Chance McCall (7 page)

Today, it seemed hopeless. He kept ignoring her and the silent treatment she was receiving was breaking her heart. After the incident at the horse show, he’d dodged her with precision and determination.

“How’s it going?” she asked, smiling at Henry.

She rested her chin on her forearms and leaned against the top rail, watching the last of the mares being led out to the corral where Cheyenne was standing at stud.

“’Bout the same as usual,” Henry drawled. It didn’t take a mind reader to figure out what had been going on up at the house. And it was obvious from the look on his Jenny’s face that she was less than excited about the prospective son-in-laws her father had paraded through the Triple T. “How ’bout you?”

Jenny snorted. It was enough said.

Chance came around the corner of the barns. The surge of excitement at seeing her dimmed as he realized what she’d been enduring. She hadn’t been lying to him. After the array of men Marcus had paraded before her the other day, Chance had no doubts that he was serious. Marcus Tyler really was searching for a husband for his daughter. What hurt Chance most was the fact that Jenny didn’t seem to give a damn who won the prize, the prize being her. This passive Jenny was not the woman he knew.

“Is this the last one?” Henry asked, as Chance walked up beside them.

Chance nodded. The trio stood in silence as the mare was led to the impatiently waiting stallion, then whinnied apprehensively even though she was ready to be bred. Her shrill scream sounded of panic, and Jenny blinked back tears as she watched the powerful stallion dancing and circling the mare, finally cornering her as he mounted, biting sharply at the back of her neck as the mating began.

“What’s wrong, Jenny?” Henry asked. He’d seen the sudden spurt of tears and been shocked by the fact that she had then buried her head in her arms, refusing to watch what had always been commonplace for her.

“It doesn’t matter to Marcus whether or not I love the man I marry. It only matters that I live with him, sleep with him, and produce offspring…hopefully a boy. He’s never asked me if I liked any of these men, or even loved one. As far as Marcus is concerned, I’m just a damned brood mare for the Triple T. That’s what’s the matter. Dammit, Henry. He doesn’t even know me!”

Henry’s mouth twisted with concern as he turned to stare at Chance.

Chance returned the stare, unblinking, giving away nothing of the pain shooting through him.

Henry shrugged, patted Jenny awkwardly on the shoulder and walked away, unable to alleviate any of her fears. He’d like to punch Marcus Tyler in the nose. The man couldn’t see what was right in front of him. It was all up to Jenny. She was the only one who could stop Marcus, but she didn’t seem to give a good damn what happened to her. Henry sighed. He knew the reason why.

Chance’s heart swelled in his chest, making it harder to speak, to bring each breath painfully past the constriction in his throat. He saw the defeat on her face and knew it was because of him. She didn’t care about herself because she thought he didn’t care about her.

“Jenny…” His voice was low, the pain of her words sharper than a knife in his belly. There had to be a way to take away the horrible distance between them.

She stared up at him through a veil of unshed tears, for once allowing her vulnerability to show. “Unless you can say it, Chance McCall, don’t even talk to me.”

He knew instantly to what she was referring. And there was no way he was ever going to say the words aloud. If he did, there’d be no turning back. How could he tell her he loved her? What would he have to offer but a past full of ugliness and shame. And love? It was too small a word for the feeling he had for her.

She watched the pain and indecision sweeping over his face. Then he recoiled as if remembering himself…and his place. His mouth tightened and his fingers knotted into fists as he turned and walked away.

“Oh, Chance,” she whispered. “You’re going to be the death of us both. Why? God in heaven, why?”

“Jenny, I’d like you to meet Nelson Turnbull,” Marcus said. “His father and I grew up together back in Missouri. Imagine my surprise when Nelson showed up at the cattlemen’s dinner today as one of the speakers.”

“Imagine,” Jenny drawled, and limply shook the hand of the tall, sandy-haired man who was eyeing her breasts with more than normal interest. “So,” she said, willing to play their game, “exactly what do you do, Mr. Turnbull?”

“Nelson, please. And I’m a stockbroker from New York.”

Jenny recoiled inwardly. “How interesting,” she murmured. She walked over to the bar and got herself a glass of cola. “Anyone?” she asked, as she tipped her glass to her lips.

“I’d love a whiskey, neat,” Nelson said as he slid onto the cushioned seat opposite the bar.

“Nothing for me, thanks,” Marcus said. “I’ve got a few phone calls to make. I’ll leave you two kids to get acquainted and then maybe we could go out to dinner?”

“That would be great!” Nelson said. “My treat of course.”

“Of course,” Jenny muttered to herself, and let the sharp tang of the cola slide down her throat too fast. She coughed and gasped as quick tears stung her eyes. It was just as well. It was a good cover for the real tears that brimmed as she watched her father’s exit.

“We’ve just been set up,” Nelson said. It was the wisest thing he could have done. It took the edge off of Jenny’s resentment.

“It’s not the first time,” Jenny said, sliding the requested whiskey toward him with a skilled move.

“But I’d like it to be the last,” Nelson said quietly.

He stared at her, his pale green eyes mentally undressing the small but shapely heir to the Triple T.

He’d heard through the Dallas grapevine that Marcus Tyler was parading eligible bachelors through the Triple T. Gossip claimed the daughter was a looker, but gossip didn’t even do this woman justice.

Jenny had long ago left the scruffy urchin of her childhood in the Texas dust. She was a well-groomed, fashionable female with more than ample curves. Her shoulder-length black hair was perfectly cut and styled. Her face was china-doll perfect in features and proportion. But there was one aspect of Jenny that had remained the same over the years. Her wide, clear blue eyes missed nothing and, at the moment, were as cold as ice. She might look feminine, but she was still as tough as they came.

“So,” she asked, “where are you taking us for dinner? I’m not going to pretend you haven’t already made reservations. I need to know how to dress.”

Nelson tipped his glass in recognition of her astuteness and smiled.

“Dress up, pretty lady. We’re flying to Dallas. I’ve got the company jet. I’ll show you a night on the town you won’t soon forget.”

It was quite a distance from Tyler to Dallas by car but, by air, less than thirty minutes. This one was out to impress. It was no surprise to Jenny when Marcus came through the door moments later wearing a practiced look of regret.

“I’m going to have to beg off dinner. It seems a problem has come up that I can’t ignore. Have fun without me, okay?”

Jenny shrugged. It was to be expected. She’d go along for now. Maybe this one would be the trigger to ending Chance’s patience. She couldn’t believe he would let her marry someone else. Although she had no intention of letting it come to that, he didn’t know that. And she knew of no other way to break down his defenses.

Nelson didn’t even try to hide his elation.

Less than an hour later, Chance watched the couple leave. He stood on the front porch of the bunkhouse and watched the sequins sparkle on her dress. He heard the laughter in the man’s voice as he called back to Marcus, who was waving good-bye.

The pain that swept over him was almost more than he could bear. He staggered backward until his boot heels hit the side of the bunkhouse and stopped his momentum.

“Damn your sorry soul to hell, Logan Henry. If you’d only stayed on your side of the tracks…” The bitter regret echoed in his soft whisper, resurrecting a ghost who should have stayed buried.

Just for an instant, Chance felt the pain, and the shame. He closed his eyes and, once again, saw the blood, the fresh earth covering the grave…and felt the fire.

He leaned his head against the wall, balled his fingers into fists and, as he turned to go inside, swung viciously toward a face that hovered in his mind. Knuckles rasped angrily against the rough wood of the house as flesh instantly gave way to blood that flowed. But he didn’t care. The pain in his heart was far worse.

Jenny returned with daybreak. By afternoon, at Nelson’s persistent insistence, they’d gone riding. She was showing him her world and exactly what was expected from the future heir to this dusty empire.

Her heart was heavy, her smile a pasted affair that grew stiffer and less frequent as the day progressed. But she stood her ground.

She knew Chance saw everything they did and that kept her going. If he would just get jealous enough to make a move…

She caught herself daydreaming just in time to dodge a low-hanging tree branch. But her sharp warning was not enough to save Nelson from a bump on the head. His near-hysterical reaction made the horse bolt and it was only through skilled riding that Jenny saved him from a hard tumble into a ditch. His unreasonable anger and acute discomfort mirrored obvious incompetence. It only reminded her how out of place this man was on a ranch.

They rode into the stable area. Jenny was leading Nelson’s horse as he held a handkerchief to his head to stem the flow of blood. She stared pointedly at Henry who sauntered out to take their horses, and breathed a sigh of relief as the older man wisely made no mention of the wound. She looked around, hoping for a glimpse of Chance. He was nowhere in sight.

She sighed, swung her leg over the saddle horn and slid to the ground, then helped Nelson down from his mount.

“Have a good ride, Jenny?” Henry asked.

She sent Henry a frown he promptly ignored. “It was fine.” She grabbed Nelson by the elbow, herding him toward the house before any more remarks could be made. She wasn’t quite fast enough.

“A good shot of whiskey’ll take the edge off of that,” Henry called, and pointed toward Nelson’s makeshift bandage.

Jenny spun around and motioned wildly behind Nelson’s back as she pushed him toward the house. It was slightly humiliating to have gone riding with such a greenhorn, and she knew that Henry was chiding her for her choice of partner.

“Shut up!” she mouthed silently to Henry, and accentuated her warning with a sharp glare.

He grinned, tilted his hat, and led the two horses off to be brushed down, and then watered and fed.

“Oooh,” Nelson moaned, as he stumbled on the uneven ground.

He was humiliated and angry with himself. He wished he’d never set foot on Texas soil. The only thing that kept him going was the thought of bedding and wedding Jenny Tyler and investing all that money.

“You’ll be okay,” Jenny said. “I’ll get Juana to put an ice pack on it for you and then one of the men can drive you back to your motel in Tyler.”

“I don’t think I’m up to that,” Nelson mumbled, seeing an opportunity arising from the incident. “I’m going to have to impose on your hospitality. I’ll ask Marcus if I can spend the night. My head hurts too much to consider the drive.”

Jenny wished she’d never seen Nelson Turnbull, but it was too late for that. She’d already encouraged him more than she should have, simply by going out to dinner last night in such a flamboyant manner. Offering him a bed was the least she could do after almost leaving his head on that limb back in the pasture.

“Certainly,” she said. “There’s an empty bedroom next to Marcus. You two can talk business to your heart’s content.”

Upon entering the house, Marcus began an instant commiseration at the sight of blood.

Jenny stomped off to her room, stripped herself of her clothes, and spent the next twenty minutes standing beneath the shower crying mad. She wasn’t really crying, she told herself as she blew her nose with the washcloth. It didn’t count if she cried in the shower. The tears just washed down the drain.

She turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, blew her nose once more for good measure, and began to dry herself.
If Nelson Turnbull isn’t gone when I wake up tomorrow, I’ll send him down the damned drain, too
!

4

“
Jenny Tyler, where
are you going? Your daddy’s still got company at the table.”

Jenny jumped, startled and guilty at being caught slipping out of the kitchen door.

“You scared me,” she accused, glaring at the housekeeper who was standing in the doorway.

Juana glared back. “I’m waiting for my answer.”

Jenny sighed and slumped against the kitchen door. She eyed the stubborn expression on Juana’s face. She’d seen it before.

“I’m going for a walk,” she muttered. “He doesn’t need me,” she said, tossing her head toward the dining room.

“Marcus may not agree with you, young lady,” Juana argued. “You and I both know a certain young man at that table was invited especially for your benefit.”

Jenny bristled. “I’m well aware of Marcus’s invitations. They’ve been frequent and none too subtle. Nelson Turnbull wasn’t gone two days when this man was shoved in his place. Why does he do things like this? Doesn’t he think I’m capable of finding someone on my own? I don’t want to sit across the table from any more men who spend half their time flirting, and the other half wondering how much Marcus is worth.”

“Whatever he’s doing, you’re letting it happen,” Juana said.

Jenny blanched at the truth of Juana’s accusation. Still she argued. “I’m right and you know it. But he’s crazy if he thinks he can treat me like his damned breeding stock. I am no longer on the market. And, I’ll pick my own man.” With that, Jenny pushed her way out the kitchen door, letting it slam sharply behind her.

Juana sighed as she watched Jenny stomp toward the barns. She knew the true cause of Jenny’s anger had little to do with Marcus’s manipulations. Jenny had already picked out her man. He just wasn’t cooperating.

Chance stalked through the horse barn, angrily pushing a bucket back into place against the wall, muttering under his breath about the carelessness of the horse trainer who’d been hired less than a week ago. But he knew that the empty bucket wasn’t the cause of his discontent. He’d seen the arrival of fancy cars and well-dressed men over three hours ago. The knowledge that Marcus had just dangled another prospective son-in-law before Jenny’s eyes tore into his gut. The thought of another man with similar plans to those of the Walters men made him sick with fury. Why was she letting her father do this? The Jenny Tyler he knew would never stand for it.