The Cowboy and His Baby (2 page)

“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.

He slowed his pickup and looked around at the land that he loved, the land he'd hoped one day would be his since Luke's mile-wide independent streak had sent him chasing after his own dream and his own ranch and Jordan was only interested in oil.

Even in the dead of winter, it was starkly beautiful, at least to him. He was home and suddenly, despite the sorrow that had drawn him back, he felt at peace for the first time since he'd driven away more than eighteen months before.

* * *

Melissa Horton took a break from her job behind the lunch counter at Dolan's Drugstore and perched on a stool with the weekly newspaper and a cup of coffee. Her attention was riveted to the story of Mary Adams's tragic riding accident.

The 55-year-old woman had always been incredibly kind to her. Melissa had figured Mary
pitied her because she'd been mooning around Cody for most of her life. Once Mary had even tried to give her some advice. It had turned out to be lousy advice, but Melissa was certain Mary had thought she was doing her a favor.

Mary had sat her down one afternoon over tea and told her that Cody was taking her for granted. Not that that was news. At any rate, Mary had claimed that the only way Melissa would ever win him would be to make him jealous. Tired of being ignored except when it suited Cody, and taking the well-meant advice to heart, Melissa had tried to do just that by going out just once with Cody's best friend.

What a disaster that had been! Had she chosen anyone else, maybe the plan would have worked, but she'd foolishly selected the one man she'd figured wouldn't get hurt. Brian had known her heart belonged to Cody. He'd known their date meant nothing, that it was only a ploy to shake up Cody. He'd even tried to argue her out of it, warning her it could backfire, but her mind had been made up. She had risked everything, certain that Mary Adams was right. She'd seen it as the only way to get Cody to finally make a commitment to her.

She should have guessed that Brian understood Cody even better than she did. Every time she thought of the anger and hurt in Cody's eyes that night, it made her sick to her stomach. He had stared at them for the space of one dull, thudding heartbeat. He'd looked not at her, but through her. His gaze riveted on Brian, he'd said, “A hell of a friend you turned out to be.”

He had spoken with a kind of lethal calm that had been more chilling than shouted accusations. Then
he'd turned on his heel and walked away. He had taken off the next morning and never once looked back.

For the past eighteen months she'd had no idea at all where he was. Brian hadn't heard from him, hadn't expected to, for that matter. She hadn't had the courage to ask Cody's family for information. Her shame ran too deep.

There had been times when she'd considered being in the dark a blessing. It had kept her from chasing after him, from destroying what few shreds of pride and dignity she had left.

Now, though, she had no doubts at all that Cody would be coming home. She might have driven him away with her betrayal, but his mother's death would surely bring him back.

Had he changed much? she wondered. Had he lost the flirtatious, fun-loving nature that had charmed her and half the women who'd crossed his path? Would she have to live with regrets for the rest of her life for turning him into a bitter, cynical man?

“No good'll come of what you're thinking,” Mabel Hastings advised, coming up behind her to peer over her shoulder at the front page of the newspaper.

“How do you know what I'm thinking?” Melissa asked defensively.

Mabel shook her head, her tight gray curls bouncing at the movement. When Mabel had a permanent, she meant it to last. She'd been wearing the exact same hairstyle as far back as Melissa could remember. It did not suit her pinched features.

“I been reading you like a book ever since you set eyes on Cody Adams way back in junior high school,” Mabel informed her huffily. “You seem to
forget how many times you sat right here at this very counter making goo-goo eyes at him.”

Melissa chuckled despite her irritation at the unsolicited interference. “‘Goo-goo eyes'? Mabel, exactly how old are you? A hundred, maybe? Not even my mother would use an expression like that.”

The older woman, who was probably no more than sixty, scowled at her. “Don't matter what you call it, the point is you've been crazy about that boy way too long and just look where it got you.”

Melissa sensed the start of a familiar lecture. Listening to it was the price she paid for having a job that paid enough in salary and tips to keep her financially afloat and independent. She didn't have to take a dime from her parents.

“Okay, I get your point,” she said, trying to avoid the full-scale assault on her sense and her virtue. “Drop it, please. I probably won't even see Cody.”

She was bright enough to know it would be far better if she didn't. Her life had taken some unexpected twists and turns since he'd left, but it was settling down now. She was at peace with herself. There were no more complications, no more tears in the middle of the night over a man who didn't love her—at least, not enough—and no more roller coaster ups and downs.

No way did she want to stir up old memories and old hurts. One look into Cody's laughing brown eyes and she couldn't trust herself not to tumble straight back into love with him. She'd clearly never had a lick of sense where he was concerned.

Now, though, the stakes were way too high. Now she had more than her own heart to consider. She had someone else to protect, someone more important to
her than life itself—Cody's daughter, the child he didn't even know he had.

T
he entire family was walking around in a daze. Cody had never seen them like this, not even when Erik died. He supposed they were all following Harlan's lead. His father hadn't spoken more than a word or two to anyone. He hadn't eaten. He wasn't sleeping. He had refused a sedative prescribed by the doctor. Not even his unusually subdued grandchildren, tugging on his sleeves and competing for his attention, drew so much as a smile. He looked haggard and lost.

On Saturday morning Cody found Harlan in his office, staring at nothing, his complexion a worrisome shade of gray. Cody walked over and perched on a corner of his desk.

“Hey, Daddy, are you doing okay?”

Harlan blinked, his gaze finally focusing. “Cody, have you been here long?”

The vague question startled Cody. Normally nothing went on at White Pines that Harlan didn't notice. “Actually, I got here yesterday.”

His father's lips quirked for a fraction of a second. “Hell, I know that. I haven't lost my marbles. I meant now. Have you been standing there long?”

Relief sighed through Cody. “Nope. Just walked in. Everyone's been looking for you.”

“Must not have been looking too hard,” Harlan grumbled in a manner that was more in character. “I've been right here all night long.”

Cody was dismayed. “You didn't sleep?”

“Off and on, I suppose.”

“Daddy, you should have been resting. Today's going to be rough enough without facing it exhausted.”

His father shrugged. “I couldn't go upstairs.”

“Damn,” Cody muttered. Why hadn't any of them thought of that? Of course it was going to be hard for their father to spend time in the suite of rooms he had shared for so many years with his wife. It was hard for the rest of them just being in the house where their mother had reigned over every last detail. “I'm sorry. I'll go upstairs and bring some clothes down for you. It'll be time to go to the church soon.”