The Cowboy (25 page)

“I can take care of things around here all by myself,” Luke insisted.

“The pancakes are burning!” Hannah said agitatedly.

As Luke stacked the pancakes one on top of the other, he said to Eli, “Get me a plate, will you? These things are going to be black on both sides.”

Eli edged past Trace to retrieve a pretty flowered plate from the cupboard and handed it to Luke. Luke stacked the pancakes on it and said, “You and Hannah can start on these.”

“Those are burned,” Eli complained.

Luke glanced sideways at Trace, then back at Eli and hissed, “Just sit down and eat!”

“There’s no silverware on the table,” Eli pointed out.

“Then get some!” Luke said as he dipped batter for four more pancakes onto the smoking skillet.

“I can get it,” Hannah offered. She leaned over and yanked open the silverware drawer, but pulled it out too far. When it came free, silverware clattered to the floor, followed by the drawer itself, which landed with a loud thump.

“Uh-oh.” Hannah quickly climbed down from the chair to gather up the conglomeration of spoons and forks and knives, then glanced at Luke to see his reaction.

“Dammit, Hannah! You know better than that!” Luke yelled.

Hannah let out a wail and burst into tears. She looked
around for a friendly face, but neither her brother nor her uncle offered her any comfort.

Trace held out his arms, and the little girl came running to him. He gathered her up and felt her soft breath against his throat as he patted her on the back. “Don’t worry, Hannah. Eli and Luke will take care of cleaning up everything.”

Luke stared at him, furious and helpless.

Trace gestured Eli toward the silverware on the floor and said, “Help yourself.”

“I don’t need you to tell me what to do!” Eli said.

“Those pancakes might taste better with a little butter and syrup,” Trace suggested.

He could see the two boys were torn. They didn’t want to follow his suggestion, but they certainly didn’t want to eat their pancakes dry, either. Luke decided the matter by crossing to the refrigerator and hauling out some butter on a chipped plate and a plastic container of Aunt Jemima syrup.

“Here,” Luke said to Eli, as he dropped them both on the table.

“Luke,” Trace said.

“What?” Luke retorted.

“Your pancakes are burning.”

“I
DON
’
T UNDERSTAND WHY YOU GANGED UP
with Trace Blackthorne against your own daughter,” Callie said to her mother, feeling confused and surprisingly antagonistic.

“You need the rest,” her mother said reasonably. “And it will give Trace a chance to spend time with his son.”

Callie stared at her mother, her breath caught in her chest. “What makes you think—”

“I can count, Callie.”

“You’re mistaken. I—”

“Nolan told me the truth,” her mother said. “Don’t blame him for giving away your secret, Callie. He had no choice. I thought it was odd that if you got pregnant during the Christmas holiday, your baby should weigh barely six pounds, when it was supposedly three weeks overdue. I speculated that your calculations must have been off, or that there might be something wrong with Eli. Nolan was afraid I would say something to your father, and he knew that would be disastrous.”

Callie sank into the molded plastic chair beside her mother’s bed. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

“I always hoped you’d tell me the truth yourself.”

“Trace and I … I loved him, Mom.” She looked up and was surprised to find tears in her mother’s eyes.

“I thought maybe he didn’t love you enough to marry you when he found out you were pregnant,” her mother said. “But when I see how he looks at you now … What happened, Callie?”

“You’re mistaken about Trace’s feelings for me, Mom. And you know why I couldn’t marry him. Daddy would have disowned me.”

“True. But he couldn’t have stopped you. Not if you really wanted to marry Trace.”

“With Sam stuck in a wheelchair, you needed me at home.”

“Also true. We might very well have lost Three Oaks without your help.” Her mother’s eyes focused on her hands, which were knotted in her lap. She glanced up at Callie and asked, “Do you regret the choice you made?”

Callie was startled by the question. “You’re the one who taught me about sacrifice. I learned it at your knee. How could I not stay and help?”

“You haven’t answered my question. Do you regret the choice you made?”

Callie’s throat had swollen until it hurt to swallow. “Yes.”

She hadn’t realized she was going to admit such a thing until the word was spoken. She saw the pain in her mother’s eyes.

“I know how that feels,” her mother said quietly.

Callie went perfectly still. She was afraid to ask what her mother meant. She was afraid she already knew.

“Your father was right to be jealous.”

“I don’t want to hear this,” Callie said, rising in agitation. “Don’t tell me you didn’t love Daddy. I won’t believe you!”

“I loved him,” her mother said. “I was never ‘in love’ with him. I didn’t know what it meant to be ‘in love’ until it was too late.”

“I told you I don’t want to hear this!” Callie said, heading for the door.

“I was already pregnant with you when I realized I was in love with Jackson Blackthorne.”

Callie stopped, the doorknob in her hand. She leaned her forehead against the cool wood. “Oh, Mom.”

“I had to decide whether to take you away from your father, and let a man he hated raise his child. Or stay with your father, and give up the man I had come to love more than life itself. I made the sacrifice, Callie. I did the right thing. As you did, when the time came for you to make a choice. You chose to help your family, because we needed you, rather than steal away with the man you loved.”

Callie whirled and confronted her mother. “Are you telling me I made the wrong choice?”

Her mother stared back at her soberly. “What do you think?”

“You and Daddy had a good life together. Nolan and I had a wonderful marriage.”

“But something was always missing between you and Nolan, wasn’t it?”

Callie didn’t know how her mother could be so perceptive. Unless she had experienced the same yearning for what had been lost. It hurt to think of her parents’ marriage as anything less than perfect, even though she’d
known for a long time that things weren’t right between them.

“At least Trace came back for you,” her mother said.

“He came back because his father had a heart attack and needed him to manage the ranch.”

Her mother shook her head. “Trace could have left weeks ago. Why do you think he’s still here, Callie?”

“How should I know?”

“What if you had a second chance? Would you make the same choice?” her mother asked.

“Are you telling me you don’t need me anymore? Are you telling me you can manage Three Oaks without me, if I were to leave?”

“I don’t know,” her mother said. “We’d certainly struggle without you. We might even lose Three Oaks. But things have changed. The ranch doesn’t mean as much to me as it did to your father.”

“I can’t believe you’re saying these things! Three Oaks has been paid for with the blood and bone of Creeds for generations. We’d be losing a piece of ourselves if we gave it up!”

“Then I guess you have your answer,” her mother said. “You would still make the sacrifice.”

Callie frowned. “There’s no sacrifice to be made. Trace doesn’t love me anymore.”

“Do you love him?” her mother asked.

Callie avoided the question. “What difference does it make how I feel?”

“What about Eli?” her mother asked. “Are you going to tell Trace he has a son.”

“I can’t. He might try to get custody of Eli, if he knew the truth.”

“That’s too bad,” her mother said. “A boy needs his father.”

“Eli had a father!” Callie snapped. “His father died.”

“Trace and Eli are the same blood and bone. If you love Trace, you’d be a fool to give him up again. Talk to him. Maybe you two can work things out.”

“You’re being ridiculous, Mom. I can’t go back.”

“No, but you can move forward.”

Callie stared at her mother, her heart pounding, her hands knotted. “I need to go check on Sam,” she said abruptly.

Callie pulled open the door and headed down the hall toward the elevator.

She was having trouble digesting everything her mother had said. How could she even talk about moving forward, when the cost of doing so might be the loss of Three Oaks? It was frightening to think her mother didn’t feel as strongly about keeping the ranch as Callie did. What if her mother sold Three Oaks to Blackjack? She wouldn’t dare! Not after the fight her father had waged against his mortal enemy. Callie would never allow that to happen. Three Oaks belonged to the Creeds. She would never give it up.

She checked with the reception desk on the main floor to find out which room was Sam’s, then headed toward the elevator.

“Visiting hours—”

That was all Callie heard before the elevator doors closed behind her. She had to stop herself from running down the fourth floor hall, and she anxiously shoved open the door to Sam’s room, wishing she could talk to her
brother about the things her mother had said. But the days when she and Sam had been confidantes were long past.

Her brother was hooked up to a monitor that beeped slowly and steadily. Callie had never heard a more beautiful sound. She crossed to the bed and looked down at Sam. His eyes were closed, his lashes dark against his pale cheeks. She hadn’t been there a full minute before the door opened and a doctor came in. He didn’t seem at all surprised to find her there, and she realized the nurse downstairs must have paged him.

“I’m Callie Creed Monroe. How is my brother?”

“He had a narrow escape,” the doctor said. “If you hadn’t found him when you did, he wouldn’t have made it.”

Callie swallowed hard. She grabbed the bedrail to steady herself.

“Are you all right?” the doctor asked.

“I’m fine. How soon before Sam can come home?”

“I’d like to do a few tests to see what shape his liver and kidneys are in.”

“Is there something wrong with them?”

Rather than answer, the doctor asked, “How much alcohol would you say your brother consumes in a twenty-four-hour period?”

Callie hesitated, then realized this was a time when honesty was required. “I’m not really sure. He used to have a couple of shots in the evening, but lately … it’s been a great deal more.”

“He has to stop drinking, or he’s going to kill himself.”

Callie eyed the doctor bleakly.

“Have you thought about AA?”

“I don’t think Sam would go,” Callie said.

“Have you talked to him about it?”

Callie was ashamed to admit that she hadn’t confronted Sam about his drinking in a long time. She used to complain when he didn’t get the bills paid on time, but it had been easier to take the burden on herself than to keep after him to do it. She had been too consumed by everything else that had to be done to worry about Sam’s drinking problem.

She looked at her brother and saw a man she didn’t know. His cheeks were sunken, and there were bags of dissipation under his eyes. His hair badly needed a cut, and he hadn’t shaved for days. Callie felt helpless to help him, too overwhelmed by all the other responsibilities in her life to add one more. She felt the knot of despair growing in her throat. Sam’s face began to blur from the tears welling in her eyes.

“I’ll speak to him when he wakes up,” she told the doctor. “Is it all right if I sit with him for a while?”

“Sure. I’ll tell the nurse I said it was okay.”

Callie stood beside Sam’s bed after the doctor had left, staring at her brother. She took a deep breath and let it out. She could handle this. She could handle anything. She always had. She wasn’t going to fall apart now.

She brushed the brown curls from Sam’s brow. “But you’re going to have to do your part, Sam,” she whispered, as she bent and pressed a kiss to his brow.

“How is he?”

Callie turned to find Trace in the doorway. “The doctor says he’s going to make it.”

“Good. Are you ready to go?”

“I think I should go home to Three Oaks,” she said.

He didn’t argue, simply walked over, scooped her up in his arms, and headed for the open doorway. “You’ll thank me for this later,” he said.

Callie was too tired to struggle. Besides, she needed peace and quiet to think about everything her mother had told her. To consider what to do about Sam. To consider how to save Three Oaks from the wiley Blackthornes.

“How are the kids?” she asked, surprising herself with a yawn.

“Hannah and I made blueberry pancakes for supper—with only fifteen servings of PAM.”

Callie smiled. “Good for you. Did Luke get home? Did he give you any trouble?”

“He was upset, but he got over it,” Trace reassured her. “We were both glad when Rosalita showed up. We were about to flip a coin to see who washed the dishes.”

Callie laughed, something she hadn’t thought she’d be able to do after everything that had happened. “Oh, Trace. You’re good for me.”