The Bull Rider's Twins (2 page)

Judah shoved back his chair.

“Shall I say all the family will be in attendance?” she asked, and he yelled over his shoulder, “I wouldn't miss it,” as he dashed out into the hot dry wind. Darla hadn't wanted any emotional connection between them. And he, spare Romeo that he was, had fallen into her arms and dreamed of a future.

He was a fool. But not a fool on his way to the altar, and there was something to be said for that.

Still, Judah wondered if he heard an empty echo in his bravado. And his broken heart drove him onto the range, riding hell-bent to nowhere.

 

A
N HOUR LATER
, Judah was positive he saw the mystical Diablos down in a canyon, well past the working oil derricks and the fenced cattle land. Legend said that the wild horses ran free on Rancho Diablo, and no one could get close to them because they were spirits. They were also a portent of something magical to come. The Callahans didn't see the herd of horses often, but when they did, they respected the moment.

They were not spirit horses, as far as Judah was concerned. He could see them drinking from a small stream that threaded through the dust-painted canyon, though his eyes blurred in the bright sunlight. Nearby, a large cactus offered a little shade, but Judah ignored it, easing back in the saddle to watch the horses. Their untamed beauty called to his own wild side.

They turned as one and floated deeper into the canyon.
Judah followed, watching for snakes, hawks and other critters. He and his brothers had explored this canyon many times, knew all its secrets.

His horse went to the thin stream, too. Judah slid from the saddle and took a long drink from the pale water. When he looked up, he saw a rock shelf he didn't remember.

Closer inspection showed the opening to a cave so hidden from the main canyon path that he would never have seen it if he hadn't bent down to drink. Cautiously, he went inside, his gun drawn in case of wild creatures he might startle.

But the cave was empty now—clearly some kind of once-used mine. Judah went past a rough shaft and a basic pulley and cart.

He'd found the legendary silver mine.

But it wasn't much of one, and appeared to have been long deserted. This couldn't be why Bode was so determined to get Rancho Diablo land—unless he thought there was more silver to be discovered. Still, what difference could silver mean to the wealthy man? And even if the Callahans were forced to sell Rancho Diablo, they would make certain they retained the mineral rights.

A loomed rug lay on the cave floor, hidden from casual visitors. There was also evidence of footprints, visible in the fading light that filtered into the cave. Still deeper, what seemed to be a message in some cryptic language was written on the wall, and it looked fresh. He touched the letters, smearing them a little. Underneath, silver coins and a few silver bars were stacked on a flat rock, like an offering.

Judah realized he'd stumbled on a smuggling operation, or perhaps a thruway for travelers who shouldn't be using Rancho Diablo land.

He left the cave, grabbed his horse's reins and swung into the saddle to ride in the opposite direction the Diablos had
taken, as he wondered who might be using Callahan land and why.

For the moment, he would say nothing, he decided—until he understood more about why he'd been led to this place.

 

T
HE NEXT DAY
, Judah realized drastic steps would have to be taken. The whole town of Diablo, it seemed, was atwitter over Darla's impending marriage. No detail was too small to be hashed over—the bridal gown she'd bought from the store she co-owned with Jackie Samuels Callahan, Pete's wife; the diamante-covered shoes she'd purchased. She'd scheduled an appointment for her hair, which had been dutifully reported. It would be worn long, crowned with an illusion veil that had orange blossoms cascading at the hem, which would just touch her shoulders.

Judah was sick to death of details. He wouldn't know an orange blossom if it grew out of his boot.

Strangely, the bride had not been seen since her invitations were mailed. Nor had the groom, though he was expected in town any day now. Judah knew him. Sidney Tunstall was a popular rodeo doctor and a one-time bronc buster, a man with a spine like a spring, who seemed to be kissed by good fortune. He was also wealthy. And he'd been after Darla for some time, if scuttlebutt was to be believed. Tall and lean and focused, the doctor seemed like a guy who loved what he did and did it well.

Which pretty much stank, but that was how it went. A man could lose to a better rival if he had slow-moving feet, and Judah reckoned his feet had been slower than most.

He flung himself inside the bunkhouse, anxious to sit alone in front of the fireplace to gather his thoughts.

It wasn't to be. Jonas was like a hulking rock in the den, taking up space with Sam and Rafe. And they'd been talking
about him, Judah realized, by the way they shut their yaps the instant he entered.

“What's up?” he asked, eyeing them. “Don't stop talking about me just because I'm here.”

“All right,” Sam said. “Are you going to the wedding?”

The
wedding. As if it was the only wedding in Diablo.

Actually, he hadn't heard of any other Diablo weddings lately, and if there'd been some, Fiona would definitely have been keeping the scoreboard updated for everyone, particularly him and his brothers. He sighed. “I might. Then again, I mightn't.”

Jonas shrugged. “Let us know if you need anything.”

“Yeah,” Rafe said, “short of a shot of pride.”

Judah blinked. “What's that supposed to mean?”

Sam gazed at him. “Look, bro. It's not like we haven't known forever that you've been carrying an inextinguishable torch for Darla Cameron. What we can't figure out is why you're letting her waltz off with another man.”

“Maybe that's not how I see it,” Judah said, “and maybe it's none of your business, anyway.”

Jonas leaned back. “We could be wrong. Maybe you haven't always been in love with her.”

“Darla and I are friends. That's it.”

Sam sniffed. “As long as you're cool with it, we are, too. We support you, whatever you decide. I mean, if you get an itch to crawl through her bedroom window, we'll hold the ladder for you.”

“No ladders will be necessary.” Judah tried not to think about the few moments he'd held Darla in his arms. “She's chosen her man, and—”

“Ah-ha!” Rafe exclaimed. “You admit she didn't choose you!”

“She didn't choose any of you, either. It's not a special situation,” Judah said, feeling cranky.

“So you admit you were in a position to be chosen,” Sam said, sounding like the lawyer he was. “You were a candidate, if a slightly lazy one. But there's still time to present your case. Females change their minds like the wind. And ladies love it when a last-minute challenger shows up to yodel his heartstrings under ye olde bedroom window. I say go for it. Yodel away. You can borrow my guitar.”

“Darla's doing just fine,” Judah said. “Everything is in the works. She's got her shoes, her flowers and no doubt something blue.”

“The really blue thing at that wedding is going to be you,” Jonas said, “if you don't get up off your duff and speak before the forever-hold-your-peace.”

There was no use. He was going to be harried to death by the people who should have supported his wish to be a silent sufferer. And this was light treatment, Judah realized, compared to what he'd probably be treated to in town, and especially at the wedding. Pitying looks, questioning gazes—

“What about the baby?” Sam asked. “What if it's yours?”

Judah frowned, aware of a sudden urge to stuff a fist in Sam's mouth. “What baby?”

Rafe studied him. “You know Darla is pregnant.”

“Is that known?” Judah asked, his heart beating hard. “Or is it gossip based on her apparently whirlwind marriage?”

“She was seen buying a pregnancy test a while ago,” Jonas said with a shrug. “This is a small town, and though she sent a friend in to purchase it, the bag made a clear exchange, which was duly noted by several people.”

“Who were spying like old-time geezers,” Judah said, not happy to hear confirmation of his own suspicions. “It doesn't mean she's pregnant. It could have been a negative test. She could have been giving it to Jackie, for all you know. And,” he said, finishing with a flourish, “there's every possibility she's getting married because she wants to, and is in love, and
the lure of owning her own bridal shop finally got to her. If you owned a machine shop, wouldn't it kill you if you could never use the tools?”

“Boy, are you caging your inner lion,” Rafe said. “Hey, we've got your back, bro. We know how to shine the old badge of pride. No one will ever get from us how you got left in the dust.” He shook his head, more sympathetic than Judah could stand.

“That's it,” he said. “I've just seen a flash of my future, and I'm taking a rain check on it. The only way to get away from you bunch of know-it-alls is to disappear on you.” Judah waved an expansive arm. “With no forwarding address. Don't even try to find me. Consider me gone with the wind, in order to save the dregs of my life.” He crammed his hat on his head and turned to depart, with one last thought making him swing back around to his brothers, who watched him with open curiosity.

“And you can tell everybody in Diablo that my heart was not broken, thank you very much. You can tell them that rodeo was always my only love, and is to this day.” He made a grandiose exit, proud of himself for the charade he'd perpetrated.

No one would ever know he was lying like a rug.

His brothers looked at each other after Judah left.

“Are we going to tell him that the boxes of condoms we all received at Creed's bachelor party were gag gifts? Creed's parting wish that we'd all get hung by our own family jewels?” Sam asked. “It's possible Judah didn't get the joke.”

“I think we leave it alone,” Jonas said. “Judah doesn't seem to want to consider that the child Darla might be carrying is his.”

Rafe nodded. “
If
she is four months pregnant, as we hear she is, and the birth coincides with Creed and Aberdeen's wedding night, then it may be obvious.”

“Why wouldn't Darla tell Judah?” Sam's forehead wrinkled. “That's the only thing that's not making sense. Wouldn't she just say, hey, that night of passion resulted in some passion fruit?”

“They've been running away from each other for so long, admitting that she's pregnant by Judah is the last thing Darla would do. He never acts as if he likes her, much less loves her. Ladies do not dig the strong, silent type when they need some reassurance, and Judah's been playing the role of Macho Man with gusto,” Jonas said. “What woman wants a man if she thinks he doesn't love her?”

“Anyway, we're in way over our heads here,” Rafe said. “We could have this all wrong. Maybe they never did the deed that night. Maybe Creed never saw them go off together. Darla could be pregnant by the bronc buster doctor, not that anyone ever mentioned them dating. It's not like we can ask her, because she's not even telling anyone she's in a family way. Rumors may be flying, but no one's going to mention them to the blushing bride.”

They thought about the problem some more, then Jonas shrugged. “We'll know by November, I guess.”

“Or not,” Sam said. “She may choose to never reveal the real father.”

“And Judah loses out on being a dad,” Rafe mused. “Which would really be a loss, because he'd probably make a decent one. I mean, if Creed and Pete can do it, why not Judah?”

But there was nothing they could do about it. Darla was getting married, and Judah was gone, and neither one of them seemed to care that true love was being held captive by stubborn hearts.

“I hope I'm not that dumb when a beautiful woman loves me,” Sam said with a sigh, and both his brothers immediately said, “You will be.”

“But not as dumb as Judah,” Sam muttered to himself, listening to Judah's truck roar away.

“I say it's time we engage Aunt Fiona,” Jonas suggested, and his brothers nodded. “This situation could be dire.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Sam said, “but Judah certainly isn't going to do anything to save himself.”

Rafe, Sam and Jonas went to the kitchen to find Fiona. As a rule, she or Burke could be found there, or nearby, at least. It was nearly the dinner hour, a very odd time for Judah to decide to depart, which just showed that even an empty stomach hadn't deterred his boneheadedness.

The kitchen was empty. The scents of wondrous culinary delights (Fiona could cook like no other, and Burke was no slouch in their shared gastronomic hobby) were absent. Rafe felt his stomach rumble and figured this might be an unannounced catch-as-catch-can night. They had those at Rancho Diablo, though rarely. Usually on the nights their fearless aunt had bingo or her book reading club or a church group, she cut them loose. But at least a pie would be left on the kitchen counter, with a note on the Today's Meal chalkboard that read something to the effect of “Tough Luck! You're Stuck!”

Tonight, all that was on the counter was a single bar of something silver. Rafe, Jonas and Sam crowded around it, perplexed.

“That's not cherry pie,” Sam said.

“It's mined silver,” Jonas said. “Mined and pressed into a bar. See the .925 on it?”

Rafe blinked. “Why would Fiona leave us a bar of silver?”

“All those years people have whispered about there being a
silver mine on our land suddenly comes to mind,” Sam said, his voice hushed.

Rafe's gaze went back to the bar. “We've been over every inch of Rancho Diablo. There's no way.”

“I don't know,” Jonas said. “Why else would Aunt Fiona have a silver bar?”

“Because she's putting it in her stock portfolio,” Sam said. “She bought some through a television advertisement, or a jeweler, to diversify her nest egg. It's not sound to leave all one's investments in the stock market or the national currency. She's just taken physical possession of some of her holdings, I would guess.”

“But what if it's not part of her nest egg?” Rafe asked. “What if there really is a silver mine on Rancho Diablo? That would explain why Bode Jenkins is so hot to get this place.”

They heard Burke whistling upstairs, and the chirping sound of Fiona's voice.

“Quick,” Jonas said. “Outside.”

They hustled out like furtive thieves. Rafe closed the door carefully behind him. His brothers had already skedaddled down the white graveled drive toward the barns.

Rafe hurried after them. “Why don't we ask her what it is? What if there is silver on the ranch? What if Bode is sniffing around for it?”

“Then she probably wouldn't have left proof of its existence lying out on the kitchen counter,” Sam said. “By now, Bode's had this place satellite mapped, I'm sure. He's had the geographic and mineral composition of the land gone over. If there was silver around here, he would know before we would.”

“All I'm suggesting,” Rafe said, “is that maybe it's time we quit being so worried about offending Fiona. That we just ask her.”

His brothers stopped, gave him a long eyeballing. Rafe
shrugged. “I mean, what the hell?” he asked. “If we have a silver mine, hurrah for us. It doesn't change anything.”

“If there's a silver mine, and Fiona's been putting away dividends all these years, I don't want to know.” Jonas shrugged. “Look, I love Fiona. I don't give a damn if there's solid gold under this ranch from corner to corner, and she plans to ferret all of it off like a conquistador. I really don't care. So I'm not asking.”

Jonas had a point. Rafe didn't want to hurt Fiona's feelings, either. She'd given up a pretty decent life in Ireland to come take care of them, which couldn't have been easy. They had not been a snap to raise. “All right,” Rafe said, “by now she's probably hidden the damn thing. So can we go back now, act like we didn't see it and go over the Judah problem with her? I'm pretty certain we need a guiding hand here.”

They went back to the house, and this time, Jonas banged on the kitchen door.

Fiona flung it open. “For heaven's sake. Can't you open a door by yourselves? Three big strong men can't figure out how to use the key?” She glanced at the doorknob. “The door isn't locked. Why are you knocking, like this isn't your house?”

They stared at their tiny aunt. Her eyes were kind, her voice teasing, but she seemed truly mystified. Rafe swallowed. “Aunt Fiona, we wonder if you have a moment so we might pick your brain?”

“So you're standing on the porch? You won't pick it out there. When you're ready, come inside.”

They went in, glancing at each other like errant school boys. “You bring up the joke condoms,” Rafe said quietly to Jonas. “You're the oldest. I'm not comfortable talking about sex with my aunt.”

Jonas straightened his shoulders. “It's not a conversation I want to have, but no doubt she's heard worse.”

“That's true,” Sam said. “You go for it, Jonas. We support you.”

Fiona waved them into the kitchen, where they leaned against the counters. The silver bar was gone, which Rafe had expected. His brothers gave him the same “You see?” look, to which he simply shrugged. He was more worried about condoms than silver bars at the moment.

“Rafe wants to tell you something,” Jonas said. “Right, Rafe?”

He gulped, straightened. “I guess so.” He flashed Jonas an irate glare with his eyes. “Judah has departed.”

Fiona nodded. “He said he longed to test his mettle on the back of an angry bull. I told him to have at it. Judah's been restless lately.”

Rafe swallowed again. “Aunt Fiona,” he said carefully, not sure how to begin, and then Sam said, “Oh, come on. It's not that hard.”

Rafe gave his brother a heated look, wishing he could swing his boot against Sam's backside.

“Spit it out,” Fiona said. “You're acting like you have something horrible to tell me. I've got butterflies jumping in my stomach just looking at you, like the time you came to tell me you'd burned down the schoolhouse. You hadn't, but you thought you had—”

Rafe cleared his throat. “Creed gave us all boxes of prank condoms at his bachelor party as a send-off.”

Fiona looked at him. “Prank condoms?”

He nodded. “Different colors, different, uh, styles. In the box, there were ‘trick' condoms. You were supposed to guess which of the twelve was the trick.”

Fiona wrinkled her nose. “What ape thought of that?”

“Creed,” Sam and Jonas said.

“I mean, the product.” Fiona sighed. “Only an imbecile
would buy… Oh, never mind. None of you were dumb enough not to get the joke, so ha-ha.”

“We hear rumors,” Jonas said, trying to help his brother out, for which Rafe was relieved, “that Darla might be expecting a baby.”

Fiona frowned. “What does that have to do with us?”

“Well, is she?” Sam asked.

“It seems there may be a reason for the marital haste.” Fiona opened the refrigerator and took out a strawberry icebox pie. She cut them each a generous slice, and the brothers eagerly gathered around with grateful thanks. “I have a Books'n'Bingo Society meeting tonight, and I intend to ask my dear friend about this rumor.”

“Creed thinks,” Sam said, around a mouthful of pie, “that Darla and Judah may have had a…”

She glanced at him. “Romantic interlude?”

All three brothers nodded.

“Did you ask Judah?” she inquired.

They shook their heads.

She gazed at all of them. “Do we suspect joke condoms might come into play?”

“We fear they might have,” Sam said. “They could have. I threw my Trojan horse away,” he said hastily. “But then, I'm a lawyer. I read fine print. When a box says ‘Gag gift only, not for use in preventing pregnancy,' I hurl it like a ticking bomb into the nearest trash can.”

“Too bad,” Fiona shot back. “I like babies, and four of you are dragging your feet.”

“Worse than dragging our feet. Judah's gone away with a broken heart,” Rafe said.

“And the joke may be on him?” Fiona eyed each of them. “You believe Darla's marrying this other man as a cover for a relationship she may have had with Judah?”

“What we're theorizing,” Jonas said, “is that he may have
thought the condoms
were
the gag gift, not that they were useless.” Jonas sighed. “I, too, threw Creed's gift in the trash. I didn't want hot-pink condom sex with anyone I know.”

They all looked at him with raised brows.

“I threw mine away, too,” Rafe admitted. “I'm afraid of children. At least I think I am. Or maybe I'm afraid of getting married,” he said cheerfully. “When I watched Creed go down like a tranquilized bull, I said, ‘Rafe, you are not your twin.'”

“It's possible Judah tossed them as well,” Fiona said. “And for all we know, Darla isn't pregnant, although I wouldn't bank on it at this point.” She wrapped up the strawberry pie and returned it to the fridge. “Rafe, run upstairs and look in Judah's nightstand, since that's where he stayed that night because of the wedding guest housing situation.”

“Not me,” Rafe said, “I never snoop.”

Fiona elevated a brow. “We can't let him go all over several states rodeoing and maybe scattering his seed, so to speak. If he took the condoms with him, and if he honestly needs glasses so much that he can't read a box—”

“Who reads the label on a box of condoms besides Sam?” Rafe said. “You just whip the foil packet out and—”

“Go,” Fiona said. “Your brother's future may be at stake.”

“I'm not doing it,” Rafe said, and he meant it.

Fiona plucked three straws from a broom. “Draw,” she told the brothers. “Short straw plays detective.”

A moment later, Rafe held the short straw. “It's not fair,” he grumbled. “I'm the existential one in the family. I believe in reading, and thinking deep thoughts, not nosing into places I don't belong.” But he went up the stairs. In his heart Rafe knew that Judah and Darla belonged together. But they couldn't just fall into each other's arms and make it easy on everybody. “Leaving me with the difficult tasks,” he muttered, reluctantly opening his brother's nightstand.

And there was the black box of joke condoms with the hot-pink smiley faces, peace signs and lip prints.

“Hurry up!” Fiona bellowed from the stairs. “You're not panning for gold! The suspense is killing us.”

Rafe grunted. He opened the box.

There were nine left.

“Uh-oh,” he muttered, and went downstairs with his report.

“Three?” Fiona said, when Rafe revealed his findings. “Three have been…are missing?” She looked distressed. “I hope Judah hasn't had more than one situation where such an item might be called for.”

They all looked at her, their faces questioning.

“One woman,” Fiona clarified, and they all said, “Oh, yeah, yeah, right.”

The brothers glanced at each other, worried.

Rafe shifted. “What do we do now?”

They all gazed expectantly at Fiona. This was the counsel they had come to hear.

She shrugged and put on her wrap. “Nothing you can do. No one can save a man if he decides to give up his ground to the enemy. Faint heart never won fair lady and all that. Good night, nephews,” she said. “Wish me luck at bingo tonight!”

And she tootled out the door.

The brothers looked after her.

“That was not helpful,” Sam said.

“I agree,” Rafe said. “I thought she'd give us the typical, in-depth Fiona strategy.”

“She's right,” Jonas said. “And we should be taking notes to remember this unfortunate episode in our brother's life.”

“We probably won't,” Rafe said morosely, and sat down to finish his pie. “I heard once that men are slow learners.” And he wasn't going to tell anyone that it was Judge Julie Jenkins, next-door ranch owner and Bode's daughter, who had thrown that pearl of wisdom at his head.

D
ARLA LOOKED AT
Jackie Callahan, co-owner of the Magic Wedding Dress Shop. “Pull harder,” she said. “I'm not letting out my dress. I just bought it.”

Jackie tugged at the fabric. “The satin just doesn't want to give. And I don't think it's good for the baby…?.”

Darla looked at herself in the triple mirror. “I've been eating a lot of strawberries. I crave them.”

“That shouldn't cause so much weight gain,” Jackie said. “Not that you look like you've gained
so
very much.”

“On ice cream,” Darla said, aware that her friend was trying to be tactful. “Strawberries on top of vanilla ice cream.”

“Oh.” Jackie looked at her. “Maybe switch to frozen yogurt?”

“There's only a week before the wedding. I think the waistline isn't going backward on the measuring tape.” She looked at herself, turning around slowly, and then frowned. “Something's not right.”

“I think the dress is beautiful on you.”

“Thank you,” Darla murmured. “I'm not sure what's not quite right, but there's definitely something.”

“Nerves?” Jackie said. “Brides get them. They want everything to be perfect. We've certainly seen our share of Nervous Nells in here.”

“I'm not nervous,” Darla said.
What I am is not in love. And that's what's wrong. I'm not in love with the man I'm marrying. And he's not in love with me.

“Do you want to try a different gown?” Jackie asked, and Darla shook her head.

“No. This one will do.” She went to change. The gown was not what was wrong. She could wear a paper bag, or a gown fit for a royal princess, and it wouldn't matter.

“Well,” Jackie said as Darla came back out, “I think I know what the problem is.”

She looked at her, hoping her dear friend, business partner and maid of honor didn't.

“You're not wearing the magic wedding dress,” Jackie said. “You always said it was your dream gown.” She smiled at Darla. “It worked for me.”