The Loner (6 page)

It didn’t take long to open the crib and put in the mattress, crib pads, sheet, and blanket. Billy was conscious of Emma watching him and fought the urge to start explaining himself—and confronting her about her pregnancy. When he was done, he picked Will up and settled him in the crib, tucking the blanket carefully around him, down one side, around his toes, and back up the other side.

“Snug as a bug in a rug,” he said when he was done.

“Sing, Daddy,” the boy said when Billy was done.

Billy glanced at Emma and felt himself flush. He’d read in one of the baby books he’d devoured in the months Debbie Sue had been pregnant, that it was a good idea to establish a bedtime ritual. So he had. He couldn’t really blame Will for not understanding that he wanted to forgo it this once. “Not tonight, Will,” he said.

“Sing, Daddy,” Will insisted.

“It’s late, Will.”

“Sing sing sing!” Will demanded.

“You’d better sing to him, or he’s going to wake up Mom,” Emma said, an amused grin on her face.

Billy sat on the edge of the bed facing his son, cleared his throat, and sang in a deep baritone voice.

The instant he was done, he popped up and leaned over the crib to tuck the blankets tight one last time. “Now good night,” he said, bending over to kiss his son’s forehead.

Will yawned and turned over, his hand still in his hair, the song signaling, as it had every day of his brief life, the end of their day together.

When Billy turned to gesture Emma out of the room,
he discovered she’d already gone. Billy darkened the room and headed toward the kitchen for the showdown with his pregnant sister.

He found her sitting at the kitchen table peeling a banana. He lifted a brow and said, “Leg cramps?”

“Yeah. How’d you know?”

“I’ve been through this,” he reminded her.

“They woke me up,” Emma explained past a mouthful of banana. “Figured I needed some potassium.”

“At least you’re taking care of yourself,” Billy muttered. He wanted a cup of coffee, but the caffeine would keep him awake. He needed a stiff drink, but he’d been trying to rid himself of all the bad habits that had made his life so wretched before he’d left Bitter Creek. He no longer even smoked in the house, because it wasn’t good for Will, and one of these days, he’d finally kick the habit.

But these were extraordinary circumstances.

“To hell with it,” he said, opening the cupboard over the ancient Amana refrigerator. Sure enough, he found a half-full bottle of Wild Turkey. He opened the cupboard to the left of the sink and got himself a jelly jar and poured a finger of liquor into it and set it on the table. He pulled out a chrome kitchen chair and turned it around, flattening the sharp edges of torn white vinyl before he straddled it.

He said nothing, just sipped the bourbon, liking the familiar taste of it, the comforting warmth of it as it slid down his throat. He watched Emma consume the entire banana and carefully fold the peel into a heap in front of her on the red Formica table.

“Are you all right?” Billy asked. “I mean, have you had any trouble with your pregnancy?”

She shook her head. “I’m fine. I haven’t been sick much. Just a little nausea and leg cramps once in a while.” She glanced at him and said, “Will was quite a surprise. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Billy and Emma had been close. At least, as close as a brother and sister could be with the seven-year difference in their ages. He’d stayed in Bitter Creek long after he’d yearned to leave, because he’d wanted her to graduate from high school and get a job before he left her alone to make her way in the world.

But two years ago he’d seen his chance and taken it, leaving her unprotected. And look what had happened. He felt guilty and angry and frustrated at the curves life kept throwing him. Her pregnancy was going to complicate everything. Twenty-four hours, hell. He’d be lucky to get out of this godforsaken place in twenty-four months.

“I want to know what sonofabitch took advantage of you,” he said, struggling for the rational tone of voice that had been so easy over the phone.

“It wasn’t like that, Billy,” Emma said. “I love him.”

“Obviously the feeling isn’t mutual,” he shot back.

He heard her swallow several times and felt the knot growing in his own throat. He ought to pull her into his arms and comfort her. It was easy enough to hug Summer. But that was probably because she always made the first move. It was different with Emma.

Hugs were awkward things between Coburns. He’d made sure Johnny Ray didn’t beat up on Emma, but that didn’t mean she’d gotten any affection.

And she’d been a freak in high school, way taller than most of the boys and skinny as a bed slat, with a head of
garish red hair. He’d tried to comfort her, to tell her she’d grow into her body and be pretty someday. But it hadn’t happened before he’d left two years ago.

Now, God help him, she was downright beautiful.

It was no wonder some cowboy had come wooing, or that she’d fallen into bed with the first man who’d offered her some attention.

Billy blamed himself for her predicament. If he’d been home where he belonged, no lazy, care-for-nothing cowboy would have been able to take advantage of his sister.

But she’d said she loved the guy.

“Tell me who the baby’s father is,” he said. “I promise I won’t do anything but talk to him.”

She eyed him through a sheen of tears and said, “He’s gone.”

“Dead?”

She shook her head, her bright red hair whipping back and forth across her bare shoulders. “No. He’s left Bitter Creek.”

“And gone where?” Billy demanded.

“Away.”

“That’s convenient,” he said. “I suppose once you’ve had the kid and put ‘unknown’ in the space where the father’s name is supposed to be, it’ll be safe for him to come back.”

He watched the flush of shame and humiliation rise on Emma’s fair skin and felt guilty for putting her through the wringer. He was in no position to be lecturing her, when he was unmarried himself and the father of a fifteen-month-old son.

The same thought must have occurred to her, because she said, “You’re in no position to talk, Billy.”

“Both parents’ names are on Will’s birth certificate,” he pointed out. As though that excused the fact he hadn’t married his son’s mother.

But Debbie Sue Hudson hadn’t wanted to marry him. Or have his baby, for that matter. Billy knew what it felt like to be unwanted, and he’d been determined no kid of his was going to suffer that fate. So he’d taken his son, vowing to see to it that Will always felt loved.

So far, that had meant making sure his son was warm and dry and fed. He’d spent hours talking to Will about all the plans he had for his son’s future, which was going to be promising, if Billy had anything to say about it.

Which was a far cry from his own childhood.

Billy hadn’t mourned his stepfather when he’d died driving drunk three years ago. Oh, he’d shed a few tears after the funeral. But what he’d really been mourning was the lost dream of growing up with a father who loved him, instead of one who detested and demeaned him.

Which was why he’d been so adamant about protecting his son. And why his current situation was so dire.

He couldn’t afford to lose his job with the TSCRA. He needed to be able to prove to a family court judge in Amarillo that he could provide a better home for Will as a single parent than Debbie Sue and her new husband could. The worst of it was, Debbie Sue didn’t really want Will. She wanted money.

Sometime after Will’s birth, Debbie Sue had overheard two bar patrons discussing how Billy had gotten
his job with the TSCRA because he was Jackson Blackthorne’s bastard son. She’d decided that with such rich relations, Billy was the goose that laid the golden egg. He’d been paying her a little bit every month to keep her off his back.

Four months ago she’d gotten married, and her new husband had seen the main chance. Debbie Sue had demanded that Billy pay her $50,000 to give up her parental rights. Otherwise, she threatened to haul him into court and seek custody of Will.

Billy was terrified that if push came to shove, she’d do what she said. And she’d win. After all, he’d been “Bad” Billy Coburn all his life. He’d stood before enough judges for doing the wrong thing that he’d seen how they operated. Judges listened to what you had to say, then did what they damn well pleased. He didn’t trust a one of them.

He had a high school diploma, and he’d taken a few night college courses in Amarillo, but that was the extent of his education. He had a job, but Blackjack had threatened to take that away from him—and would—if he didn’t get out of Bitter Creek. He could get another job. But would it be good enough to convince a judge he was financially stable?

And he was a single male parent. Mothers usually got children who were as young as Will. Not always, of course. But often enough to make Billy’s skin get up and crawl every time he thought of facing a judge who had the power to take Will away from him.

If he’d had the money, he’d gladly have paid it to Debbie Sue. He would even have swallowed his pride and
gone to Blackjack for cash, if he’d thought there was a snowball’s chance in hell he’d get it. But there wasn’t.

Billy had no idea how he could come up with that kind of money. His parents’ ranch, the C-Bar, was mortgaged to the hilt, and his stepfather had run it into the ground. They had a few head of Angus cattle, but the ranch made ends meet with the stipend Blackjack had promised to pay his mother and sister if Billy went away and left Summer alone. Even that would disappear, he was sure, if he stayed in town more than twenty-four hours.

The day Billy finally told Debbie Sue he didn’t have $50,000 and never would, she’d begun court proceedings, telling him to get the money or give up Will.

He would never give up his son.

But what was the judge going to say when he found out that, not only was Billy unmarried and unemployed, but he had the additional costs of caring for a sick mother and a pregnant teenage sister?

He could run. But what kind of life would Will have if Billy kidnapped his son and they ended up looking over their shoulders for the rest of their lives?

“I’ll be fine, Billy.”

“What?” Billy had been so lost in his thoughts that he’d forgotten Emma was sitting across from him.

“I’ll be fine,” she repeated. “Now that you’re here—”

“I can’t stay, Emma.”

“Why not?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Take your time. Explain it to me. I’m not going anywhere.”

He wondered how much he should tell her. Not about the custody suit. He wasn’t sure he could talk about the possibility of losing Will without her seeing just how close to the edge he was. Maybe he should focus on what arrangements they should make for their mother.

“What’s Mom’s prognosis?” he asked.

“Not good. The cancer has invaded her organs—lungs, kidneys, liver. She’s dying, Billy.”

“How long does she have?”

“The doctor doesn’t know. A couple of months, maybe.”

“Isn’t there anything he can do for her? Chemotherapy? Radiation? Surgery?”

Emma shook her head. “It’s too late. He can give her something for the pain. She’s going to need care. With everything I have to do around the ranch and…” She smoothed her nightgown over her rounded abdomen. “And other things… I realized I couldn’t do it all alone. So I called you.”

Billy shoved a hand through his hair and blew out a gusty breath. “How would you feel about selling the ranch?”

“What would that accomplish? The shape it’s in, no one would pay much for it. Except maybe the Blackthornes. They’d buy it for the land.”

Billy grimaced. “Mom paid too high a price to get this place. I’d hate like hell giving it back to Blackjack for nothing.”

“That’s not the worst of it,” Emma said. “Where would Mom and I go? Is your place in Amarillo big enough for the four—” She patted her stomach and revised, “The five of us?”

“There’s barely room for me and Will.”

“So selling this place is out. Any other ideas?”

Billy swallowed the last of his bourbon and set the jar on the table. “Let me sleep on it. Maybe something will come to me by morning.”

“I hope you have better luck than I’ve had,” Emma said. “I’ve gone round and round with this in my head, and I haven’t figured out a solution to the problem.”

“I’ll think of something,” Billy said.

Because if he didn’t, he was going to lose his son.

Billy’s stomach turned over.

By the time the sun rose again, he had to come up with a plan. He wasn’t giving up Will. That simply wasn’t going to happen. No matter what he had to do.

S
UMMER WOKE UP FEELING UNHAPPY AND DESPERATE
and reckless. If only Billy hadn’t shown up in town last night. If only he’d stayed away two weeks longer. His sudden reappearance had turned her life upside down.

She’d tossed and turned all night, unable to decide what she should do. Her brothers had all made lives for themselves that took them away from the ranch. Trace had inherited a cattle station in Australia. Clay was the attorney general of Texas. And Owen was a Texas Ranger. All she’d ever wanted was to one day be mistress of Bitter Creek. Could she marry Geoffrey knowing that she was doing it simply to realize her dream?