Night Thunder (17 page)

Chapter 15

“OH, MY LORD.” TWO DAYS LATER, ADA STARED at the finished gown in wonder.

Corinne didn’t say a word. She touched the satin fabric, brushed a finger along the seed pearls swirling across the strapless bodice, raised her gaze in mute awe to Josy’s face.

“I can’t believe it. This . . . is the same dress?”

“More or less.” Josy smiled. The sun shone gloriously through the windows of Ada’s house and set the ivory dress shimmering in a halo of pearlescent light. She was pleased with the results of her efforts, pleased with the sophisticated flair of the train, the glamorous strapless cut, and the rich sparkle of the seed pearls. She was even more pleased because in working on Corinne’s gown, the lock inside her brain had somehow unlatched, and she’d almost magically envisioned and sketched four ball gowns and one knockout cocktail dress. All sexy and elegant and fresher than anything she’d seen on a runway in the past two years.

And they’d simply flowed onto the sketch pad, like wine pouring sweetly from an uncorked bottle.

“Don’t you want to try it on?” she asked a still stunned Corinne.

“Do I ever,” the woman breathed.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Ada prodded. “Don’t start crying now, because then I’ll start too and I’m too old to cry.”

Corinne turned to Josy, still holding the dress. She hugged her and whispered, “I can’t thank you enough. You’re like . . . my fairy godmother.”

Josy laughed. “Try it on, Cinderella, and see how you like it before you thank me. Maybe you’ll hate it.”

But Corinne didn’t hate it. She loved it, loved the way it fit her curves, hugged her breasts, the way it shimmered and moved with her when she walked or turned.

The gown needed only a final adjustment here and there. “I’ll finish this up in two seconds tonight and bring it over to Roy’s place for you tomorrow,” Josy said.

She didn’t mention that the next day she’d be disappearing from Thunder Creek, on her way to meeting Ricky. When that meeting was over, when the diamond was safely out of her hands, and Ricky told her it was safe to go home, she would be ready to leave Thunder Creek.

And a good thing too, she told herself. Her money was running low. She needed to get some sketches to Francesca.

And she had a life waiting for her in New York.

She glanced at Ada, her sweet lined face filled with pleasure as Corinne posed and twirled in the gown. Her heart ached suddenly. There was so much about Ada she still didn’t know, had never had the chance to ask. And now she never would. She thought of Corinne’s wedding, of missing it.

And then Ty Barclay’s blue eyes and lean jaw swam into her mind.

She had so much unfinished business here.

But maybe it was best left unfinished. She sighed, not quite willing to explore why that idea made her unhappy.

“After tomorrow,” she said as brightly as she could, “you’re going to be good to go. Right down the aisle.”

“Wait until Roy’s family gets a load of this dress.” Corinne struck a dramatic fashion pose. “Not that I need to impress them or anything,” she added hurriedly, “but I sure won’t feel like a freak who’s getting married in a short, tight navy suit. I’ll feel like a fricking princess!”

After Corinne changed out of the gown and left to meet with Roy and the minister, Ada poured two glasses of lemonade and handed one of them to Josy.

“You’re a very talented young woman,” she told her. “I can imagine what kind of marvels you do as a decorator. Hmmm, now. I wonder how you’d spruce up my old place if you put your mind to it?”

“This house?” Josy shook her head. She took a moment to answer, taking in all the little knicknacks on the coffee table, the rose-patterned rug, the fresh crisp white curtains. She glanced at the faded needlepoint cushions on the chairs, the stately oak grandfather clock near the staircase in the hall.

“I wouldn’t change a thing.” A lump rose in her throat. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a homier, cozier house in my life. It’s perfect.”

“Hah, you don’t know about the leaky roof I just had fixed last year, or the threadbare carpet in the upstairs hall. There’s always something to do in an old house.” Ada set down her glass of lemonade on a lace coaster.

“What was your home like when you were growing up?” she asked.

“I don’t remember much about my home with my parents before they died,” Josy said slowly. She searched her memory, trying to see past the foggy brown veil of the past. “I remember my mother played the piano, and my father . . . he would sing. Off-key. It made her laugh. And I begged her to teach me how to play, and she did. When I was around six I learned ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’ and ‘Row Row Row Your Boat’—but then I lost interest. As children do,” she added.

“So you had a piano,” Ada prompted.

“Yes—and my bedroom had a cabbage rose comforter and matching curtains.”

“Oh, that sounds nice. So cheerful and feminine.”

A memory returned to Josy, one she hadn’t thought about for years. “When I was about to turn twelve, though, I decided I wanted something more grown-up— fit for a teenager. I had my eye on a striped comforter and tons of throw pillows in red and black and purple . . .” She broke off. “But I never got it.”

“Why was that?”

“My parents died in a car accident. And I . . .”

“You what, dear?” Ada was watching her, her eyes keen, despite their faded color.

“I . . .” Josy spoke slowly, her gaze still locked on Ada’s face. “I was placed in foster care.”

There was a silence. Ada nodded, her face oddly still and suddenly looking pale, but in her eyes Josy saw a sheen of sympathy.

“And was it . . . very bad?”

“I got through it.”

“You certainly did, child. You’re a beautiful, talented young woman. Even in the short time you’ve been here, folks in Thunder Creek have taken to you, some of us even feel like you’ve been here all your life. Which,” she added softly, “you should have been.”

“I . . . what?”

“You should have been here all your life.” Ada’s voice was low. “Since the time your parents died.” She reached out a tiny, blue-veined hand toward Josy, then let it drop into her own lap with a grimace.

“You should have been living in this house with me. I am your grandmother, after all.”

Ada’s expression was calm as Josy’s gaze flew to her face in shock.

Ada nodded. “Yes, child. I know.” Her voice was quiet, almost matter-of-fact. “I’ve known since you first arrived. You’re my granddaughter. Isn’t that what you came to Thunder Creek to tell me?”

Chapter 16

CHANCE ROPER THREW SOME MORE WOOD ON the campfire and winked at the bright-eyed brunette in the tightest blue jeans he’d ever seen.

“If you think this is a pretty view, wait until the stars pop out in the sky,” he told Shannon Monroe, the twenty-nine-year-old advertising executive who, along with two other young women from her San Francisco firm, was dude ranching it for the very first time.

“I can hardly wait.” Shannon slanted him a smile as she added a few twigs to the fire. The three other Crystal Horseshoe hands escorting the party of twenty guests up Cougar Mountain were all busy setting up for the barbecue and seeing to the horses, while Cooky unloaded pots and skillets and equipment from the Crystal Horseshoe van, a literal kitchen on wheels.

“Save me a seat by the campfire, will you, darlin’?” Chance said softly, and her gorgeous brown eyes lit up.

“If you promise to roast me a marshmallow.”

“Honey, I promise to do a whole lot more than that for you tonight.” He winked at her, then laughed. “Be right back, ladies,” he called more loudly to Marisa and Julie, Shannon’s traveling companions, as he strode over to where the twelve-year-old Adams twins were scrambling up rocks, trying to get a closer look at some mule deer perched on a ledge high above the camp.

“Hold on, guys. Don’t climb too high or we’ll have to send out a rescue posse.” At the sound of Chance’s voice, Dale and Seth Adams both turned back, grinning.

“Are there mountain lions up here?”

“Might be.”

“Is that why you’ve got a rifle in your pack?”

“Yep. You never know, we could meet up with a big cat, a grizzly, a snake, anything. Hey, your mom’s waving at you. Better hustle over there and see what she wants.”

As the twins ran off, Chance strode past the other families, couples, and the clusters of single women who were all busy enjoying the view and munching on the bags of trail mix that Slim was handing out. He passed the grazing horses and slipped down a path winding behind a boulder.

He walked about fifty feet down, out of sight and out of earshot, then punched buttons on his cell phone.

“Are we a go for tonight?” He spoke in a low tone, scanning the trail to make sure he hadn’t been followed.

Denny Owens’s voice rasped in his ear. “Damn straight. Midnight. You know the place.”

“Have you thought about what I said? Asking for a bigger piece of the pie?”

“Me and Fred talked it over. But if we even mention something like that to the boss, he’s likely going to shoot us right where we stand.”

“Hey, we’re the ones out here taking the risks,” Chance argued. “He’s cleaning up and we’re doing all the work. Those quarter horses we’re after tonight are some of the sweetest pieces of horseflesh I’ve even seen. They’re worth ten grand easy. Now you tell me why we should even give him a cut—he’s not out there with his butt on the line.”

“Hold on.”

Chance heard Denny repeating what he’d said to Fred Barnes. Then he came back on the line. “The boss is the one who owns the trucks and the horse trailers. He’s got the buyers, the connections.”

“That doesn’t entitle him to a full fifty percent of our haul. Look, if you’re afraid to deal with him, set up a meeting for me.” Chance tightened his grip on the phone. “I’ll talk to him. I’m telling you, we can do a hell of a lot better than this.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t know the boss. He’s not the negotiating type.”

“Introduce me. I am. I’ll cut us a much sweeter deal,” Chance assured him.

“Yeah? Well . . .” Denny sounded almost convinced. “We sure as hell are due for a raise. Listen, let us think about it some more and we’ll talk strategy tonight when we meet up.”

Denny disconnected. Chance clipped his phone back in his belt.

As he headed back up to the camp, where Sonny had begun to twang out a tune on his guitar, he smiled to himself. The way he figured it, he’d have plenty of time to rustle up some action with Shannon Monroe before he left to rustle Tammie and Wood Morgan’s brand-new herd of quarter horses.

Shannon wasn’t quite as gorgeous as Josy Warner, but hell, what could he do? Josy had spotted him in Casper with Denny and Fred. That had been a huge mistake, and in his line of work, mistakes could be dangerous.

He’d have to steer clear of Josy for a while—he didn’t want her getting mixed up in this. It was true what they said—business and pleasure don’t mix. And while Josy was definitely a pleasure, his rustling partners were strictly business.

Never the twain shall meet
.

But they nearly had.

He’d have to be more careful. And cool it with Josy.

Besides, she’d told him she wanted to be just friends and so far, she’d stuck to it. Shannon Monroe sent out a whole different vibe.

Chance whistled as he tramped back up the path. Aside from that one near run-in with Josy in Casper, things had been going smooth as silk.

And soon he’d have the big boss right where he wanted him. The thought made him smile.

If there was one thing in life that Chance Roper loved, it was that moment of taking total control.

Chapter 17

“HOW COULD YOU KNOW?” JOSY’S CONFUSION showed on her face. “All this time—how could you possibly have known?”

Ada reached out and placed a small hand on Josy’s arm. “The question is . . . were you going to tell me? Were you waiting for the right time? I’m sorry if I spoiled it.”

“No, you didn’t spoil anything. I didn’t know how to tell you . . . or even if I would.”

“I guessed as much.” Ada sighed. Josy caught a flicker of pain in her eyes.

“I was afraid you’d decide not to say a word and you’d pick up and leave before I had a chance to say anything.” Ada looked at her closely. “But you were probably waiting for the right moment.”

“I guess I was. Perhaps I just didn’t know how to say it.” Josy shook her head, still stunned. “But you . . . how did you know? And . . . did you know from the beginning?”

“As soon as I heard your name. Josy Warner.” Ada’s hand fell away. She spoke quietly. “I’d done some research of my own starting about a year ago. I wanted to find my baby girl and see—oh, I don’t know—see how her life turned out, if she was happy.” She took a deep breath. “And I found out she was dead.”

Josy said nothing. She watched Ada, watched her eyes cloud with sorrow, her hands tremble in her lap. Her own heart suddenly felt heavy as a stone.

“I also found out she left a child behind her. My grandchild.
You
.”

There was a silence. Josy couldn’t speak for a moment. She was still digesting the shocking notion that all this time, Ada had known who she was.

“I suppose you have questions.” Her grandmother—
her grandmother
—must have read her mind.

“Such as . . . why I gave my baby away. What would possess me to do something like that? A woman giving up her own child. Part of herself.”

Ada sounded so heavy-hearted. Almost as if she were angry with herself. After all these years?

“I didn’t want to. Lord knows, I wanted that baby . . . your mother, Josy. I wanted her with all my heart. But I knew from the start they would make me give her up. And that’s what happened.”

Ada’s voice was so low Josy had to lean closer to hear her.

“They let me hold her . . . once. Just once. And then they took her away.”

She blinked back the sheen of tears and faced Josy suddenly, her eyes filled with determination. “Let me tell you why it happened. And all about your grandfather. Your birth grandfather wasn’t my husband, Guy Scott, bless his soul. You probably realized when I was talking in the truck who it was.”

Josy moistened her lips. “Cody Shaw.”

Ada nodded. “Cody Shaw,” she repeated, as if saying the name gave her a pleasure she wouldn’t be denied. Her gaze fixed on Josy’s face, studying it intently, her eyes almost hungry. “You have the look of him. I can’t pin it down exactly—he was as male as a man could possibly be—and you are so feminine, but still . . . the graceful way you move, the way you hold your head, maybe the slant of your eyes . . . something about you speaks of Cody. Maybe that’s why I took to you the moment I met you.”

“You knew who I was even then?”

“I told you—yes. Billy helped me do the research on the Internet. He knows all about computers and search engines and such things, like all the young people do nowadays, and he found out all sorts of information. I found out that my baby was dead.”

Ada’s brown eyes filled with unshed tears. She blinked them back. “I was too late, you see. I’d waited all those years . . . never looked for her, never tried to find her . . . and when I did . . . it was too late. She was gone. She and her husband—”

Ada reached out again and this time closed her hand over Josy’s, squeezing tight. “I’m sorry. So sorry you lost them, and that you had no one.” Her voice quavered. “No one at all.”

Josy swallowed. “I managed.”

“Yes, I see that you did. I know that you did. I found out all about you too, with Billy’s help. Not only did I learn that I had a granddaughter living in New York City, but that you were now a grown woman. That you worked at a fancy job. And not as an interior designer,” she said drily. “You’re the assistant to a famous fashion designer. Francesca somebody . . .” She wrinkled her brow.

“I’ve heard the name somewhere, maybe seen it in the papers. But I didn’t care about her. I wanted to know about you. Josy Warner. My Josy Warner.”

Josy sat frozen, unable to speak, unable to move. All this time in Thunder Creek . . . Ada had known. She’d known about Josy even before Josy had begun to search for her.

“I admit to being a bit confused when you said you were an interior designer,” Ada went on, her voice carefully neutral. “I guessed either my research was wrong, or you had a good reason for not saying what you really did for a living . . . or that you lived in New York and not Chicago. That puzzled me at first, let me tell you. But I’ve learned over the years that people usually have good reasons for what they do.”

“You’re right. I . . . I didn’t want to lie, but I felt I had to. It’s complicated.”

“Most things are.” Ada gave her a soft smile. “You don’t owe me any explanations, honey. Lord knows, I owe them to you. I suppose you want to know why I did it. Why I gave your mother away.”

“It sounds like you were in love with Cody Shaw. But . . . he . . . what? Broke your heart?”

“He did—but not like you might think. Not on purpose.”

“But he wouldn’t marry you. In those days, I’m sure single mothers weren’t accepted as much as they are today.”

“Oh, you can sure say that again.” Bitterness glistened in Ada’s eyes. “You’re very right about that . . . but you’re wrong about Cody not wanting to marry me. He might have, or might not—I always wondered—”

“He didn’t know?” Josy stared at her. “You never told him you were pregnant with his child?”

“No. I never did. Let me tell you the reason though. You need to understand your grandfather. You should know about him. I’m sure you’ve wondered.”

“I have wondered. About both of you,” Josy murmured.

Ada fell silent. Outside the window, a meadowlark sang its heart out, even as Josy realized that her grandmother was searching hers—and her memory.

“Cody Shaw,” Ada said at last, a smile touching her faded eyes, “was the handsomest boy I ever did meet. And I met a lot of them. I wasn’t always old and wrinkled and white-haired, you know. I was a pretty thing if I do say so myself and I loved to have fun. I liked to go to dances and rodeos and on picnics—and to meet my young man of the moment up at Shadow Point. That’s where we always used to go to . . . what do young folks call it today? Make out?”

“Hook up,” Josy corrected with a small smile.

“Oh, yes, hook up. I’ve heard Billy say that. Well, my generation probably invented hooking up at Shadow Point. And Cody and I, we did more than our share. It was the happiest time of my life—until, as you say, he broke my heart. You see, he didn’t know I was in love with him . . . or that I was carrying his child.”

She shook her head sadly. “He hadn’t a clue that I was certain he’d want to marry me. He thought I was just having fun, like he was. All fun, that’s what Cody was about. Fun, excitement, passion. He was passionate about life, about whatever he was doing at that moment. And about not getting tied down. Cody wanted to see the world. And I loved him so much, I didn’t want to stand in his way.”

“So you didn’t tell him?”

“Not at first. I thought he’d come back and there’d be time.”

“But he left you.”

Ada’s tone grew quieter. “He meant to come back. His home was in Thunder Creek and he thought he’d be returning once his tour was over. He rode on the rodeo circuit—and he died there too. In Butte, riding some wild bronc. He got thrown and broke his neck when he fell. His family brought him home and we all attended his funeral. Lots of girls were there. All of them weeping. Except me. I couldn’t seem to cry. Maybe the tears were just stuck in my heart,” Ada whispered, sounding as if she were speaking to herself.

She loved him more than she can even say,
Josy realized. The glitter of tears in Ada’s eyes brought a lump to her throat. She was young, pregnant . . . and the man she loved was dead.

“What did you do?” she asked gently.

“What could I do? I went to my mama and I told her the truth. She cried, but I didn’t. I wanted Cody’s baby. My folks, though,” she went on with a grim set to her mouth, “they wouldn’t hear of it. They loved me, true, and they didn’t hold it against me, which was rare in those days. They stood by me, and when I started getting bigger with my child, big enough for folks to realize, they sent me away, supposedly to stay with cousins for a spell, but I was really at the Standish Home for Unwed Mothers in Denver . . .”

Ada looked out the window a moment, her gaze clouded, then turned back to Josy. “It was a decent enough place and they were kind to me there,” she said with a shrug. “The only thing my parents insisted on—for my own good, they said—was that I give the baby up, give her away to a good home with two parents. They said I’d ruin my chances for a decent marriage if I didn’t, that no respectable man would want an unmarried woman who was raising another man’s baby. And in those days, in a small town like this, I guess maybe they were right. It didn’t feel right to me, though. Never did.”

Josy nodded, her throat dry.

“When I saw your mother—Cody Jean, that’s what I named her in my head, you see—I wanted her more than anything I’d ever wanted in my life. I cried when they put her in my arms, and begged them to let me keep her, but my parents wouldn’t give in. They kept insisting . . . and in the end I let her go.”

“You signed the adoption papers?”

“Yes.” The word held a well of sadness and regret. “Did she . . . have a good life with that family that took her? Was she happy?”

“Very happy.” Josy nodded, recalling her mother’s tales of Thanksgiving dinners and bedtime stories, how her father had taught her to play checkers and had never let her win, but when she did beat him on her own, he bought her a giant red lollipop.

“She fared better than you did, I’ll wager,” Ada said slowly. She seemed to shake off the old memories now and her gaze focused on Josy with heightened concern.

“After Cody Jean and your father died in that accident, you were sent to foster care. Foster care,” she said again, the words seeming to roll in dismay on her tongue. “I’ve heard about those places. I can’t picture you there.”

She looked as if she didn’t want to. Josy suddenly didn’t want to tell her. “I managed,” she said again.

Ada’s expression sobered. “So you said. And so I see. But I want to know, Josy. It wasn’t a picnic, was it?”

“No. Not much of one.” She tried to shrug, but Ada wouldn’t let her shrug off the pain.

“I want to hear about your life growing up,” she said. “Whenever you’re ready to tell me. I don’t need it sugar-coated. You’re my blood, honey, and I’m yours. And if I had known what happened, if I had tried to find your mother sooner—I could have taken you in when you needed me, and you might have been spared a life with strangers.”

She clutched Josy’s hand. “I might have been a stranger to you at first too, but not for long. No, I don’t think we would have been strangers for long. But those folks who took you in . . . did they treat you like their own . . . or like a stranger? I have to know.”

Josy swallowed. “There was one home where the lady treated me like her own. Mrs. Palmer. But I was only there a few months, and then she took sick. Cancer. So I was moved. I went to two or three others, but the longest time I spent at any of them was at the Hammond house.” Her mouth tightened. “I always felt like a stranger there.”

“It was bad there, wasn’t it?” Ada’s eyes had grown rounder with a dawning horror. “Oh, you poor child . . .”

“No, no, it wasn’t all bad. I had a friend. A . . . kind of brother—his name was Ricky. He looked after me. Even better, he taught me to look after myself. To stand up for myself.”

“God bless him.” Ada’s hands were trembling now. “I wish I’d known. I wish I’d found you sooner, saved you from growing up with strangers. I wish . . .” She broke off, shook her head ruefully. “A lot of good wishing does at this point.” Her mouth twisted, the age lines at the corners deepening. “I wouldn’t blame you if you hated me.”

“I could never do that.”

Without thinking Josy reached out, clasped Ada’s hand in her own. A rush of warmth surged through her. She didn’t love this woman . . . not yet. She didn’t even feel a true bond. But she felt something. Fondness? Sympathy? They’d both lived their lives apart and would always wonder what it would have been like to have spent them together, as grandmother and granddaughter in Thunder Creek.

A lump rose in her throat. “I have pictures in my apartment in New York. A photo album of my parents, including their wedding picture. Oh, and a small one in my wallet,” she remembered suddenly.

Ada’s eyes brightened. But they looked moist, Josy noticed as she dug in her purse for the wallet-sized laminated photo of her parents on their wedding day.

Ada studied it silently. Finally she spoke. “She was a beautiful woman. Like you.”

“Like you.” Josy smiled. “We came here once, years ago when I was very young.”