Last Chance Cowboy

Shadow forced herself to gentle her tone. They’d had this discussion before, but to Shadow’s sorrow, nothing had changed. “Mama. How many times have I told you to sell that place?”

“It’s my home.”

Shadow suppressed a twinge of regret. Grey felt that way about his enormous ranch, which Shadow disliked as much as her family’s small farm, the modest house with its now-sagging roof, the cramped rooms where her parents had fought late into the night over every dime.

She shook her head. “Five acres of dirt, a bunch of chickens and a house that’s been falling down around your ears since I was in diapers.” And someone in that house, she thought, had always been in diapers.

“I own my house, free and clear. How many people can say that?”

True enough. Shadow had her brand-new mortgage to pay, a strong motivation to succeed with Mother Comfort. She murmured, “At least Daddy left you something.” Other than six children. Well, five now. For a time it had seemed her mother was pregnant every year. As the second oldest girl after her sister Jenna, Shadow had often helped with the youngest ones, giving bottles to Tanya and Cherry, wiping her little brother Derek’s grimy hands and runny noses while her dad did...almost nothing to help.

“He was a good man,” her mother said. “I loved your father.”

Another casualty, Shadow thought, of a man who couldn’t be counted on.

She took a deep breath. She didn’t want to hurt her mother, but she needed to get through to her somehow. “Obviously, you can’t keep that house up much longer, Mama. It’s become harder and harder since Daddy died. The house is old. It needs too much work. How about I come out soon? We can get it ready to sell. That property’s not worth much, but enough to give you a fresh start. Away from all those memories.” She didn’t have to mention Jared.

“I’m staying.” Her mother looked away. “We always did the best we could.”

“I guess.” But Shadow had gone to school with holes in her sneakers—they all had. The same shoes that pinched because they were two sizes too small. Shadow had felt like one of those women centuries ago with their feet bound till they couldn’t walk. Now she had a serious obsession with shoes. They were her one indulgence. Everything else went into her plans for the future. Shadow looked down at her newest pair of flats. “You don’t have to live that way now,” she said. “Did you never consider what Daddy was doing to us then?” And that didn’t come close to Shadow’s last memory of him.

“He couldn’t get good work.”

“No, or if he did, it was because Everett Wilson hired him back again.” She added, “I know you were in a difficult position, Mama.” Shadow had been in one, herself. She’d had to make hard decisions, which reminded her now of Grey and their meeting tomorrow. “But when I actually needed Daddy—”

“He shouldn’t have done that, but honey, we’d just lost Jared! That was Grey Wilson’s doing. You can’t blame your father for feeling like he did. That boy killed our son and I’ll never forgive him.”

Shadow couldn’t disagree. But this wasn’t about Grey. It was Shadow her father had hurt then. “Yes, and after that, Daddy wasn’t there for me.” She almost hadn’t come home for his funeral, yet she’d done so for her mother’s sake. And stayed.

Her mother rose from the steps. “People make mistakes. Grey Wilson sure did, and you just ran off—”

“Because,” Shadow said, fighting the urge to push her mother away when she also wanted to take her in her arms and comfort them both, “I had to.” Because, like Daddy, you wouldn’t help me, either.

As if she’d actually heard the unspoken words, her mother drew herself up. She stood barely over five feet, even when she squared her shoulders and stiffened her spine. Shadow had inherited her father’s height, but she had to give her mother credit for the courage that had failed Shadow earlier. Or was that her mother’s pride? Like Grey’s. “Forget I was here,” she said.

“Mama—”

She started down the steps. “I’ve made mistakes in my life, too. But at least,” she threw back over her shoulder, “I never abandoned my own baby.”

CHAPTER TWO (#u995d0323-f33c-51bf-a6be-3f279ccd2c50)

THE NEXT DAY at her desk, Shadow made a few calls, pored over several new applications for potential caregivers and mostly stared out the window again. She wasn’t getting much done. When she finally saw Grey’s pickup pull into a space in front of the agency, her anxiety ramped up another notch. Her mother’s words yesterday had only made that worse, all the more because, in some ways, she was right. As Grey walked into her office, every muscle in Shadow’s body tensed.

“Well?” he asked, sinking onto the chair in front of her desk. He wore a more familiar denim shirt, jeans and boots today. And, of course, the black Stetson, which he’d removed as soon as he opened the door. He balanced it on his knee.

Shadow pushed a pile of papers to one side and straightened the two ballpoint pens she always kept nearby. She folded her hands on the clean desktop but didn’t look at him. She glanced at the phone, almost willing it to ring, creating a delay. “I don’t know how to begin,” she said at last.

“Just tell me. Whatever it is.”

She made herself meet his gaze. “That would be best,” she agreed, wondering, even fearing, how he might react. “Grey, something else happened ten years ago. Something other than Jared.”

“Yeah,” he said. “You and I broke up—not for the first time.”

“For the last. And soon after Jared...died, I—” She cleared her throat, then rushed on, her heart a hard lump in her chest. She’d rehearsed these words but they stuck in her throat. “I discovered I was pregnant.”

Grey blinked. For a long moment he said nothing. Shadow watched a dozen emotions flash across his face. He turned the black hat on his knee in a circle. “Pregnant,” he repeated.

“Yes.”

His mouth hardened. “And you never told me.”

Shadow reached out a hand, but they didn’t connect. Grey sat too far away from her across the expanse of her desk and he’d pushed deeper into his chair, creating even more distance between them. “You’re right. I didn’t. I take full responsibility, Grey.”

“Well, that’s something. Now,” he murmured.

“I’m sorry. I know that sounds terribly inadequate, but at the time—because of Jared, too—I felt I couldn’t tell you.” She took a breath. “That was wrong of me.”

“And it’s still wrong. Ten years?” He shook his head. “I suppose you told your parents.”

“Yes.” Shadow had come home from school that day to find her father in his living room recliner, his “seat of business,” he always claimed.

“The TV was on,” she continued, “blaring some rerun of an old cowboy series. He watched the episodes over and over, like he was trying to relive his dreams of being a successful rancher. I could have recited the dialogue word for word, but I was too scared to even think. All day in class I’d dreaded telling him. It was only a week after Jared died.”

“How did you know?”

“I’d had some physical signs but tried to ignore them. At first, I thought my body was just reacting to all the anxiety, the grief. Then I...was late again, and I bought a test.” She remembered that night, locked in the bathroom while her youngest brother, Derek, banged at the door, saying it was his turn. “When my mother walked into the room and turned off the TV, my heart was beating like some ceremonial drum. I could hardly get the words out. ‘Daddy, Mama, I’m pregnant.’”

The test didn’t lie. At seventeen, Shadow had been about to become a mother.

Grey’s mouth twisted. He still didn’t look at her. “What did your father say?”

“His face got red and he gripped the arms of his chair—like he had to hold himself in place or he’d come after me. He stared me down. He guessed it was yours right away. I’ll never forget those horrible days.” Now she had added another, and inflicted it on Grey, too. Finally, he lifted his gaze, and Shadow refused to look away from his sharp, accusatory eyes.

“I told him you were the only boy I was seeing.” Not that they’d been together anymore by the time she’d had that conversation with her parents. She hadn’t had a chance to recover from their final fight, from Grey’s rejection. How could she, after seeing Jared lying so still and pale in his coffin.

“And your mom?”

“She said nothing at first. Then it was just, ‘Oh, Shadow,’ and she started crying.” Shadow swallowed. “My parents and I were alone in the room. I said a brief prayer of thanks that my sisters and Derek weren’t around. I’d seen him wrestling in the yard with a friend—he still hangs out with Calvin Stern—on my way in, and my sisters were heading for the henhouse to collect eggs.” The chickens’ squawking had shattered the last of her nerves, as if even they blamed her for what had happened.

Grey worried the crease in his hat. “Then what?”

Shadow closed her eyes, remembering her dad leaning forward in his chair, pointing a finger at her. “He said he wouldn’t have any more to do with that family, with you—” she sucked in a breath “—or anything belonging to you.” Shadow laid a protective hand on her now-flat stomach. “My mom was staring at him. I was shaking so hard. Not anything, I said. Anyone.”

“Prodding the tiger,” Grey muttered.

Her voice trembled, as it had then. “Daddy slammed back in his chair again, aimed the remote at the TV and told me to get out.”

“Your mother didn’t say anything? Even then?”