скачать книгу бесплатно
“Maybe I should have been born a boy,” she said to herself, knowing in her heart that Brant had loved her once just the way she was. No, she couldn’t hold a grudge for something she had forced her father to do. She had asked Brant to allow Logan to stay on, had begged him not to fire Logan.
“It’s all my fault, Daddy,” she had said at the time. “I…I flirted with him. I wanted to be with him. If you send him away, Gayle will go with him. Then they won’t have a place to live. Please, Daddy, don’t do this. I’ll go…I’ll go back to Dallas, and I promise I won’t have anything to do with Logan again.”
She’d always believed she’d done Logan a favor. Now she had to wonder if instead she’d done him a great disservice by fighting his fight for him. But in the end it didn’t really matter. She’d made the best decision, based on her love for Logan at the time.
Now she had the power to destroy everything that was left between them. She wanted to be rid of her past. That was why she’d been determined to sell this place. And now she’d come face-to-face with that past again, but there was so much more to have to deal with, so much responsibility being thrown on her shoulders.
Her first instinct was to run as far away from this place as she could possibly get. If she got involved in Brant’s dreams for this ranch, she’d be up to her eyeballs in something that might quite possibly become an overwhelming burden. Yet if she didn’t at least think about keeping the ranch and continuing her father’s work here, she’d never forgive herself.
Was she up to the task? Could she face down the secrets of her past with Logan, for the sake of her father’s dream and for the sake of these children who’d been entrusted to his care?
Without warning, little Caleb’s cherubic face came to mind. She couldn’t get the picture of the little boy who’d been clinging to Logan out of her head. What would happen to Caleb if she sold the ranch?
How could she make such an important decision when she was so very tired and confused? The big mare snorted, her brown eyes giving away no secrets as she nuzzled Trixie’s hand with her wet nose.
“Guess I need to pray hard,” Trixie said to the animal. “That’s what Granddaddy always tells me to do when I have a problem.”
She let the mare finish the last of the mash, then dusted her wet hand against her pants before she walked on through the stables. When she came to the little tack room, Trixie stopped and closed her eyes against the intensity of her memories, the smell of saddle soap and horse sweat blending together in her mind. It was here in this very room, where Logan had first kissed her. She’d fallen in love that summer—her first love. But it wasn’t meant to be. Now she had Rad and her life with him was all planned out. Everyone said they made a perfect couple.
Trixie closed her eyes. Help me make the right decision, Lord.
When she opened her eyes, Logan was standing in the doorway watching her, his own eyes devoid of any condemnation or judgment. For just a moment, it was as if time had stopped and they were back there, young and carefree and exploring the raging emotions coursing between them. But Trixie had to remind herself that that time was over.
Logan, however, had other considerations on his mind. He walked toward her with a purposeful look on his face, then took her into his arms without a word. Before Trixie could voice a protest, he kissed her, long and hard, stealing the breath right out of her body. Then he stood back and held his hands on her arms, his eyes bright with hope and longing.
“Stay awhile, Tricia Maria,” he said, his breath ragged from the effect of the kiss. “Stay and see for yourself all of the good we’re doing here. You owe me that much at least, before you decide what to do about this place.”
“Is that why you kissed me?” she asked, her heart pumping, her voice raw with pain.
Logan’s mouth came close to hers again. “No, I kissed you because I wanted to, because I couldn’t stop myself. But I’m asking you to stay because I intend to fight you on this. I won’t let you sell this place without at least putting up a good struggle. You said you’d consider everything and take in all the facts before you made a choice.”
“I did say that,” she admitted, thinking he was one smooth operator. “And I can’t make an informed decision without seeing how this place operates.”
He leaned close again, his breath fanning her face. “Then you’ll stay?”
She swallowed back the fear coursing through her system. Somehow she knew her answer would change both of their lives. “Yes, I’ll stay,” she said, her gaze holding his.
“Fair enough.”
Logan let her go then, turning to get away from the overpowering urge to pull her back into his arms. He hoped he’d done the right thing by asking her to remain here for a while. He didn’t really have any other choice. Somehow, he had to make Trixie see that this place could make a difference, not just in the lives of all of those children, but in her own life, also.
He would do that much at least for Brant’s sake.
Even if it meant having to tell Trixie the truth at last.
Chapter Four (#ulink_188d16a2-342a-5137-849d-25d318ff2bf1)
“Mother, I’ve made my decision. I’m only going to stay a few days, so don’t worry.” Trixie tried once again to convince her mother that she wasn’t being impulsive, then listened as Pamela’s shrill words shot through the phone line.
“Well, I am worried, young lady,” Pamela said with an impatient huff. “You have no business hanging around with that…that field hand.”
“Logan is the foreman of this ranch,” Trixie reminded her mother, anger causing her to grind the words out. “He’s very capable of showing me what’s going on here.”
“Oh, he’s capable, all right. Apparently you’ve forgotten just exactly what that man is capable of doing.”
Trixie closed her eyes, willing herself to stay calm. They’d had this argument before. Pamela did not believe Logan Maxwell was good enough to even speak to her daughter, therefore she couldn’t dare acknowledge that he’d done much more, without laying the blame at his feet completely.
“No, Mother, I haven’t forgotten anything about Logan. But I’m asking you to trust me on this. I’m not here to stir up things with Logan again. I’m here to make a decision—an important decision—regarding what to do about this ranch.”
“Sell it!” Pamela shouted. “It’s that simple, Trixie. Harlan has left it up to you, and that’s what needs to be done. No decision necessary.”
“I disagree, Mother,” Trixie replied, her tone firm and controlled in spite of her trembling hand holding the phone. “Since neither the lawyers nor you told me the whole truth about this situation, I’m now forced to investigate things for myself. And that means I have to stay here longer than I’d planned.”
Trixie had already called her office and her assistant was prepared to cover matters there. She also had her client list with her, so she could handle any emergencies that came up, if necessary.
“Everything is under control,” she told her mother.
Except my heart and your temper, Trixie thought.
“And what about your engagement party?”
“I’ll be back in Dallas in plenty of time to tie up the loose ends for the party.”
“You have obligations, Trixie. It’s expected—”
“I know, I know,” Trixie interrupted. “People will talk and think the worst, and you might miss an opportunity to have your picture in the society pages.”
A long sigh. “Tricia Maria, that was low and uncalled for.”
“Mother, I’m sorry. Just let me do what has to be done and I’ll be home at the end of the week.”
“I don’t like this.”
“You’ll get over it.”
“Well, I didn’t get over it the first time.”
Trixie sat silent for a minute, counting to ten until the sting of her mother’s deliberate reminder had passed, then said, “No, Mother, neither of us did. And that’s something you’ll never let me forget, isn’t it?”
Realizing she’d been cruel, Pamela tried to make amends. “Darling, I just want you to be happy. And Rad is such a wonderful man. I just want you home, to try on your gown for the party and to help me get all of this organized. You know I’ve reserved the entire country club, and of course I’ve invited so many people. Why, I’ve hired a firm just to address and mail out the invitations, and then I’ve got the caterers and the florists to deal with. I could really use your help, since this is all for you, anyway.”
Automatically forgiving her mother’s barbs and ignoring the excited pitch of Pamela’s line of conversation, Trixie replied, “You’ll do a great job on the party. You’ve always been one of the best hostesses in Dallas, whether it’s for me or anyone else. And I promise I’ll be there soon.”
The compliment soothed Pamela’s fragile ego enough that she gave in. “Oh, all right. Just shed yourself of that place, once and for all, so you can get on with your life.”
Trixie hung up, wondering if Pamela had a clue as to what her daughter really wanted out of life. For years now, Trixie had let her mother steer the reins of her existence. And Pamela had taken full advantage of Trixie’s disinterest, guiding her to what she believed to be all the right places and all the best people. Trixie had allowed it out of guilt, mostly, and because she herself didn’t have the strength or the ambition to really care.
Now, however, Trixie felt the tides of her future changing. It had taken her father’s death to cause her to see the light. She’d missed out on so much; she could have been here, by his side, helping him to realize his dream. It was such a big, lofty dream, yet with such a simple concept. He wanted to help others; he wanted to be fair and good and kind and nurturing. And Brant Dunaway had been all of those things. Too late, Trixie saw that now.
Now she was ready to take charge, to make her own decisions, to take a chance. She’d lived in fear over the past eight years, allowing her domineering mother to call the shots. Now, after discovering a whole new side to the father she’d lost touch with, she was willing to go on faith.
But what if she made another mistake?
A knock at her bedroom door brought her head up. Too late to worry about that now. She’d agreed to stay. She wouldn’t go back on that promise, no matter how much her doubt nagged at her, right along with her mother, to go back home.
She opened the door to find Logan standing in the upstairs hallway, his hat in his hand, his feet braced apart as he stared down at her. Giving her a quick once-over, he said, “Didn’t you bring any working outfits?”
Looking down at her short-sleeved, flowerembroidered blue cotton shirt and matching walking shorts, Trixie shrugged. “Sorry, I didn’t bring the proper ranch hand attire. Any suggestions?”
Logan squinted, then made a face. “Well, it ain’t what you’re wearing, that’s for sure.”
Trixie frowned. What she was wearing consisted of the best in designer casual wear. “Should I change?”
He snorted, then dragged her out into the hallway with a hand encircling her wrist. “What, into something even more ridiculous than that? No, I kinda like it, even though it’s way too fancy for slopping hogs.”
Trixie pulled back, her eyes going wide. “Slopping hogs? I’m here to observe, Logan. I don’t plan on getting up close and personal with any farm animals.”
He urged her on ahead of him, his cowboy boots clicking on the planked landing. “Oh, and how are you going to get a feel for this operation if you don’t get some hands-on experience?”
Not liking the glee in his tone, Trixie cast a glance at him over her shoulder. If he thought she was going to do physical labor, he was in for a big surprise. “Can’t I just watch and still get a feel?”
“Better to get down-and-dirty,” he said, his grin telling her that he planned to make her time here a real learning experience.
“You’re doing this on purpose,” she chided as they marched down the open, planked stairway. “Is this your way of getting revenge on me?”
“Maybe,” he readily admitted as they reached the long, spacious Western-style den. “Of course, if I wanted to really chap your hide, I could just kiss you again.”
The minute he said it, the teasing light went out of his eyes to be replaced with something deeper and much more intimate. Maybe he was remembering that kiss they’d shared last night in the tack room. It had certainly caused her to remember other kisses and other such teasing conversations.
But since she’d just assured her mother that nothing was stirring between Logan and her, she felt obligated to fight him off. “I’ll take the pigs,” she retorted, half serious, half afraid he’d really kiss her again, just as punishment.
Logan shook his head, his dark eyes flashing. “Now, that sure makes me feel good about my kissing abilities.” Then he turned completely serious again. “Maybe we should make a pact, though—to keep this strictly business.”
Trixie saw the brief flash of need warming his dark eyes. Nodding her head, she said, “Good idea. Just show me the ranch, Logan, and I’ll make a decision by the end of the week. Then I’ll be out of your hair one way or another.”
Wanting confirmation, he asked, “So does that mean if you decide to keep the place, you’ll give me complete control on how to run it?”
“That depends,” she replied. She hadn’t thought that far ahead. If she kept the ranch, she’d have to put in an occasional appearance, to make sure the operation was run according to Brant’s wishes. That could prove to be very awkward, especially if he tried to kiss her every time they were alone.
“On what?” Logan asked, his gaze direct and questioning.
Hoping to keep things light for now, she retorted, “On whether you make me slop pigs or not.”
Logan managed a smile as he watched her move through the den to the kitchen. One week. One week of torment and torture, one week of having her near, and knowing she had to go back to her world and the man she’d pledged to marry. One week to convince her that she couldn’t sell out her heritage. One week to show Tricia Maria Dunaway that she shouldn’t sell out, or sell herself short, either. She could do this; she could gain a lot from this ranch. If she was willing to give a little.
And…he could do this. He could do what he had to do to keep this ranch, and his secrets, intact.
But as he watched her now, standing there in her expensive, baby blue ensemble, sipping coffee like a princess as she looked out over the blossoming dawn, Logan knew being with Trixie again would be one of the hardest things he’d ever had to suffer through.
Trixie looked at him then, her blue eyes a perfect match to her fashionable outfit, her cool attitude a perfect example of his notion of all she represented. He had no way of knowing she was a bundle of nerves and that sweat moistened the crisp cotton of her button-up blouse. He had no way of knowing that she was thinking this would be one of the hardest weeks of her life.
“Does Logan make you all work this hard every day?” Trixie asked Marco a couple of hours later.
They stood inside the hog pen, filling a trough with fresh water for the many sows and what looked like thousands of squealing, pink-nosed piglets. In spite of the chaos of animals and teenagers, the place was neat and tidy. The tightly wired fences stretched in symmetric order across the expanse of the paddock, and the animals looked healthy and well fed, their stalls full of fresh hay and clean, cool water.
Trixie only hoped she hadn’t mixed up too many piglets when they’d moved the babies and cleaned the stalls earlier. How was she supposed to know which pig went with which sow, anyway? “That man put me in here on purpose. Well, we’ll show him, huh, Marco?” That is, if she hadn’t orphaned some poor piglet already.
Marco grinned, his black eyes squinting together as he stared up at his new blond-haired friend. “We call him the pigmeister,” he said, his words meant for her ears only. “Mr. Logan wants us to learn responsibility,” he added, his tone changing to somber as he reconsidered calling his boss/foster parent a derogatory name.
Trixie smiled down at the youngster. He was really sweet, if not somewhat street-wise. As were all of the half dozen children staying here. They ranged in age from sixteen to seven, from what she could tell. Kind of a patchwork family of personalities. And each one had a story to tell. Being a captive audience, she’d listened all morning, her heart opening with each child’s tale.
Abusive parents or no parents at all, truancy charges, and some more severe charges, such as petty theft and robbery, colored each story and quickly, effectively turned her apathy into sympathy. These children needed some firm guidance in their young lives. She was proud of her father, and Logan, for providing it.
Now, she grinned back at Marco. “Mr. Logan seems like a tough taskmaster to me, but I guess it builds character, huh?”
“That’s what he tells us when we whine,” Marco said, giggling as several thirsty sows bumped each other to get to the fresh, cool water. “Only, Miss Trixie, we don’t have to work all day long. As long as we do our assigned chores and attend the Bible study classes, we get free time each day.”
“Great,” Trixie replied, the sweat beading on her forehead making her wish she had some free time right about now. She was wilted and sweaty, not socialite material at all. “And what do you and your friends do for fun?”
“We head down to the swimming hole,” Marco said before running away to take care of more important pig business.
“That sounds like heaven,” Trixie said to a pinkeyed sow who wanted first dibs on the water supply. Trixie obligingly moved out of the six-hundred pound animal’s path, her eyes scanning the pen for Logan. He’d pushed her through the gates, told her to follow Marco’s instructions, then had conveniently left.
As she stood there, wondering what the sharply dressed, sharp-minded women of the Metroplex Marketing Professionals would think of her now, she had to laugh. Right this very minute she didn’t care what anyone thought. She was dirty and smelly and sweaty, and her white leather sandals would never be the same, but it felt kind of good to be back out in the thick of things—as long as she watched where she stepped.
Shaking her head, she grinned down at the thirsty sows. “Hold on, ladies, there’s plenty of water for everyone.”
“You’re having way too much fun,” Logan said from behind her, echoing her thoughts precisely.
Her grin turned into a grimace as the wind shifted. Giving him a level, daring look, she said, “Did you expect me to burst into tears and beg you to come in here and rescue me?”
“That would have been the highlight of my day,” he said as he stepped through the gate and. stalked toward her, a look of grudging admiration on his face. He should have known she’d rather die than give in to him. Trixie had always enjoyed a good challenge. Well, he wasn’t quite finished with her just yet. “Looks like you’ve done a passable job here. Ready to move on to worming sheep?”
Trixie turned off the water hose, then stared across the trough at him. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Nope. Has to be done, and as always, we could use an extra hand. You get your choice of which end you want to hold, though.”
Her groan echoed out over the squeals and grunts of the hogs and pigs. “Logan, need I remind you that I’m still officially your boss? I think I’d just like a shower, then a tour of the ranch and a thorough report on the operation. And I think you’ve had enough fun at my expense for one day.”
He watched her, his gaze rich with an unreadable emotion before he became glib again. “Testy, aren’t you? What’s the matter, Tricia Maria, break a nail or something?”
Swaying against the bumps of the sows, Trixie glared over at him. “Okay, I’ve had enough. I did what you asked—I hung out in the pig pen. And I don’t mind lending a hand, but I won’t stand around and take orders from you just so you can enjoy watching me make a fool of myself.”
Logan quit smiling then, his expression hardening. “Why not? You certainly made me look like a fool all those years ago.”
“Oh, is that what this is all about?” she asked, her hands on her hips as she leaned toward him. “You weren’t the only one hurt by our brief encounter, Logan. I certainly paid a high price for my one indiscretion.”
He inched closer, nudged by grunting snouts. “Oh, did you, now? Funny, I don’t see it that way. You seemed to have bounced back pretty quickly, from what I’ve heard.”
