The Cowboy

by Joan Johnston

“Whose fault is that?” Trace snarled.

  “You have no right to him. We were never married.”

  “We will be.”

  “You can’t force me to marry you.”

  “Can’t I?” He grasped her arms. “Think about it, Callie. All the power of Bitter Creek aimed at the destruction of Three Oaks.”

  “You’d never sink that low.”

  “I’d hand my father the sledge hammer.”

  He saw, from the stricken look on her face, that she believed him. “You owe me, Callie, for all the years I didn’t get to spend loving my son.”

  “I can’t give him up to you, Trace. I won’t give him up. Not even to save Three Oaks.”

  At last, something she cared about more than Three Oaks. Not him. His son. He let her go and took a step back. “Then I’ll fight you for him in court. And when I get custody—and in this part of Texas, that’s a foregone conclusion—you’ll never see him again.”

  He saw the moment she realized she was beaten. Saw the moment when she knew it was useless to fight.

  She met his gaze and said, “All right. I’ll marry you. But I want something in return.”

  “How much is it going to cost me to buy my son?” Trace asked icily.

  “I want all the inheritance taxes paid on Three Oaks. I want the title free and clear in my mother’s name.”

  “Done,” Trace said. “Now get the hell out of my sight.”

  Chapter 16

  CALLIE RUBBED HER THUMB ACROSS HER RING finger, where Trace had placed a plain gold band only yesterday. He’d insisted on being married in a church, but he hadn’t invited his family to the ceremony, or allowed her to invite hers. He’d told her to dress as though they were going to Bobbie Jo’s Café in town, and he’d driven a pickup, since taking any of his father’s luxury automobiles would have provoked questions. Then they’d driven south across the border, to a small chapel in Matamoros, Mexico.

  Callie didn’t know how Trace had arranged to have a Christian minister read their vows in the ancient Spanish mission, but she’d been grateful for the cool shadows created by the thick adobe and relished the rainbow of light through the stained glass windows. They were small comfort during such a dark moment in her life.

  As he repeated his vows, Trace had looked at her with wintry blue eyes, as remote from her as though they still lived a continent apart. And yet he had promised to love and honor and cherish her. How had he choked out the words? They had stuck in her throat.

  He had wiped her tears away with his callused thumbs before he bent to kiss her. His breath had felt warm against her cold flesh, before his lips touched hers in the barest caress. Then he’d taken a step back, clasped her hand, and led her out into the blazing heat and blinding sunlight.

  Thirty miles north of Brownsville, while they were sitting in line for a spot inspection by the Border Patrol, waiting to have the pickup sniffed for drugs by a German shepherd, Trace had announced, “You’ll need to take that ring off before we get home. I want this marriage kept secret until my son is ready to hear about it.”

  “When do you think that will be?” Callie asked, tugging the ring free and setting it in a pocket on the dash between them.

  “When he’s ready to accept me for who I am,” Trace replied. “When I’ve earned his trust.”

  Her ring finger was bare now. Callie might almost have imagined the events of the previous day. But the tension radiating from the man standing next to her at the corral was quite real.

  “I wish you hadn’t given Eli such an expensive gift for his birthday,” Callie said, as she watched her son urge the spirited quarter horse gelding from a trot to a lope in the ring. “It’s too much.”

  “Eli doesn’t seem to mind.”

  Callie made a face. “What eleven-year-old boy wouldn’t be happy to get not only a brand-new saddle but the registered quarter horse to put it on?”

  “My son deserves more than he’s had so far.”

  Callie bristled at the suggestion that Eli had led a life of deprivation. “My son hasn’t wanted for anything. He’s been loved and cherished his whole life!”

  “Not by me!” Trace shot back.

  Callie didn’t argue. There was nothing she could say. Her chin started to quiver at the mere thought of Trace taking Eli all the way to Australia.

  “Give him a little more rein,” Trace instructed Eli.

  “Can I go in the ring now?” Hannah asked from her perch atop the shiny black pony she’d received at the same time Eli had gotten his quarter horse.

  Callie noticed the question was directed at Trace, rather than to her. “Not yet,” she answered her daughter.

  “Why not?” Hannah demanded, her lips pouting.

  “It isn’t safe,” Trace replied.

  Callie noticed Hannah didn’t argue with Trace, merely accepted his word as law. But if Hannah had fallen completely under Trace’s spell, Callie felt sure the same was true of Trace in regard to Hannah. His gift to Eli was understandable. His generosity to Hannah was not. Hannah was another man’s child. Hannah was a reminder that Callie had been married to Nolan Monroe.

  But Trace didn’t seem to mind when Hannah walked in his shadow, when Hannah demanded to be picked up and hugged and kissed, when Hannah wanted Trace to tuck her in or read her a bedtime story. He had already won Hannah over. It wouldn’t be long before he had Eli’s trust. And once that happened, he would take her son and leave Texas.

  “How am I doing, Trace?” Eli called out.

  “You’re doing great. Slow him down and cool him off.”

  “When can I take Hickory for a ride in the pasture?” Eli asked, patting the sorrel’s neck.

  “How about if we both ride out and take along a picnic?” Trace suggested.

  “Can I go, too?” Hannah asked.

  “Sure. We’ll all go,” Trace said with a smile. “I’ve already asked your grandmother to pack the two of us a lunch. She can always add another couple of sandwiches. It’ll be fun.”

  Callie stared at Trace, annoyed at how quickly he’d arranged her day. “I have work to do.”

  “Fine. You stay here. I can take care of the kids.”

  Callie wasn’t about to leave Trace alone with Eli. What if he took the boy and disappeared? “I’ll rearrange my schedule,” she said.

  Trace eyed her sideways. “Whatever you say.”

  Callie fumed inside at how she’d been manipulated. But once they were on the trail, and she saw what a good time her children were having, she admitted it had been too long since they’d done anything like this. She’d been too busy since Nolan’s death to take time off with the kids just for fun. Or rather, she hadn’t aligned her priorities to put fun at the top of the list, as Trace seemed inclined to do.

  “I spy a hawk,” Eli said, pointing to the sky.

  “I spy a cow,” Hannah said pointing into the brush.

  “Cows don’t count, do they, Trace?” Eli asked.

  “I did say be on the lookout for wild animals. But that cow looks pretty wild to me,” Trace said, winking at Hannah.

  Hannah giggled.

  Eli rolled his eyes. “Sheesh. Cows.”

  “Bird!” Hannah exclaimed, as her pony flushed a grouse.

  “Hey! That’s cheating,” Eli complained. “You have to spy ’em before you scare ’em out of hiding. Does that count, Trace?”

  “Fraid so, Eli.”

  “Deer!” Eli said, as he surprised a herd of white-tailed deer. He counted aloud as each one bounded over the wire fence. “Wow! Seven! I’m gonna win for sure! What’ll I get if I have the most, Trace?”

  “My sincere admiration,” Trace replied with a grin.

  “Awww, shhh—”

  “Eli,” Callie warned.

  “Sheesh,” Eli said, changing the expletive in mid-word.

  Callie realized where they were going when they were halfway there. It was a pond she’d shown to Trace on the night they’d been searching for her parents. It was the place she’d gone
to dream about might-have-beens, while she was waiting for Eli to grow inside her womb.

  Cattails lined the far edge of the pond, and a nearby live oak provided shade so thorough that the land beneath it was nearly bare of undergrowth. The surface of the pond was perfectly smooth, except for the ripple caused by two blue-winged teals paddling toward the safety of the concealing cattails.

  Callie pulled her horse alongside Trace’s and murmured, “This was my special place. Why did you bring us here?”

  “Now it’s going to be our special place, too,” he answered. “Mine and my son’s.”

  Callie turned her face away to hide the stinging tears that threatened and let her horse fall behind the other three riders. Before Trace had learned the truth about Eli, he’d suggested that she go with him to Australia. That offer had apparently been withdrawn. Now his son was going to be all the company he wanted or needed on the journey.

  Not that Callie would, or could go with him. Her family still needed her. Even though Trace had signed a prenuptial agreement promising to pay the taxes on Three Oaks when they came due, there was no telling what other disasters might befall them. Without her there to keep the wolf from the door, Blackjack would surely find a way to take what he’d always coveted.

  But how could she allow Trace to take Eli away? Her heart would break in two. She was torn between love and duty, and couldn’t choose between them. So she simply avoided making any choice at all.

  Callie’s heart hurt. She put a fist against what was almost a physical pain in her chest, knowing it was despair that caused the ache inside her. Could she have made a different choice eleven years ago? Should she have told Trace right away he was going to be a father? Should she have reached out for love, married the son of her father’s nemesis, and hoped for the best where her family was concerned?

  Maybe she should have done that. Her sister Bay certainly hadn’t flinched at leaving her family behind to pursue her own dreams. Bay had left home and never looked back. Even now, she was at Texas A&M finishing her degree.

  But Callie wasn’t Bay. She was the eldest. She’d always put her family’s needs first. Even when it had meant sacrificing her own.

  It was what her mother had taught her to do. It was what her mother had done herself. Callie had even done her best to be happy with a man she wasn’t “in love” with, just as her mother had done. Callie realized she’d made the same choices as her mother. The same mistakes.

  You can make a different choice, Callie.

  What a tempting thought. How easy it would be to let herself fall in love with Trace all over again. How lovely to think of building a whole new life in an exotic, faraway place. She’d never had the chance to travel. She’d never had the chance to spread her wings and fly. She wanted more children, and she knew Trace did, too. From the way he’d so easily won over her children—Hannah followed him around like a puppy, and Eli seemed to crave his attention and approval—she knew he would make a wonderful father.

  Callie couldn’t understand the rebellious inclinations that kept surfacing lately. Couldn’t understand why a devotion to family that had never seemed onerous suddenly made her feel like a fly struggling in a spider’s web, certain that unless she escaped soon, she’d be devoured.

  The sound of Trace’s voice yanked her from her reverie. “Who wants to swim before lunch?”

  “I don’t have a swimsuit!” Eli lamented.

  Trace grinned. “Ever hear of skinny dipping?”

  “No skinny dipping!” Callie announced, as a provocative image of Trace swimming naked flashed through her mind.

  Trace shot her a smug grin. “Just kidding. I had your mother pack swimsuits, too.” He threw Eli his swimsuit and said, “You can go behind the tree to change.”

  Eli was off his horse in an instant and headed for the live oak.

  “Loosen the cinch on Hickory’s saddle first, son,” Trace said, calling Eli back. “And tie the reins up so he doesn’t stumble on them while he’s grazing.”

  “Sure, Trace,” Eli said, grabbing the reins and tugging the horse along as he headed behind the tree.

  “I can’t swim,” Hannah wailed.

  “I’ll help you,” Trace offered.

  “I can help her,” Callie said in a cool voice.

  “I want Trace to help me,” Hannah said. “Will you, Trace?”

  “Sure, Hannah. Whatever you want.”

  “You’ll spoil her rotten,” Callie said under her breath.

  Trace shrugged. “Little girls were made to be spoiled.”

  “Maybe in the Blackthorne household. At Three Oaks everyone has to pull his own weight.”

  “Hannah’s too young to be pulling any weight at all,” Trace snapped back. “And I won’t see her put in traces like you were, before she’s had a chance to kick up her heels.”

  Callie found herself staring at Trace’s back as he stalked away from her. The metaphor was horrifying when she thought about it. Was that how Trace saw her life? Like she was a plowhorse harnessed with a load too heavy to bear?

  Hannah got both legs on one side of the saddle, then grabbed hold of a few strips of leather streaming from a silver concha on the saddle, and let her hands slide down until her feet touched the ground. “Where’s my swimsuit?” she asked Trace.

  He handed it to her and said, “Your mom can help you get into it.”

  This time, Callie didn’t miss her cue. “Where’s my suit?” she asked. “I might as well change at the same time as Hannah.”

  Trace eyed her over his shoulder, then gestured with his chin. “Check my saddlebags.”

  “And your suit?” Callie inquired.

  He pulled his hand out from behind his back, and she saw a pair of cutoff jeans. “Right here. I’ll be with Eli.”

  Callie had to admit the cool water was refreshing. And Hannah did, finally, take two splashing strokes from Trace’s arms to her own. Then she watched as Trace and Eli roughhoused in the water. She tried to remember a time when Nolan had done such a thing. She tried to excuse the fact it had never happened with the thought that Eli had been so young when Nolan got sick.

  Eli was eight. He could swim even then. Nolan could have done this anytime.

  But he never had. Callie wondered which of the two of them had been remiss. Had Nolan been too busy working to suggest this sort of fun? Or was she the one responsible for putting work first and foremost? Responsibility before pleasure. Duty before personal happiness.

  There was something wrong with a life that didn’t include laughter. Something sorrowful about a life that didn’t include fun.

  Callie felt Hannah being swept from her arms an instant before she felt Eli’s palms on her shoulders, forcing her underwater. She barely had time to gasp a breath of air before she was submerged. When she came up, her hair streaming around her face and water dripping off her nose and eyelashes, Eli and Hannah were laughing hysterically.

  “We got you, Mom!” Eli said, chortling.

  Hannah clapped her hands and parroted, “We got you, Mom!”

  Callie joined their laughter, as she shoved her sopping hair out of her face. “I’m hungry. Who else would like to eat?”

  She was nearly trampled by Eli’s race to the edge of the pond. She followed Trace as he stepped out of the water and set Hannah down on solid ground.

  “Change first,” Callie shouted at Eli.

  “Aw, Mom!” Eli shouted back.

  “Change first,” Trace agreed.

  “Sheesh!” Eli muttered from behind the tree. “Grown-ups!”

  “Sheesh!” Hannah said, hands on her hips as she turned to stare up at them. “Grown-ups!”

  Callie and Trace exchanged a look and broke into guffaws of laughter. A moment later, Callie’s expression sobered.

  This was what had been missing from her life. Laughter. Joy. Delight. She wanted back all those years with Nolan. She wished she’d tried harder to make him happy. To bring him joy. To give her children laughter.

  T
race had offered her a glimpse of what she’d lost when she’d turned her back on him. What she saw was so wonderful, it left her aching. And wishing. And even, God help her, hoping. What if Trace could forgive her? What if they could be a family? What if they could live happily ever after?

  Trace spread a blanket for them to sit on, while Callie sorted through the picnic fare her mother had packed.

  “Hard-boiled eggs, carrot sticks, pickles,” she announced as she unpacked each item.

  “I want a pickle,” Eli said, reaching out a hand.

  As Trace handed him a pickle, Hannah said, “I want a pickle, too.”

  “You don’t like pickles,” Callie informed her.

  “I might,” Hannah said, keeping her hand outstretched.

  Callie shrugged and said to Trace. “Give it to her.”

  Hannah took one lick and scrunched up her face. “Ick. Here, Mom,” she said, holding it out to Callie. “You eat it.”

  “No thanks,” Callie said quickly. “See if Trace wants it.”

  “I think we should give it to your mother,” Trace said, taking it from Hannah and holding it out to Callie. “As I recall, she likes to suck off all the pickle juice before she eats it.”

  Callie couldn’t look at the pickle. Or at Trace, for that matter.

  “Hey, Mom, why’s your face so red?” Eli asked.

  Callie shot one mortified look at Trace, grabbed the pickle and took a large bite, chewing furiously and nearly choking when she swallowed too fast.

  “That’s not how I remember you eating a pickle,” Trace said in a husky voice.

  Callie met his eyes for an instant and saw the passion lurking there, just as it had when she’d teased him by sucking salaciously on a pickle in the college cafeteria a lifetime ago. Unfortunately, he’d had a test right after lunch and couldn’t skip class. When they’d finally gotten together in her room, the sex had been frenzied and wild.

  “Maybe we should have our sandwiches now,” Callie said quickly, dropping the pickle on a paper plate and reaching into the saddlebag that contained the rest of the food.

  “This tastes great,” Eli said as he wolfed his down.

  “Slow down, or you’ll get a stomachache,” Callie warned.