Читать книгу: «The Cowboy's Forever Family»

Chapter One

“I miss you, buddy.”

Slade McKenna’s throat burned and he swallowed hard. He shook his head and grunted at his own foolishness. He wasn’t in the habit of talking to those who’d passed on. Thankfully, no one was here to witness the rarity.

Stirrup-high Texas grass brushed across his boots as he rode the fence line in search of bent posts or breaks in the barbed wire where the Becketts’ cattle might get free. Mending fences kept his mind off the bad stuff.

Mostly.

He wasn’t the kind of guy who expressed emotion, verbal or otherwise, but right now his feelings were digging as deeply into his side as spurs, no matter how hard he bucked and resisted to throw his grief.

His best friend Brody Beckett was gone. Forever.

Dead.

He could hardly bear to think the word, much less say it aloud, especially when Brody’s absence was such a stark, bitter reality. Checking the fences on his parents’ ranch property had been Brody’s chore since he was old enough to sit straight on a horse, and as his best friend, Slade had often accompanied him in his rounds. When they were both little tykes, Slade and Brody had spent many hours out here on the range together, where the lowing of cattle, the gentle Texas wind and the creak of saddle leather were the only sounds to break the sweet silence.

That, and the howling and hollering of a couple of ornery young boys who’d rather have been wrestling than wrangling.

Riding and roughhousing with Brody. Those were some of the best memories Slade had. And all of Brody he had left to take with him now.

Memories.

Slade pulled his mount up, clenched his jaw and concentrated on pushing his thoughts—and the pain—away.

His black quarter horse mare Nocturne shifted sideways and pricked her ears forward. Slade was suddenly alert and completely attuned to both his mount and his surroundings. His eyes narrowed as he scanned the area for the prospect of danger, thankful for the shadow of the brim of his black Stetson against the glaring sun.

He knew his horse as well as he knew his own thoughts. Nock’s muscles twitched underneath him. He tightened the reins and squeezed his knees to encourage his horse to remain steady. The hair on his arms stood on edge from the crackle of tension in the air and he strained to listen to the sound of movement within the silence. He didn’t know what was wrong, but he had no doubt there was something out there on the Texas prairie. Nocturne wasn’t easily spooked.

A snake? A cougar?

But it wasn’t the sound of rattling Slade’s keen ears picked up on.

Instead, he heard sniffling, coming from just over a rolling mound of earth only a few feet away.

Adjusting the brim of his hat low over his brow, Slade dismounted, leaving Nocturne to graze. He approached the direction of the unlikely sounds cautiously, unsure of what he’d find—or rather, who he was about to encounter. Frankly, he’d rather face a whole pack of hungry coyotes than one weeping female.

If he had to guess, he expected her to be a teenager, one of the local girls who’d just had her heart broken and was hiding out trying to sort her emotions. Bit far out of town for a kid, but she’d probably parked near the fence and decided to walk for a while. Not the smartest idea. A girl could be easily lost. But she probably wasn’t thinking straight.

Adolescent angst. Just what he didn’t want to have to deal with today.

Slade’s first thought was that he shouldn’t interfere with whatever drama was going on in the Becketts’ backyard. He hadn’t yet made his presence known. He could turn around, mount up and ride away and the Mysterious Crying Female would be no wiser for him having been there at all.

He had no business here. For starters, he wasn’t any kind of expert in female drama, teenage or otherwise. If the girl was hiding out here fairly far out on the range to have a good cry, she probably didn’t want to be found or interrupted, especially by a guy like him.

On the other hand, he couldn’t very well walk away if the poor kid needed his assistance. It wasn’t in him to leave when he might be needed. He was a cop, for one thing. Helping people was his day job. He figured he ought to at least check her out and make sure she wasn’t hurt, even if it did make him feel every kind of awkward. And it was what God would expect him to do, right? Help his fellow man—er, woman?

But consoling a teenager? So far out of his comfort zone. This newfound faith of his was going to be a whole lot harder than he’d imagined when he’d first bowed his head at the cowboy church and acknowledged the Almighty.

The ranch was private property, but Brody’s parents wouldn’t be too bothered by a girl seeking out somewhere to be alone and find some solace. In fact, they’d be urging him to help her out, since he was the one to find her.

He shoved out a breath, resolving to be nice to the kid. Patient, if he could manage it. He wasn’t known for that particular virtue, or many others, for that matter. But he would try.

Yanking his Stetson from his head, he topped the grassy mound, his shadow engulfing the female huddled on the other side. “Excuse me, miss, but I was riding by and I couldn’t help but overhear—”

His sentence slammed to an abrupt stop at the same moment his gaze met a pair of fiery brown eyes showering sparks at him.

“You.” His voice formed around the word like an accusation because that’s exactly what it was. “What are you doing on Brody’s property?”

Laney Beckett, Brody’s estranged wife and now his widow, scrambled to her feet, all five feet and nine inches of her. She raised her chin and brushed the moisture from her cheeks with the sleeve of her lavender-colored shirt. She might be on the taller side for a woman, but Slade stood at six-two when he was slouching and he towered over her. He squared his shoulders and used his superior height to his advantage.

“I could ask you the same thing, Slade McKenna,” she countered, apparently unfazed by his attempt to intimidate her.

Fury rushed through him, heat rising from the heels of his boots until it burned in his ears. It was all he could do to rein in his temper. He curled the brim of his Stetson until his knuckles were white.

She crossed her arms in a paradoxically defiant and defensive gesture. It was only then that his gaze shifted away from her eyes—and straight to her burgeoning middle.

Slade’s breath slammed from his lungs as if he’d been sucker punched. He scowled in disbelief.

The woman was pregnant. Had he lived, Brody would have been a father.

Slade clenched his jaw, afraid he was gaping, or that he’d say something he’d later regret. Emotion surged through him. He was angry, shocked, grief-stricken and indignant on Brody’s behalf, all at once, and he didn’t know what to do with any of the feelings consuming him.

Brody couldn’t have known about it. Slade was certain of that fact. Laney must have been pregnant at the funeral, but Slade certainly hadn’t been the wiser for it. She hadn’t looked pregnant. But she must have known she was carrying Brody’s baby, even back then. How could she take off without even sharing that information with anyone? It made him sick just to think about it.

He spun away from her and stalked several yards, scrubbing a hand through his thick black hair and forcing raspy breaths into his lungs.

“Why are you here now?” he growled. “Especially in that—” he waved a hand in the general direction of her protruding midsection “—condition? It certainly didn’t take you long to hightail it out of Serendipity after the funeral. With Brody’s baby, no less.”

“I don’t answer to you,” she responded, her tone deceptively quiet and even. It wasn’t hard for him to hear the barely concealed disdain for him in her voice.

He couldn’t care less what Laney thought of him. His only concern was for Brody’s honor and memory, for which Laney obviously cared so little. And what about Brody’s folks? Did Grant and Carol know they had a future grandchild?

Brody’s baby. How was this even possible? Laney and Brody had been separated. And now she was pregnant? How could he have missed that fact when Laney was here for the funeral? A looming sense of guilt and responsibility clouded Slade’s thoughts.

Brody’s baby.

“You owe me some answers,” he pressed, turning to face her full-on. One way or another, she was going to tell him everything.

She sputtered and gasped. Her irises flared, darkening the chocolate brown of her eyes. “You are the most arrogant, self-absorbed man I have ever met in my life. This isn’t about you, and I’m certainly under no obligation to answer to you. What would possibly make you think I’d tell you anything, especially after the way you’ve treated me today with all your blustering and bullying?”

Slade flinched. He was many things, but he wasn’t a bully. Maybe he was trying to intimidate her a little bit, but for good reason. He was after the truth. And Laney did owe him that much, even if she didn’t acknowledge it right now. He had an obligation toward that baby. But maybe he was approaching her wrong, although he didn’t have the slightest idea how to fix that problem. He took a mental step backward, regrouping his forces against the stubborn woman.

“Brody was my best friend.” Nothing like stating the obvious, but he had to say something to fill the awkward void left by her question.

“He was my husband,” she launched back, spitting the words. “Not that you would have any idea about the kind of commitment a man and woman make to each other.”

He hissed through his teeth. He had less use for love than he did for Laney. Just look at what it had done to Brody. He glared at her belly rather than meeting her gaze. One way or another, he was going to pull the truth from her.

“I don’t understand. You didn’t even look pregnant at the funeral, and now you just show up in Serendipity out of nowhere.” A statement of fact, even if it resembled an indictment. “What’s your angle, Laney? Why are you really here?”

* * *

What was her angle? What was her angle?

How dare he?

Laney pulled in a deep breath through her nose in an unsuccessful attempt to force herself into a state of calm she didn’t feel—not so much for her sake but for the baby’s. If it wasn’t for the little one growing inside her, she might very well have launched herself at Slade and really given him the what-for he clearly deserved. She had the notion he’d never been walloped by a woman before, and it was high time he was taken down a notch or two.

Or ten.

Despite her best efforts, her heartbeat roared in her ears and her pulse skyrocketed. If real smoke could blow from her ears she’d be steaming like a kettle right now.

“I wasn’t yet showing at the funeral, but I knew I was carrying Brody’s baby.”

His piercing blue eyes narrowed on her and he stepped forward, looming over her and puffing out his chest like a rooster. As if that would intimidate her. She was exactly right in saying he was nothing but a schoolyard bully.

“How did this happen?” His voice was low and icy.

“Excuse me?” Both of her eyebrows arched, disappearing under her hairline. If Slade didn’t know the facts of life she certainly wasn’t going to be the one to explain them to him. The very idea was laughable.

“You and Brody were having a baby together, when I know for a fact you two were separated well before his—” He paused and his voice deepened and turned gruff “—accident happened.”

“Obviously, we spent some time together trying to work things out,” she retorted, clipping her words. “He was my husband,” she reminded him again.

“That doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”

Wow. He might as well have slapped her. She could give and take as well as the next woman, but it wasn’t only her character he was maligning. It was Brody’s. And Slade was casting a shadow over their beloved baby, as if the unborn Beckett was some kind of mistake.

“You can’t imagine how I felt when I discovered I was pregnant,” she informed him coldly. “I was so happy. So angry. And horribly, horribly saddened by it all. I’m responsible for raising Brody’s baby all on my own. He or she is all I have left of my husband.”

He shrugged. “But you sure didn’t take any time after his death to grieve for him, did you? You ran away to—wherever—instead of sticking around.”

“Take that back.” She shoved at his chest and he immediately raised his arms in surrender.

“I’m only saying how it looked to me.”

“Then maybe you need to get glasses. Not to mention giving me—and Brody—a little more credit.”

He jerked his chin. She wasn’t sure whether he was agreeing with her or merely acknowledging what she’d said.

“I had my reasons for leaving town after the funeral. And Brody and I were trying to work it out,” she reiterated, in case there was any doubt whatsoever in the big oaf’s mind. “Brody is the only man I’ve ever loved. But it didn’t help that you put ideas in his head, did it? Led him away from his family obligations without a care for how it affected me. Don’t you have a conscience?”

He had the good grace to flinch, but the way he was eyeing her rounded middle, as if weighing her words for truth, made her want to cover her belly with her arms to protect the child within.

“Why were you crying?”

His question caught her off guard, not only the words themselves, but the muted tone in which they were asked. Surely he hadn’t picked now to decide to control that wicked tongue of his. He’d already done too much damage to go back now.

“I—” She started to deny she’d been crying at all, but that would have been a lie. She had been crying. He’d caught her with tears pouring down her cheeks. She couldn’t very well deny it now. “Sometimes my emotions catch up with me. I try to keep them in check, but every so often, something reminds me of Brody and it’s just too much of a burden for me to bear.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, sifting his finger through his thick black hair. “I know what you mean.”

He probably did, at least to some degree. For all his faults, Slade had been Brody’s best friend and had known him from childhood. He had to be hurting, too, she supposed, in his own ill-mannered way. Maybe that was part of the reason he was acting like such a Neanderthal. Not that that was any excuse for the way he’d treated her when Brody was still alive...

“Where are you parked?” he asked gruffly.

“Back at Brody’s folks’ house.” She glanced around her but saw only grassland in every direction. It all looked the same to her. She hadn’t realized she’d wandered so far from the homestead. Not only could she not see the house from here—she didn’t even know from which direction she’d come.

She was lost.

Not that she’d admit that particular fact to Slade.

“You walked all the way from their house in your condition?” He looked her up and down, disbelief in his gaze. “Do you know how many miles that is? What were you thinking? You could have hurt yourself or the baby.”

“I’m pregnant, not ill. It’s perfectly acceptable for me to walk. If anything, it’s a good thing for me to get all this fresh air and exercise.” Maybe she shouldn’t have wandered quite so far off onto the range, but she hadn’t been thinking.

Or maybe she’d been thinking too much.

He didn’t look the least bit convinced she wasn’t taking unnecessary risks. Well, too bad for him.

“You’ll never make it back to the house before dark on foot.” How did the man make every single statement out of his mouth sound like an accusation? Then again, she had to concede that he did have a point.

Heat flushed her cheeks. She’d left midafternoon. It had never occurred to her that she might be caught with the sun setting on her. She might be fine now, but she’d be completely helpless in the dark. Of course, she hadn’t planned to walk quite this far.

Or to get lost.

“You don’t even know where you are, do you?”

As much as she’d hated the accusatory tone he’d used on her earlier, at least she’d known how to respond to it. What she heard now was sympathy, with a note of kindness. Where had that come from?

She didn’t answer, shifting her gaze to somewhere over his left shoulder.

“You don’t.”

He didn’t have to sound so satisfied.

“It’s settled, then. You’re coming with me.”

She ignored his dictatorial attitude. She would argue all night about his high-handedness if it was just her at risk in the dark with no clear route home, but she had the baby to consider, and pride only took a pregnant woman so far. “All right, I guess. You’ve got your truck parked somewhere nearby?”

He laughed, a deep, rich rumble from low in his chest. “Something like that.”

“Why do I feel like I should be worried?”

He chuckled again and took her hand to steady her as they walked over the uneven soil. She allowed it, but only because the increase in her waistline made her steps ungainly. Laney might not be a country girl, but she was a native Texan and she knew the wild terrain was filled with treacherous bumps and hollows along the way.

As they crested the hill she saw why Slade was hedging. His mode of transportation was a horse, not a truck, contentedly grazing on the grassy knoll.

So much for a comfortable ride back to the house. Did he really expect her to get up on that thing, as pregnant as she was?

Slade whistled and the black mare lifted her head. A second whistle and she trotted to his side. It was the most unusual thing she’d ever seen.

“Let me introduce you to our ride,” Slade said, smoothing his hand over the horse’s mane as she nudged her muzzle into his shirt pocket. “This is Nocturne. She knows where I keep the sugar.”

Somehow the idea of Slade carrying sugar cubes in his pocket went against her image of him as an unfeeling, cold-hearted cowboy. Clearly his horse, at least, liked him, and that was saying something. Animals sensed when a human was the genuine article, didn’t they? Or maybe he just bribed Nocturne with sweets.

Slade checked the cinch. “You about ready to climb up here?”

Laney hesitated, then nodded. Mounting would be awkward with her rounded belly. Getting her foot into the stirrup would be next to impossible, but at least she’d changed into a pair of jeans before she’d left for her walk. It would have been considerably more awkward had she still been in the dress she’d been wearing earlier in the day.

She reached for the saddle horn, intending to attempt to slip her foot in the stirrup, but she never had the opportunity. Before she knew what was happening, Slade’s hands spanned her waist—or where her waist would have been seven months ago—and picked her up as if she weighed nothing. His touch was surprisingly gentle as he placed her onto the saddle.

“Are you gonna be more comfortable riding side-saddle or do you think you want to sling your leg over?”

Laney weighed his question in her mind. In her present condition, sitting on a horse period wasn’t the ultimate in luxury, but as to how she would ride—she supposed that had to do with a number of other factors, such as where, exactly, Slade intended to sit when he joined her. If, in fact, Nocturne could handle the extra burden of the two of them riding together. Slade wasn’t a small man.

She pictured herself being relegated to the “backseat” behind the saddle, clutching her arms around Slade’s waist and hanging on for dear life as he galloped home. Then again, if she was in front and he rode behind her, she would by default have those enormous, muscular arms of his wrapped around her. A wave of anxiety rolled over her just thinking about it. She didn’t know which would be worse. Certainly neither option even remotely appealed to her.

“I’m walking,” he said, answering the question she’d left unspoken. “So get comfortable. Whatever works for you.”

She sighed in relief. One less source of anxiety to deal with—for now. She thought she’d feel more comfortable riding astride so she swung her leg over the saddle horn.

Slade adjusted the stirrups for her height and then waited a beat for her to adjust her weight in the saddle before clicking his tongue to Nocturne. He strode forward without giving Laney so much as another glance. She noted that he followed the fence line, which would have been a good idea for her, as well. Assuming she’d found the fence in the first place. And even then she wouldn’t have known which direction to follow it. Still, it was something to keep in mind should she decide to wander off by herself again.

She tried to observe the countryside, to look for landmarks she could use on future outings, but there was nothing to hold her interest and her gaze kept returning to Slade. Thick black hair curled from under the brim of his hat. His broad shoulders sloped into a well-muscled back which then narrowed to a trim waist. He had the build of a perfect athlete and moved like one, too, his stride long and energetic, and yet with the easy country swagger that had clearly melted many ladies’ hearts.

Too bad his mouth and his attitude went along with that easy-on-the-eyes profile. Laney pitied the women who’d tried to take Slade on.

Thankfully, he didn’t realize she was staring at him. He appeared completely oblivious even to her presence, walking and whistling softly as if he were alone on the grassy plain. He held Nocturne’s reins in a loose grip but it was clear his horse would have followed him anyway, lead or not.

Sugar. It was the sugar.

Laney estimated they’d been heading back toward the house for about ten minutes when she first noticed the sky turning into a watercolor painting of pastel pinks and blues, with hues of yellow and orange undertones mixed into a breathtaking combination. The most gifted painter ever born could not have duplicated such a sight, and Laney offered a silent prayer of thanks to the Lord for His handiwork.

Even as she breathed amen, she realized the flaw in Slade’s rescue strategy. While he’d thankfully saved her from the embarrassment of riding with her, he’d overlooked one important detail.

“I appreciate you helping me out this afternoon,” she said, flinching both at the echo of her own voice breaking the silence and the fact that in all honesty she’d much rather have had nearly anybody in the world discover her. “But how is it that you think walking me home is any better than if I’d simply made the hike myself? It appears to me that we’re still going to get caught in the dark either way.”

He grunted and tossed a condescending look over his shoulder.

“What?”

“I’m bigger than you are.”

Seriously? “And that would relate to what I just asked you...how?”

“My stride. It’s much longer than yours. Quicker, too, I’d imagine, given your condition. We’re going to get there faster than if you were walking on your own. In fact, we’ve almost arrived. You’ll be able to see the Becketts’ house in just a few minutes.”

Laney scoffed and shook her head. She didn’t see how Slade could make a ridiculous claim like that and make it sound like a fact. Yes, they were still following the fence line, but the fence—and the land—all looked the same. How could he possibly tell where they were in relation to the house?

“You sound mighty sure of yourself.”

“I am.”

Even though Slade couldn’t see her, she rolled her eyes. Exasperating man.

“You didn’t even know where you were going, Laney. You would have wandered around in circles all night.”

Point taken. But he didn’t have to rub it in.

“And you’ve got to watch out for Brody’s kid.”

As if he had to remind her. Feeling as if he’d just jabbed at her, she instinctively laid a protective hand across her belly. She didn’t like the way he’d just referred to her precious unborn child as the kid. And Brody’s kid, as if she had no part in the baby at all.

“Stop,” she hissed as her anger escalated. Heat expanded through her chest and pressed into her head.

He turned and removed his hat, dabbing sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his shirt. “What?”

“Before we get back to the ranch house, I want to make something perfectly clear to you.”

His shoulders visibly tightened and he frowned. “And that would be?”

“Brody’s parents have been through enough grief without you making unfeeling remarks about their grandchild. This baby is bringing hope, peace, and—pray God—maybe eventually even a little happiness into their lives. I won’t have you upsetting them with your thoughtless implications.”

One side of his mouth ticked. She didn’t know if that meant she’d gotten through to his hard heart or if it was a sign of anger, but frankly, she didn’t care, as long as he agreed to her nonnegotiable terms. She wouldn’t have him upsetting the Becketts. Not for anything.

“Well?” she challenged when he didn’t speak.

His dark brows lowered over his blue eyes, which had darkened from bright and electric to a midnight color. He glowered at her, and between the scowl and the frown were menacing, almost dangerous overtones. He wasn’t a man to cross.

She stared him down, refusing to give in to her roiling stomach and hammering heart. This was one battle she had to win.

“Okay,” he growled and forcefully jamming his hat on his head. “I won’t say anything negative about you or the baby to the Becketts.”

“Do I have your word on that?” She had no idea why she was pressing him. What good was his word, anyway? From what she knew of him, he’d say or do anything to get what he wanted.

He jerked his head in a clipped nod and stalked away from her, causing Nocturne to jolt forward. Thankfully she’d been holding on to the saddle horn or she might have been unseated. The thoughtless man didn’t even consider the consequences to his actions. And yet he had the gall to be all over her about hers?

Slade had better not renege on his promise, if he knew what was good for him. Because if he somehow hurt Brody’s parents—well, he’d have her to deal with.

And it wouldn’t be pretty.