Texas Secrets (21 page)

He glanced up, his concentration fierce, but his voice was gentle when he answered. "You're doing fine just like you are. She's new at this, and she needs someone to tell her she's all right."

"Will she be? All right, I mean?"

One more quick glance. One fleeting smile. "I think so."

Maddie saw the lines of strain on his face. He'd mentioned before his concerns about the mare, his hopes for the foal. Maddie left him alone and turned her concentration on the mare. "That's a good girl," she cooed, stroking the mare's head slowly. "I know it hurts, but soon you'll have your baby and you'll say it's worth it."

"I thought you said all men were pigs, or something like it." Amusement threaded through the strain in Boone's voice.

"This is just between us girls. You're not supposed to be listening."

Dancer picked up her head again, and Maddie thought she saw fear in the mare's eyes. Once more, she murmured and stroked the fine, proud head.

"Almost there," Boone said. "Easy, girl. Let her go now, Maddie, and get ready to move back. She'll probably try to get up as soon as it's out. If you want to come around and watch, just be sure you stay back."

Maddie stroked the mare one more time, then stepped away and stared. Two thin legs protruded, guided by Boone's hands. Then she heard a sound she could only describe as squishy, and the foal slid out into Boone's waiting arms.

All wet, dark hair, mucus and membrane and blood, the baby still seemed a miracle to Maddie. Boone busied himself cleaning mucus from the foal's nose and mouth. "Would you hand me that towel behind you, please?"

When Maddie handed it to him, Boone looked up at her with triumph in his eyes, and Maddie's heart gave a hard thump.

"May I touch her? Him?"

"Him. It's a colt." Boone stared at her across the stall, and in the glow of his eyes, Maddie found herself unable to move.

"In a minute you can. Just don't get in the mare's way. She needs to smell him and let him smell her. That way they'll bond." Boone laid the colt down in the straw gently and drew Maddie over to his side. Maddie knelt beside him, overcome with awe.

"He's beautiful, Boone. It's incredible. I've never seen anything so wonderful."

Boone met her smile with his own. Silently, they watched the mare clean her baby.

Maddie threw her arms around Boone and hugged him hard. "Thank you for this. I'll never forget it."

Boone started to protest that he was filthy, but it was already too late. When Maddie pulled away, she was filthy, too.

But she didn't seem to notice, her eyes shining, her smile wide. "It's a miracle, isn't it? Do you ever get tired of seeing it?"

"Never," he replied, but he could have been talking about watching her. How had he ever thought her wrong for this place? How had he lived so long without her joy? 

Dancer had sniffed and licked her way from head to tail. It was time for Boone to get to work.

He talked while he took care of the umbilical cord then began handling the colt, explaining to Maddie what he was doing. "I'm getting him used to being touched right from the start. It will make him easier to train if he bonds with me as much as his mother."

He took the colt through a routine they would repeat for days to come, manipulating his legs and feet, touching every part of his body, not letting the colt rise until he finished.

"I'm teaching him that I'm the head horse, that he is to follow me in whatever I say. That's why I didn't let him get up right away. Now I will. His legs will be wobbly."

Boone rose and came to stand beside her while the colt struggled to its feet.

Maddie couldn't help but smile. "I can't believe he can stand so soon." Then she giggled as the colt staggered like a two-day drunk. She turned to Boone. "We can't prop him up?"

"You'll be amazed at how steady he'll be by tonight." Pride filled Boone's voice, but Maddie heard the exhaustion beneath.

That, she could do something about. "I'm going to fix us some breakfast."

"You don't have—"

"Boone. Don't even say it."

His look was sheepish. "I'd crawl over broken glass for a cup of coffee."

"A simple thank you will do." Maddie smiled.

"Thank you." Boone smiled back. He opened his mouth as though he wanted to say something else. Then he shook his head.

"What?"

"I owe you an apology. You may be a city girl, but you handled yourself like a pro."

Maddie wasn't sure she'd ever heard a sweeter compliment. "I won't say I told you so," she teased. Then she sobered. "Thank you for letting me stay. It was incredible."

"You were pretty incredible yourself." In Boone's eyes shone another memory of the night.

Maddie wanted to linger, but he was hungry and tired. If she didn't leave now, she never would. "I—I'd better go."

His voice turned neutral. "I'll come as soon as I'm sure everything's okay here. Jim will be in soon, and he can watch them."

Maddie wanted to say something, to talk about last night. But Boone had already turned back to mother and baby.

He had work to do. There would be time later.

* * *

Maddie emerged from the bathroom, her hair still wet but all of her much cleaner. She already had coffee perking. She'd take a cup to Boone before she started breakfast.

She was halfway down the stairs when her cell rang. Maddie glanced at the clock. Who would be calling at seven in the morning?

"Hello?"

"Darling, I'm so glad I reached you. Is it too early?"

Régine. Even on Eastern time, it was early for someone whose restaurant closed well after midnight.

"Not as early for me as it is for you, I'll bet."

The older woman's laugh sounded rusty. "I wouldn't be up at this godforsaken hour if it weren't important."

"Is something wrong?"

"Maddie, things have changed here. I can't wait two more weeks for you."

"Oh. I understand. You have plenty of prospects, I'm sure."

"That's not what I mean. I want you, Maddie. Only you. I'm convinced, more than ever, that you are our destiny."

Régine had always had a flair for the dramatic.

"I can't leave here, not yet."

"I'm prepared to up the ante." Then her voice turned tentative in a way Maddie had never heard this hard-edged woman speak. "Maddie, my doctor has discovered a lump in my breast. He says it's manageable, but I have to go into the hospital. I may be out for a while. I need you here."

"Oh, Régine, I'm so sorry."

"Spare me the pity." The other woman's voice was dry. "Just help me out. I'm prepared to offer you an ownership stake in the restaurant now."

"Ownership?" In a place far beyond anything Maddie could expect to own? But she couldn't leave yet. Boone would lose this house. "Régine, I—Anthony can run things for you." Her maître d' had been with her for years and knew everything Régine knew.

"It's what you want, isn't it? To own your own restaurant?"

"Yes, I've always wanted to own my own place. And Sancerre is everything I've ever dreamed, but—"

"I'm not going to let you tell me no, Maddie. You've lost your perspective. You can't seriously think to give this up for some dusty cowboy. You don't belong there. You could be the toast of the town here."

"I—I promised Boone I would stay."

"Maddie, I need you. That place is just a house. You said he would still have plenty of land, even without the house. And he can probably buy the house from those other people. You won't need the money from him if you come in with me. Let him have the place, if it makes you feel better but don't be foolish, Maddie. This is your future."

New York had never seemed farther away. But Régine had been her friend for a long time. She had helped Maddie extract herself from the Robert fiasco.

But Maddie had promised Boone she'd stay.

"Don't answer me now. Tell me you'll call back tonight. Think about it, Maddie. Think hard. You've worked for years for this. And I need you."

Maddie could resist anything else, but hearing a plea from her cynical friend was like finding water in the desert. Régine did not plead.

"I'll call you tonight, Régine."

"I'll be waiting."

Maddie hung up the phone with a sinking heart.

"You have to go." Boone's voice startled her.

Maddie whirled. "What?"

"You can't throw away a golden opportunity. I remember what you said. That place is at the top of the heap and she's giving you ownership, didn't I hear that right?"

Maddie nodded dully.

"It's what you said you wanted. You're good, and this is your chance."

"But the Caswells..."

"Leave the Caswells to me. You can't blow this chance, Maddie. It's exactly what you've always wanted."

"Yes, but..." She'd thought so. But after last night...

"Then the answer is simple." His voice was clear and brisk as he walked to the coffeepot and poured himself a cup. "You have to go." He turned away from her. "Do I have time for a quick shower?"

Maddie didn't know what to think, what to say. So she busied herself with breakfast. "Will twenty minutes be enough?"

"That will be fine." He started from the room.

"Boone..." She wanted to stop him, to—what? Beg him to let her stay? If he wanted that, he would have asked. Boone wasn't shy about speaking his mind.

"What?" He didn't turn.

Maddie drew in a deep breath. "Two eggs or three?"

"Three." His voice never faltered.

When she heard his steps on the stairs, Maddie clutched the sink with white-knuckled fingers.

I will not cry
. But Maddie had to blink hard to see her way to the stove.

* * *

Boone stood in the doorway to the bathroom and tried to remember why he was here.

You should be an actor, after that performance
.

But what else could he do? It was within her grasp to have everything she'd dreamed. How could he make her stay for two more weeks and lose her chance?

You want more than two weeks, and you know it. And the Caswells aren't going to bargain with you. Harold and Sam hated each other, and the bad blood continues
.

It didn't matter. He had to do what was right for Maddie. He'd figure out something about the house later. God knew he'd have plenty of time to do nothing but think.

And to miss her. If only she had expressed any doubts about leaving, but he'd heard her on the phone. Her only argument was that she'd made a promise to him, not that she'd changed her mind.

Promises could be broken. There were other places on the ranch to build himself a house. He wasn't sure he could stay in this one, anyway, once Maddie was gone. If he'd thought it was haunted before... He would hear the echo of Maddie's laughter in every room. See her face in every corner.

Boone's shoulders sagged. How the hell was he going to stand this place without her?

Then he straightened. The least he could do was to make it as easy as possible for her to leave. Her strong sense of honor could keep her from jumping at the opportunity of a lifetime if he didn't do this. Two weeks from now, she would still leave, but without that chance.

You could ask her to stay
.

He could—but he wouldn't. If even once he'd heard her voice doubts about leaving... If he had any idea that she might...

No. He had no more to offer her than the day she'd arrived. An unexciting life with a man who could seldom afford a vacation. A life of hard work and little profit. The nearest fine dining or music or museums hours away in Fort Worth or Dallas.

He had one more thing he could offer, but it wasn't much of a bargain. He had a worn-out heart that had never figured out how to manage love the right way.

All in all, not much to tempt a woman who could have the world at her feet.

No, he would do the right thing by Maddie.

If it killed him.

* * *

Magic didn't last.
Stop being a romantic, Maddie. Look at this for what it is
.

She'd said it before. Now she had to believe it. She couldn't be a romantic about this.

The night had been magic, but the opportunity of a lifetime dangled before her. She had to take it seriously. She had worked very hard to get where she was, and she couldn't afford to blow this.

So why didn't owning a piece of Sancerre make her heart sing? Why did she keep thinking about owning The Dinner Bell?

Maddie knew why. The Dinner Bell was closer to Boone.

But Boone had made it clear that she should grab this chance. He'd sounded confident that he could work things out with the Caswells so he would not lose the house.

If last night had meant as much to him as to her, she couldn't tell it now. Maddie had stripped her pride bare too often with Robert. She wouldn't beg Boone. It would mean giving up all the progress she'd made since she'd come here.

She was strong. She would get through this. She would ask Boone one more time, to be absolutely sure he wouldn't lose this place that he loved. If he gave her the slightest sense that the house was at risk, she would stay, no matter what. Maddie didn't go back on her word.

But if he were certain, she would call Régine back. She would make arrangements, and then she would pack.

She would get out of here before she fell to pieces.

And she would hope that Sancerre needed her a lot—so much that she could drown herself in work.

And forget a golden man who had broken her heart, just as she'd known he could.

* * *

Boone looked at his empty plate in surprise. He hadn't tasted a single bite of a meal he was sure had been excellent.

A long, silent meal.

Maddie looked up as if to say something, then paused to take a sip of her juice.

Tell me you don't want to leave, that New York isn't important
.

But she didn't. "Are you sure you can work something out with the Caswells?"

A lead weight settled in his chest. From some place deep inside him, he drew on long-buried reserves. "It was your family that killed a Caswell, Maddie, not mine." He hated the stricken look on her face, but he had to convince her. "They'll deal with me."