How to Wrangle a Cowboy (31 page)

Lindsey nodded, miserable.

Grace leaned forward, giving Lindsey’s hands an earnest shake. “I know all about William Ward. And I know Bud wasn’t his father, though it’s natural he’d like to think so.”

Lindsey wanted her grandmother to be right. She wanted her granddad to be the man she’d always believed him to be. But maybe Grace was in denial.

As the waitress delivered their food, Lindsey silently berated herself, questioning every decision she’d made. She should have trusted Shane and told him first. Then she could have brought him along. After all, he knew her grandparents much better than she did.

She should have told Grace right away. Then this whole thing would be over by now, and she’d know the truth.

She should, she should, she should…
Her grandmother was right. She should stop
shoulding
on herself, stay calm, and help her grandmother cope.

“Grandma, I couldn’t believe it. I still don’t—I don’t think I do, anyway. But he looks just like Granddad.”

Grace took a healthy bite of her sandwich and chewed, then washed it down with a sip of iced tea. “Let me tell you a story.”

Lindsey wanted to remind her grandmother that they were dealing with reality, not fiction, but there was no stopping Grace once she’d launched a story.

“Do you remember Bud’s brother? Your uncle Dave?” Grace asked.

Lindsey tilted her head, bringing up a shadowy memory from the past. “Sort of. I remember being kind of scared of him. Didn’t he die?”

“Yes, he did. You were scared of him because he was a drunk, Lindsey. A mean drunk. And he died just after his son was born.”

“His son? I have a cousin?” Lindsey had always bemoaned her tiny family, especially after her mother passed away. But she wasn’t sure she was happy to see all these new relatives and potential complications coming out of the woodwork at this particular moment.

“Uncle David’s son was William Ward.”

Lindsey had stopped eating long before, and now she clapped her hand over her mouth. “He’s not Bud’s son? He’s Dave’s?”

Grace nodded. “Dave died in a drunk driving accident just after Bill was born. Dave was the drunk, and he killed some poor girl. We never cared much for Dave’s wife, but Bud always tried to help the boy, sending him money every month. He even sent Bill to college.”

Lindsey’s heart was skipping and stumbling as she tried to absorb this new version of reality. It rang true, but then again, it was what she wanted to believe. She needed to be cautious.

“If Bud sent him to college, why is he asking for more?”

Grace suddenly looked her age. “Bill saw Bud’s name on a check and convinced himself he was his father. He and his mother were living in California then, and she encouraged him in that belief.” Her lips thinned to a grim line. “He finally contacted us after college—after everything was paid for and the money stopped coming.”

Lindsey nodded.

“He knocked on our door one day, loaded for bear. Wanted to know why Bud was such a lousy father, never visited, all that sort of stuff.” She sighed, dabbing the corners of her mouth with her napkin. “He was there to ‘claim his birthright,’ he said.”

“So you told him who his real father was?”

Grace nodded. “It was a very rude awakening, though Bud tried to be kind.”

Grace waved away the waitress, who was hovering over her nearly empty plate. Lindsey had barely started her sandwich, but Grace had decimated her own in record time, despite the storytelling. She might have looked delicate, but she had the appetite of a stevedore.

“So he knows.” Lindsey realized she’d been clenching her teeth, and now a headache was throbbing in her temples. “He’s lying.”

“He’s lying.”

Lindsey still couldn’t navigate the sea of facts and lies sloshing around in her brain.

“But he threatened to go to you, to tell you Bud had an affair.”

“He was bluffing.” Grace leaned forward and placed her hand on Lindsey’s. “And it almost worked. If you hadn’t told me, I never would have known what was going on.”

Lindsey picked up her sandwich, suddenly ravenous.

“You have to trust people, dear. Did you think I was too fragile for the truth? And how could you believe such a thing of your grandfather?”

“It was hard to believe,” Lindsey said. “But he looked so much like him, and he said he’d prove it with a DNA test.” She took a big bite of her sandwich, chewing and swallowing while she thought about her new reality. “I’d forgotten all about Uncle Dave. I think I only met him that one time, or I would have figured it out. I knew it had to be wrong.”

“Your grandfather loved me,” Grace said. “Me, and only me.” She got a foggy, faraway look in her eyes, and Lindsey knew what she was about to say, so the two of them said it in unison.

“Wild love.”

Grace smiled, and Lindsey felt as if someone had turned up the lights, both inside and out. The bar lighting hadn’t changed, but coincidentally, a ray of sun filtered through a layer of dark, distant clouds outside the window.

“Tell Bill Ward to get lost,” Grace said. “I’m sorry to be that way, but he’s no better than his father was. He wants a free ride, and he’ll work harder to steal than he will to earn an honest living. I don’t know what it is with some people.”

“I feel sorry for him.”

“That’s because you’re a sweet girl.” Grace patted Lindsey’s hand. “He doesn’t deserve your pity. Bud did much more than he had to.”

“It sounds that way. It’s just sad that I had such a great family, and he had—I don’t know, a mother who lied to him, and a father who drank too much and died.”

“You had your own misfortunes.”

Lindsey nodded, playing with her fork. Her mother had coped with cancer all through Lindsey’s high school years and passed away when Lindsey was just eighteen. Her father had been so exhausted by the struggle that he’d bailed on both of them before the body grew cold. He’d remarried soon after Lindsey’s mom died, and Lindsey was sure he’d been having an affair with his new wife while her mother lay dying. She didn’t see him now. Didn’t even talk to him. He’d moved on, and so had she.

Unfortunately, she’d moved on to Rodger.

But that chapter of her life was over, and she was about to start a new one. Her experiences with men thus far had been pretty poor, so if she had any sense, she’d start it alone. But she wasn’t sure she had a whole lot of sense—and if she did, it all flew right out of her head every time she saw Shane Lockhart.

Grace reached over and patted Lindsey’s hand. “I’m glad you’re back, dear. I’m sorry Bud chased you off the way he did. We should have stood by you, no matter what your decision.” She sighed, shaking her head. “Men.”

“It wasn’t Granddad’s fault. I made a bad decision, and he was right to do everything in his power to stop me.” She sighed. “I’m just sorry I was too bullheaded to listen. And I’m really sorry I didn’t come back and apologize.” She sighed. “I just felt so stupid. Like a failure.”

“What did you fail at?”

Lindsey gave her grandmother a duh look. “Marriage.”

“You failed? It sounds to me like Rodger was the failure.”

Lindsey shrugged again. “That’s not what he’d say.”

“You care too much what other people think.” Grace leaned over and snatched a french fry from Lindsey’s plate. “Do you feel like a failure?”

Lindsey stared at the bubbles rising in her drink, watching them make their way to the surface and pop. She felt like one of them, suddenly weightless, tracing a crooked path upward toward freedom. She hadn’t made it to the surface yet, but with everything she learned, she got a little bit closer.

“I don’t feel like a failure.” She felt the same sudden joy that had struck her the other morning, when Shane had held her and spun. She’d watched a whole new world spinning around her—the fences, the horses, the trees, the far horizon—and now that world was hers.

Hers for real, with no strings attached.

She picked up a french fry and imagined it was William Ward. Biting its head off, she waved the headless corpse at her grandmother. “How could I be a failure when I faced up to William’s threats and told you the truth?”

“That’s right.” Grace contentedly munched her fry, then snatched another one. Lindsey pushed her plate toward her, but Grace pushed it back.

“It took me too long,” Lindsey said. “I should have…”

She smiled, remembering her grandmother’s admonition about “shoulding on herself.” She was done with that. She was a rancher now, strong and independent. A decision maker. A survivor.

“The ranch is mine.” She said the words slowly, savoring them, storing them away like jewels to be turned over in her hands, held up to the light, and treasured.

“You earned it,” Grace said.

“I got lucky. But that’s okay.” Lindsey could barely resist the urge to sweep Grace off her chair and dance her around the room. “I’m going to stay, Grandma. I’ll have to figure out what to do with my practice, but Ashley’s doing great with the guy who replaced me. Maybe he’ll replace me for good. He’ll have to buy me out.”

She had to resist yet another urge—the urge to rub her hands together at the thought of the money that sale would bring.

“So are you going to raise those wild African monkeys?” Grace asked with a mischievous smile.

Lindsey laughed. “No, I’m not starting a monkey farm anytime soon. Although that would be a fun way to torture Shane.”

“I think fun with Shane is an excellent idea, whether you add monkeys or not.”

“I don’t know.” Lindsey felt her face dimpling into a smile despite her best efforts. “He’s special, Grandma, but I don’t know if it’ll work out. He’s not the easiest man to deal with. And we’re a little different.” She raised a hand in a “stop” gesture. “And don’t tell me opposites attract. Opposites drive each other crazy.”

“Right. That’s how Bud and I managed for so long.” Grace cackled. “I drove that man crazy. And he loved it.”

She snatched up the check and Lindsey groaned. She hadn’t even seen the waitress set it down.

“Let me pay,” she said. “You just saved me two hundred thousand dollars. I think I can buy lunch.”

“Is that how much he wanted?” Grace straightened in her chair, and if blue eyes could blaze, hers did.

“He said it was less than half. He claimed he could have the whole thing if he took me to court.”

“Bastard. Son of a bitch.” Grace cocked her head, as if tasting the cusswords for the first time. Apparently she’d enjoyed the taste, because she was grinning with delight. “Fuckhead.”

“Grandma!” Lindsey fluttered a hand at her chest, faking shock, but she couldn’t help laughing.

Grace laughed along with her. “All right, you pay for lunch. But I’m driving us home. And I’m cussing out the other drivers.” She lifted her chin, the picture of defiance. “I might even flip them the bird.”

Lindsey frowned, wondering why she’d never seen Grace drive. “You know how, right?”

Proudly, Grace flashed her middle finger and giggled. Lindsey joined her.

“I figured you knew how to do
that
. I meant
driving
.”

“How hard can it be?” Grace said. “Stop, go, right, and left. Oh, and there are turn signals.” She lowered her brows. “Is there a hands-free device for my iPhone?”

“In Bud’s truck?”

The two of them laughed together. Bud had scorned technology, claiming he’d only use vehicles and devices he could fix himself. That had left out computers and most trucks built after 1980.

Lindsey assured herself it was natural that she’d never seen Grace drive. Being an old-fashioned guy, Bud had always driven when they were little. But while she might be old, Grace was anything but old-fashioned.

Lindsey tossed her the keys.

Chapter 39

Shane was watering the horses when Bud’s old truck spun into the drive and skidded around the turnout in front of the barn. It looped the loop a couple more times, then screeched to a stop so suddenly he staggered back against the barn, sloshing water down his boots.

Great. He’d spent half his afternoon wrangling chickens, of all things, and now Lindsey was driving drunk.

It shouldn’t have been so hard to deal with Sally and the two chicken friends Lindsey had brought home to join her, but although Shane had done his best to create the chicken palace of Lindsey’s dreams, the hens showed their gratitude by pecking his hands and arms half to death when he’d tried to make a few improvements to their stall. Maybe Sally was just a man hater. She was the biggest chicken, and the oldest. He was sure she was the ringleader in the plot against him.

He heard the telltale clicking of an overheated engine and knew Lindsey had been speeding as well as drinking. He never would have thought she’d be so careless—especially not with her grandmother along.

Then again, who would have thought she’d start up a man-hating chicken herd? The woman was full of surprises.

She climbed out of the passenger seat, shaky and pale.

Great. She was probably going to be sick, and—wait a minute.
The passenger side?

He was trying to wrap his head around that information when Grace hopped spryly from the driver’s side.

“That was fun,” she said. “Bud let me drive the tractor sometimes, but he wouldn’t let me drive the truck.”

Lindsey paled another shade or two. “You drove the car, though, right?”

Grace’s laugh tinkled like dime-store wind chimes. “Of course not. You know how old-fashioned Bud was. But I knew I could do it, and now I can cross it off my bucket list.” She mimed pulling a notebook from her pocket and crossing something off with a flourish, then thought a moment and checked off another. “I even flipped another driver the bird! Did you see his face, Lindsey?”

“I sure did.” Lindsey shuddered visibly. “It was very, very close after you sailed through that stop sign.”

Grace gave her a dismissive wave. “I didn’t see any stop sign. Now, let’s see.” She pretended to consult the next item on the make-believe list. “Next is skydiving!”

Lindsey clutched the roof of the car, white-knuckled.

“How far did you let her drive?” Shane asked.

“All the way home from the Red Dawg.” Lindsey grimaced. “I think I’m going to lose my Rip Roarin’ Pulled Pork Sandwich.”