The Cowgirl Rides Away (Bluebonnet Texas Book 1) (19 page)

Judging from the rumblings coming from behind me, Maggie wasn't the only one upset with my opinion. Jerrod just squeezed my shoulder in agreement.

Turning my full attention on her, I said, "Yes, ma'am.
Unacceptable
."

"Let me tell you what's
unacceptable
—" She kept coming until she was just a step above me. Yes, she'd given herself the strategic advantage of height, but I'd spent half my life getting my ass kicked by horses and dealing with Marlene. I could handle one cranky old woman. "Please do."

I crossed my arms over my chest and waited.

"Jesus," Zack muttered as his dad moved out of my line of sight. "Jessa, please."

"Maggie—" Jerrod climbed the wide porch steps until he stood above me, "—don't do this."

"It's okay, sir."

"
Unacceptable
is my son meeting a strange woman on the
internet
.
Unacceptable
is said strange woman beating up my daughter-in-law—"

"Who was beating up your son!" I interjected. "But I suppose that's okay—as long as he hides until the bruises are gone?"

"You and I both know Rhea deserved that beating she took last night. No—" Jerrod held up a hand before she could speak again, "—two wrongs do not make a right, but you won't hear me complaining about what she said
or
what she did. Now drop it."

"Drop it?" Maggie asked, eyebrows raised, amid more urgent whispers.

From the corner of my eye, I noted Tim passing by with Travis in his arm and dragging a complaining Rene behind him. I assumed to remove them from the verbal line of fire.

"I always miss all the good shit!"

"Rene!"

"Sorry, Grandma!"

A red-faced Maggie turned back to me once Rene had disappeared. She waved a hand toward me. "And what do I tell people when they ask how those two met? Because people
will
be asking."

Susie spoke up from the bottom step. "Tell them it's none of their damned business."

I nodded my head in agreement, relieved to know I hadn't alienated everyone.

"Oh, so next Sunday when the good Reverend Dimwitty asks, and he will ask," she said while flapping her hands—an obvious sign of how agitated she was, "how they met, I say 'Revered, it's none of your damned business.' Hmm, is that right, Susie? Jerrod? It's bad enough Tim can't keep his pants zipped and Ty and Rhea—" she motioned over our heads and shook her own head, still unable or unwilling to acknowledge that there were worse things than your son meeting some girl on the internet. "I can't believe that out of five children, only one of them turned out worth a damn."

My jaw hit the ground and my guts tightened, because I knew Zack wasn't the one. Not with Travis in the picture.

"Thanks, Momma," Zack muttered.

Susie gasped. "Goddamnit, Margaret, how dare you? How dare you talk about your children that way!"

"And then there's you, Susie, carrying on with a man young enough to be your son. Pardon me. I need to...check...something. You—" she waved a hand in Jerrod's direction, "—deal with
your
family. I'm done." She turned on her heel, muttering, "This is all your fault anyway."

I watched it all unfold in horrified fascination, feeling more than a bit guilty for not keeping my mouth shut, for knowing Zack would never forgive me for this, for knowing I'd ruined some nice family's Sunday supper and caused a world-class yelling match between a very nice man and his…wife.

Apparently, Jerrod wasn't letting the missus off that easily. He gently nudged me out of the way and made to follow her. "Maggie Mae, don't you go blaming this on me!"

"Well who the hell should I blame it on?" she demanded, turning back to face him. "This whole entire mess,
all of it
, is your fault."

"Why does it have to be anyone's fault? Why does everything have to be someone's fault?"

"Because it is. It is and you
know
it!"

"Fine. Fine—" he threw up his hands, "—I want a divorce!"

That shut her up. And him too, at least for a moment. His declaration shocked us all into silence. My fingers tightened on the porch rail as I slowly backed down the steps while shaking my head.

"I didn't mean it. I didn't—"

"Apparently, you did." She slammed the kitchen door behind her.

"Jesus," Zack hissed, as Jerrod's head drooped and shoulders sagged.

I had no idea how the Boudreauxs had gotten here but this wasn't all about me. This…this had been festering a while.

Mr. Boudreaux descended the steps, shoving past all of us, and crossed the yard, heading for the barn. He passed Ty and Rhea without a word, then stopped and walked back to where they sat. "I want her off my property by sundown. If you choose to go with her, that's on you, son. But if she ain't gone, I'm calling Sheriff Townsend and having her arrested." With a quick rap of his knuckles on the picnic table, he continued toward the barn.

Rhea stood, a scowl on her face, her lips tight. "Fuck you Boudreauxes, anyway."

"Aunt Susie?" The question in Zack's voice was clear.

"I have no idea, son," Susie said, scowling in Rhea's direction until she disappeared around the side of the house as well.

I descended the few steps that separated Susie and myself and said, "A wise man once told me that marriages don't just
end
, they die."

She nodded thoughtfully. The expression on her face could only be called pensive. "Whoever said that is a very wise person indeed."

"Maybe you should get Jessa out of here," he muttered, unable to look at me.

Susie sighed again, or maybe that was me. At this point, it was hard to tell. "Go inside and check on your mama, Zack. I'm the last person she needs to see right now."

He climbed the stairs and crossed the porch, each step heavy and slow with obvious dread.

Zack was right. I should go. I
wanted
to go. Even more than I'd wanted to come here, I wanted to leave. I didn't belong here. It was at that moment I realized I didn't belong anywhere.

For one brief second, I'd tried to make Zack's family mine, but that was impossible.

"I know I'm not to blame, but…I do feel partially to blame. I should go."

"Oh please. You're more family than Rhea ever was."

We met each other's eyes, a million said and unsaid things between us, and in that moment I knew I'd found a real kindred spirit in Susie Boudreaux. It was too bad about me and Zack.

She grabbed my hand and dragged me across the yard to the barn. I didn't want to hear, didn't want to know.

It was none of my damned business.

A smart woman would have walked away and minded her own damn business. The good Lord knew I had plenty enough other stuff on my plate, including Kane. But, apparently, I wasn't a smart woman. Either that, or I was just slow.

We grimaced at one another, then I reluctantly eased open the barn door and allowed Susie to enter first. I followed, my boots scuffing against the concrete floor.

Jerrod leaned against the stall door of the bay gelding he favored.

"Brother," Susie said, resting a hand on his upper arm, "what's going on?"

He shook his head, unable to look at either one of us. I shoved my hands deep in my pockets, wishing I hadn't allowed Susie to drag me in here with her.

"My dad likes to hide in the barn too."

That, at least, earned me a smile.

"Whenever he and my step-mom fight. It's one of the reasons I don't go home to Montana much. Funny thing is, I used to think it was me, and sometimes it was me, but mostly it was him…and her. I know this is none of my business—"

"After what you did to Rhea last night, I don't mind." He cracked a smile, albeit a tiny one.

"I can't lie." I shrugged. "I enjoyed it."

"Not half as much as I enjoyed watching it," Susie interjected.

We all laughed softly, and the bay chuffed as if he had to get his two cents in. I leaned against the stall door, eyes on him, and said, "It's quiet out here."

"Horses don't judge."

With a weak smile, I said, "No, sir, they don't."

"Jerrod," Susie crossed her arms over her chest, "Divorce is a very serious step. I realize that neither of us have a right to stick our noses in your marriage…that's not entirely true. I'm your sister, so I get to stick my nose wherever the hell I want."

"I messed up," Jerrod said. "Badly."

"How badly," Susie coaxed.

I kept quiet, unsure why Susie had dragged me along and wishing I was anywhere else as I listened to Mr. Boudreaux confessing that he had another child. A daughter that no one knew about. An
unwanted
daughter that he hadn't seen or heard from until recently. His admission landed square in my backyard.

My jaw clenched as I reminded myself that shit was complicated, and that I
liked
Mr. Boudreaux—Jerrod—or, at least, I
had
liked him. I was trying very hard not to judge him, and failing.

"I promised Maggie." He sighed. "I promised Maggie that I wouldn't see her. I shouldn't have done that. It was wrong I know. And now," Jerrod continued, "she needs me." He grimaced, turned his head away and sniffed.

"You're her dad. Of course she needs you. She's
always
needed you," I finished for him. I recalled our first ride and how, at times, he'd looked so sad. "And you always let her down."

Susie glared at me, her silent censure reminding me that this was not my family, not my home. I nodded, then turned and silently exited the barn, walked past the still-smoking grill and the eerily silent house. Down the dirt and gravel road I went back to Susie's. In the house, the blast of cool air slapped me in my face as I made my way upstairs and packed my things. Once I was done, I grabbed my phone and dialed the last number that had called me.

"Can you come get me?"

"Where are you, baby girl?"

I gave Kane directions to the dancehall, grabbed my bags and loaded my car.

Time to go home.

Chapter Eighteen
Zack

Tim was gone, Ty was gone, and Zack was left holding the bag. Or, in this case, stuck having to talk to his mother. He didn't even know what to say to her or why he should even bother. He stepped into the kitchen just in time to watch her shove the bowl of potato salad onto the Formica counter. He should have been used to it by now, but her earlier words about how disappointing her children were had stung.

Just then, the phone rang and his mother flinched. Her eyes grew wide, her lips thinned and her face grew redder with each jangle of the phone.

"I'll get it." He stepped toward the cordless phone resting on the counter but his mother beat him to it, answering and just as quickly hanging up.

"Mind your own business, Zachary."

"Sorry I'm not your precious Zander who can't even be bothered to come home, but who cares since he got a degree in something useful, right?
Right
?" He slowly closed the distance between them while he spoke, "He's the one you brag about to all your church friends, isn't he? Your son. The big shot FBI agent. I wonder why he never comes home." He smirked the tiniest bit as a new thought occurred to him; he didn't mean to, it just happened. "Maybe he's as embarrassed of you as you are of us."

He might as well have slapped her. She inhaled sharply and her eyes widened. She backed away and then turned, disappearing around the corner and into the living room. He listened to her footsteps, tracking her up the stairs as he looked around the empty kitchen. There was always something cooking, always pots rattling or dishes being washed and always the scent of a fresh pot of coffee on, but not today. He couldn't lie, that little zinger had felt damned good.

His boots made the treads creak as he followed her upstairs and down the hall. He found her in the bedroom on the phone again.

"He's not available," she snapped, slamming down the phone.

She pulled a suitcase out of the closet and moved around the room. She never stopped packing, just moved from closet to dresser to the oversized suitcase on the bed.

Even as a grown man, entering his parents' bedroom seemed like a huge invasion of privacy. As kids, the room had been off limits unless you were small and had a nightmare or were sick. And even that was rare. Funny how he'd never really thought of his parents as anything more than his parents. Until the last couple of days, that is.

With his arms propped on either doorframe, Zack took a good look around, trying to see the room as an artist, as an adult. The queen-sized plantation bed had been his grandparents' and the age showed in the wood. The carpet was worn, an ancient green pattern that had been there since he was a kid. The bed was covered with a white chenille spread that also seemed worn somehow. The dresser and nightstands that matched the bed had that patina of old, well-loved wood and were covered with hand-crocheted doilies that were also made by his grandmother. The room seemed tidy but tired. You could tell it belonged to someone, but there didn't seem to be any warmth anymore.

"Did you want something, Zachary, or are you going to stand there and gloat?"

"Maybe you can go live with Zander. You want me to call him?" No, he didn't like her much just then. He didn't like himself much either, but he didn't like her even more. "What did we ever do to you? Huh? What did we do to make you hate us so much? Is it just that you're disappointed in us or…"

"Stay out of this, Zachary."

"I can't." He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his shoulder against the door frame. "You called me a disappointment. You said I disappointed you. You said I wasn't your son. You said I was Dad's son and not yours."

"I didn't mean it."

"I think you did," he said softly. "I got a degree just like Zander. So I came home with a son. At least I'm a good dad. But I guess that doesn't matter to you."

"Stop."

"I am a good father to my son and I work hard."

"Stop it, Zachary."

"But that's not good enough for you. You know what I think? I think you're kind of a bitch, Mom. Nothing's ever good enough for you and that's why Dad asked you for a divorce, 'cause he's tired of your shit." He chuckled softly almost to himself, uncaring of the hole he was probably digging. "And you know what? I don't blame him."