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The Rancher's Spittin' Image
Peggy Moreland
TEXAS BRIDES HIS WOMAN, HIS CHILDJesse Barrister was back - lean muscled, broad shouldered and fit to be tied. Seemed his former sweetheart Mandy McCloud had a child who was the rancher's spittin' image. Could the boy be a Barrister? And if so, would the long-ragin' feud between the Barristers and the McClouds finally come to an end? Jesse wasn't looking to make amends - all he wanted was to claim his son… and another night in Mandy's arms.But sharing a child with Mandy was a whole lot different from sharing a bed with her. And soon the hard-hearted cowboy had a hankering to wake up next to Mandy, morning after morning after morning… .TEXAS BRIDES: Come on down to the McCloud family ranch - 'cause there's no place like Texas for a wedding!


“Does Being Here Alone With Me Bother You?” (#u00d73025-6449-5b4a-9ed1-9182e870504e)Letter to Reader (#u3632ea53-6929-54ee-b362-02ce4fe6098b)Title Page (#ud6491665-8468-5683-b7a6-1e7d4d96f3e5)PEGGY MORELAND (#u953dcee4-4230-5de0-b8dd-f8e8eac166fc)Dedication (#u90565044-3d89-5f1d-bfb9-c3d821d12996)Prologue (#u5d7d1227-859d-5d75-92ff-347ec2fd184a)Chapter One (#u17f58b62-1d53-5f60-85da-5bbfdba7b1aa)Chapter Two (#u648a97ee-6c41-51bb-8d4e-2b7b1fc7c497)Chapter Three (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
“Does Being Here Alone With Me Bother You?”
Jesse said, a sardonic smile curving one corner of his sexy mouth.
“No,” Mandy lied. “Though I wondered why you chose this place for us to meet.”
“But this is where it all began, Mandy. This is where our son was conceived. It’s the perfect place to discuss his future.”
He nodded toward the center of the grassy, moonlit glen. “I’d wait for you right there while you slipped out of your father’s house to meet your half-breed lover.”
Tears filled Mandy’s eyes. Oh, please, Jesse, she cried silently. Don’t do this.
But Jesse wasn’t through with her yet. He took a step closer, hooked a finger in the strand of hair that shadowed her face and dropped his lips to her neck.
Heat curled through her. “What do you want from me?” she whispered.
“My son.”
Dear Reader,
Silhouette Desire is proud to launch three brand-new, emotional and romantic miniseries this month! We’ve got twin sisters switching places, sexy men who rise above their pasts and a ranching family marriying off their Texas daughters.
Along with our spectacular new miniseries, we’re bringing you Anne McAllister’s latest novel in her bestselling CODE OF THE WEST series, July’s MAN OF THE MONTH selection, The Cowboy Clashes a Wedding. Next, a shy, no-frills librarian leads a fairy-tale life when she masquerades as her twin sister in Barbara McMahon’s Cinderella Twin, book one of her IDENTICAL TWINS! duet. In Seducing the Proper Miss Miller by Anne Marie Winston, the town’s black sheep and the minister’s daughter cause a scandal with their sudden wedding.
Sexy Western author Peggy Moreland invites readers to get to know the McCloud sisters and the irresistible men who court them—don’t miss the first TEXAS BRIDES book, The Rancher’s Spittin‘ Image. And a millionaire bachelor discovers his secret heir in The Tycoon’s Son by talented author Shawna Delacorte. A gorgeous loner is keeping quiet about His Most Scandalous Secret in the first book in Susan Crosby’s THE LONE WOLVES miniseries.
So get to know the friends and families in Silhouette Desire’s hottest new miniseries—and watch for more of their love stories in months to come!
Regards.


Melissa Senate
Senior Editor
Silhouette Books
Please address questions and book requests to:
Silhouette Reader Service
U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269
Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3
Peggy Moreland
The Rancher’s Spittin’ Image



www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
PEGGY MORELAND
published her first romance with Silhouette in 1989. She’s a natural storyteller with a sense of humor that will tickle your fancy, and Peggy’s goal is to write a story that readers will remember long after the last page is turned. Winner of the 1992 National Reader’s Choice Award, and a 1994 RITA Award finalist, Peggy frequently appears on bestseller lists around the country. A native Texan, she and her family live in Round Rock, Texas.
To my Georgetown girlfriends, better known
as the WADY Birds: Kathy Craig, Cindy Davies,
Lali Ewan, Pam Fling, Susan Hoyt, Becky Kennedy and
Libby Wood. Thanks for welcoming me into the nest and
allowing me the opportunity to “fly” with you.
Prologue
Under the shadow of darkness and with only the moon’s silvery light to guide their movements, the young lovers rose from the rumpled blanket as one. Perspiration beaded their bodies in the sultry night air like an early morning dew, yet they clung to each other, replete but reluctant to let the other go.
They sighed and drew an arm’s length apart, looking deeply into each other’s eyes. Scents of crushed grass and wildflowers tangled with the headier scent of sex and filled their senses, making leaving that much more difficult.
Even though he was aware of the danger in lingering, Jesse dipped his head over Mandy’s again for one last kiss. “You need to go,” he whispered.
“I know,” she murmured. But the taste of him was wild and intoxicating and filled with enough of the forbidden that Mandy was reluctant to leave him. She splayed her fingers across the breadth of his chest and watched his eyes darken. The quickening of his heart beneath her palm brought a temptress smile to her swollen lips. “But maybe just a minute longer,” she suggested.
Her breath against his mouth was as tantalizingly sweet as the fingers that roamed his chest. Jesse caught her hands in his and drew them to his lips, wanting her again, as desperately as he had only moments before, but knowing they’d already stayed too long. “It’s too chancy, Mandy,” he warned. “At any moment someone might find you gone and come looking for you. If they found us—”
Mandy quickly pressed her lips to his, silencing him, not wanting to hear the dangers of their secret meetings voiced aloud. “They won’t,” she promised and dipped quickly to pick up her panties and bra. With shaking fingers she quickly donned them.
On a sigh, Jesse followed her lead, pulling on first his jeans, then his shirt, then dropping down on the blanket to tug on his socks and boots. But his eyes never left Mandy, watching as she frantically pushed buttons through holes in her blouse and shimmied into her jeans.
“Mandy,” he said, his slight Mexican accent caressing each syllable of her name as he reached for her hand. “My heart aches at the thought of leaving you.”
The poetry in him never ceased to amaze her and her blood warmed and thickened with her love for him. With a quivering smile, she threaded her fingers through his and braced herself as he used her weight to pull himself to his feet. Stepping nearer, she wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek against his chest.
“I—I’ll miss you,” she whispered brokenly, the lump in her throat making voicing the words difficult.
“No more than I’ll miss you,” he returned, squeezing her tightly against him. “When can we meet again?”
She lifted her face to his, wanting to take with her the memory of his handsome face, the love that glowed so vibrantly in his dark eyes. “Saturday. Daddy is going to San Antonio to a sale and won’t be back until Sunday, late.”
His brow furrowed. “But how will you slip away unnoticed?”
In the moonlight, her smile radiated confidence. “Don’t worry. I’ll think of a way.”
The sound of a dry twig snapping came from the protective arc of trees that surrounded their secluded spot. Jesse stiffened, his fingertips digging into Mandy’s neck as he pressed her face to his shoulder to stifle her cry of alarm. He cocked his head, listening, searching the perimeter for the source of the sound, praying that it was only an animal moving through the thick stand of trees on its nightly hunt for food. But as his gaze struck a bright sheen of polished metal gleaming in a beam of moonlight, he knew it wasn’t an animal he’d heard. It was something much worse, someone much more menacing.
He quickly shifted, placing himself between Mandy and the barrel of the rifle aimed at them. Even as he did, a man stepped from the shadows of the trees and into the moonlight The rifle was braced against his wide shoulder, its barrel aimed at Jesse’s chest.
“Jesse Barrister!”
Jesse heard Mandy’s sharp intake of breath, felt her fingers claw at his back as the roar of her father’s voice filled the night. Defiantly Jesse lifted his chin, meeting the angry gaze of Lucas McCloud.
“What do you want, McCloud?” he demanded.
“What’s mine.” With a snarl, Lucas took a step closer and waved the barrel of the gun. “Mandy! Get out from behind him, or I swear I’ll blow a hole clean through the both of you.”
The cold-blooded threat pushed ice through Jesse’s veins. “You’d kill your own daughter?”
“I’d rather see her dead than teamed with the likes of you. Now get out from behind him, Mandy.”
When Mandy shifted as if to obey the order, Jesse thrust his arms behind him to hold her in place. In doing so, he offered Lucas an even broader target for his aim. “You’re not on McCloud land,” he warned Lucas, “you’re on Barrister land. You don’t give the orders here. I do.”
Lucas barked a laugh, but kept the gun aimed dead on Jesse’s chest. “You bastard,” he spat out. “You don’t give orders here or anywhere. You’re nothing but the whelp of Wade’s Mexican whore.”
Jesse felt his blood heat at the insult. Not for himself. He’d long ago grown accustomed to the word bastard. But no one had the right to sully his mother’s name. “Bastard or not, I’m a Barrister, and no McCloud is welcome on Barrister land.”
Though Lucas’s gaze remained locked on Jesse’s, his words were for his daughter. “Did you hear that, Mandy?” he mocked. “No McCloud is welcome on Barrister land. And you are a McCloud.”
“She’s mine!” Jesse shot back before Mandy could answer. “And as soon as she’s of age, her name will be Barrister, not McCloud.”
The metallic grate of the rifle’s lever being rammed into firing position split the night in two. “Over my dead body,” Lucas roared. “No daughter of mine will ever carry the name Barrister. I’ll kill you first.”
Mandy jerked free of Jesse and threw herself in front of him, placing herself between her father and the man she loved.
“No, Daddy, please.” she sobbed. “I love Jesse.”
Lucas’s eyes narrowed, but he never lowered the rifle. Its barrel now pointed at the hollow at Mandy’s throat. “Get away from him, or I swear I’ll kill him for the thieving bastard that he is—and you right along with him.”
Before Jesse could stop her, Mandy raced across the space that separated them from her father and grabbed for the barrel, shoving it high in the air. The gun went off, the sound of its explosive report bouncing off the trees and echoing in the dark glen.
Knocked off-balance by Mandy’s attack, Lucas fell back a step, but quickly regained his footing, wrapping a thick muscled arm around Mandy’s waist and pulling her hard against his side.
Jesse lunged forward, but Lucas quickly one-armed the rifle back into position, stopping him.
“Jesse, please,” Mandy sobbed. “Go before he kills you.”
Jesse glared at Lucas McCloud, the hate that burned in him mirrored in the older man’s eyes. Slowly he shifted his gaze to Mandy’s. Even more slowly he lifted a hand to her, his palm up in silent entreaty. “Come with me, Mandy. Come with me now. We can leave here, we can go somewhere where your father will never find us.”
“I’ll find you,” Lucas warned, his voice low and threatening. “There’s not a hole deep enough for you to crawl into where I can’t find you. And when I do, I’ll kill you.”
Mandy looked at Jesse through eyes blurred with tears, torn between her love for her father and the man who owned her heart. She knew her father would make good his promise. He hated all the Barristers; the feud between the two neighboring ranches had raged for four generations. But he hated Jesse most of all, not only because he was Wade Barrister’s illegitimate son, but because Lucas could never see beyond the color of Jesse’s skin or the Mexican accent that no amount of Americanization had been able to erase.
She knew she could find a way for them to be together. She just needed time to think, to formulate a plan. Even if it meant waiting the few months that stretched between this night and her eighteenth birthday before she saw him again, she knew her love for Jesse would survive the separation. Especially when the reward at the end was that they could be together forever.
Unable to stand the rawness of his expression, the love and expectancy that gleamed in his eyes, she dropped her gaze, praying that he would understand. “No, Jesse. I can’t.”
For a moment he seemed stunned by her response, then his body slowly stiffened and his hands closed into fists at his sides. With a savage cry, he lunged, his arms raised, his fingers curled as if already closing around the neck of the man who threatened his happiness, the man who stood between him and the woman he loved.
A shot rang out, deafening Mandy. She clapped her hands over her ears, her body throbbing with the rifle’s report. The scene in front of her slipped into slow motion and she watched Jesse’s eyes widen, his face twist in pain. The impact of the blast spun him to the left and she watched in silent horror as he staggered two steps, then crumpled to the ground.
Mandy’s scream ruptured the night. “Jesse! No-o-ooo!”
One
The three women stood, shoulders almost touching, staring up at the portrait of their father that had hung over the fireplace in the den of their family home for over twenty years. Pictured astride his horse, the aptly named Satan, Lucas McCloud seemed a man born to a saddle. The artist had captured him leaning forward slightly with his forearm braced casually atop the saddle horn and the bridle’s leather reins gathered loosely in his opposite hand.
Set against a panorama of blue Texas sky and the rocky hills and green meadows that made up the Double-Cross Heart Ranch, both rider and horse appeared indomitable. One could almost feel the stallion’s wildness captured by the artist’s brush. Standing on a slab of limestone that jutted from a high ridge, with his ears cocked forward, his head held high, the horse met the viewer’s gaze with an arrogance, a ripple of muscled strength, a compelling dominance that equaled that of the man on his back.
And no one was more aware of these traits than the three women who stood staring up at the portrait. They’d stood just so every year on this same date for eleven years, to mourn as well as honor the man pictured above them.
Yet anyone who saw them together would never dream the three were sisters, that they shared the same parents, the same pool of genes. The daughters of Lucas McCloud were as different in personality as they were in looks.
Mandy, the oldest, stood to the left of the portrait, her hands molded around a mug of steaming coffee. An almost fragile look disguised a deep inner strength and a will that matched that of the man who’d spawned her. Thick auburn hair brushed her slim shoulders, a testament to her femininity, while a denim work shirt and faded jeans, her standard wear, hid her soft curves. Her chin was tipped high, almost in defiance, with only the slight tremble in her lips giving her emotions away as she stared up at the painting of her father.
Samantha, or Sam as her family called her—a much more fitting name for the tomboy of the family—stood in the middle, the tips of her fingers tucked rigidly into the front pockets of her faded jeans. Raven-black hair, scraped back in a ponytail, hung almost to the middle of her back. Though tears burned behind her eyes, her lips remained pressed together, showing no emotion as she stared at the man who’d dominated her life until his death.
Merideth held the position at the right, her long graceful fingers wound negligently around a crystal wineglass. Taller than the others by two inches, Merideth was often mistaken as the oldest...but one look at the pouty lips, the bored expression, quickly gave away her position of honor as the baby of the family. Her sisters, the McCloud housekeeper and everyone else who came in contact with Merideth had succeeded in spoiling her rotten after her mother’s untimely death in a car accident by giving in to her fits of temper, her unending demands. Lucas was the only one who’d had the grit to stand firm against her, refusing to give her what she truly wanted most...a one-way ticket away from the confines of the Double-Cross Heart Ranch.
With a sigh, Merideth turned away from the portrait, tucking a stray lock of blond hair behind her ear. “Well, I for one am glad he’s gone.”
Horrified, Mandy wheeled to stare at her. “Merideth!”
Merideth shrugged as she sank fluidly onto the leather sofa, drawing one slender foot beneath her. She pushed out her lower lip and jutted her chin in the famous pout that had earned her the nickname “the woman America most loves to hate” from Soap Opera Digest. “Well, it’s the truth,” she said disagreeably. “He was mean and domineering and controlled our lives until the day he died.” She lifted her gaze, meeting Mandy’s shocked one with one of defiance. “You, of all people, can attest to that.”
Though her cheeks reddened with heat, Mandy tightened her grip on her mug and managed to keep her tone even. “He was our father,” she returned. “He loved us—in his way. Besides,” she added emphatically, “it was his wealth that enabled all of us to achieve our dreams. You should at least be grateful for that.”
Merideth dipped her chin, peering at Mandy from beneath one neatly arched brow. “Our dreams?” she repeated, drilling Mandy with a look that had sent stage directors and makeup artists alike running for cover.
“Back off, Merideth,” Sam warned as she, too, turned away from the portrait.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” she exclaimed in annoyance, shifting her gaze to Sam. “It’s true and you know it. You were able to go to veterinary school, which Daddy would never have allowed if he’d lived, and I bought a ticket to New York and the means to live as high as I want while I do what I’ve always wanted to do, act. But what did Mandy get? Hmmm?” she quizzed pointedly as she turned to Mandy for an answer.
“I got the ranch,” Mandy murmured, turning away.
“We all got the ranch,” Merideth reminded her. “But you were the only one who wanted to continue to live here and run the place. What I want to know is what Daddy’s wealth bought you. Was it able to buy you your dreams?”
Mandy felt the tension build in her back as Merideth’s words stabbed into old wounds still unhealed. “I have the money. I’ve just never chosen to spend it... until now.”
Merideth immediately sat up, dropping her foot to the floor and scooting to the edge of the sofa. “Now?” she repeated, then quickly shook her head, shoving out a hand to stop Mandy before she could reply. “Oh, puh-l-e-e-ease tell me you’re not going to buy some new exotic breed of cattle to run, or build some new monstrosity of a barn on the Double-Cross?”
Mandy turned back, glancing first at Sam, then Merideth. “No. I’m going to buy the Circle Bar.”
Merideth bolted to her feet while Sam’s eyes widened in shock. Both women were more than familiar with the Circle Bar, the ranch that bordered their own, and with the feud that had raged between the two for four generations.
It was Sam who found her tongue first. “You’re going to buy the Circle Bar? B-but why?” she stammered.
“Because I’ve heard that it might be for sale,” Mandy replied, lifting her chin, praying her two sisters would leave it at that. But she should have known better. Merideth, especially, would never accept such a vague response.
“Reason enough if you had a need for it...which you don’t.” Merideth narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “So what’s the real reason behind your interest in the Circle Bar? Do you think that it will bring Jes—”
“No!” Mandy all but shouted to keep Merideth from fully saying the name out loud. “I’m buying it for Jaime. He has a right to some portion of his heritage.”
The quietest and at times the most softhearted of the three, Sam moved to Mandy’s side, draping a sympathetic arm over her sister’s shoulder. “Jaime doesn’t need the Circle Bar,” she comforted. “He’s got you and the Double-Cross. He doesn’t need anything from the Barristers.”
Though she understood Sam’s reasoning and appreciated the show of support, Mandy stepped from beneath her sister’s arm, tightening her fingers around the ceramic mug. “I think he does...or will, at the very least. I can’t give him his father, but I can give him a link with his past.”
Merideth lifted her hands heavenward, then dropped them limply to her sides in frustration. “It’s a good thing Daddy’s gone because if he heard you talking such nonsense, he’d lock you in your room for the rest of your life!”
Mandy turned her eyes on Merideth, meeting her sister’s gaze steadily. “But that’s just it. Daddy is gone. He can’t stop me from doing what I want anymore.” She set her mug on the desk, then rounded it, dropping onto the sofa next to Merideth. “There’ve been rumors since Wade Barrister’s death that the Circle Bar might be put up for sale. If anyone deserves to own it, Jaime does.”
“Whether that’s true or not is irrelevant,” Merideth argued. “You know as well as I do that Margo Barrister would never sell the Circle Bar to a McCloud.”
A sly smile turned up the corner of Mandy’s mouth. “She’ll never know until it’s too late.”
Merideth reared back, looking at Mandy askance. “And how in the world do you think you can buy the ranch without Margo being the wiser? After all, she is Wade’s widow.”
“I’ve already thought all this out. I’m going to talk to my lawyer tomorrow. I’m going to request that he set up a dummy corporation, one that can’t possibly be traced back to me. The corporation will buy the property, then, when Jaime’s of age, I’ll change the deed to his name. He’ll have an inheritance of sorts. Something that no one can deny him.”
Merideth, who prided herself on her ability to work a situation to her favor, acknowledged Mandy’s cleverness with a spattering of applause, then rubbed her palms together with glee. “Margo will be furious!”
Mandy’s smile broadened. “Yes, she will won’t she?”
Merideth fell back against the sofa, hooting at the ceiling. “Oh, I hope I’m there to see her face when she finds out the news. The old biddy. It’ll serve her right for all her wicked ways.”
Sam didn’t accept the news with the same enthusiasm. She, too, crossed to the sofa and sank down next to Mandy, concern for her sister wrinkling her forehead. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing? Sometimes it’s best to let the past alone. You might be borrowing trouble if you go through with this. Margo won’t take something like this lying down.”
Mandy slipped her hand into Sam’s and squeezed. “But it will be too late for her to do anything about it. The land will be mine by then. The damage will already be done.”
Merideth sat up and stretched her hand across Mandy’s lap to add hers to those of her sisters. “Well, I for one stand behind you. I may not agree with your reasons for buying the Circle Bar, but I certainly respect your right to do what you want with the money Daddy left you. In fact, I think it’s rather like poetic justice, don’t you?” She glanced up at the portrait of her father and smiled. “In fact, darling Daddy is probably turning over in his grave right now.”
Mandy stepped from her lawyer’s office and paused just outside the door. She released her pent-up breath in a long shuddery sigh. She’d done it. She’d set the wheels in motion. She’d signed all the papers required to set up the dummy corporation and she’d given her lawyer power of attorney to act on her behalf. Now the wait began.
She caught her lower lip between her teeth as the implications behind her actions set in. Had she done the right thing? she worried silently. Was she in fact borrowing trouble as Sam had suggested? She gave herself a firm shake and made herself take that first step toward the bank of elevators at the end of the long hall and the journey home to the Double-Cross.
No, she told herself firmly. Jaime deserved the Circle Bar. He’d been denied enough in his short life. He was due an inheritance, a part of his heritage denied by the illegitimacy of his birth.
Caught up in thoughts of the trouble that might lie ahead, Mandy unconsciously glanced up as the elevator dinged its arrival. She froze on that spot of carpet, a good thirty feet from the elevator door as she watched a man step through the opening. He turned immediately to the left without glancing her way...but not before she caught a glimpse of his face; of that strong profile shadowed by a black Stetson; of that quirk of mouth and long purposeful stride that defied anyone who was of a mind to challenge him.
Jesse.
Oh, God! she cried silently, tightening her hands into fists at her sides. What was he doing here? And why now?
His step slowed and his shoulders veered slightly as if he was going to turn. Mandy sucked in a sharp breath and quickly ducked down a hallway on her right. Flattening herself against the wall, she listened, holding her breath, but her heartbeat thrummed in her ears, drowning out all other sounds. She squeezed her eyes shut, praying that he would go on in the way he’d started and that she could escape unseen.
Hands hot and damp against the cool walls, she waited, listening, silently praying for what seemed like an eternity against the sound of his approach. Five minutes passed, each second like a silent bomb exploding within her head. Knowing she couldn’t hide there forever, weak with fear, she eased down the wall and braved a quick look down the hall.
Empty.
She sagged back against the wall in relief. Then, with an effort, she pushed herself upright and ducked around the corner, running away from the elevator and toward the stairwell at the end of the hall.
Tearing down ten flights of stairs at high speed was nothing compared to her fear of exposure.
“You’re sure it was him?”
Mandy whirled, flattening her hands on her father’s desk, her green eyes wild as she met Merideth’s doubtful look. “Yes, I’m sure! He stood less than thirty feet away.”
Sam stepped behind the desk and looped an arm around Mandy’s shoulders. “It could be only coincidental that he’s returned,” she murmured soothingly. “It may have nothing to do with Jaime at all.”
“I don’t care why he’s back,” Mandy wailed, refusing to be comforted. “I’ve got to protect my son.”
Sam shared a look with Merideth, and Merideth came from the opposite side of the desk to tuck her hand through the bend at Mandy’s elbow. For all her selfishness, Merideth was a McCloud and together she and Sam, as they always had in the past, formed a solid wall of support around their sister. “He can’t hurt Jaime, Mandy,” she insisted, her voice filled with a conviction that Mandy didn’t share. “We won’t let him. Besides, Jesse doesn’t even know he fathered a son.”
Mandy lifted her head and turned tear-filled eyes to Merideth. “But what if he finds out? What if he tries to take Jaime away from me?”
Merideth fought back a shudder, refusing to give in to the fear that Mandy’s questions drew. She’d learned well from her father that a show of fear was a sign of weakness...and Merideth McCloud had used that lesson well, always displaying an impenetrable confidence that had served her well as she fought her way through the ranks of ambitious actors to capture one of the leading roles on a daytime soap opera.
Mandy had learned that lesson, too, but at the moment was too shaken to remember it. Merideth knew it was up to her to give her the slap she needed to remind her. “So what are you going to do?” she asked in disgust. She knew she sounded harsh, but in her mind, the situation called for it. “Just hand Jaime over to him without putting up a fight?”
Mandy whirled, her expression one of shock. “Of course not!”
“Then quit thinking about what might happen and focus on the facts. Jaime is your son. You gave birth to him, you raised him alone without help from Jesse or anyone else. Jesse had no place in his life other than planting a seed.”
“But what if he takes me to court? What if he tries to establish his parental rights?”
Merideth tossed up her hands in frustration. “And what judge in the country would settle those rights on him?” She grabbed Mandy’s hands and squeezed them between her own. “He’s your son, Mandy. Not Jesse’s.”
Mandy clung to the lifeline Merideth offered. “I know that. I do. But if he finds out—?”
Merideth squeezed her hands, silencing her. “Come back to New York with me. You and Jaime can stay with me until the dust settles and we see what Jesse’s intentions are.”
Slowly Mandy squared her shoulders, pulling her hands from Merideth’s. “No. That would be running from trouble. And no McCloud ever runs from trouble.”
Tossing back her head, Merideth laughed, the melodious sound filling what once had been Lucas McCloud’s office. “That’s my girl! I knew you had it in you.”
Mandy frowned, eyeing Merideth suspiciously, realizing too late that Merideth’s taunts were all an act to make her sister see reason. “You’re a brat, you know that, don’t you?” Mandy grumbled. “You always were.”
Merideth fluffed her hair with a playful, self-satisfied grin. “That’s what they tell me,” she said proudly and moved to flop down on the leather sofa that faced the desk.
Mandy continued to frown at Merideth, but Merideth merely folded her hands behind her head and preened, proud of her accomplishment. She crossed her bare feet at the ankles, wiggling toes painted a garish red before adding, “And don’t worry. I’ll stick around for a while just in case you need reminding that you’re a McCloud.”
Mandy’s brows shot up. “You can’t do that. You’ve got to get back to New York and your job!”
Merideth lifted a shoulder in a careless shrug. “It’ll be there when I get back,” she replied, confident of her importance to the soap opera she starred in.
“You don’t need to stay,” Sam interjected, stepping forward to hook a hip on the corner of the desk. “I’ll be here as backup if Mandy needs me.”
Merideth arched a brow, turning her gaze on Sam. Slowly, her lips curved in a proud smile. “I’d forgotten that the newly graduated and highly competent Dr. Samantha McCloud was setting up her veterinary practice on the Double-Cross.” She lifted her hands, diamonds glittering, and let them drop. “Well, then I guess my services aren’t needed.” She turned to Mandy. “You’ll be in good hands with Sam to look out for you and I’m only a telephone call away.” Lazily she stood, stretching her arms above her head with catlike grace before moving to gather her two sisters into a loose embrace. After hugging them both, she stepped back and thrust out a hand, palm up. “One for all and all for one,” she challenged. “The Three Musketeers.”
Laughing, Sam and Mandy each slapped a hand on top of Merideth’s. “Always,” they echoed in unison.
Jesse made the turn off the highway and passed below the wrought-iron archway that marked the entrance to the Circle Bar and headed for the house. The Big House. That was how the Barrister home was referred to by those who lived and worked on the Circle Bar.
Though he’d thought himself immune to the past, Jesse could feel the muscles of his stomach tightening while beads of sweat broke out on his upper lip. With a muttered curse of self-condemnation, he dragged his wrist beneath his nose and glared through the windshield at the road ahead. He took his foot off the accelerator and eased on the brake, bringing the truck to a stop at the crest of the hill that overlooked the valley.
Spotlighted by a brilliant summer sun, the two-story Georgian-style mansion below him looked as out of place as Jesse had always felt while living on the Circle Bar. Instead of the carefully groomed lawns with drooping magnolias and oaks heavy with moss that one would expect surrounding such a structure, the home was bordered by pastures of grazing Hereford cattle and hills covered with rock, cedar and cactus.
Margo Barrister might have lost the war when she’d failed to persuade Wade Barrister to move to Atlanta after their marriage more than forty years before, but she’d won a battle by haranguing him until he’d finally torn down the original Barrister homestead and replaced it with this monstrosity, a testament to Margo Barrister’s roots in the more genteel south.
The thought of Margo pushed a scowl across Jesse’s face. Mrs. Barrister. That’s what she’d insisted that he call her. Not Mother—God forbid that she ever admit that he was Wade’s son—not even Margo. She’d accept nothing less than impersonal formality from him.
Hate curled in his stomach like a doubled-up fist at the memory. He’d never called her “Mrs. Barrister” as she demanded. He’d never referred to her in any way at all. It had been easy enough to avoid, since she’d refused him entrance in her home from the day of his arrival on the Circle Bar.
His frown deepened as he remembered that day. Margo had screamed obscenities, ranted and raved when Wade had brought his fourteen-year-old bastard home with him. She had refused to allow Jesse even to cross the threshold, demanding instead that Wade take him to the bunkhouse to live with the wranglers who worked the Circle Bar. And that’s exactly where Jesse had lived until the night he’d left the Circle Bar, and Texas, almost thirteen years before.
No, avoiding Margo had been easy.
But this confrontation, the one awaiting him in the valley below, he knew he couldn’t avoid. Shaking off the unpleasant memories, he shifted back into gear, eased off the clutch and started downward to the Big House.
Through the gleaming windows of her formal living room, Margo caught a glimpse of a cloud of dust swirling over the hill. Stiffening, she slowly placed on the table the vase of flowers she’d just arranged and moved to peer out of the window. Pulling back the silk draperies, she craned for a better view.
“Damn,” she swore under her breath. Though she didn’t recognize the black truck that kicked up the cloud of dust, she knew who rode inside. Jesse. He was back to claim his inheritance.
Her lips quivered in silent rage. He was back to claim the Circle Bar. Wade had left her the house when he’d died, but not the land it stood on. He’d left that to the son of that Mexican whore of his! That Wade would dare to insult her so publicly, to flaunt his bastard child for all the world to see, to strip her of the very land, the dynasty that opened doors for her in Austin society, made her see red.
She placed a hand against her heart, forcing herself to take a deep calming breath. It wouldn’t do for Jesse to read her disgust, her anger...her desperation. She needed him, whether she cared to admit it or not. She didn’t know what his plans were. Not yet, at any rate. He had made no contact with her since Wade’s lawyer had notified him of Wade’s death and of his subsequent inheritance.
Would he sell the Circle Bar? she wondered fleetingly. Or would he move back and work the place himself as Wade had wanted? Her stomach convulsed. The very thought of having to watch that miserable bastard walk her land was too appalling even to consider. She hoped he planned to sell. If he did, she’d buy the land and the Barrister dynasty would go on, just as it had in the past, except with Margo at the helm.
But would he sell to her? she wondered as she monitored his approach. Her fingers curled into a fist at her side, her manicured nails cutting into the tender flesh of her palm as she watched the truck roll to a stop in front of her home.
Immediately, she forced her fingers to relax. She could handle Jesse Barrister. Hadn’t she managed to manipulate Wade for years? She watched as Jesse stepped down from his truck and was struck anew by his resemblance to her dead husband. Wade had done this to her on purpose, she thought spitefully as Jesse stepped up onto the wide veranda and disappeared from her sight. He’d left his land to his bastard son as one last stab at Margo because of her inability to give him an heir.
The doorbell chimed and Margo forced her fingers to release the drapes. Inhaling deeply, she drew herself erect, smoothing her hands down the front of her linen skirt, then lifting them to run her thumbs beneath the open collar of her matching blouse, composing herself for the confrontation ahead. Moving silently across the thick Aubusson carpets, she made her way to the front door and opened it, forcing a smile to her face.
“Why, Jesse!” she exclaimed in her southern drawl, as if unaware of his arrival. “What a nice surprise! Please come in,” she invited graciously, swinging the door wide.
Jesse Barrister was no fool. He recognized a wolf in sheep’s clothing when he saw one. His expression never once wavered as he met Margo’s gaze. “I can handle my business right here,” he said tersely.
“Business?” she repeated as she stepped back into the opening she’d created. “What business?”
“My inheritance, to be exact.” Jesse watched as she struggled to keep the false smile in place.
“You’ve seen Wade’s lawyer, then?”
“I just left his office. He showed me the old man’s will.” Even now Jesse couldn’t voice the man’s name out loud.
“I know this must be difficult for you,” she murmured sympathetically, “coming back after all these years. I know how unhappy you were here. If you like, I can purchase the land from you and free you of whatever responsibilities Wade has burdened you with and whatever obligations you might feel. That way you could get on with your life with the least bother.”
Jesse eyed her suspiciously from beneath the shadow of his Stetson’s brim. He didn’t know what Margo was up to, but it certainly was no good. He knew her far too well. Although selling the land had been his plan when he’d left the lawyer’s office, something made him hesitate.
“I don’t know,” he replied slowly. He turned and looked over his shoulder at the sprawling land, the grazing cattle, the distant hills, the corrals where he’d sweated and worked alongside the other wranglers.
He’d hated every minute of the time he’d spent on this ranch and had been reluctant to return. He’d thought to come here, tell Margo his plans, then get the hell out of town, leaving behind the past and all the bad memories tied to this place.
But now he wasn’t so sure.
Slowly, he turned back to Margo. “I’ll be staying here for a while. Just until I decide what I want to do with the place.”
Margo stepped back, lifting her hand again in invitation. “Well, then you must stay here. I’ll have Maria prepare a room for you.”
Jesse snorted. “I don’t think so. The bunkhouse suits me just fine.”
“Oh, that’s not necessary,” Margo hurried to assure him. “You’ll be much more comfortable in the Big House. Besides, I’m sure that’s what Wade would have wanted.”
“Would he?” Jesse’s lips curled in a scowl. “Somehow I doubt that.”
Margo struggled to think of something to say. “W-well, if you’re sure...” She lifted a hand to point the way. “The bunkhouse is—”
Jesse turned his back on her, cutting her off. “I know the way.”
Margo moved to the window and stood, her eyes narrowed, her lips pressed tightly together, and watched Jesse walk back to his truck. Tall, broad shouldered, that cocky swagger. She shuddered in revulsion at the sight. With the exception of the darker color of his skin, the slight Spanish accent, he could have easily been mistaken for Wade Barrister at the same age. And that alone was enough to draw Margo’s ire.
She’d married Wade Barrister forty years before, blinded by his handsome face and awed by his wealth, thinking herself in love with him. It hadn’t taken long for the veneer of imagined love to wear thin. Wade Barrister was a mean-spirited man, obsessed with his own importance and the idea of producing an heir to carry on the Barrister name. When ten years had passed and it became obvious that Margo was barren, he had never slept with her again.
She was sure that Wade would have demanded a divorce years ago and taken his chances for an heir with another wife, but there was a second facet to Wade’s personality that was as strong as his desire to produce an heir. He was greedy. By Texas law, he would have been forced to divide all his property equally with Margo as part of the divorce settlement, and Wade would never willingly give up anything that he considered his. Especially the Circle Bar.
So instead, he’d chosen to take his pleasure with other women, all of whom Margo secretly referred to as his “whores.”
And it was a particular Mexican whore who had finally produced the desired heir.
At the thought of Jesse, Margo’s lips thinned again.
Their first meeting hadn’t gone at all as she’d planned. She’d hoped that Jesse would be as anxious to unload the Circle Bar as she was to buy it. His hesitancy sent the first shiver of fear skating down her spine.
She dropped the curtain, blocking him from view, and whirled away from the window. Well, she assured herself, she might have lost the first battle, but she had in no way lost the war.
Jesse stood in the center of the small glen, his hands braced against his hips, his chest tight with unwanted memories. Darkness surrounded him, taunting him with shadowed ghosts he thought he had put to rest years before. He inhaled deeply, determined to keep the images at bay, and filled his senses with the bouquet of odors floating on the night air. The clean, sweet scent of freshly cut hay, the heady scent of honeysuckle that grew wild on a distant fence, the musty smell of damp leaves.
With a sigh, he lifted his face to the heavens and closed his eyes. Though he tried to keep the images from forming, they pushed at him from every side. A blanket spread on the ground, and Mandy beneath him, her body hot and damp against his. With eyes still glazed with passion, she looked up at him while a soft smile of pleasure curved the corners of her full and sensuous mouth. He could almost feel her hands on his back as she soothed his fevered flesh with soft caresses of love.
Sucking in an angry breath, he fisted his hands against his eyes. But instead of blocking the image, he only added another memory. As the vision formed, the smell of gunpowder rose, choking him, and his body recoiled with the impact of the blast that had slammed into him that night so many years ago. Instinctively, he raised a hand to his shoulder, feeling again the bullet ripping through his flesh and the fiery pain that had dragged him to the ground.
But that pain was nothing compared to the pain that tore at his heart as the memory of her voice echoed through his mind.
No, Jesse, I can’t.
He lifted his fists at the dark heavens and shook them. “Damn you, Mandy!” he roared. “Damn you for choosing your father over me!”
Two
Jesse stopped his horse alongside Pete’s and dug a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket. He shook one out, then offered the pack to Pete, the foreman of the Circle Bar.
Pete eyed him skeptically. “I prefer to roll my own,” he grumbled disagreeably, but took one with a muttered, “obliged.” In keeping with his own style of smoking, though, Pete pinched the filter off and tossed it to the ground.
Hiding a smile, Jesse clamped his own cigarette between his lips and dug a hand in his jeans pocket, working a lighter from its depths. He’d always had a fondness for Pete Dugan. In some ways, Pete had been more a father to him than Wade Barrister had ever been. It was Pete who’d picked Jesse up off the ground after his first bronc had thrown him, and it was Pete who had stuck Jesse’s head in a horse trough when as a teenager he’d come home drunk the first time. It was also Pete who’d found Jesse the night he’d ridden his horse back into the barn after Lucas McCloud had put a bullet in his left shoulder.
Though Pete had cussed a blue streak, trying to convince Jesse he needed a doctor, he’d cleaned the wound and patched Jesse up as best as he could, then stood on the porch of the bunkhouse and watched Jesse drive away into the night.
Frowning at the unwanted memory, Jesse raked a thumb along the lighter’s wheel, then cupped his hands around the flame as he drew it to the cigarette’s end. Inhaling deeply, he passed the lighter to Pete, then blew out a thin stream of smoke and the memories along with it.
“Looks like you’ve got a good crop of calves this year,” Jesse offered, gesturing to the cattle that grazed in the pasture below.
“Cain’t complain.”
Jesse nodded, hearing the pride behind the simple reply. “Who’s giving the orders around here now that the old man’s gone?”
Pete snorted. “Who do ya think?”
“And you’re taking them?” Jesse asked in surprise.
“I listen, say yes’m real polite like, then do as I damn well please.”
Jesse laughed, then leaned over to thump Pete on the back. “I always did like your style.”
“Never did cotton to takin’ orders from no woman. ’Specially one that cain’t tell a bull from a steer.” Pete twisted his head around just far enough to squint a look at Jesse through the smoke that curled from between his gnarled fingers. “You gonna be takin’ over the reins now that you’re back?”
Jesse shrugged, then squeezed the burned-out butt of his cigarette between two fingers before tossing it to the ground. “I suppose. At least until I decide what to do with the place.”
“You mean you might sell?”
“I don’t know,” Jesse replied uncertainly. “I’ve got my own place up in Oklahoma now. Kind of hard to manage two places that far apart.”
Pete shook his head, turning his gaze back on the cattle. “Cain’t imagine the Circle Bar belongin’ to anybody but a Barrister. They’ve owned this land long as I can remember.”
They sat in silence, pondering the reality of that a moment, before Jesse said, “The old lady offered to buy me out.” Though Pete’s gaze never once wavered from the cattle, Jesse saw the tension mount in his shoulders on hearing of Margo’s offer. “She said she’d do it to free me from any responsibilities or obligations that Wade might have burdened me with. Pretty generous of her, don’t you think?”
Pete didn’t answer, but continued to stare at the cattle below, his mouth set in a thin, grim line.
“Well, don’t you think it’s generous?” Jesse prodded.
Slowly, Pete turned his gaze on Jesse. “Margo Barrister never done nothin’ in her life to benefit anybody but herself and you damn well know it, so what’s your point in askin’ me a damn-fool question like that?”
Jesse chuckled, then smooched to his horse, guiding him onto the narrow path that led toward the pasture below. “Just checking to make sure she hadn’t softened up over the years,” he called over his shoulder.
“Margo Barrister?” Pete snorted, but guided his own horse in behind Jesse’s. “They’ll be crankin’ homemade ice cream in hell the day that old woman’s heart softens.”
Pete and Jesse were headed back to the Circle Bar’s headquarters when Pete suddenly pulled up and held up a hand, indicating for Jesse to stop too. “Look over yonder,” Pete murmured in a low voice, nodding toward the lake that lay about a quarter of a mile to the west.
Jesse looked but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. “What?”
“Down by the water’s edge under that weepin’ willow.”
At that moment Jesse saw a flash of red streak from the bank and land with a silent plop, sending ripples on the water’s surface radiating toward the distant shore. “Think we caught us a trespasser?” Jesse asked.
“Atta’d be my guess,” Pete replied dryly.
“Well, I guess we better remind him that he’s poaching on private property.”
“Damn-fool kids,” Pete muttered irritably, leading the way. “If I’ve told ‘em once, I’ve told ’em a hunnerd times to keep off this land. And danged if I didn’t just bait that hole myself last week.”
Chuckling, Jesse fell in behind him, already sympathizing with whoever was fishing Pete’s favorite spot. By the time Pete got through with him, the poacher’s skin would be raw from the tongue-lashing he would give him.
“Hey! You there!” Pete yelled, reining his horse to a stop just shy of the willow tree.
A young boy, about twelve or so in Jesse’s estimation, whirled, his eyes round with surprise. Immediately, he started scrambling, trying to gather up his fishing gear in order to make a run for it.
Jesse was out of the saddle and on the ground, his hand closed on the back of the boy’s collar before the kid made three steps.
“Now hold on a minute,” Jesse warned as the boy started twisting and fighting, trying to shake loose. When his warning wasn’t heeded, Jesse grabbed the boy around the middle and hauled him hard against his side. “Now dammit, I said hold on!” Jesse yelled.
The boy immediately stilled, though Jesse could feel the tension in him beneath his arm. Not wanting to frighten the boy any more than he already was, Jesse said quietly, “Now, I’m not gonna hurt you, I just want to talk to you, all right?” When the boy slowly nodded, Jesse loosened his hold and turned him around to face him, shifting his hands to the boy’s arms.
The boy jerked his head up to meet Jesse’s gaze, his chin jutting in defiance. Jesse couldn’t help but admire the kid’s spunk. He reminded him a little of himself at that same age. But he knew he had to put the fear of God in the kid. He couldn’t have him or any other trespassers thinking that the Circle Bar was open for poaching.
“Do you know that you’re on private property?” Jesse asked, forcing a level of sternness into his voice.
“I didn’t do nothin’ wrong,” the boy replied defensively. “I was just fishin’, and I even threw back everything I caught.”
“The point is, you’re trespassing. This land belongs to the Barristers and they don’t welcome uninvited guests.”
The boy raised his chin a little higher, making the cleft there a little more obvious. “The Barristers don’t scare me none,” he scoffed.
It was all Jesse could do not to laugh. “They don’t, huh?”
“Nah. Besides, there ain’t no Barristers left, ‘cept the old lady and she’s nothin’ but an old bit—” He caught himself just shy of finishing the word, and Jesse had to wonder if he’d done so to avoid having his mouth washed out with soap in the event his mother caught wind of him cussing. “Nothin’ but an old bat,” the boy said instead.
Jesse had to fight hard to keep from grinning. “She is, huh?”
“Yes, sir, and that’s a fact.”
“Well, now, what if I was to tell you I was a Barrister?”
The boy’s eyes widened before he could stop them, then narrowed to suspicious slits. “There ain’t no more Barristers. Wade was the last, and he died more than a month ago.”
“That’s true enough...at least the part about old Wade dying.” Jesse assessed the boy a moment. “If I let you go, will you promise not to run?”
The boy nodded warily, obviously still wondering about whether Jesse was in fact a Barrister.
Jesse loosened his grip on the boy’s arms, then slowly dropped his hands. When the kid didn’t bolt, Jesse eased a sigh of relief. “I’m Jesse Barrister, now who are you?”
“Jaime. Jaime McCloud,” the boy added, squaring his shoulders proudly.
Jesse sucked in a sharp breath. A McCloud? Could he be Sam’s or Merideth’s son? Could he be... He took another hard look at the boy, taking in the cleft in the chin, the umber stain of his skin, the cowlick that kicked his hair up at the center of his forehead. No, he told himself. He couldn’t be. The eyes were wrong...no—they were just right, he realized, his heart slamming hard against his chest.
They were the same unique shade of green as Mandy’s.
Jesse jerked his head up to look at Pete, who remained astride his horse. But Pete’s jaw was set, his eyes narrowed, and he refused to acknowledge Jesse’s unasked question.
“What’re you gonna do to me?” the boy asked, drawing Jesse’s attention back to his face. To Jesse it was like looking in a mirror—or rather at a picture of himself at that same age.
“I—” Jesse had to clear his throat before he could answer. “I’m going to take you home to your parents.”
The boy’s shoulders visibly slumped.
“Do you have a problem with that?” Jesse asked.
“No, sir. It’s just that I know I’m gonna get a whuppin’ for sure this time,” he mumbled miserably.
“And who’s going to whip you?” Jesse asked, frowning, thinking that if Lucas McCloud dared to lay a hand on the kid, he’d personally make him pay.
“My mama. She’s liable to skin me for sure.”
“Does your mama make a habit of whipping you?”
“No, sir. But then I’ve never been caught on Barrister land before.”
Jesse’s frown deepened. It seemed that some things hadn’t changed over the years. The feud between the Barristers and the McClouds still raged on.
Mandy tossed the last square of hay in the manger and closed the stall door behind her. Tucking the wire cutters into the hip pocket of her jeans, she strode angrily for the barn door. As soon as she found him, she was going to have a serious talk with her son. This was the third time this week he’d missed doing his chores.
When she stepped through the barn door, she put a hand at her brow to shade her eyes from the glaring sunlight overhead. Glancing around, she looked for a sign of Jaime. Unfortunately, the only person she saw was Gabe, her foreman, who was closing the gate on the corral behind him.
“Hey, Gabe!” she called, heading his way. “Have you seen Jaime?”
“No, ma’am. At least not lately,” he added vaguely.
As she reached him, Mandy pursed her lips and folded her arms beneath her breasts. She was accustomed to her foreman and the other wranglers who worked the Double-Cross covering up her son’s escapades. “Okay, so when did you see him last?”
Gabe dragged off his battered cowboy hat to scratch at his head. “Well, I’d guess that would’ve been this mornin’,” he replied uneasily.
“And where was he?”
“In the barn, saddlin’ his horse.”
“And where was he headed?”
Gabe scratched his head again. “Cain’t rightly say, though he did have his fishin’ pole with him.”
Mandy dropped her arms to her sides and rolled her eyes heavenward. “I swear I’m going to chain that boy to the house if he doesn’t stop slipping off like this without getting his chores done first.”
“Now, Miss Mandy,” Gabe began.
“Don’t you ‘Miss Mandy’ me,” she scolded, shaking an accusing finger beneath his nose. “You know as well as I do that chores come first and it’s high time Jaime started acting more responsibly. He’s twelve years old, after all, and you and the boys have got to quit covering for him.” When Gabe dipped his chin, she let out a huff of breath. “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she muttered. “Don’t give me that hangdog look.”
Gabe lifted his head a tad, just high enough to peer at Mandy from beneath a thick overhang of bushy brows. “The boy’s just got a touch of spring fever, is all. He’s entitled to play hooky now and again. He’s a good kid.”
If missing his chores had been the only reason for her anger, Mandy might have agreed with Gabe, because Jaime was a good kid. But below the anger lay a thick layer of fear. She wanted to keep her son close to home and out of harm’s way until she knew for certain that Jesse Barrister had left town.
Hooking an arm through Gabe’s, she headed for the barn again. “I know. It’s just that—”
At that moment, Mandy heard the pounding of hoofbeats and looked back over her shoulder to see two riders loping across the pasture toward them. She immediately recognized Jaime’s sorrel mare and relief weakened her knees. She shifted her gaze, squinting against the glaring sunlight in an attempt to identify the other rider.
As recognition dawned, she dug her fingers into Gabe’s arm. “Oh, my God! It’s Jesse!”
“Don’t you worry none, Miss Mandy,” Gabe hurried to assure her. “I’ll handle this.”
Mandy stood at Gabe’s side, watching as the riders drew near. “No,” she murmured in a low voice as she withdrew her arm from his. “No,” she repeated with a shake of her head. “I need to deal with this alone.”
Though she could see that Gabe wanted to argue the point, he gave in with a sigh of defeat. “I’ll be in the barn,” he told her as he turned away. “If you need me, all you gotta do is give me a holler.”
“Thanks, Gabe,” she whispered, her gaze riveted on her son’s face. She watched as he slowed his horse to first a trot, then a walk, studying his expression in an attempt to see if he showed any signs of physical or emotional damage. But all she saw was a reddening of his cheeks and downcast eyes that spoke of nothing but guilt.
But one look at Jesse’s face and she knew that her secret was out. Dark accusing eyes pierced her from beneath the shadow of his black Stetson. Quickly she averted her gaze, focusing on her son again as the two riders reined their horses to a stop in front of her.
“Is there a problem?” she asked.
Jaime kept his head down, refusing to answer.
“I caught the boy trespassing on Barrister land,” Jesse replied tersely.
Mandy’s mouth fell open. “Jaime McCloud! What in heaven’s name were you doing on the Circle Bar?”
If possible, Jaime’s chin dug a deeper hole in his chest. “I didn’t mean no harm,” he muttered miserably. “I was just doin’ a little fishin’.”
“Whether you meant harm or not, you were breaking the rules. Both the Barristers’ and mine.” She firmed her lips to keep them from trembling, already fearing the repercussions of her son’s disobedience. “Take your horse to the barn and ask Gabe to take care of him for you, then I want you to go straight to the house and wait for me there.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he mumbled dejectedly and turned his horse toward the barn to do her bidding.
Mandy watched Jaime ride away, feeling the heat of Jesse’s gaze on her back. Swallowing hard, she turned to face him.
Looking at him was difficult, for he hadn’t changed much over the years, his handsome face the mirror image of her son’s. All the old memories, the conflicting emotions he’d left her with, came rushing back and she steeled herself against their sting. “I apologize for my son’s behavior and I assure you this will never happen again.”
“He’s mine, isn’t he?”
The chilling words sent ice through Mandy’s veins. Though she had feared this confrontation and had done everything in her power to avoid it, nothing had prepared her for the hate she saw in Jesse’s eyes. At that moment, she knew she stood to lose Jaime, the son she had given birth to and raised on her own. But denying Jesse’s accusation would do no good. “Jaime is a McCloud,” she told him firmly. “I gave birth to him and I raised him alone without help from you or anybody else.”
Which answered at least one of the questions that had haunted Jesse on the long ride to the Double-Cross. Mandy had never married.
“Through no fault of mine,” Jesse returned. He swung down from the saddle, fisting his hand in the reins as he strode to face her, his face contorted in anger. “Why didn’t you tell me I had a son?”
“Tell you!” Mandy repeated, taking a disbelieving step back. “You weren’t here, remember? You took off without telling anyone where you’d gone.”
Knowing she was right only made Jesse that much more angry. “I’m here now,” he warned. “And I intend to claim the boy as my own.”
When he whirled in the direction of the barn, Mandy lunged, grabbing for his arm. “Jesse, wait!” He snapped his head around, his eyes burning a hole in the fingers that held his arm. Mandy quickly dropped her hand to her side. “Please,” she begged him. “Don’t do this.”
His eyes narrowed dangerously. “Why? Are you ashamed for the boy to know that his father is half-Mexican?”
Mandy’s eyes filled with frustrated tears. “No, it isn’t that. It’s just that he’s so young, he wouldn’t understand.”
“What wouldn’t he understand? That I’m his father or that his mother has kept that secret from him all these years?” Jesse took a threatening step closer. “Which is it, Mandy? Or has the boy never questioned his father’s absence?”
Mandy closed her eyes and pressed her trembling fingers to her temples. “He’s asked questions,” she murmured. “I explained his Spanish heritage to him, but I told him that his father died before he was born.”
“And I would be dead if Lucas’s aim had been a little better.”
Mandy paled at the memory.
“But I didn’t die, Mandy,” he reminded her. “I’m here and I’m going to claim my son whether you like it or not.” He moved to his horse and swung up in the saddle. Folding his arms across the saddle horn, he leaned down, putting his face within a foot of Mandy’s. “You’ve got twenty-four hours. You can pick the time and you can pick the place, but we’re going to tell him. When you’ve made your decision, you can reach me at the bunkhouse on the Circle Bar.”
Having issued the ultimatum, Jesse swung his horse around in a tight circle, dug his spurs into the gelding’s sides and galloped off, leaving Mandy staring after him in a cloud of choking dust
“Did you know he was my son?”
Pete draped his bridle over a hook and turned to Jesse on a weary sigh. “I suspected as much, though I never knowed for sure. The McClouds are pretty tightlipped about their personal affairs.”
“So no one knows?”
Pete lifted a shoulder before dragging his saddle off his horse’s lathered back. “Not long after you left, Lucas shipped Mandy off to stay with some cousin of his back east. She was gone more’n a year and when she come back, she had the boy in tow. Course he was nothin’ but a baby then. Rumor was she’d had an affair with some man she’d met while she was gone and he’d died before he could give the kid his name.”
“And people believed the story?”
“Why not? Nobody ever knew the two of you were sneakin’ around behind Lucas’s back, ’cept me.”
Jesse scowled at the mention of Lucas. “I didn’t see him when I was over there, though I kept expecting to feel the barrel of his rifle pressed against my back.”
Pete looked up in surprise. “You mean Lucas?” “Yeah,” Jesse muttered irritably. “Lucas.”
“Kinda‘ hard to do from the grave.”
Jesse jerked his head around to stare at Pete. “You mean Lucas is dead?”
“Been gone nigh on twelve years now. Had a heart attack not long after the girl brought the baby home to the Double-Cross.”
Shocked by the news, Jesse could only stare. “If Lucas is gone, then who’s running the place?”
“Mandy. With the help of Gabe, of course.”
Jesse dropped down on a bale of hay, his legs too weak to hold him. Lucas was gone, had been for twelve years. Jesse dropped his head in his hands on a groan. If only he’d stayed, he told himself, instead of hightailing it out of town. Without Lucas there to keep them apart, maybe he and Mandy could have been together.
No, Jesse, I can’t.
Mandy’s refusal seared its way through his mind and he raked his fingers through his hair as if he could tear the words from his memory. Mandy was the one who had sealed the end of their relationship, he reminded himself. Not Lucas.
He pushed himself to his feet. “I’m going to the bunkhouse,” he muttered to Pete. “You coming?”
Pete stared sadly at Jesse’s retreating back. “Yeah, I’ll be along as soon as I finish up here.”
“Maybe we should call Merideth,” Sam offered quietly.
Mandy whirled from the window and the darkness beyond. “And what could Merideth possibly do?”

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