Maddie Inherits a Cowboy

by Jeannie Watt

  “Okay,” she said.

  “Okay,” Ty echoed. After a moment of silence, he added, “I’m not going to say that was a mistake.” Because if he did, Madeline would probably argue with him.

  “No. It wasn’t,” she agreed, as she pushed the loose hair back from her forehead.

  He thrust his hands into his pockets, so he couldn’t do what he wanted to do.

  “It’d probably be best, though—”

  “I think we both have a handle on the realities of our situation,” Madeline said, cutting him off. “Just…don’t back off, okay, Ty? We can just be friends, but…don’t back off.”

  He pulled in a breath as uneven as hers had been. “I’ll try.” It was the best he could do right now.

  TY WENT BACK INTO his house and spent a long moment studying the small Western bronze his mother had sent him. She’d written “Not a Christmas gift” in bold black letters on the cardboard, then below it had added in smaller letters, “and even if it is, you’d better damned well accept it because I love you. Mom.”

  So Ty had opened the box and pulled out a bronze of a cowgirl sitting with her dog, gazing off into the distance. Kind of sappy, even for his mother, but she’d sent it because the artist was a childhood friend who was making a name for himself in the Western art world, and the subject of the bronze was Ty’s high-school girlfriend, Lacy. He’d almost married her, but they’d been young, and when they went to separate colleges, they’d grown apart. He’d loved her, though.Bronze Lacy looked a little like Madeline.

  Ty put the figure on top of the bookshelf, where he couldn’t see it.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  FRIENDS. JUST FRIENDS.

  Madeline kept repeating the word as she drove to town. That was what she’d promised him. She needed to abide by Ty’s wishes and not maneuver him into her bed. Not easy when she kept noticing how well his jeans fit, and how ridiculously good he smelled when they dragged those hay bales in unison…and how awful it felt to occasionally see deep hurt in his eyes.Focus, Madeline told herself as her tire caught an icy rut. It was Monday and Everett would be in the office. She needed to make it to a cell-phone service area so she could call him.

  She phoned Connor first, however, parking in her usual spot on the edge of town near the elementary school.

  “I was about to call Everett. Have you heard anything else?”

  “It’s quiet now that grades are in and the students are gone. Most of the staff are on vacation. Only the academic grunts, such as myself, will be around the next two weeks.”

  “That’s right. Friday was the last day of classes.” Madeline had never before missed that day, or the celebratory drinks with her colleagues. The department Christmas party.

  She’d never before been guilty until proven innocent, either, but that was the position Dr. Jensen had put her in.

  “I have to call Everett, Connor. I’ll be in touch. Hug Grandma for me.”

  “Will do,” he said with a laugh. Eileen did not appreciate hugs and let it be known. Madeline hung up and then pushed Everett’s number with her thumb. The receptionist put her through.

  “You got my message,” Everett said instead of hello.

  “I did.”

  “I figured Connor would tell you as soon as he could, and I didn’t want you to worry.”

  “Why would I worry?” Madeline asked drily. “I mean, Jensen only announced that I was the perpetrator.”

  “More like leaked. And I don’t think it was Jensen.”

  “Why?” Madeline demanded.

  “I don’t like to talk about evidence over the phone, Madeline. Just trust me that this will work in your favor. They made an error—which is why I don’t think Jensen was involved in this ploy.”

  “If you won’t talk about evidence over the phone, then I’m going to be in your office first thing tomorrow morning.”

  “Not during the holiday season. You’ll never get a flight.”

  “Everett. Please. How confidential can it be?”

  “It’s not so much confidential as…” His voice trailed off momentarily and then he sighed. “We’ve discovered when the samples were taken though the lab logs. We also know when Jensen tested his samples. There’s only one window of opportunity, and you, my dear, were away from your job for two weeks during that time.”

  Madeline put a hand to her head. “You mean…”

  “When your brother passed away,” he said gently. “You were in Maine, making the funeral arrangements.”

  She closed her eyes. She hadn’t left Eileen alone once during that time.

  “Madeline?”

  “I’m here.” And she was still grappling with the fact that she had a clear alibi. Someone had tried to stick it to her and had accidentally stuck himself.

  “This will shorten the process, but I’m afraid we’ll have to go through both inquiry committee and the investigative committee. They aren’t going to simply take my word on this.”

  “I understand.” She didn’t like it, but she understood.

  “How are things on the ranch?”

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  “Maybe we can have dinner when you come back. I’ll fill you in on the case and you can tell me about the ranch.”

  “Thanks, Everett. I owe you.”

  “Indeed you do,” he said with a laugh. “But I’ll pay for dinner.”

  Madeline fought a smile. She could go home. She could return to the campus, go back to her job without embarrassment. Go back to her old life.

  In an odd way she was going to miss the ranch. Parts of it, anyway.

  Madeline tucked her phone into her pocket and started the car, but instead of turning around and heading back up the mountain, she drove on to the mercantile. The jingle bells rang as she opened the door, and Anne looked up from her solitaire game.

  “Will you take a debit card?” Madeline asked.

  “Is it stolen?”

  “Is that a prerequisite?”

  Anne cackled. “Good one. I take plastic. Short on cash?”

  “Getting there. I’ll take one of these rancher knives.”

  “Outfitting yourself?” Anne asked as she removed one from the display.

  “Arming my lawyer,” Madeline replied. He deserved a souvenir of the Wild West. She thought for a moment, then said, “Make that two knives.”

  Anne smiled. “You’re becoming my favorite customer.”

  “I can’t arm my lawyer without arming my business partner.”

  “Getting Ty a knife, eh?”

  “He’s earned it,” Madeline said. “I’m not the easiest person to deal with.”

  “You are different from your brother,” Anne agreed. “I have boxes for these in the back. Give me a minute and I’ll get them.” She came out from behind the counter. “I wrap for three bucks more.”

  “In that case, I’d like them wrapped.”

  TY WOULD BE GLAD when Madeline flew back to New York and he didn’t have to worry every time she took to the road.

  Or so he told himself when she drove in through the gate. He’d probably still think about her, but she wouldn’t be so close.He walked past the silversmithing shed without looking at it. He still wasn’t ready to go inside.

  She holed up in her house for the remainder of the day. He could see her through the window, working on her book, when he walked by. She must not have gotten any more bad news, or if she had she was keeping it to herself. He’d just finished washing his few dishes that evening when she knocked on the door.

  “Hi,” she said when he stepped back so she could come inside.

  “No troubles on your trip to town?”

  “I made it.”

  “I can see that,” he said as he closed the door. “Any news on the professional front?”

  “I think it’s all going to work out. My lawyer found new information and I have an alibi.”

  “Airtight?” he asked, thinking she should be happier at the news.

 
“Skip’s funeral.”

  Ty felt his barriers start to rise, but fought the reaction as best he could. He couldn’t shut down now. Madeline might need to talk.

  She studied his face for a moment, obviously trying to read him, before she said, “I’m going to be leaving in five days, and, well, here.” She pulled a box out of her pocket. “Something for you to remember me by when you feed.”

  Ty knew what it was. He’d received knives as gifts before, from his father and his grandfather. He also remembered the very nice display of Case knives Anne put up every Christmas.

  “I can’t accept this.”

  “Why?”

  “I appreciate the thought, Madeline, but…I can’t.”

  “Don’t you mean won’t?” Her chin jerked up, but she couldn’t hide the hurt in her eyes.

  He should have taken the knife and put it with the bronze. But if he’d done that he would have been perpetuating a situation he didn’t think would be good for either of them in the long run.

  “We barely know each other,” he finally muttered. Even if he wanted to know her better now that he’d scratched the uptight surface and found the tractor-racing woman below.

  “Do you honestly believe we’re nothing more than acquaintances?”

  He couldn’t bring himself to say yes.

  Point to her.

  “I can’t let it be more,” he said roughly.

  “I just want to be your friend, Ty. Why can’t we do that?”

  “Why are you making me spell it out?”

  “Because it’s eating away at you.”

  “Damn it, Madeline.”

  “I loved my brother,” she interjected hotly. “I think about him every day. I miss him. But I have learned to live without him, to accept what happened, even if I hate it.”

  “But you didn’t kill him.”

  His words didn’t have the effect he’d expected. If anything, Madeline looked angrier.

  “Quit doing this.” She reached up and grabbed him by the front of his shirt, twisting the fabric in her fingers, stopping just short of shaking him. “Get some help, Ty.”

  He took her wrists and pulled her hands away from his shirt. They dropped limply to her sides and she stared at him, her expression unreadable. He picked up the wrapped box from the counter and pressed it into her grasp.

  “I’ve taken enough from you already. I’m not taking gifts on top of it.”

  Madeline dropped the box back onto the counter, where it landed with a thunk. “No. You’re making excuses so you can keep flagellating yourself. Have fun, Ty.”

  MADELINE MARCHED BACK to her house through the darkness, wiping the back of her bare hand under her eyes, smearing angry tears across her cheeks, which in turn froze and burned. What was wrong with her? Why did it matter this much? And how was it that this guy could make her lose control? She prided herself on being calm and collected, even in a crisis such as losing her job.

  Okay, maybe she made the occasional instant decision, but she didn’t just snap, as she’d just snapped back there.Why did his pain feel so much like her own?

  Because she knew this pain too well. Knew that facing it head-on was the only remedy. It never went away, but the sharpness dulled to a level you could deal with. But Ty liked his pain sharp. He was honing it, keeping it at the cutting edge.

  She couldn’t help him, couldn’t force him to get help if he didn’t want to change.

  No more. It hurt too much arguing with him.

  TY THOUGHT THAT once Madeline left, once she accepted the inevitable, the worst would be over. Once again he was stunned by his own stupidity.

  The worst wasn’t over. He had to tell her the whole truth. Then it would be over. He went to the peg next to the door and got his coat. Alvin sprang to his feet, ready to go tackle whatever job was at hand.“You stay here,” Ty said. The collie’s ears drooped. “Trust me on this one,” he added, then let himself out the door.

  “Madeline,” he called as he stepped out onto the path between their places. She was halfway to her dark trailer.

  “What?” she yelled back, turning and putting her hands on her hips.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You’re certainly right about that.” She stomped on through the snow. Ty caught up with her in spite of the stiff knee. He took hold of her arm, stopping her.

  “Madeline…this is complicated.”

  “No kidding. Now leave me alone. You achieved your objective. I’m backing off and you can continue to wallow in your misery. Status quo is the name of the game.”

  “Shut up, Maddie. I don’t want to wallow in misery.”

  “What in the hell do you want?”

  “I want my old life back,” he said roughly.

  Fat snowflakes started drifting down, melting as they hit her face. Madeline wiped the dampness off her cheek. “You can’t have that. You have to start a new life. Deal with the accident.”

  “It wasn’t an accident.”

  Madeline drew back. “What do you mean?”

  “Skip didn’t want to keep driving that night. He wanted to stop, but I insisted. I wanted to get to my mom’s place instead of wasting fifty bucks on a motel. Fifty bucks. It was one of the only arguments we’d ever had. Skip was pissed, but gave in.” Ty stared past her at the darkened window, seeing his grim reflection looking back at him.

  “He made a decision. You didn’t tie him up and force him.”

  His eyes snapped back to her face. Her simple statement, spoken in such a cool, accepting way, made him want to throw something. “How can you be that cold?”

  “I’m not cold, Ty. I’m realistic.” She put up a hand. “I grieved. I grieved for a lost brother, a lost future. I grieved for the unfairness. I cried buckets.”

  Ty drew in a breath. “So why don’t you hate me?”

  “I did,” she said. “I hated you for months. But I bowed to reality, Ty. Long before we met. You wouldn’t have driven on had you known what was ahead. You weren’t drunk. You weren’t reckless. You wanted to get home for Christmas.”

  He felt as if she hit him. He opened his mouth to ask how she knew what he’d never confessed to another soul, when she said calmly, “Skip called me when you stopped for gas that night. Told me you guys would be at your mother’s house before morning.”

  Madeline waited for him to say something. What? What the hell could he say? He didn’t even know what to think right now.

  The snow was melting into her hair, dampening it, making it start to curl. And then, when he was about to go back to his house, to a nightmare, no doubt, she said softly, “Have you ever heard of forgiveness, Ty?”

  He couldn’t bring himself to answer. He turned and started walking, leaving Madeline alone in the snow.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  THE NEXT MORNING WAS appropriately gray and dreary. Madeline was still in bed, one arm draped over her eyes to combat the pressure of the headache she’d woken up with, when she heard the tractor start. Ty out on his lonely mission to care for the stock.

  He wanted to be alone. Alone was what he did best. That way he could stay in his own painful world.You can’t help someone who isn’t ready to help himself.

  But that didn’t mean you couldn’t hurt for them. He was cracking open old wounds that she’d already healed. Making her hurt again.

  Making her relive the pain herself, talk herself through it.

  If he hadn’t driven on instead of getting a room, then Skip might still be alive. But she didn’t know how he could have controlled having cows in the road on the far side of a curve. That could have happened at any time.

  The tractor revved once or twice, then he put it in gear, the noise growing louder as he left the barn.

  She could still see him walking away last night. Choosing guilt over forgiveness.

  Madeline rolled over, pressing her forehead against the cool leather of the sofa, pulling the sleeping bag up a little higher. Ty would turn the power on when he got back. She closed her eyes, fel
t the moisture of unshed tears—for her or for him?—and tried to ease her headache by going back to sleep.

  TY ENDURED THE DAY from hell, followed by the night from hell. Madeline stayed holed up in her house, probably writing her book. A few more days and she’d be gone, and it appeared as if she’d be hiding out until then.

  Since confessing to her, and finding out she’d known the circumstances all along…he was still dealing with that bombshell…he’d been unable to fall back into the old routine. His tried-and-true survival techniques didn’t seem to be working, perhaps because what he was experiencing didn’t feel so much like guilt as fear. But he wasn’t sure what that fear was.Fear of facing the truth, maybe?

  He’d faced the truth so often he felt as if it was engraved in his flesh. He’d made a mistake and killed his friend.

  Made a mistake.

  Ty believed in forgiveness—in theory, anyway—even if he hadn’t experienced a lot of it. His mother had never forgiven his father for leaving her, or herself for not holding on to him. His father had never forgiven himself for losing the last of the once vast family acreage down in the valley—the place where Ty used to visit every summer. His family were hard on themselves, hard on one another.

  He needed to be hard on himself. It was the only way he could face each day. Freaking survivor’s guilt.

  Ty paused. He’d never given it a name before.

  THE NEXT MORNING the cow was struggling in the sling.

  Okay. One small miracle. He built a panel fence around the animal, then released her. She was wobbly, but could use her hindquarters. Disaster had been averted and a valuable animal saved.He’d give her several days to regain her strength before he turned her back out with the others. Not that she’d minded being alone in the protection of the barn over the past two weeks. He’d reflected more than once on how unusual it was for a cow not to miss the herd. But hell, he didn’t miss other people.