The Sheriff's Son (17 page)

His smile still cruel and goading, he reached down and patted her cheek. “What's the hurry, honey? After all, time doesn't mean anything to you. Five years. Six years. The way you figure things, that doesn't mean anything to a man's life.”

Her heart pounding with both dread and anger, she slapped his hand away from her face. “You have been drinking!”

His blue eyes were suddenly twin glaciers. “Hellfire, Justine, I've never drunk alcohol, and you know it! But I do think we need a drink, all right. A toast of celebration.” He turned and motioned for her to follow him back to the kitchen.

Furious, Justine ran after him and grabbed his arm. “Damn it, Roy, I don't want a drink. I want you to tell me what's going on!”

He caught her by the hand and tugged her roughly down
the hallway. By the time they reached the kitchen, Justine was flushed and longing to kick him in the shins.

“It's hot in here,” she told him. “Why haven't you opened the windows, or turned on the air conditioner?”

“I haven't had time. I've been too busy thinking about you. But don't let the heat get you down, honey, ‘cause it's about to get hotter. Ready to do a little sweating?”

Jerking loose of him, she went over to the kitchen sink and shoved up the window, then pushed up two more that faced out toward the deck.

Roy opened the refrigerator and scanned the almost bare shelves. “Looks like it has to be orange juice or apple cider. Which do you want?”

“Neither,” she snapped. “I'm not thirsty.”

He made a tsking noise with his tongue. “Now, Justine, don't be unsociable. We're going to have a toast.”

“A toast to what?” she asked as he took two glasses down from the cabinet.

He was like some sort of mad scientist, she thought wildly. One who had brewed a strange concoction, drunk it and turned into a total stranger.

“Why, we're going to drink to three births, that's what.”

Her brows arched as she watched him fill the glasses with cider. The thought of taking one sip nearly made her vomit.

“Births? What births?”

Roy's blue eyes glittered strangely as he carried the glass of cider to her and pressed it in her hand.

“The three Murdock births. It's a joyous occasion, so let's drink up. This is Hondo Valley's finest cider. I just bought it a few days ago.”

He swallowed some of the apple drink. Her mind whirling with his strange innuendos, Justine simply stared at him.

“I don't know of any Murdock births,” she said flatly.

“Oh, that's right,” he drawled. “I forgot to give you the
news. The twins…Cute little Adam and Anna aren't just two babies that were dumped on the Bar M from out of the blue. They're your brother and sister.”

Justine felt as if he'd kicked her in the stomach. She tried to take a breath, but nothing seemed to fill her lungs.

The room began to sway, and she made a frantic grab for the cabinet counter behind her.

“You…aren't serious. The twins can't be my brother and sister!”

He shot her a look of feigned innocence. “Why can't they be?”

“Daddy is dead.”

His face grim now, Roy nodded. “Yes. He is. But count back, Justine. Your father was alive and well when the twins were conceived. He was still alive when they were born.”

Justine forced herself to mentally calculate how long it would take to get the twins to six months of age. Roy was right, she realized, as the time span fell into place. But it didn't make sense. How could it be? Her mother would have still been alive when the babies were conceived. Her father…She shuddered as her mind refused to accept the fact of his betrayal and deceit.

“Where did you hear such a thing? Has someone in town been gossiping to your deputies?”

His mouth twisted into a sneer. “A sheriff doesn't put stock in gossip, Justine, he has to deal with hard, cold facts. And I've got them. I've got the birth certificate to prove everything.”

He was telling the truth. She could see it on his face. But what he was saying was so shocking, so unbelievable, she simply couldn't fathom it.

“But the mother—that woman. Who is she? Why did she leave the twins?”

His eyes ran over her pale face, and for a moment Roy felt ashamed of himself for throwing the truth so bluntly in
her face. “Her name is Belinda Waller. She was living in Las Cruces at the time of the twins' birth. That's where your father's checks were going. To her. But whether it was money to keep her quiet or to support her, we won't have any idea until we find her.”

The twins, Adam and Anna, were her half brother and sister, she thought dazedly. She couldn't believe it and yet somehow it seemed right. The two babies had fit in with the family as if they truly belonged there. And now she knew why. They were Murdocks. Just like she and Rose and Chloe.

Her eyes lifted to his. “You said something about three births. Was there actually a set of triplets?”

What little compassion Roy had felt for her a second ago dissolved under a fresh rush of outrage.

“No,” he said tightly. “The third birth has nothing to do with the twins. This was a separate birth certificate. Charles Tomas Murdock. Born September twenty-fourth. Seven pounds and twelve ounces. Twenty-one inches long. Mother, Justine Murdock.” He took a step toward her, and was glad to see the last bit of color drain from her face. “Father, Roy Pardee.”

So he finally knew. It was all over, she thought as a lead weight hit the pit of her stomach. Or was it only the beginning?

She met the hard, accusing glare of his eyes. “How did you find out?”

“I have a very observant deputy on the case of the twins. While he was searching through the birth records in Las Cruces, he stumbled onto his boss's name. The rest, as they say, is…history.”

“I was trying to tell you last night. You wouldn't let me.”

He held up his hand. “Don't—don't even say it. Last night, a week ago. A month ago. What the hell difference would that have made?”

She suddenly felt so cold she was outwardly shivering. But how could that be, when the night was so hot and this house so stifling?

“You're right. It wouldn't make any difference,” she said through gritted teeth. “I carried Charlie in my womb for nine months alone. I went through eighteen long, excruciating hours of labor alone. I nursed him through his colic months, through his teething and temperatures, alone. When he woke in the night, crying and afraid, I comforted him alone. Because you weren't there. You weren't there through any of it. So don't try to act hurt with me, Roy Pardee. You don't know what
hurt
is.”

His whole face had turned to stone. “I wasn't there because you chose not to tell me about Charlie. You deliberately kept him from me!”

She was still gripping the glass of cider with one hand and the cabinet counter with the other. But in her mind's eye she was lunging at him, beating her fist against his chest. “You made your choice, Roy. You chose to marry Marla. She came first with you.”

“I thought she was pregnant with my child!”

“I
was
pregnant with your child, Roy. I gave birth to your son. Not Marla.”

“Why didn't you tell me?”

“And have you marry me out of obligation? No thanks: You didn't want a family then. And I was a fool for thinking you wanted one now!”

He stepped closer, but stopped himself from touching her. “I did want one. But just when I thought I could trust you, I find out you lied to me. You've been lying for six years!”

Suddenly she wanted to hurt him. She wanted him to feel the same pain she'd felt that day she left for Las Cruces, carrying their child inside her and knowing she could never tell him.

Her insides clawing with rage, she flung the glass of
cider straight into his face. The sweet liquid drenched his hair and shirt and dripped from his chin.

“You're not the victim here, Roy. Charlie is. And until you can see that, I don't want you around him!”

He wiped his face roughly against his shirtsleeve, then stared at her coldly. “Get out!”

“Gladly.”

Justine walked stiffly out of the house and down the steps of the deck. Levi met her on the ground and escorted her around to her pickup.

Too numb and shaky to even open the truck door, she sat down on the running board and stared up at the darkening sky. “I feel sorry for you, Levi,” she told the dog, who'd nudged his way between her knees. “Your master is a hard, selfish man.”

Levi let out a soulful whine. Justine bent forward and hugged the dog's neck. “I know, old boy,” she said through tear-blurred eyes. “You love him as much as I do.”

W
hen Roy came upon the scene, he saw that the woman was hysterical. Her Spanish came out in rapid-fire spurts, between racking wails and sobs.

Randall was trying his best to calm her, but his knowledge of the language was limited, and he couldn't pick up half of what she was trying to tell him.

Shouldering the deputy aside, Roy took the woman by the arm and spoke to her in a low, firm voice.

Seeing that he was the sheriff calmed her somewhat. She wiped tears from her eyes and began to explain to him that her son, Jorge, had been missing for more than an hour now. Or at least she believed it had been that long. He was seven years old. He'd been wearing blue jeans and boots and a yellow tank top. Nothing more.

“When did you realize your son was missing?” he asked her.

She pointed frantically toward the orchard behind the back of the small house. “I came out to call him in to lunch. He'd been playing under the apple trees. But he was gone. I searched everywhere for him. Even in the house.”

“Was your son angry with you about something? Has he ever threatened to run away from home?”

She shook her head, then suddenly paused. “He'd been crying this morning because he wanted to see his daddy. Tomorrow is the Fourth of July, and my husband always shoots firecrackers for Jorge.”

“Where is your husband?”

“In Alto. We're separated now.”

“You think your son might be trying to get to his father?”

She shrugged, then sniffed as a fresh spate of tears rolled from her eyes. “I don't know, but he has often threatened to walk there. I told him it is more than thirty miles to Alto from here. But he doesn't understand miles. He only wants to be with his daddy.”

Roy patted the woman's shoulder. “Don't worry, Ms. Sanchez, we'll find Jorge for you. Do you have a dog? Would it have followed your son?”

She nodded vigorously and described the dog. Roy left her and motioned for Randall. “Call Mike and have him bring the hounds. The boy is on foot around here somewhere. Apparently he's got it into his head to walk to Alto to find his father.”

“Poor little tyke,” Randall said sadly. “When parents decide to live apart, they don't stop to think how they make their children suffer.”

As Randall walked away, Roy thought about the harsh reality of his deputy's words. Was he hurting Charlie the same way little Jorge's father was hurting his son? Dear God, he didn't want to think so!

You're not the victim here. Charlie is. And until you can see that, I don't want you around him!

Justine's words struck him like a bolt of lightning. And for the first time in the two weeks since he'd discovered Charlie was his son, Roy could see past his own anger and
pain. He could see what he really wanted, for his son, for himself, and for Justine.

“Justine, you know you're going to have to see the man again,” Kitty said as she took a long sip of iced tea.

Justine pushed at the food on her plate. Kitty and Rose had gone to great pains to make homemade enchiladas just for her. She appreciated their thoughtfulness in trying to cheer her up, but she couldn't help remembering the last time she'd eaten the Mexican dish. It had been with Roy, the night she told him she still loved him. He hadn't wanted to hear her feelings for him then any more than he wanted to hear that Charlie was his son, she thought sadly.

“I'm not going to see Roy for any reason.” Since Charlie had already eaten and gone outside to the courtyard to play, she didn't bother to hide the bitterness in her voice.

Several days ago, she'd told her son that Roy was his daddy. The child had been ecstatic over the news. And even though Roy hadn't come to see him, Charlie was still devotedly loyal to the man, certain that he would show up sooner or later.

“But what about the twins' mother?” Rose asked. “We've got to find out about her. And Roy is the only person who can do that for us.”

Justine put down her fork and reached for her tea glass. “Don't worry. Roy is a sheriff, first and foremost. If he finds out anything about Belinda Waller, he'll let us know.”

“I'm not so sure about that,” Chloe said from across the table. “He may keep the information to himself, just to spite Justine for keeping the facts about Charlie from him.”

“Chloe!” Kitty scolded. “You know the circumstances about Charlie's birth, and why your sister did what she did. It's not your place to blame her!”

Shaking her head, Chloe shot Justine an apologetic look. “I'm not blaming Justine for anything. I'm simply saying
that since Roy hasn't shown his face around here in the past two weeks, it's pretty obvious he's damn angry at Justine.”

“I'm not exactly happy with him, either,” Justine muttered.

Rose quietly placed her napkin on her dirty plate. “This is ridiculous,” she said to the other three women. “None of this is going to help matters one iota. When Justine discovered she was pregnant and she thought Marla was, too, she did what she thought was best and took herself out of the picture. And Roy, not knowing about Justine or Marla's deception, did what he thought was best. Neither one of them can be blamed. It was all just a bad set of circumstances.”

“Well, I don't know about you three,” Chloe shot back, “but I'd like to hunt Marla down and wring her scrawny little neck. Wouldn't you, Justine?”

“I don't have any desire to hunt down Marla and exact revenge on her. She got her punishment when Roy divorced her,” Justine told her sister.

“You're bigger-hearted than I am, sis,” Chloe replied.

Kitty suddenly dabbed at her eyes. “Well, putting Roy and Justine aside, I'm still brokenhearted over what your daddy did to my sister Lola. He's the one I'd like to choke. I just wish he was still alive so I could do it!”

Coming to terms with the idea of Tomas Murdock having an affair while their mother had been an invalid had been hard for the entire family to accept. The only good thing any of them could find in the whole ugly mess was the fact that the twins were their blood relatives. Everyone, including Kitty, was thrilled about that.

“Daddy was a man, Aunt Kitty.” Justine spoke with weary certainty. “And I've never seen any man who didn't put his own selfish needs before anyone else.”

Rising to her feet, Justine began to unbuckle Adam and
Anna from their high chairs. “I'm going to take the babies for a walk in their stroller.”

A few minutes later, in the extra bedroom the women had turned into a nursery, Justine changed the twins' diapers, then smoothed sunscreen over their exposed skin.

She'd just finished slathering Adam's arms when Rose entered the room.

“Need some help?” she asked Justine.

“Thanks, but I think I have them just about ready to go outside.”

Rose watched Justine gently place their half brother in a nearby playpen. “I believe you're as crazy about these two babies as Chloe and I are,” she said.

“Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?”

Rose shrugged. “Well, it's different with you. You have Charlie. Chloe and I will probably…never have children of our own.”

“I wouldn't say that, Rose. Chloe can always adopt, and in your case, you're still a healthy young woman. You might eventually meet a man and have a child of your own.”

A forlorn shadow passed over Rose's face. “Chloe has her sights set on keeping the twins. As for me, having some man's baby…well, that just isn't going to happen.”

Justine didn't know what else to say to her sister. Rose believed the worst of herself and every man who got within speaking distance of her. She didn't know what it was going to take to bring her older sister out of her hiding place.

Walking over to the baby crib sitting in one corner of the room, Rose trailed a loving finger over the wooden railings. “I really think you ought to go to Roy, Justine. He's Charlie's father, and whether you want to admit it or not, you need him.”

Rose's suggestion took Justine by surprise, and she walked over to her sister. “Rose, you of all people know how it feels to be rejected by a man. I can't imagine you
wanting me to go over there and give him the chance to tear me up again.”

Rose gave Justine's shoulder a squeeze. “You aren't happy like you are. And I doubt very much that Roy is, either.”

No, Justine had to admit, she was miserable. Her tears were always just under the surface, ready to spill over at the slightest thought of Roy. But what would happen if she took a chance and went to him? Would he be glad to see her? Or would he order her to never set a foot on his place again?

With a heavy sigh, Justine closed her eyes. “I don't know what to do anymore, Rose. It doesn't appear that Roy wants me in his life—and maybe that's for the best My home is here, and I wouldn't want to leave you with the burden of taking care of this ranch by yourself.”

A moment passed in silence before Justine opened her eyes to see Rose shaking her head.

“Justine,” she said with tender patience, “if you're worried that marrying Roy would be deserting me, then you have your priorities messed up. You belong with Roy. You and he and Charlie are a family.”

Justine desperately wanted the three of them to be a family. But was there any chance of that happening now? She was afraid to let herself hope that it could.

“You know, Rose, before Roy found out about Charlie being his son, we'd talked about getting married. And I'd planned on telling you that although I was going to live with Roy, I would still help you financially with the ranch.” She looked down at the floor as tears threatened to fill her eyes. “Marrying Roy didn't happen, but at least you know I'll always consider the Bar M as my home, too. No matter what happens in the future.”

Rose pressed her palm against Justine's cheek. “I was never worried about that,” she said gently.

Justine lifted her head and gave her sister a small but
grateful smile. “Well, I worry about you, Rose. This ranch is too big and has too many cattle for you to care for it all by yourself. You need help.”

“I do need help,” Rose agreed. “But I don't know where or how I might get it.”

“Isn't there a friend or neighbor you might ask to at least help you with some of the bigger jobs? Like the branding and vaccinating?”

Frowning, Rose shook her head. “Most of my friends are schoolteachers. They don't know anything about caring for cattle. And as for a neighbor, well, the closest one we have is Harlan Hamilton, and I certainly wouldn't ask that man to help me do anything,” she said with unusual fervor. “There's something about him that…bothers me.”

Her brows piqued with sudden curiosity, Justine started to ask Rose just exactly what she had against their neighbor, Harlan Hamilton, but the twins chose that moment to fuss loudly, forcing the two women to fetch them from the playpen.

“I'll get their stroller from the porch,” Justine told Rose, “and when I get back from my walk, we'll finish talking about this.”

Later, as the evening sun sank below the mountains in the west, Justine pushed the twins down the dirt road toward the river. Charlie happily skipped in a circle around his mother and his new little aunt and uncle.

“Mommy, when will Adam and Anna be able to walk?”

She looked down at the babies, who were always fascinated to be outdoors. The night Roy told her he'd discovered the facts of their birth, she hadn't thought to ask him about the names listed on the birth certificate. Two days later, copies of the birth certificates had arrived in the mail. No letter or note had accompanied the document, but the return address—Lincoln County Sheriff's Department— had told Justine and the rest of the family that Roy had obviously sent it.

Belinda Waller had named Tomas Murdock's babies Tanya and Timothy. But Justine and her sisters had decided they knew the babies as Adam and Anna, and they preferred to keep calling the children by the names they had chosen. If Chloe did get the chance to adopt them, as she wanted to, their names would be legally changed to stay that way.

“Oh, it won't be too much longer,” she answered Charlie. “Pretty soon they'll be able to stand up all by themselves. And then they'll take a step or two.”

“Then will they be able to walk to the barn with me?”

Justine gave her son a wan smile. “No. They'll be too tottery for that. Next year they'll be able to walk to the barn with you. And then you can show them Thundercloud and all of Aunt Chloe's racehorses.”

Charlie thought about that for a moment. “But we might not be here next year, Mommy.”

She shot her son a puzzled look. “Why wouldn't we be here? The Bar M is our home, Charlie.”

“I know,” he said, then continued his skipping just in front of the baby carriage. “But we might be living at Sheriff Roy's house next year.”

Justine was so shocked, she brought the baby stroller to a sudden halt. “What makes you say that, son?” she asked carefully.

Charlie tilted his head, first one way and then the other, as though he considered his mother's question very ignorant. “Because Sheriff Roy is my daddy. And little boys like me are supposed to live with their daddies.”

With a weary sigh, Justine passed a hand over her forehead. She'd made a vow to herself to stay away from Roy. He'd ordered her out of his house and out of his life. But now she knew she was going to have to see him. Their son's happiness depended on them coming to some sort of peace. Hopefully, for Charlie's sake, she could make Roy see that.

Squatting down on her heels, she motioned for Charlie to come to her. “Honey, I know you love Sheriff Roy, and that's good. Little boys are supposed to love their daddies. But he's lived alone for a long time. He might not want us to move into his house.”

Smiling with pure confidence, Charlie shook his head. “You don't understand, Mommy. Sheriff Roy loves us. You and me.” He touched his finger to his own chest and then to his mother's. “He wants us to live with him. He's just been too busy to come tell us. But he will. I know it!”