SEALs of Chance Creek 01 - A SEAL's Oath

by Cora Seton

  Riley could barely breathe. Whatever was coming would hurt. She knew that.

  “It’s about Fulsom. You know that in order to raise money for this project, he’s arranged to document the entire process while we build our community. A film crew will arrive in a couple of weeks. After your guests leave,” he hastened to add.

  “Right.” Behemoth kept walking and Riley wished the horse would stop. It was as if he was carrying her to some uncertain doom. She wanted to cling to things the way they were for just a few more minutes. But that was impossible.

  “I talked to Fulsom about your plans for our Regency wedding. He said no.”

  “I… don’t understand.” But she did, only too well. Fulsom would win and she would lose—again.

  “He won’t sign over the deed to the ranch until the show is over. I don’t call the shots here.” He faltered. “Not even at the manor. The camera crew will be all over Westfield. You’ll have to put an end to your Jane Austen life for the duration of the show. Your friends, too.”

  “Boone—you promised.”

  “I know. There’s more.”

  “More?” She didn’t think she could stand it.

  “It’s about the ranch. Fulsom has to drum up an audience, and let’s face it, sustainability is pretty dry stuff. That’s why he’s forcing us to marry and film our weddings and that’s why he’s set a series of goals we have to meet in six months’ time. If we fail—”

  “You lose the ranch. I already know that.”

  “What you don’t know is that he’ll give it to John Montague, a developer who plans to knock down the manor and build seventy brand new luxury homes on the ranch.”

  “Let me down.” She had to get away from Boone. From his words. From the image of destruction he’d planted in her brain. “Boone, let me down. Now.”

  “Riley—”

  Riley jumped down from the horse, nearly stumbled, but caught herself. Behemoth sidestepped and Boone fought to control him. “Riley!”

  She took off running. Maybe it wasn’t dignified. Riley didn’t care. She had to do something, because if Westfield was gone—

  If Westfield was gone—

  Riley ran faster, desperately needing to assure herself it was still there. She’d lost her grandparents. Lost the love they’d surrounded her with. Would she lose Westfield, too?

  “Riley, if there was any other way, I’d never ask you—” Boone dismounted and followed her on foot. He touched her back and she wrenched herself away, stumbling to a stop.

  She couldn’t stand this. Why had God given her a heart when everything she loved kept getting ripped away?

  “Do you want me to give up on Base Camp? Is that what you want? Because if it’s the price of being with you, I’ll do it.”

  She heard the desperation in his voice and it cut her to the quick, but what good was his offer if it meant Fulsom would turn the ranch over even sooner to Montague?

  “It’s only temporary,” Boone went on. “As soon as the show is over, I’ll marry you again. I’ll wear whatever you want.”

  “How could you agree to his demands?” She finally found her voice again.

  “I didn’t have a choice. We won’t lose. I swear to you, Riley—I will not let him take Westfield.”

  “What else are you hiding, Boone? Tell me everything.” She’d never felt so utterly alone as she did now.

  His hesitation terrified her. “Like I said, he’s given us a set of goals.”

  “And they’re impossible, is that it? He’s stacked the deck too high against us?”

  “No.” He took her hand. “They’re difficult, but not impossible. Fulsom wants ten couples. Ten married couples.”

  She tried to pull away, but he didn’t let her go.

  “We need to build ten sustainable houses that consume a tenth of the power a normal American house does. We can do that easily, Riley. That’s right up my alley.”

  “What else?”

  “We need to produce enough food on site to last us through the winter.” He stopped. Riley scanned his face.

  “That’s it?”

  “No,” he said. “There need to be children, too. Pregnancies.”

  “Pregnancies.” Her hand slipped to her belly and Riley thought she might be sick. Was that why Boone had made love to her so eagerly that first time—without using a condom? To meet Fulsom’s conditions?

  She backed away.

  “Riley—”

  “More than one?”

  “Three.”

  “That’s insane!” And it explained Clay and Jericho and their eagerness to get to know her friends.

  Boone pursued her, Behemoth trailing behind him. “I never meant for it to be like this. At this point I’d pull out of the deal if I could, but it wouldn’t do any good. The only way I can give you Westfield for keeps is to go through with it. And I need you by my side.”

  Riley shook her head. Boone was right; Fulsom had them in a trap. He’d get publicity for his cause, all right. Relationships, marriage, sex and babies? Wasn’t that the fodder for all the popular shows on television? If he could only throw some zombies into the mix he’d probably top the charts.

  “Talk to me, Riley. Tell me we can get through this.”

  “Stay away from me.” Fulsom had taken over every aspect of her relationship with Boone—from the speed with which Boone had proposed to her, to the timing of having their first child. If she was pregnant, theirs would be one of the three pregnancies that saved Westfield from Montague.

  If she was pregnant.

  She picked up her skirts again and ran.

  “Riley!” A few moments later, the clip clop of Behemoth’s hooves told her Boone was following her. Riley didn’t slow down and she didn’t look back.

  When she finally reached Westfield, breathless and exhausted, she slipped inside the manor and went straight up to her room. She had nothing more to say to anyone. The dreams she’d cherished of life at Westfield were well and truly gone.

  Chapter Twelve

  ‡

  “THEY’RE STILL HERE,” Jericho said the next morning when he, Boone and Clay gathered around the fire for an early breakfast.

  Boone nodded. Telling Riley about Fulsom’s rules was one of the hardest things he’d done. Watching her reaction when he’d done it was even worse. “I’ll be surprised if they stay.”

  “It’s shitty Fulsom won’t change his mind.”

  “Well, he won’t, so there’s no use dwelling on it.”

  “Any new responses to our ad for other participants?” Jericho asked, obviously hoping to turn the conversation.

  “More men,” Boone said shortly. “I’ve weeded through all the ones we’ve gotten so far and have chosen some possible candidates. The first batch will arrive on Sunday. No women and no couples, though.”

  “We’ll find them.”

  “I sure as hell hope so.” Boone wasn’t counting on it at this point.

  They ate in silence for a minute. “I’ve finalized my plans for the houses,” Clay ventured.

  “I’d like to see them,” Jericho said.

  Boone tried to muster up some enthusiasm, but all he could think about was Riley. What did she think of him now? Did she hate him for not being honest with her sooner?

  Clay brought out a laptop and turned it on. Soon he pulled up a series of 3D images he’d generated.

  “Those look like… hobbit houses,” Jericho said.

  “That’s because they’re constructed on similar principles. Riley and her friends don’t want to look down on something ugly, so I thought… what if we integrate the houses into the landscape? Boone already had the idea of using passive solar gain to cut down on the need to heat or cool them. Digging them into the hillside allows us to use the principles of geothermal heat for even more efficiency. Instead of old-fashioned thatched roofs, we’ll use cutting edge green roofs and blend the buildings into the landscape even more, while offering a renewable source of insulation. The front walls will ha
ve lots of windows to let in light and warmth in winter. Any exposed walls will be stuccoed for moisture resistance and even more passive solar gain. Most of the resources needed to build them can be found right on the ranch or within a short distance, and the end result will be a village—”

  “—right out of a story book,” Boone finished for him, distracted from his worries by the images. “Clay, that’s something else.”

  “Wait’ll you see what else I’ve got for you.”

  As he showed them floor plans and interior designs, Boone could only shake his head in wonder. Clay was born to do this job. Why had he spent so much time in the Navy instead of becoming an architect?

  “We need to build one of these—fast,” he interrupted as a seed of an idea took root inside him. “These houses might lure those women right down the hill. Maybe Riley won’t mind so much—” Boone looked up when a truck turned onto the access road and trundled toward them. “Who’s that?”

  “It’s Walker,” Clay said in surprise.

  All three of them stood up and went to meet him. Boone extended his hand to his friend when Walker parked and got out of the truck. “You should have called; we would have come and gotten you.”

  “Went home first.”

  Boone wondered if he meant to his mother’s place out on the reservation, or his father’s parents’ place in town. Walker had bounced between them much of his childhood.

  “Well, I’m glad you’re here now.”

  “We were just talking about houses.” Clay showed Walker his plans. Walker nodded.

  “Looks good.”

  “We can’t start until June first, though,” Jericho reminded them. “Remember Fulsom’s empty pasture?”

  Boone’s shoulders slumped. Jericho was right, which meant he couldn’t entice Riley and her friends with the hobbit houses. He turned to Walker. “Wish I had a better welcome for you, but everything’s fucked up.”

  Walker shrugged. “What else is new?”

  RILEY HAD NEVER felt so conspicuous in her life as when she entered Thayer’s Jewelers later that day. She’d been up most of the night trying to figure out a course of action that didn’t end with her losing Boone, or her friends, or both.

  At first she’d been so furious with Boone she’d wanted to cancel their engagement, but as she’d calmed down, she’d quickly realized it was Fulsom who infuriated her. As much as she wanted to lash out at Boone for ever agreeing to any of Fulsom’s demands, she knew his commitment to Base Camp preceded his commitment to her, and if he didn’t follow through, she’d lose Westfield forever.

  Riley decided to be practical. She needed to persuade her friends to be patient for six months, win Westfield back and then create the life she wanted. She wouldn’t think about her wedding—that hurt too much. She’d set her heart on a Regency affair, but after all, it was her pledge to Boone that would matter, not the clothes they wore.

  She’d focus on Andrea’s wedding instead. She’d put on her best gown and walked the two miles to Maud and James’s house to ask for a lift into town. Maud had wholeheartedly endorsed the idea of going to see a wedding planner and recommended Mia Matheson, whose office was located within Rose’s jewelry shop. Riley had met Mia when they were both younger, but hadn’t spoken with her in years and she was pleased to find out the friendly girl had found her calling and opened her own business. She passed through the front door and spotted Rose Johnson serving a customer. Rose waved and Riley nodded to say she could wait, but it was only a moment before Mia appeared from the back of the store.

  “Rose—oh, Riley! How are you? You look so lovely in that dress. Rose told me all about your visit to the Cruz ranch. I was so sorry I didn’t get to see you.”

  Riley tried to summon a smile. “I’ve come because I need help organizing a wedding. Do you have some time?”

  “Of course! Come on in. Who’s getting married?”

  “It’s someone my friend Savannah knows.” She explained all about the Jane Austen wedding and their need to show Andrea’s guests a good time. “We’re really under the gun. Do you think you could help us? We’ve made a good start, but there’s still so much to do.”

  “Fast weddings are my specialty,” Mia said. “It’s all we seem to do in these parts.”

  Riley wondered if there was a story behind her private smile. “I’m so relieved to hear that. We’ve got a hundred guests coming and I have no idea how to find them accommodations on such short notice. We need a lot of help with decorations, too. The wedding will be Jane Austen-themed, of course.” And she meant to do it right, in case this was the only one she got to throw.

  “Of course! So the bride will arrive in a carriage?”

  “The Russells’ barouche,” she confirmed.

  “Perfect. What about catering?”

  Riley explained about Mrs. Wood. “We’ll need more help, though.”

  “Autumn Cruz for the wedding cake,” Mia said. “She can help with side dishes, too. She’s a whiz at this.”

  “Flowers? We need tons of flowers.”

  They went down the list that Riley and Savannah had built, and the longer Mia talked, the more Riley began to think it might all turn out after all.

  “I’ve got Alice Reed working on costumes for the wedding party,” Riley said, “but she’ll need help, especially since we’ll need table runners and decorations, too.”

  “That’s easy. I’ll rustle up all the women from the Cruz ranch and the Double-Bar-K. We’re like an army when we get together.”

  “Thank you. I mean it, Mia.”

  “You’re welcome!” Mia’s eyes shone. “If I’m going to be your wedding planner, I need to have a Regency gown, too. By the time you’re done every woman in town will have one, won’t they?”

  “Maybe so.” Eventually. She didn’t want to think about Fulsom’s six-month moratorium on all things Austen.

  “Don’t you worry. Pulling together in an emergency is what we do best here in Chance Creek.”

  If she could only hire a wedding planner to fix the rest of her life.

  Home again an hour later, Riley told the others she had a headache and wanted to lie down. Upstairs, she locked herself into her en suite bathroom and pulled out the pregnancy test she’d bought while she was in town. It claimed to be accurate up to five days before a missed period. Riley had decided she couldn’t wait another day to find out the truth. Her stomach was in knots and she wasn’t sure what answer she wanted as she waited the three minutes for the results. She wished she could be unreservedly happy if the test was positive, but after everything that had happened she was afraid she’d never feel secure that Boone really wanted this child. She’d begun to wish she’d never heard of Martin Fulsom.

  A minute passed, and then another, when she heard voices downstairs. Riley tried to make out who it was, but with two floors between them and several closed doors, she wasn’t sure. It wasn’t her friends, however. She distinctly heard the bass tones of at least one of the men. Her fears were confirmed a moment later when she heard heavy steps pound up the stairs. Riley panicked. The last thing she wanted was to be interrupted now.

  When someone knocked peremptorily on her bedroom door, she bit back a frustrated groan, left the bathroom, and shut its door firmly behind her. She crossed her room. “Who is it?”

  “Me. Can I come in?” Boone asked.

  “What do you want?”

  Boone opened the door before she could stop him. “Savannah said you weren’t feeling well. Is everything all right?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “I had to see you. Is this about Fulsom? I know I should have—”

  “It’s not about Fulsom.” She bit her lip. “I just want to be alone.”

  “Don’t give up on me. I know I fucked up—” Boone cupped her chin with his hands, as if he wanted to kiss her.

  Riley pulled away. “It isn’t that.”

  “Then what is it?” Boone came toward her again. Riley stepped back.

  Boone’s e
yes narrowed. “Are you hiding something?”

  “No!” How did he know to ask? Had she betrayed herself somehow? Riley panicked. She couldn’t let him come any farther into the room.

  When Boone took a step toward the bathroom, she blocked his way.

  “Riley.”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “It’s something,” he asserted grimly.

  “Boone—”

  He ducked around her, crossed the room and opened the door. When he spotted the pregnancy test stick resting on the cardboard packaging it had come in, he sucked in a breath.

  “Are you…?”

  Riley elbowed past him and snatched it up. She was the one who might be pregnant. Glancing down, she took in the minus sign and her stomach sank. “Guess not.” She passed it to Boone. She wasn’t prepared for the tears that filled her eyes.

  Boone looked at the stick for a long moment, then put it down carefully and pulled her into his arms. “I’m sorry.”

  Riley didn’t understand why she was crying, she hadn’t wanted either of them to be forced into a pregnancy, but when Boone pulled her in tight, she buried her face into his neck. A minute later she backed away. “I’m being silly.”

  “No, you’re not.” His voice was rough. “We’ll keep trying. I promise.”

  For the first time Riley looked up at him. Pain was etched clearly into the lines of his face. Had he wanted this pregnancy—for real?

  “Tell me honestly,” she demanded. “Are you sad for Base Camp?”

  He shook his head. “I’m sad for us.”

  AS SIX MEN climbed out of the airport shuttle and dropped their bags in the dirt outside the bunkhouse two days later, Boone felt another piece of the puzzle of their community fall into place. He saw them eyeing the twine outlines on the side of the hill and then turn to look at the manor sitting on top of its hill where Riley was pinning wash on the line. She’d been quiet since she’d gotten the results of her pregnancy test, but she’d remained at Westfield. Boone still wished they’d gotten a different result, but he was thankful that she’d used the opportunity to tell him she thought he might not want a child. They’d come to a deeper understanding of what they both felt and they’d decided to wait to try again until after they’d married.