Cowboy Come Home (12 page)

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Authors: Janette Kenny

BOOK: Cowboy Come Home
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“What happened to her?”
He shook his head, his expression scaring her now. “Don’t know for sure. I’m guessing a rich Texan adopted her and claimed her as his own.”
She reeled back, knowing he implied that’s what had happened to her. “If so, I hope she is with a good family.”
And if that rich Texan was Jared Barton?
Daisy’s stomach quivered with unease. It made sense if she was the orphan. It explained part of the odd snatches of memory that plagued her.
Yet it hurt to think that her daddy wasn’t really her father. That he’d lied to her all her life. Why would he do such a thing? Was he afraid that one day she’d go looking for her blood kin? That she’d leave him?
Did she have a brother looking for her? One that Trey March knew well and called his foster brother?
The possibility rocked her to her soul. If she was Dade Logan’s sister, that bond between brothers would surely be tested if the whole truth about her and Trey ever came out.
 
 
The next morning, Trey walked Daisy back to the house after they’d laid Sam Weber to rest. He’d said no more about his suspicions that she was Dade’s sister, but he was more certain than ever that she was.
It surely put him in a fix, for Dade wouldn’t take kindly to knowing that he’d taken Daisy’s innocence. That he was right now trying to work a deal with her to own this ranch.
Take kindly?
Hell, Dade would kick his ass ten ways to Sunday if he ever found out. Just like Trey was doing to himself right now.
A man was judged by his word, and there was a time when the three brothers had made a blood vow to protect one another and Daisy should they ever find her. Trey had done just the opposite.
Never mind that he hadn’t known her identity at the time. When he’d first heard the big boss’s daughter’s name was Daisy, he’d been reminded of Dade, who constantly spoke of his lost sister. He hadn’t looked beyond that, because he hadn’t wanted to dredge up his own painful memories of his youth spent in an orphanage. Of folks coming by from time to time and looking past him. Of knowing he’d been unwanted by his own family.
He’d ignored any niggling in his mind when Daisy had told him she’d lost her memory of her earliest years. Or he’d tried to ignore it.
Fact was, once, when he was taking a rest from mucking out the stalls, he’d overheard Daisy ask her pa about the fall that had blotted her early memories from her mind. She had sounded desperate to know what had happened.
Barton had simply told her there was nothing to tell, that she’d taken a spill and hit her head. The doctors claimed there was nothing that could be done to bring back her memory. In fact telling her specifics about her early years could do more harm.
Trey couldn’t imagine why, but he’d never heard the subject brought up again. At least Daisy hadn’t commented on it. She didn’t argue either, which was typical of her.
Daddy’s girl. She did what he wanted.
Except where Trey was concerned. Their dalliance had remained secret. Or so he’d thought.
He’d seen her one more time before he’d been waylaid. And yep, she’d been on his mind then.
Hell, who was he kidding? She was always on his mind. He’d gone from lusty thoughts of her to thinking about getting back at her and Barton. Now?
Now was a whole other thing to consider, because he wasn’t sure if Daisy Barton was really Daisy Logan. It was so much easier to think of her as Barton’s daughter, but this business about her recalling a brother named Dade just wouldn’t let go.
She couldn’t have plucked that name out of thin air. It had to have meaning for her, even if she didn’t remember why. That left one logical thing.
She was his foster brother’s sister. The girl that he and Reid had promised to help find. The girl sent west on an orphan train.
Trey sure as hell had done more than find her!
Now that he and Daisy had history together, it was anyone’s guess what he should do with her.
He cast her a sideways look, noted the slump to her narrow shoulders, and let a stampede of curses gallop across his mind. There was only one thing he could do—get word to Dade.
Even that had to be thought out. He sure couldn’t write,
Dear Dade: I think I found your sister. Didn’t know it was her until after I’d had a roll in the hay with her ...
Yep, if he told his foster brother the truth, he’d likely find himself the guest of honor at a shotgun wedding. Didn’t matter that he wasn’t the marrying type. Dade would demand he do the honorable thing.
So why don’t you?
If he married Daisy, he’d own both ranches. He wouldn’t have to scrimp and save and slave. Hell, that’s what Ned had had in mind.
Just the idea of another man romancing Daisy piqued his temper. He didn’t like that possessive streak in himself any more than he liked the idea that his and Daisy’s destinies would twine together into something binding.
Of course, there was a good chance Dade would take one look at Daisy Barton and say she wasn’t his sister. Then the only guilt eating at Trey would be his own for romancing Daisy in the first place.
Yep, he had to get word to Dade. Best chance he had of finding him was to send a letter to the Crown Seven. Hopefully Dade was there, holding on to his shares of their legacy.
If so, he’d hightail it down here. The rest would depend on if Daisy truly was Dade’s sister.
“I’m going into San Angelo,” he said when they reached the house. “Anything you need from there?”
She bit her lower lip, which was already fuller and redder from her worrying it at the grave. “It can wait until I can go to town myself for it.”
He gave a curt nod, telling himself he should be glad she was letting him off the hook, that she wasn’t insisting on tagging along with him. Except it annoyed him that she didn’t want to find out about Fernando and his family firsthand. That she’d rather wait for him to come back with news.
Yep, he should be content to let her.
Instead he heard himself saying, “You can ride into town with me if you want.”
“When are you leaving?”
He shrugged. “Soon as I get a letter written and then saddle the horses. We’ll make better time with them than with a wagon.”
She stared at him, as if stunned that the likes of him could write a letter, let alone that he’d have somebody to send one to. But then why would she think otherwise when he’d professed to have almost no kin and damned few friends?
Right now she was clearly debating the wisdom of riding off to town with him on horseback. But he wasn’t changing his mind.
Taking a buckboard or her fancy buggy would give them too much time to talk. Too much temptation to stop the damned thing and take her in his arms like he’d ached to do since laying eyes on her again.
Yep, riding a horse to San Angelo put her beyond arm’s reach and made talk less easy if he set a brisk pace. He damn sure intended to do just that.
He expected her to realize he was asking her along just to be polite, that he didn’t really want her company. He thought she’d thank him and stay right here where she belonged.
He should’ve known that Daisy wasn’t an easy one to read. She smiled, big and wide and warmer than the sun, and something inside him just melted, because he’d seen that smile in his dreams countless nights and wondered if he’d ever see it again.
“I’ll fetch my hat and gloves and join you in a minute,” she said, before dashing into the house.
“Take your time.” But he doubted she heard him.
He waited for his annoyance to kick up a notch, but he liked seeing her happy for a change.
Enjoy it while you can, buddy.
It was a sure bet his life was bound to change yet again.
He headed into the parlor. Found a stationery box holding yellowed paper and envelopes and the stub of a pencil.
Then he wrote a short letter that would likely get him leg-shackled. And damn it all if he didn’t find himself smiling over that prospect.
Chapter 10
 
On the ride into San Angelo, Daisy longed to ask Trey who he’d written to. But it was clear he wasn’t in a mood to talk, and she didn’t feel like prying.
No, she had bigger things on her mind—namely whether she was really Jared Barton’s daughter.
“If Daddy took me off an orphan train, then he had to have traveled a goodly distance to find one back then,” she said, as they rode down Clairbourne Street.
“Nothing saying he didn’t meet one of those trains when he drove cattle to the railhead.”
True, and there were many of them in operation back then. The question was which one would’ve been the closest to his Colorado ranch.
That information would have to come from somebody who knew the Bartons well. Like the housekeeper who’d worked for them for as long as Daisy could remember.
“I need to find Ramona,” she said, nearly shaking from desperation to get to the truth.
“You got any idea where to start looking?”
“Ramona brought Fernando to San Angelo because her sister lives here. Chances are good they are in the Mexican community.” It was just a matter of finding her.
“You know their name?”
She shook her head, feeling more anxious than before. More helpless. She couldn’t go around knocking on doors.
“Maybe the local doctor has treated Fernando. He could direct me to the house.”
“It’s worth a try.”
A good one at that, they found out when they called on the local doctor. “So it was your ranch where Fernando was attacked,” the doctor said, as he placed items in his black leather satchel.
“Yes. It just sickens me to think how he was attacked,” she said.
The doctor harrumphed. “I’ve seen worse.”
She was sure the old doctor had, but this violence was all new to her, thanks to being sheltered from the brutal ways of men her whole life. Or at least the life she’d remembered as Jared Barton’s daughter. So much of what men could do to each other shocked her. She’d already done a terrible disservice to her cowhands by not firing Ned Durant sooner.
“I’m very worried how Fernando’s doing,” she said, and Lordy, did she ever miss Ramona.
“Still plagued with bouts of dizziness, but that’s to be expected with a brain bruise like he’s got.” The doctor turned his attention to Trey. “Reckon you’re eager to know when he can return to work.”
She and Trey exchanged a look before she spoke. “I’m certainly not rushing him to do so.”
“I know for a fact that these things take time,” Trey added.
She was reminded again of his claim to have been laid up in El Paso these past six months. Reminded too of the other cowboy Ned had dragged to death. How close Trey had come to meeting the same fate.
“That it will,” the doctor said. “He’s in no shape to suffer the stress of swinging a hammer. Can’t imagine he’d be able to tolerate the racket either with his head aching most of the time.”
“That poor man. I need to visit with him for a while,” Daisy said.
And she needed to speak with Ramona in private, for she was the only person Daisy knew who’d been there when she’d lost her memory the first time. She had to know Daisy’s past.
She’d insist the woman fill in those blanks and answer the questions whirling like a Texas tornado in her head.
“I’m headed out that way now,” the doctor said. “You’re welcome to follow.”
“Thank you,” Daisy said.
“I’ve got business to attend to first,” Trey said, clearly intending to invite himself along. “Give me directions, and we’ll be along directly.”
The doctor proceeded to lay out a route, naming landmarks so they wouldn’t get lost. Not that Daisy feared Trey would. But she wasn’t about to stand around and twiddle her thumbs while he mailed a letter and tended to whatever other business he had to do.
Without money to her name or credit in a town where she wasn’t known, she couldn’t very well do any shopping for things needed or wanted. That was surely a first for her. But then her life had taken a complete turnaround since her daddy’s death.
What else was in store for her?
“I’ll follow the doctor, and you can meet me there later,” she said.
Trey’s frown said that idea didn’t set well with him. “I don’t like you going off alone.”
“I’ll be fine with the doctor.”
Trey doubted that Ned was watching them here, waiting for a chance to cause more trouble. And she probably didn’t want an audience when she had a heart-to-heart with Ramona.
It was very likely that the housekeeper would still hold loyalty to Jared Barton. If that was the case, it would take a lot of coaxing to get Ramona to talk.
 
 
The string of squat adobe houses looked no different than any other Mexican settlement Daisy had seen in Texas. There wasn’t a thing to set one apart from the other, right down to the children squealing and playing among the chickens pecking around in the yards.
If she hadn’t followed the doctor, she likely would have ended up going from door to door. And she still might not have found the house Ramona’s sister owned.
Her daddy had warned her long ago.
Not all Mexicanos cotton to Gringos. They watch us and you’d be wise to do the same.
Right now her nerves twitched, as if someone besides the children were watching her. An odd hush had fallen over the area as well, and Daisy was sure the doctor must hear her heart thundering.
Of course these people would be curious why she was with the doctor, why she was here at this house in the first place. They were surely curious to see what reception she’d receive here.
That answer came a heartbeat later when Ramona opened the door. Her gaze slid from the doctor to Daisy.
The woman’s big brown eyes glittered with moisture and surprise. Daisy felt the same stab of tears as well, for Ramona was firmly entrenched in her heart.
“Señorita Barton! How good of you to come to San Angelo to see us,” Ramona said, as the doctor pushed past them and went in search of his patient. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” Now that she was enveloped in a warm hug. Now that she felt welcomed and loved by the woman who’d raised her after Daisy’s mother’s early death.
It was an emotion she craved and one she’d been given lavishly by her daddy and Ramona. If only Trey had cared for more than rolling in the hay with her. If he’d just loved her.
But he didn’t.
A boy who’d grown up without tender affections now saw the world in hard angles. A cowboy who’d withdrawn from emotions was now holding his own close to the vest. A man she’d been drawn to from the start, whom she’d fallen in love with.
Ramona led her to a kitchen in the back of the house that held the scents of chilies, grilled corn, and cinnamon. “Are you hungry?”
She was starving for answers, but she knew she couldn’t just blurt out questions. “For your empanadas? You should know that you don’t have to ask.”
Ramona’s face split into a wide smile, and she shooed Daisy toward a chair, just like she had done when she was a child. “Then sit while I make hot cocoa. I know what you like,
niña.
”
As well she should, since she was the only mother figure Daisy could recall clearly. Her own mother’s face blurred often, as if she were becoming a stranger to her.
Other than a vague memory of her mama dressing her up as if she were a doll, she couldn’t remember much else about her. Not so for Ramona.
She’d been the one to wipe her tears and cradle her when she had a bad dream. She’d seen that her clothes were clean and her hungers were met.
Like the hot cocoa and empanadas. Comfort foods. Treats that she associated with home. With someone who cared about her enough to put forth the effort to spoil her a bit instead of showing her off.
Were there other older memories trapped in her mind as well? Memories that reached back before the fall that cloaked her mind in dark shadows that even she couldn’t see through?
She rubbed her forehead, wondering if she’d ever have a clear recollection of her childhood. Her gaze flicked to the room the doctor had slipped into. She wondered if Fernando was plagued with the same ailment now after the crushing blow to his head.
“How are Fernando and Manuel?” she asked, genuinely concerned.
“Ai, ai, ai, there are days when Fernando is tormented by terrible pains in his head,” Ramona said, as she busied herself at the hearth. “Manuel left this morning for the Circle 46.”
How sad his path hadn’t crossed hers and Trey’s. “I’ve a feeling Fernando’s headaches are far worse than what I’ve suffered since the fall.”
Falls, really, but she held off saying that for now. This was about Fernando, not her.
Ramona slid the cocoa pot onto a heavy trivet and turned to Daisy, her eyes sad and banked with worry. “The pain in your head. Has it returned?”
“A time or two when I’ve tried to force my mind to remember things.”
“What is so important that you want to dredge up the past?”
Daisy sat forward and captured the older woman’s gaze with her own. “Who am I?”
Ramona’s face went white as paper. “You’ve forgotten that?”
How to answer. “I know I’m Daisy, but I’m not sure that I am Jared Barton’s daughter.”
There. She’d voiced her fear. And judging by the resigned look that passed over Ramona’s face, it was one she’d expected to eventually hear.
Yet it was just as clear that loyalty ran deep in the older woman. “What is this? Of course you are Jared Barton’s daughter.”
Daisy took a sip of the rich cocoa, but it failed to lull her as it had before. “I’ve remembered things that don’t fit in with being a Barton.”
Ramona paled, and her throat worked nervously. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“I’ve remembered my brother,” she said. “Dade was his name. Dade Logan.”
“I know nothing about him,” Ramona said, and Daisy believed her.
“I’ve also remembered standing on a loading platform at the train station with the other orphans.”
Ramona nodded and slumped a bit more in the chair. “Your memory has returned then?”
“Not fully, but I recall enough to know that I’m not Jared Barton’s natural daughter.” She reached across the table and laid her hand atop Ramona’s. “Please. Tell me the truth.”
A nervous sigh whispered from the older woman as she fidgeted with the plate of empanadas, putting the food between them like a temptation for Daisy to eat instead of talk. Or was it a barrier? A means of trying to keep at bay the inevitable.
“Please,” Daisy said again.
Ramona looked to the doorway, her face lined with worry, as if she was afraid that Jared Barton would catch her revealing his secret. Such loyalty should have been rewarded.
“Señora Barton told me that she prayed and prayed for a child,” Ramona said at last, her voice low and solemn. “Then one day her prayers were answered, and you came into her life.”
That was in keeping with what Hollis Feth had told her. Her mama had desperately wanted her. Wanted a child.
Where there’s a will, there’s a way,
her daddy said often.
He was a man who was used to getting what he wanted through hard work and determination. He’d wanted a cattle empire and had gotten one. He’d wanted a chance at a second family after losing his first wife and son. But it didn’t look like he’d have a second child, not unless he took matters into his own hands.
“I think that Daddy and Mother decided to take in a child,” Daisy said, sitting back to cradle her cup of cocoa, hoping the warmth of the crockery would thaw the deep cold that always stayed inside her. “Tell me the truth. Did they take me off an orphan train?”
“I do not know,
niña.
Señor hired us when he bought the rancho in Texas. I had never seen you or your mother until Señor Barton brought you both to the JDB.”
So Ramona couldn’t know if Daisy was an orphan. She’d taken over her care after they moved to the JDB. She would naturally have assumed that Daisy was the Bartons’ child by blood.
Ramona had believed what she’d been told, that Daisy was their only child.
But Daisy knew that wasn’t true.
She closed her eyes and willed the shadows to recede from the past, but the fog hovered like a specter at the end of the loading dock. She shivered. Cold. Afraid.
A big hand clamped over her arm and pulled her from the others. She remembered breaking free. Of running from the woman into the mist to hide. Of falling.
The rest was a blur of faces and fleeting memories of being gripped with pain and terror. That surely matched another memory stuck in her mind, of riding with a man on a horse and being too terrified to cry.

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