(Calahan Cowboys 08) The Cowboy Soldier's Sons (11 page)

“Your texts were pretty clear,” Gage said. “Hello, Mother.” He hugged his mom a bit more warmly than Shaman had, Tempest noticed. Shaman hadn’t quite made the transition from wayward son to returning prodigal.

She understood those emotions. As much as Tempest had loved her, her mother hadn’t been a giving, maternal person. Bud Taylor hadn’t been a man she would have ever wanted to be close to, and she barely remembered her father. Sometimes Tempest thought she only remembered the memories her mother had shared of happier times, over too soon. It could be hard to be close to people when you hadn’t experienced close-knit bonds in your life, and she knew Shaman hadn’t felt close to his mother or father.

Millicent didn’t seem all that bad. Perhaps she’d mellowed over the years Shaman had been deployed. Tempest didn’t hold it against Millicent for wanting her to sign an agreement.

But it seemed as if Shaman wasn’t happy at the moment. “Hey,” she said, as they seated themselves at a big, round table. “Are you in shock?”

“I’m processing as fast as I can, doll.” He shook his head. “Are you still going to want to sleep in my bed? Because I kind of dig being with you.”

She laughed at his question. “Is that what’s bugging you? You’re afraid having twins makes me off-limits?”

“Can we order?” Millicent demanded. “You two can whisper later.”

Shaman snapped open the menu. “I just don’t know where I stand. It makes me crazy.”

“You are crazy,” Gage told his brother. “Thank you for taking him off our hands,” he said to Tempest. “He was the problem child.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Tempest grinned at her husband. “Split veggie fajitas with me?”

Chelsea smiled at Tempest. “I’m so glad you’re my sister-in-law now. Someone who understands the joys of living with a vegetarian.”

Millicent sighed. “Shaman, will you please go rescue Fitzgerald from that woman?”

They all looked in surprise at Millicent, then across the room. Fitzgerald sat under a TV in the bar, enjoying a tall drink and a pretty redhead who was chatting him up. For an elderly gentleman, Shaman thought, Fitzgerald was managing just fine.

“He looks happy enough to me. Fitzgerald can take care of himself, Mother.”

Tempest glanced at her mother-in-law, then turned her gaze to Shaman. “It wouldn’t hurt to shoo off his new friend, do you think, Shaman?”

He looked at her, surprised. “A man likes to have the attention of a pretty woman sometimes, Tempest. She’s not hurting anything.”

His wife gave him a small kick under the table and he blinked, realizing that she was trying to tell him something. He wasn’t certain what message he was supposed to be receiving but he sighed and got up. “Can’t a man have a little companionship?”

“No!” Chelsea and Millicent and Tempest said at once.

“I kind of hate to do this to the guy,” Shaman said. “It’s probably the first attention he’s had in years. I know I was a lonely man until you came into my life, Tempest. Thing about it is, if we weren’t pregnant, I’d be sitting over there with Fitzgerald.”

“I assure you,” Millicent said drily, “that Fitzgerald is not suffering from a lack of attention. I’d wheel my chair over there to help him out, but I have two sons at this table who can do the honors for their mother. But I can do it myself if I must.”

“Oh,” Shaman said, finally getting it. “Excuse me, ladies.”

He did his duty, noting that Fitzgerald seemed pleased with the intervention. Shaman tried diligently to process the fact that his mother was involved with her chauffeur, then decided it wasn’t any of his business. “All right,” he said, returning to the table. “The coast is clear. Fitzgerald is out of commission, and the lady will have to go find another gentleman to play with.”

Cat looked at him with big, round eyes. “Wow, Uncle Shaman. Don’t you know I’m not supposed to hear things like that? I’m even supposed to believe that babies are brought in by magic storks in the night.”

Shaman grinned at her. “That’s right, sweetie. You just keep on believing it, too.”

“Because if any boy ever tries to convince you that you should kiss him—” Gage began, but his daughter raised a hand to silence him.

“Dad, it’s uncool to bring it up all the time. I get it. Boys are icky.”

“That’s right,” Gage agreed.

“That’s right,” Chelsea said, “for now.”

“Boys are icky,” Tempest said, “until you find the right one.”

Everyone looked at her. Millicent stared, Chelsea stared, Gage stared, and Shaman smirked at his family, whose gazes then locked on him. “Well, of course I’m Mr. Right. What did you think? That Tempest is the kind of woman who has to settle for subpar?”

“Oh, brother,” Gage said.

Cat smiled at her uncle. “You are awesome, Uncle Shaman. That’s exactly what I told Tempest when I said she needed to come meet you. That’s when you were living in Italy, Tempest, remember?”

Shaman looked at his wife. “You came all the way back here for a blind date my niece arranged?”

He thought it was darling that Tempest blushed. “Are you going to order dinner or not?” she demanded.

He laughed. “I had no idea how much fun family could be.” Then he leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, deciding to quit worrying about their marriage for the moment.

He wanted her so much. It was an ache that never seemed to subside. Shaman ruminated on this, in a hazy glow of falling-in-love, until he realized that Bobby Taylor sat in a corner of the bar, watching them. The man was sizing them up, letting Shaman know he was aware of every move he made.

Shaman’s not-completely-healed wound started to itch and burn at the back of his head, and he instinctively reached out for Tempest’s hand. She was starting to mean the world to him—she was becoming his world—and the surge of undeniable killing rage he remembered from war flowed into him, burning with intensity. He recoiled from the memory, surprised—but only for a moment.

He’d protect her and his family at all costs.

He walked over to the man at the bar.

“Evening,” Taylor said, nodding to Shaman. “How’s the head?”

Shaman felt his blood boil. He had family here tonight, and wasn’t in the mood to have the discussion with Taylor he really wanted to have. “I’m assuming you decided your little job on my skull was necessary because of your sister.”

Taylor shrugged. “Didn’t say I did it, Phillips. Heard about it in town. I don’t know who clocked you.”

“Sure you don’t.” Shaman wondered if Taylor was certifiable or just working things through in his own vengeful way. “Saying it was you, why would you think busting open my grapefruit would get you even with Tempest?”

“Again, not saying I did anything to you. Why would I? But I could see getting her attention through the man she’s having a baby with.” Bobby glanced across the room at Tempest, who was watching them, her face frozen with an emotion that looked a lot like fear. “You know, Tempest never had anyone in her life who really loved her before.”

“I don’t believe this is about love.” Shaman stared at Taylor, holding back the urge to wring his neck here and now. “It’s about something else.”

“She stole from me. She stole from our family. My siblings and me should have had what was ours. She came along, and I guess Dad figured she was the right person to leave the whole thing to. I don’t understand that.”

“It doesn’t matter what Bud Taylor did. It was his money, his land. Tempest had nothing to do with his decision.”

“I see she hasn’t told you everything,” Taylor said. “The woman you call Tempest—my half sister, Zola—told our father that if he didn’t recognize her as his legal daughter, she’d sue him to take a paternity test.”

Shaman winced. “That doesn’t sound like Tempest.”

“Ask her.” Bobby lifted his glass of whiskey. “It was all about the money.”

“She makes enough to live all right.” Shaman didn’t know that for certain—they’d never discussed money—but everything he’d heard about Tempest seemed to indicate she did just fine on her own.

“You’d best talk to your wife. She spent enough time with Pop at the end of his life to turn his head, make him rewrite his will. And suddenly, all of us were out in the cold. How do you expect us to feel?”

Shaman wasn’t about to share that Tempest said she’d donated all the money. Taylor had to know; he’d been sitting in the booth that night when she had told her story. “I know this is a dumb question, but if your father built his stake from nothing, why don’t you do the same?”

“You don’t get it, do you? You’re just a farmhand, so you wouldn’t,” Taylor said dismissively. “Look, it’s biblical. The birthright should go to the child it belongs to, not be stolen away by an impostor.”

Shaman swallowed, trying to understand Taylor’s world view. “I don’t really care about the beef between you and your sister. I want you to leave her alone. She’s my wife now, and I will protect her and my family. And if that means taking you out, I’ll do that. I won’t lose any sleep over it, either.”

“I know.” Taylor put his glass on the counter. “Tough guy.”

Gage came to stand beside him, overhearing the last comment. “Tough guys. Plural.”

Taylor got up from the barstool. “Tell Zola her brother wants his due.”

“I’ll tell her nothing, and you won’t, either,” Shaman said. “That’s how this works. You say one word to Tempest and I beat the stuffing out of you.”

“And then I beat more stuffing out of you,” Gage said. “It will not be pleasant.”

“Yeah, I’m scared,” Taylor said. “But which one of us has a scar under his Stetson?” He sauntered from the bar, raising a hand to Tempest in a meaningful wave as he left.

“I’m going to kill him,” Shaman said.

“No, you’re not,” Gage told his brother. “He’ll step in it eventually, and we’ll get him locked up legally.”

“I’m worried about Tempest.” Cold snakes of fear wound through Shaman’s stomach.

“Yeah. She should probably come stay at Rancho Diablo. There’s a lot of companionship and stuff out there, and lots of babies. She’d probably enjoy having a bunch of women to gab with, anyway.”

“Maybe that’s a good idea.” They headed back to the table.

“What was that all about?” Millicent demanded. “You two looked like you were about to engage in fisticuffs. Can I point out that I’m in a wheelchair? I can’t knock your heads together as I once did.”

“Yeah,” Cat said, “Dad, you looked like a hulking bear. And Uncle Shaman was all puffed up like one of Uncle Jonas’s peacocks.”

Shaman looked at Tempest, seeing her pale face. “Hey, this is supposed to be a party. Let’s eat, everyone,” he said, as the food was served.

“What was that all about?” she whispered as he took his seat next to her.

“Nothing,” Shaman said, “nothing at all.”

Of course, if she ever learned that her half brother really had taken a whack at him, and Shaman hadn’t told her the truth, all bets were off. He had a feeling Tempest wasn’t the kind of woman who took being fibbed to very well. Still, he couldn’t be honest—how could a man tell his wife that her brother had in fact decked him?

He was afraid for her. He didn’t want her having any contact with Taylor. The thing about Tempest was that she’d confront Bobby, if she felt she needed to.

“So what do you think about going to see Kendall and Xav at Rancho Diablo?” Shaman asked his wife.

“I’m going out there tonight,” Millicent said. “Tempest can ride in the limo with me and Cat, if she likes.”

“Oh. I’ll stay with Shaman,” she said. “Thank you, though. I may drive out tomorrow to visit.”

Shaman completely lost his appetite. He kept seeing Taylor’s sweaty face. “I’d rather you go with Mom.”

“Yeah, Aunt Tempest, come with us! Nana Fiona’s knitting you some baby booties. And there’s almost always gingerbread.”

Tempest smiled, but looked at Shaman. “I think newlyweds should stay together.”

“I’ll drive out tomorrow for a bit, after the crews are done at Dark Diablo,” Shaman said.

“I’ll wait to ride with you, then.” Tempest picked up her fajita, dismissing the topic.

Shaman and Gage glanced at each other. Gage shrugged, and Shaman decided to drop the subject. For the moment.

But something was going to have to be done.

* * *

“S
HAMAN
,” Tempest said when they were alone that night, after Millicent and everyone had piled in either the limo or Gage’s truck to head back to Rancho Diablo. “We’ve been married less than forty-eight hours and you’re trying to send me away.” She ran her hands down his chest. Something had Shaman tense, taut, strung tight. She wanted him to relax and go back to being the man she’d known this summer.

The man who’d loved her every minute he could.

He moved her hands away from his chest. “Tempest, I don’t think it would come as a shock to you if I said that we don’t know each other very well. We don’t have a lot to build on.”

She blinked. “Oh, I see.”

He took a step back, his face creased with unhappiness. “Maybe we jumped into things a bit fast.”

She shook her head. “It’s more than that. It’s something else.”

“I wanted to give you my name.” He looked straight into her eyes and she saw shadows there, shadows she’d never noticed before. “I wanted to give my children my name.”

“Stop,” she said. “You’re not telling the truth. You once told me I had to be honest, but you’re not doing the same.”

“All right. I don’t see where this can go. You know we wouldn’t have gotten married, and wouldn’t even be together, if you weren’t pregnant. You’d be on a stage somewhere, or traveling the world.”

She felt pain like she’d never known. “This is pride talking.”

He shook his head. “When you’ve lived in the places I’ve lived, you know the difference between ego and truth. We should stick to our original agreement, and not pretend there’s anything more.”

“I don’t believe you. I don’t believe one word you’re saying.” Tempest picked up her purse. “Maybe you do, but I don’t.”

He watched her as she walked to the door. “You know, Shaman, I know a little something about acting. I know something about make-believe. And right now, I know you’re acting.” She gave him a sad smile. “I don’t know why you’re pretending you don’t care about me, but I know you do.”