Beth, on the other hand, had a romantic, fairy-tale belief that marriage should last a lifetime; that despite the ups and downs, a couple should cling to each other, give to each other, help each other through any crisis. Even though, considering her ill-fated relationship with Jenner, she’d been proved wrong already.
“What does Stan think of all this?” Harriet asked.
Beth sighed. She hadn’t confided in Stan, the man she’d been dating and thought she might marry one day. “I haven’t told him. I thought I should tell Jenner first.”
Harriet clucked her tongue and poured them each a glass of wine. “You may not know it, honey, but you need this.” Harriet handed her daughter a long-stemmed glass, then sipped from her own.
“How’s he doing?” Beth asked, taking a swallow of wine.
“Jenner?” Harriet shrugged and settled into a worn kitchen chair. “Ornery as ever, I’ve heard. He’s not paralyzed like they first thought, but one of his legs isn’t working right. Mandy Crawford—she knows Kiki, the McKees’ cook—says Jenner’s as mean as a nest of yellow jackets in October. Always angry. Kiki has to walk on eggshells around him.”
“But he is walking?”
“I haven’t seen him myself, but that’s what I hear.”
Relieved to hear that he wasn’t going to be confined to a wheelchair, Beth took another sip of wine, then set the glass on the counter. She couldn’t put off the inevitable. “I hope you don’t mind watching Cody while I go break the news,” she said.
One of Harriet’s arched brows lifted a fraction. “Aren’t you going to take him with you?”
“Not yet. I think I should do this one step at a time.”
Harriet smiled at her grandson who was covered in cookie crumbs. “Well, that’s just fine with me. How about you, pumpkin? How would you like to stay with Grandma and fix supper for Grandpa Zeke?” She took a long swallow from her glass. “Of course, we won’t start for awhile. He doesn’t get home from the swing shift till later.”
Cody’s eyes clouded a little, but Harriet didn’t seem to notice. “Now if Jenner gives you any trouble, you just leave him to stew in his own juices. And don’t let him intimidate you just because he’s got McKee attached to his first name. We may not have as much clout in this valley as the McKees do, but we’re family just the same. I’m here for you, and you know that Zeke will be, too.”
“Thanks, Mom,” Beth said, “but I’ll be fine.” She let the remark about Zeke slide. So far, her mother’s marriage seemed to be holding together, but Beth didn’t kid herself. Zeke didn’t give two cents what happened to his wife’s daughter. He had enough children and grandchildren of his own to worry about. Beth and Zeke weren’t close and never would be. After her own father had left, Beth knew better than to expect anything more than cordiality from any one of her mother’s husbands.
This included Zeke Forrester, a silent man who had barely glanced up from his newspaper on the night Beth had left town after making the announcement that she was pregnant and was moving away from Rimrock forever.
Harriet finished her glass of wine. “He thinks of you as his, honey.”
Beth didn’t believe it, but she held her tongue. Let her mother spin her little fantasies. When Harriet was in love, she adored her spouse. When the love faded, Harriet didn’t believe in holding on to old baggage and she divorced the man promptly. No hard feelings. No badmouthing. No alimony. And no children. Except for Beth, Harriet had always made a clean break. Beth had often wondered if her conception had been a mistake, but she supposed it didn’t matter. Throughout all the pain of growing up, she’d never doubted her mother’s love. “I’ll see you later then.”
“Okay, but before you go, I want to give you a little advice.” She lifted the bottle and filled up her glass again. “I know that Jenner hurt you and I don’t want it to happen again.”
“He didn’t mean to—”
“Don’t go protecting him, okay? Look, Beth, I’ve known a lot of men in my life and not one of them—well, aside from Zeke maybe—is worth a broken heart. If you think you’ve got to tell Jenner about Cody, so be it. I won’t interfere, but don’t let yourself get all brokenhearted again.”
“I wasn’t ever—”
“Shh. Just remember. Jenner McKee’s no saint.”
With her mother’s words still nagging at her, Beth drove to the McKee ranch. A blanket of darkness had settled over the valley, and the Blue Mountains, rising like sentinels in the distance, seemed to blend into the sky. She’d forgotten how black the nights were here, outside of the lights of the city. With only a quarter moon and a few stars winking behind a thin veil of clouds, the night seemed vast and endless.
Her stomach was in knots, her hands sweating at the thought of seeing Jenner again. Did he know? Had his grandmother warned him that she would be returning? Would he remember her? It wasn’t as if they’d had a long affair.
Oh, Lord, how had it come to this?
The beams of her headlights splashed upon the row of trees lining the drive of the Rocking M Ranch. Her heart began to drum wildly as she turned off the highway.
What would she say? What could she?
Her stomach cramped with fear, the numbing fear that Jenner might demand custody of his son. Well, it wouldn’t happen. She wouldn’t let it happen. She’d never, never give up her child.
The ranch house was nearly dark, light shining from only one window as she parked near the garage and sent up a quick little prayer for strength.
Crossing her fingers, she climbed out of the old Chevy and stopped dead in her tracks when she noticed the charred ruins of the stables—ashes blowing in the wind, blackened beams and pipes, a pile of useless, burned rubble.
She imagined the horror that Jenner had lived through and felt a stab of guilt for her own selfish interests. How would it feel to survive a raging inferno wild enough to consume a huge building? In her fervor to keep her son, she’d thought of little else, not even the sheer terror and pain that Jenner must have experienced. Hadn’t that been why his grandmother had written her in the first place?
A breeze, cool with the breath of autumn, whipped her hair and brought the smell of ash and burned wood to her nostrils. She hiked the collar of her jacket up around her neck as she walked on wooden legs across the asphalt lot to the path leading to the front door. There was no time for turning back or second-guessing herself. As she stepped onto the porch, a low growl rolled through the air. The hair on the back of her neck rose as she spied a dog lying under a decrepit rocker, his eyes glowing with the reflection of the security lights. “It’s okay,” she heard herself saying. “Good boy.”
The animal’s tail gave a short thump. Determination mingled with fear as she pushed the doorbell and waited, hearing the chimes peal softly.
But then there was nothing. Not even the sound of a footstep on the floor.
Again she rang the bell and waited, the seconds ticking by slowly in contrast to her rapid heartbeat.
Not a sound.
“Come on, come on,” she muttered, pounding loudly on the doorframe. This time the dog let out a sharp bark.
“It’s open!” a male voice roared and she suddenly could barely breathe.
She would recognize that voice even if she hadn’t seen Jenner McKee in fifty years. It was a voice that still haunted her dreams and belonged to a man she’d never forget. Cody’s father.
The screen door creaked as she opened it and her hands were clammy. She wiped them on her jacket and walked slowly through the darkened hall and toward a sliver of light shining through a partially opened door.
“God help me,” she whispered as she stepped into a den and found Jenner, propped up in an old recliner, a glass in his hand. He looked just as she remembered him, ranch tough and cynical, his eyes slitting a little. Faded work shirt, worn jeans, scuffed cowboy boots, unshaven jaw—the image of the cowboy still intact. “Hello, Jenner,” she said, forcing a smile so brittle she thought it might crack.
His gaze raked up and down her body and he rolled his empty glass in his hand before his eyes found hers again. With a look of undisguised disgust he asked, “Who the hell are you?”
Chapter Two
Beth didn’t move a muscle. “You don’t remember me.” It wasn’t a question, just a simple statement of fact that shattered all her silly dreams. What had been so special to her had meant nothing to him. Nothing!
“Should I?” he said, glowering at her. She noticed crutches propped against the end of the couch, a wheelchair tucked into a corner near the bookcase and a half-filled bottle of some kind of whiskey on the table.
She managed a thin smile. “It would make things easier.”
“Things? What things?”
“I’ll get to them, but for now I think you should know that I’m Beth Crandall.” Was there just the flicker of memory in his blue eyes? “Until I finished college, I lived here most of my life with my mother.”
“And I knew you?”
“Not really.” She remembered silently adoring him from afar. A real cowboy who won awards riding in rodeos all over the country. A man who had shunned his inherited wealth and given his father nothing but grief. A rebel. She’d been only sixteen when she’d first seen him in a local rodeo and since that time she’d fantasized about what it would be like to be the woman who might tame his wild spirit.
What a fool.
“You and I saw each other briefly about three years ago.”
His eyebrows knit. “I’ve seen a lot of women briefly,” he said, suddenly wary. The lines near the corners of his mouth deepened. “So why’re you here?”
Oh, God, he’s not making this any easier. Her throat felt hot and tight. “Actually, we spent a night together.”
“Just one?”
“Yes.”
“Too bad.” He snorted, but didn’t comment further, and Beth realized he didn’t remember their lovemaking at all. For nearly three years, she’d dreamed of it, remembered the passion, the soul-jarring explosion of desire, the afterglow that was just long enough for rest before he kissed her again, his arms wrapped possessively around her.... Blushing foolishly, she realized that her fingers had curled into tight fists. Slowly she straightened each one as she walked all the way into the den until she was standing in front of him.
“This isn’t easy for me,” she admitted, staring down at him sprawled haphazardly in the recliner. Even unshaven and wearing clothes that hadn’t seen a washer for quite a while, he was sexier than any man had the right to be.
“So get on with it. Oh, hell, I forgot all about my manners,” he said with undisguised sarcasm. “How about a drink?” He reached for the bottle.
Yes! “No. I think one of us should be clearheaded.”
“Your choice.” He raised his glass and gave her a wicked smile that once would have melted her heart. “It ain’t gonna be me.”
She saw it then—the anger in his sharp gaze. Fury, dark and deep, colored his eyes to a reclusive shade of midnight. In her peripheral vision she noticed the wheelchair. Though she knew that thousands of disabled people lived productive, normal lives, she couldn’t imagine Jenner unable to walk or ride or make love.... He was just too tough, too independent, too damned stubborn.
Her heart gave a little lurch and she tried to ignore it, but as she watched him pour a thin stream of liquor into his glass, she remembered the cowboy she hadn’t been able to tame. He’d been as reckless and free as the northern winds sweeping down from the mountains. Tall and lanky, he’d walked with a swagger, offered women a grin guaranteed to break their hearts, and loved no one but himself. Cowboy tough, with muscles honed from years in the saddle—not just on the rodeo circuit, but on the ranch where he’d grown up as the rebellious second son of the richest man in the county—Jenner McKee would never be able to accept living his life bound to a wheelchair. He was just too damned proud.
He took a long swallow of his drink, then reached for his crutches. He eyed her again without quite so much hostility. “So what is it you’re doing here? I assume you came to see me, since everyone else is gone and you haven’t asked about them.” With a grunt he pulled himself up right. “So, is this just a friendly little chat, or did you come to get a good look at me to see if I’m in one piece, or do you really have something to talk about?”
She screwed up her courage as he, using the crutches for support leaned on the padded braces that tucked under his arms. “I think I’d better talk to you when you’re sober.”
“Now’s as good a time as any.”
True, he didn’t seem drunk, but she didn’t know how long he’d been sitting alone in the dark with only a bottle for company. He took a hobbling step and was suddenly so close to her that she caught a whiff of the scent that had been his that one night long ago—soap, leather and male all tangled in a smell so distinctly Jenner it couldn’t be disguised by the liquor. Her insides turned to water.
“I think I should remember you.”
“That would help,” she said, her voice husky. He was so close. Too close. But at least one of his legs worked and his back seemed to support him. He almost seemed as virile as before.
“Beth ... that was it, right?”
She was dying inside. This was the father of her child and he had trouble remembering her name. “Yes.”
“What’d you come here for?” His smile was devastating, but his voice bitter. “Don’t tell me. You’re lonely, remembered that we’d been together and wondered if I could still get it up.”
Her fantasy shattered, and shock must have registered on her face.
“No?” Swaying a little, he reached for his drink. “Then maybe you’ve come here to read to me from the Bible, just to let me know about the joy in life and the fact that God has a plan for everyone even a heathen like me and the reason he decided to have a beam fall down and crush my back was to make me look into my real self, find my soul. If that’s why you’re here, sister, forget it. I’ve already talked to Reverend Jacobson and I don’t think he’ll be back,” He snorted with some kind of grim satisfaction, and when she didn’t respond, he lifted a finger as if a sudden light had flicked on in his mind. “Or, if it’s not a personal reason, or a calling from the Almighty Himself, maybe you want me to do a little work for you. Got some steers you want branded? Or maybe a wild colt that needs breakin’ or—”
“Stop it!” she screamed, suddenly angry. She couldn’t believe how hard and cruel and jaded he’d become. Where was the laughter she remembered, the look of irreverence she’d found so endearing, the knowing smile? “Look, Jenner, I don’t want you to work for me, I don’t care what religion you profess to not believe in, and I certainly didn’t come all the way over here to ask you to sleep with me!”
“Then I guess we don’t have anything to talk about.”
“Just your son!”
The words seemed to echo from the beams and walls of the old ranch house. Jenner reacted as if he’d been slapped, stepping back quickly, nearly falling over, then recovering to stare at her long and hard, not saying a word. His face turned stark as granite, the set of his mouth unforgiving, as if she’d crossed some invisible moral line.
Seconds ticked by, measured by the rapid thudding of her heart.
“My son?” he finally hissed, though no trace of emotion registered on his face.
“Yes.”
“And yours, I assume.”
“Of course.”
“Of course.” Slowly he reached for his drink. “So you’re claiming that you and I slept together, what, a few years ago—?”
“Nearly three, when you were in Dawson City for the rodeo. You won the—”
“I remember that, but I sure as hell don’t remember you.” His nostrils flared slightly. “But you’re trying to tell me that you and I met somewhere, ended up in bed, and the result of this one night of passion is your—wait a minute, our—son. Am I following so far?”
“That’s right,” Beth said firmly, though she saw the doubt in his
eyes, the skepticism carved in the hard line of his jaw. “His name’s Cody.”
“But you didn’t bother telling me until now because... why?” She could almost see the wheels turning in his mind. “Oh, no, don’t tell me. Let me guess. I was just a dirt-poor rodeo jock, right? But now that my rich daddy’s passed on, you think I might be worth a small fortune and because of this accident I wouldn’t be able to scare up a sperm sample, so if the blood types are close enough, you could pawn your kid off on me. Is that what this is all about? A shakedown?”
She was flabbergasted. “A shakedown? You think I’m here for your money? Are you serious?”
“Are you?”
“About your money? Oh, God, no!”
“Then what—why show up here?”
“Because it was time!” she snapped, her temper escalating with all his outlandish insults. “If you want to know the truth—”
“That would help.”
“—I didn’t want to come here in the first place, but I felt it was my duty.” She thought about showing him his grandmother’s letter, but decided that that was between him and the older woman. The letter might cloud the issue. All she needed to do was explain about Cody—noth—ing else.
“So now you’re duty is done.”
That was all he could say? After learning that he had a child? Well, that’s what she wanted, wasn’t it? She didn’t really expect him to smile, throw his arms around her and tell her that she’d changed his life, did she? She should be pleased that he wasn’t interested in Cody, that she wouldn’t have to give up her son on weekends or vacations. “Okay, so now that I’ve said my piece, there’s really no reason for me to stay.”