Kitabı oku: «Cowboy's Vow To Protect», sayfa 3

Chapter 3

“Pregnant?” Flint stared at her in stunned surprise. That was the last thing he expected to hear. “Don’t cry,” he told her, hating the tears that slid down her cheeks as tiny sobs escaped her.

“Madison, please don’t cry.” Hell, he didn’t know what to do with a crying woman...a pregnant crying woman at that.

“I... I...can’t help it. I di...didn’t want anyone to know,” she replied.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and jostled with his keys as he approached the sofa. “What can I do to make you stop crying? If I sing for you, will you stop? I’ll warn you I have a terrible singing voice. Mac always says when I was born the doctors should have twisted my vocal chords together to see if they could get anything better than croaks like a frog.”

A small laugh escaped her. It was exactly what he’d hoped to accomplish. He sank down next to her on the sofa as she stopped sobbing and instead began to wipe the tears off her cheeks.

“I won’t tell anyone, Madison. Your secret is safe with me. I swear I won’t tell anybody.” He hesitated a moment and then continued, “So who is the father? Can’t he help you out with whatever is going on?”

She dropped her hands to her lap. “There is no father.” She didn’t meet his gaze.

“Madison, there has to be a father,” Flint said gently.

“Not in this case.” Her gaze returned to his and her chin lifted with a hint of defiance.

“So it was one of those immaculate conceptions,” he replied. “I have to say, it’s been a while since one of those happened.”

Her cheeks flushed with a hot-pink color. “Okay, so there was a sperm donor, but he will never be a part of my life and he definitely will never be in this baby’s life.” Tears once again filled her eyes.

“Is this why you want to leave town?”

“It’s one of the reasons, but I have other reasons, too.”

He could tell by the look in her eyes that she wasn’t going to share any of those with him. “Madison, don’t you need to see a doctor? You’re getting sick every evening.”

“It’s morning sickness, Flint, only I have it in the evenings. It should be passing soon.”

He eyed her with concern. “I thought morning sickness only happened in the mornings.” Her wildflower scent threatened to distract him, but the conversation was far too important for any distraction.

“Morning sickness can happen anytime in the day.”

“Did a doctor tell you that?”

Her cheeks grew pink once again and her gaze skittered away from his. “I haven’t seen a doctor.”

“Then how do you know what you’re talking about?” He didn’t want to pry. He just wanted to make sure she was really okay.

“I went to the library and researched everything I could find on the subject.” Her gaze sought his again. “I’m fine, Flint. I promise you, there’s nothing for you to worry about. Besides, it’s not your job to worry about me.”

“Shouldn’t you see a doctor?” he asked again. She could tell him to not worry about her, but he couldn’t help it.

“Not in this town. I’ll see one as soon as I get settled wherever I’m going. Now, I’m sure you’re eager to get back to your work on the porch before the sun goes down.”

It was a dismissal. Reluctantly, he rose. “You’ll let me know if you need something special from the grocery store or the drugstore?”

She smiled at him. It was one of those sunshine smiles he remembered seeing on her face months ago. “You’re a very nice man, Flint McCay.”

A touch of warmth filled his face. “Thanks. I’ll just be outside if you need anything.”

Pregnant.

He walked around the cabin to the garage to retrieve his ladder, and his brain tried to work through the shock her secret had given him.

She must have been dating somebody to get in the condition she was in. Maybe when she told the man she was dating that she was pregnant, he’d reacted badly. No, that didn’t seem right because she didn’t want anyone to know about the pregnancy and that implied she hadn’t told the father-to-be.

As he began work on the porch roof, his mind continued to go through different scenarios. Maybe she and her lover just had a big fight and Madison decided on a whim to pack up and leave. Was that really what this was all about? A lover’s spat that had spun out of control? But even that didn’t feel right, not when he remembered the terror in her eyes.

Still, Flint believed the father had a right to know about the baby. He would never want a woman he dated to get pregnant and not tell him about the baby. Fathers had rights, too. He frowned. But if the man was abusive then all bets were off.

Maybe by the time her car was fixed she’d change her mind about leaving town. She’d reconcile with her boyfriend and they’d raise their baby together.

Flint had never known his own father. His mother hadn’t even known who his father was. He’d always wondered how his horrible childhood would have been better if his father had been in his life.

He reminded himself that Madison and her choices weren’t any of his business. Still, he hated to think of her pregnant and all alone in a strange, new place. Maybe he could talk her into going back to her trailer and staying here in Bitterroot. Surely she had friends in town who would help her. Heck, she could consider him a new friend who would do whatever he could to help her out.

He worked until the sun gave its last gasp and then he put his tools and ladder away and walked to the front door. He knocked and she answered.

“Coffee?” she asked. Her eyes seemed to simmer with a kind of faint desperation.

“Sure,” he replied. Like the night before he washed up in the sink and took a seat at the table while she made his cup of coffee.

“Are you feeling better now?” he asked as she put the coffee before him and then sat across from him.

“Much better. The nausea only lasts a few minutes and once it’s gone, it’s gone for the rest of the night.”

He took a sip of the hot drink and tried not to notice how pretty she looked. She wore a blue T-shirt that made her eyes appear even bluer. A pair of jeans hugged her still-slender body.

She was definitely easy on the eyes, not that it mattered to him. It also didn’t matter that whenever he was near her his body subtly warmed. He wasn’t looking for a woman in his life, but her current situation definitely concerned him. He wanted to somehow help her, but he wasn’t sure how, especially if she wasn’t going to share with him what was really going on.

At the moment he felt the same awkwardness he always felt when in the company of an attractive woman. He took another sip of his coffee and then stared down at the cup, trying to think of some way to get a little more information from her concerning the baby’s father.

“So tell me something about yourself, Flint,” she asked. “I know you were one of Cass Holiday’s lost boys, but tell me how you got lost.”

Everyone in town knew the story of the “lost boys” at Cass’s ranch. When Cass Holiday’s husband had died all her ranch help had walked out on her, believing she wasn’t strong enough, wasn’t smart enough, to run the big spread.

With the help of a social worker in Oklahoma City, Cass had staffed her ranch with young runaway boys who, for one reason or another, had vowed they would or could never go home again. Flint had been one of those boys.

“Or maybe you don’t want to talk about that,” she added hurriedly. “I don’t want to pry.”

“No, I don’t mind.” Maybe if he shared a little bit about his past life, it would help her trust him enough to tell him more about hers.

He drew a deep breath and once again looked down in his coffee cup as he accessed old, bad memories. He rarely thought of his childhood. He’d always considered that his life had really begun on the day he’d arrived at the Holiday Ranch.

“I don’t remember a time when my mother wasn’t a drug addict. What I do remember is back-alley dope deals, scary men in and out of our lives, and always moving from one dump to the next.”

He was deep in his memories now. “Initially she must have been doing meth. She’d be up for days and flying high. One time when I told her I was hungry, she swooped me up and danced me around the room and told me we didn’t need to eat. We could just live on peace and happiness. Of course little boys just sometimes need real food.”

“Oh, Flint, I’m so sorry.” He looked up into her warm, sympathetic gaze. “Was that what made you decide to run away?”

“No, it wasn’t that. I was too young then to even think about running away. It was when she exchanged meth for heroin that things took a really bad turn.”

He looked past her shoulder and continued, “I’d find her nodded out on the bathroom floor, or in her car with a needle still stuck in her arm. I begged her to stop. I begged her to get help, but she told me she loved the stuff and she was never going to stop. I tried to take care of her when she was dope sick. I’d clean up her vomit and I’d wipe her down when she was sweating and coming out of her own skin. I prayed every day that she wouldn’t die.”

He’d suppressed these memories for so long and now they unfurled in his brain like distant nightmares. As a child he’d been half-starved and rarely clean. His mother had used him to gain people’s sympathy and cash when they panhandled. He’d never, ever felt loved by her.

He looked back at Madison. “I loved my mother, but I learned pretty early on that she couldn’t love me back. But I knew I was watching her die. Finally, when I was thirteen I realized I couldn’t do anything to help her and I wasn’t going to stay around there and watch her die, so I left.”

It was the most words he had used at any one time and he was surprised by the emotion that filled his chest. Grief battled with guilt, a guilt that he had chosen to save himself instead of sticking by his mother’s side.

But there had been days and days of homelessness. When they did have a roof over their heads, it was usually a drug house where other addicts came to use. He’d seen his mother beaten and abused, and the taste of fear never left his mouth.

Madison’s touch to the back of his hand brought him back from that frightening place. “Sorry, that was probably way more information than you wanted,” he said ruefully. In fact, he’d just told her things that he’d never shared with anyone else.

“I’m just sorry you had to go through that.” She drew her hand back from his and instantly he felt a strange bereavement. He’d liked her touch. For just a brief moment he’d felt an odd connection to her.

“So what’s your story?” he asked.

She changed positions on the chair. “While my childhood wasn’t as horrifying as yours, we share a lot in common. My mother died from breast cancer when I was eight and my father was a raging alcoholic. What he wanted when my mother was gone, was to leave Bitterroot and start a single life someplace else, but unfortunately I was the albatross around his neck and he never, ever let me forget that he was stuck in Bitterroot because of me.”

Her pretty eyes darkened. “When I was young, he at least tried to hide his drinking, but by the time I was about twelve he didn’t even attempt to hide it. I’d find him passed out all over the house and I’d clean him up and get him into bed. The worst times were when he’d go out in the evenings to go to the Watering Hole. I’d wake up every morning hoping and praying that he’d made it home and wasn’t dead in a ditch. I don’t know why I cared. He never said a nice thing to me. I never felt his love, only his disdain and resentment toward me.”

He was surprised by his desire to touch her, to somehow take the darkness of her childhood out of her eyes, out of her memories. Before he could do anything like that, she released a laugh.

“And that was probably way more information than you wanted,” she said.

“Not at all,” he assured her. “I’m just sorry you had to live with that. So is your father still around?”

She shook her head. “Heavens, no. On the morning of my eighteenth birthday he packed up his truck with his personal belongings, told me I was on my own and he drove off and I never saw or heard from him again.”

He knew instinctively that now wasn’t the time to press her on any details about her pregnancy or try to change her mind about her choice to leave town.

“So you’ve been on your own since then?” he asked.

She nodded. “I got the job at the grocery store and paid my way. I’ve eaten a lot of Ramen noodles through the years when money got really tight, but I survived my father leaving me all on my own.”

“That took a lot of strength at that young age,” he said.

“I imagine it took you a lot of strength to run away when you’re thirteen years old,” she replied.

She gazed at him for a long moment. And it was finally he who looked away. The fact that he wouldn’t mind sitting here and talking to her longer unsettled him. Besides, it was getting late. “This has been nice, but I need to head out.” He drained the last of his coffee and carried the cup to the sink. She got up from the table and walked with him to the door.

“Thanks, Flint.”

He looked at her in surprise. “For what?”

“For coming in and spending some time with me. I like talking with you.”

“I like talking to you, too,” he replied. He was surprised to realize it was the truth. She was fairly easy to talk to. In fact, it still vaguely surprised him that he’d spoken so much about his past with his mother to her.

They said their good-nights and Flint got into his truck and headed back to the ranch. She liked talking to him. No woman had ever said that to him before and her words shot an unexpected warmth through him.

Suddenly, he couldn’t wait until the next night when he’d get an opportunity to talk with her again.

Monday just after noon Flint headed into town to pick up some supplies for Cookie and a new hat that Mac had ordered from the Western store.

Yesterday he’d gone to the cabin early and had gotten the roof up on the porch. Although he still had to tar paper and shingle it, at least it was nearly done.

Unfortunately, the work had nearly done him in. His back had screamed with pain by the time he knocked off work. But he’d then gone inside and sat with Madison for a little over an hour.

Once again he’d found it difficult to talk to her about her pregnancy and her apparently choosing to run away. Instead, they had talked about their jobs. He’d told her funny stories about the antics of his fellow cowboys when they’d been younger, and in turn she had told him funny stories about being a cashier at the grocery store.

The time had gone far too quickly and at least for that hour he’d forgotten his pain. The shared laughter had felt good and he hadn’t wanted to get serious with her and steal away the bright sparkle in her beautiful eyes.

He parked in front of the Western store first. There were racks of clothing, a wall full of cowboy boots on display and another wall filled with hats in various shapes and colors.

“Hey, Flint.” Russ Paxton, the owner of the store greeted him with a big smile.

“How’s it going, Russ?” The two men shook hands.

“Sales have been a little slow. What about you? Couldn’t you use a new pair of boots? And that hat you’re wearing is looking pretty beat up. Don’t you think it’s about time for a new one?”

Flint laughed. “No, thanks, I’m good for now, Russ. I’m here to pick up a hat for Mac. He said you ordered one for him and called him the other day to tell him it was in.”

“Indeed it is. I’ll just go fetch it from the back.” Russ turned and disappeared behind a curtained doorway.

The bell above the door tinkled and Flint turned to see Brad Ainsworth, Jim Browbeck and Zeke Osmond walk through the door. Flint nodded at Brad and Jim amicably, but had no such pleasantry for Zeke.

It was an odd group of men. Brad was the son of the mayor and had some political ambitions of his own. Jim was the well-liked chief of the volunteer fire department, and Zeke was a trouble-making ranch hand who worked for Raymond Humes, the man who owned the spread next to the Holiday Ranch.

“Hi, Flint,” Jim said. “We’re handing out fliers to everyone in town to announce a big bake sale next weekend at the community center.”

“The funds will all go to the fire department. We all know the town needs another truck and hopefully we can raise enough money to see that goal accomplished,” Brad said.

“Zeke, I didn’t realize you were the charitable type,” Flint said to the thin, dark-haired man who possessed weasel-like features.

“Chief Bowie thought it would be a good idea for me to help hand out fliers,” Zeke replied, his gaze not quite meeting Flint’s.

Flint wondered what Zeke had done to make Dillon give the man what sounded like a little community service. There was certainly no love lost between the men who worked for Raymond Humes and the men who worked for Cassie.

“Anyway, we’re trying to get the word out about the event,” Brad said.

“Here we are.” Russ came out from the back room with a hatbox in his hand. He greeted the other men who handed him a dozen or so fliers to hand out to customers and then they left the shop.

“Mac already paid for the hat, so you’re good to go...unless you want to replace that dusty old brown one you’ve got on your head,” Russ said with a twinkle in his eyes.

Flint laughed. “You’re a good salesman, Russ, but really I’m good for right now.”

Moments later he carried the hatbox to his truck, locked it up and then headed for the grocery store to pick up the things for Cookie.

As he walked he self-consciously touched the brim of his hat. He could use a new one, but what was the point? It wouldn’t be long before he would no longer be a cowboy.

This thought stabbed a pain straight through his chest. If not a cowboy, then who was he? What was he? Sooner or later he was going to have to figure it out, but he shoved these troubling thoughts away for now.

After buying the land and the supplies for the cabin, he still had a nest egg left that would allow him to live for a year or so without doing much of anything. But he couldn’t imagine being holed up in the cabin for a whole year without being productive.

It took him about forty-five minutes to shop and as Sherry Nielson, a pleasant middle-aged woman, checked him out, his brain immediately filled with thoughts of Madison.

He liked her. He liked her a lot. That surprised him. What surprised him even more was that despite knowing she was pregnant, he was extremely physically attracted to her.

He wanted to help her, but he didn’t know how. Although most of the time she was cheerful and bright, there were times when dark shadows filled her eyes, shadows that spoke of bad things.

He wanted her to share those with him. He’d never in his life wanted a woman to share her secrets with him, so what was so different about Madison?

He didn’t know the answer to that, and in any case it didn’t matter. Within a couple of days her car would be fixed and she’d be on her way.

When he arrived back at the ranch he pulled his truck around the cowboy motel to a back door that led into the kitchen area.

Cookie must have heard his approach as the man stood at the back door. The middle-aged man with his buzz-cut black hair and thickly muscled shoulders and arms looked more like a bodyguard than a man who loved to cook.

As usual, he wore no smile. Cookie had been at the ranch when Flint had first arrived. Flint had grown up with the man feeding him, but knew little more about him today than he had on the first day he’d met him.

“About time,” Cookie said.

“I didn’t dawdle too much,” Flint replied wryly.

“Hmm.” He began to grab the bags in the back of the truck, but before he did, Flint thought he caught a whisper of a smile from the taciturn man. Whenever one of the cowboys went to get supplies for Cookie, the man accused them of dawdling and taking too long.

It took only a few minutes to unload the groceries and then Flint headed for the stable where his duty for the day was shining up saddles and oiling up any leather paraphernalia. Thank goodness it was an easy job that wouldn’t require him to use his back or knees.

In fact, lately he’d had a lot of days of being assigned to the easier chores around the ranch. He wondered if Sawyer knew the pain he was in or if it was just some sort of a coincidence?

Minutes later he was in the tack room in the stable. The scent of hay and horses and leather wrapped around him with both familiarity and comfort.

Big Cass had been a tough boss. From the very beginning she’d demanded the boys work hard and take pride in the jobs they accomplished. She could be stern at times, but she’d given her “boys” a sense of self-respect that had been lacking in each of the runaways. She’d also provided stability in their lives, a stability that had allowed them all to grow to their full potential.

Even though she could be stern, she could also be extremely loving. She became their mother figure and all of the men had deeply mourned her death.

He wasn’t sure why he was thinking about her now. Maybe it was because he’d begun to mourn leaving this place, which had been home to him for so many years.

He had been working for about fifteen minutes or so when Mac came in. “Hey, how’s it going?” he asked.

Flint wiped his oily hands on a cloth and leaned against the workbench. “It’s going. I’ve got your new hat in my room. Feel free to go in and grab it whenever you want.”

“Thanks. I appreciate you picking it up for me.”

“It was no problem. I was going into town to get supplies for Cookie anyway.”

“How are things going at the cabin? You seem to be spending more time there in the evenings than usual.”

Flint felt a rise of heat in his cheeks and hoped it wasn’t evident to Mac. “I’ve got the porch up and I am in the process of shingling it.”

“That’s great. Once you have that done maybe you’ll be back to spending the evenings with us in the rec room,” Mac replied.

“Why, do you miss me?” Flint grinned at his friend.

“Nah, not me,” Mac replied with his own grin. His smile faded and a small frown etched across his forehead. “Are you okay, Flint?”

He tensed. “Sure, I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

Mac shrugged. “You’ve just seemed kind of distant for the past couple of weeks or so.”

“Distant? I haven’t meant to be. I’ve just had a lot on my mind with the work at the cabin.” The words were easy to say, but they weren’t the whole truth.

Mac looked at him for a long minute. “You’d tell me if there was anything wrong, right? You know you can always talk to me, right?”

Flint laughed and clapped his friend on the back. “I know that, Mac. Really, I’m good so there’s nothing for me to talk about. So what are you doing here anyway?”

“I’m about to start cleaning out stalls.”

“Ah, so you drew one of the fun jobs for the day.”

“Right, it’s always been my idea of a fun time when I get to shovel out horse dung. I guess I’ll get to it.”

Minutes later he was once again alone and he thought about what Mac had said. Even before Madison had been in his cabin he had been distancing himself from the other men. He had to do that because sooner rather than later he would be leaving the Holiday Ranch and these men who had been constants in his life since he was thirteen years old.

Oh, he knew when he finally left here, the other men would promise to stay in touch and maybe for a couple of months they would, but ultimately Flint knew he’d wind up alone in that cabin with only his pain for company.

Mac, Flint and Jerod had developed strong friendships over the years. Although all twelve of the men who had grown up here were bonded, the three men had forged a deeper friendship together. He would miss their company most of all.

He cast off the depression that threatened to creep over him. There would be plenty of time for that later. Right now he was still a cowboy and he still worked on the Holiday Ranch.

And today Madison would probably hear from Larry Wright about her car and it was possible that by tomorrow she would be on her way. He was surprised that the idea of her leaving depressed him more than just a little bit.

It was odd and surprisingly pleasant to be greeted at the front door with her beautiful smile. He’d come to look forward to their evening visits and he was definitely concerned about her.

His concern was not only because he now knew she was a pregnant woman all on her own. And if that wasn’t enough, he also suspected something terrible and violent might have happened to her. The thought of any man perpetrating violence on any woman surged a rich anger up inside him.

Had her boyfriend been abusive? Had he beaten her? Was he the one who had her so terrified all she could think about was leaving town? If that was the case then Flint would definitely like to know the name of the man responsible. But Madison wasn’t giving anything up.

He didn’t want to examine how his mood lifted later in the day when he left the ranch and headed for the cabin. When he pulled up front he was surprised when the door didn’t open and Madison didn’t appear.

Was it possible her car had been fixed and she had already left? Without even saying goodbye? He swallowed his disappointment. If that was the case then all that he could hope for was that wherever she went she would be safe and would find happiness. Even though he’d had very little time with her, he was surprised to realize he was definitely going to miss her.

The minute he opened the door he heard her. The sound of her sobbing came from the bedroom. What had happened? Had somebody found her here? His heart crashed against his ribs as he rushed toward the bedroom.