Once a Cowboy (9 page)

“Is she the one who stole him from the hospital?” George asked.

“Yes.” Alex folded her hands in her lap and told them the whole story.

“She has no rights,” George shouted. “She’s a kidnapper.” The despondent man who’d walked into her office was fast disappearing.

She took a deep breath. “It’s not about rights. It’s about Brodie’s life. Mrs. Hayes is in no condition to offer any resistance. She’s the one who told Brodie the truth about his birth and he’s still at the hospital. That should tell you something. If you pressure him or push him in any way, you’ll lose him for good this time. I’m certain about that.”

“I don’t understand.” George shook his head. “I just want my son back—my oldest son.”

Maggie rubbed his shoulder. “Dad, don’t get upset. We found Travis. That’s good news.”

“What good is it if he doesn’t want anything to do with us?”

Alex wished she could explain this to their satisfaction, so she tried again. “That baby who was stolen is gone forever. There’s a man in his place now. A man who has had parents all his life—parents he’s loved. It’s
not easy to make that one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn to another set of parents. He’s going through a great deal and as his biological parents you should be willing to give him time to adjust. Time that he needs.”

“Is his father living?” George asked.

“No. He died several years ago.”

“So he has just the woman in the hospital?” Helen asked, and Alex noticed she didn’t say mother.

“Yes, and an aunt.”

“I can’t believe she took our son.” Helen blinked, as if she couldn’t grasp all the details, then moaned a pitiful sound. “All the time the police were looking for our baby he was in Germany.”

“Yes. Brodie was two years old when they came back to the States.”

“All those years I wondered. All those years—now I know.”

“Yes, Helen. That’s the good news. Your son is alive and well. Now he needs your patience and understanding. Give him a week and I’ll speak with him again. Right now he’s in a state of denial, but eventually he will want to meet you.”

“Then I guess we’ll wait.”

“I don’t like it,” George said, getting to his feet.

Helen picked up her purse. “Tell him we love him. We’re his parents.”

Alex stood also. “That’s the problem. He hasn’t made the transition yet.”

“I’m trying to understand.”

“Thanks, Helen. Down the road I feel there will be a happy ending.”

Helen dug in her purse and pulled out a silver baby rattle wrapped in blue velvet. “I’ve held onto this memento. Sometimes I didn’t understand why. Now I do. As long as I had it I knew there was hope that one day I would see him again. Please give it to him.” She handed the rattle to Alex. On it was inscribed
George Travis Braxton Jr.
and the date he was born.

A lump formed in Alex’s throat. “I will.”

“Thank you, Alex, and please stay in touch.”

The threesome left the office and she stared down at the rattle. It was shining just as bright as the future that Travis Braxton should’ve had. Somehow Alex knew that he still could have it and she had to make it happen. Though her heart was clearly on Brodie’s side, there had to be a way for the Braxton family to come together again.

Alex finished some paperwork and went into Buck’s office. “I’m taking the next couple of days off.”

He leaned back in his chair. “Really?”

“Yes.” She looked him squarely in the eye. “There’s nothing that’s pressing right now and I need this time.”

Buck folded his hands behind his head. “Where you going?”

“It’s personal.”

“Mmm.” He leaned forward. “Brodie Hayes.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. It’s my business.”

“Girl…”

“See you later.” She hurried for the door. That might be the coward in her, but she didn’t want to hear his take on Brodie.

She sat in her Jeep, wondering what to do about Brodie’s truck. Her cell buzzed and she clicked on. It was Tripp Daniels.

“I’m at Brodie’s and I can’t find his truck keys,” Tripp said. “Your number is scribbled on a pad so I
thought I’d check with you since you brought him home. I want to get his truck home.”

“I have them. The truck is at the Boots and Spurs. I’ll meet you there.”

They debated where to take the truck and ended up driving it to the Cowboy Up Ranch. If something happened to Mrs. Hayes, they figured Brodie wouldn’t be in any shape to drive.

She picked up Tripp and drove him to his truck. He talked about his wife and kids, his family and Brodie. It was clear he was a happily married man.

“I’m going home, but I’ll be back tomorrow,” Tripp told her.

“Brodie’s going to need his friends.”

“We’ll be there.” He crawled out of her Jeep. “Nice talking to you.”

These cowboys stuck together. She admired that.

S
HE WENT HOME
, turned on the sprinklers, then hurried inside and showered. Curling up on her bed, she called Naddy.

“Hey, honeychild, how you doing?”

“That’s what I’m wondering about you,” Alex replied.

“I’ve having the time of my life. Ethel and me are going to a strip show tonight. I plan to tuck a lot of dollar bills in a G-string.”

“Naddy, for heaven sakes, strippers are very young men.”

“So? I might be old, but I’m not dead.”

Alex sighed. “When are you coming home?”

“In a couple of days, but if I win at slots again Ethel and me might stay a while.”

“Naddy…”

“Don’t bitch, Alex. You sound like Buck.”

“I just worry about you.”

“I know, honeychild.”

“And I miss you.” She wanted her grandmother to come home. She needed to talk to her. With her girlfriends married and living away, she felt so alone at times. She sat up. What was wrong with her? She had witnessed so much heartache today and she needed to hug someone. Soon she’d have to get that life she was always telling herself about. Hell, her grandmother had more fun than she did.

“You have a great time,” Alex added.

“I always do,” Naddy replied. “And I got those cops to listen to me about the missing girl. They’re checking it out.”

“That’s good. I’ll see you in a couple of days.”

“You betcha.”

Alex hung up the phone and stared at it for a moment, then she jumped up and dressed. She grabbed a Popsicle before going out the door. Turning off the sprinklers, she headed for the hospital.

Eating a Popsicle and driving was probably something she shouldn’t be doing, but she managed. She found a parking spot and applied lipstick and realized her tongue was red. Damn. Well, who was going to look at her tongue?

She took the elevator to the CCU unit, but she didn’t see Brodie. So she found a seat, picked up a magazine and waited.

B
RODIE AND
Cleo walked out of the unit.

“At least she’s sleeping now,” Cleo said.

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry, Brodie. I had no idea she’d done such a thing.”

“Thanks, Cleo. It’s just a little hard to deal with.”

“I can imagine. Just don’t let it get you down, cowboy.”

He tried to smile. “I may not know who I am, but I’m a cowboy. I’ve always known that.”

“And you’re a wonderful, compassionate, strong and hard-working man. You’re smart, honest, loyal and—”

“Whoa. Don’t get carried away.”

“I love you, Brodie. You’re like my own son.” She hugged him and he hugged her back.
She’s not my aunt,
he thought. But his heart didn’t know that.

Cleo drew back. “Claudie seems at peace.”

“I think the truth has given her some kind of atonement.”

“Forgive her, Brodie. For yourself, forgive her.”

He looked into his aunt’s eyes. “I wish it was that simple.”

Cleo touched his arm. “Think I’ll go home and get a few hours sleep.”

“That’s a good idea.”

“See you in the morning.”

Brodie walked down the hall to a water fountain, just to do something. He stopped when he saw Alex sitting in the waiting room. How long had she been here?

She looked up and immediately came to his side.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I wanted to check on your mother and see how you were doing.”

“My mother’s holding her own. I’m in a fog. I’m not really sure what I’m doing.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I wish people would stop saying that.” He sucked in a quick breath. “You can leave now. I can handle this, I don’t need a babysitter.”

“I know you don’t.”

“Oh, man.” He paused as something hit him. “You’re here about the Braxtons, aren’t you?”

“Not really. But I did tell them.”

He held up a hand. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“Fine. I won’t until you’re ready.”

His eyes held hers. “I may never be ready.” The thought of the Braxtons expecting him to be their son was making him ill. How could he explain that to Alex without hurting her. “I have to get back to my mother.”

He walked to Claudia’s bedside and tried to stop thoughts of Alex. She was just another complication he didn’t need right now.

“Brodie?”

“Yes, Mother. It’s me.” He took a seat by her bed. The doctor had arranged for him to come and go as he pleased and he was glad about that. If he left, he’d probably never return. That was a hard truth. He knew there were a lot more to come.

“Where’s Cleo?”

“She went home for a while.”

“Good, and you need to get some rest, too.”

“I can’t sleep.”

“I’m so sorry, son.”

He shifted uneasily at that word. “You keep saying that, but it doesn’t change anything. For years I’ve had so many guilty feelings for disappointing you and Dad. Now everything has changed and I’m not sure what to feel. I’m numb inside.”

“Brodie, you’re strong and you will recover from this. You will be stronger.”

“At what price?”

A moan left her throat. “Don’t hate me. Please don’t hate me.”

All his life he had a problem talking to his mother. He’d rather have a root canal, but here he sat pouring out his feelings in a way that surprised him.

“If I hated you, I wouldn’t be here.”

“Thank you.”

Suddenly memories of his childhood flashed through his mind. “Remember when I was six or seven and you bought that sailor outfit for me?”

“Yes. You ripped it off and refused to wear it. You only wanted to wear jeans and sneakers. That is, until you discovered cowboy boots.”

“Dad threw out my first pair.”

“You bought them with your allowance at a thrift shop when you were out with a friend. We weren’t letting you put your feet in them. We didn’t know who had owned them.”

“I was mad, though.”

“You were mad a lot as a teenager.”

“Yeah. That’s why I had to leave. I guess I was
searching for the real me.” As the words slipped out, he knew they were true.

“Please forgive me.” Claudia fumbled for his hand.

Through the semidarkness he stared at her frail fingers. Those hands had made him peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, bandaged his scraped knees when he fell and they held his face every night and kissed his forehead before he went to sleep.
This was his mother. Had been for forty years.
Just like that he knew he could say what she needed to hear.

“I forgive you.” He heard his words but he wasn’t sure he meant them. He’d said them, though, that was the important part.

“Thank you,” she whispered, and drifted into sleep.

He slowly made his way out of the room, feeling drained, but also experiencing a release that he couldn’t explain.

W
ALKING INTO
the waiting room, he stopped short. Alex sat there. It was almost midnight and no one else was in the room. Her sneakers lay on the floor, her knees were drawn up to her chin and her head rested on them. Several strands of hair had come loose from the clip and hung down her neck. This lady just never gave up. But he had to admit he was glad to see her.

He sat beside her and she raised her head to look at him. Her eyes were glazed with sleep and he thought she probably looked like that first thing in the morning. Even though he’d seen her this morning, he hadn’t noticed because he was angry with her for interfering in his life.

“Why are you still here?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Guilt. Worry. Stupidity.”

“Stupidity?”

“Yeah. When a man keeps telling me not to come back, you’d think that after a while I’d get the message.”

“Mmm.” He rested an ankle on his knee. “You must have a hard head.”

“Not near as hard as my dad’s.”

He looked at Alex and realized he knew very little about her. “You said your dad’s name is Buck?”

She curled her feet beneath her, getting comfortable. “Yes. The one and only Dirk Donovan, ex-cop and now a P.I. We’re partners in Donovan Investigations. Or at least that’s the way it’s supposed to be, but Buck makes it very clear he’s the boss.”

“Are you an only child?”

“Yes. My mother died when I was two and my dad never remarried.”

“So you’re close?”

“Hardly.” She gathered the stray strands and tugged them into the clip. “We don’t see eye-to-eye on much of anything. I had a very unconventional childhood.”

“In what way?”

“When my mother died, my grandmother moved in to help with me. Buck and Naddy get along like cats and dog. He snarls and she scratches back. My grandmother’s not a conventional-type grandmother. She was a bail bondsman until she retired. After school, I did my homework in her office and I saw a lot of criminals. Naddy made me stay in the back room, but I always peeped out to see what was going on. I guess that’s why I became a cop. It’s in my genes.”

He rubbed the leather on his boot. “So you were a cop?”

“Yes. For several years.”

It was so easy to talk to her and that’s what he needed. To talk about something that wouldn’t drag him down. And he was intrigued by her.

“Is your grandmother still living?”

“Oh, yes. At the moment she’s in Vegas gambling and trying to get the Vegas police’s attention.”

“Why?”

“Since she retired, she does a lot of searching on the Internet looking for missing children. She thinks she’s found one and she’s trying to get that across to the police.”

“Sounds like a very interesting lady.”

“That’s my Naddy.”

He studied the tip of his boot. “There’s a lot of missing kids in this world.”

“Sad, but yes.”

“Too bad Naddy wasn’t looking for me. Maybe I would’ve grown up a cowboy.”

“But you are a cowboy,” she reminded him.

He was—nothing in his childhood had changed that. “I guess that dominant gene prevailed.”

“The Braxton—”

“Don’t do that,” he warned.

“Please don’t keep pushing these people away. They’re hurting and they need to see you.”

He stood in one easy movement. “Is that why you’re here—to keep pressuring me?”

“No. I’m here because of you.” Her brown eyes didn’t waver from his.

“Why? You don’t even know me.”

“Maybe not. But I can feel your pain.” She pointed at him. “And don’t laugh at that. I’m told my mother was the same way. That’s why my father says I’ll never make a great P.I. I let myself get too involved.”

He frowned, hearing the pain in her voice. “Your father told you that?”

“I told you we don’t have the best relationship.”

He eased back into his chair. “Tom expected great things of me. He became a general like his father and he wanted the same of me. It took every ounce of courage I had to tell them how I felt. Tom said I’d become a loser and amount to nothing. To prove him wrong drove me every day of my life.”