Daddy's Little Cowgirl

by Charlotte Maclay

  He grunted noncommittally.

  “Don’t put me on a pedestal, Reed. I’ve made as many mistakes as the next person.” She needed to let him know she had human frailties, too. That once she’d been bad and had paid a desperate price.

  “You look good on a pedestal. You’ve had a hard day. Get some sleep.”

  “Not before you hear the truth about me.” She told him how she’d gone off with the town bad boy when she’d been seventeen. They’d lived high on the hog for a few weeks, until Jerry’s money had run out and she’d become a nag about him getting a job. When he’d simply left her in that dingy San Diego motel, she’d had no choice but to call her parents to come get her.

  As she told Reed about the baby she’d lost, tears crept from her eyes to land on his chest, but on the inside the ache seemed to ease. No one except her parents had ever heard this story. Until now.

  Until Reed.

  She lay there waiting for his reaction. “You still awake?” she asked.

  He cleared his throat as though he’d been moved by her story. “Yeah, I’m awake.” Gently he slid his fingers through her hair. “You were a kid, Ann. You can’t keep beating yourself up for what happened so long ago.”

  “I should have known better.”

  Levering himself up on one elbow, he caressed her cheek with his fingertips. “That idiot hurt you, sweetheart. If I could get my hands on him right now I’d make him pay. But I can’t do that, not after so much time. And you’re so damn softhearted, you probably wouldn’t let me anyway.”

  “Probably not,” she whispered. His gentleness, his compassion made more tears well in her eyes.

  “And I understand better now why Bets is so important to you. God, I’m sorry about your baby. You didn’t deserve that.”

  “I always felt…” Her voice caught. “I’d been so stupid.”

  “We’ve all done stupid things, me included. More than I’d care to admit. But what you did wasn’t the end of the world. You survived. And you’re the strongest, most courageous, most loving woman I know.”

  His praise was a balm to her conscience, and she basked in his words like the sun had come out after years of darkness.

  “I care about you, sweet sugar. More than you’ll ever know, I care.”

  He showed her just how much by loving her again. And in telling Reed of her past, Ann knew she had cleansed herself more thoroughly than soap and water had managed in the past thirteen years. She loved Reed even more for not believing her one lapse in behavior had doomed her to a life beyond redemption.

  Slowly, she felt the pain of the past—while not forgotten—ease away as he loved her. For that, she would always be grateful to Reed no matter what happened between them.

  Just before she drifted off to sleep, she whispered, “I love you, Reed.” Given the steady rhythm of his breathing, she doubted her heard her.

  REED WAS DEAD ASLEEP when Bets woke him with her hungry cries at 3 a.m.

  “I’ll get her,” Ann mumbled, though Reed doubted she was actually awake. “My…baby.”

  “Sleep, sugar. My turn.”

  As he eased himself out of bed, untangling his legs from Ann’s, she moaned softly, rolling to the spot he had just vacated almost as if she didn’t want him to leave. He stood a moment at the bedside looking at her in the pale light. Her hair spilled like moonbeams across the pillow; her slightly open mouth invited a kiss, as did the bare arm she’d stretched out in search of him. He’d like nothing better than to wake her with kisses.

  But duty called, he reminded himself as he responded to Bets’s increasingly insistent cries.

  He hadn’t intended to become responsible for Ann, any more than he had for Betsy and her boyfriend Tommy. Reed wasn’t the kind of man people relied on. Until a few months ago, he’d been a rolling stone. He couldn’t help but think his new image of daddy and husband was all a sham. Somebody would catch on that he was a fraud.

  Then he’d lose it all.

  He’d be back to being a loner with a mutt for a partner and a tired old horse who had barely escaped a trip to the glue factory. The prospect was not a happy one.

  But the way his life had gone, he’d better brace himself for that eventuality. It wasn’t smart to care too much. It didn’t matter that Ann had twice blurted out that she loved him. He didn’t dare believe that. If he did, it would hurt too much when she left him.

  He lifted Bets to his shoulder and went in search of her bottle. She nuzzled against his throat. His muscles worked, but he had trouble swallowing the lump that had formed.

  He probably shouldn’t have made love to Ann the second time tonight. But doing without her, not making love to her, had been the hardest thing he’d ever done in his life. Tonight he’d weakened because she’d needed him. Now she’d damn well be a hard habit to break. Just about as hard as if the adoption people decided he’d never have a chance to hold Bets again.

  YOUNGSTERS WERE scurrying down the hallway and the first bell had already sounded by the time Ann got to her classroom the next morning. To her surprise, the door stood open.

  “Ms. Forrester. Ms. Forrester,” the principal called, hurrying in her direction.

  “Mrs. Drummond,” she quietly corrected as she noted a woman standing behind her desk sorting through lesson plans.

  “I’m glad I caught you before you got to class.” Breathing hard, Mr. Dunlap came to a halt beside Ann.

  “The second bell’s about to ring. I’m a little late and I need to—”

  “I’m truly sorry, Ms. For—, ah, Mrs. Drummond, but I’ve taken the liberty of employing a substitute for your classes today.”

  She gaped at him. “What on earth for?” Not that she couldn’t use a day off after the stress of her arrest yesterday but the children depended on her to be there. No matter how difficult her personal problems, she had no intention of failing her students.

  “I thought, under the circumstances, you’d understand—”

  “What circumstances?”

  “Your arrest, of course.” His cheeks colored with a blush. “The whole town’s atwitter about it.”

  “I can imagine,” she said with a grimace. “But what does that have to do with hiring a substitute?”

  “Well, really, Ms. For—Mrs. Drummond, we can’t expose our children to criminals, now can we?”

  “What are you talking about? I’m not a criminal, and you know it. In addition to the fact that people are supposed to be innocent until proven—”

  “The superintendent called first thing this morning. The school board is distressed, as you can well imagine.” He ran his fingers around a shirt collar that was obviously too tight.

  “I’m distressed, too, Mr. Dunlap.” And getting angrier by the minute. “But I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “Nonetheless, in order to protect the children from any undue influence, we feel it’s in their best interests that a long—term substitute be employed.”

  “What are you saying? Last week I was Teacher of the Year, for God’s sake. Nothing has happened that changes my ability to teach!”

  “Please lower your voice, Ms. Forrester,” he said in hushed tones, glancing at late arriving students.

  “I’m Mrs. Drummond! And I’ll talk as loud as I want. You can’t fire me. It’s unconscionable and probably against the law. I’ll go right to the union.”

  “Dear me.” He fumbled nervously, adjusting his tie, and the color on his cheeks deepened to scarlet. “The superintendent had hoped you’d understand that as soon as this unfortunate matter is, ah, resolved, we would reinstate you. At full benefits and salary, of course. But meanwhile, the parents, you see…and the board.” He shrugged helplessly.

  Ann fumed, but it wasn’t going to do her any good. The decision had already been made by the powers on high. She could sue, of course. But by

  the time anything was settled, school would be out for the summer.

  Meanwhile, her good name—her reputationwould be totally ruined. Which w
as the only reason Reed had married her.

  All she could do was discover as quickly as possible who was falsely accusing her, and why, and who the real culprit was.

  Her career, her marriage and her chance to be Betina’s mother were all hanging in the balance. Not to mention her ability to make payments on the second mortgage she’d just taken out on her house.

  THAT NIGHT, after Reed made love to her, Ann had trouble falling asleep. It wasn’t that he hadn’t done a superb job of satisfying her physically. He had, for which she was ever so grateful. But she was too on edge to relax. Her mind reeled at all that had happened to her in the past few weeks.

  She slipped out of bed without waking Reed and went to Betina’s room. The lamb mobile moved slightly above the crib as she pulled up a chair. When she stroked the baby’s hand, feeling the softness of her skin, Betina’s fingers curled around hers, holding on tight.

  “I love you,” Ann whispered, leaning her head against the crib slats. “I love your daddy, too. He doesn’t believe that yet, but I’m trying, my little lamb. I want us to be a family. I’m going to fight for us, baby.” She set her heart firmly, stubbornly, against any other outcome. “A real family.”

  Chapter Ten

  Marvin Hutch’s law offices were as plush as Ann had anticipated, with thick carpeting, original oil paintings on the walls and a view of the surrounding hills from the third—floor windows. She shuddered to think how many head of cattle Reed had had to sell in order to pay for a few hours of the attorney’s time.

  She’d been home for two days, waiting for her appointment with the attorney, and was impatient for a resolution to her problem. But having a chance to be a full—time mom to Betina had been a reward of sorts for the stress she’d been experiencing. She’d played with the baby every minute she’d been awake, fascinated by each coo and gurgle, and not getting a thing done around the house. Even during Betina’s naps, Ann had watched her sleep. With each passing moment, she’d dreamed and hoped for the future.

  She pictured being with Bets when she took her first steps and seeing her eyes light up on Christmas morning after Santa had arrived, taking her to school on the first day of kindergarten.

  The attorney cleared his throat. Reality intruded, and Ann had to set those fanciful images aside.

  Marvin tented his fingers beneath his chin. He sat behind his large mahogany desk, the surface bare except for a discreet photo of his family, a thin file folder, a yellow notepad and a pen. Ann and Reed sat in matching leather chairs opposite him.

  “The total amount of money involved is not large,” Marvin said. “There are two checks in question for a total of less than fifty dollars. When the penalty of twenty—five dollars per bad check is included, only a hundred dollars is in question. My recommendation is that you pay Mr. Ulrich his money.”

  “But that would be an admission of guilt,” Ann protested.

  “Generally, if restitution is made, the charges are dropped.”

  “I don’t want them dropped that way. I’m innocent.”

  Reed covered her hand. “Easy, sugar. We need to listen to the man.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Drummond, I understand that is your position—”

  “It’s the truth. I never wrote those checks. You can look at my check register, if you’d like.”

  “The presence of your fingerprint is a bit troubling, however.”

  “Troubling? It’s insane. Besides, Johnny wasn’t even sure it was a match yet. It was smeared, for God’s sake.” Reed might be trying to calm her, but Ann was in no mood for calm at all. Every time she thought about being locked up in that miserable cell, she got furious all over again.

  Reed asked, “How did the guy get fingerprints at all? You’d think after a check has been handled through the whole bank deposit business, you’d never be able to identify anybody’s prints.”

  “Apparently Mr. Ulrich experiences a fair number of bad checks at his convenience store. He has taken to having the customer place his or her thumbprint on the back of the check with a special ink.”

  “If I had been the one to write the checks, he could have let me know they’d bounced. I certainly would have made them good. But I didn’t write them.”

  Marvin flipped open the file folder and withdrew two sheets of paper. “These are photocopies of the checks. In both cases, the signature is of a person named Jodie Sutherland. Have you ever been known by that name, Mrs. Drummond?”

  “Of course not. I’ve never even heard of such a person.” She studied the checks. As the police chief had mentioned, the handwriting was amazingly similar to hers. But it wasn’t hers, damn it! “When is all of this supposed to have happened? If it was during school hours, I have a perfect alibi. Even Fuentes would have to believe I couldn’t be in two places at once.”

  “I believe Mr. Ulrich mentioned something about early evening, though I would have to confirm that. Would you also have an alibi for that time of day?”

  “It depends on what day, for heaven’s sake. I live alone. Sometimes I work late at school.” Her chin quivered with anger and frustration. Why wouldn’t anyone believe her—except Reed? “There’s an address here for the woman who wrote the check. Has anyone tried to find—”

  “As I understand it from the San Luis Obispo police, a woman by that name did live at that address with her son for a short period. She no longer resides there and left no forwarding address.”

  “Well, I certainly don’t have a son, so that woman can’t be me.”

  Reed stretched out his legs, crossing his ankles. Though he’d put on his newer jeans that morning, his boots were anything but fancy. “Sounds like a case of mistaken identity to me.”

  “Maybe the problem is that I have a look—alike,” Ann said thoughtfully. “Marcy McCullough—she has the classroom next to mine—said something about seeing me here in town one Saturday when I’d been at home.” Ann didn’t mention that had been day when Reed had proposed their unusual marital arrangement. “Come to think of it, Dora said something of the same thing once—seeing me here when I’d been in del Oro the whole day.”

  “Were it not for the thumbprint, I’d quite agree that the merchant has simply identified someone who resembles you,” the attorney said.

  “Well, then, the print is the problem. It’s got to be a mistake or a fraud,” Ann insisted.

  “Or your identical twin is the culprit,” Marvin suggested mildly. “Twins can have very similar though not identical prints. Actually, some siblings do as well.”

  She almost laughed at that, but the whole situation was so serious she couldn’t find much humor in it. “Not likely, Mr. Hutch. I’m an only child.”

  “Yes, well, it would have made for an interesting defense, at any rate. There have been some precedents set—” Frowning a little, he tapped his finger to his lips. “Were you, by chance, adopted, Mrs. Drummond?”

  “I think you’re barking up the wrong tree, Mr. Hutch.”

  “Are you sure your folks would have told you if you’d been adopted?” Reed asked.

  “People don’t keep that a secret these days,” she said. “It’s nonsense to think—”

  “Adoptions were handled a little differently thirty years ago than they are today,” Marvin stated. “Far more of the placements are handled by private attorneys than formerly, and most adoptions are open, with the birth mother actually choosing who will adopt her baby.”

  Frustration forced Ann to her feet. “We’re not getting anywhere with this conversation. The problem is a mix—up in the fingerprints. Maybe the ones I have on file have been switched with someone else’s. I don’t know. But it seems unlikely I have some identical twin floating around that I’ve never heard of.”

  Marvin stood, too, as did Reed.

  “I’ll pursue other avenues, of course,” Marvin said. “But indulge an old man’s whims, if you would. Ask your parents if there is any possibility of a twin. Or even a mix—up at birth. Such a scenario would certainly explain our little myster
y, wouldn’t it?”

  Reed placed his hat on his head and took Ann’s hand. “We’ll ask her mother,” he said.

  Ann thought it would be a waste of time but she couldn’t very well argue. The sooner Mr. Hutch was convinced she was an only child born to Eleanor and Richard Forrester the sooner he’d get on with exploring the real reason she’d been charged with passing bad checks.

  IT WAS LUNCHTIME when they left the attorney’s office. Instead of heading home they stopped at a sandwich shop on the town’s main street Reed found them a corner table and went to order at the counter.

  The place was filled with college students from the nearby university, most of them carrying backpacks and all of them looking well scrubbed. In his Stetson and jeans, Reed didn’t fit into the crowd but they all moved aside for him. In addition to being taller and broader than most of the students, there was an air of self—assurance about him, a selfconfidence that said “Don’t mess with me.”

  None of these youngsters was about to challenge him for a spot at the counter. Particularly when his lips were tugged into such a grim line and his jaw held so tautly.

  Fretfully, Ann turned the gold band on her finger. He must be worried sick about keeping his ranch and Bets. So far, instead of helping him, Ann had done nothing but bring him trouble. She’d never meant for that to happen. What she’d wanted was to show Reed about love. Her love. And he’d never once commented on the words she had spoken in such haste. It was as if he hadn’t heard them. Or worse, that he was determined to reject both her and the deep feelings that filled her every waking moment—when she wasn’t going crazy over this arrest mix—up.

  He returned to the table with a ham—and—cheese sandwich on rye for her and a pastrami on a roll for himself, plus fries and soft drinks. She pulled several napkins from the dispenser and gave him a couple.

  “Maybe I ought to just cover the bad checks and make all of this go away,” she said.