One Fine Cowboy (23 page)

Nate clutched his pillow and tried to turn over, but his legs were pinned down. He was trapped. Trapped in the dark.

He flailed a hand out and hit the end table, swearing under his breath. Butt snorted and hit the floor with a loud thump.

Now he could move his legs.

Not that it helped much. He couldn’t get comfortable no matter what position he slept in, and flipping from one side to the other like a burger on a fast-food grill wasn’t helping any. All he could think about was that morning he’d woken up on this same sofa with Charlie in his arms, tucked against him.

He sat up and rested his elbows on his knees, staring out the window. He’d heard a car door slam hours before and looked out to see the Celica bouncing away down the driveway.

He wondered if Charlie was gone for good.

No. She’d leave eventually, but not like this. She’d say good-bye to Sam, and to the horses. To Doris and Phaedra and Taylor. She’d probably gone to Purvis to indulge her wild city-girl side in one of the bars that lined the main street. He hoped she hadn’t gone to Hogs ‘n’ Heifers. She’d likely rile up some biker and get in a fight.

She’d probably win, though. She was sure kicking his ass six ways to Sunday. He felt like he’d been run over by a truck, followed by a locomotive leading a herd of stampeding buffalo that finished off the job. Charlie’s quick switch from fiery passion to white-hot anger left him feeling like he had emotional whiplash.

But whatever she dished out, he deserved it. He’d dragged her into his complicated life, enmeshing her in Sandi’s net. He should have left her alone. What was he thinking, fooling around with a woman he barely knew when his daughter’s future was at stake?

The dog snorted again, and Nate had to agree. That hadn’t been fooling around at all, and Charlie was no stranger. That had been making love to a woman he wanted more than Butt wanted biscuits.

Hopefully Charlie would have the sense to stay in town if she drank too much. He closed his eyes, and immediately a picture of her slipping into bed in some anonymous hotel room flashed across his mind. She’d shuck off her jeans and crawl into bed in her T-shirt and panties, and look sexier than a Victoria’s Secret model in skimpy lingerie, just because she wasn’t trying.

Panties. A T-shirt and
panties
.

Nate squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his temples with one hand, trying to wring out the images of Charlie in that tuxedo thong. In the Wonder Woman panties. He decided he’d better imagine she was wearing something sensible tonight. White cotton granny panties, maybe, a size or two too big.

Saggy-ass panties.

Damn. That got him thinking about Charlie’s ass. Now he’d never get to sleep.

He swung his feet to the floor and levered himself out of bed. Sleep was impossible. He ached all over—his legs, his back, but mostly his heart.

He stepped into a pair of jeans and slipped a T-shirt over his head. He’d go check on the horses. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d sought their company in the middle of the night, and it wouldn’t be the last. With all that was happening, he’d need the peace of the barn more than ever—the soothing warm darkness, the quiet hush of the animals breathing slow and easy, their sweet, musty scent.

He shuffled quietly across the bedroom, through the kitchen, and eased the front door open. On his way to the barn, a sound caught his attention—a low growling, like a car without a muffler. He shaded his eyes with one hand, squinting. A truck was bouncing along the road to Latigo.

Doris. But what was that in front of her? A car?

Yep. A red car. And that seemed to be where all the racket was coming from.

Charlie was back.

He jogged to the barn. It wouldn’t do to be caught standing in the middle of the yard with his mouth half-open and his heart in his hand, waiting for her. And what would he say, anyway?

He ducked into the barn. Maybe she’d come in here too to see the horses. Stopping at Honey’s stall, he leaned on the gate. The horse was standing quietly, watching him through half-shuttered eyes. Outside, Charlie’s car door slammed and he heard her boots hitting the dirt driveway as she headed for the bunkhouse.

The bunkhouse, not the barn.

Dang.

He proceeded down the alleyway, trying not to wake the horses, but they blew and shifted from left to right, catching the quick rhythm of his nervous breathing, the slight shaking of his hands. He struggled to control himself, but that only made it worse. Behind him, Junior let out a faint whinny and kicked the side of his stall.

There was a window at the end of the aisle and he couldn’t resist glancing outside. Charlie was sitting on the bunkhouse steps staring up at the sky like she was lost in thought. He wondered what she was thinking about.

Maybe she was thinking about him. Maybe she was trying to figure a way through this problem too. Maybe she was searching her mind for a way to hang onto what they had.

Yeah, right. More likely she was thinking up fifty ways to kill a cowboy.

***

The bell for round one of the Charlie vs. Sandi Championship Fight would ring any moment, but with the deafening racket the car made, Charlie hadn’t had a chance to work out a solid plan of attack. All she’d done was work herself into a state of nerves.

In fact, now that she was here, she wasn’t sure fighting was such a great idea after all. She should have kept driving. Turned the Celica east, gunned the accelerator, and gotten the hell out of Dodge, or Purvis, or whatever you wanted to call it.

But here she was, back at the OK Corral. She’d dreamed up a dozen ways of confronting Sandi on the drive, but now that she’d arrived she realized it was Nate she needed to talk to—because it was Nate who needed to confront Sandi. After all, he was the one who had the most to lose.

Charlie stepped back inside the bunkhouse and tiptoed over to Doris’s bed. The woman was already asleep, releasing an escalating series of snores that sounded like the entire New York Philharmonic’s wind section tuning up.

“Doris.” Charlie shook the woman’s shoulder.

“Huh?” Doris shot upright with a snort. “What?”

“I need your help.”

Doris rubbed her eyes and ran one hand through her hair, swinging her legs out of bed. She waggled her feet, fishing around for her slippers. “Okay,” she said.

“I’m going to try to talk Nate into confronting Sandi. I’ll show him the check, tell him she said they were back together, but I need you to back me up about what Sam said. You know, about those overnight classes at the beauty school. Once he sees how much she’s lying, maybe he’ll call her bluff about Sam.”

“Sure,” Doris said. She slid her feet into a pair of beaded moccasins and stood up. Her T-shirt was rumpled and her hair was flat on one side, but vanity apparently wasn’t an issue for ranch women.

Charlie wondered if she’d get like that if she stayed in the West. Would her skin brown and wrinkle in the sun? Would she stop wearing makeup and let her hair grow out?

She’d never know. She wasn’t staying.

A horse neighed from the barn.

“Come on,” Charlie said. “Let’s go.” She squared her shoulders and headed across the lawn, Doris trotting along behind her.

Ding.
Round one.

“Let me do the talking,” she said to Doris. “Just back me up if he doesn’t believe me.”

Nate looked up as they entered the barn. He was bent over Peach’s leg, unwrapping the bandage, moving his hand up and down the pony’s leg, checking for swelling.

“Hi.” Charlie shifted her weight from one leg to another. She’d nursed her anger all night, but now that Nate was right there in front of her, she knew she needed to calm down. She needed to find a smooth way to show him what was written on the check. A tactful way to tell him what Sam had said about the weekend beauty school.

No problem, right? She was a psych major. A student of interpersonal communication. She should be able to find precisely the right words to use, the right approach to take.

“Um,” she said.

Nate looked up expectantly.

“We need to talk to you,” she said. “Can we, um, sit down somewhere?”

“Okay.” He rewrapped the bandage, taking his time, making sure no wrinkles would irritate the horse’s skin, then led her down the aisle to the feed area, where two battered folding chairs leaned against the wall. He unfolded them and settled into one, then rested his elbows on his knees, folding his hands in front of him.

She sat down beside him, folding her hands so she wouldn’t be tempted to reach over and touch him. Doris stood behind her, her hands on the back of the chair.

Nate cleared his throat and looked off to the side as if he was studying the lettering on the old broken chest freezer where he used to store the grain.

“Okay,” he said. “Go ahead.”

***

Nate couldn’t look at Charlie, or Doris either. He’d screwed up everything. Everything. He knew they were trying to help, but he was starting to think he was hopeless. His life was a lost cause, now that Sandi had her claws in the ranch, and in Sam—the two things he cared about most.

And then there was Charlie. He watched as she took a deep breath, like she was about to plunge into the deep end of a bottomless swimming pool. “Sandi’s lying,” she said. “She’s lying about all kinds of stuff. Like… she said you were back together.”

“No,” Nate said. He looked up at Charlie, his eyes wide. “Dang, Charlie, no. Never. She’s lying.”

“She’s lying about Sam too. I’m sure of it.”

He shook his head.

“You and Cody were close,” she said. “Like brothers. Would he really do that to you? Do you really believe that?”

Nate stared down at the barn floor, shaking his head. “No,” he said. “The idea he’d sneak around with Sandi behind my back hurt almost as much as losing Sam. I trusted him.”

“He didn’t do it, and you know it, deep down,” Doris said. “Call Sandi’s bluff. The girl’s lying. And you’ve got too much at stake to let it pass.”

Nate nodded. They were right. He should confront Sandi. But what if he was wrong? What if she took the test, and he wasn’t Sam’s father?

What if Sandi took her away?

“That woman’s an unfit mother,” Doris said. “And even if you’re not Sam’s dad, you’re family. You’ve taken care of her all her life. If Sandi’s declared unfit, the court would give Sam to you, whether she’s your daughter or not.”

He sighed. “Sandi’s selfish, I know. She’s probably not the best mother in the world. But she’s not unfit. She doesn’t beat Sam or anything.”

“No. She just neglects her. That woman’s not going to beauty school.”

“Yes she is,” Nate protested. “She’s—”

“She’s lying,” Charlie said. “And she’s lying about other stuff too. She told me you wrote this.”

She dug a slip of paper out of her pocket and handed it to him. It was the check he’d written to reimburse Charlie’s deposit. He’d been surprised when Sandi said he should make it for a hundred dollars extra. Usually she was so tight with the money, but she’d had a flash of generosity. A hundred dollars wasn’t much, but he figured it would show Charlie he was trying.

“Read the bottom line,” Charlie said.

He looked down at the memo line and felt like he’d been clonked on the head all over again. “
Services rendered
?” He shook his head. “I didn’t write that, Charlie. I swear I didn’t.”

“I know,” Charlie said.

“But that doesn’t mean she’s lying about school. She always wanted to go. She always said—”

Charlie interrupted, her tone harsh, “We were asking Sam if she wanted to go to beauty school like her mother,” she began. “She said no. She wants to go to a regular school. One where you don’t have to spend the night.”

“What?”

Doris jumped in again, telling Nate about the weekend overnights, the teenaged babysitter.

“She’s not going to school, Nate. She’s kickin’ up her heels like those
Sex in the City
gals. And she leaves Sam with people she barely knows while she does it.”

Nate thought of Phaedra, remembering the girl’s sullen recounting of her life in California. He’d worried Sam might be on the same road, and now it turned out he’d been right. “She wouldn’t,” he stammered. “Sandi wouldn’t do that.”

“Do you need us to draw you a picture or what?” Doris asked, splaying her hands. “She did it. And there’s more.”

“There is?” Charlie turned and stared at Doris. She looked as surprised as he felt.

“There sure is. I talked to Sam the other day, while we were in the barn. She was telling me about some of her mother’s pajama parties. Her mother used to invite Uncle Joe, but lately Uncle Ted comes instead. And one time there was another guy, but Sam never found out his name.”

Nate blanched.

“She didn’t find out his name because she doesn’t get to go to the parties,” Doris continued. “They’re for grown-ups. So Sam has to stay in her room so she doesn’t get in the way.” She set her hands on her hips. “Now, come on. Even if you weren’t the kid’s father, do you think that woman would take off and leave a full-time babysitter behind? She’ll never take full responsibility for that child. She’s got too good a deal going right here.”

“Talk to Sandi, Nate,” Charlie said. “You owe it to Sam.”

Nate pictured Sam shut in her room, playing with her Barbies and trying not to listen while Sandi messed around with some stranger, then glanced over at Charlie. He’d expected to see triumph and smug gloating, but she looked pained, as if she was sharing his dismay. He felt that connection again, stretching between them, stronger than ever.

He stood up. Tugging her toward him, he planted a firm kiss on her lips and looked her in the eye. “I owe it to you too. Thank you. I have to go.” He balled his fists and thinned his lips into a hard line. “I’ll take care of Sandi. Don’t worry.”

“Kick her ass, cowboy,” Doris said.

“I will.” Turning, Nate grabbed Doris and wrapped her in a bear hug. “Thank you too,” he said, squeezing her hard and tight against his chest. “You’re the best.”

“Well.” Doris grinned at Charlie, patting her hair and straightening her glasses as Nate left the room. “I can see why you like him.”