Curvy Girls: Claimed By The Cowboy (The BBW and the Billionaire Rancher) (13 page)

 For him to deceive her on that level, to say he loved her again and again, to tell her he wanted to start a family with her, to ask her mother to move on the ranch if he didn’t really mean it…

That wasn’t Ty. That wasn’t her husband. That was more like something Clayton would do.

There had to be a reason for the conversation that Ludmilla had taped.

And for that matter, why had Ludmilla abruptly turned the tape recorder off? Why had she played only half a minute of conversation? What else had Ty said, that Ludmilla was hiding?

She grabbed her cell phone to call Carlotta for advice, but by the time Carlotta answered, she already knew what she was going to do.

“Hey, Abigail, what’s up? Has Cheyenne been staying with you at the ranch?” Carlotta sounded worried when she answered.

“What? No. What do you mean?”

“She disappeared. She hasn’t reported to work at the Dry Gulch Saloon in three days. She hasn’t been at her house at the Bickerson’s. Nobody knows where she is.”

“Jesus. You should have called me earlier.” Abigail let out a deep breath. “I know where she is.”

“Where?”

“The Timber Cove. The place in the woods she ran away to when her mother abandoned her. She always goes there and sulks when she’s pissed off about something. It’s like her place of refuge. It’s not too far from here;  I’m going to go get her right now.”

“Abigail, I’m pretty sure there’s a big storm coming.”

“And that’s why I’m going to go get her right now. I’ll call you as soon as I pick her up.”

She eased the pickup truck over the field and onto the main road by the ranch, racing against the weather, gripping the steering wheel tightly.  The thought of Chelsea caught alone out in the cove, in the middle of a raging storm, made her heart pound

As she drove, the sky darkened with frightening speed.  The pitter patter of raindrops began pounding on the roof, and then the sky opened, and suddenly the world outside the pickup truck disappeared into a rushing river. If it was this bad inside the truck, what was happening to Cheyenne?

She had no choice but to stop the truck.  There was a gully that ran by the road that was famous for overflowing during summer storms; if she kept driving, blinded as she was, she was likely to end up in it.

Then she felt the truck’s wheels lift from the ground, and the truck was moving, floating, and her heart leaped to her throat.

She had miscalculated, badly.

Suddenly there was a rush of water, and the truck was rolling, and her head banged against the side of the truck so hard that she saw stars.

The world went dark, and then light again. How much time had gone by?

The truck was lying on the driver’s side, and she was cold and wet. Dimly, she realized that the cab of the truck was filling up with murky water.  She reached up for the door in a daze, and fumbled for the lock, and then she heard glass shattering, and looked up, thinking it was Ty, but she saw Clayton’s face instead, looming over her,  distorted, angry and leering.

And she knew she’d never live to see Ty again, to tell him the truth about how much she really loved him, and how she was late with her cycle, which never happened, so she was almost certainly carrying his child.

Chapter Seventeen

“She’s coming to!”

Abigail struggled to sit up, but she was strapped down, and there was something on her face. She clawed at it, and hands grabbed at her and pulled her hands away, and then the fog cleared and she realized she was strapped to a stretcher in the back of an ambulance, with an oxygen mask on her face.

Her head pounded with a steady throb and nausea roiled in her stomach.

Ty leaned over her, stroking her hair.

“What happened?” she mumbled, through the mask. “How did Clayton find me?”

“When the storm hit, Ludmilla told Clayton about some tape recording she made, said you’d rushed off, and then she felt bad because you were out there in the bad weather. Then Carlotta called and said you were headed out to the Timber Cove to find Chelsea. We all went out to look for you. Clayton found you and pulled you out of the truck.”

“Chelsea! We have to get her! She’s out there in the storm”

“Chelsea’s been at Dylan’s house banging him for three days straight,” Ty said, holding her hand. “She’s fine. Don’t ever do a damn fool thing like that again, you hear me?” His voice was raw and shaking. “If I’d lost you, I don’t know what I’d have done.”

Sudden fear flooded Abigail.  “The baby. What about the baby? Is the baby all right?”

“What baby? Oh my God – You mean…”

It was an agonizing half hour more before they got the news at the emergency room. Yes, she was indeed pregnant. Yes, the baby was fine. Abigail had a concussion and would be able to go home the next day.

* * *

The sun poured through the window in the study, broken up into square frames on the wide-planked wooden floor.

An oil painting of Boone Jackson glared down from the wall. He wore a black snap front shirt with a ropes and roses motif, a black cowboy hat, and a scowl.  Ty couldn’t ever remember seeing him smile.

Clayton stood staring at the picture, with his back turned to the door. He didn’t bother to turn around when Ty walked in the room.

“I wanted to talk to you,” Ty said.

“Came to gloat?”

“No. I wanted to thank you for saving my wife and child.  And I wanted to say that I’m sorry things went the way they did. We may not see eye to eye on a lot of things, but you’re still my brother.”

Clayton shrugged, and didn’t answer. He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off the painting on the wall, as if mesmerized by Boone’s cold, angry gaze. Even dead, Boone still had power over his unhappy son.

“That needs to come down,” Ty said.

Clayton turned to face him, shrugging sullenly.  “Don’t do anything on my account.”

“Clayton, we used to be close when we were growing up.  It doesn’t have to be this way, you know.”

A long silence fell, stretching uncomfortably, before Clayton finally spoke. “Why did my dad let your mother take you and move into another house? Why did he stop beating your ass every day?”

Ty let out a long breath. “Videotape. I didn’t find out until I was in my teens, but apparently, when I was seven, she’d had enough of him beating on her, so she came up with a plan.  She secretly videotaped him beating her up. And having sex with a 15 year old maid on their marital bed.”

“Jesus Christ!” Clayton’s breath hissed out in an explosion of anger.

“She used the tapes to blackmail him. She didn’t want to divorce him, she wanted to play the rich rancher’s wife, so she took me and moved into another house on the property and kept up the pretense.”

“She could have taken me too,” Clayton said, and the tones of hurt and anger in his voice wrenched at Ty’s heart. “I know I wasn’t her son, but…”

“I begged her to, and we fought about it for years. Remember how he stopped beating on you and just turned to ignoring you when you turned sixteen?”

“Yeah, because I finally hit him back.”

“That was only part of it. I overheard my mother talking about the tapes with her lawyer, and I begged her to turn them over to the police, but she refused. She wanted that leverage over dad.  But I went to our father, told him about the tapes, pretended I had a copy, and told him if he ever laid a hand on you again, I’d turn the tapes over to the police and the newspapers. And he never hit you again, did he?”

Dawning comprehension spread across Clayton’s face. “No. No, he didn’t. That’s when he started travelling all the time. It was like he couldn’t stand to be in the same room with me, couldn’t even stand to be on the ranch any more.”

“Same thing with my mother.  I was furious at her when I found out about the tapes, about how she hadn’t used them to protect you too, when she could have saved you from years of his abuse. Our relationship never recovered from that. That’s the year she started spending all her time overseas with her Eurotrash boyfriends.  After she and I had our final blowout fight, she pretty much gave up on that whole wife and mother thing, and just enjoyed her money and her pretty boys.”

Clayton took a deep, shuddering breath, and glanced back up at the painting. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. You won in the end. You got all the glory.”

“Glory? You think that’s what this is about?” Ty snapped.

Suddenly Clayton was blinking hard, blinking away hot, angry tears. It wasn’t just the fact that he’d lost, Ty knew; it was being in this room, with the weight of their bitter past crushing him.

Ty was going to toss that picture of Boone onto a bonfire, first chance he got.

“You’re so damned smart, aren’t you?” Clayton choked out. “You know what’s best for the town. You get to ride in and be the hero, saving the town from the evil Clayton, who was going to ruin everything. Well, if I’d gotten the ranch, things would have turned out differently. There would have been jobs for the people who are barely holding on here. Tourists coming all year long, not just in the summer. Construction jobs.  Hotel jobs. Maintenance jobs and management jobs for the condominium tower. I’d have saved the town from economic ruin.”

He blinked again, furious. “I’ve done it before for other towns. Turned everything around for them.  Built up downtowns that were dying, saved businesses, saved livelihoods, breathed new life into the economy of towns that were on their last legs. I could have done it here. Then you’d see; I’m not some lowlife loser, Ty; I actually know what I’m doing. You’d have seen what I can do; everybody would have seen.”

Ty felt as if someone were squeezing the breath out of him. Clayton’s plans may have been misguided, but he could understand where Clayton was coming from.  He wanted to come home and make good, to rebuild his tarnished legacy.

“Listen. It doesn’t have to be over. I’m willing to talk about development, just not on the scale that you were planning.  We could build a hotel and a spa by the hot springs, just not on top of them. I’ve had countless inquiries about those hot springs; you’re right, they would bring in people all year long. A lot of people.  Enough to keep the merchants going all throughout the winter.”

Clayton turned to look at him, his face stony. “Go on.”

“I’d be willing to discuss building some vacation condos, but everything has to be done with respect for the land and the wildlife that’s on here. I also want to build a wildlife refuge on my property, for endangered and injured wildlife, and we could have tours come visit the refuge, all year long. That’s what I was talking about with Mr. Graniti when your wife tape recorded me.”

Clayton waved a hand dismissively. “Forget her. I’m getting the annulment papers drawn up already.”

“Whatever. That’s your business. But I want you and Mr. Graniti to start from scratch, to bring me new plans based on what I’ve described here.”

Clayton stared at him, searching his face. “You don’t have to do this because you feel sorry for me. I can find work elsewhere.”

But not in Crooked Creek. Not in a place where Clayton could pave over his poisoned legacy and heal some of the wounds of his past.

“I’m not doing it because I feel sorry for you. I’m doing it because I know you can do the job.” And that was the truth; Clayton was well respected in his field.

Clayton nodded, struggling to speak. “I’ll think about it,” he said finally. “You should go see how your wife is doing.”

Ty nodded. “We’ll talk later.”

Abigail was sitting in an armchair in the living room, surrounded by Becky and Carlotta, Lorenzo,  Edna Vale, Edna’s trucker boyfriend, Ruby, and Winston.  As Ty walked in, she was attempting to stand up, but Carlotta jumped up. “What do you need? Don’t get up, you moron. I’ll get it!”

“I need to pee. Pretty sure you can’t do that for me. Besides, why should you get anything for me? You’re a million times more pregnant than me! With octuplets!”

Carlotta, who looked as if she’d swallowed Jupiter, crossed herself and then made a hand sign with her fingers, to ward off the evil eye.  “Do not even say that. Twins are more than plenty. And you got knocked unconscious yesterday, so you should take it easy. Are you dizzy at all? Seeing double?”

“I’m fine, you nutjob,” Abigail laughed. “Never been better.  Headache is almost gone. And I think the goose egg on my head is a good look for me.”

“I’ve got this,” Ty told Carlotta, looping his arm protectively around Abigail’s waist as she stood.

“You’re actually going to walk me to the bathroom?”

“Yes ma’am. Don’t even think about saying no to me.” The way he said it, all stern and macho, sent a flush of heat rushing over Abigail’s body.

He walked her down the hall, arm looped around her waist, and she turned to look at him. “I’m already a big girl, and pregnancy is going to make me blow up like the Goodyear blimp,” she groaned.

“I can’t wait.  It’s already doing great things for your boobs.” He looked down at her chest with appreciation.

She laughed. “Pervert.”

“That’s true. But I’m your pervert. Forever and always.” He bent down and brushed her lips with his, sending that sweet rush of arousal gushing through her body. 

She pushed away from him with a smile on her face, and when she came out of the bathroom, Cheyenne and Dylan were walking in to the living room arm in arm. 

“Am I allowed to be here? After I was such an asshole to everybody?” Cheyenne asked timidly.

“You weren’t an asshole,” Dylan protested.

“Yes, I was.”

“Yes, she really was,” Carlotta agreed.

“I apologize. I was going through my quarter-life crisis. I was a jerk to everybody and I was selfish and awful, and if anything had happened to Abigail because of me, I would literally have thrown myself off a bridge.”

“More,” Carlotta said.

“You were right. You were just trying to look out for me. I know it wasn’t easy for you to tell me about what Franklin was saying about me, and when you did, I was a total bitch.  You’ve always had my back, and I should have known better.”

“That, and drinks on your tab as soon as I pop these babies out my coochie, and I might just find it in my heart to forgive you.”