The Cowboy and His Baby

It’s time to come home. Kelly’s words echoed in his head, taunting him, reminding him that nothing would ever make this beautiful, sprawling Wyoming ranch into home. Lance Treethorn was a kind, decent man. He’d become a good friend. His daughters were real little angels and they treated Cody like one of the family. Even so, it wasn’t the same. Not that a little thing like being homesick mattered. Even though his heart ached for the life he’d left behind, he knew he could never go back. He’d rather eat dirt than get within a hundred miles of the traitorous Melissa ever again.

It had been over a year since he’d left Texas, eighteen months to be exact, but not even time had cured him of the rage that had sent him away from everyone and everything dear to him.

Mention Texas and he didn’t think of his beloved White Pines, didn’t think of his parents or his brothers, much as he loved them all. The only image that inevitably came to mind was of Melissa Horton. Sometimes not even an entire bottle of the best liquor in the store could blot out the memories of the woman who’d betrayed him with his best friend.

Even now the vision in his head of Melissa was so vivid he could practically feel the silky texture of her skin and the soft flow of dark auburn hair through his fingers. He could practically smell the sweet summer scent of her.

But along with the sensual memories came the blinding rage, as powerful now as it had been on the day he’d left Texas for good. Accompanying that rage was the anger and frustration of realizing that he was, in part, responsible for what had happened. Maybe if he’d told her he loved her, she wouldn’t have turned to Brian Kincaid in the first place. Maybe if he’d had a clue just how much she mattered to him, instead of taking her for granted, he wouldn’t be lying awake nights aching for her. He’d been a fool. She’d been a cheat. Quite a pair, the two of them. Maybe he deserved to be this miserable. She certainly did, though he had no idea if she was. She could be happily married to Brian now, for all he knew.

Before he’d realized what he was doing, he’d ripped the note inviting him to the baptism of Jordan and Kelly’s baby to shreds. He couldn’t allow himself to be tempted back, not even by something as important as this. He would not go back to Texas. Not now. Not ever.

The decision was firm, but it left him feeling heartsick and more lonely than he’d ever felt in his life. He was almost glad when the ring of the phone shattered the silence. He grabbed the receiver gratefully.

“Hey, boss, what’s up?” he said, knowing it would be Lance Treethorn on the other end of the line.

The widowed father of three young girls, Treethorn had his hands full with trying to run the ranch and raise his daughters to be proper young ladies. He’d succeeded with the oldest. Janey was as prim and proper and dutiful as a father could ever want, but the two younger ones, ten and twelve, were terrors. Cody didn’t envy the thirty-five-year-old man trying to get them raised and married without calamity striking.

“We got the herd rounded up today,” he told Lance. “We only lost one more to the cold.”

“Thanks, Cody, but I didn’t call for an update.”

Something in Lance’s voice triggered alarm bells. “What’s wrong?” he asked at once. “Are there problems with the girls?”

“No, it’s nothing like that. We’re all fine, but you had a call here at the house.”

“I did?” He’d given the Treethorn number only to Jordan, with a direct order that it never be used except for a dire emergency. He knew his brother would never break that rule. His heart thudded dully as he waited for whatever bad news Jordan had imparted.

“Call home,” his boss told him. “It sounded pretty urgent. Your brother asked how quickly I could get a message to you. Obviously Jordan still doesn’t know you have a phone in your cabin.”

“No,” Cody admitted, grateful that his boss had never asked why he insisted on having such a buffer between him and his family. Lance was the best kind of boss, the best kind of friend. He was scrupulously fair. He lent support, but never asked questions or made judgments. There had been no hint of criticism in his voice when he’d commented just now on Cody’s decision to keep his private phone number from his family.

“I’m sorry he bothered you,” Cody apologized anyway.

“You know damned well it’s no bother. I just hope everything’s okay at home. Give me a call if there’s anything I can do to help.”

“Thanks, Lance.”

Cody hung up slowly, thinking of the tiny picture that he’d placed in his wallet only moments earlier. Had something happened to Justin James? Or to Kelly? Why else would Jordan call? Damn, but he hated being so far away. What if…He allowed the thought to trail off.

“Stop imagining the worst and call,” he muttered out loud, finally forcing himself to dial his brother’s number, knowing that this call, whatever it was about, would shatter whatever distance he’d managed to achieve from his past.

Jordan picked up on the first ring. His voice sounded tired and hoarse.

“Hey, big brother,” Cody said.

“Cody, thank God. I was worried sick you wouldn’t get the message for days.”

Jordan, the most composed man Cody had ever known, sounded shaken. The alarm bells triggered by Lance’s call were clanging even louder now. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s bad news, Cody. Real bad.”

Cody sank onto a chair by the kitchen table and braced himself. The last time Jordan had sounded that somber was when their brother Erik had been killed in an accident on Luke’s ranch.

“Is it Dad?” he asked, hating even to form the words. Harlan Adams was bigger than life. He was immortal—or so Cody had always tried to tell himself. He couldn’t imagine a world in which Harlan wasn’t controlling and manipulating things.

“No, he’s fine,” Jordan reassured him at once, then amended, “Or at least as well as can be expected under the circumstances.”

“Dammit, Jordan, spit it out. What the hell has happened?”

“It’s Mother,” he began, then stopped. He swallowed audibly before adding, “She and Daddy were out riding this morning.”

He paused again and this time Cody could hear his ragged breathing. It almost sounded as if Jordan were crying, but that couldn’t be. Jordan never cried. None of them did. Harlan had very old-fashioned ideas on the subject of men and tears. He had set a tough example for them, too. He hadn’t shed a single tear when Erik died. He’d just retreated into stony, guilt-ridden silence for months after the loss of his son. The rest of them had coped with their grief dry-eyed, as well. If Erik’s death hadn’t caused Jordan’s cool, macho facade to crack, what on earth had?

“Jordan, are you okay?” he asked.

“No. Mother took a bad fall, Cody.”

Cody felt as if the blood had drained out of him. Hands trembling, he grabbed the edge of the table and held on. “How is she? Is she…”

“She’s gone, Cody,” Jordan said with a catch in his voice. “She never woke up. She was dead by the time the paramedics got to the ranch.”

“My God,” he murmured, stunned. Forbidden tears stung his eyes. Ashamed, he wiped at them uselessly. They kept coming, accompanied by a terrible sense of loss. “Are you sure Daddy’s okay? Why aren’t you with him?”

“Luke and Jessie are over at White Pines now. Luke’s got the funeral arrangements under control. Kelly and I will be going over right after I get off the phone. I wanted to stay here until you called back. How soon can you get here?”

Cody noticed his brother asked the question as if there were no doubt at all that he would be coming home. “I don’t know,” he said, struggling between duty and the agony that going home promised.

Disapproving silence greeted the reply. “But you will be here,” Jordan said emphatically. “I’m telling Daddy you’re on your way.”

Cody rubbed his suddenly pounding head. “I don’t know,” he repeated.

“Look, this is no time to be indulging in self-pity, little brother,” Jordan snapped impatiently. “Daddy needs you here, probably more than he needs any of the rest of us. He’ll need you to take up some of the slack at White Pines while he pulls himself together. He’s always depended on you. Don’t let him down now.”

Cody said nothing.

Jordan finally broke the silence with a sigh. “We’re scheduling the funeral for Saturday,” he said. “Be here, Cody.”

He hung up before Cody could reply.

Cody sat in the gathering darkness, silent, unchecked tears streaking down his cheeks. He had no choice and he knew it. Mary Adams might not have been the kind of warm, doting mother a child dreamed of, but Harlan Adams had worshiped her. He could not let his father go through this kind of grief without all of his sons at his side. It was the kind of loyalty that had been ingrained in him since birth. As badly as he wanted to pretend it didn’t matter, he knew better. Nothing mattered more at a time like this.

He took some small comfort in the odds that said he would probably never even see Melissa. He doubted she would have the nerve to show up at the funeral. She certainly wouldn’t have the audacity to show up at White Pines afterward. It would be okay. He could slip in and out of town before temptation overtook him and he sought out so much as a glimpse of her.

At least, that’s what he told himself on the long, sad drive back to Texas after he’d cleared his departure with Lance. He’d chosen to drive to delay his arrival as long as possible. Maybe to come to grips with what had happened in private. He’d spend a few days with his family to grieve. A few days to do whatever he could for his father. A few days to spoil his nieces and hold his brand new nephew. A few days to soak up enough memories to last a lifetime.

With all that going on, Melissa would be the last thing on his mind.

The very last thing, he vowed with grim determination as he finally turned into the lane to White Pines.