The Cowboy's Return (6 page)

“And you, Jilly?”

“I’ll help,” she replied. “I’ll leave Button with you, Mrs. Daniels.”

“Why does she get to keep the dog?” Grif wanted to know. “She can barely see.”

“That’s not nice, Mr. Daniels,” Jilly scolded.

“At my age, girlie, I don’t have to be nice.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Aw,” Grif scoffed.

“You can sit by Mrs. Daniels and you both can watch Button.”

“I don’t like it over there.”

Jilly reached for his elbow. “Come on. I’ll help you.”

Tripp watched in astonishment as his father got to his feet and moved across the room with Jilly holding onto his arm. Once he was settled next to his wife, he reached for the dog.

“You have to be nice,” Jilly reminded him.

“He doesn’t know the meaning of the word,” Leona said.

“I haven’t been this close to you in years, Leona, so be careful, I might bite you.”

Jilly giggled and his father smiled, something he rarely did. A miracle was unfolding before Tripp and he just watched the wonderful sight.

“I’ll be right back,” Jilly said, and followed Tripp into the kitchen. Morris was sitting at the table knitting.

“Hi, Morris,” Jilly said.

“Ah, hi.” Surprise filtered across his face.

“I’m Jilly Walker, remember? I sometimes help you put groceries in your car when you’re shopping.”

“Yes. I know.” The surprise was still imprinted on his face and Tripp realized that Morris knew about Jilly. Probably knew a lot more, too.

“We’re fixing tea and coffee for Mom and Dad,” Tripp explained. “What would you like, Jilly?”

“Water, please. Mama doesn’t want me to drink a lot of soft drinks.”

Tripp wondered if Camila knew Jilly was here. He’d deal with that later. He placed everything on a tray.

“I’ll carry it,” Jilly offered.

He hesitated for a moment then let her carry the tray. Morris watched with a lifted brow as they left.

Jilly set the tray on the coffee table. “What would you like in your coffee, Mr. Daniels?”

“Black as sin.”

Jilly grinned and handed him a mug. “Mrs. Daniels, what would you like in your tea?”

“Just a little honey, please.”

Jilly stirred in the honey and held the cup out to Leona. When Leona didn’t take it, Jilly took her hand and guided it to the cup.

“Oh, thank you.”

Jilly sat cross-legged on the floor and Button jumped into her lap and curled into a ball. Tripp sat in a chair, watching, drinking a cup of coffee.

“What grade are you in?” Grif asked.

“Sixth,” Jilly replied. “And I make all A’s. I’m on the honor roll. I’m going to be a doctor.”

“That’s a mighty big ambition—and expensive.”

“My mama started saving for my college education when I was born. She puts money in the account every month.”

“Very wise,” Grif murmured.

“And when I work, I put money in the account, too.”

“You work?” Leona asked in shock.

“I help at my mama’s store and she pays me.”

“Do you work a lot?” Leona took a sip of tea.

“Only when my mama lets me. She works real hard and I help out all I can, but my schoolwork has to be done first.”

“I see,” Grif said and handed Jilly his mug.

Everyone was quiet for a while, then Grif asked, “Jilly, why did you come here today?”

Tripp was immediately on his feet. His one goal was to get Jilly out of the room before his father could say anything hateful or hurtful, but Jilly started talking and he listened like his mother and father did.

“Well, I used to see you in town a lot, but now I only see Morris. I thought you might be sick or something, but I never came out here to check because…” She trailed her fingers across Button’s back. “Well, I know you’re my grandparents, but I also know you don’t believe that. That’s okay, ’cause I believe. My mama doesn’t lie.”

Complete silence followed that statement.

“When I saw Tripp’s picture in the paper, I came out here,” Jilly continued. “People say that Tripp and Patrick favor and I wanted to see, but when I arrived I got scared and told him who I was and quickly left. My mama didn’t know where I was and I didn’t want to upset her.”

“You’ve been here before?” Leona asked.

“Just that one time.”

“So you believe you’re Patrick’s daughter?” Grif was stuck on that question.

Jilly turned to Grif. “Yes, sir. I not only believe. I know it.”

“Because your mother told you and she doesn’t lie.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you have any proof?”

Jilly got to her feet, clutching Button, her chin jutting out. “My mama’s word.”

“I’m afraid that’s not enough for me,” Grif said. “You came for money, didn’t you?”

“Dad,” Tripp reprimanded.

“No, sir, I didn’t come for money. I don’t need or want it and my mama wouldn’t allow it anyway.” Jilly gripped Button tighter. “My mama has always said that Patrick was soft-hearted and kind and I guess I came here to feel a part of that—to feel a part of my father. I won’t bother you again.” She bolted from the room.

“Jilly.” Tripp went after her, but Jilly was already on her bike pedaling furiously for Bramble.

Damn. Damn. Damn.

Tripp slammed the door a little harder than he should have and went back into the den. His parents were arguing.

“You didn’t have to be so blunt,” his mother was saying.

“Sometimes you have to be to get results.”

“She’s just a child.”

“I agree with Mom,” Tripp said. “You were way out of line, Dad. There was no need to hurt Jilly like that.”

“They’re after our money, son. Can’t you see that?”

“Money?” Tripp choked out. “Have you checked your accounts lately? There’s very little money left. Take a good look around you—the place is falling apart, the pool is covered with algae, as is the pond out front. The pastures are overgrown and unkempt and there’s not much here to make a person think you have money. Jilly Walker just wanted to feel a connection to her father. That’s it—no ulterior motive.”

Neither had a word to say.

“I’m going after her to try and apologize. I’ll be back later.”

Tripp caught up with Jilly. He pulled the truck ahead of her, stopped and got out.

Jilly stopped, too, and her dark eyes were wet. He cursed himself for letting the situation get out of hand.

Button was in the basket and she raised up and barked, her ears pointed, as if sensing Jilly’s distress. Jilly patted the dog and looked at Tripp. “What do you want?”

“Thought I’d give you a ride into town.”

“I don’t accept rides from strangers.”

Tripp drew a deep breath. “I’m not a stranger. I’m your uncle.” At first, he’d been as stubborn as his father, but now he believed what he was saying.

Her bottom lip trembled and she caught it with her teeth.

“Come on, Jilly. Let me take you home to your mama.”

That seemed to be the magic word. Jilly got off the bike and scooped Button into her arms. He lifted the bike into the bed of the truck and they climbed inside.

As they drove into Bramble, Jilly asked, “Do you really mean what you said?”

“Yes, Jilly. I believe you’re Patrick’s daughter.”

“My mama’s a good woman and she’s kind and helps everybody and—”

“Just give my parents time,” he interrupted, seeing how hurt she was. “Patrick’s death shattered both of them and they haven’t been the same since.”

Her head was bent and she didn’t say anything.

“Remember you said you knew about old people.” He was trying to get her to talk.

“Yeah. But I didn’t think it would hurt this much.”

“I’m so sorry, Jilly.”

She looked at him, her eyes clouded with tears, and he just wanted to make her pain go away. He was searching for the magic words when she spoke up.

“I like you. I think I’ll call you Tripp.”

“That would make me happy.”

“But I’m not going back to see my grandparents.”

“That’s your decision.”

He was hoping to change her mind, though. A few days ago, he’d been acting and thinking like his parents and, in time, he was hoping his father would change his mind, too. He felt his mother was already willing to accept Jilly.

But accepting Camila was another story.

♦ ♦ ♦

C
AMILA GLANCED
at the clock and saw it was almost five. It would be dark soon and Jilly should have been back by now. She went into the coffee shop.

“Millie, Jilly’s not answering my cell. I’m going home and if Jilly’s not there in a few minutes, I’m going after her.”

“Okay, sweetie. If you need any help, just call me.”

Camila rushed home to an empty house and she felt empty inside. She ran her hands up her arms, her skin feeling sensitive and raw. She shouldn’t have let Jilly go. It was too painful. She kept rubbing her arms, trying to dispel the feelings of the past. It was like a rash all over her body and the more she scratched it, the worse it became. And it was contagious. It had spread to Jilly.

All these years she’d protected Jilly, but now she felt so helpless. She couldn’t just sit here. She had to do something. She grabbed her purse, then heard a noise. Glancing out the window, she saw Tripp’s truck.

Oh my God. What had happened?

She dashed outside.

Jilly tore around the truck and into her arms. Camila held her tight and Button squealed between them. She eased her hold and kissed Jilly’s forehead, her hair. “It’s okay, baby. You’re home.”

Jilly darted into the house and Camila’s protective instinct was to follow her, but first she had to deal with Tripp.

“What happened?” she asked in a cold voice.

Tripp set Jilly’s bike against the garage and let out a long breath. “My father told her he didn’t believe Patrick was her father.”

She fought the rage ballooning inside her and turned away, but Tripp caught her arm.

She stared down at the fingers wrapped around her. “Let go of me.”

His hand immediately fell to his side. “I’m sorry. I just want to talk to you.”

“I have nothing to say to you or your family. Stay away from me and stay away from
my
daughter.”

She ran after Jilly.

♦ ♦ ♦

C
AMILA FOUND
J
ILLY
in her bedroom, lying on the bed crying. Camila’s heart broke and she sat down and took her in her arms. “Tell me what happened.”

“He said Patrick wasn’t my father,” Jilly blubbered into her chest.

“Griffin?”

“Uh-huh.”

Camila stroked her hair, which had come out of its ponytail. “I tried to prepare you for this.”

Jilly raised her tearstained face. “I know, Mama, but it’s okay. Now I won’t worry about them.”

She held Jilly’s face with both hands. “Do you think that’s possible?”

Jilly frowned. “Why do I worry so much about people?”

“Because you’re you.” Camila smiled. “Why don’t we make spaghetti for supper and I’ll call Betty Sue and see if Kerri can come over.”

Jilly wiped at her eyes. “But I’m not supposed to see her except in school.”

“Mmm.” Camila gave it some thought. “That does present a problem, but since I’m in charge and I feel you’ve been punished enough, I say you’re not grounded anymore.”

“You’re wonderful, Mama.”

“I’ll run out and get a movie and make popcorn and you and Kerri can have a fun evening.”

“What will you do, Mama?”

“Oh, after supper, I’ll pull the orders off the computer and fill them.”

“But it’s Saturday night. You shouldn’t be working.”

“I’ll just be getting a jump start on Monday.”

“But, Mama…”

“I’ll go call Betty Sue.” She stopped at the door. “Why didn’t you answer the cell phone?”

“It didn’t ring.” Jilly fished it out of her pocket. “Oops. It’s turned off.”

Camila shook her head, walking out. She stopped for a moment. Tears stung her eyes and nausea churned in her stomach. What she’d worked so hard to prevent was happening—Jilly was being hurt. She shouldn’t have let her visit the Danielses’.

But Camila knew that wasn’t the answer. Jilly had wanted to meet her grandparents and there was no way to stop that. It wasn’t easy watching her child go through this.

♦ ♦ ♦

T
RIPP WASN’T SURE
what to do so he left—for now. He’d give Camila time to cool off then he’d try to talk to her again. He’d apologize to Jilly again, too.

He passed the Hitchin’ Post, a beer joint, on the outskirts of town. Earl Boggs’s truck was parked in front, so Tripp stopped and went back. He was in a mood to talk to Earl.

Inside, country music played loudly, smoke filled the room, and men sat at various tables and at the bar. He spotted Earl immediately at a table with his brother, Bert, and two of Earl’s sons, Wallis and Otis. Tripp walked over.

“Howdy,” he said.

“Tripp.” Bert nodded, shaking his hand. “How are your folks?”

“They’re doing fine.” He glanced at Earl. “Could I speak with you?”

“Sure, boy, but I’m comfortable right here so say what you have to. Dorie,” he shouted to the waitress, “bring another beer.”

“No, thanks. I’m not staying. I just wanted to talk to you about the lease you have with my dad.”

Earl’s eyes narrowed. “What about it?”

“I can’t find a copy. Do you have one?”

“A copy.” Earl laughed. “Hell, boy, your dad and me did business the old-fashioned way—with our word.”

“I can’t find any lease deposits either.”

“I always pay cash.”

“There aren’t any cash deposits.”

Earl’s chair scraped against the wood floor as he pushed to his feet. Tall and slightly balding, Earl had a beer gut that hung over his belt. “Are you saying I’m not paying Grif?”

“I’m saying I want to see some evidence.”

“Everyone calm down,” Bert said.

“Stay out of this, Bert,” Earl snapped and swung his gaze to Tripp. “A big rodeo star, huh? You think you can come in here and flex your muscle. That’s bullshit. This is Bramble not Vegas and I don’t give a rat’s ass what you want to see.”

The words were slurred and Tripp knew Earl had had too much to drink, but it didn’t stop him.

“Get your cattle off my property.”

“Go to hell.”

Tripp nodded. “Fine. I’ll just round ’em up and sell ’em at the auction. I believe that’s on Wednesdays.” He leaned in closer. “You see, that’s what I learned in my rodeo days—how to round up cattle real good.” He turned and walked out.

“You bastard. I’ll call the sheriff.”

“Go ahead,” Tripp shouted over his shoulder.

Inside his truck, he had to take a couple of deep breaths. He couldn’t go home. He was too wound up. As angry as he was, though, all he could see was Jilly’s hurt face.

And Camila’s.

♦ ♦ ♦

T
HE GIRLS WERE
in the living room eating popcorn and watching a Harry Potter movie that they had seen at least twice. Camila glanced in and saw them do a high five, bump their butts together and do a happy dance. Obviously they liked something in the movie. Jilly was smiling and happy again and that’s what mattered to Camila.

She headed for the garage. She’d pulled the orders from the computer and printed the labels earlier. If everything went smoothly, she’d have them finished by midnight then she’d have plenty of time to take Jilly to her basketball game on Tuesday.

A covered walkway connected the house to the detached two-car garage. Camila hurried to the storage shed where she stored the wrapped and labeled soap in plastic containers. In the early days, she’d made the soap at home so she didn’t have to leave Jilly. When Jilly had started school, she’d made it in the back room of the shop, but she still did a lot of the packing and mailing from home. That way, she was close if Jilly needed her.

She worked on, trying not to think about the Danielses.

Or Tripp.

♦ ♦ ♦

T
HE LAST ORDER PACKAGED
, Camila stacked the boxes neatly on the table, then went into the house to check on the girls. She pulled her coat around herself. The temperature had been in the fifties and sixties all week—mild for February. Now it had to be in the forties. She was glad she’d lit Unie’s heater earlier. That way she knew she was warm. Since the gas company had turned off her gas, Unie had a hard time understanding it was now on again.

Jilly and Kerri were asleep on the floor. Camila turned off the TV and gently woke them. “Time for bed.”

They staggered to Jilly’s room in their big T-shirts and crawled into bed like zombies. They wouldn’t remember this in the morning. It reminded Camila of when Jilly was smaller and would fall asleep in the car or on the sofa. She’d never remembered anything. She’d been just a baby—and to Camila, she still was.

She rushed back to the garage to finish up.

“Camila.”

She swung toward the voice, knocking over a stack of boxes.

“I’m sorry,” Tripp said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“What are you doing here?” she asked, bending to gather the scattered boxes.

Tripp didn’t answer. Instead, he squatted and helped. Their hands touched and fire shot up her arm. She jerked back. “Go away and leave us alone.” She stood and placed the boxes on the table.

“We have to talk,” he said.

“About what?” she asked, unable to keep her anger under control. “My past? My many affairs? My lurid lifestyle?”

“You’re angry,” he said, unnecessarily.

“Yes. I get angry when someone hurts my child.”

“I’m sorry about that. When she showed up, I wasn’t sure what to do. But things were going really well. They were talking about Button, about school, then…”

The sincerity in his voice got to her and some of the anger began to dissipate. Standing just inside the garage with the light behind him, he was a silhouette in a lined denim jacket, hat, snug jeans and cowboy boots. She’d seen him like this a million times in her dreams and in her foolish, girlish fantasies. But this wasn’t a dream or a fantasy. He was so real it took her breath away.

“My parents have deteriorated since Patrick’s death. They don’t have any interests and it’s like they’re marking time. When Jilly showed up that first time, I was impressed with her spirit. She’s like a ray of sunshine. Actually, I think she has a halo around her head. That’s what gave me the nerve to come and see you. If Jilly could affect me that way, I was hoping she could do the same for my parents.”

“You were nervous about seeing me?” She couldn’t quite believe that.

“Yes, I mean, you have to have a lot of nerve to ask a woman who’s the father of her child. I apologize again for being so rude.”

“If you had asked nicely, I would have told you. But you used a tone similar to several people in this town—as if I might not know who the father was.”

He winced. “Was I that rude?”

“Yes.”

“I’m usually not that inconsiderate. People have told me that I’m quite nice.”

Oh, yes, he’d been nice and everything she’d ever dreamed about. But that dream had turned into a nightmare and…

“Are these boxes to mail?” He looked at the boxes stacked on the table.

“Ah…yes. I was going to load them in the Suburban.”

“I’ll help you.”

“No. I don’t need…” Her words fell on deaf ears. Tripp had already gathered several boxes and was strolling to the vehicle. She unlocked the back and he placed them inside.