It was like pouring salt into an open wound, but he went into the other bedroom where she had stored her “New York” clothes. It was as if he had to check every missing sign of her inhabitance to verify her absence, a wounded and bewildered animal sniffing around for his mate before he sat down and howled his anger and loss at the world.
But when he opened the closet door he stared at the row of silk blouses, hung on satin-padded hangers and protected by plastic covers, the chic suits and lounging pajamas, the high-heeled shoes in a dozen colors and styles. A faint hint of her perfume wafted from the clothes, and he broke out in a sweat, staring at them.
Swiftly he went downstairs. Her books were still here, and her stereo system. She might be gone now, but she had left a lot of her things here, and that meant she would be back. She would probably come back during the day, when she would expect him to be gone, so she could pack the rest and leave without ever seeing him.
But if she were going back to New York, as she almost certainly had been planning, why had she taken her ranch clothes and left the city clothes?
Who knew why Madelyn did anything? he thought wearily. Why had she paid off the mortgage with her trust fund when she knew that was the one thing, given his past, that he would be unable to bear?
He’d never in his life been angrier, not even when he had sat in a courtroom and heard a judge hand over half his ranch to April. He hadn’t expected anything better from April, who had given him ample demonstration of just how vindictive and callous she could be. But when Maddie had blindsided him like that, she had really hit him hard and low, and he was still reeling. Every time he tried to think about it, the pain and anger were so great that they crowded out everything else.
Well, she was gone, so he’d have plenty of time to think about it now. But she would have a hell of a time getting back in to get her things while he was gone, because the first chance he got he was going to change the locks on the house.
For now, however, he was going to do something he hadn’t done even when April had done such a good job of wrecking his life. He was going to get the bottle of whiskey that had been in the cupboard for so many years and get dead drunk. Maybe then he would be able to sleep without Maddie beside him.
He felt like hell the next day, with a pounding head and a heaving stomach, but he dragged himself up and took care of the animals; it wasn’t their fault he was a damn fool. By the time his headache began to fade and he began to feel halfway human again, it was too late to go to the general store to buy new locks.
The next day the cows began dropping their calves. It was the same every time: when the first one went into labor and drifted away to find a quiet place to calve, the others one by one followed suit. And they could pick some of the damnedest places to have their calves. It was an almost impossible task for one man to track down the cows in their hiding places, make certain the little newborns were all right, help the cows who were in difficulty and take care of the calves who were born dead or sickly. Instinct always went wrong with at least one cow, and she would refuse to have anything to do with her new baby, meaning Reese had to either get another cow to adopt it or take it to the barn for hand-feeding.
It was three days before he had a minute to rest, and when he did he dropped down on the couch in an exhausted stupor and slept for sixteen hours.
It was almost a week after Madelyn had left before he finally got time to drive to Crook. The pain and anger had become an empty, numb feeling in his chest.
The first thing he saw as he passed Floris’s café was the white Ford station wagon parked out front.
His heart lurched wildly, and the bottom dropped out of his stomach. She was back, probably on her way to get the rest of her things. He parked next door in front of the general store and stared at the car, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel. The familiar anger exploded into the numb vacuum, and something became immediately, blindingly clear to him.
He wasn’t going to let her go. If he had to fight her in every court in the country, he was going to keep his ranch intact and she was going to stay his wife. He’d been glad to see the last of April, but there was no way he was going to let Maddie just walk out. She was carrying his baby, a baby that was going to grow up in his house if he had to tie Maddie to the bed every day when he left.
He got out of the truck and strode toward the café, his boot heels thudding on the wooden sidewalk, his face set.
He pushed open the door and walked inside, standing in the middle of the room as he surveyed the booths and tables. There was no long-legged blonde with a lazy smile at any of them, though two lean and bandy-legged cowboys straddled stools at the counter.
Then the kitchen door opened and his long-legged blonde came through it, wrapped in an apron and carrying two plates covered with enormous hamburgers and mounds of steaming French fries. She flicked a glance at him and neither changed expression or missed a beat as she set the plates in front of the cowboys. “Here you go. Let me know if you want any pie. Floris baked an apple cobbler this morning that’ll make you cry, it tastes so good.”
Then she looked at him with those blank, cool eyes and said, “What can I get for you?”
The cowboys looked around, and one coughed when he saw who Madelyn was talking to; Reese pretty well knew everybody in a hundred-mile range, and they knew him, too, by sight if not personally. Everyone also knew Madelyn; a woman with her looks and style didn’t go unnoticed, so it was damn certain those two cowboys realized it was her husband standing behind them looking like a thunderstorm about to spit lightning and hail all over them.
In a calm, deadly voice Reese said, “Bring me a cup of coffee,” and went over to fold his long length into one of the booths.
She brought it immediately, sliding the coffee and a glass of water in front of him. Then she gave him an impersonal smile that didn’t reach her eyes and said, “Anything else?” She was already turning to go as she said it.
He snapped his hand out, catching her wrist and pulling her to a halt. He felt the slenderness of her bones under his fingers and was suddenly, shockingly aware of how physically overmatched she was with him, yet she had never backed away from him. Even in bed, when he had held her slim hips in his hands and thrust heavily into her, she had wrapped those legs around him and taken everything he could give her. Maddie wasn’t the type to run, unless leaving was something she had planned from the beginning. But if that were so, why was she here? Why hadn’t she gone back to New York, out of his reach?
“Sit down,” he said in a low, dangerous voice.
“I have work to do.”
“I said to sit down.” Using his grip on her wrist, he pulled her down into the booth. She was still watching him with those cool, distant eyes.
“What are you doing here?” he snapped, ignoring the looks the two cowboys were giving him.
“I work here.”
“That’s what I meant. What the hell are you doing working here?”
“Supporting myself. What did you expect me to do?”
“I expected you to keep your little butt on the ranch like I told you to.”
“Why should I stay where I’m not wanted? By the way, if you can figure out a way to get the car home, feel free to take it. I don’t need it.”
With an effort he controlled the anger and impatience building in him. It might be just what she wanted, for him to lose his temper in a public place.
“Where are you staying?” he asked in a voice that showed the strain he was under.
“Upstairs.”
“Get your clothes. You’re going home with me.”
“No.”
“What did you say?”
“I said no. N-O. It’s a two-letter word signifying refusal.”
He flattened his hands on the table to keep himself from grabbing her and giving her a good shaking, or from pulling her onto his lap and kissing her senseless. Right at the moment, he wasn’t certain which it would be. “I’m not putting up with this,
Maddie. Get upstairs and get your clothes.” Despite himself, he couldn’t keep his voice down, and the two cowboys were openly staring at him.
She slid out of the booth and was on her feet before he could grab her, and he was reminded that, when she chose, Maddie could move like the wind. “Give me one good reason why I should!” she fired back at him, the chill in her eyes beginning to heat now.
“Because you’re carrying my baby!” he roared, surging to his own feet.
“You’re the one who said, quote, that you didn’t care what the hell I did and that you regret marrying me, unquote. I was carrying the baby then, too, so what’s different now?”
“I changed my mind.”
“Well, bully for you! You also told me that I’m not what you want and I don’t have what it takes to be a ranch wife. That’s another quote.”
One of the cowboys cleared his throat. “You sure look like you’ve got what it takes to me, Miss Maddie.”
Reese rounded on the cowboy with death in his eyes and his fist clenched. “Do you want to wear your teeth or carry them?” he asked in an almost soundless voice.
The cowboy still seemed to be having trouble with his throat. He cleared it again, but it took him two tries before he managed to say, “Just making a comment.”
“Then make it outside. This is between me and my wife.”
In the West, a man broke his own horses and killed his own snakes, and everybody else kept their nose the hell out of his business. The cowboy fumbled in his pocket for a couple of bills and laid them on the counter. “Let’s go,” he said to his friend.
“You go on.” The other cowboy forked up a fry covered in ketchup. “I’m not through eating.” Or watching the show, either.
Floris came through the kitchen door, her sour expression intact and a spatula in her hand. “Who’s making all the noise out here?” she demanded; then her gaze fell on Reese. “Oh, it’s you.” She made it sound as if he were about as welcome as the plague.
“I’ve come to take Maddie home,” he said.
“Don’t see why she’d want to go, you being so sweet-tempered and all.”
“She’s my wife.”
“She can wait on men here and get paid for it.” She shook the spatula at him. “What have you got to offer her besides that log in your pants?”
Reese’s jaw was like granite. He could toss Madelyn over his shoulder and carry her home, but even though he was willing to bully her, he didn’t want to physically force her. For one thing, she was pregnant, but more important, he wanted her to go home with him because she wanted to. One look at her face told him that she wasn’t going to willingly take a step toward the ranch.
Well, he knew where she was now. She hadn’t gone back to New York. She was within reach, and he wasn’t giving up. With one last violent look at her, he threw his money on the table and stomped out.
Madelyn slowly let out the breath she’d been holding. That had been close. He was evidently as determined to take her back to the ranch as he was to believe she was a clone of his first wife. And if she knew one thing about Reese Duncan, it was that he was as stubborn as any mule, and he didn’t give up. He’d be back.
She picked up his untouched coffee and carried it back to the counter. Floris looked at the door that was still quivering from the force with which Reese had slammed it, then turned to Madelyn with the most incredible expression on her face. It was like watching the desert floor crack as her leathered skin moved and rearranged itself, and a look of unholy glee came into her eyes. The two cowboys watched in shock as Floris actually smiled.
The older woman held out her hand, palm up and fingers stiffly extended. Madelyn slapped her own hand down on it in victory, then reversed the position for Floris’s slap as they gave each other a congratulatory low five.
“Wife one, husband zero,” Floris said with immense satisfaction.
HE WAS BACK the next day, sliding into a booth and watching her with hooded eyes as she took care of the customers. The little café was unusually busy today, and he wondered with a sourness that would have done credit to Floris if it was because word of their confrontation the day before had spread. There was nothing like a free floor show to draw people in.
She looked tired today, and he wondered if she’d been sick. She’d had a few bouts of nausea before she’d left, but her morning sickness hadn’t been full-blown. From the way she looked now, it was getting there. It made him even angrier, because if she’d been at home where she belonged she would have been able to lie down and rest.
Without asking, she brought a cup of coffee to him and turned to go. Like a replay of the day before, his hand shot out and caught her. He could almost feel everyone’s attention fastening on them like magnets. “Have you been sick?” he asked roughly.
“This morning. It passed when Floris fed me some dry toast. Excuse me, I have other customers.”
He let her go because he didn’t want another scene like yesterday’s. He sipped the coffee and watched her as she moved among the customers, dispensing a smile here and a teasing word there, drawing laughter and making faces light up. That was a talent of hers, finding amusement in little things and inviting others to share it with her, almost enticing them. She had done the same thing to him, he realized. The nine months she’d spent with him had been the most contented of his life, emotionally and physically.
He wanted her back. He wanted to watch the lazy way she strolled around the house and accomplished miracles without seeming to put forth much effort at all. He wanted her teasing him, waking him up with some outlandish bit of trivia and expecting him to match it. He wanted to pull her beneath him, spread her legs and penetrate her body with his, make her admit that she still loved him and would rather be with him than anywhere else.
He didn’t understand why she wasn’t in New York, why she had only come as far as Crook and stopped, knowing he would soon find her. Hell, running to Crook wasn’t running away at all, it was simply moving a little piece down the road.
The only answer was that she had never intended to go back to New York. She hadn’t wanted the big city; she had just wanted to get away from him.
The memory of all he’d said to her played in his mind, and he almost flinched. She remembered every word of it, too; she had even quoted some of them back to him. She’d told him at the time that he would regret saying them, but he’d been too enraged, feeling too betrayed, to pay any attention to her. He should have remembered that Maddie gave as good as she got.
She could so easily have gone to New York; she had the money in her checking account to do whatever she wanted, and Robert would welcome her back without question. So if she had stayed it had to be because she liked living in Montana. Even the question of revenge could just as easily have been played out from New York as from Crook, because it was her absence from his house that was punishing him. The emptiness of it was driving him crazy.
Eventually she came back by with the coffeepot to refill his cup and ask, “Do you want some pie with that? It’s fresh coconut today.”
“Sure.” It would give him an excuse to stay longer.
The café eventually had to clear out some. The customers had other things they had to do, and Reese hadn’t done anything interesting enough to make them stay. When Madelyn coasted by to pick up his empty dessert saucer and refill his cup she asked, “Don’t you have any work to do?”
“Plenty. The cows dropped their spring calves.”
Just for a second her eyes lit; then she shrugged and turned away. He said, “Wait. Sit down a minute and rest. You haven’t been off your feet since I got here and that’s been—” he stopped to check his watch “—two hours ago.”
“It’s been busy this morning. You don’t stop working a herd just because you want to rest, do you?”
Despite himself, he couldn’t help grinning at her comparison between a herd of cattle and her customers. “Sit down anyway. I’m not going to yell at you.”
“Well, that’s a
change,” she muttered, but she sat down across from him and propped her feet on the seat beside him, stretching her legs out. He lifted her feet and placed them on his knee, rubbing the calves of her legs under the table and holding her firmly in place when she automatically tried to pull away.
“Just relax,” he said quietly. “Should you be on your feet this much?”
“I’d be on my feet if I were still at the ranch. I didn’t cook sitting down, you know. I feel fine. I’m just pregnant, not incapacitated.” But she closed her eyes as his kneading fingers worked at her tired muscles; he had a good touch, one learned from years of working with animals.
He had a good touch in bed, too. Every woman should have a lover like Reese, wild and hungry, as generous with his own body as he was demanding of hers. The memories pooled in her stomach like lava, raising her temperature, and her eyes popped open. If she let herself think about it too much, she would be in his lap before she knew what she was doing.
Reese said, “I want you to come home with me.”
If he had been angrily demanding she could have met him with her own anger, but his quiet tone invited instead of demanded. She sighed and leaned her elbows on the table. “My answer is still the same. Give me one good reason why I should.”
“And my answer is still the same. You’re carrying my baby. It deserves to have its heritage, to grow up on the ranch. You even told me that was one of the reasons you paid the mortgage, to preserve the ranch for our children.”
“I haven’t taken the baby away from Montana,” she pointed out. “I haven’t even gone far from the ranch. The baby will have you and the ranch, but I don’t have to live there for that to be possible.”