The Cowboy and the Princess (23 page)

“I knew what kind of trouble you were courting, even if you didn’t.”

“Why did you run away?” she asked, fully aware that she was opening herself up to the same probing questions.

He did not answer.

She rested her head on her knees, slid a sidelong glance at him. The muscles in his forearms bunched as he flexed his fingers, tension riding his nerve endings. She reached out to touch his arm. He calmed instantly, his muscles relaxing under the heat of her hand. “It’s okay. You owe me nothing.”

“Maybe not,” he said. “But I owe it to me.”

Another burst of fireworks lit the sky, but neither of them watched the colorful rockets. She moved a big toe against the rough wood of the loft floor, felt the rippling ridges. His breathing was heavy, deliberate, as if he was trying desperately to control the flow of oxygen. As if it could control the chaos of his memory. He was hurting and Annie couldn’t stand it, but neither could she do anything to change the past.

“My father beat on me pretty regularly.”

Annie didn’t mean to cry out, but her horror was a startled, sharp gasp in the shadowy confines of the hayloft. “Those scars on your back,” she whispered.

Absentmindedly, he reached a hand around to touch his back. “The son of a bitch was fond of soaking the bullwhip in water before he used it on me.”

Annie moved her hand from his arm down to find his hand and squeezed it. “Oh, Brady.”

Silently, he clung to her hand. She could feel the painful memory of that long-ago time travel from his body into hers. “This was your real father?”

“There’s the rub,” Brady said.

“He was your stepfather?”

“In a way, but I didn’t know that until I was fifteen.”

A cluster of Roman candles went off in rapid succession.
Pow. Pow. Pow
.

“You told me you had four brothers. That you were the middle child. How many were half brothers?”

“All of them.”

Annie frowned. “I am not following you.”

“My father never whipped any of my brothers. Not once. Never touched a hair on their heads in rage. Just me. I was the only one singled out.”

“That’s horrible! What kind of father does that?”

“For years I thought something was wrong with me. That I deserved this kind of treatment. I was punished for the slightest infraction. If I didn’t put out the garbage, I’d be whipped. If I got a C in math. If I didn’t cut the lawn in a perfect pattern.”

“That is child abuse! That is criminal!”

“Yeah, but I was a kid. I took his discipline to heart. I took it to mean that I was defective in some way.”

“You were not defective.”

“I can see that from an adult point of view, but when you’re young and living it . . .” He shook his head. “I compensated by becoming the class clown. Get everyone on my side by making them laugh. I tried to pack as much fun in a day as I could because I knew when I got home at night . . .”

“Why did your mother not intervene?”

Brady gave a harsh laugh. “I suppose she feared he’d take his anger out on her the way he took it out on me.”

“He didn’t beat her?” The hot barn was suddenly ice cold.

“No, just me. The whipping boy.”

His pain was her pain. She felt it. Swallowed it. Her stomach burned. Her heart seared. “I can see how that would confuse and hurt a child.”

“I thought it meant I wasn’t worthy of the things other people got, but Dutch Callahan taught me different.”

“Mariah’s father?”

“Yeah. He might not have been a good dad to her, but to me, he was salvation. He took me off the road. Brought me to Jubilee. Gave me a job tending horses. He changed the direction of my life. Kept me from getting into serious trouble with the law. Kept me sane.”

She admired how he raised his chin, squared his shoulders. He had been through a lot, but he had survived. She admired too how he had turned violence into tenderness. Transmuting the hatred his father had dished out into love for horses. “Dutch sounds like he was a very good man.”

“He was. And after my father I desperately needed a good role model.”

“Did you ever find out why your father singled you out? Why he treated you so terribly?”

Brady paused again, stared out at the night. The air smelled smoky, black. “Because of my mother’s dark secret.”

Overhead, more brilliant starbursts of light, a breathtaking panorama of sight and sound. Their hands stayed clenched, their backs resting against the hay.

Annie said nothing for a long time, and then finally she nudged him. He had come this far. Now, she had to know everything about the past that plagued him. “What was her secret?”

“My father lost his job after my brother Colton was born. To make ends meet, my mother took a job as a cook at a ranch near our home. Dad took to drinking to cope with unemployment.”

“Job loss can be so difficult on a man’s ego.” Annie had read this somewhere. She had no real idea what she was talking about. In her world, the men were born into their positions. There was no taking it away. She could not really identify with Brady’s situation, but she could certainly feel his pain. It was in his face, his muscles, and his tone of voice.

“My mother dealt with his drinking by taking comfort where she could find it,” he said. “She had an affair with the businessman who owned the ranch. Later, he got elected to the Texas state senate.”

“That man is your real father?”

“Yes.”

“How did you find out?”

“He came to our house.”

“Your real father came to your house?” Annie echoed. She did not know what to do or say to make things better. There was no fixing this for him.

“Yes, and as result, the man I thought was my father gave me the beating of my life.”

“The beating that caused the scars on your back?”

“Yeah. After he left me bloody and unable to walk, my mother found me, tended my wounds, and finally told me the truth.”

“I cannot begin to imagine how you felt.”

“The emotional pain was worse than the physical pain, but at last, everything made sense. I knew I would never get along with the man who raised me and that there was no point in staying and taking his abuse.”

“Why did your real father come to see you?”

“Thinking back on it, I realize he probably just wanted to see me. I don’t remember the excuse he made for coming there. I only remember my old man took it out on me.”

Annie stroked his head, letting him know he was safe with her. “You don’t have to say any more.”

“I had known all along I was different. That I did not fit in. My brothers knew it too. They tried to defend me from the old man, but once you become the scapegoat, there’s no scraping that stigma off.”

“So you are not really close with any of your brothers.”

Brady shook his head. “They have their lives. I have mine.”

“What happened after your mother told you her shameful secret?”

“I went to see the senator at his ranch. He didn’t admit to being my father. He said my mother was lying, but I could see the truth in his eyes.”

“How could he be so cavalier?”

“He had a family of his own and he was too cowardly to let his secret out. But he did give me some money. So I took it and I left and I told myself I would never go back. That I would never have that kind of life. I was afraid to trust. I knew how badly secrets hurt. If I’d only known why I was different, why my father did not accept it, I could have dealt with it. But my mother kept her secret and it hurt everyone involved. It’s why I hate secrets. Why I keep prodding you to reveal yours. Secrets can only hurt.”

She wanted to tell him. She’d have to tell him eventually. She might as well tell him now. “Brady, I—”

A deep, anguished, keening wail shattered the night.

Annie stared at Brady. “Was that fireworks?”

The second gut-ripping scream told them it was not.

Fear pulsed through her. “Something awful is happening.” She searched for her sandals, slipped them on her feet. Brady had already started down the steps. He waited at the bottom of the ladder for her. The minute her feet touched the ground, he took her by the hand and they ran back to the ranch house.

Fear seized Annie by the throat and would not let go.

Brady shoved open the front door, pulling Annie along with him, and they bulleted into the backyard to find their friends pale and trembling. Mariah was on the ground with Lissette cradled in her arms. Lissette clung to her, sobbing helplessly, completely broken.

The air smelled of burnt fireworks. The children stood wide-eyed. One girl sucked on her thumb. Another little boy was crying. The adults seemed frozen, unable to move. Joe stood by the patio door, his head in his hands.

“What is it?” Brady whispered to Joe. “What’s happened?”

That’s when Annie saw the two military men standing off to one side looking stiff and solemn in their uniforms. Her pulse leaped in her throat.

“It’s Jake Moncrief,” Joe said. “He’s dead.”

Chapter Fifteen

You might be a princess if . . . you keep your head in a crisis.

I
n the wake of the news of Jake Moncrief’s death, Brady couldn’t believe how Annie immediately leaped into action, herding the children inside the house, taking them upstairs, calming them down, putting the younger ones down to sleep while putting a movie on the television for the older children to watch.

Brady felt lost, helpless, but Annie seemed made for a crisis. Once the children were settled, she came back downstairs, made a pot of coffee, and began cleaning the house. She stayed in the shadows, out of the way, unobtrusively doing what needed to be done so everyone else could concentrate on consoling Lissette.

Near midnight, once Lissette’s parents arrived from Dallas and took her and Kyle home, and after the military casualty notification officers had departed, everyone else collected their sleepy children and somberly filtered out, until it was just Mariah and Joe and Brady and Annie left. At two o’clock in the morning, the four of them sat in the living room without talking. There was nothing to say.

“I guess we should all try to get some sleep,” Joe said vaguely. “It seems so unreal. Jake was so vital.”

“I keep thinking of those Disney World tickets he bought Lissette. How he promised he’d come home.” Mariah sniffled into a Kleenex.

“Shh, shh.” Joe took his wife in his arms, kissed the top of her head, rubbed his hand up and down her back.

“I’m going to take Annie back to the cabin,” Brady said, getting up off the couch.

“There’s no need. We’ve got a guest room.”

“Thanks for the offer,” Brady said, “but you all need time to grieve.”

“The shop is closed tomorrow. Sleep in,” Mariah told Annie.

“You do the same as well,” Annie said.

“As if Jonah would let me. When you’ve got a baby, life goes on.”

Mariah’s words echoed in his head as Brady took Annie back to the cabin.
When you’ve got a baby, life goes on
. Very soon, that could be
his
reality.

Neither spoke on the short ride over. He pulled to a stop in the driveway.

“Are you coming in?” she asked, her hand on the passenger side door.

“Do you want me to come in?”

Silently, she got out, went around to his side of the truck, opened the door, took his hand, and led him inside the cabin. It was her turn to take charge. To be in control. Brady let himself be led.

They let the dogs out, and then let them back in again. They fell into bed with their clothes on. Exhausted and gritty, their hearts heavy. They wrapped their arms around each other and just let sleep claim them.

Hours later, the chiming of Brady’s cell phone awakened them simultaneously.

“God,” he muttered, fumbling for it on the bedside table. He felt as hung over as if he’d downed a quart of whiskey. “What now?”

Annie sat up, her hair mussed, eyes bleary. She looked as worn out as he felt.

“Hello?” He pressed his lips together to suppress a yawn and darted a glance at the clock. Nine-thirty.

“Is this Brady Talmadge?”

“It is.” He’d been too foggy to think of checking the caller ID.

“This is Mary Jameson.”

His body tensed. For one brief moment, he’d forgotten about the child he might have fathered with Kelly Deavers. “Yes?”

“The results of the paternity tests have come back. I put a rush on it. I thought you’d want to know immediately.”

“Yes, yes.” He gulped, clutched the phone tighter.

“Mr. Talmadge, it’s been confirmed. You are indeed Orchid’s father. Are you prepared to do everything I asked of you in order to claim your daughter?”

A
nnie watched Brady switch off his cell phone and toss it back on the bedside table.

His skin paled, his hands shook, and an unmistakable grin stole over his face. “It’s official. I’m a dad.”

“How do you feel about that?” A strange jittery sensation bumped along her nerve endings.

He splayed both hands to the top of his head, smoothed back his hair. “I don’t know.”

“Do you want her?”

His eyes met Annie’s. “More than anything in the world, but I get the impression that Mary Jameson isn’t going to make it easy for me to get custody.”

“What does she want you to do?”

“I have to quit traveling. Find a place to live. Get a job and establish a support system.”

“I can help with that,” Annie blurted without weighing the consequences.
What have you done, Princess? You can’t make this man promises you can’t keep. There is no fairy tale here in Jubilee. No happily-ever-after for you with Brady Talmadge.

His eyes lit up. A shift of emotions moved across his face—bewilderment, excitement, gratitude, disbelief. “How? You’ve told me over and over that you can’t stay in Jubilee, that—”

“I can’t.”

Disappointment frosted his eyes. “So how in the hell could you possibly help me?”

She didn’t blame him for the spurt of anger in his voice. He was overwhelmed. So she calmly and efficiently spelled out a plan that she hadn’t even known she’d been planning. “You will move in here,” she said. “I will help you fix the place up. Turn that big storage room into a nursery. You will go to work for Joe. Mariah told me he asked you to run their equine center.”

“And where are you going to live?”

“Right here with you until it is time for me to leave.”

“Does that mean . . .” He trailed off.

“That we will finally and fully become lovers?”

“Yeah.”

“Is that what you want?”

“Buttercup, I’ve wanted you since I first laid eyes on you, but I’m a dad now and—”

She forced a smile. “This will be your last chance for a no-strings-attached relationship. Let us make the most of it.”

“Annie.” He reached for her, pulled her into his arms.

Helplessly, she sank against him.

“I’m afraid that if we take that last step, I’ll never be able to let you go.”

Tears clogged her throat, but she swallowed them back. “Sure you will. Orchid will keep you busy and you’ll forget all about me.” She took a fortifying breath and continued outlining her plan. “When Mary Jameson comes to inspect your living situation, I will be your support system. You can tell her I am your girlfriend or that we’re engaged. Whatever you need to say to convince her.”

“You mean lie?”

“Do you want custody of your daughter? Besides, I
am
your girlfriend. For now. She doesn’t have to know it’s temporary.”

“What happens when you’re gone?”

“Once you have custody of Orchid, it will not matter. You already have a support system. I have seen the way your friends look after each other. They will look after you and Orchid too.” Even as she was laying out her sensible plan, little pieces of her heart were breaking off.

He hooked a finger under her chin, tilted her face up, forcing her to look into his eyes. “Why?”

“Why what?” Her pulse quickened and her knee weakened.

“Why are you doing this for me?”

The answer to that question was an easy one, but she could not tell him the real reason. That she was in love with him. So in love with him that she would do anything in her power to make sure he was happy. But it was more than that. By helping him get Orchid, she hoped it would perhaps meliorate the lies she had told, the secret she had kept. And there was a small part of her that believed this had been her destiny all along. The role she’d been meant to play. Reuniting a father with his daughter. The thought made her feel less guilty.

“Because,” she said. “That little girl needs you.”

A
fter he got the news about Orchid, Brady went up to the ranch house to speak to Joe about the job offer, and as Annie predicted, Joe was thrilled to hire him. Mariah was equally excited when Brady told her that he was moving into the cabin with Annie.

“I knew it,” Mariah crowed. “I hear wedding bells in your future. Oh, this is so wonderful.”

He didn’t have the heart to tell her that if she was hearing bells it was nothing more than ringing in her ears. Annie had made it quite clear that her secret was too big of an obstacle to overcome. Their relationship could never be long-term. He’d accepted that in the beginning, but now? He was confused and he didn’t like feeling that way.

Then he dropped the bombshell about Orchid and his friends were all over him. Mariah hugged him. Joe pounded him on the back. “You’re a dad!”

Joe started going on about how wonderful parenthood was and Mariah kept asking about Orchid and he just had to get out of their house. There was only so much enthusiasm a solitary man could take. This whole thing was new to him and he felt uncertain about the future.

Seeking refuge, he headed for the barn. It was here among the horses that he felt safest. Everything was changing. Nothing would ever be the same in his world again. Part of him was excited. A bigger part was terrified. A single dad. He was going to be a single father.

Only if you can convince Mary Jameson that you’re man enough for the job.

Uncertainty pressed down on his lungs. Was he man enough for the job? The fear of not getting custody of Orchid knotted him up worse than the thought of getting her, and he hadn’t even met her yet.

His daughter. He had a daughter.

He needed to ride, to clear his head, whip his fears into submission. And Miracle was the horse for the job. It was time the stallion got the remainder of his fears out of his system too. He saddled the stallion and trotted him from the barn. The horse tossed his head, chuffed out his breath. Brady could feel his own nervous energy transfer to the stallion.

With a click of his tongue, he urged Miracle to go faster. The stallion galloped full-out across the pasture, his mane streaming back, whipping against Brady’s fingers. They raced together, horse and man, each one trying to outpace the demons in their heads.

For a time, as the ground sped away beneath Miracle’s hooves, Brady felt rangy and freewheeling, connected to nothing but the powerful horse. A song played in his head. “Born Free.” The creaking sound of the leather saddle seemed to keep time with the tune. But there was no escaping the past. History had made both him and the horse who they were now, shaped the pattern of their lives.

He had a primal impulse to keep riding and never stop. In the Old West days a man could do that. Get on a horse and ride as far and long as the horse could hold up. But now there were roads and vehicles and cities and people. The country might have been tamed, but not the cowboy spirit.

It occurred to him that he could go back, get into his trailer, and drive away. Take a modern route to liberty. He did not have to claim Orchid. He could take off and just keep going. A sense of slithering, evading, crawled across his skin.

The wistful, immature part of him toyed briefly with the idea. He’d spent a lifetime trying to escape the pain of confinement, commitment, long-term relationships, but Brady knew there was no way he could turn his back on his own child.

He saw her in his mind’s eye, a round baby face, bright as a new silver dollar. Oh shit, oh shit, he was ill equipped for this. He thought of Jake Moncrief and how life could change in the blink of an eye. He thought of Annie. How good she’d been with the kids at the Fourth of July party.

And then he wished . . .

Brady wished for something he’d never wished for in his life. A wife, a real family of his very own, a place where he truly belonged.

How was that? The itinerant cowboy finally wanted a home.

A
nnie paced the cabin. She couldn’t seem to settle down or focus her thoughts.

Brady was building a life without her in it. This was good. This was right. This was how it should be. She could help Brady get his child and walk away guilt-free. She should be happy.

She was not.

Get over this. You cannot have him. Do something productive.

Taking a deep breath, she gathered up her jumbled emotions, stuffed them down deep inside the way she’d been taught a good princess did, and started cleaning out the storeroom. If Brady got custody of Orchid, he would need a nursery.

The work did her good. Even though she had to keep shooing the dogs out from underfoot. She moved boxes out to the outside storage shed, swept the floors, knocked down spiderwebs, cleaned the lone window that looked out over a field of scarlet paintbrushes. Sweat—no, perspiration; horses sweated, princesses perspired—pearled between her nose and her upper lip and ringed the collar of her shirt. Her hair was mussed and she was feeling a bit like a happy Cinderella when a knock sounded on the door, setting the dogs to barking. From the enthusiastic tone of their barks, she could tell that her caller was Brady.

Setting her broom aside, she smoothed away the cobwebs clinging to her jeans and went to throw open the door.

Brady stood on the porch holding a pizza box in one hand, a gallon of paint in the other. “It’s pink,” he said as her eyes strayed to the cans. “I hope I picked the right color.”

Joy zipped through her. He was moving in! “I just cleaned out the storeroom.”

Their eyes met.

“Great minds,” he murmured. “I thought we could have a nursery-painting pizza party.”

She looked over his shoulder. A party suggested more people. “Anyone else with you?”

“Party of two,” he said, stepping over the threshold only to be mobbed by the dogs. “Or maybe party of four.”

“Time for you two to go outside and play,” Annie said, shooing the dogs out and closing the door behind them. Her heart fluttered like a trapped parakeet in a cage and she couldn’t say why. She turned back to find Brady grinning at her.

“Food first?” he asked. “I hope you like pepperoni.”

“If you like pepperoni, I like pepperoni.”

He frowned. “You’ve never had pepperoni?”

She’d never had pizza. It was not exactly a culinary staple in the palace kitchen, but she could not tell him that. She shrugged.

“One of these days, Annie Coste, you’re going to have to come clean about who you are and what you’re running from.”