The Bull Rider's Twins (5 page)

It was one of those days, Judah thought, as he picked himself off the ground. Some days you were the hero, and some days you were the dust between the hero's toes.

Today he might have been the dust under a very ordinary man's feet. Crazy Eight had thrown him within three seconds. It hadn't even been a decent ride. Crazy Eight hadn't been anything spectacular. But just as he'd left the chute, Judah had seen Sidney Tunstall out of the corner of his eye, and somehow his concentration had gone to hell.

He'd gotten thrown so easily a child could have ridden better. Judah slowly wandered over to the rail, slapping his hat against his leg. And somehow, he didn't seem to care. He wondered if Darla had opened the box with his offering in it. A man had to be prepared to fight like a soldier, and Dr. Tunstall was nice enough, but Judah understood women. And what he understood best about women was that a big sparkly diamond sometimes won the fair maiden.

Dr. Tunstall hadn't ponied up yet, so Judah had no compulsion about trying to get the jump on the competition. He'd called Harry Winston's and given a description of exactly what he wanted, then flown to pick it up. And it was a sparkler, like a star plucked from the sky.

No woman could resist it.

“And you know,” he said to Sidney when the doc came over to check him out, “I went for the biggest star I could find.”

Sidney looked at him. “How do you feel, Judah?”

“Like a winner,” he said. “How do you feel, Doc?”

Sidney grunted. “Let's get you where I can take a look at you.” He slipped an arm under Judah's, and helped him to a seat.

Then he passed one finger in front of Judah's face. “How many?”

“How many what?” Judah asked.

“Fingers?”

Judah sighed. “I see five fingers, which are going to be a knuckle sandwich, Doc, if you don't get your bony hand out of my face.”

Sam came over to stare into his eyes. “Hey, bro. Hearing little birdies or anything? Faraway music? Fairy whisperings?”

Judah drew in another deep breath. “I don't have a concussion. I wasn't paying attention and I got thrown. That's all.”

Rafe bent to stare into his face. “That was a doozy of a toss you took. Hit your head or anything?”

It was impossible to convince anybody that his problem wasn't in his head. His problem was in his heart. “If everyone will get out of here, I'm going to get ready for my next ride.”

“Assuming I approve you to ride,” Sidney said, and Judah glared at him.

“If you don't pass me to ride, I'll kick your ass.”

Sidney nodded. “Unprovoked aggression. Loss of concentration. Could be a concussion.”

Judah narrowed his eyes. “Don't pull that doctor mumbo jumbo on me. If you keep me from riding, it'll only be because you're trying to keep me from winning. You don't want me to win because you know ladies love cowboys who do. And I am in a serious position to be loved.”

Dr. Tunstall shook his head. “I should let you ride. It would serve you right if I let you land on your already cracked head. Maybe it would knock some of the hot air out of you and serve to flatten that outsize ego of yours. But as it is,” Dr. Tunstall said, “you're going to have to scratch.”

“I will not scratch,” Judah declared, and Sidney said, “Then I'll scratch you myself. Either way, your rodeoing is over for the next month.”

“Month!” Judah hopped to his feet, heading after the departing doctor. “You can't keep me out for a month. I need to ride to make up the points for the finals. You know that as well as anyone.”

“I do.” Sidney glanced at him before he went back out to the arena to observe the next riders. “Go home and rest, Judah. Don't do any handsprings or jump off any houses, and you should be fine in a few weeks.”

“I don't remember hitting my head,” Judah muttered, glaring after him. “He's trying to keep me out of the rodeo.”

“Well, that's a shame,” Sam said. “Now you'll just have too much time on your hands to hang around Diablo and convince Darla that you'd make a better husband than a cowboy.”

Light dawned. “Yeah,” he said, “that's what I'll do. I'll cede this hallowed ground and grab territory closer to where yonder princess lays her fair head.”

“Oh, jeez,” Sam said. “Let's get you to the E.R., bro. I think you've stripped a gear.”

D
ARLA HAD BEGUN TO OPEN
the box Judah left, but then, not wanting to know what she was passing up, she'd snapped it closed without getting past the first crack in the hinge.

There was no point in torturing herself, since she wasn't marrying him. Ever. He wasn't above tempting her, but she would not succumb. Especially not since she had a wedding in a couple days.

The very thought made her break out in nervous hiccups, something she hadn't done in years. Jackie had gone home, the store was closed for the night and Darla was alone with her thoughts, and a hundred wedding gowns mocking her. She hiccupped twice in rapid succession. The magic wedding gown secreted in the storeroom called to her, dragging her thoughts to it. Temptation—wondering how she would look in the gown of her dreams—tugged at her.

She hiccupped again, painfully and loudly, in the silent store.

She had to know. It would wipe the last questions from her mind, and she could go on with her marriage to Sidney, knowing that a gown was just a gown, after all. It was the groom who made the day special for a bride, a man a woman knew she could trust to be at her side and…

And what? Take care of her? She didn't need that.

But Sidney would expect to take care of her. Judah wouldn't, she mused. He would expect to make love to her most days of the week, and be the guiding light in her life.

Sidney would not expect such hero worship.

Why she was even thinking about both men, comparing them, was a mystery. One of them was about to become her husband. The other wasn't going to be anything more to her than he'd ever been, just a casual acquaintance—with whom she now shared future parenting.

“Argh!” Darla hiccupped wildly. Dashing into the stockroom, she tore the magic wedding dress off its hangar and slipped it on, entranced by the luscious whisper it made sliding over her skin. The dress seemed to enfold her in its beauty, pouring dreams into her heart. The hiccups ceased; her nerves unfurled.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped to the mirrors.

The gown was simply stunning, glinting and sparkling with sequins and crystals, and a luminescence all its own
emanating from the fabric. Darla's breath caught as she looked at herself, turning slowly to see all views in the mirrors. It was everything Sabrina had claimed. The same spell that had captured Jackie was now shimmering around her, gentle motes of magic that made her feel like a real bride.

Slowly, Darla gave in and opened the jeweler's box, gasping at the lovely diamond ring. Never had she seen a ring so utterly perfect. Unable to resist, she slipped it on her finger. It fitted perfectly, as if made to order.

Her gaze bounced to the mirrors and caught. She stared, astonished to see herself transformed into a fairy-tale bride.

And behind her, smiling a sexy
you're-all-mine
smile, was her handsome prince.

D
ARLA WHIRLED AROUND
. He wasn't here. Her prince was a figment of her imagination—fantasy, wishful thinking, whatever. She hurried to take off the ring, shut it back in its box. She'd had no business trying it on.

And then she felt it, like a butterfly wing brushing against her neck: his lips, pressing against her fevered skin. Darla glanced into the mirror with longing as she watched Judah's ebony head dip to the cradle of her shoulder.

Before she could totally lose herself in the fantasy, she tore the magic wedding dress off and rapidly dressed, fingers shaking as she put on her own clothes. It was unsettling how much time Judah spent in her thoughts. He practically
lived
there, teasing her subconscious.

“It can't go on like this, buddy,” she muttered, slipping on her shoes. “Once I'm married to Sidney, you are banished to the bin of ex-boyfriends.”

Ex-lover, to be exact, but she'd fudge a little, one day in the future, when her children asked her about their real father. She'd say Judah Callahan had been a boyfriend, someone she'd cared about, but that they just hadn't loved each other…?.

Except she did love Judah. Darla swallowed against a tight throat and quickly turned off the store lights, locked the door, ran to her vehicle. Of course she loved him. She'd had a crush on him forever. Once they'd made love, she was lost to him.

And,
she thought fiercely,
I'm glad I'm having his babies. It's a piece of him I never dreamed I'd have.

“K
EEPING IN MIND THAT
you've always been a bit irascible,” Fiona said, “Judah, this is irritable, even for you.”

He sighed, taking the piece of triple chocolate fudge cake she'd brought him. He was going to get fat if Fiona didn't stop ministering to him. Once he'd scratched from the rodeo—very much against his will—and come home, his aunt had appointed herself his watchful angel. He was in bed reading at eight o'clock at night only because he didn't want to hang out with his brothers, who were playing, of all stupid things, badminton under the lights with their wives.

Judah munched dutifully on the delicious cake. “Aunt, you're going to make me fat. I'm not supposed to ride, I can't even play hopscotch with the kids for exercise. Every time I open my eyes, you're stuffing my face with some delicacy.” He waved his fork. “You don't have to feed me. I'm capable of making a run to the kitchen myself.”

“I'm sure you are.” Fiona seated herself on the foot of his bed with a little bounce. “Are you certain you're comfy? Pillow soft enough for your aching head?”

Sighing, he put the cake on his nightstand and sat up, already wishing he had a handful of aspirin. Or an aunt-chaser, like a double whiskey. “What's this all about?”

“Judah,” she said, her gaze pinned on his, “I know you found the cave. And I need for you to keep its existence under your hat.”

He blinked. “How'd you know I found it?”

“I found your big boot prints there. And Burke had seen
you riding that way. Promise me that you won't breathe a word about it. To anyone. Not even…not even Darla.”

Judah studied the determined gleam in his aunt's eyes. She was really worked up about this, hence the angelic caregiving she'd been heaping on him. He should have remembered she liked to bake when she was worried about something. “I haven't mentioned it to anybody. I've been preoccupied, and I also needed time to think about why it might be there. But I'd like to know why you're keeping it a secret. Is it because of Bode?”

“Partially,” Fiona said, “and partly because we use it often.”

“So is that the silver mine everybody's asked about over the years?” Judah reflected on that for a moment. “At one time or another, I guess just about the whole town has gossiped about it. Do we own a silver mine?”

“Not exactly,” Fiona said carefully. “You might consider that cave a gift from a friend.”

“What friend?”

She glanced at her hands. “I need to know that I have your absolute confidence.”

He took another bite of cake, transfixed by his aunt's caginess. It was almost like when she'd told them childhood bedtime stories. She was spinning a great one right now—he could practically hear her thoughts churning. “I wouldn't breathe a word of this to my closest brother.”

She sniffed. “Since you have five of those, I guess that's plural.”

“Absolutely.” He waved his fork again imperiously. “Speak on, aunt of many tales.”

She gave him a sharp look. “This is not a fairy tale. More than you can realize hangs on the complete secrecy of that cave.”

“I know, I know. But you shouldn't be crawling around in that place,” Judah said. “It makes me nervous to think about
you being there. What if you stumbled onto a snake? What if a coyote was in there? We never knew you had a secret hangout.”

“Nothing will happen to me. Burke usually goes with me.”

“Oh, so Burke is in on this as well,” Judah said, growing more fascinated by the moment. “Do the two of you make midnight runs out there to dig up silver?”

She sighed. “I'm going to pop that concussed head of yours if you don't pay attention.”

“Go. I'm all ears.” He set down the plate and swigged the milk she'd set on his nightstand. The copy of
Death Comes to the Archbishop
he'd been reading fell to the floor, but he didn't notice.

“I have a friend who comes once a year to visit,” Fiona began, and Judah said, “The Chief.”

She nodded. “The silver is his. The cave is his home, of sorts.”

“Is there a tribe around here?”

She nodded again. “But he sometimes stays in the cave. Alone. We won't ever tell anyone that.”

“Is he a fugitive? Illegal?” Judah arranged a stern look on his face. “Aunt, we shouldn't be harboring someone who has some kind of record—”

She shook her head. “The cave is his. Your parents bought Rancho Diablo land from him—from the tribe, actually. The cave and the mine stay in his hands, all of those mineral rights being signed over to him.”

“Why?”

“It was a fair exchange,” Fiona said simply. “Your father negotiated for the land with the stipulation that the mine remained in the tribe's possession. It will be this way for always.” She took a deep breath. “And one more reason why I absolutely must keep this ranch from falling into Bode's clutches.”

“Oh.” Judah had the whole picture now. “So Bode really wants the mine?”

“He wants everything. The mine, which he's only heard rumors about, but which he suspects must be real. The two working oil derricks, the land, the Diablos. He wants it all.”