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Authors: Pamela Toth

BOOK: Buchanan's Pride
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For a few moments, neither of them spoke. Leah listened to the sounds of traffic from the surrounding streets, punctuated by an occasional burst of music through an open car window. From the tree overhead, birds twittered to one another. Water splashed into a nearby fountain, muffling the voices of two girls walking by.
Above all that, Leah could swear she heard her own pulse echoing in her head like a dull drum.
“How have you been?” John finally asked, turning his hat around and around in his hands. “Have you been keeping up with the chores?”
“Yes. I hired someone to help out.”
He turned to look at her. “A man?” he demanded. “Someone trustworthy?”
She refused to take offense. “I've known Phil since school. He just got back from Montana and he needed a job.” She'd expected John to be irritated that she'd replaced him so quickly. Instead he looked relieved. “Have you been okay?” she asked.
He nodded, but he didn't volunteer where he'd been. Perhaps he'd gotten a room in town.
“I'm heading back to Seattle day after tomorrow,” he said, confirming her worst fear. “My business partner has been managing without me for long enough.”
It was Leah's turn to nod. She didn't think she could speak, although she'd suspected all along it would end like this.
He surprised her by setting his hat down on the other side of him and turning so he was looking directly at her profile. “I'd like you to go with me,” he said bluntly.
Joy soared inside her like an eagle taking flight. For a moment she savored the taste of it. Then her practical side took over. She searched his face with no idea what she hoped to see. Undying love?
“Why?” she asked.
He glanced away, still worrying his hat. “I'd like to show you a little of my world,” he replied. “You've never been to the coast and it's pretty there. You could stay as long as you like.”
Even before she spoke, John knew she was going to refuse. And who could blame her? He'd wanted to say so much more, but his courage failed him and he'd babbled some half-baked nonsense about a visit as if she could just drop everything and hop on a plane.
“I'm sorry,” she told him. “I—” She looked away. “I can't get away. There's my job and the ranch. And Mama, of course.”
Who wouldn't know if she was here or not, he wanted to point out but didn't “You just hired a ranch hand,” he said instead. “There's a lot to do in Seattle. We could have some fun.” Again, it wasn't exactly what he wanted to tell her, but he wasn't sure just what he was offering. A future together? Marriage?
He was still reeling from his mother's death, from finding out who his father was and meeting the Buchanans.
Leah's face was shadowed with regret as she glanced at her watch and got to her feet. Was she genuinely sorry, or just being polite? “It's time for me to get back.” She glanced at the library and bit her lip. That tiny hint of vulnerability did something funny to his heart. “Will I see you again before I leave?” she asked.
He studied her upturned face, memorizing her features. “I'm going to be really busy,” he found himself saying, “but I want to thank you for everything you did, taking me in, trusting me.” The words sounded so hollow! “You've been terrific.” His smile felt like drying plaster. His throat threatened to close up and his chest ached.
She gave him one last wide-eyed stare, made a sound that came out almost like a sob and turned her back. “No problem. Have a good trip.” She started to hurry away and something inside him snapped, freeing him from the self-imposed freeze. He caught her arm and pulled her around to face him
“Oh!” she exclaimed, mouth a perfect circle as she tipped back her head. Were there tears in her eyes? He wasn't sure. He shifted his grip, wrapping her in his arms as he dipped his head.
“Not so fast,” he muttered, and then he kissed her. The moment he felt her yield, he poured everything he could into the kiss—his frustration, his fear and his disappointment that she wasn't going with him. Most of all, the love that was still so new and so fragile. He didn't let her go until he felt her start to squirm. Then he lifted his head and stared down at her. Damn, but he was going to miss her.
Her face was flushed, her mouth swollen, and her eyes looked a little glazed.
“Last chance,” he said with a crooked smile. “Come with me?”
Her mouth opened and shut a couple of times, but no sound came out. Then the big clock across the street started to chime the hour.
“Oh dear,” she exclaimed. “I'm really late. I have to go.” She hesitated for a moment. “You could write me if you like.”
Before he could ask if that was what she wanted, she turned and hurried away. More confused than ever, he watched until she had crossed the street, climbed the library steps and disappeared inside.
Blinking, he looked around slowly. This was her life—the town, her land, her mother. And his lay hundreds of miles to the west. He hadn't even left yet and already the gulf between them was way too wide to cross. With a sigh he slapped his hat against his thigh and put it back on his head. Once he got home, surrounded by the familiar trappings of
his
life, he could start putting the pieces back in place and move on. In time, Colorado and everyone in it would be just a pleasant memory.
 
Leah didn't know how she got through the last two hours of work. When she finally parked the truck in her yard and shut off the motor, she allowed her head to drop to the steering wheel and she sat there until she heard Duke's anxious whine through her open window. Phil was around somewhere and the last thing she wanted was to answer any questions, so she got out of the truck, spoke briefly to the dog and went with him to the house.
Phil usually took his meals in his camper, so she ate alone. As she forced herself to chew and swallow, she thought about checking the stock. Instead, to combat the silence filling the house, she turned on the television. Its screen was a blur of color; its sound made no sense.
In a few days or a week or a month, she would regain the relative contentment of her life, she told herself as she prowled restlessly across the living room. Or a year or ten. She stopped to look out the window. The yard was deserted. Nothing moved. There was no sound from the barn or the corral on the other side of it. So far Phil had kept to himself and that suited her fine. She liked her solitude, or at least she had until John came.
Arriving at a sudden decision, she grabbed her hat from the hook by the door, whistled sharply to Duke and went outside. Brooding would drive her mad; the only way to overcome this sudden emptiness was to keep busy.
When she got outside, she saw a dark pickup coming down her road, followed by a trail of dust. Puzzled, she stopped and watched its progress, finally recognizing it as a Buchanan rig. A visit from one of them was the last thing she needed.
Before she could head back to the house for her gun, the door opened and John climbed out.
“Leah, wait!” he called as he hurried toward her, still wearing the same shirt and jeans he'd had on earlier and looking as attractive as he always did.
What more was there to say? Perhaps he'd forgotten something when he left the other day and was here to pick it up. She almost told him to get whatever he'd come for and leave. Resolutely, she stood her ground instead, determined not to let him suspect how much she was going to miss him.
To her surprise, he didn't stop until he was standing close enough for her to see his agitated expression.
“I didn't tell you everything I meant to back in town,” he said by way of greeting. “There's something else I wanted to ask.” He glanced around and then his gaze returned to her face.
“What is it?” Did he have any idea how it hurt her to see him? Apparently not, or he'd leave her alone to lick her wounds and get on with her life. Obviously he wasn't affected by her nearness, despite the passion of that last kiss. Her nerve endings tingled just thinking about it, and that was the worst thing she needed to be thinking about now.
To her surprise, John grabbed both of her hands in his and his face flushed a dusky red. “Leah,” he said in a husky voice, “I love you. Will you marry me?”
They were the words she'd dreamed of hearing, but the timing was all wrong. Struggling for breath, she pulled her hands free.
“Marry you?” she cried. “Just this afternoon you asked me to drop everything and go with you for a visit. Do you have any idea what it is you want?”
He made a gesture with his hand. “I know it sounds crazy, but I think we can make a go of it. Trust me,” he pleaded.
“Trust you?” she echoed. “I did trust you. I believed you when you said your name was John Brown. I bought it when you admitted you had no idea who you were, and I understood when you finally told me you'd gotten your memory back days before and were just getting around to telling me.”
He moved closer. “I know this has all been confusing for you...” He reached out, but Leah dodged his hand.
“I think you're the one who's confused,” she told him. “Do you really expect me to just walk away from my life and go with you, or were you planning on coming back here to live?” When he didn't answer immediately, she went on. “Or perhaps you wanted to have one of those modern marriages where the bride and groom live apart and just get together when both their schedules permit?” she challenged.
“No, of course not. I just haven't ironed out all the details yet.”
“You
haven't ironed them out?” Why was she so angry? Perhaps it was frustration born of the knowledge that she loved this man and she was still going to lose him. She took a deep breath, struggling for calm.
“Are you willing to relocate to Colorado?” she asked softly. Surely a man who built houses for a living could work anywhere?
Slowly, John shook his head. “I can't. It took years to get the business where it is now. And I have a partner. I can't just up and move halfway across the country.”
Leah swallowed hard. “And I have a ranch that's been in my family for three generations. I can't just walk away.”
“You could sell to Taylor.” As soon as the words were out, it was clear he regretted saying them.
“Is that what this is all about?” Leah demanded. “Taylor wants the rest of my land and he sent you here, like a sacrificial lamb, to get me off it any way you can?” Part of her knew she was being vastly unfair, but years of pain and anger were propelling her and she felt powerless to stop.
John looked as though she'd slapped him. “Is that what you think?” His whisper was louder than a gunshot. “Do you really believe I'd ask you to be my wife so my half brother could steal your land?”
Put that way, her accusation sounded ridiculous. Leah's head was starting to pound and she needed to think, but she knew what he asked was impossible. He had to leave; she had to stay. She was about to try to explain it to him when he took one step backward and then another. His eyes blazed with fury and loathing.
“I was a fool,” he said harshly. “I thought you might love me more than you hate my family.” He made a sound of disgust. “I can see how wrong I was.” He spun around and stalked toward his truck.
Leah opened her mouth to call him back, and then she pressed her lips together. Silently, she watched him get in the truck and drive away without looking back.
Did it matter why he believed she had refused his proposal? The important thing, the only thing, was that she'd said no. In that she'd had no choice.
Chapter Thirteen
T
he day John left for Seattle, Taylor and Donovan drove him to the Denver airport. They hadn't bonded overnight and their relationship still had some rough spots, but meeting them and staying at Taylor's had been a good experience for John. If not for losing Leah, he might even be able to look back on his visit to Colorado with genuine fondness someday.
When the three of them got to the gate for his flight to Sea-Tac, he couldn't help but search the crowd with the faint hope that she would come to say goodbye. The area was full of people, but Leah wasn't one of them.
“You've been looking over your shoulder as if you expected a tail,” Taylor commented “Anyone we know?”
John shrugged, embarrassed. He'd asked Taylor to keep an eye on her after he went back to Seattle, but he hadn't said why.
“No one else in Colorado cares that I'm leaving,” he replied.
The other two men exchanged glances, but neither said anything more, for which John was grateful. Leah had made herself perfectly clear; she claimed to love him, just not enough to take a chance on what they felt for each other.
As the boarding for his flight began, Taylor set down the battered duffel bag he'd insisted on carrying. “It was good to meet you,” he said, “despite the circumstances.”
“You, too. I'm sorry for the bad news I laid on you.” John shook his half brother's outstretched hand.
“The past isn't your fault,” Taylor replied. “In a way I wish I could have met your mother. She must have been quite a woman.”
“I think you might have liked her. And I wish I'd known our father. Thanks for showing me those pictures of him.” They'd been generous with their memories and the few old photos they'd been able to save from their early childhood. Taylor had promised to have reprints made and send them.
John turned to Donovan, wishing he had more time to spend with the two men and their families. Their tales about bull riding and steer roping on the rodeo circuit had made his own life seem dull in comparison. Instinct told him he'd probably never see any of them again, but he'd been away from his business for too long already. Steve had called to tell him the permit for a big project had come through earlier than they'd expected, something that almost never happened, and he needed John back in Seattle as soon as he could get there.
“Stay in touch,” he told Donovan. “I'd like to hear from you once in a while. You and your families are the only relatives I have now.”
“Take care, bro,” the big blond replied as easily as if they'd grown up together. His acceptance had been quick and easy. Taylor was more reserved, but John suspected he was that way about everything.
Before John could stick out his hand, Donovan caught him in a bear hug. Awkwardly John slapped his back, blinking away the sudden moisture in his eyes.
The final boarding announcement for his flight blared over the intercom and Donovan let him go. Donovan's face was flushed, but his smile never wavered. “The kids and the women took a shine to you,” he said, voice husky. “You can't be all bad.”
Taylor handed John his duffel bag and then he jammed his hands in his jacket pockets. “Safe trip,” he said gruffly.
John thanked them both again. Then he turned and walked toward the ramp without looking back. Moments later, when the plane was taxiing down the runway, he stared out the window, wondering what Leah was doing right now. Had she remembered that he was leaving today? Was she thinking about him? Was there something he'd missed, something else he could have said?
As the plane left the ground and began its ascent, he realized they were questions without answers. Perhaps he'd misjudged her and the situation, read more into it than was really there. He'd never know now. With mixed feelings, he kept his vigil at the window even though he knew he was heading west, away from Caulder Springs. The land far below was bisected by dirt roads and lines of fence he could barely see. As soon as the plane reached the Rockies, he tipped back his chair, pulled his hat down over his eyes and tried to sleep.
 
Once she knew John was gone, Leah's life returned to its normal routine of work, visiting her mother and chores. Together she and Phil tended the cattle, rode fence and cared for the horses. He was a tireless, enthusiastic worker and she didn't know what she'd do when he moved on. She just dealt with a day at a time.
Leah knew she needed to talk to Taylor about the money he'd been paying toward her mother's care, but she dreaded the confrontation. Whatever his motives had been, she hated the idea of being in his debt either financially or morally. The thanks she was determined to give him would stick in her throat like a bur.
On top of that, she wanted desperately to ask for news about John, but she wouldn't. Hearing about him would make her miss him more than she already did, a bone-deep ache she could only pray would lessen with time and one she refused to lay out for Taylor Buchanan to gloat over.
She'd made the mistake of confiding in Amy that John had proposed before he left. Her friend hadn't bothered to hide her opinion that Leah was crazy for refusing, and she wished now that she'd kept her mouth shut.
“You don't understand,” Leah had told her at the time, drawing a disapproving shush from Miss MacPherson.
“Then explain it to me,” Amy demanded in a whisper.
How could Leah explain what she didn't understand herself? She'd simply shaken her head, fighting tears, and walked away. After several more attempts to bring the subject up, Amy finally took the hint, but now, perversely, Leah missed having someone to talk with about him.
“Do you remember the man I brought with me the last time I was here?” she asked her mother on her next day off. “Before you got sick?” It had been a long time since Leah had confided in her about anything, but maybe today she would listen.
Mama frowned and shook her head. “I'm perfectly healthy,” she said, fussing with the collar of her blouse. “I don't know why you're trying to worry me.” She turned her attention back to the front window as Leah swallowed her disappointment. “The flowers are pretty, aren't they?” she asked in a dreamy tone. “I like the pansies the best.”
After she left the house, feeling more lonely than she had in a long while, Leah found herself visiting her father's grave at the little cemetery on the other side of town. There was a space for Mama beside him when her time came, and a granite marker with their names and the dates of his birth and death engraved on it. As hard as she tried, Leah couldn't feel his presence in the quiet setting, not the way she could when she was on horseback. She wondered whether he'd finally found peace from the restlessness that always seemed to dog his heels when he'd been alive.
“I'm sorry, Daddy. I don't seem able to please you any more than I ever did,” Leah said softly as she left the bouquet of red and white carnations Irene had given her. He'd never cared for the spicy smell of carnations.
Over lunch back at the house, she did her best to banish John's memory and the meals they had shared. When that didn't work, she gave up, trying instead to picture what he might be doing right now.
“I never thought to ask if he had a dog,” she said to Duke, who lay in the living room with his head on his paws. Her voice was a hollow echo in the empty house.
Was John still at his office catching up on paperwork, or supervising a building site, or eating lunch just as she was? Seattle was only one time zone away. Did he miss her, or had he already put his experience in Colorado behind him?
A sudden thought occurred to her, destroying what little appetite she'd had, and she shoved aside her plate. What if he wasn't alone? He must know women in Seattle. Had he already cut his losses and moved on while she picked at her food and brooded over him like a lovesick calf?
Leah glanced out the window, searching for an escape from the sudden ache in her chest. Perhaps it was time to visit her neighbor. If she was so determined to be miserable, she might as well be accomplishing something while she was.
 
“Hey, man, where did you wander off to?” Steve Jenkins demanded, smacking the table with a roll of blueprints. “I've been talking to you about the expansion on the Cameron place, and you haven't heard one word I've said.”
John rubbed his eyes and gave his partner an apologetic grin. “Sorry. I was thinking about something else.”
Steve's gaze narrowed “Something—or someone—back in Colorado,” he guessed, “and I don't mean your long-lost brothers.”
They'd been friends for a long time, and Steve was used to speaking his mind. Although John hadn't said much about Leah except that she'd taken him in when he had amnesia, his friend knew him almost as well as he knew himself. Apparently Steve had been doing a little reading between the lines.
“You're right,” John admitted. “There was more going on between Leah and me than I told you.”
“I'm listening.” Steve sat down in a swivel chair, propped his legs on a box of plumbing fixtures and grinned up at John expectantly. “Start at the top and don't leave anything out,” he said, folding his arms across his chest.
 
When Leah got home from Taylor's, the first thing she did was to saddle Jewel and head out at a full gallop. Phil looked up and waved from one of the corrals, but she didn't slow down. She needed to be alone, to think and to remember.
Taylor told her she needed to face her past—that only then would she be able to move on.
He hadn't sounded surprised when she called to set up a meeting with him. He had offered to come to her, but she wanted to confront him on his own turf. When she got to his house, though, both he and his wife treated her the same as they had when she'd baby-sat their children. Ashley had offered her coffee and pie. Only after Leah refused did Taylor lead her to his office and shut the door.
There he had listened to her accusations quietly, accepted her grudging thanks graciously and, when they finally came, dried her angry tears solicitously. Only when she ran out of words did he respond.
With obvious reluctance he showed her the reports that led to her father's termination by the rodeo. It was then she learned for the first time that he hadn't been fired based solely on Taylor's word, as she'd always been led to believe. Three bull riders had testified to his drinking that day, and the other clown he worked with confirmed that it wasn't the first time he'd gone into the arena less than sober. It was all documented in the official inquiry Taylor gave her to read.
When she was done, Leah set down the report with a hand that trembled. Her insides were churning. “Why didn't you show me this before?”
Taylor shrugged. “You never asked. I hoped you'd eventually let it go without finding all this out.” He put the report back in a file and shut the drawer. “What I want to know is why are you asking now?”
She owed him an honest answer. “Because John's a Buchanan and I couldn't handle that.”
“I see.” Taylor perched on the corner of his desk. “I liked him. He's a good man.” Like a laser, Taylor's gaze cut through to her heart. “When we took him to the airport, John kept looking over his shoulder. He didn't board his flight until the last possible minute, and it wasn't because Donnie and I were hanging around.” He studied her for a long moment. “Is there a connection here that I'm missing?”
Unable to stay silent for another moment, Leah broke down and told him about John's proposal. “How could I just up and leave everything behind?” she demanded. “Never mind that he's a Buchanan—and that was another whole set of problems at the time—but you know how important the ranch is to me.”
Taylor rose and went to the window. Outside, the view of unbroken grazing land stretched to the horizon. “The good Lord knows how much I love this spread,” he said in a husky voice. “I've poured my sweat, my blood and even my tears into every last acre. But I'd give it up in a moment for Ashley or our children.” He turned and looked into Leah's face. “Honey, the land can't love you back. Only you can decide which you'd rather have, your ranch without John or him without the land. Sometimes there's no other way to go.”
Leah couldn't have spoken then to yell for help if her life had been in danger. Her mind was full to bursting and she needed to sort it all out.
Taylor must have sensed how she felt. “If you're going to put your spread ahead of everything else, just make sure it's what
you
want,” he said, tapping her chin lightly, “because there's no one else whose approval you need anymore.”
“I'm not doing this for anyone else,” she denied.
He lifted his brows. “Aren't you? Think about it.” He handed Leah her purse and escorted her back to the spacious entry. Before he opened the door, she found her voice and tried to give him the thanks and the apology she knew he deserved, but he brushed them aside.

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