Carrying the Rancher's Heir (14 page)

“It might be too much, with the baby coming and all.”

Callie wouldn't back down. “I feel fine. If it ever got to be too much, I'd tell you.”

“I'm used to doing things a certain way.”

“Jackson said you were thinking of hiring someone to assist you.”

“Jackson has a big mouth. And he doesn't know what he's talking about.”

“Tagg, why are you resisting this so much? I'm here. I know the cattle business. Wives help their husbands. I want to do that for you.”

He stared at her and shook his head, hesitating to say what was on his mind.

“What?”

He glanced at his watch. “I've got to get going, Callie. Let's talk about it when I get back.”

Tagg gave her a kiss goodbye and left. She listened until she heard his car pull out of the garage and power down the road, the crunch of gravel fading from earshot.

And then it dawned on her why Tagg wouldn't let her work with him. She let out a pitiful laugh. It all boiled down to Hawkins Sullivan. Tagg couldn't forget who she was. She hoped that wasn't the case, but deep down she feared that was still true. Yet, Callie didn't understand why her father treated the Worths like they were his mortal enemy. It was high time she got to the bottom of it and found out the truth.

 

The next day Callie sat at the Greenhouse Café in Red Ridge facing her father. When he'd first sat down, he had a sour look on his face, especially when he noticed the fresh turkey and veggie salad waiting for him on his side of the table.

“It's not that bad, Dad. In fact, it's delicious.” Callie took a big bite to prove her point. She tried keeping her spirits up with her father, lest he see she was struggling in her marriage.

“Like the sole of my shoe,” he grumbled, but he lifted the fork to his mouth and took a bite.

Callie smiled. He'd probably never change. It was too much to ask. “So, how are you?”

He set his hands on the table. “Fine. Just dandy. My daughter got married and I was allowed to watch from a football field away.”

“Dad, when we agreed to meet for lunch, we also agreed not to argue. Let's just be happy to see each other.”

He clammed up and nodded.

She saw more pronounced age lines around his eyes now. His ruddy face appeared more sallow. “I love you, Daddy.”

“You have a funny way of showing it.”

“Dad,” she warned. In many ways, her father was like the child and she was the adult in their relationship.

“I love you, too.”

She smiled. “I know.” She wished he wouldn't love her so much.

“I need to know something, Dad. It's important. I'm married to Taggart Worth—”

“Don't remind me. My heart can't take it.”

“You see, that's what I don't understand. You have other competitors in the area. Granted they're not as big as the Worths, but you don't seem to mind losing out to one of them.”

“I mind. I just don't let it get to me.”

“But you hate losing out to the Worths.”

“Can't deny that.”

“Why, Daddy? You seem to target them, time and again. Nothing makes you happier than beating them at their own game. And I would suspect you'd rather take a loss than let them win a contract. I just don't get it. You can barely stand to hear the Worth name. And it's always been that way.”

He pointed his fork at her. “And you…you're having a Worth baby.” He uttered
Worth
with enough venom to down an elephant. Callie had to find out why he hated them so much, but she also had to set her father straight.

“Our baby will be half Sullivan, Daddy.”

“Humph.”

“I want this baby.”

“You've never known what's good for you.”

“And thanks for asking how I'm feeling.”

“I can see you're healthy. You've got the color back in your cheeks. You're eating and look pretty as a picture.”

Callie smiled. “Thank you.” She'd take a backhanded compliment from her father whenever she could get one. “But
you're still not off the hook for trying to bargain the baby away from Tagg.”

“Annoyed him, did I?” His eyes lit up for a moment before he took a bite of his salad.

“I'm in love with Tagg.”

“He doesn't love you.”

That hurt. Hearing her father voice her biggest fear dug a giant hole out of her heart. She couldn't deny it. She couldn't prove her father wrong. She wished she had Tagg's love. She wished for a lot of things, but she wasn't greedy. Right now, she'd settle for his trust. She'd come to learn that life was messy at times. And this was one of those times.

“Why do you feel such bitterness toward the Worths? I know it's something more than business. Please, Dad,” she said, her plea grabbing his full attention. “Tell me. This isn't a joke. It's my life. And I'm being torn apart by two men that I love.”

Her father's expression changed. The hardness in his eyes softened. A sad frown pulled at his mouth. “All right, I'll tell you. But this is only for your ears. You're never to tell another soul about this. Not your friends, not that miserable husband of yours.”

Callie shut her eyes momentarily. She hated hearing her father speak so ill of the man she loved.

“I need your promise, Callie.”

“I promise.” Luckily, she'd picked a corner booth in the café for their lunch. The restaurant wasn't crowded and she was certain they were out of range for anyone eavesdropping.

Still, her father lowered his voice before he spoke. “And I'm only telling you this hoping to persuade you to leave your husband and come back home where you belong.” He paused when Callie didn't respond to that. “It has to do with your mother.”

“Mom?” Callie blinked. She wouldn't have guessed this in a million years. “What does Mom have to do with it?”

“She was in love with Rory Worth when I met her.”

“Mom? And Tagg's father, Rory? But I never heard—”

“No one else knows this. Just me. And now you. Rory's dead and gone and good riddance to him. He never told a soul what he'd done.”

Callie listened, part of her wishing she didn't need to hear this.

“He took your mother's virginity and got her pregnant straightaway. Catherine was only nineteen at the time.”

No, she really didn't need to hear this, but she
had
to know.

Her father's voice grew quieter. “By the time your mother realized she was with child she went to Rory with the news. You can imagine how frightened she was. She'd trusted him and he'd played fast and loose with her. He told her he didn't love her. Told her he couldn't possibly marry her, because he was engaged to be married to another woman.”

“Oh, wow.” Callie couldn't believe what she was hearing. “That must have been Isabella Worth, Tagg's mother.”

He nodded.

“It seems Rory and Belle had broken up for all of two weeks. But Rory hadn't grieved about the breakup. Instead, he'd gotten drunk one night—that was his excuse—and Catherine was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He'd charmed her into bed. Oh, she was head over heels in love with Rory. Had been for years. It broke my heart, because
she
loved him the way
I
loved her. And there she was, pregnant with Rory's child. It was my chance to make things right. I offered her marriage. She told me a part of her would always love Rory Worth. I understood that and hated it and, yet, I still wanted her. I wanted to love her and help her through it
all. But she wouldn't marry me. She said it wasn't fair to me. But I hung in there. You see, I loved her enough for both of us.”

Her father stopped talking, his voice hoarse and weary. He gazed down at the table in thought and then a smirk broadened his face. “I beat the crap out of that miserable Rory one night. He never knew what hit him, and no one spoke about it afterward. He knew why. And that was good enough for me.”

“Dad, you?”

“I was in better physical shape then, Callie. Don't look so surprised.”

“I'm…not.” But she really was. “You said mom wouldn't marry you.”

“No. Not right then. She lost the baby shortly after that and it devastated her. She went into a depression. Of course, those who knew her thought the baby was mine. And that was fine by me. I didn't want anyone thinking less of your mother and everyone knew I'd asked her to marry me about a dozen times. I guess I wore her down. She finally accepted my proposal.”

Callie sipped her drink, the lemonade going down like acid. “I thought you two were happy.”

He reached out for her hand and she clasped it. For a moment, Callie could see her father back then, young, vital and so much in love with her mother that he'd do anything to protect her. “We were. We had a good life. She never looked back after you were born, Callie. You made everything right. I guess that's why I dote on you.”

Callie got that. She always had, but now she knew why. She knew the extent of the love her father had for her mother. And she understood why he hated Rory Worth. It must have been hard living in the same town, doing business, knowing
that the woman he loved would always be in love with another man.

“So now you know why I never wanted you near a Worth,” he said finally, after moments of silence.

Callie had to let it all sink in. “Yeah, now I understand your reasons.” But it had nothing to do with Tagg and his brothers. Why couldn't he see that? Her father's way of getting back at them was to beat the crap out of them in business.

“You're wrong to hold what Rory did against his sons.”

“You know what they say about the sins of the father,” he replied stubbornly. “I'm not wrong.”

Tears welled in Callie's eyes. Her situation seemed so hopeless. She loved Tagg with all of her heart, but he still saw her as the enemy. She would always be the daughter of his fiercest competitor. “Dad, you don't have any plans to retire, do you?” Was it silly of her to hope?

He looked a little baffled and shook his head. “Not a chance. Who would I leave my legacy to? You don't want it.”

Oh, God.

Life just kept on getting more and more complicated.

T
agg walked through the door late that afternoon and Callie's heart beat a little faster when their eyes met. She left the paint chips and fabric samples she'd been carefully studying on the kitchen counter and walked over to greet him.

“How was your trip?”

Tagg pushed back his black felt hat and smiled. “It went well. I'm happy to be home, though.”

“You are?”

“Yeah.” He seemed a little surprised by his admission. “I guess I just realized that, the second I walked through the door.” He leaned over to kiss her on the cheek—a regular, honey-I'm-home kind of kiss that brought Callie immense joy.

“I'm happy to have you home. Are you hungry?”

He shook his head. “No, but I could use a drink.”

“Soft or hard?”

“Definitely hard.”

“I'll get it for you.”

Tagg followed her into the kitchen and tossed his hat on a chair. She moved efficiently, grabbing a tumbler from the cabinet and going into the parlor to retrieve the liquor. While she was gone, Tagg had moved to the granite island where she had samples all spread out. She poured his drink.

“What's all this?” He stared at the items on the counter.

Callie handed him the glass and stood beside him. “Don't think I'm silly, but I've been thinking about decorating the nursery. Colors and patterns have sort of been popping into my mind. So, on my way home from town today, I picked up some samples.”

He studied the pastel paint chips and glanced over half a dozen squares of fabric she'd laid out. “Sounds like a good idea.”

“It's a little early. But I'm kind of excited.”

Tagg glanced at her stomach and his brows rose. He noticed the little bump expanding under her navel. Her jeans were fitting much tighter, so she'd put on a pair of black spandex that actually revealed her newly plump belly even more. “Maybe not too early.”

Was there a hint of excitement in his voice? He came up behind her. His breath caressed her throat. And to her surprise his hand cupped her belly, ever so gently. She closed her eyes.

“Do you feel anything yet?” he asked.

“Only that my jeans aren't fitting right. The baby,” Callie began, and for the very first time, she really felt pregnant with the reality of that little bump taking hold, “the baby is popping me out of my jeans.”

Tagg stroked her stomach and she prayed he wouldn't disappoint her, wouldn't say something to spoil the mo
ment. “I've only been gone overnight, but I can see the difference.”

“It's strange, isn't it?”

“Not strange, Callie. Natural. And fitting.”

Callie placed her hand over his and they stood there together, quietly enjoying the moment.

She spoke softly. “I missed you, Tagg.”

He kissed her neck and pressed her closer to him, her back resting against his chest. “It was nice coming home to you, Callie.”

Callie's lips trembled. She'd never thought she'd hear those words from Tagg. It wasn't an admission of love but was wonderful to hear nonetheless.

“Why'd you go into town?” he asked, breaking their embrace to sip his drink.

Callie stepped to the side of the counter, the pastel paint chips catching her eye.
Lie,
a little voice in her head begged. Lie and don't bring up The Hawk's name. But as she peered into Tagg's gorgeous eyes, she couldn't do it. She owed him and their relationship the truth. “I met my father for lunch.”

Tagg took another sip of his drink and digested the information. He nodded and then dropped the subject. “So what color do you like?” He pointed with his index finger at the options on the counter.

“Oh, uh…I don't know. I think sage green is nice for a boy. But then, I'm a sucker for pink, if it's a girl.”

Tagg picked up the cotton-candy-pink paint chip. “That would be a first in a Worth household.”

“Awful?”

“Just different. I grew up in a house full of men. We didn't do pink.”

Callie laughed, relieved that Tagg didn't get bent out of shape at the mention of her father's name. “I guess I jumped
the gun. Can't really decorate the room until we know if the baby is a boy or a girl.”

Tagg gazed at her stomach again. “When will we know?”

She shrugged. “In a month or two, I think.”

“Well, in that case, maybe we should put our efforts into Penny's Song. I'm going to put on a little rodeo for the children when they arrive. You know, show them some roping and riding.”

Callie liked that idea. “I was a pretty good barrel racer. Though I never did it for the rodeo, I can find my way around those barrels again.”

Tagg shook his head. “No, Callie. I'd rather you not. It's too dangerous.”

“Tagg, I'd only go through the motions. There's nothing dangerous about that. I'd set up the barrels and show them the ins and outs.” She grinned at her little pun.

“You think you're funny.” Tagg sighed and scratched his head, then gazed into her eyes. “Okay.”

Callie felt she was winning small battles in her quest to gain Tagg's trust. After feeling her situation was hopeless this morning while speaking with her father, Tagg's change in attitude when he'd come home today had given her an inkling of hope. If she could build on that, then they'd have a fighting chance.

 

Brutal memories flooded his mind as Tagg tossed and turned in bed, his heart pounding, his body trembling. During the day, Tagg's head was crammed with enough Worth business to keep from remembering Heather's death. But nighttime was different. Often, the stilling silence while lying in the dark caught him off guard. Tonight was one of
those nights when he couldn't push away those punishing guilt-ridden thoughts.

Tagg strode through the front door of the main house, eager to see Heather. He needed to hold his wife in his arms, to feel her golden-wheat hair slide between his fingers, to see the look of love in her eyes when they finally came face-to-face.

She was his solace. She was his peace. She made his life complete.

Tagg had never loved this way before. He'd taken one look at her and known the Rodeo Queen was going to be his.

He found her in the parlor. Sitting beside a man, their heads intimately close, their bodies nearly brushing. Tagg's smile vanished and he pursed his lips. He'd never seen this man before—a man who obviously knew Heather all too well.

He stopped short of entering the room, leaning against the door frame. “Heather?” She closed her eyes briefly and when she finally opened them to peer at him, a look of guilt crossed her features. She averted her gaze.

The man stood and crossed the room, offering his hand. “I'm Pierce Donnelly.”

Warily, Tagg shook his hand. “Taggart Worth.”

“I was just on my way out.”

Tagg gripped the man's arm as he tried to brush by him. “Who are you?”

Heather rose from the sofa. “Let him go, Tagg. I'll explain everything.”

Tagg released him and watched him walk out the door, then turned to his wife. Heather confessed to him that Pierce was her first husband. A boy from her past whom she'd married right out of high school. They'd been together for two months before they'd had the marriage annulled. Teary-
eyed, Heather explained to Tagg that she'd been keeping up correspondence with him, sending him money when he needed it and that she'd never wanted anyone to know she'd been married before.

Stunned by the news, Tagg cursed vehemently as he tried to comprehend why she'd kept this secret from him. He accused her of purposely betraying and deceiving him even as Heather denied it, crying her eyes out. Furious with her, he wouldn't listen to her explanations. He didn't care that she'd known Pierce from childhood and that he had a drinking problem and needed professional help. He didn't care that Heather didn't want to abandon Pierce fully and that he'd relied on her friendship. All Tagg cared about was that his perfect wife had intentionally lied to him over and over, shattering his image of her, of them.

She tried once more, “I was going to tell you…”

Tagg turned his back on her, refusing to look at her, refusing to accept her countless apologies. “You should have, Heather. You should have trusted me.”

“I know, Tagg, I know. What can I do to make it up to you?”

He turned to her and shook his head. “I don't know.” He was angrier with her than he'd ever been in his life. And hurt as hell. “I can't think straight right now. I need to get out of here for a few days to cool off. I'll go somewhere. I don't know…maybe to Jackson's place in Phoenix.”

She put her hand on his arm, her teary eyes filled with sincerity. “No, Tagg. You shouldn't have to leave your home. I'll go. It'll give us some breathing room. I owe my mother a visit. I'll leave tonight for Denver and we'll talk when I get back. I promise I'll make this right.” Tears spilling down her cheeks, her voice broke with deep emotion. “I love you so very much.”

Tagg nodded, unable to manage even a halfhearted smile. He didn't say the words she wanted to hear. He didn't ask her to stay. He let his pride rule his heart.

Later that night, a firm knock resounded on Tagg's door. The shocking news was a blow that nearly destroyed him. “I'm sorry to have to tell you this, Mr. Worth, but you're wife was killed in a plane crash.”

Tagg broke out in a sweat, his body shaking uncontrollably. This memory was too vivid, too real. He'd seen everything in color this time. His chest constricted and he had trouble catching his breath. He bolted up from his prone position on the bed and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to free his mind of the haunting memories and the mistakes he'd made with Heather.

Moonlight streamed into the bedroom and illuminated the woman lying next to him in bed. His new wife. Callie. She stirred restlessly, and Tagg didn't want to risk waking her.

Without a sound, he rose from the bed, testing his legs for stability. He was still shaky when he walked out the door and headed to the corral.

Princess lifted her head when he approached. She was the feistiest of his mares, the one who was always alert, always on guard. Trick, the filly, Russet and Starlight slept on the ground, the mares preferring the summer nights outside to the stable.

It was okay that Princess didn't approach him. He didn't want to disturb her. He didn't want to disturb anything. The open range and the vast starlit sky eased his mind, granting him a minuscule amount of peace. He stared out, grateful for the ranch and the plentiful land that had been in his family for generations.

He'd built his house on the very spot where Elizabeth and Chance Worth once lived, more than one hundred years ago.
He envisioned them here, starting up the ranch, struggling with drought, disease and rustlers, yet forging on despite their obstacles—their deep love and devotion getting them through dark days. They'd known their share of adversity and he wondered if the land, the Red Ridge Mountains and the infinite sky had brought them the same sense of comfort.

“Tagg?” Callie's sweet voice broke into his thoughts.

He turned and saw her step off the porch clad in a white nightgown that barely reached her knees. Her thick, dark hair framed her face, the curls bouncing against her chest as she moved toward him, guided only by the light of the moon.

Maybe it was the moment, or the mood he was in, but Callie's presence as she came to stand before him filled an empty hole inside him.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

A curly lock of hair had fallen forward onto her cheek and he reached for it, gently tucking it behind her ear. He traced his finger along the side of her face and down to lift her chin up and look into her pretty caramel eyes. “I'm fine.”

“You couldn't sleep again?” Her voice held concern. “And you came outside for the mares to lend you comfort?”

He smiled. “Something like that. I'm sorry I woke you.”

“I was worried.”

He took her hand in his, skimming over her fingers gently. “I appreciate it, Callie.”

Her voice was a soft whisper as she squeezed his hand. “I'm here for you. What can I do to help?”

He leaned closer and brushed a tender kiss to her lips, his mouth lingering near hers. “That'll help some.”

“I'm glad.”

They stood there for a few silent moments, gazing out at the night sky. When a chilly breeze made Callie shiver, he
slipped his arm around her shoulder and walked her toward the house. “Let's go back to bed.”

They entered the house quietly and climbed back into Tagg's big bed. He curled his arm around Callie and spooned her until she fell asleep. The weight of his burden had been lifted tonight. He grasped at the tranquility he felt and closed his eyes, finally free of the bad memories darkness usually brought him.

Tonight, Tagg forgot who Callie's father was.

Tonight, Tagg fell a little bit in love with his wife.

To his amazement, the notion didn't frighten him as much as it once would have.

 

Two days later, Tagg slammed the drawer in his office with enough force to rival an Arizona monsoon. The vibration shook the desk and echoed off his office walls. His coffee cup rebelled from the force and splashed liquid all over his files before dripping onto the hardwood floor in a muddy mess. He found no satisfaction in almost breaking the drawer. He slammed it again for good measure. Once again, the desk shook.

“Sonofabitch!” He spit out every other expletive he knew. Neither the slamming nor the cursing made him feel any better. He stared at the screen on his computer in disbelief and shook his head as he reread the email he'd received this morning from PricePoint Foods in Tucson. “I don't get it.”