This Cowboy's Son

“No, he isn’t. Remember what happened when he got Scotty’s daughter pregnant? How Matt took off for a month and only returned after Elsa’s miscarriage?”

“That’s not a fair comparison. He was fifteen and running scared. He must have been twenty-five, twenty-six, when you got pregnant. He would have done the right thing.”

Jenny slapped the arm of her chair. “He was still the kind of man to leave a young woman after a one-night stand, in the middle of that night, and never bother to find out if she was pregnant.” Her voice rose. “He knew we hadn’t used birth control.”

“It was your responsibility to track him down and tell him.”

“True, and I would have if he’d been a different person.”

She’d heard him whisper that he loved her and it had set her heart soaring. She hadn’t asked, begged or cajoled. He’d offered it freely. She’d thought they were about to get their happy ending and had fallen asleep with a smile on her lips.

What a fool she’d been.

The following morning, Matt had left Montana. Why would he treat his son any better than he’d treated her? He was a man who raised hopes and then dashed them.

“You remember what Matt was like back then—even in his twenties,” she said, “fooling around with any woman who showed an interest. Lots of drinking on Friday and Saturday nights. Traveling with the rodeo whenever he could.”

“Jenny,” Angus said dryly, “you’re describing half the single men in the state.” He folded his arms across his chest and took his seat again, preparing to argue.

“Yes, but Matt seemed worse. His childhood was so unstable. He ran out on Elsa. He ran out on me. How could I trust him not to run out on Jesse one day?” She needed Angus to understand but couldn’t tell him how that “I love you” had been the answer to fantasies she’d woven around Matt for as far back as she could remember, since the first time she’d found him lying under the cotoneaster bushes on the hill, spying on her family and the ranch, his heart full of envy. She knew he’d loved the house and this land us much as she had.

She stood and spread her hands on the desk. “My son means more to me than anything on this earth. I would protect him with my life. I’m protecting him now.”

Angus shook his head. “Matt has a real decent streak inside him.”

“I know.” That was the part she’d fallen in love with as a girl. “But I don’t trust him. Jesse will fall for him and then Matt will leave. That’s always been his pattern. I know this in my bones, Angus.”

Jenny felt a headache throbbing against the backs of her eyelids. The fight left her and she sat back down.

Angus came around the desk and settled onto his haunches in front of her. He took her hands in his.

“Your fingers are like icicles.” He chafed them. “You have to tell him, sweetheart. It’s the right thing to do.”

She knew that and hated it.

“Angus,” she whispered, “I’m so scared. What if Jesse gets hurt?”

“I’ll be here. You’ll be here. We’ll make it all right for him.”

“But—”

“Talk to Matt,” he urged.

It was a losing battle and she gave in. “I’ll go pick up Jesse.”

“Where is he? At Hank’s?”

She nodded. “Don’t tell Matt anything while I’m gone. Promise?”

After Angus agreed, Jenny breathed a sigh and left the house.

Neither Matt nor Masterpiece was in the yard. The truck and trailer stood along the side of the stable. Obviously, Matt thought he was here to stay for a while.

Not if Jenny could help it.

CHAPTER TWO

JENNY JUMPED into her beater car and sped from the ranch.

Ten minutes later, she drove down the long driveway of the Sheltering Arms and pulled up in front of the house. The grounds were neat as a pin, as usual.

She walked to the nearest corral where a couple of mares chewed on the grass under the fence.

Jenny combed one horse’s mane with her fingers, and took comfort from the animal’s solid bulk.

She liked the simplicity of animals, of dealing with them. They had no problem offering loyalty and then sticking with it.

Children’s voices in the stable rose and fell in playful cadence. She thought she heard Jesse’s voice among them. He loved playing with the kids Hank brought to the ranch.

Her nerves hummed. Jesse didn’t know who his father was. She’d managed to dodge that bullet for four years now. He hadn’t asked yet, but he would.

When she and Angus married, she planned to tell her son that Angus was his father. Jesse would be satisfied with that. He loved Angus.

But what about when he got older, old enough to guess differently?

I’ll deal with that when it happens.

Jenny blew a soft breath through her lips. She had to believe her marriage to Angus would work.

A mess of poorly dressed kids ran out of the stable. Jenny approached them. Some kids had holes in the toes of their sneakers, or knees worn out of their pants. They all wore baseball caps with Sheltering Arms written across the front. They were inner-city children recovering from cancer and Hank Shelter was giving them three weeks of pure, unadulterated fun. Hank took in a pack of kids every single month, year-round.

Knowing their father’s drill by heart, Hank’s two children, four-year-old Michael and three-year-old Cheryl, led the pack. When Amy first came to the Sheltering Arms, a small girl was visiting who had become precious to both Hank and Amy. They’d been devastated when she died, and later named their daughter Cheryl in her honor.

Another little boy, with a head full of beautiful blond locks and long blond eyelashes that would do a girl proud, ran with them. Jesse. Jenny’s heart swelled, as it always did when she saw him.

“Jesse!” She waved and her son’s smile lit up his face. He ran across the yard and threw himself full force into her arms. Jenny caught him, laughing while she stumbled to keep her balance.

Oh, you rare gem. Oh, my little sweetheart.

She hugged the bundle of energy so hard he finally complained.

“Mo-o-om. I can’t breathe.”

Jenny loosened her grip and carried her son in her arms with his legs wrapped around her waist, like a little monkey.

She waved to Hank and his children.

“Hey, Jenny,” Hank called. Sometimes Jenny missed working for Hank. Sometimes she missed working with the children.