Part 3 (2/2)
”Please don't do this, Jackson. You're my husband. I love you. I always have. I'll never give you up.”
Summer watched, her face pale, her heart skittering, as her father reached up and yanked her mother's arms from around his neck.
”It's over, Eve. You can stop fighting now. I'm leaving. And I'm not coming back.”
”We're still married,” she said. ”If you go to that woman you'll be an adulterer. That won't help your case in court.”
Her father glanced significantly at Summer, and then at her mother. ”I think I've got enough evidence of my own to counter whatever charges of adultery you lay against me.”
Summer choked back a moan.
Eve glanced at her, then turned to Blackjack and said in a soft, silky voice, ”You'd tell the world that your daughter's a b.a.s.t.a.r.d?”
”The only person I was ever worried might find out the truth already has,” he said. ”Summer knows she's my daughter in every way that matters.”
That silenced her mother. And filled an empty place inside Summer that she hadn't acknowledged was there.
In the tense quiet, Blackjack walked to the double doors, opened one, and closed it behind him.
Summer glanced at her mother, who seemed to deflate like a balloon. She'd never been close to her mother, hadn't hugged her in recent memory. Yet her mother seemed truly devastated by Blackjack's defection.
She took a step forward and said, ”Momma?”
The virulent look in her mother's eyes stopped her in place. ”This is all your fault.”
”What?”
”Listening at closed doors. Telling secrets you aren't supposed to know, that you wouldn't know if you weren't spying on your parents.”
Summer felt the words like a whiplash.
”I hope you're proud of yourself, Missy,” her mother said. ”Breaking up your parents' marriage.”
”That's not fair!” Summer said. ”I couldn't help hearing what I did. You were yelling and screaming and-”
”You didn't have to tell him the truth. You didn't have to tell him you know.”
”I didn't tell him, Billy did!” The instant the words were out, Summer knew she never should have uttered them.
”That d.a.m.ned b.a.s.t.a.r.d son of his! I should have known. Bad seed, both of you.”
Summer was appalled at the words coming out of her mother's mouth. ”I am not-”
The smirk on her mother's face shut her up. Because the truth was, her real father was a convicted murderer. Oh, G.o.d. She couldn't stand this. She understood exactly how her father felt. She wanted to leave this place and never come back.
Except Bitter Creek was all she'd ever wanted. Now it seemed the ranch would be gone, sold away to strangers. And what would happen to her? ”Please, Momma, couldn't you let Daddy have the ranch?”
”All that will be left of this empire of his when I'm done is little bitty pieces.” She paused, her eyes narrowing, before she added, ”Unless you'd be willing to marry Geoffrey after all.”
”What?”
”I don't wish to call the governor of Texas and tell him my daughter's wedding has been canceled. Not to mention the other dignitaries I've invited, and the time and trouble I've been through to make this the social event of the season. I know you want Bitter Creek. So t.i.t for tat. You marry Geoffrey, and I might be willing to give Bitter Creek to the two of you as a wedding present.”
”How is that possible?” Summer said.
”You heard your father. He doesn't want this place. And I don't intend to let him keep it if he tries to divorce me. The choice is up to you. I can cut Bitter Creek up into pieces and get rid of it, or I can make it a wedding gift to the two of you.”
Summer's heart was pounding so hard it hurt. ”But I don't love Geoffrey.” And he doesn't love me enough to fight for me.
”Think about it,” she said. ”You have until tomorrow morning.”
”Momma, please-”
”Don't cry, Summer. Babies cry. I find it irritating in the extreme.”
Summer swiped at her eyes with both hands, but when the tears were finally gone, so was her mother. All Summer saw was the hem of her peignoir, floating up the stairs.
”This can't be happening,” Summer said as she turned and walked back to the wing chair in front of the fire. She sank into it and stared into the flames. ”This just can't be happening.”
But it was. And she had until morning to make up her mind what to do.
Chapter 3.
WE'RE ALMOST THERE, WILL,” BILLY SAID IN A soothing voice. ”One more mile. A couple more minutes. Then I'll get you out of that car seat and get you dry and into bed.”
The truck had dropped into a deep pothole in the dirt road that led from the highway to the Coburn ranch house, and the portable crib, stroller, and high chair which Billy had thrown into the back of the pickup when he'd packed so hurriedly had ricocheted noisily around the metal truck bed. At the crash of metal on metal, Will had woken with a cry of alarm and, when he realized he was still strapped into the car seat, began wailing miserably.
Billy had offered his fifteen-month-old son the warm bottle of milk, and Will had sucked it down like a starving calf. But the bottle was empty now, and Will was struggling against the car seat restraints, protesting his confinement with all his might and begging to be let out.
”Out, Daddy.”
Billy felt his gut tighten. He hated the sound of his child in distress. But it made no sense to stop when he was so close to home.
”Just a little longer, Will,” he said, brus.h.i.+ng his hand across Will's baby curls. ”You've been such a good boy. We'll be home soon.”
”Out, Daddy. Out,” Will cried woefully. And then, more angrily, ”Out out out!”
Billy couldn't blame his son for being cranky. He felt the same way himself. Especially after his idiotic behavior in the parking lot of the Armadillo Bar.
He had thought he'd grown up since he'd left Bitter Creek. All it had taken was fifteen minutes with the people he'd known all his life, and he'd reverted to being Bad Billy Coburn.
Given a choice, Billy never would have come back to Bitter Creek. But he hadn't been given much choice. His nineteen-year-old sister Emma had called him last night in hysterics.
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