss turned more desperate, more intense, and he matched her emotions, pulling her closer, both arms around her as if he might lose everything if he let go. She had her arms around his waist, and his hands were in her hair, and he kissed her as if he’d never kissed another woman. Tasting and needing and forgetting who he was in her embrace.
When she disentangled herself from his arms, she didn’t look at him.
Reclaiming Nick Page 17