The Marriage Pact (Hqn) (24 page)

All these things reverberated between Tripp’s brain and his heart for the next couple of hours, while he and Hadleigh rode, following the creek for a ways, splashing across at a shallow place, cutting through tall but rapidly dying grass to check out the new hayshed.

Recently finished, the structure was sturdy, filled to the rafters with prickly, fresh-smelling bales. Hadleigh was beside him on Sunset, easy in the saddle now that she’d had a chance to reacquaint herself with the nuances of riding. Tripp adjusted his hat, admiring the workmanship, knowing the shed was built to hold up against fierce rainstorms, heavy snows, muddy springs and tinder-dry summers, standing the test of time.

He wanted the life he meant to share with Hadleigh to be that strong, or even stronger, and he wouldn’t settle for less.

Slow and easy, Cowboy,
Tripp reminded himself, watching his woman out of the corner of his eye and thinking heaven itself couldn’t have been any more beautiful than she was.
You’ve got to get this right.

Chapter Thirteen

T
WO
THINGS
HAPPENED
the following Saturday morning—Tripp bought 150 head of Hereford cattle from a neighbor and old friend, and Jim showed up, riding shotgun in his lady-love Pauline’s long, shiny RV. Pauline had flaming red hair and a smile Tripp could see even through the windshield.

When the RV horn bleated cheerfully, Ridley low-bellied it under Tripp’s truck, and every horse in the pasture spooked, kicking and sidestepping and whinnying like crazy. There was a comical, circuslike aspect to the scene.

Tripp, working with the still unnamed chestnut gelding in the corral—the animal was a mite skittish around a saddle and bridle—paused to take this all in. He’d known about Pauline, known about the RV, too, of course, as well as the couple’s plans to get married and then hit the road for an indeterminate length of time. What he
hadn’t
known was exactly when he’d run smack into the reality of his stepdad’s new life.

He wasn’t too sure, since he hadn’t kept track, but it seemed to Tripp that they must have abandoned the cruise ship early. Perhaps, in their eagerness, he thought whimsically, they’d just jumped overboard and
swum
back to Seattle.

With a grin and a shake of his head, Tripp gave up trying to saddle the gelding and left the critter to its own devices there in the corral. With the bridle draped over one shoulder, he hauled the saddle and blanket over to the fence, rested them on the top rail, along with the bridle, and climbed over. The RV, well kept but certainly not new, shut down with an audible cough and a few rattles.

The doors on either side swung open simultaneously, and Jim bounded out on the passenger side, looking twenty years younger than when he’d left for the cruise, while Pauline stepped down from the driver’s side, making use of the running board along the way.

Probably in her fifties, the lady had, as Tripp had already noticed, the kind of smile that makes a man take notice. And her body wasn’t bad, either, come to think of it.

Clad in jeans, fancy sandals and an oversize white shirt with the tails tied into a knot at her waist, Pauline beamed at Tripp, clearly expecting a welcome.

Jim came around the front of the RV and slid an arm around Pauline’s middle. His grin was wider than the Bliss River at flood tide, and his eyes shone with merriment and well-being.

“This is Pauline,” he told Tripp proudly.

Tripp nodded. “So I figured,” he said. If Jim was happy, he was happy; he’d decided that a few days back, after the background check he’d hired his air force buddy-turned-investigator to run. He’d vacillated on doing it, but in the end had gone ahead and done it. As he’d expected, Pauline’s reputation was squeaky-clean.

As he approached, Tripp wiped his palms on the thighs of his jeans, well aware that he was worse than grubby, since he hadn’t bothered to shave and had been working with horses most of the day. He put out a hand to Pauline in greeting. Instead of taking it, she stepped up, rose onto her tiptoes and planted a smacking kiss on his cheek.

“You must be Tripp,” she said, stepping back into the curve of Jim’s arm.

“Even if I wasn’t,” he responded with a twinkle, “I’d have said I was, just to get that kiss.”

Jim looked pleased and more than a little relieved, too. He gestured with his free hand, taking in all the construction rigs, the crews still swarming over both the house and the barn, and pretended to frown. “This place is like a beehive,” he mock complained. “And what’s up with all those cattle I spotted out there on the range?”

“The construction is almost finished,” Tripp replied affably. “As for the cattle—well, I bought those from old Pete Helgeson, next door. Made for a pretty simple delivery, since all we had to do was take down some of his fence line and drive them through.”

“What’s wrong with Pete?” Jim immediately wanted to know, and this time, the frown was real.

“Nothing,” Tripp replied easily. “He says he’s too old to go ‘chasing after a bunch of knot-headed cows,’ that’s all. I made him an offer, and he took me up on it.”

Pauline gave Jim a subtle jab with one elbow.

Jim seemed baffled for a moment, then regrouped. He took Pauline’s left hand and held it up to display the wide gold band she was wearing.

“I hope you won’t think we jumped the gun, or feel slighted because we got hitched without you at the ceremony, but we just couldn’t wait,” Jim almost crowed.

Out of the corner of his eye, Tripp saw Ridley crawl out from under the truck and move cautiously in their direction.

Tripp’s grin broadened. “I’ve only got one thing to say about this, Dad,” he told the old man. “And that’s congratulations.”

Jim’s chest swelled, and he let go of Pauline long enough to haul Tripp into a brief and manly bear hug. “I’m one lucky man,” Jim said, grinning from ear to ear as his eyes misted over. He cleared his throat and said, “Now, if the two of you wouldn’t mind my neglecting you for a few minutes, I think I’ll have myself a look around, see what you’ve done to the old place while my back was turned.”

Pauline slipped her arm through Tripp’s and ushered him away from her bridegroom. “Jim’s told me how much he loved your mother,” she confided in a warm whisper. “She must have been a wonderful woman.”

“She was,” Tripp agreed, his voice going husky. “But she’s been gone a long time, and Jim’s been real lonely, going it alone. Mom would be glad he’s finally found somebody to love, Pauline.”

Pauline stopped, her arm still linked with Tripp’s, and looked up at him, her green eyes shining behind unshed tears, her lower lip wobbling slightly. “Ellie meant the world to him,” she said, “just like my Herb meant the world to me. And so do you, Tripp. No man ever loved a son more than Jim Galloway loves you.”

Tripp’s throat tightened, and he had to glance away briefly, get a grip on his emotions. “Well,” he said huskily, watching as his dad stood a dozen yards away, with his back to them, checking out the barn with its new roof and paint job in progress, “it’s mutual.”

Ridley inched closer and shyly sniffled at Pauline’s right knee, not just wagging his tail, but his whole back end.

She laughed and leaned down to muss the dog’s ears, saying gently, “Hello, there, you handsome little critter. Does this mean we can be friends?”

As far as Tripp was concerned, Pauline’s response to Ridley’s tentative overture was far more telling than any background check. While he definitely believed good folks came in all varieties, including some who preferred not to keep pets for one reason or another, he didn’t have much in common with that sort. They were usually a shade too worried about getting dirty to make for easy company, in his opinion.

Jim, apparently okay with the changes being made to the barn, turned and headed toward them, gesturing at the corral. “I don’t recognize that gelding,” he said, in his plainspoken way.

“Just bought him,” Tripp explained. “Along with a paint called Apache and a little mare named Sunset.”

“You’ve been busy,” Jim remarked drily.

“Winter’s not far off,” Tripp reminded him. “Makes sense to be ready.”

Jim chuckled. “That’s my boy,” he said. Taking Pauline’s hand again, he led her toward the house. “I believe I’ll show my bride through the house—that is, if I can still find my way around the place, given all the changes you’ve probably made.”

Tripp nodded, slapped his dad lightly on the back. “I think you’ll do fine.”

“The man bought two dishwashing machines,” Jim told Pauline. “Can you believe that?”

She laughed. “Sure, I can, you old fool,” she teased with obvious affection. “This is the twenty-first century, you know. Two dishwashers would come in mighty handy when there’s been a party, and at Thanksgiving and Christmas, too.”

“We don’t do much entertaining around here,” Jim mused, looking in Tripp’s direction, holding back a grin and yet obviously a little puzzled. “Leastways, not recently.”

Tripp hung back, thinking he might be intruding if he joined his dad and Pauline in the house. “If you’re still going on about the twin dishwashers,” he called after Jim, “you’re in for a hell of a shock when you see the main bathroom.”

Pauline turned without pulling away from Jim’s side and gestured to both Tripp and, ostensibly, the dog. “Come on inside,” she urged cheerfully. “It’s too early in the day for us to be doing any honeymooning.”

“That’s what
you
say,” Jim joked, poking his nose into all that dark red hair for a moment.

Pauline laughed again and swatted at him. “You behave,” she said in an undertone that carried.

Tripp was supposed to pick Hadleigh up for Bex’s party in a few hours, and he still had chores to do before he could shower and shave and put on clean clothes, so he waved them off. “I’ll be in after a while,” he said.

Ridley, that turncoat of a dog, left him behind without a backward glance, trotting alongside Pauline as if he’d known her forever.

Tripp shook his head, smiling, and went back to the corral to put the chestnut gelding away for the day. After that, he saddled Apache and took a quick ride out onto the range to check on the new cattle.

They were making themselves right at home, it turned out, grazing on the last of the summer grass, drinking noisily from the creek. He and old Pete had already put the fence line back in place, though, like so many things, it would need replacing.

After that, Tripp rode back, put Apache away and brought the other horses in from the nearby pasture, leading them one by one into their stalls. He made sure the newly installed electric waterers were clear of debris and working properly, then added hay to the feeders.

All the while, Tripp had been thinking about Hadleigh. He hadn’t seen her, except from a distance, since the morning after they made love, and her absence surrounded him, like some kind of void, a silence that pounded at him. Maybe she’d benefited from the separation, but it hadn’t worked that way for Tripp. Sure, he missed the sex—
more
than missed it—thought he’d go crazy, sometimes, if he couldn’t hold her, breathe in the scent of her hair and her skin, please her so thoroughly that she cried out his name, clutched at his back and shoulders, raised her body to meet his, seeking more and still more.

The sun was lowering by the time he started for the house, and it lifted his spirits to see lights glowing in the windows and to know he’d have somebody besides Ridley to talk to—for a while, at least. The construction guys had long since called it a day, taking their tools and their rigs with them, and the lumber stacked around the yard was almost gone, along with the paint cans that had crowded the side porch. At least now he could walk between the house and the barn without feeling as though he’d run an obstacle course.

Inside, he found Jim sitting in his customary chair at the kitchen table, going through the mail that had accumulated while he was away. Probably because he didn’t shop online, or even own a computer in the first place, he still got a few regular letters, along with plenty of magazines and catalogs and, of course, junk.

Ridley lay contentedly at his feet, greeting Tripp with a roll of his eyes before shutting them again, but there was no sign of Pauline.

“Where’s the wife?” Tripp asked, rolling up his sleeves and flipping on the water at the sink with a motion of one elbow, reaching for the familiar bar of yellow soap and scrubbing his hands and forearms, prior to the planned hot shower and careful shave.

Jim smiled and removed his reading glasses, the rimless kind sold in drugstores and supermarkets. “She’s plumb worn-out from driving all day,” he replied. “She had a sandwich, took a bath and went to bed.” Jim paused, looking solemnly at Tripp. “Something’s different about you, son,” he said. “What’s going on?”

Tripp sighed contentedly, dried his hands on a wad of paper towels and faced his dad. “It would take me half the night to tell you,” he replied, “and I’m due in town in a little more than an hour. Suppose we talk tomorrow?”

A sly grin broke over Jim’s face. “Fine by me,” he said. “But don’t be surprised if I jump to a few conclusions in the meantime.”

Tripp tossed away the used paper towels and laughed. “Such as?”

“Such as, you’re in such an all-fired hurry to get to town because Hadleigh will be waiting for you,” Jim answered, looking a mite smug. “Do I dare hope the two of you have finally woken up to the fact that you were meant for each other?”

Tripp cleared his throat diplomatically. “Hope away,” he teased. Mentally, he was already rehearsing the evening to come. He’d make a quick stop at the supermarket for another bouquet of flowers, along with a new box of condoms, which, considering that everybody in Mustang Creek knew everybody else—and way too well at that—would require some subtlety.

In her one communiqué, a text Tripp had received the night before, Hadleigh had asked him to pick her up at the shop, claiming she’d been neglecting her business and had some catching up to do.

“You have yourself a fine time tonight,” Jim interjected, putting on his reading glasses again, pushing them up his nose and focusing on the letter he’d just opened. “I’ll expect to hear about it over breakfast—provided you’re back here by then.”

Tripp gave a wry laugh and headed for his room.

* * *

H
ADLEIGH
HAD
PUT
in a busy day—
several
busy days, in fact—filming parts of the new how-to video she planned to offer, for a small fee, on her website. She’d helped customers, taught a beginner’s class and done a sort of mock-up of her next project—a quilt so special, so personal, that even thinking about it made her heart beat a little faster.

When she glanced at the old-fashioned regulator clock on the wall behind the sales counter, a little gasp escaped her. Tripp would probably walk through the door in a few minutes, and she wasn’t ready—not appearance-wise anyway. She hadn’t seen Tripp in several days, although they’d spoken on the phone a couple of times, and she was
definitely
ready for an encounter of the face-to-face kind.