Hawk's Way Grooms (23 page)

“I'm sure my brothers will come around on holidays.”

“Don't any of them want to live here with you? What's Randy going to do when he finishes college?” Colt asked.

“He wants to go into business for himself and earn lots of money.”

“Fine. What about Sam and Tyler and James?”

“Sam's foreman for a nearby ranch,” Jenny said. “Tyler's headed to medical school in Houston. And James…”

“What about James?”

She gave him a wondering look. “James is studying to become a minister. So you see, I'm on my own.”

Colt saw a great deal. She'd given up her own hopes and dreams to make sure her brothers realized theirs. Every extra penny must have gone for tuition or books or clothes. That was why the ranch had suffered. She was obviously very proud of them, and their opposition to this marriage was proof of how much they cared for her.

He couldn't just marry her and leave her here to manage on her own. On the other hand, he didn't think he could give up flying, either.

“Have you ever thought about selling the Double D?” he asked.

“I've thought about it,” she admitted.

“And?”

Her eyes searched the horizon. He looked along with her and didn't see much, just a few scrub mesquite, some cactus and buffalo grass and bluebonnets, and in the distance, a few craggy bluffs that marked deep canyons similar to those that graced Hawk's Pride.

“I know it doesn't seem like much,” she said. “But I love it. I feel connected to everyone who came before me.” She turned to look at him. “I want—wanted—my children to grow up here and to love their heritage as much as I do.”

Colt imagined Jenny playing with a bunch of kids, tickling them and laughing with them and having fun…without him. Because he'd be off flying jets.

It wouldn't be fair to leave her alone and pregnant.

Is it any more fair to deprive her of the one thing she wants that you can give her?

Colt took two steps toward Jenny and brushed a stray wisp of hair from her brow. His hand lingered on her cheek. “It's not too late for children, if you really want them.”

“I can't raise them alone, Colt. Or rather, I won't do that to them. My dad left us and…I just wouldn't do that to any child of mine. Not if I could help it.”

“I see.” Colt looked deep into Jenny's eyes, wondering how it had come to this—a choice between the woman he had always loved, and the thing he loved doing most.

It didn't make it any easier to know that she didn't love him. That her heart belonged—would always belong—to his best friend.

C
OLT STUDIED
J
ENNY IN THE SLEEVELESS
black sheath she'd worn to the memorial service for Huck. She was surrounded by friends who'd come to the Double D to bring mountains of food and offer their condolences. Her hair was gathered in a shiny golden knot at her crown, leaving her neck and shoulders bare, so he could see her body curved in all the right places. But she left a frail shadow on the ground, and her face looked wan. It dawned on him suddenly that she might be sick.

Sick people sometimes die.

Colt forced back the feeling of panic.
Jenny isn't sick. She's just tired.
The fear that she might be ill was like a living thing inside him, clawing at him, tearing at his insides. He knew his feelings were irrational, but his dread was born of firsthand experience.

When he was too young to know better, he'd made friends of the kids who attended Camp LittleHawk, the camp for kids with cancer started by his mother at Hawk's Pride. He was eight when he met Tom Hartwell. Like many of the kids at camp, Tom had leukemia, but it was in remission. He and Tom had become blood brothers. Tom wanted to fly jets someday. Colt said he'd never thought much about it, but it sounded like fun.

Colt felt his insides squeeze at the memory of the freckle-faced, blue-eyed boy. Tom had worn a baseball cap to cover his head, left bald by chemotherapy. “My hair's really, really red,” Tom had said with a grin. “Wait till it grows back in. You won't believe it!”

But the leukemia had come back, and neither Colt's raging nor his prayers—nor the best doctors money could buy—had been able to save his blood brother. Tom had died before Colt ever got a chance to see his red hair.

Jenny's not sick. She's just tired,
he repeated to himself.

Nevertheless, he moved hurriedly through the crowd of mourners, briefly greeting neighbors he hadn't seen in years, catching brief snatches of conversation.

“…Remember when Huck and Jenny and Colt…”

“Then Huck and Jenny and Colt went galloping across…”

“—going to take Huck's place at the altar. Can you believe…”

He stood at Jenny's shoulder and knew she was aware of him when she leaned back against him and reached for his hand. He interrupted old Mrs. Carmichael to say, “Jenny and I are going out onto the porch for some air. Please excuse us,” and led her away without looking back.

It wasn't easy getting through the kitchen, which was also full of people, including most of his own siblings. He didn't allow anyone to stop them. “Jenny needs some air,” he said as he headed inexorably for the back porch.

Even there they found no respite. His mother and father stood on the porch, along with two of Jenny's brothers.

“There they are now,” Sam said when he spied them. “I want to talk to you, Colt. I don't think—”

“Not now,” Colt said without stopping. “Jenny and I are going for a walk.” He put himself between her and everyone else and headed off down the rutted dirt road that led away from the ranch.

Jenny stumbled once in her black pumps, and he put his arm around her waist and kept on walking.

“Where's the fire?” Jenny asked.

Colt stopped abruptly and stared at her. “What?”

“Where are we going in such a hurry?”

Colt realized he'd been blindly running from his fear, which stabbed him anew when he looked down and saw the gauntness beneath her cheekbones and the shadows beneath her eyes. He had to work to keep his voice steady as he asked, “Are you all right?”

She gave him a quizzical look. “My fiancé is dead, and I've agreed to marry another man in a matter of weeks, but otherwise I suppose—”

He shook his head impatiently. “I mean, are you feeling all right? You look so thin, so exhausted. I thought you might be…sick.”

She stiffened and looked away. “If I were, I wouldn't expect you to take care of me.”

The air soughed slowly from Colt's lungs. Jenny knew better than anyone how assiduously he avoided sick people. When they were kids, he hadn't come near her house for a long time because her mother was dying of cancer, and he couldn't face seeing the ravages of the disease. He put a hand on her shoulder, and she jerked free and turned to face him.

“To answer your question, I'm fine, just very tired and very unhappy,” she snapped. “We should go back now.”

She'd already started back toward the house when he caught her elbow and turned her around again. “This way,” he said, leading her along the twin dirt tracks that had been created by wagon wheels more than a century before.

She went along but asked, “Where are we going?”

“You need to rest.”

She laughed. “Rest? You've practically got me jogging in high heels. I'm going to sprain an ankle—”

He scooped her up into his arms, making her cry out in surprise and grab his shoulders. He left the road, heading across country toward a single live oak that created a circle of shade.

She laughed at him uneasily. “Colt, where are you taking me?”

“Somewhere you can take a nap in peace and quiet.”

“I've got company at the house.”

“All of whom are perfectly capable of entertaining themselves with stories of ‘Huck and Jenny and Colt,'” he said.

He set her down on the patchy grass, then sat with his back against the trunk of the live oak, his legs stretched out in front of him, and pulled her down beside him. “Lay your head on my lap and relax,” he said.

“Colt—”

He tugged on her hand. “Humor me, Jenny.”

When she was settled with her head on his thigh, she closed her eyes and heaved a great sigh. The wind rustled the leaves of the live oak, and cattle lowed in the distance. A jay complained on a branch above them. They might have been a thousand miles from another human being.

“Thank you, Colt,” Jenny murmured. “I didn't realize how much I needed a little peace and quiet.”

He reached down and pulled the pins from her hair, then ran his fingers through the silky mass, massaging her scalp where the knot had been.

“That feels wonderful,” she said.

Colt wanted to do a lot more, to hold her in his arms, to lie next to her, body to body. Instead he settled his hand on her nape, where he gently massaged the tense muscles.

“I'm not sure I could have heard one more story about Huck and me and you without breaking into tears,” Jenny confessed in a quiet voice. “Thanks for rescuing me.”

“That's too bad. I've got one I'd like to tell,” Colt said.

Jenny's eyes opened, and she started to sit up. “Oh?”

He pressed her back down and said, “Relax. It's a good story, I promise.”

“All right. Go ahead.”

He could feel the rigidity in her body, the physical wariness. She'd taken so many blows lately, and he wanted to spare her any more pain. But avoiding the subject wasn't the answer. Neither of them was likely to forget the part Huck had played in their lives. They both had to accept his loss and move on.

Colt brushed a stray curl from Jenny's brow and said, “Huck and I were riding camels—”

Jenny's head popped up. “Camels? Really?”

“Lie down and listen,” Colt said with a chuckle. When Jenny was settled again with her cheek on his thigh, he continued. “Huck and I were riding camels in Cairo, tourists traveling from one pyramid to the next, when he turned to me and said, ‘I wish Jenny were here, because she'd have the nerve to see just how fast this beast can go. We'd be galloping across the desert instead of walking sedately behind some guide.'”

“Did Huck really say that?”

“He did,” Colt confirmed. “And he was right. You're an amazing woman, Jenny.”

She lifted her head and looked at him. “If I'm so amazing, why didn't he come back sooner? Why did he leave me alone so long?”

Colt hesitated. There was no excuse for Huck's behavior. There was an explanation. “He loved flying.”

“More than he loved me,” she said bitterly. She sat up abruptly, her back to Colt, her head bowed.

He saw her shoulders heave and knew she was crying again, though she made no sound. He sought words to comfort her. “He missed you terribly, Jenny. He ached for you. He admired you for taking care of your brothers.” He had never heard Huck say any of those things out loud, but he had felt them himself, and he couldn't believe Huck hadn't felt them, as well.

“I hate those damned jets!” Jenny said vehemently. “I hate—” A sob cut her off.

Colt could resist no longer. He wrapped his arms tightly around her from behind, pressing his cheek against hers. “Huck's father had a great deal to do with keeping him away, Jenny. The senator didn't think his son should be saddled with the responsibility of raising someone else's family. It didn't help that Huck was rich, and you were poor.”

“He thought Huck could do better,” Jenny said. “He told me so to my face the one time I met him.”

Colt bit back a gasp of disbelief. He'd known how Huck's father felt; he hadn't known Senator Duncan had been so blunt with Jenny. “Huck never let the senator sway him, Jenny. He always loved you.”

“Just not enough,” Jenny said.

 

R
ANDY HAD BEEN WATCHING
F
AITH
Butler for almost an hour without going anywhere near her. Faith stuck pretty close to her twin sister, Hope, who'd gathered a crowd of admiring boys around her. Faith stood behind Hope like a shadow of her sister. It had been that way for as long as Randy could remember.

Hope Butler's behavior was
outrageous.
At least, that was the word Jenny used to describe her. Her face was usually slathered with makeup, and she wore her dresses cut low enough to cause problems with the fit of a guy's jeans. She smoked and drank and drove her car like a bat out of hell.

Randy figured she worked so hard to attract attention to herself so nobody would notice Faith. That is, so people would spend more time talking about the difference in their personalities rather than the other, more obvious difference between them.

They were both beautiful, with long, straight black hair they wore parted in the middle, and dark chocolate eyes and smooth, creamy skin. But something had gone wrong when they were in the womb, and Faith's left hand had stopped growing. Her arm ended shortly beyond the wrist, and she wore a plastic prosthetic device with a metal hook that substituted for her missing hand.

Like most of the guys, Randy had been attracted to Hope at first. Some guys said she “put out,” and he'd been hoping he'd get lucky and score with her. Somewhere along the line, he'd gotten distracted by Faith.

He watched her now, standing serenely behind her sister, her left hand unobtrusively tucked behind her back. Faith smiled at Hope's anecdotes and seemed not to mind that her sister was the center of attention. Faith never made a big deal about the fact she didn't have a left hand.

Randy wondered if Faith ever minded all the guys paying attention to her sister instead of her, or if she ever felt angry or bitter about being the “imperfect” twin. He wondered what it would be like to date a girl like that. And shuddered involuntarily when he thought of that hook at the end of her arm anywhere near him.

He flushed with shame. It wasn't Faith's fault she was born like that. Remorse moved him in her direction. He walked right up to her and said, “Hi. I noticed your glass is almost empty. Can I get you something else to drink?”

She looked startled and frightened, like a deer he'd come upon suddenly in the brush when he was hunting. He was no more able to hurt her than he'd been able to kill that deer. “I noticed you from across the room,” he said.

That only seemed to make her more self-conscious, so he quickly added, “I mean, I was noticing how pretty you look.”

Her lashes lowered over her eyes, and two red spots appeared on her cheeks. “Thank you,” she said in a barely audible voice.

The more shy she was, the more protective he felt. “I wondered if you might want to go to the movies with me sometime.”

Her lashes lifted and she looked up at him and he felt his heart skip a beat. “Are you asking me out?” she asked.

With the full force of her gaze directed at him, he couldn't catch his breath to speak. His mind had turned to mush.

She smiled at his confusion and for the first time her left hand came out from behind her back. “You must have mistaken me for my sister.”

He made himself look at the hooked hand she'd brought out to make sure he knew she was the imperfect twin. He shook his head, but was still unable to speak.

She smiled sweetly. “I'll tell Hope—”

“I meant you,” he blurted. “I want to take you out on a date.”