by Julia London
She wasn’t thinking clearly. She was being emotional, feeling bad for Finn. That was Macy, always caught up with the downtrodden. When Wyatt had calmed down, he’d realized that she wasn’t thinking past her nose. He would have to help her make a decision. So he called her. He got her voice mail and left a message that they needed to talk.
By Tuesday evening, his fear of losing Macy was about to bring him out of his skin. He’d left three separate messages for her and hadn’t heard a word in return.
Wyatt had a very bad feeling. Again.
He drove back to town that night, arriving a little after eleven. It wasn’t easy, but he resisted the urge to drive out to Laru’s again. On the one hand, he felt like he was owed an explanation, something other than sorry, Wyatt. On the other hand, he had his pride, and he wasn’t going to sniff around Macy like a whipped dog.
Wednesday morning, he was up before dawn, wandering around the house, noticing that some of Macy’s things were missing—her shoes, which she left everywhere, and the stack of books she intended to read that stayed on the desk in the kitchen. It felt as if she were already gone.
Already gone.
Wyatt couldn’t believe he was thinking that.
She wasn’t leaving him, she was confused! Who wouldn’t be? He had to be patient, be the logical, reasonable one in this.
On his way to work, Wyatt stopped in at the Saddle-brew for a cup of joe and ran into Bob Franklin.
“Hey!” Bob said. “You’re up early.”
“Yep,” Wyatt said. “Got a lot of work.” He turned to Sam, who looked a little bleary-eyed. “Hi, Sam.”
She smiled. “Hi, Wyatt. Predictable black coffee?”
“Please,” he said.
“Yessir, it’s good to be working,” Bob said. “The way this economy keeps sliding, it’s nice to know people still have that opportunity.”
“Yep,” Wyatt said. He wasn’t much of a morning person, and even less so in his current frame of mind. He was moving to pass Bob and say his farewells when Bob said, “It’s none of my business, Wyatt, but I just wanted you to know that Debbie and I are real sorry about what you and Macy are going through.”
Wyatt paused. “Thanks,” he said uncertainly. “But I think everything will be fine once her…once Lockhart gets his bearings.”
“Once Lockhart gets his bearings?” Bob asked, seemingly confused.
“Yes. Why?” Wyatt asked, peering curiously at him. “What’s the matter?”
Bob shook his head. “That’s what I get for listening to Debbie. She heard about the thing that happened at Ruthie’s, and I—”
“What thing?” Wyatt interrupted.
Bob reared back a little. “Nothing worth repeating. I don’t know what I’m talking about, and you know Debbie, she can talk until she’s blue. I just misunderstood whatever it is she thinks she heard. Never mind me—you have a good day now,” he said, and turned away, walking briskly out of the store before Wyatt could question him.
“What thing?” Wyatt asked Sam.
“I have no idea,” Sam said as she handed him his coffee. “Don’t worry about it. You know how this town is—they love to feed on gossip.”
“You’re right,” he said, but he had a funny feeling.
Wyatt was mildly surprised to find Linda Gail already in the office when he arrived. She usually eased in around nine or so.
“Good morning!” she said cheerfully as Wyatt walked through the door.
“You’re here early,” he said gruffly.
“Why, I’m fine, Wyatt. Thank you for asking.”
Wyatt sighed. “Sorry. Good morning, Linda Gail. You’re here early.”
“Yes, I am,” she said, beaming a smile. “I have a lot of work to do. You worked hard these last two days, which means I’ve got even more to do than usual, so I came in early to get caught up.”
“I won’t get in your way.” Wyatt started toward his office, but he paused at the door and looked back at Linda Gail, who was standing at the copy machine. “Hey,” he said.
Linda Gail turned partially toward him, a stack of papers in her hand.
“Did you…did you hear anything about, ah…” Wyatt choked. Was he insane, or was he about to ask Linda Gail if she knew anything about his wife?
“Yes,” Linda Gail said, sparing him the agony of finishing his sentence. “Do you want to know what I heard?”
He was relieved by her no-nonsense response. “I’d be grateful if you’d tell me so I don’t look like an idiot when the next person mentions it.”
Something flickered over Linda Gail’s brown eyes, something like pity, which made him want to turn and walk away. But he just stood there, because he had to know what was going on.
“You know Ruthie’s Bar?” Linda Gail asked. Wyatt nodded.
She told him what had happened there Monday night. He was so angry and alarmed that he couldn’t move, couldn’t do much of anything but stand there and grip the door handle. He was so stupid, thinking he could just be patient and Macy would come around.
“Wyatt?” Linda Gail said, now looking alarmed.
“Thanks,” Wyatt said, and dropped his hand from the office door and started back to the entrance.
“Wait—where are you going?” Linda Gail asked, turning a full circle in order to follow his path.
“There’s something I need to do,” he said brusquely. Like get his wife back.
“No, wait, wait,” Linda Gail said, hurrying to the door and putting herself between Wyatt and the exit. “Don’t go doing something rash, Wyatt Clark, because you’ll regret it. And besides, Randy Hawkins is on his way here!”
“Randy?” he asked, trying to shake off his anger.
“Randy Hawkins is meeting you at nine, remember? To drive out and look at that piece you’ve got? You’ve been chomping at the bit like a racehorse to show Randy that land so you can sell it.”
That was true. Wyatt needed a deal—he had a Hill Country Resort and Spa investors meeting next week and he needed to show them he had a plan. Wyatt glanced at his watch—it was ten until nine, and if there was one thing you could count on, it was that Randy was always on time.
“Right,” he said to his watch. “I’ll wait for him outside. Call Caroline and set up a meeting.”
“Caroline Spalding?”
He didn’t have time to coax Linda Gail along. If Caroline was going to list with him, she needed to do it. “Just do it, Linda Gail,” he said, and started to walk out.
“What may or may not have happened at Ruthie’s doesn’t mean anything,” Linda Gail tried. But Wyatt gave her a cold expression that relayed his opinion of that theory, and walked out the door.
24
While Wyatt was waiting for Randy, Macy was lying facedown on her bed, her hair covering her face. In the hand that dangled off the edge of the bed she held a picture of her and Finn taken at an Independence Day lake party several years ago. She was wearing long, tropical-print surfboard shorts, a bathing suit top, and a big floppy hat. Finn had on his straw cowboy hat, a muscle T-shirt that said Lucchese Boots across his chest, and plain brown board shorts. Macy was laughing at something the person taking the photo had said—one of those big, openmouthed laughs, which she thought was odd now, since she couldn’t remember the joke any longer.
But what struck her about the photo was Finn. He was smiling in that lone cowboy way he had, like he knew something no one else knew, or saw something no one else saw.
In her other hand, which was balled up beneath her pillow, Macy held a picture of her and Wyatt on a cruise along the Pacific coast they’d taken last summer. It had been one of many surprises from Wyatt, just because he’d wanted to surprise her.
In the picture, they were standing in the ship’s casino. Macy was wearing the dress Wyatt had bought her—a shimmering peach silk that she’d loved—and holding a stack of chips. He was wearing the Hawaiian shirt she hated, but never had the heart to tell him. He loved that shirt. They looked picture perfect, a ha
ppy couple very much in love. They’d been that perfect couple. They’d talked about children, both of them wanting several, and they’d started trying this summer, and now…now….
Everything will be all right.
Milo whimpered to be let out of her room. Macy got up, pulled a shirt on over her shorts, and opened the door. Milo scampered down the hall.
“Macy-cakes Clark, is that you?” Jesse called.
Macy stuck her head out the door and saw Jesse down the hall. “Who wants to know?”
“Just making sure you’re alive,” he said, strolling down the hall toward her. “You never miss having a couple of bowls of Froot Loops and when we didn’t see you this morning, I worried something was wrong.”
“Nothing’s wrong,” she said, realizing that she sounded defensive as hell. “Where’s Laru?”
“Out telling Ernesto how to do his job,” Jesse said with a grin, and paused outside her door. “What you got there?” he asked, nodding at her hand.
Macy looked down. She was still clutching the picture of Wyatt. “Nothing,” she said, and moved back into her room. A brush. She needed a hairbrush.
“Lot of nothings in this room,” Jesse observed, propping his shoulder against the jamb.
“Okay, Jesse, you’ve seen me, I’m alive,” Macy said, and pushed a handful of her hair from her face. Where was her hairbrush?
“You coming? I’ll put out some Cap’n Crunch for you.”
“Thanks. I’ll be there in a minute,” she said, and looked away.
Still, Jesse didn’t move. Macy glanced back to see why he was loitering and noticed he was looking at something at the foot of her bed. Macy followed his gaze and saw the pregnancy test stick that she’d thrown to the end of the bed and left there. With a cry of alarm, she lunged for the stick, but it was too late. Jesse was staring at her, eyes widened with shock, as if she’d done something criminal.
“That is none of your business!” she cried, shoving the stick under her pillow.
“I’ll take it from that reaction that it came up positive,” he said dryly. “Jesus, girl, you’re a mess. Now what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know what I am going to do, but if you breathe a word of this to anyone, Jesse Wheeler, I will personally wring your neck!”
He looked slightly offended. “I wouldn’t give you up.”
“Not even Laru,” Macy cried, pointing her finger at him.
“Especially Laru. You think I’m crazy? If she knew this, she’d be all over you like spines on a cactus, and just about that prickly.”
“Tell me about it,” Macy muttered.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Jesse asked. Macy instantly looked up, suspicious. But Jesse shrugged. “I like you, kid. If I can help you, I’ll do it.”
“I don’t know,” she said uncertainly. The pregnancy test changed everything. She still wasn’t sure she believed it. The two tests she’d taken hadn’t turned as blue as the picture on the box. She and Finn had tried for two years to have a baby, and she and Wyatt had just started trying. It had taken two weeks!
“Would it be rude to ask who is the father?” Jesse asked.
“Are you kidding? It’s Wyatt’s, Jesse!”
“Hey, okay,” Jesse said, throwing up a hand. “I know you’re in a tough spot. When I heard about the scene at Ruthie’s—”
“What?” Macy cried. “You heard about that?”
Jesse was beginning to look a little uncomfortable. “Macy, have you been to Cedar Springs? Because in case you didn’t notice during the twenty-eight years you’ve lived here, it’s a small town and everyone knows everyone else’s business. I think the only person who hasn’t heard about what happened is the guy who owns that hubcap place out on 71, and only because he’s deaf.”
“Ohmigod,” Macy moaned.
“Look, don’t freak out,” Jesse said. “That test could be wrong.”
“It could?” Macy asked hopefully. “See, that’s what I was thinking!”
“Oh, yeah. I had a girlfriend once who thought she was pregnant. That thing came up so blue you’d think the sky was in her bathroom. But it was wrong. Turns out she had too much stress or something like it.”
Stress! Macy was under an incredible amount of stress. She looked at the stick.
“But if it turns out to be right, you let me know if you need something,” Jesse said. He walked out, leaving Macy with hope that it was false.
Randy pulled up in his black Dodge one-ton Hemi pickup at precisely nine o’clock. He gestured for Wyatt to get in his truck. Wyatt preferred to drive, but he never argued with a prospective buyer.
They drove out west of town and deep into the Hill Country to have a look at the prime ranchland Wyatt was hoping to sell Randy. They got out and walked a good ways into six hundred unspoiled acres so Randy could size it up for grazing suitability.
In the middle of a grassy patch, Randy swept off his trucker hat and looked at Wyatt. “You’re right, Wyatt—this is good land.”
“I thought you’d like it.”
“Let’s go on back to town and talk,” Randy said.
A wave of relief rushed through Wyatt—Randy was going to buy, he could feel it. “All right,” he said dispassionately.
As they started back to the truck, Randy asked, “So how are you these days, Wyatt? That soldier still in town?”
“Yep,” Wyatt said curtly. He really didn’t want to talk about it.
“So what’s up with that?” Randy asked unabashedly, squinting at him. “Must be strange for your wife, man, and you’ve gotta be in a strange place.”
So strange he couldn’t see a foot in front of him. Wyatt needed this deal too much to risk offending Randy by telling him to keep his mouth shut. “Yeah, she’s got to make some decisions, I guess.” He said it with a laugh that sounded more like a bark to him than anything else.
“Hey, man, I didn’t mean to pry. I just figured—”
“It’s complicated,” Wyatt said.
“Okay,” Randy muttered as they trudged up the hill. “So how’s the resort and spa coming?” he asked jovially, changing the subject.
Wyatt glanced at Randy. “Truth is, the idea for that project was developed on the land Lockhart owned before he was given up for dead. It was part of the package I put together and I was about to close the deal on behalf of my wife, and then Lockhart drops out of the sky and wants it back.”
“Oh man,” Randy said sympathetically. “How much land are we talking?”
“Three hundred acres of prime ranchland.”
“What did he run on it?”
“A few dozen head of cattle. His real business was training working cutting horses.”
“Yeah, I seem to remember that,” Randy said, nodding. “Pretty good at it, too, wasn’t he?”
To hear Macy tell it, he was God’s gift to horses. “I gather he was one of the best in the southwest.”
“That sucks,” Randy said.
“Yep. Yeah, this whole thing really sucks,” Wyatt admitted, letting his guard down for a rare moment. “We were using the southern end of the property for a condo development, and we’d even begun a little of the excavation on the southern end of his ranch. I mean, I represent the seller and the buyer—I couldn’t see the harm in it, but then wham, the bottom falls out when this guy turns up alive.”
“No kidding. When was it supposed to close?”
“Tomorrow afternoon,” Wyatt said. He had yet to cancel the closing. Couldn’t remember, didn’t want to remember, something like that.
“You’ve got the legal authority to sell?”
“Yes. My wife couldn’t face selling it but knew it had to be sold, so she gave me power of attorney.” He explained the legal situation to Randy as his lawyer Jack had explained it to him: If Wyatt sold the land, he would have to return the value to Finn, but they wouldn’t take the land from the new owner. At least in that scenario, Wyatt would be out the money, but he’d have the land.
Randy stopped walking, put his hands on his hips, and looked at Wyatt. “Look, Wyatt, I don’t want to get in your business, but I get the idea you don’t want this guy around.”
Wyatt snorted. “Would you?”
“You haven’t met my wife,” Randy said. “But I’m serious about this. If you want the soldier to move on, the best way to make that happen is to sell that land. If he doesn’t have a way to make his living, then what’s he going to do? He’s going to go somewhere he can have the kind of space he needs to run cattle and train cutters. West Texas, most like.”
Wyatt stared at Randy. What he was suggesting was so unethical, so outrageous, so abhorrent that Wyatt couldn’t believe Randy had even said it.
But Randy merely shrugged. “I’m just saying, if you want that guy gone, the best way to do it is to go ahead and sell his livelihood.”
“Okay, a, that is not exactly legal at this point, and b, all he’d have to do is take it to a judge and get it back,” Wyatt said incredulously.
“That’s right. But think about it. They’ve done the title search, right? A big title company in Austin isn’t going to connect Lockhart to that land at this point. They’re just shoving papers under your hand to sign. Legal or not, you know as well as I do that stuff gets through these closings that shouldn’t all the time. So it happens. Then Lockhart will be going up against a conglomerate that’s already begun excavation on a multimillion-dollar project. You think he’s got the kind of money he’d need to fight it?”
“He’d have the proceeds from the sale of the land,” Wyatt pointed out.
“That money will be sitting in your account. How’s he going to get it unless you give it to him? Furthermore, what if you just wrote him a check? He’s still going to want his land back, and he’ll run through all his money and them some trying to get it back. Then he’d have nothing. No, he’d take the money and run.”