The Loner (12 page)

She squared her shoulders and said, “Billy and I are married, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Goddammit to hell! Have you got maggots in your brain, girl?” her father yelled.

For an instant, Summer thought he might hit her, even though he’d never raised a hand to her in her life. A second later, Billy was standing beside her, his arm around her waist, and the two of them were facing her father together.

She could feel the tension radiating off Billy. His hand was squeezing her waist so tightly it hurt. “Summer and I don’t need your permission—or your approval—to marry,” he said. “Now get out of our way.”

“Billy, I need my bags,” Summer reminded him.

He made an irritated sound in his throat but let go of her and turned to pick up her bags. And found himself confronting her mother.

He touched the brim of his hat and said, “Ma’am.”

“You’re a fool, Billy Coburn,” she said. “Like your mother before you.”

Summer saw the flush stain Billy’s cheeks. She grabbed his arm and tried to pull him toward the door, only to find her father had taken a step closer, blocking their exit.

“Come on, Billy,” she begged. “Forget my things. I don’t need them.”

Billy leaned over and picked up her bags. “We’ll be leaving now, ma’am,” he said to her mother. He turned and found Blackjack blocking the way. “Step aside,” he said.

“Summer’s not going anywhere,” her father said.

Her mother clapped. “Bravo. Wonderful performance, Jackson. May I ask to what I owe the pleasure of your return so soon, and in such a timely fashion? Did the widow throw you out?”

“This is still my house, Eve. I’ll come and go as I please.”

“Over my dead body.”

“Like I’ve said before, that can be arranged,” her father taunted.

Summer blanched. She and Billy stood between her parents, who stabbed at each other with barbed words.

“Momma, Daddy, please. Not now.”

“Why not now?” her mother said. “Your husband might as well know what kind of family he’s married into.”

“Go upstairs, Summer,” her father said. “Where you belong. You can leave, Coburn.”

“I’m leaving, all right,” Billy said in a steely voice. “And my wife is coming with me.”

He took a step forward, his shoulder shoving hard against Blackjack’s shoulder and knocking him aside. Summer held her breath, expecting her father to attack Billy as they took the last few steps to the screen door.

“Are you going to let him get away with that, Jackson?” her mother gibed.

Summer realized her father was distracted from confronting Billy by the necessity of making some sort of retort to her mother, like two wolves that attack one another, determined not to share the kill. She heard them snarling at each other as she and Billy shoved their way out the door.

Billy threw her bags into the back of the pickup and said, “Are you all right?”

“Fine,” she said, hiding her shaking hands behind her back.

“Then let’s get out of here.”

She let herself into the passenger side of the cab and buckled her seat belt, which was a good thing, because Billy peeled rubber as he backed out and wheeled the pickup toward the front of the house. He was going dangerously fast as they passed the line of stately magnolias that shaded the asphalt driveway. He accelerated to a pace that became dangerous when ten miles later they left the asphalt and hit the dirt roads that led toward Billy’s ranch.

“Slow down,” Summer said, both hands pressed against the dash in an effort to brace herself as the truck sailed high after hitting another pothole.

“Have the two of them always been like that?” Billy asked.

“Like what?”

Billy glanced at her but hit another pothole and had to put his eyes back on the road to keep the pickup from careening out of control. “Have they always been so spiteful toward one another?”

Summer felt defensive and said, “All parents argue.”

“Your father threatened to kill your mother.”

“They always talk like that,” Summer said. “It’s hyperbole.”

Billy lifted an eyebrow.

“Exaggeration,” she said, explaining the word.

“I know what hyperbole is.”

Summer glanced sideways at Billy. She’d always known he was smart, but she’d assumed his vocabulary was limited because he’d barely made it through high school. She was going to have to be careful not to insult him that way again. Marriage was becoming a minefield, and she’d better tread more carefully.

“Thank you for standing up to my father,” she said.

“You’re my wife.”

She grimaced. “In a fake marriage.”

“There’s nothing fake about our marriage,” Billy said. “It’s as real as it gets… at least for the next two years.”

Except for the sex
, Summer wanted to say. But she didn’t want to argue. She’d heard enough arguing to last her a lifetime. “I don’t want us ever to argue like my parents,” Summer said. “Promise me we’ll talk things over quietly and reasonably.”

“Fine by me,” Billy said. “And since you want plain speaking, there are a few things we need to get straight before we get back to the C-Bar.”

“I’m listening.” Summer realized Billy had slowed the truck to a reasonable speed so he could hold her gaze.

“First, I’m going to need your help nursing my mother and baby-sitting Will.”

“I’ve never done any nursing,” she said. And then, since he was going to find out anyway, she admitted, “I don’t know much about babies, either.”

“You’ll learn,” Billy said.

Summer bit her lip, then said what she was thinking. “Your mother doesn’t like me.”

“No, she doesn’t,” Billy agreed. “The two of you will have to make peace.”

“I’m willing. What if she’s not?”

“I’ll talk to her,” Billy said.

Summer wasn’t encouraged, but she said, “All right.”

“There isn’t much to learn when it comes to babies,” Billy said. “Just keep them dry and feed them and love them.”

“I guess I can do that,” Summer said.

“Emma can keep up with the cooking and housekeeping, and I’ll manage the chores around the ranch and see what other work I can get. My rent is paid till the end of the month in Amarillo, but I’ll need to get up there one weekend to pack up Will’s clothes and my stuff and move it all back here, if it turns out I’ve lost my job. Meanwhile, it’ll be roundup time soon, and I expect I can get someone to take me on as hired help.”

Summer brightened. “I could do that, too! I’m actually better at ranch work than—”

“I need you at the house,” Billy interrupted. “Taking care of Mom and Will.”

“But—”

Billy laid a hand on her thigh. The touch felt intimate even though a layer of denim separated his flesh from hers. “I need your help at home, Summer. I’m trusting you to take care of my mom and my son. Think you can handle it?”

“Sure, Billy. No problem.”

Sure she could nurse a woman who hated her guts. And take care of a baby when she had no idea how to put on a diaper or what babies ate. And ignore his pregnant sister stalking around, cooking and cleaning and glaring at her, since she had no use for Blackthornes.

Summer inwardly shuddered. She felt like telling
Billy to turn around and take her home. But the memory of her parents at each other’s throats kept her mute.

Maybe, somehow, she could make friends with Billy’s mother. And get along with his sister. And she would be more than willing to pour out all the love she had to give on Billy’s son.

After all, the whole point of marrying Billy was to prove she wasn’t as selfish as her mother. Or as ruthless as her father. She might not have any particular talents, but she was willing to work hard. And she never gave up without a fight.

Surely hard work and determination would be enough to see her through the first few difficult weeks of adjustment. And she wouldn’t be doing it alone. Billy would be there beside her at night. They’d be able to talk things over, work things out.

As they drove up to the back door of the Coburn ranch house, Summer looked at the one-story frame structure with a critical eye. She’d never paid much attention to its rundown condition when she’d visited Billy before precisely because she’d only been visiting.

Now she noticed that the wood showed through in several places where the white paint had weathered away. The porch roof canted down on one side, and she remembered the middle step leading up to the back porch was broken. The screen was curled up on one corner of the kitchen door, letting in flies.

Billy pulled up to the back door, but didn’t shut off the engine. Summer looked at him and smiled tentatively. “Nervous?” she asked.

“I’m not coming in,” Billy replied.

Summer felt her heart begin to pound. “Where are you going?”

“I’ve got to go to the TSCRA headquarters in town to see if there’s any chance I can keep my job. I want you to go on in and get settled.”

“You can’t just drop me off like this,” Summer protested. “Does your mother or your sister even know we’re married?”

“I called my mother on my cell phone while I was waiting for you to pack and told her I’d be bringing you home.”

“What did she say to that?”

Billy’s lips thinned.

“What did she say, Billy?” Summer demanded.

“She isn’t any more happy about our marriage than your parents,” Billy admitted. “But she’ll get used to it.”

“Please come in with me, Billy.”

“You’re not afraid of my mother, are you?” he teased.

“Terrified,” she said.

Billy laughed. It was plain he thought she was joking. “You’re not afraid of anything, Summer.”

“We should greet your mother together for the first time as husband and wife,” she said. “It’s the courteous thing to do.”

“It might be,” Billy conceded. “But I’ve got an appointment with the TSCRA that may mean the difference between me being employed in a job with a future or doing menial labor from now on. I’ve got to go. Do you need me to get your bags out of the truck?” he said.

Summer shook her head in disbelief. Well, the honeymoon was certainly over. “I can get them.” She stepped
out of the truck and reached into the bed of the truck to retrieve her bags, hefting them over the side with some difficulty. She backed away and stood watching as Billy waved at her and spun his wheels backing up, raising a tail of dust that nearly choked her.

When the dust had settled, she gripped her bags more tightly, then turned and headed for the door. She was going to make Billy proud of her. She was going to make friends with his mother and his sister and love his son more than any mother ever could.

She stood at the screen door and leaned forward in an attempt to see inside. Like Dorothy, she’d been picked up by a tornado and whirled around and set down in a strange and terrifying land. She had a tremendous urge to tap her heels together and chant, “There’s no place like home.”

Although, in this case, that wouldn’t really help. For the next two years, this ramshackle ranch house was her home.

“Who’s there?” a voice inside demanded.

“It’s Summer Blackthorne. I mean, it’s Summer—” She stopped, flustered because her last name was no longer Blackthorne, but Coburn didn’t feel right, either.

“Well, girl,” the unfriendly voice said. “Come on in.”

S
UMMER SHOVED OPEN THE SCREEN DOOR WITH
her hip, stepped inside, and set down her bags. She waited for her eyes to adjust to the gloom after the glare of the afternoon sun. The kitchen was stifling, and Summer remembered that Billy’s home didn’t have air-conditioning. She felt hot and sticky and realized the only cure was a cool shower, which she wasn’t likely to get anytime soon.

When she could see clearly, she greeted the woman who sat at the kitchen table. “Hello, Mrs. Coburn. Billy said he told you we’d gotten—”

“I heard,” Dora interrupted.

Summer hadn’t seen Dora Coburn for two years. She wouldn’t have recognized her if she hadn’t known who she was. Billy’s mother must have lost thirty or forty pounds. With the loss of flesh, her face had wrinkled in on itself. Her brown hair had turned completely white and she wore it in an untidy bun at her nape, while her dark eyes looked sunken behind black plastic frames. Knobby elbows protruded from the short sleeves of a faded rose-colored chenille robe that had not only seen better days, but better years.

Summer stood waiting to be invited to sit, or to make herself at home, or to be sent packing. When Dora said nothing, she picked up her bags and said, “I’ll put these in Billy’s room.”

“Don’t go in there right now. The baby’s napping.”

“Oh.” Summer waited for further instructions. When they didn’t come, she set her bags down again. She decided to take the bull by the horns and said, “I suppose that gives us a chance to talk.”

Dora Coburn frowned. “Why did you do it?”

Summer was caught off guard by the blunt question. “For Billy’s sake,” she replied.

Dora shook her head. “Billy doesn’t need a wife. He’s doing fine without one.”

Summer realized Billy must not have told his mother about the custody suit, and if he hadn’t, then she certainly couldn’t. “I married Billy because he asked.”