“I had no idea.”
“Of course not.” Tracy crossed her arms. “You haven’t had much interest in anything concerning Dylan and me since high school. And the fact you’d believe a rumor started by my ex-husband to drag my reputation further into the dirt really hurts.” She spun away.
“Your father and I have always cared about you and your brother.”
Tracy faced her mother. “Right. If it hadn’t been for Maddie–”
“Stop right there.” Mom scowled and held up a finger. “I’ll admit I wish I’d been here when you found out about your first pregnancy, but you were supposed to be a responsible adult by then, too. You were supposed be working toward your medical degree. Not–” She swallowed and shook her finger. “Don’t you dare compare me with my stepmother.”
The French doors opened and her father, following two noisy ginger-colored Yorkies, stepped into the kitchen. Retired General Robert Quinn looked from Tracy to Eileen. “Am I interrupting one of those mother-daughter talks?”
“Yes.” Her mother glared at her.
“No,” Tracy said at the same time as her mom.
“Okay,” her father drew out in his East Coast accent and started moving across the kitchen. “I’ve been a soldier long enough to know to stay out of no-man’s-land. Goodnight, ladies.”
“Sit down, Dad.” Tracy looked at her mother. “Mom and I are finished.”
“Alright then.” Her father looked again from her mother to Tracy, obviously unconvinced. “Where’s Bobby?”
“Sleeping. He’s worn out.” She retook her seat across from her mother.
Tracy cringed when her dad chuckled and took a chair beside her mother. A team of interrogators couldn’t be more intimidating than her mother and father. “He and Cartwright’s little girl seemed to get along well.”
She jumped out of her chair and headed for the teakettle on the stove. Was there no escaping the topic of Zack Cartwright and his little girl? At first, Bobby hadn’t wanted to have anything to do with Amanda when she’d approached him while the adults danced and mingled after the wedding dinner.
“I think it was a combination of boredom on Bobby’s part, and Amanda’s determination in showing Bobby she wasn’t a sissy.” Tracy went about making her father a cup of the god-awful instant coffee he drank from the hot water still in the teakettle.
She returned to the table with the cup of the so-called coffee and asked her mother if she wanted more tea. Despite their tiff, Eileen was still Tracy’s mother, and she’d been raised to respect her parents. Her mother declined. Tracy refreshed her cup, set the kettle back on the stove, and returned to the table.
Her father took a sip of his coffee. “I enjoyed watching the kids. Amanda’s definitely a tomboy under the lace and frills.”
Once her mother finished her tea, she raised her brow and smirked at her husband. “You and Zack seemed to get along well.”
Dad shrugged and lifted the lid on a cookie jar in the middle of the table. “Zack’s came a long way from the days he played cowboy. He’s a good man.”
He removed five chocolate chip cookies, and her mom held up three fingers. He sighed and dropped one of the cookies back into the jar. “Damn shame about his being wounded, then losing his wife, but he seems to have bounced back and settled into civilian life. He told me he and his cousin Lance are seriously getting into the cattle business.” He dunked one of the cookies into his coffee and popped it into his mouth. “I guess when it’s in the blood, the ranching bug can’t be fought. Look at my own son. The Quinns have a military history going back to an aide de camp to General George Washington, but Dylan’s damned Texas blood is too strong. I’ll never understand the whole cowboy allure.”
“That’s because you’re a damned Yankee,” her mother teased in her best southern drawl and leaned toward him. She kissed him on the lips and winked. Then she took one of his remaining cookies, but he took it back by grabbing her wrist and plucking the cookie out of her fingers. She narrowed her eyes at him. “But I’ve never held that against you.”
He held up the cookie and popped it into his mouth around his smile. Her father’s gray eyes twinkled. He loved his wife with his entire being.
What Tracy wouldn’t do to have a man–have Zack–look at her that way, especially after thirty-eight years of marriage.
He swallowed the cookie with a sip of coffee. “Well, I’m glad that’s the only thing you haven’t.”
Tracy groaned and covered her ears with her hands. “Ugh! I’m gonna be scarred for life soon.” She loved her parents and admired their relationship. It hadn’t always been easy for them, not with her father away for months at a time and moving every few years when he was in the Army.
“Sorry, sweetie, I guess your daddy and I need to learn to behave ourselves.” Her mother bent and ruffled the fur of the two Yorkies sitting by her feet. “I think Ginger, Cinnamon, and I are going to bed.” She stepped in behind Tracy. “Goodnight, sweetheart.” With her eyes full of sorrow and her smile rueful, her mother patted Tracy’s shoulder.
Tracy smiled her forgiveness. “Goodnight, Momma.”
Her mother nodded once and headed out of the kitchen with the little dogs padding along on either side of her.
Several minutes of silence passed until her father asked, “So, what’s going on between you and the good sheriff?”
What was with her parents? Back when she and Zack actually had a chance at a future together, Mom and Dad hadn’t wanted them together. Now, they were all but planning their wedding. She looked down at the cup between her hands. “Nothing.”
“Why not?”
“You know very well why not.” She narrowed her eyes on her father.
He raised a brow and set his mug on the table. “I don’t think I do. You aren’t married. He’s a widower. And there’s no one who attended that wedding today who doesn’t know Zack Cartwright and you would’ve preferred to have been somewhere else instead of on the dance floor.”
She leaned back in the chair and laughed. “Well, you’ve got that right. We wanted to be on opposite sides of the state.”
“I meant somewhere alone–together.”
“Huh?” Zack had treated her like a leper.
Her father leaned over his arms with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “Do I really have to spell it out?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I don’t know what you and Mom think you saw, but I know Zack, and I know now that Dylan is okay, we’ll go back to avoiding each other. He has made it pretty damned clear what his opinion of me is.”
Shaking his head, her father sat back. “Tracy, I’m going to give you a piece of advice.”
“Why bother? You know I’m not going to take it.” She stood and carried her cup to the sink.
“This time I hope you do,” he softly said, and she looked over her shoulder at him. “I know you think there’s no future for you and Zack, but I think differently.”
She hurried toward the door to the hallway. She’d had enough of her parents thinking they knew something when they didn’t. Neither one of them had seen her since last Christmas when they’d come to Texas for a few days to celebrate the holidays. “Well, good for you, but I know better. Goodnight, Dad.”
“Tracy,” he said as she reached the door.
Against her better judgment she stopped. She drew in a breath and turned. Why had she been raised to obey that particular tone in her father’s voice? She crossed her arms.
He picked up his cup and her mother’s, and headed for the sink. “So, you’ve made mistakes. But if you’re given a second chance, don’t screw it up.”
“That’s your advice?” She clamped down on the rest of her retort. Nice that you’re such an expert on my life.
Her brother’s final words, as he left her on the dance floor, eerily echoed her father’s statement.
Depositing the mugs in the sink, he shrugged, then strode across the kitchen to her. He patted her on the shoulders and looked h
er in the eye. How could she be an inch taller than her father, even without her shoes, but still feel insignificant?
“Yes. I suppose it is, but I also think that advice could be taken for a lot of things. Not just concerning Cartwright. Are you really happy, Tracy Caroline?” Before she could process an answer, he kissed her on the cheek. “All I want is for you to be happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for both of my children. Sweet dreams, Pixie.”
She watched him leave through the swinging door into the hallway.
The last time he’d called her by the pet name had been when she’d clung to him before he boarded a plane headed to the first war in Iraq twenty-two years ago when she was twelve years old.
* * * *
Zack pulled the extended cab Ram truck into the two-car garage he’d built onto the log and limestone house. The old homestead had seen six generations of Cartwrights come and go. Cutting the engine, he looked over his shoulder at his daughter sleeping in her booster seat. It wasn’t incredibly late, but she and Tracy’s boy had played long into the evening.
He got out and opened the back door. After unbuckling the belt over Mandy’s seat, he lifted her into his arms.
“C’mon, baby girl,” he murmured and held her close to his chest. She moaned and wrapped her arms around his neck.
The house was dark and quiet as he carried Mandy down the hall to her bedroom. He pulled off her sodden shoes, laid her down onto the frilly pink comforter, and left her to fetch a damp washcloth from the bathroom.
When he returned, he wiped the worst of the grime from her face, arms, and legs. Her black hair tangled around the limp sleeves of her blue dress. The scuffed and wet white patent leather shoes were unsalvageable. He didn’t have much hope for the filthy frilly dress either.
While the adults had been enjoying traditional dances and the whole garter and flower throwing silliness, Mandy and Bobby had played in the water of the lake at the edge of the front yard. If he hadn’t wanted to escape after he’d caught the blue garter Dylan deliberately tossed to him and after Tracy had caught Charli’s bouquet, he might not have found the two kids to get them the hell out of the water.
Besides her newfound friendship with Bobby, Mandy had attached herself to Tracy in a way he’d never seen her do with any other woman. Not that Mandy had much opportunity to become close to women outside of his family. Other than her babysitters and Deputy Dawn Madison, Mandy wasn’t around too many females.
With the worst of the dirt off her and on the washcloth, Mandy awakened enough to help him remove the dress and slip a nightgown over her head. He took her hand and led her into the bathroom across the hall where he helped her brush her teeth, then attempted to untangle her snarled hair with a brush.
Giving up on the hair, he carried her back to her bed and tucked the blankets around her small body. She yawned and folded her hands over her chest. With her eyes closed, she murmured the age-old bedtime prayer recited by children everywhere. “Now I lay me down to sleep...”
He sat on the edge of her bed and smiled as she asked God to take care of every member of her family, including her pony and horse.
“And let Momma know I love her, and me and Daddy miss her.”
He prepared for the twist in his gut when she asked God to send her mother home soon.
“And finally, Baby Jesus, keep Miz Tracy and Bobby safe. Amen.” She opened her eyes and smiled lazily up at him.
He swallowed past the thickness in his throat.
“I thought I should stop asking God to send Momma back to us, since I know now she can’t come home. It might make her sad because she can’t. But I thought it would be nice to add Miz Tracy and Bobby to my list.”
His smile grew stiff. He remembered their conversion over the wedding dinner. The little wheels in Mandy’s head were working. She hadn’t included Tracy and Bobby into her prayer without considering possibilities Zack didn’t even want to think about.
“That’s nice. Bobby is your friend,” he said past the dry tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth.
She yawned and shrugged under the hideously pink bedspread. The ruffle must have tickled her chin, because she pushed it away. “I like Miz Tracy, too. She’s your friend, isn’t she?”
Tracy and him friends...fat chance. He hoped he never had to deal with her again. “I suppose.” He patted her covered chest. “Nighty-night, baby girl. I love you.”
“Nighty-night, Daddy.” She grinned at him. “I love you more.”
He leaned over her and kissed her forehead. “I love you ’til the cows come home,” he whispered, and into her arms placed the stuffed bunny Lisa had given to her when she was a baby.
“We aren’t missin’ any cows.” She giggled and hugged the raggedy stuffed animal. “So, none of ’em needs to come home.”
It was an old ritual. He chuckled and stood, giving her one last kiss on her forehead and feathered back her black hair. “Then I’ll have an even longer time to love you. Now go to sleep.”
She nodded, yawning again. He tucked the sheet and comforter around her. For several moments after he’d turned out the light, he stood by the door until her breathing evened into sleep.
He snagged a beer from the fridge, then made his way into the big master bedroom next to Mandy’s room. His grandparents had built on the master suite when they’d married. He’d completely gutted the bathroom and modernized it, much as he had the kitchen, when he’d moved in almost two years ago. He’d never be as good at carpentry as Dylan Quinn was. Dylan had practically rebuilt the old house on Butterfly Ranch, but Zack had learned from trial and error and called in the experts when he got in over his head. The work had helped him come to terms with living in a house he’d always dreamed of sharing with Tracy.
Like the rest of the house, the walls of the room were off-white and the wood trim aged oak, but the flooring was plush forest green carpet, which his feet sunk into as he crossed to the sliding glass door leading out onto the patio. He looked out over the darkened land. A horse whinnied in the distance, and from somewhere out on the ridge, a coyote howled for its mate. Stars twinkled overhead and the last of the season’s fireflies flickered in the tall grass, which he really had to find the time to mow.
He drank from the longneck bottle. How many times had he and Tracy lain on the bank of the lake out in the pasture with fireflies dancing around them?
He gulped down more beer and turned away from the yard. What the hell was wrong with him? She’d cheated on him with his best friend. Regardless of what Mandy was planning in that precocious little mind of hers, he was never falling in love again. It hurt too damn much when it all fell apart.
Setting the bottle on the patio table, he pulled his smart phone from his pocket and checked his voicemail. The only message was from his mother-in-law wanting to know if he’d considered coming to Wyoming for Thanksgiving.
He supposed he should think about it. The Fosters had only seen their granddaughter a half-dozen times since Lisa’s death two years ago, and for all of those times, they’d come to Texas. But he wasn’t ready to go back. He’d sworn he’d never set foot in Wyoming again after Lisa’s death.
Surprised not to have a call from his second in command, he dialed Dawn Madison’s cell number. She answered and he asked, “Madison, what’s going on?”
“Sheriff, it’s your day off. Why the hell are you calling me?”
“Because I am the sheriff and figure it’s my duty to know if the people who elected me are safe.”
“Well, other than watching Simms get fatter with each creampuff he stuffs into his mouth and listening to Grant complaining about not getting any, all’s well in Dodge.”
He winced and looked up at the starry heavens. Larry Simms was on his way to clogging his every artery. Zack tried to promote good health among his deputies, but Larry didn’t care. Zack only prayed the man didn’t croak on county time. The paperwork would be a bitch. Doug Grant wasn’t the only one not getting any, but Grant’s reason–his wife ha
d just had a baby–was a temporary one. There was definite light at the end of his forced celibacy tunnel. Zack’s was a black hole.
“So, are Kennedy and Timmons out on patrol?” he asked, even though he already knew the answer. “Those cattle rustlers are getting bold.”
“Boss, do you take me for an idiot?”
“Of course not.”
“Good. I wouldn’t want to think you doubted my abilities because I’m a woman.”
He laughed and shook his head. He was sometimes slow on the uptake, but he got the point this time loud and clear. “Madison, you and I both know I don’t think that.”
“Then why the hell are you calling on your night off?”
He sighed and picked up the beer. Because, besides my daughter, my ranch, and my job, I don’t have a life. “Take care, Dawn. Call me if you need backup.”
“Goodnight, Zack.” She hung up.
He slipped the phone into his pocket and finished off the beer.
As he glanced out over the last of the summer fireflies, Tracy drifted into his mind like a phantom. The huskiness of her voice, the sexy whisper of her laughter, the way she bit her lip when she was unsure of herself. With her heels, she was almost as tall as him. Could he still fit his hands the entire way around her waist as he had back when they’d dated? He clenched his hand at the surge of desire to try it sometime.
The dance they’d been obligated to share had been pure torture. The short blue dress showed off her long, long legs and the flawless, creamy skin of her shoulders. She smelled like sunshine and honey. He’d purposely held her away from him and refused to look at her. If he hadn’t done both, he honestly wasn’t sure what would have happened.
Gambling On a Heart Page 3