The Cowboy's Secret Baby: BWWM Cowboy Pregnancy Romance (Young Adult First Time Billionaire Steamy African American) (9 page)

“I think she directed her venom at Clarice, Farris here, the entire University staff at Sewanee, me, and a couple of her aunts who died forty years ago,” Pirtle replied.  “Marion never would let a good mad spell go to waste.  She may even have used up a little ink on you and that pathetic little blighter who runs her office.”

Farris was thinking.  “So I can get a binding agreement that will keep her out of Kentucky and Clarice’s hair, but I can’t keep her out of the local loony bin.”

“Precisely,” Pirtle told him.  “I’ve seen cases like this before.  They’re common in the South. Hell, they may be all over the country as far as I know, but our families are more closely knit together down here.”

“And,” Angus added gloomily, “this is probably not a case where you can buy a Greyhound ticket to California and never see the person again.”

“I’ll give you some financial help with Marion, if needed,” Farris assured him, “but the person I’m worried about is Clarice.”  He rose.  “I’m going to go see what those rules for visiting her are.”

The following morning he returned to finally visit with his new wife after a restless night full of bad dreams. After a list of mundane, routine commands Farris was finally allowed to see his new wife. He was led down a dank and dimly lit hospital wing and shuttered
. No wonder no one ever wants to come in these places.
He sneered at the saddened conditions around him. In the passing rooms he overheard a woman sobbing to herself and his stomach panged, thinking of Clarice and how she must have felt when that moron officer read that note aloud to her over the phone. I will have to remember to call the station and give that officer a good piece of my mind when this is all said and done. Finally the nurse stopped outside a room, reminding him once more of what he could and could not say to his own wife. Ridiculous. He snorted and shook his head in agreement.

Clarice was quite apologetic when Farris finally entered the room, the sadness showing in her once bright eyes.  She held out her hand to him and held up her face to be kissed.  “Oh, Farris, whatever must you think of me?  It was just that, all of a sudden, everything was too much. And is John Thomas alright?  I tried so hard to leave enough breast milk for him.”

“Don’t worry about that.”  Farris kept hold of her hand and rubbed it soothingly.  “John Thomas is just fine with his new half-aunts.  They’re having fun playing with him, and the Professor checked with Dr. Shaunessy to insure she got an appropriate infant formula.”  He smiled at her.  “I’m sure it’s not as sweet as your milk, but our boy tolerates it well, and the caregivers are loving.”

“Oh, that’s good to hear.” Clarice relaxed a little.  “Do you think Angus and his friends could pack my painting gear well enough so John Thomas and I could go straight to Kentucky once we leave here?”

“That’s certainly what we’ll try for.”  Farris took both hands now, stroking her brand new wedding ring.  He had gotten her an ostentatious diamond band so she would feel she was truly married, even though she would have to wear it on a chain around her neck when she was painting.

“I can’t wait to see how you’ve got the Big House fixed up,” Clarice told him.  “I can hardly believe those drawings you’ve emailed me. And you plan to hire a nanny?”

“Clarice Croxton,” he regarded her seriously, “your art is energizing the entire horse breeding community.  You’re too important to waste yourself in the day-to-day duties of childrearing.  We’re not going to be one of those families where the children only come down to visit their parents at tea, but you’re going to have plenty of free drawing time in your own little guest house.”

Clarice’s eyes sparkled in her tired face.  “That’s your wedding present for me?”

    She was so overjoyed at the thought of her new little studio, waiting patiently for her return to Two Flags ranch. She thought of the horses and the open fresh air. What a great place it will be to raise little John Thomas. Despite her breakdown and the sorrowing news she was told of her mother, Clarice could feel her spirits building once more.

Farris kissed both the hands he was holding.  “That’s the least I could do. And wait until you see all the baby presents we’ve gotten.  John Thomas can change outfits twice a day for at least a week without Dina even having to do any laundry. Also, unless the economy crashes again, he already owns enough stock to put himself through college.”

Clarice smiled.  “That’s because his father is well known in the wealthy horse-breeding world.”

Farris shook his head.  “It’s also because his mother is the most famous artist in that world.”

     Clarice laughed at the flattery, and it was refreshing to her smile once again. It had been so long since he had seen a genuine one that he had almost forgotten the look when her eyes lit up. She wasn’t sure about the world, but in her new neck of the woods it appeared her paintings were a success. Farris stayed awhile and the two laughed and joke just as they had all those nights on the phone. Though he was sitting in a mental ward, his new wife having a serious breakdown, and things were still a hectic mess. That missing piece felt slightly quelled by her presence. Now if I can just get my family, enacted, back home, I finally might feel some peace and the wholeness return. He thought to himself, squeezing Clarice’s hand lovingly. He stayed on until the evening nurse finally told him visiting hours were long over. Farris gave her a long, loving kiss and headed back to his waiting son and more preparations to move her things on to the ranch immediately.

His commands went unquestioned as the others understood exactly why preparations were being made to move little John Thomas and Clarice the moment she was released. It was just as well, considering that Marion would soon be back on her feet and ready to cause even more harm, this time ending more tragically than this little brush had succeeded in doing.

It was a week and a half before Marion Saxe woke up to find herself in a beeping hospital ward.  A figure swarmed above her.  “I want a drink of water,” Marion said muzzily.  “Thirsty.”  A helpful hand guided a straw to her lips, and Marion heard a voice say, “She should be fully conscious in about an hour.”

When next Marion woke, her eyes were clear and focused.  She turned her head to see a man at her bedside.  “Who are you?” she asked with interest.

“I am Dr. Gus Hightower, and you’ve given us all a great deal of concern,” he replied.  “Judging by the note you left, you tried to commit suicide.”

“Yes, I did,” she agreed, smiling.  “Aren’t I clever?”

Dr. Hightower now looked very concerned.  “Yes, perhaps you are.  At any rate, since you’re awake, we will transfer you to our psychiatric unit for a complete evaluation.”

Marion gave a long cackle, though her throat was dry and scratchy still.

The entire Croxton family had returned to Kentucky and was enjoying the services of their new nanny by the time Angus Pirtle called to talk to the brother-in-law he so admired.  His initial conversation was about flying, since Angus had taken to aircraft in a big way, but eventually he decided to pass some news along.

“You’ll be glad to know that Mrs. Saxe has now returned to her realty operation and seems to be giving it her full attention,” he reported.

“How the hell did that happen?” Farris Croxton acted bluntly.

“Well,” Angus chortled, “Dad found out she actually had enough Certificates of Deposit squirrelled away that she could afford to pay the uninsured costs of her hospitalization, so he let her.  He never visited her or said another word to her.  Apparently a couple of weeks in the psych unit were enough to persuade her she was better off earning her own money.  I’d expected her to buttonhole me, since I’m still down here in Sewanee, but she hasn’t said a word.  Her business seems to be doing better than ever, too; she advertises a lot.”

“Son of a gun,” Farris swore.  “It sounds like she ran out of people to blackmail and turned her attention back to business.”

“That seems to be what’s happening so far,” Angus replied happily.  “Of course, it could all break loose again, but now you all are safely in Kentucky.”

Farris was glad he and his new family were safely back home. At least there he could keep a better handle on things, in case the old bat decided to ever have another flare up and try to put his family in jeopardy again. He shuttered at the thought. Some good had come of all of it though, especially when it came to Clarice. The final incident was enough to completely break her chains and allow her the freedom of a happy life with him and their son.

Clarice cautiously began to branch out into human portraits, starting with young John Thomas, since he wasn’t likely to have any hidden emotions.  Farris encouraged this process.  “Those portraits you did of the McGees were sort of unexpected, but there was nothing offensive in them,” he told her.  “Maybe you were picking up nasty hidden emotions because you yourself were hiding so much.”

“I hope that’s the explanation of the problem,” Clarice replied, “because I’m getting requests to paint horses with their owners, and I’d really like to.”

“Well, they do say that people begin to look like their animals, or vice versa, when the two are close.”  Farris grinned.  “Why don’t I take some close-ups of you and Courier together, and we’ll see what happens.”

For Courier had become Clarice’s horse.  The moment she returned from Tennessee, he had seen her on the porch of her special guest house and jumped the corral fence to gallop up to her.  Clarice now confidently rode him to hunt meets and steeple chases, and Farris was able to obtain decent ‘covering’ fees for the young stallion.

Hunting friends, learning the reason for her diffidence, began donating photographs so Clarice could see if her ‘superpower’ was truly tamed.  “Well,” one friend remarked on her new portrait, “I don’t think I usually look that genial, but I’m not going to argue about it.” - By the New Year, Clarice was beginning to show horse and owner portraits. It was like a dream come true. Now she was not only painting animals, which she still loved dearly, but human portraits as well, and doing great at it as well. She smiled and patted Courier on the head, who whinnied a reply. It was nice to know that her life was really turning out to be the fairy tale she had once shunned from her life.

********************************

Meanwhile, the young couple was rediscovering their joy in lovemaking.  Married love proved to have more responsibilities and strings attached, but Farris enjoyed exploring his wife again.  Now that she was safely on ‘the pill’, there would be no surprises they did not plan for.  Clarice, for her part, often found her hand slipping onto her husband’s private member when they sat together after supper, and John Thomas was in bed. They savored their new life and love together, home at peace on the Two Flags ranch where it all first began. Clarice couldn’t have possible

For the first time, Clarice stopped hating her own body.  Those wretched ‘hooters’ her mother had mocked so still required sturdy foundation garments, but Farris enjoyed seeing her bounce them.  Also, they had proved quite useful when John Thomas was nursing.  Clarice had always been able to satisfy him.

Marion Saxe was also finding a new meaning in her own life.  That psychiatric hospital had been scary – and tremendously expensive.  She had been admonished to throw off the burdens of her own past, and the advice had seemed good.  Apparently, being successful in business made better sense financially than allowing her private vendettas to get her into a hospital.  Why, she’d never felt so confined in her life!

Actually, it was a little easier to get things done when you didn’t have to consider every move any prospective client had ever made. – And it was nice to see people smile.  Even Old Nick Mortimer occasionally smiled when she praised his meticulous bookkeeping.

The really big change came when a grizzled stranger came into the office and inquired for Marion Bean – her long-ago maiden name.  “I was once Marion Bean,” she admitted, staring.  The stranger had glasses and walked with a limp, but he was still nice looking.

“And I’m still Ezra Plunkett,” he replied with a smile.  “I guess you never expected to see your big, dumb football player again.”

Years rolled away from Marion’s vision.  “You were having trouble passing biology – all those Latin tree names!”

“Yep, and you helped me, too, though you were mighty saucy about it,” Plunkett responded.  “I see you’ve got a different name painted up over the door now.  You ever find yourself a man who could keep up with you?”

Marion found herself laughing a little.  “It was a long time ago; he died in an auto accident before I could even get to know him well.  Then, my parents died, and there was nobody else to take over the business.”

“No, people are moving out of these little burgs,” Plunkett responded.  “I took myself off and joined the Merchant Marines.  No pesky Latin there.  Anybody jabbering in a foreign language, you scraped him off with a boat hook. – I’m retired now, of course; no place for a sailor with a gimpy leg.”

“Are you looking for a rental?” she asked.  “I’m afraid we’re not much cheaper here in the boonies than they are in the big city.”

“Actually,” Plunkett answered, “I think I own some property here.”  He took a big wad of paper from the pocket of his light jacket.  “My Pa’s will finally caught up with me when I went in to the shipyard to get my severance papers.  I’ve been trying to figure out what this says ever since I got it.  Then I saw this shop and remembered you were good with reading.”  He passed the papers over.

Marion put on her glasses and spread the will on the counter.  Then she looked up.  “Ezra, it looks like you own a tract of land the county’s considering building on.”  She came around the counter.  “Let’s you and me mosey over to the court house.”

As it happened, Angus Pirtle had taken a summer job at the local newspaper, since his father had insisted he learn a practical skill.  Thus he was returning from checking out a ‘so-called’ story when he spied Mrs. Saxe and her gimpy-legged companion going to the court house.  With an attempt at cat-like tread, he followed them.  He finally found them in the office of the Registrar of Deeds.

“You need to look at this, Dean,” Marion Saxe was saying.  “I know old Joel Plunkett was in an out-of-county nursing home when he died, but this will says he owned property right here.  Look up the deed on this Platte number.”

The man at the desk looked up.  “It doesn’t matter who owned that land; the county’s seized it for back taxes.”

“Wait a minute, son.”  Ezra Plunkett stepped ponderously forward.  “My Pa just died two years ago.  How much you say is owed on that property?”

“Three thousand dollars,” the registrar responded implacably.  “That’s what it shows here.”  He placed the record defiantly on the desk.”

“Yup, three thousand dollars.” Ezra reached into his back pocket and produced a fat wallet that was chained to his belt.  “Well, I reckon I got that much.”  He started counting out the bills onto the desk, then replaced his still well-filled wallet.

The registrar opened his mouth.  “I can’t just accept money like this,” he finally got out.

“Well, go get your superior,” Marion Saxe used her sternest voice.  “If we can’t settle this matter here satisfactorily, I’m going to see a lawyer.”

When the registrar had left, Ezra Plunkett put his hand over the money to see that it didn’t go anywhere.  “You copy down what you need off that paper, Marion girl,” he said.  “I knew I needed to come to your place. – You see, when they tested me for college football, they discovered I’m what they call dyslexic with words.  If there’s a lot in one place, I can’t make heads or tails of them.  Numbers I’m fine with.”

Meanwhile, more people were running toward the Registrar’s desk.  Angus Pirtle scooted back into an out-of-the-way corner.  Did he have a story, or did he have a story?

Two months later, Clarice looked up from her laptop.  She had subscribed to the Sewanee area paper online as soon as her brother had gotten a job there, and now he had actually managed to get a byline.  The headline itself was shocking.

“Farris, my mother
has
gotten herself a new interest,” she said excitedly.  “I can’t believe it.  Angus even got the byline!”

“What’s your mother gone and done?”  Farris was suspending judgment on Marion Saxe.  So far, his offer to supplement her retirement income had lain unnoticed in Patrick Underhill’s law office.

“This is so amazing,” Clarice burbled.  “It seems that years ago Mother helped a rather dimwitted classmate pass a biology test.  Apparently he suffered from dyslexia, but nobody knew about that then.  Anyway, he came back to town and went to Mother’s agency so she could help him read his father’s will.  It turns out the city owes him a lot of money, and there was a big hoo-ha in the papers. – I can’t IMAGINE Mother doing anything like that!”

Clarice had trouble picturing her mother helping anyone, especially some slow witted man, unless it benefited her in some way. But it goes to show that even an evil person can sometimes be known to let a good deed slip from time to time. She sat back and smiled.

“I’m glad to hear she’s doing something with herself,” Farris commented gently.  “And it’s neat that Angus got to write up the story, too; I’ve always liked Angus.”

Actually, Farris was feeling relief that Marion was off their case. It had been a peaceful existence ever since that woman’s attempted suicide and therapy. At least some good came of the whole dramatic event.  Now that John Thomas had grown up enough to require a nursery gate at the head of the stairs, Clarice was pregnant again.  She had found an excellent obstetrician in Lexington, and all the Pirtles were being careful to make sure no word of the pregnancy had reached her volatile mother.

Their family was growing alongside their love for one another. With each passing day the family grew up as Clarice continued to grow out from carrying his second child. Clarice sat at her desk, just weeks before the child was to be born, sifting through some of the final orders before she took her leave. She paused as the wind chimes began to play outside on the porch in the distance. A soft neigh came from somewhere in the field as the new colts frolicked and played together. Her life had forever changed from one risky move when she took the commission on the Two Flags and now it was decision she hasn’t regretted a day since.

The week little Alice Rose Croxton was born, Angus Pirtle faxed another newspaper article to his brother-in-law.  Farris was laughing when he came into the hospital room Clarice shared with her baby daughter. Clarice glanced up from her feeding and shot him a puzzled look, her eyes sleepy from the delivery and strain of a newborn baby once more in their lives. He sat down besides her, still laughing in hysterics and stroked his little girl’s soft head.

“Oh, Clarice, you are not going to believe this!” he chortled.  “Ezra Plunkett and Marion Saxe have just wedded and are taking a honeymoon cruise to Greece!

So,
Clarice thought,
fairy tales sometimes really did come true.  Dyslexic Ezra Plunkett would never think to ask about Marion’s past – and Marion would not be troubled to tell him.

<< THE END >>