His Favorite Cowgirl

by Leigh Duncan

  “I’m sorry you had to find out that way.” He didn’t even try to deny it, but his fingers jerked back as if he had just grabbed a hot pan from the oven. “I didn’t want you to know. I didn’t want anyone to know.”

  “You should have told me. You said you loved me. We were planning a future together. Isn’t that the kind of thing you tell someone you love?”

  “I planned to, Kel. I just hadn’t...yet.”

  She backed away, putting some much-needed space between them. “I thought you wanted to help me and my grandfather. You said you were being a good neighbor. But you were using me all along, weren’t you?”

  “That’s not true,” Hank began in a far-too-reasonable tone. “The day we picked Noelle up from the airport I told you I wanted to list the Bar X. I offered to make repairs, pay for them out of my own pocket. In exchange, you said you’d let me handle the sale of the ranch. I’ve kept my part of the bargain.”

  He didn’t say it was time for her to keep her half, but she understood. He expected her to do her part. “Yeah, well, things have changed. I don’t need to sell anymore.”

  Hadn’t that been the whole reason for the phone call that had knocked the wind out of her? She’d wanted to mail a check to his office. She’d imagined Hank’s face lighting up when she told him she wasn’t leaving. Instead of dancing with joy, though, his blue eyes darkened.

  “What about your big, important job in Houston? The one you were so fired up to get back to?”

  Kelly felt the color drain from her face. She could have rushed back to Texas immediately after her grandfather’s funeral. If she had, she was pretty sure she could have reclaimed her job at Palmetto Boots. Instead, she’d stayed put, sacrificed twelve years of hard work for a chance at a future with Hank. But what kind of future could they have if it was built on lies?

  “I—I quit. The important thing is that I was on my way here tonight to tell you.” She laughed bitterly. “I’ve been feeling so guilty about not telling you right away, but you’ve been lying to me from the very beginning.”

  Hank’s face hardened and his gaze turned icy. “You never intended to go through with the sale, did you? You’ve been planning this all along.”

  “No.” She eyed him carefully. Hank had stood to make a lot of money from the sale of the Bar X. Was that what their relationship was really all about? Had he ever wanted her, just her? Or had he been more interested in her ranch?

  “This isn’t about me. This is about you. You’re the one who never once mentioned you ran your business in Tallahassee into the ground.” She forced herself to take a breath even though her chest felt so tight she wasn’t sure she could breathe. “Did you ever love me? Or were you just taking advantage of what we once were to each other in order to get what you wanted?”

  She had to face facts—Hank didn’t want her any more than her mother or her grandfather had. She’d been a fool to think she’d find acceptance in his arms. “I should have known better than to trust you, to trust a Judd,” she whispered. “After all, your family has been taking advantage of mine for decades.”

  Hank’s gaze hardened. “Spoken like a true Tompkins,” he growled. “Always looking to blame the other guy for your own mistakes.”

  Regret flashed across his face, but it was too late. He’d gone too far, and so had she. They’d both crossed a line neither of them could ever uncross. She stood, a deadly calm replacing the emotions that had been swirling around her. She reached into her pocket and drew out a slip of paper. “You might as well take it,” she said, holding out the check. “It’s all you really wanted.”

  “Keep it,” Hank spat. His mouth worked.

  Kelly braced herself for another harsh retort. But before he could speak, the clatter of running feet sounded from the hall. Seconds later, Ty stood in the doorway, his face pale.

  “Hank,” he blurted, unaware that her world had just shattered. “Phone call.”

  Hank’s jaw clenched. The veins in his neck stood out. “It better be life or death, man.”

  “It’s Garrett,” came Ty’s hoarse whisper. “And it is.”

  Hank took a single step toward the office. For a moment, he stood, rocking back and forth as if he couldn’t decide which of two terrible choices deserved his attention.

  The broken shards of her future rained down around Kelly. With one hand she motioned him away from her. With the other, she shoved the slip of paper back into her pocket. “Go,” she told him. “There’s nothing more to say here.”

  Slowly, the man she’d loved and lost, twice, turned and walked away. Unable to stand the hurt anymore, she did what she should have done in the first place. She ran.

  Chapter Eleven

  Careful to slide his bare feet across the boards lest he step on one of his brothers, Hank padded through the living room. The entire Judd clan had raced to Garrett’s side the minute the call went out. No one had slept much those first few nights, but now, following the funeral, they were sprawled wherever they could plunk down pillows and grab a couple hours’ sleep. Across the room, one of the twins snorted and turned over. Seconds later, his double did the same. Hank eased the back door open.

  Few lights glowed in the neighborhood of older homes crowded cheek-to-jowl next to the freeway. Even at this hour, heavy traffic sped beyond the sound barrier at the end of the street. A horn honked. He heard the squeal of brakes and, for an instant, he held his breath. When the thud of smashing cars didn’t follow, he picked his way across the patio.

  “Couldn’t sleep?” Garrett’s voice rose out of the dark of the moonless night.

  “Nah.” Hank lowered himself into an empty lawn chair, the metal frame scraping across the poured cement. “You?”

  “The baby woke me. Mom’s givin’ him a bottle.”

  In the four days since they’d brought Baby Boy Judd home from the hospital, Doris had handled all the mothering duties.

  “You decide on a name yet?” He couldn’t be Baby Boy Judd forever. Now that Arlene had been laid to rest, Garrett’s son needed a name.

  The plastic webbing on Garrett’s chair creaked. Hank caught a whiff of whiskey in the pause that followed.

  “We were gonna name ’im Seth Arlan for our dads, but...”

  Hank stretched his legs. “Those are some pretty heavy monikers to stick on the littlest Judd.” His throat closed shut. In the past year, there had been too many losses. He coughed. “Maybe we could just call him LJ.”

  He had meant it as a joke, but Garrett raised his flask. “To LJ,” he toasted, knocking back a swig. “You want a hit?”

  “Nah, I’m good.” The thinking he had to do was best done with a clear head. “You gonna be okay?” Concern for his brother welled up so high it damn near squeezed tears out of his eyes.

  “It wasn’t supposed to be like this, you know?”

  The pain in the elder Judd’s voice took a sledgehammer to Hank’s heart. “I know, bro.” Used to getting advice from his big brother, he didn’t know what else to say.

  “Sarah and Emma packed up Ar—her clothes. They dropped ’em off at Goodwill,” Garrett said. He seemed to be avoiding using his wife’s name. Maybe it hurt less that way. “Emma’s been cooking up a storm. There’s gotta be six months’ worth of meals in the freezer.” After a long minute, he added, “Mom’s gonna stay on. Help with the baby, with LJ. I have six weeks’ paternity leave...”

  In the distance, a dog barked. Garrett fell silent.

  “Sounds like you’ve worked out a plan.” At least, a plan for dealing with things. Emotionally, though, Garrett was a wreck, and probably would be for a long time. A gaunt ghost of himself, the older Judd sipped quietly but steadily from his flask. He’d yet to hold his infant son or even acknowledge the baby’s presence with anything more than a devastated look whenever LJ cried.

  “You got a
nyone s-special in your life?” Garrett’s words slid into one another as if they were skating on ice.

  “I thought I did.” How long had his normally buttoned-up older brother been bending his elbow? Long enough to empty the flask? Hank shrugged even though Garrett couldn’t see the motion. “Things didn’t work out.”

  “Next time, work harder.” A damp hand clutched Hank’s forearm. “You only get one chance. Maybe two. Don’t waste it.”

  “I’ll do my best.” Reassurance rolled off his tongue, but inside his head a voice chided him for blowing his last chance with Kelly. He placed his hands on his knees and pushed himself out of the deep chair. “Now, what say we get you into bed?” A few remaining gulps sloshed against the flask’s metal sides as Hank took it from his brother’s limp hand and stuck it in his back pocket. “Need some help, or can you make it on your own?”

  “I kin do it.”

  Though Garrett teetered for a second or two, he shuffled across the patio and down the hall on his own steam. After he watched him go, Hank lifted the flask to his mouth and took a single pull. The cheap liquor burned all the way down. Small wonder it had hit his brother so hard. He stepped inside and stashed the flask in a liquor cabinet.

  His grief-stricken brother might have had one or two more than he should, but he gave solid advice. Too bad this time it had come too late to be of any help. Resigned to a life much emptier than the one he’d planned, Hank headed for the sleeping bag he’d spread out on the floor in the guest room. The world could come to an end but, back home, the cattle needed to be fed, stalls mucked and fences tended. He and Noelle were set to leave at first light.

  In the morning, as dark-haired men with red-rimmed eyes loaded suitcases and bedrolls into trucks, Hank went looking for his daughter. As expected, she was in the baby’s room, leaning over the crib. Tears streaked her cheeks.

  “Oh, Daddy, he’s so little.” Noelle clutched one of the baby’s stuffed toys so tight its eyes bulged. “How’s he going to grow up without a mother? Why did Aunt Arlene have to die?”

  Hank leaned over the crib rail to trail a finger over the sleeping infant’s downy black fuzz. “It is sad, honey. A lot of people love this little baby, though.” He caught the next useless platitude before it spilled across his lips. Despite all the love in the world, LJ would grow up missing his mother. He cleared his throat.

  “Sometimes things happen we can’t control. But Arlene wouldn’t want everyone to be sad all the time. More than anything, she wanted this little fella to come into the world.” So much that she sacrificed her own life for his. “She’d want us to love him and help raise him, don’t you think?”

  Not that he was going to be around to do his part. Once he and Noelle moved to Houston to be with Kelly... Kelly.

  He had lost her for good this time. He’d said things he didn’t mean, words he wished he could take back even as they’d echoed off the walls in the great room. He longed to take her in his arms and tell her how sorry he was, but he knew he’d never get that chance. She’d never give it to him. She didn’t trust him. She’d made that perfectly clear. Without trust, they couldn’t have a future together.

  He wrapped an arm around Noelle’s shoulders. “You still going to Riley’s sleepover tonight?”

  They’d skipped the rodeo—there would be others—but the Mattox girl had postponed her party for a week just so his daughter wouldn’t miss it.

  Noelle scrubbed her cheeks. “I guess. We can’t stay here?”

  “I’m afraid not. It’s time to go. We’re meeting Ty and Sarah at their hotel in thirty minutes.” Ty and Hank and their families had caravanned to Atlanta together. They’d follow one another back to the Circle P, where an unsettled future waited for him.

  Hank stared down at the baby. He’d let everyone think he was grieving for Arlene, when in all actuality, he’d been grieving for all that he had lost. The woman he loved. The chance to restart his business. Even his relationship with Noelle. He couldn’t very well ask the courts to grant full custody to a dad who didn’t have a full-time job...unless he stayed on as the manager of the Circle P. He had examined the possibility from all angles without finding a downside.

  Determined to resolve the issue before they left Atlanta, he sought the twins. He found them milling about on the patio of the house, which had proven too small to hold five tall Judds, their assorted womenfolk and one newborn.

  “So, Royce, Randy, I was thinking,” he said, once they’d moved past the preliminaries. “How set are you on managing the Circle P after the first of the year?” He held his breath and studied his youngest brothers.

  Randy gave his twin a sideways glance. “We were actually hoping—”

  “—to talk to you about that.” Royce finished his brother’s sentence, as he always did.

  “Things are going good for us in Montana.” Randy scuffed a boot against the rough concrete.

  “Mr. Sizemore asked us to stay on another year.” Royce stared at the roofline as if he could see all the way to the north country.

  “He’s converting the ranch over to solar power and—”

  “—offered us a big bonus if we’d stay on till he finishes the job.”

  Hank blinked. He’d always had trouble following the conversational ball as it bounced between his brothers. This was no exception. “You don’t want to come back to the Circle P?”

  Randy’s lips twisted into a half-grin. “Oh, we do. We do. Just not this year. Maybe next December? Think you can stick it out that long?”

  “Well...” Hank pretended to mull it over while he peered closely at his brothers. His mom had always known when Randy had gotten into the cookie jar by the way he flicked his thumb against his forefinger. The twins were now too old to look embarrassed over a few stolen cookies, but they’d inherited the same dark good looks as the rest of their brothers. And hadn’t the boys let it slip that Sizemore had a couple of pretty daughters? He swallowed a smile. He’d bet the pot more than cattle and ranching was keeping the twins in Montana.

  Well, good for them.

  In a year, Noelle would be more settled, more grounded in school, and he’d have a better chance of gaining permanent custody. Another year of free room and board meant he could sock away most of his salary toward the ranch he’d buy one day. Someplace close enough that his daughter’s aunts and uncles could be part of her life. He stuck out his hand.

  “You’ve got a deal. I’ll stay on for another year so you can...” He let his voice trail off, hoping the boys would supply a few pertinent details.

  “Finish that power grid,” said Royce.

  Which left just one final loose end in a life that wasn’t turning out the way Hank had wanted it to. Pain knifed through his chest. He wondered how long his heart would continue to ache. Resolving to carry the hurt for as long as it took, he squared his shoulders. No matter what, he couldn’t let another dozen years pass before he made things right with Kelly. He had wanted her as his wife, his lover, the mother of his child. Maybe he couldn’t have what he wanted but, now that he was going to stick around, he couldn’t let the wound between them fester, either. If for no other reason than good neighborly relations, he had to apologize.

  He felt for the metal band he’d tucked into the fob pocket of his jeans the first day he’d seen Kelly at the hospital. He’d carried it with him wherever he went ever since. Though it had lost its standing as a token of eternal love, he thought she might like to have it. Maybe, he told himself, maybe, it’d help them forge a new relationship from the ashes of the one they’d burned.

  Could he be just friends with Kelly? He shook his head, knowing he’d never be able to look at her without seeing all they had lost.

  * * *

  KELLY SLID THE new sign welcoming guests and students to the Bar X into the bed of her pick-up truck. She’d been right to offer classes in po
le bending and barrel racing. Three young girls had already signed up, and she hadn’t even advertised yet. Heading for home—her home—she rolled down the windows and surfed one hand through the air. All things considered, she could make a good life for herself at the Bar X. Not the life she thought she’d wanted in Houston, certainly not the life she’d planned with Hank and Noelle, but a good life just the same. She’d be fine...as long as she didn’t run into a certain tall, handsome rancher before her broken heart had a chance to heal.

  But at the thought of Hank, her mood dimmed. She hoped he’d move soon. To Tallahassee or wherever. The more time they spent apart from one another, the better chance she had of getting over him. Shaking her head, she pulled her hand back inside and rolled up the window. They hadn’t seen each other in more than twelve years after their last breakup. What made her think she’d do any better this time around?

  For the time being, she’d do her best to avoid him. Not that it would be easy. She’d definitely have to stay away from the school, since Hank had taken an active interest in his daughter’s education. Running into him in the hallway was sure to undermine her fragile recovery. Trips to the feed store were out. She refused to fuel the local gossip mill by breaking down between the oats and the barley if a certain rancher happened to walk in. As for Eli’s, it was a good thing she still had that mail order account. In fact, maybe she would do all her shopping online from the comfort and safety of the Bar X.

  But Hank had left his imprint on her ranch, too, she realized as her truck rumbled down the drive he’d smoothed and graded. Her foot slipped off the gas pedal the instant she spotted his familiar truck parked next to the house. Her breath caught when she saw his frame rocking on her front porch swing. Fresh tears welled in her eyes.

  She brushed them away. Hope—tiny, flickering hope—rose within her as she removed the keys to her truck. Had he come to give them another chance? Was he as sorry as she was? She squelched the idea. Reaching for her purse, she positioned it like a shield of armor across her chest, as she latched on to the one topic that wouldn’t lead back to them.