by Pam Crooks
The risk.
Tru reached out, gripped her chin gently, and turned her toward him. “I intend to make a name for myself with him, Juliette. Ryan, too. If it’s the last thing I ever do, the McCords will be respected. Most of all, trusted. And if I get rich in the process, well, that’s even better.”
His dark, grim gaze held her transfixed. Time fell away, and the pain of his past loomed up, sucked her in, swallowed her whole. All his life, he bore the shame of his father’s reputation as a two-bit gambler. He’d been abandoned by his prostitute mother. Lived a hand-to-mouth existence with his younger brother.
Through it all, he survived. Kept on surviving, even after Father set out to destroy what little he had. He’d grown into a man who took responsibility seriously. He loved hard. Worked hard. He knew what mattered most in life.
And it wasn’t money.
Tears stung Juliette’s eyes. Perhaps James McCord hadn’t been a failure, after all.
She couldn’t say the same about Avery Blanchard. Or herself. Father and daughter, both driven by a need to achieve prominence in the business world, where their career and the desire to be important consumed their every thought and action.
At what expense to the people they loved most?
“So now you know why I’ll never sell my land to you, Juliette,” Tru said. “No matter what you say or do.”
She held his gaze and thought of the challenge he’d made. “Not even if I married you?”
“Not even then. If you decide to marry me, I’m going to make sure I’m the reason, and not your fancy hotel.”
All along, he never had any intention of allowing her resort to be built on his three hundred acres. Had he known her better than she knew herself? That she, a Blanchard, would never marry a McCord?
He’d outwitted her.
Or had he?
A strange calm settled over her, an acceptance of the way things would be between them.
“Well, then, Tru McCord, it appears this discussion is closed,” she said.
His mouth tightened. “Seems so.” He placed a hand at the small of her back and nudged her away from the bull pen toward the cabin. “C’mon. We’d best head back into town. Maybe Ryan and Camille left a message for us at the Paxton.”
But there they were, quite unexpectedly standing at the corral, staring at the cows inside, and Tru and Juliette stopped short.
Ryan’s face split into a wide grin. “Woo-hee, Tru! We got twins!”
“Born just before dawn,” he said with a slow nod. “Healthy as can be, too.”
Pride shone on Ryan’s features. Tanned, dark-eyed and lean, the resemblance to his older brother couldn’t be denied. “Makes three babies now and more coming. Got a good start on our new herd, don’t we? Real good.”
“Where’ve you been, Ryan?” Tru asked. “Juliette’s been worried sick about you two.”
The grin faded. “Reckon so, and I’m sorry. It couldn’t be helped.”
“She was entitled to an explanation of your intentions. We both were.”
“Please don’t be angry with him, Tru.” Camille stepped forward as if to shield Ryan from the scolding. “It was I who refused to leave word of our whereabouts.”
“Why?” Juliette asked. “To prove your independence to me?”
Camille swung toward her.
“Yes,” she said, her chin jutted and held high, like a warrior prepared for battle.
A battle Juliette had no intention of fighting. Not anymore. She inclined her head. “In that you succeeded. You look well, by the way.”
Happy, too, judging by the glow in her cheeks. Nor looking frail. Or small. She carried herself with confidence, as if pleased with the turn her life had taken. She wore one of her newest dresses, her hair upswept and perfectly curled. Wherever Ryan had taken her last night, she’d been well cared for.
Some of the fight seemed to leave Camille. She eyed Juliette warily. “Better than you, I think.”
Juliette tucked a hank of loose hair behind her ear. At least her coat hid the wrinkles in her dress. “I came out here in a bit of a rush last night.”
“It was late. I wouldn’t let her ride back to the Paxton,” Tru said. “She had nothing with her but the clothes on her back.”
Camille’s eyes widened. “So you spent the night here.” Her glance bounced between them. “Just the two of you?”
“Yes.” Juliette refrained from explaining any more than that. More important questions demanded to be answered. “I’m not sure how I should address you this morning. Are you still a Blanchard? Or are you Mrs. Ryan McCord?”
Ryan slid a protective arm around Camille’s waist. “I want her as my wife more than anything, Miss Blanchard. We’ve talked about things a long time. The past, mostly. The future, too. We’re not going to let what happened between our parents stand between us. Not like you and Tru did.”
Tru shifted and scowled. Dismay curled through Juliette. Why hadn’t she and Tru possessed the wisdom and determination their siblings did?
“But we’re not married,” Camille said softly. “Not yet. Oh, Juliette.” Lip quivering, Camille threw her arms around Juliette and held on tight. “A wedding is a woman’s most special time in her life, and I do so want to share it with you. I couldn’t bear to get married without you there to witness it. I just couldn’t.”
A lump of emotion welled in Juliette’s throat. A long moment passed before she could speak. When she was sure she could manage it, she set Camille gently away.
“Does this mean I can’t be narrow-minded anymore?” she asked and smiled.
“Absolutely not.”
“Ryan, we’ve got some chores to do,” Tru said. “Now’s a good time to get them done.”
Ryan frowned, dragging his stare off Camille. “What chores?”
“Fresh hay and water. Needs to be done every day. You know that, and this one’s no different.” Tru clamped a firm hand on his brother’s shoulder. “C’mon.”
Head down, Ryan complied with a low grumble, and Juliette was grateful for the privacy Tru gave her. She slipped her hand into Camille’s and led her away from the stock pen and across the yard.
“I know you’re wondering where we stayed last night,” Camille said.
“I am.”
“You needn’t have worried about us, you know. Ryan is the perfect gentleman.”
“How am I to know that when you ran off without giving me a single hint of where you’d be?”
Camille wrinkled her nose. “I was feeling stubborn, I guess.”
“Imagine that.”
She shrugged. “We stayed at a boardinghouse. I don’t even recall the name of it, but some friends of the McCords own it. It was very clean and nice. Nothing like the Paxton, of course. But nice.”
“And?” Juliette’s brow arched.
“We had separate rooms, if you must know. I paid for my own from the allowance you gave me, even though Ryan didn’t want me to.” She leaned forward. “You needn’t worry, dear sister. My virtue is still intact.”
“Thank goodness for that, at least.”
Given the McCord virility, any woman would be hard-pressed to keep from giving herself to either one, even without benefit of marriage.
Herself, included.
Camille cocked her head. “What of you, Juliette? You seem to be getting along well enough with Tru. How was your night with him?”
“Well, I slept in his room.” She paused a moment, letting it dangle to incite her sister’s curiosity. “In his bed.”
Camille gasped and pressed a hand to her breast. “You didn’t! The two of you?”
“It wasn’t what you think.” She sighed her regret. “I was alone the entire night. Tru slept in Ryan’s bed. I woke up with my virtue intact, too.”
Camille’s eyes sparkled. “And I’ll bet he kissed you, too, didn’t he?”
An instant blush sprang to Juliette’s cheeks. “That’s none of your business.”
“He did. I can tell. Don
’t even try to deny it.”
“Oh, Camille. He did.” She fanned herself. “Oh, my, the man can kiss.”
They both burst into laughter, and arm in arm, they strode across the yard and returned to the corral. Tru set aside his pitch fork and rested it against the metal rails.
“They’ve been laughing, Ryan.” Tru drew closer to the fence. “A good sign there’s no hard feelings.”
After filling a trough, Ryan tossed the water bucket aside and quickly joined Tru at the rail. “What’s so funny?”
“Woman’s talk, that’s all.” Camille winked, assuring Juliette their conversation was safe. “Men aren’t allowed to hear it.”
The brothers exchanged an amused glance, then Tru gave Ryan an encouraging nod. “This might be as good a time as any to say what you’ve got on your mind.”
Juliette’s heart began a slow pound. This was it. The moment she’d been expecting, and, for her sister’s sake, she managed to smile in readiness of it.
Ryan climbed over the rail, took Camille’s hand, and threaded her fingers with his. “Miss Blanchard, I want you to know I love Camille more than anything. I give you my word I’ll take care of her to my last breath. Doesn’t matter to either of us that she’s a Blanchard and I’m a McCord. Main thing is, we want to be married.” There seemed to be no apprehension in him. Ryan knew what he wanted, and he was willing to fight the odds to get it. “It’d mean the world to Camille and me if you’d give us your blessing.”
Juliette thought of Father and the hate that consumed him. She thought of Mama and the mistakes she’d made for a man she never should have loved. And she thought of Tru, who rose above it all, who instilled his ideals and honor into his younger brother and helped him grow into the person he was.
Camille was fortunate to have Ryan’s love. How could Juliette deny either of them?
She reached out and covered their joined hands with her own. “On one condition.”
Ryan and Camille didn’t move, didn’t breathe. What did they think she’d say? After the honor and respect they both showed toward Juliette, Tru, and each other?
Her heart lifted and swelled within her chest. “You must promise to always call me Juliette. After all, we’re going to be a family now.”
Chapter 8
“Thank you,” Tru said quietly.
The cabin’s door latched firmly behind Ryan and Camille, allowing them to be alone inside to celebrate their betrothal in private. Juliette tilted her head back to Tru.
“It would be a travesty to trouble their marriage with anything less than my complete approval,” she said. “I’ve no right to hamper their happiness, though God knows I’ve tried.”
“Considering all Avery kept hidden from you, it’s understandable your opinions of the McCords were what they were.”
Tru’s insight, his wisdom, humbled her. He, too, had been hurt by hard-hitting Blanchard ambition. And still he welcomed Camille into his life without reproach.
“Ryan will take care of her, Juliette. We’re not rich, but we’ve got plenty to eat and a strong roof over our heads. Folks around here are friendly. She’ll fit in as his wife with no problem.”
“I know.” Juliette sighed.
“Omaha’s not as big or fancy as New York, but she’s got the best of both worlds here. A trip into town will get her all she needs. Doctors, included. And she’ll have the advantages of clean living out here on the ranch.”
“Yes. You’re right, of course.”
“So why are you still worried?”
“I’m not. Not really.”
He appeared skeptical. “Hard to let her go. I know.”
She drew in a shaky breath. “It scares me, actually.”
He seemed about to say something, then thought better of it. Climbing out of the pen, he extended an arm toward her. She took his hand, and he pulled her to his side.
“What’s next, Juliette?” he asked. Keeping her fingers entwined with his, he lifted her hand to his lips and dropped a single kiss to her knuckle.
Her heart squeezed at the simple intimacy. Didn’t he know? Didn’t he realize the McCords won? That she would never build her prized hotel on his land? That she lost Camille? That she had no choice but to go back to New York and start over?
“Everything has changed,” she said. “I’ll have to re-think my options, of course, but...”
It’d been on her tongue to say ‘I’ll find a way,’ but what if she didn’t? With the failure of her resort project, the Waite and Caulkings architectural agency would refuse her dream to become a female partner. Since Charles Hatman and Stephen Dunn had pulled out of the deal, she lost her financial backing. Aunt Louise’s reputation was compromised, too. And all the hard work from the past three years was for nothing.
Yet worst of all was the knowledge no one needed her anymore. Not Camille or Ryan. And certainly not Tru, already on his way to becoming a respected stockman. He didn’t need her hotel’s money to find his success. He would do it all without her.
“I have something to show you, Juliette,” Tru said.
Her troubled thoughts gave way to curiosity. He led her toward the front of the cabin where Ryan had parked their buckboard wagon.
“Are we going somewhere?” she asked.
“Yes, but not far.”
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see soon enough.”
Her curiosity increased tenfold. “We should tell Camille and Ryan our whereabouts.”
“Ryan will know where I’m taking you.” Tru helped her climb up into the driver’s seat.
“A conspiracy among brothers, then?”
A corner of Tru’s mouth lifted. “Something like that.”
After joining her on the bench, Tru took the reins and released the brake. They rode off McCord land, heading east as they circled the oxbow-shaped lake which Juliette had fallen in love with so long ago. They pulled up somewhere on the other side, and Tru halted.
“Ever seen the lake from this angle before?” he asked.
“No.” Her perusal soaked in the thick growth of cottonwood and elm trees, the sprawl of the land with rolling bluffs beyond—not so different, really, than the McCord side. No roads led to this area, and it appeared virtually untouched by human hand.
“The Missouri’s that way.” Tru pointed east. “Steamboats bring folks and supplies in on a regular basis.” He pointed again, tugging Juliette glance to follow. “Union Pacific’s that way. West. Their trains haul passengers and supplies, too. Plenty of good, maintained roads leading from Omaha. Travel’s not a problem, except in the worst of weather.”
“Yes,” she said. The very things that had led to her decision to choose Tru’s land for her hotel. From a businessman’s perspective, each one was crucial for the success of the project.
“Council Bluffs, in Iowa, is just south. Not far at all. I’ve lived here my whole life, Juliette, and I know for a fact they don’t have a resort hotel around these parts. Anywhere.”
Her pulse began to pound. She was afraid to think. To hope.
“What are you saying, Tru?” she whispered.
He slid his arms around her, pulling her against him. “I’m saying build your hotel here. On this side of the lake. Might be you won’t have to change your design much. Maybe not at all.”
She clutched at his chest. “But the land’s not for sale. I already checked with Charles Hatman. He would’ve told me if it was.”
“Not for sale, no,” Tru said, lowering his head and nuzzling her hair, her neck. “But if you offer the same top-dollar price you offered me, it will be. I guarantee it.”
“How can you be sure?” She held on tight to hope, refusing to let it fly free.
“I know the rancher who owns it. Gaylene’s father. He’s had rheumatism for years. Been wanting to slow down and spend his winters in Arizona. The money you pay him would get him there.”
“But what if you’re wrong?”
“I wouldn’t tell you all this if I was
n’t sure I was right.” He drew her earlobe gently between his teeth and nibbled. Juliette’s eyes closed to savor the sensation. “I’ve got plans to build a house. With Ryan getting married, there’s no room for me in the cabin. Just say the word, and I’ll include an office for you.”
Her eyes popped open, and she drew back. “An office?”
“No reason why you can’t design your buildings from here, Juliette. Might be that architectural agency which means so much to you would let you work for them in Nebraska. If not”—he shrugged—“you can always start your own.”
“My own agency,” she breathed.
“We’ll all be right here. Camille and Ryan. Your career.” For the first time, he appeared to hesitate. “And me.”
Tru McCord was not a man who acted rashly. Everything he did followed a good deal of thought and preparation. Had she been on his mind so much? Had he pored over every possible solution he could think of to keep her in his life?
Yes, certainly he had, and the knowledge swelled her heart with a rush of happiness.
“I love you, Juliette. From the time I first met you outside that grocery store, I’ve loved you.”
“Yes.” She knew it. Felt it. Rejoiced in it. “I meant it when I said I’ve never stopped loving you, Tru. I worked hard in New York to forget you. My building designs were my salvation. They kept me from dying inside.” Her arms curled around to his broad back. She ached for his kiss, to have his body pressed along every inch of hers. “I walked away from you once. I can’t bear to leave you again.”
“Then don’t. Marry me so you never will again.”
Elation soared through her. “Yes. Oh, Tru, yes. I will.”
His love had righted her troubled world in more ways than she could’ve imagined, and she would spend the rest of her life in complete devotion to him. His mouth took hers, hard and hungry, proclaiming his own devotion in ways words never could.
Long, deliciously hot moments later, his head lifted.
“Can’t think of a better time than Christmas in Nebraska to have a wedding,” he said. “Can you?”
“There’s nothing I’d like more.” She kissed him again and thought of Camille and Ryan. Of roses in winter, too. She smiled. “Except maybe a double wedding.”