Kitabı oku: «Operation Cowboy Daddy»

CARLA CASSIDY is an award-winning, New York Times bestselling author who has written more than one hundred and twenty novels for Mills & Boon. In 1995, she won Best Silhouette Romance from RT Book Reviews for Anything for Danny. In 1998, she won a Career Achievement Award for Best Innovative Series from RT Book Reviews. Carla believes the only thing better than curling up with a good book to read is sitting down at the computer with a good story to write.

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Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter 1

This was Tony Nakni’s favorite time, when the day slowly faded and took on the slightly purple shades of dusk as the sun sank behind the horizon.

He sat outside, in front of his bunk-room door, and drew in a deep breath of the early September evening air. Cicadas clicked and whirred their songs from nearby trees and a cow lowed from the pasture in the distance.

The twelve-unit bunkhouse was quiet for now, but Tony knew it was the calm before a brief storm. In the next half hour or so most of the other cowboys would explode out of their rooms, all of them cleaned up and ready for a Saturday night out on the town.

They’d all head to the Watering Hole. The bar was the place to go for drinking, playing pool or dancing in the small town of Bitterroot, Oklahoma.

Tony only rarely joined the other men on their weekly foray of cutting loose after a long week of work on the ranch. He preferred to unwind by watching the sunset, having a beer and, until recently, talking to Dusty Crawford, who had lived in the bunk room next to Tony’s.

But two weeks ago, Dusty had moved from the Holiday ranch into a house in town with Trisha Cahill and her three-year-old son, Cooper. Dusty had chosen a life path that Tony had no interest in following. Tony had been alone for as long as he could remember and he was most comfortable that way.

He reached down and grabbed a beer from the small cooler at his feet. He twisted off the top, tossed the lid into the cooler, took a sip and leaned back in his chair.

In the distance, lights began to glow from the windows of the big house where Cassie Peterson lived. It was hard to believe that it had been almost five months since owner Cass Holiday had been killed in a spring tornado that had ripped through the area. Everyone had been surprised to learn that she’d left the ranch to her niece, Cassie. Cassie was New York City born and raised and since she’d taken over the ranch there had been many adjustments.

The sixty-eight-year-old Cass had been the only person Tony had completely trusted on the face of the earth. All of the cowboys on the ranch had been a bit lost since her death.

He shoved thoughts of Cass out of his head and instead focused his attention on the colorful sunset currently taking place in the western sky. As far as he was concerned, Bitterroot, Oklahoma, was a little piece of heaven on earth.

He turned his attention to the right as he heard a door open and then smelled the scent of minty soap and heavy spicy cologne.

“Hey, brother.” Sawyer Quincy greeted Tony with a grin. “Why don’t you splash on some good-smelling stuff and come with us into town. Maybe you can find yourself a sexy female to warm your cold, lonely bed.”

Tony grinned back at the tall, russet-haired cowboy. “You have enough smelly stuff on for the both of us. Besides, you never come home with a female. You’re usually carried back from town by the other men.”

Sawyer’s inability to hold his liquor was legendary. It took only a couple of beers for him to be half-comatose. “Don’t remind me,” he said ruefully. “It’s embarrassing that I can ride a wild bronco and wrestle a steer to the ground in record time, but I can’t drink more than three or four beers without getting totally plastered.”

“Have you ever considered not drinking beer at all?”

Sawyer looked at him in mock horror. “What kind of a cowboy doesn’t drink beer?”

Before Tony could reply, several other ranch hands made an appearance from around the corner of the building. Adam Benson, the ranch foreman, was followed by Mac McBride, Brody Booth and Clay Madison.

“You keeping the home fires burning again tonight, Tony?” Adam asked.

“Yeah, I’m looking forward to nothing more exciting than a good night’s sleep,” he replied.

“I’ll kiss a beautiful lady for you,” Clay said with his usual bravado. “Heck, maybe I’ll kiss two.”

Tony laughed. “Clay, if you actually did as much as you talked, you’d be a real legend. As it is, you’re only a legend in your own mind,” Tony teased.

The others hooted with laughter. There was a bit more ribbing of each other and then they all headed to the outbuilding, where the vehicles were parked. Minutes later headlights wove through the semidarkness in the direction toward town.

Tony finished his beer and grabbed a second one. Tomorrow was Sunday and in the rotation of the ranch work, it was a day he was off duty.

He had no real plans for the next day. He might go into town and see about getting a new pair of boots, or he might not. He tried to live in the moment, never looking to the future or dwelling on the past.

By the time he finished his second beer the dark of night had settled in. He grabbed his cooler and folding chair and carried them into his room.

All of the living quarters for the cowboys who worked the Holiday ranch were the same. A twin bed was on one side of the room and a chest of drawers was on the other. There was also a small closet and a bathroom with a shower.

Most of the men who lived here had added personal touches to make the rooms their own over the years. But other than the brown cowboy hat and gun and holster on top of the dresser, and the clothes in the closet, Tony’s room was exactly the same as it had been when he’d been a fifteen-year-old runaway and Cass Holiday had taken a chance on him.

If she hadn’t hired him on here, there was no question in his mind that he would have more than likely died on the streets of Oklahoma City. He probably would have been beaten to death—not for who he was or any action he’d taken, but rather for what he was.

He pulled out the strip of rawhide that he used to tie back his black hair during the day and then stripped down to his boxers and got into bed.

The only time any ghosts from the past ever threatened him was in the quiet minutes just before he fell asleep, in the darkened privacy of his room.

Half-breed. Your mother didn’t want you and your father was a drunk who was gone long before you were born. You don’t belong anywhere. You have no place in this world. You’re just lucky we took you in.

He consciously shoved the hurtful words away. He wasn’t a little boy anymore, wondering why his foster parents treated him so differently from their own children.

He fell asleep with the ghosts from his youth silenced. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been asleep when rapid knocking sounded at his door.

A glance at the clock let him know it was almost one. He muttered a small curse and got out of bed, fully expecting one of his fellow cowboys who wanted to share the drunken escapades of the evening with him.

He pulled open the door and stared in stunned surprise at the blond-haired, blue-eyed woman who stood before him. “Amy...what are you doing here?”

It had been a little over a year ago since Tony had last seen Amy Kincaid. He’d been just a bit crazy over her, until he realized she was more than just a little bit crazy herself. She was achingly thin and sported a yellowing bruise on the side of her face.

“Tony, I’m in trouble.” She cast a glance over her skinny shoulder and then looked at him again, her eyes huge and simmering with what appeared to be barely suppressed terror.

She’d pulled her car up just outside the bunkhouse, had driven across the lawn from where the driveway ended in the distance. The engine was still running.

“Amy, what’s going on? Come inside and talk to me,” he replied.

She shook her head. “I’ve got to go, but I need you to step up.”

Tony frowned. “Step up?”

She turned and ran to her car and opened the back door. She pulled out a medium-sized suitcase and then a car seat with a sleeping baby inside.

When she returned to his door, Tony stared at her in bewilderment. “Would you tell me what’s going on?”

“This is your son. His name is Joey.” Tears welled up in her eyes. “I can’t take care of him right now.” Once again she shot a frantic look over her shoulder. “I’ve got to go. Tony.” She grabbed his forearm, her fingers feverish and her sharp nails biting into his skin. “Please...protect him from evil.” She turned and ran for her car.

“Amy, wait!” Tony shouted after her, but she didn’t stop, didn’t even hesitate. She jumped into the driver seat and then tore off toward the ranch exit.

Two other doors flew open. Clay came out of one and Sawyer stumbled out of the other one. “Whaz goin’ on?” Sawyer mumbled with a slight slur. “Hey, what’s that doing here?” he asked as he stared down at the sleeping little boy.

“It’s not a ‘that,’ it’s a boy,” Tony replied absently. He was still trying to process what had just happened. This is your son. Protect him from evil. “Amy just dropped him off. She said he’s my son and it was time for me to step up.”

“Congrats, man,” Sawyer said. “I’ll get you a cigar with a bright blue band around it tomorrow.” He turned and went back into his room.

“Amy? Wow, did you know she was pregnant when the two of you stopped seeing each other?” Clay asked.

“No, I didn’t have a clue. I haven’t seen or heard from her in a year. She moved to Oklahoma City while we were dating...” Tony broke off and continued to stare down at the little boy with his shock of black hair and chubby cheeks.

“Are you sure he’s really yours?” Clay asked.

Tony gazed at his blond-haired fellow cowboy. “At this moment I’m not sure of anything.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Right now I guess I’m going to get him out of the chilly night air and then I’ll see what tomorrow brings.” Tony bent down and picked up the car seat while Clay grabbed the suitcase and together they went into Tony’s room.

Tony set the baby seat on the bed and Clay placed the suitcase on the floor. “Are you going to be all right with this for now?” Clay asked.

“I suppose I have to be,” Tony replied, his heart beating an unsteady rhythm. Heck, he had no idea if he was going to be all right. He didn’t know anything about babies.

“Let me know if you need anything.” Clay left the room and closed the door behind him.

Tony remained standing next to his bed and stared at the sleeping child. Tony had never wanted to be a husband and he’d certainly never wanted to be a father and Amy had known that when they’d dated. He’d made that very clear to her.

She’d looked so terrified. What was going on in her life that had prompted her to drop off her child with a man she hadn’t seen in over a year? Was he really Tony’s son? And why had she said to protect him from evil?

At that moment the little boy’s eyes fluttered open. His features screwed up and he began to cry.

* * *

He had to find the bitch.

Ash Moreland tightened his grip on his steering wheel as he turned down another Oklahoma City street, seeking Amy’s car. He had to find her and make sure she didn’t talk, that she didn’t tell anyone what she had seen.

If she’d just stayed in the bedroom like he’d told her to, then she wouldn’t have seen him slit Barker’s throat. After that, she’d gone to the bedroom and throughout the rest of the evening she’d acted like everything was okay. But Ash had known she was shaken up and sure enough at just after midnight she’d crept out of bed.

He’d stayed in bed and listened to her as she’d gone into the baby’s room, and minutes later he’d heard the closing of the front door. He could have stopped her at any moment, but he was curious. In all honesty he’d been amused by her pathetic move to leave him.

He’d followed her the almost sixty miles to Bitterroot and had watched her hand his baby over to another man. That, in and of itself, was an unforgivable betrayal.

She’d left Bitterroot and then driven back to Oklahoma City. He’d been tracking her for the past couple of hours, wondering what she was going to do, where she might go. If she’d gone anywhere near a police station, she would have never made it inside alive.

She had no friends and she had no money. Ash had seen to that during the last year that the two of them had been together. She belonged to him, just like the lucrative drug business he ran and just like the house where they lived, which was filled with fine and expensive items. Amy was his possession and Ash would decide when it was time to get rid of a possession.

He’d had her car taillights in his sights until about fifteen minutes ago, when she’d managed to give him the slip. He drove the dark streets slowly, his initial amusement long gone and rage rising with each moment that passed.

If he didn’t find her tonight, then he’d assign half a dozen of his men to hunt her down. Sooner or later she was going to run out of gas and out of options.

Sooner or later she’d probably come crawling back to him, begging him to forgive her for running away, sniveling to him for a fix that would make her well.

He’d hunt her down tonight and then tomorrow he’d go get his baby, the son who was his flesh, his blood, and who would one day take over Ash’s kingdom.

* * *

It was the longest night Tony had ever known and in his past he’d had many long nights. It wasn’t the company of Joey in his room that kept him from sleep, although certainly the tiny boy made his presence known several times.

The suitcase was filled with bottles and formula, disposable diapers and clothes. Twice in the night Tony had given Joey bottles and changed diapers, thankful that the baby had then seemed perfectly satisfied and had fallen back asleep.

Unfortunately sleep hadn’t come to Tony. He’d lain in bed with Joey between him and the wall and listened to the little boy breathe as thoughts had whirled in his head.

Was the boy really his? He supposed it was possible. He and Amy had certainly enjoyed an intense physical relationship, but she had assured him she was on birth control and he’d taken extra protection.

He didn’t even know how old the baby was, or if Amy had been seeing Tony exclusively at the time they’d been dating each other. When he’d broken things off with her, he’d certainly suspected there was somebody else in her life.

Why hadn’t she told him she was pregnant? If the little boy was his, then why hadn’t she come to him and told him? She knew where he lived. She knew where he worked. Where had she been for the last year and what had she been doing?

And what was Tony going to do until Amy returned? He wasn’t cut out for being a father. He didn’t know anything about babies other than they were hungry little pooping beasts. Hopefully, she intended to show up here before another night fell.

Those were only a few of the questions that kept him staring at the ceiling until dawn broke and Joey awakened. He gave him a bottle, changed his diaper and clothes and then placed him in his car seat to travel to the cowboy dining room, where Tony could grab some breakfast and figure out what in the heck he was going to do with Joey until Amy returned.

At least he’d managed to make it through the night and the baby didn’t seem any worse for it, he thought as he circled around the row of rooms to the large dining and rec room in the back of the building.

Sawyer was the first person who saw him walk in. The lanky cowboy’s brown eyes widened. “Jeez, Tony, I thought I had a beer-induced delusion last night, but it was real. You really have a kid.”

“I have possession of one, but I’m not sure he’s really mine,” Tony replied.

The other men in the dining room gathered around and once again Tony told everyone about Amy’s unexpected middle-of-the-night stork delivery.

“How are you going to work and take care of a baby?” Brody Booth asked.

“And what in the heck do you know about taking care of a baby?” Jerod Steen stared at Joey as if he was a species of animal the dark-haired, dark-eyed man had never seen before.

“What are you going to do if Amy never comes back?” Flint McCay asked.

All of the worries that had kept Tony up all night crashed into him again. What on earth was he going to do? “I don’t have answers to any of those questions. I’ve just got to have some time to figure things out.”

Mac McBride leaned down and grinned at Joey. “Aren’t you the cutest little buckaroo we’ve ever had in this dining room?” he said in the musical voice that, along with his guitar, often entertained the men in the evenings.

Little Joey, who had remained silent and somber until that moment, suddenly laughed. The infectious giggling filled up the entire room and all of the men stared at him in awe.

Tony steeled his heart. There was no way he was going to get attached to Joey. He refused to be moved by Joey’s smiles and antics. All he had to do was figure out exactly what he was going to do with the baby until Amy returned.

* * *

“Big changes coming,” Halena announced.

Mary Redwing turned around from the scrambled eggs she’d been preparing to eye her grandmother curiously. “And you know this how?”

“I dream-walked last night in my sleep.” Bright morning sunshine poured in through the windows to sparkle on Halena Redwing’s long, thick silver braids. She was clad in a pair of red-and-black polka-dotted sleep pants and a ruffled bright pink blouse.

“And where did you go?” Mary’s heart filled with love as she gazed at the woman who had raised her, a woman who at eighty-six years old now shared Mary’s home. Halena had always been eccentric but had grown even more so with each year that passed.

“I went to Kansas.”

“Oh.” Mary blinked in surprise. Normally Halena dream-walked to strange and foreign places she didn’t recognize. “Hang on and you can tell me more.”

She turned back to the eggs and scooped a portion out on each plate that waited with bacon and toast already on them. She carried the plates across the room and joined her grandmother at the table.

“Okay, now, what did you find in Kansas?” Mary asked.

“A tornado and a tin man.”

Mary thought back over the past week and tried to remember what movies her grandmother might have watched. A month ago she’d gotten up early one morning and had announced that robots would soon be taking over the world. That had occurred after the previous night’s Terminator marathon.

“So you dream-walked in a terrible storm and met a heartless man,” Mary replied.

Halena nodded. “The tornado is a portent of great change coming and we have to beware of the tin man who comes. Now, let’s eat.”

Mary picked up a piece of bacon and chewed thoughtfully. She didn’t have to beware of any man. Her future had no place for a man and at thirty-two years old she’d come to terms with the fact that she would live her life alone, without a husband...without a family.

She was fulfilled by her work, by the friendships she shared and with the often amusing and always wise company of her grandmother. That was enough for her. It had to be enough.

“What’s on your agenda for today?” Mary asked after they’d eaten and as they cleaned up the breakfast dishes.

“I’m going to try to finish up that turquoise skirt so I can get started on another one. I’d like to sew at least ten more before the craft show,” Halena replied.

Despite her advancing age, Halena still made beautiful skirts with beaded detail that was stunning, along with the more traditional Choctaw dresses. They always sold well at the annual Oklahoma Days Craft Fair.

“Ten skirts in two weeks, that’s a pretty tall order,” Mary replied.

“The more skirts, the more new movies I can buy,” Halena replied.

A year ago, when Halena had been recovering from a mild heart attack, a friend had given her a DVD player and a handful of movies. Since that time she was movie-obsessed.

“And I’m going to work on some baskets out on the back porch. It’s going to be such a beautiful day,” Mary replied.

Halena nodded. “It’s always good to have a plan. And now I think it’s time to get to work. I need to get these skirts done as quickly as possible.”

As Halena headed to her bedroom, Mary smiled in amusement. Her grandmother was an amusing blend of old tradition and new-world savvy. She was often a guest speaker at the Durant Indian Nation grade school, where she spoke about the history and culture of their people, and she also had a blog with tons of followers, where she talked about everything from how to properly fold a bath towel to sex and love tips.

The screened-in back porch was Mary’s work space as long as the weather allowed. When it got colder or was too rainy, she moved inside to the spare bedroom, but today was positively gorgeous.

She stepped outside to the musical sound of wind chimes dancing in the light breeze. The scent of autumn was in the air and the river cane she used to make the baskets she sold tickled her nose.

She’d built a successful business for herself, selling baskets and pottery and other items not only at craft fairs, but also through her internet site.

As she sat at the long worktable, it didn’t take her long to lose herself in the artistry of weaving. She worked here most mornings and then after lunch her grandmother often joined her. The two would work and chat until dinnertime and then move back inside for the evening. After supper, Halena worked on her blog or watched movies, while Mary checked in with the two people who helped her with her web-based business.

“It’s going to be a long winter,” Halena said as she settled into the cushy porch chair after lunch. The skirt she was hand-sewing was a beautiful spill of turquoise in her lap.

“And how do you know that?” Mary asked.

“The leaves in the trees have whispered to me that the snow will come early and stay late,” she said.

“Last year didn’t the leaves in the trees whisper to you that we’d have an unusually wet summer?” Mary asked in amusement. It had been the driest summer on record.

Halena smiled with a glint in her eyes. “Okay, I’ll admit that sometimes the leaves lie to me.”

Mary laughed, but her laughter was cut short by a loud knock on the front door. “I wonder who that could be,” she said. She got up from the table and hurried through the house to answer.

She opened the door and stared at the man on her porch in stunned surprise. “Tony,” she said in shock. The last time she’d seen the handsome cowboy had been a little over a year ago, when he and her friend Amy had come to visit several times.

He held on to a baby car seat with a bright-eyed, chubby-cheeked infant tucked beneath a blue blanket. Tony was not only clad in jeans, a white T-shirt and a brown cowboy hat, but he also wore an air of utter desperation.

“Mary, can I come in?” he asked.

“Of course.” She stepped aside and as he swept past her to enter the living room, he smelled of not only sunshine and fresh air, but also a woodsy cologne that was instantly appealing.

She hated the way her heart beat just a little faster at the mere sight of him. The very first time she’d met him her heart had reacted the same way, and it had shamed her, since he was her friend’s boyfriend.

She closed the door behind him and motioned him to sit on the sofa. What was he doing here? And why did he have a baby, who cooed softly as he set the carrier on the floor next to him?

“Have you been in touch with Amy lately?” he asked as she sat in the chair opposite the sofa. He took off his hat and placed it next to him.

“No. The last time I spoke to her was about six months ago. Why?”

“She came by the ranch last night and said she was in trouble.” He glanced down at the baby and his jaw tightened. “She told me the baby is mine and his name is Joey, then she jumped into her car and drove off. I need to find her.”

Oh, Amy, what kind of trouble have you found this time? “I’m sorry, Tony, I don’t know what to tell you. The last time I talked to her she was living in Oklahoma City with a man she met not long after the two of you went your separate ways. I tried to call her a while ago, but the phone number I had for her was no good.”

Tony’s eyes bored into hers with intensity. A woman could fall into those dark depths. “Do you remember the name of the man?”

Mary frowned thoughtfully and tried to remember the last conversation she’d had with her friend. “No, I don’t think she mentioned his name to me.”

Her gaze drifted down to the baby. He smiled and cooed to her and a wave of unexpected anguish swept through her, an anguish she’d believed she’d made peace with a long time ago.

“Did you know she was pregnant?” Tony asked.

Mary nodded. “She told me she was pregnant with your child when she first took a test.”

Tony’s strong features expressed bewilderment. “Why didn’t she tell me? Why didn’t she come to me?”

“I don’t know, Tony. I certainly encouraged her to do so at the time.” But there was no telling Amy anything when she didn’t want to listen. “Besides, she made me promise I wouldn’t tell you.”

He leaned back against the beige sofa, his disturbed energy filling the air. “Do you know for sure that he’s mine?”

Mary’s heart squeezed tight as she thought about her troubled friend. “I can only go by what she told me at the time, but I know when she did tell me she was already living with the other man.” She knew that Tony probably understood as well as she did that Amy wasn’t always a reliable source of truthfulness.