by Leigh Riker
Dirty hands explored every inch of the truck, leaving marks on Logan’s fresh wax job. He didn’t care. Nicky’s joy was all that mattered. But wrangling a bunch of little kids sure wasn’t easy, orders of magnitude harder than Nicky alone.
Someone bumped his shoulder, and he turned around. Libby, in a white suit that would probably look brown by the end of the party, glared at him. “You didn’t return that truck.”
He’d meant to tell her. “Libby, he loves it. What harm can there be—”
She kept her voice low. “You, of all people, should know. I agreed to attend this party—Grey convinced me and your Blossom made me feel guilty—”
“She’s not ‘my’ Blossom.”
“—but how could you?”
“I’m his father, that’s how.” Or at least he was trying to learn to be a father to his son again. “I have as much right as you do to buy something for Nicky.” Here we go.
“I’m taking him home.”
“No, Libby. You’re not.” Logan stepped between her and the tack room. “Let him be. He’s having the time of his life. It’s probably the first time he’s been allowed to run and raise...Cain...since I last saw him.”
The children buzzed past them, around them, running off to the yard again. After their thorough inspection, the truck had lost their interest for now.
Her eyes flashed. “No wonder the judge granted me sole custody.”
“Yeah, well, that’s about to change.”
She blinked. “You’re planning to take me to court again?”
“As soon as possible.” He hadn’t intended to reveal that just yet, but Libby had made him see red. He’d never thought that actually happened.
“And then what? If you win, you’ll take him to Wichita? How would that work, Logan? Three days here, four days there—the way we lived when you were ranching and off looking for that job? It didn’t work then. It won’t now. You can’t be serious.”
“Libby, come on.”
She glanced at her watch, a dressy thing he’d never seen before with lots of gold and silver and probably a price tag to go with it. She’d done well for herself and her business in the past three years. He wanted to feel proud of her. Olivia Wilson Hunter, now Wilson again.
Libby marched toward the barn doors. “Nicholas has exactly two hours. Then, whether this party is over or not, we’re going home. Before any damage is done.”
“You want to talk about damage...” he began.
But she was already marching toward the house in her fancy white suit.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
SAM LEANED AGAINST the corral’s top rail and grinned. Those kids, six at a time on horseback, were whooping and hollering until every horse in the ring had its ears laid flat. Well-trained—he’d trained most of them himself, Sawyer the rest, maybe Logan one or two—they didn’t react otherwise. Logan and Willy were directing the action now, and Sam felt a twinge of envy.
Grey Wilson ambled toward him. “How’s it going, Sam?”
“Couldn’t have put on a better party myself.” There was nothing he liked more than to see life on the Circle H again, including Blossom’s coming baby.
Grey stood beside him. “Look at Nick. He’s a natural.”
“If he was still living here, I’d have him in junior rodeo soon.”
“Yeah, well...” Grey wouldn’t say any more, but he had to be relieved that his sister had gotten here, at least. “I think all the women are having a good time.” Grey frowned. “I left Libby, Blossom and...Shadow in the kitchen. Ten minutes, and it was time to make my exit. It smells way too good in there. My stomach’s still growling.”
Sam slid him a look. “Almost time for cake and ice cream.”
“Not before Libby sees to it that Nick eats the lunch Blossom prepared. Kid favorites,” he said. “Hamburgers, hot dogs, fries, mac and cheese, and milk.”
“No soda.” Sam shook his head. “Libby doesn’t allow sweets.”
“Well, she’s going to allow that cake today. If I have to, I’ll see to that.”
“Thanks, Grey. I know you had to talk her into coming—giving us the list of his friends to invite.”
“Blossom helped.” He put a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “I know it pains you to see her and Logan at each other’s throats.”
“I hope to live long enough to see them acting like reasonable adults.”
Grey half smiled. “My view, as well.”
The group of boys and girls streaked past on horseback, big grins on their little faces. Sam gave Logan a thumbs-up, but Logan didn’t respond. His mouth looked taut and he didn’t seem himself.
Sam remembered the night at dinner when Logan had bolted from the table with Blossom after him. Something Sam had said troubled him, but it seemed Logan and Blossom had argued, too, because clearly they weren’t talking now. Sam never knew what would come out of his mouth, but maybe he shouldn’t have mentioned marriage.
What if Logan thought his mind was gone? And decided to send him away after all?
“You okay, Sam?”
“Sure. Glad to have the wind and sun on my face. After all those days in bed upstairs, and dinner on a tray every night, being outdoors is like being born again.”
“I’m glad you’re feeling better.”
“Next step,” he said, “is getting on a horse again myself.”
* * *
BLOSSOM STEPPED ONTO the back porch to ring the bell. Lunch was ready. In the outdoor arena the last group of children walked their horses toward the gate. The riding part of the day was over.
The door behind her opened again, and Shadow Moran joined her, wearing a slight frown. “Those horses must be dizzy by now. Going around in circles.”
“They’ve had fun, though. The kids.”
Shadow leaned her forearms on the railing. “Remind me to hire you the next time I give a party. You thought of everything, Blossom. I love the favors and the gift bags for each child. The dining room looks so colorful.”
She flushed. “I enjoyed doing it. A birthday party’s not as hard for me as cooking something Logan will actually eat.”
“He should eat what’s put in front of him, as my father always said.” Shadow shaded her eyes with one hand, watching the kids lead their mounts back into the barn under close supervision. “He’s gone now, but I’ll never go back to that house.”
“You won’t have to. Your agency is doing well, right?”
“Well enough. Oh. That reminds me.” She dug into her jeans pocket. “I brought your check with me. The last one and this week’s pay, too.”
“Thanks.” On her most recent day in town, Blossom had never reached the Mother Comfort office.
Shadow sighed. “I really shouldn’t have come today. I should have known Grey would be here, too. After all, he’s Nick’s uncle.”
Which told Blossom that Shadow had come knowing he’d be here, all right. She remembered Shadow’s last visit and those looks toward Wilson Cattle. Grey was still on her mind, and Blossom couldn’t help thinking their issue wasn’t just heartbreak.
“You had to come. You’re a friend of the family.”
Shadow held her gaze. “Your friend, too, I hope. And I’m hoping you’ll stay here rather than run again—not that I blame you.”
Blossom told her about her one-night escape. “I’d like to stay, but Ken wants me back—what’s his, he’d probably say—though he wouldn’t miss a day of work to find me himself. He hired a private detective. He’s far too ‘important’ to waste his time on a mere woman who, in his opinion, is worthless.”
“I hate him already.” Shadow let the silence build between them for a few long moments. Then she said, “The reason I came out here to talk to you alone... Blossom, I’ve heard from Bertie. I hate to bring this up
today with the party going on...”
“Just say it.”
“Bertie’s being released from the hospital then going into rehab for a month—which no one expected. After that, he may go home. Jack Hancock is ready to fill in here, at least while Bertie’s away.”
The sunny day, the laughter of children, the enticing aromas of food wafting from the kitchen, all seemed to disappear. The world went white, and sounds echoed in her ears. “What did Logan say?”
“I’m telling you first this time.” The kids were spilling from the barn now and tumbling as if in a giant ball toward the house.
Why feel this stunned? She’d known this would come sooner or later, the announcement she’d waited for and then dreaded, and in the end it wasn’t just Ken who would send her running. It was Logan, too. They’d both said they would leave after this party. Blossom squared her shoulders then linked arms with Shadow, forcing a smile. There was no reason to make her feel bad. “Let’s serve lunch. I’m glad you came. Thanks for letting me know.”
They were handing out hot dogs at the table when Grey wandered in. He propped a shoulder against the door frame to the kitchen, and Shadow stiffened then hurried from the room, sweeping past him without touching. Grey looked at Blossom. “Logan will be late. He’s still putting up horses.”
Or was he stalling, so he wouldn’t have to be around Blossom as much? Shadow wasn’t the only one with an obvious conflict.
Shadow returned from another trip to the kitchen, pushing by Grey, as if she wouldn’t let him chase her away, to set a platter of hamburgers on the table. The kids, chattering among themselves, had dug in to their fries and mac and cheese, and their glasses of milk were empty. “He wouldn’t be late if you’d help him,” she told Grey.
His mouth turned grim. “Not here, okay, Shadow?”
“I’ll say whatever I please, wherever I please,” she muttered.
He put a hand on her back to guide her from the dining room, where all the presents were piled on the sideboard, then shut the swinging kitchen door. But Blossom had gone ahead of them, hoping to avoid what promised to be a scene. She’d had enough of that with Logan.
“Would you two like to be alone?”
Grey leaned against the counter, his long legs crossed at the ankles. His gaze fixed on Shadow. “No, I may need a witness.” His mouth thinned. “What’s your problem, beautiful? You left that old postage-stamp farm years ago, but you know what? You’re still there. I’ve told you before—I’m not the guilty one.”
Blossom stuck a last candle on the cake. “I need someone to carry this.” Trimmed in blue icing, with a design of a pickup truck on top, the cake stood three layers high and was Blossom’s pride and joy. Ken had been wrong about her. As Shadow had pointed out, there were things she could do, and do well. She rested a hand on her stomach.
“Sorry,” Grey murmured.
Shadow echoed his apology. “I wouldn’t have said a word, but then I don’t expect to see Grey again. I thought I should make myself clear.”
Grey only said, “I’ll give you a call.”
Shadow didn’t answer. Tight-lipped, she grabbed the carton of ice cream from the freezer then disappeared into the dining room. Blossom heard cheers.
“She’s not my biggest fan,” Grey said, studying his boots.
“Oh, Grey.” Blossom touched his clean-shaven cheek. “You love her.”
“Yep. Since I was seventeen. We used to double-date with Libby and Logan when I was in high school. You know how that turned out.”
“I wish you better luck.”
“I’ll need it,” he said, but instead of joining the festivities in the dining room, he headed for the back door, leaving Blossom to carry the cake. “I’ll fetch Logan for you. He won’t want to miss the candles and the birthday song.”
* * *
FROM WHAT LOGAN could see, Nicky had gotten more presents than any kid he’d known. But then, most of Logan’s own birthday party invites had dwindled off after his folks died. Sam hadn’t given him and his brother any parties that he recalled after his grandmother passed away, but Logan hadn’t cared. He stood back now from the dining room table, watching the last frenzy of gift opening.
Blossom stood next to him but a foot away.
“Olivia knew what she was talking about.” Blossom seemed to address no one in particular, but then she looked at Logan. “She knew Nick would tear open his presents. You need to cut each other some slack.”
“That’s still your opinion, is it?”
“I’d tell her the same thing.”
He looked at her. And in spite of his vow not to get involved, his heart rolled over. Her pregnancy had given Blossom a new glow. Or was it living on the Circle H? Far away from Ken. Despite the past days of righteous silence between them, she’d looked almost happy earlier—as if Logan had anything to do with that. So what had changed that look in her eyes? Their quarrel, but something else, too. Something new that had ruined her enjoyment of the party.
Nicky held up a foam weapon he’d pulled from a blue-and-green package with dragons on it. He crowed, “Look! I got it! Just what I wanted!” He grinned at his friend. “Now we can play war.”
On the other side of the table Libby blanched. She’d made it through “Happy Birthday” sung slightly off key, then ice cream and the cake Blossom had baked—complete with sparklers among the lit candles—but the adventure toy was too much. He expected her to bolt for her car at any second, as she’d promised, taking Nicky with her. Logan had no idea when he’d see his boy again.
“Relax,” he said, but of course Libby didn’t. Any minute now she’d put an end to this party. By the time she and Nicky got to Barren, she’d probably have scolded his son into a state of misery. And the judge thought she was the more fit parent? She moved to take the toy from him, but Logan tilted his head toward the front entryway. “Leave it. I need to talk to you.”
With Blossom and Shadow to manage the rest of the party, he went out onto the porch. Libby stalked after him. As soon as the screen door banged shut, she crossed her arms. “Well. What?”
“Thanks for bringing Nicky today. I appreciate that.”
Her eyes snapped. “But, really, Logan...all those presents in there do nothing except teach him that violence is exciting, even desirable.”
“I didn’t buy him that toy gun.”
“What about the truck? How macho. I’m trying to raise a gentle, caring human being—not Rambo.”
“No, you’re teaching him to become a sissy. He’s a boy. Little boys like stuff that goes ‘pow’ and ‘bam.’ I don’t know why either, but when I was a kid—Sawyer, too—we loved the same stuff. We grew out of it.”
“Did you? Do you know how many nights and days I sat out here on this ranch, praying you’d come home safe without getting gored by some bull? As for flying—planes that may or may not have mechanical faults—”
“You worried?” From his standpoint he’d never viewed his job as any riskier than a lot of other types of work. He had confidence in his skills as a pilot.
“Yes, I did. And now I pray to keep my son safe.”
“Libby, he’s our son. We don’t do him any good letting him see us throttle each other every time we meet.” He sounded like Blossom. He tried to take Libby’s hand but she resisted. “I’d never let anything terrible happen to Nicky. I love him, too.”
“I know you do...”
“Today those kids in there have had a great time. He and his friends drove around in that truck, all over the yard...they loved that. I don’t expect you to understand—”
Libby arched a brow. “My being a girl and all.”
“Yeah,” he said, unable to stop a smile. “And still quite a girl at that.”
Libby stiffened.
Logan shook his head. “It’s your choic
e if you want to stay all buttoned-up, though. A white suit to come to the ranch? And Nicky in khakis. With his hair like a tepee perched on his head.”
“It’s the newest fashion.”
“Not around Barren, Kansas. Didn’t you notice? He’s the only one.”
She gazed past him at the front door. “The spike is better than some mullet.”
“The point is, his friends don’t model for some high-fashion kids’ clothing line. Most of them probably see Modern Cowboy or The Horseman magazine on the coffee table at home. They’re Westerners—not from New York or Chicago.”
“Rough and tumble,” she said.
“You grew up here. You should know.” He knew she’d become unhappy at the Circle H, but now he wondered if she really liked living in Barren. “It may be okay for Shadow and Grey to argue like they do, because there’s no one else involved, but it’s not right for you and me.”
From inside the house, he heard a roar of delight. Another goal scored with a perfect gift to Nicky. A few giggles followed then a shouted group demand for more cake.
Even Libby had to smile. “They are having fun, aren’t they?”
“Yeah.”
To his surprise, she reached for his hand. “I hear what you’re saying.”
Logan did a double take. “You what?”
“Maybe I am a bit...protective with Nick.”
He lightly squeezed her hand. “He’s been fine today, Libby—more than. You don’t need to worry when he’s here.”
“I’d still rather he didn’t spend that much time at the Circle H, but perhaps that’s something I do need to deal with. For now, I’m grateful that today turned out well. No one got hurt. But I’ll hold you to your promise. If anything else does happen—” She didn’t finish.
He didn’t need the warning.
Libby withdrew her hand from his. And, to his amazement, said, “When would you like to see him again?”
* * *
STANDING ON THE front porch with Logan and Sam, but with her thoughts elsewhere, Blossom watched the party guests leave. One by one, mothers and fathers had come to collect their offspring. By then every kid’s impressive energy appeared to be flagging. In the backseats of cars, SUVS and pickup trucks, little heads nodded even as car horns tooted another goodbye.