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Who knew why Madelyn did anything? he thought wearily. Why had she paid off the mortgage with her trust fund when she knew that was the one thing, given his past, that he would be unable to bear?
He’d never in his life been angrier, not even when he had sat in a courtroom and heard a judge hand over half his ranch to April. He hadn’t expected anything better from April, who had given him ample demonstration of just how vindictive and callous she could be. But when Maddie had blindsided him like that, she had really hit him hard and low, and he was still reeling. Every time he tried to think about it, the pain and anger were so great that they crowded out everything else.
Well, she was gone, so he’d have plenty of time to think about it now. But she would have a hell of a time getting back in to get her things while he was gone, because the first chance he got he was going to change the locks on the house.
For now, however, he was going to do something he hadn’t done even when April had done such a good job of wrecking his life. He was going to get the bottle of whiskey that had been in the cupboard for so many years and get dead drunk. Maybe then he would be able to sleep without Maddie beside him.
He felt like hell the next day, with a pounding head and a heaving stomach, but he dragged himself up and took care of the animals; it wasn’t their fault he was a damn fool. By the time his headache began to fade and he began to feel halfway human again, it was too late to go to the general store to buy new locks.
The next day the cows began dropping their calves. It was the same every time: when the first one went into labor and drifted away to find a quiet place to calve, the others one by one followed suit. And they could pick some of the damnedest places to have their calves. It was an almost impossible task for one man to track down the cows in their hiding places, make certain the little newborns were all right, help the cows who were in difficulty and take care of the calves who were born dead or sickly. Instinct always went wrong with at least one cow, and she would refuse to have anything to do with her new baby, meaning Reese had to either get another cow to adopt it or take it to the barn for hand-feeding.
It was three days before he had a minute to rest, and when he did he dropped down on the couch in an exhausted stupor and slept for sixteen hours.
It was almost a week after Madelyn had left before he finally got time to drive to Crook. The pain and anger had become an empty, numb feeling in his chest.
The first thing he saw as he passed Floris’s café was the white Ford station wagon parked out front.
His heart lurched wildly, and the bottom dropped out of his stomach. She was back, probably on her way to get the rest of her things. He parked next door in front of the general store and stared at the car, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel. The familiar anger exploded into the numb vacuum, and something became immediately, blindingly clear to him.
He wasn’t going to let her go. If he had to fight her in every court in the country, he was going to keep his ranch intact and she was going to stay his wife. He’d been glad to see the last of April, but there was no way he was going to let Maddie just walk out. She was carrying his baby, a baby that was going to grow up in his house if he had to tie Maddie to the bed every day when he left.
He got out of the truck and strode toward the café, his boot heels thudding on the wooden sidewalk, his face set.
He pushed open the door and walked inside, standing in the middle of the room as he surveyed the booths and tables. There was no long-legged blonde with a lazy smile at any of them, though two lean and bandy-legged cowboys straddled stools at the counter.
Then the kitchen door opened and his long-legged blonde came through it, wrapped in an apron and carrying two plates covered with enormous hamburgers and mounds of steaming French fries. She flicked a glance at him and neither changed expression or missed a beat as she set the plates in front of the cowboys. “Here you go. Let me know if you want any pie. Floris baked an apple cobbler this morning that’ll make you cry, it tastes so good.”
Then she looked at him with those blank, cool eyes and said, “What can I get for you?”
The cowboys looked around, and one coughed when he saw who Madelyn was talking to; Reese pretty well knew everybody in a hundred-mile range, and they knew him, too, by sight if not personally. Everyone also knew Madelyn; a woman with her looks and style didn’t go unnoticed, so it was damn certain those two cowboys realized it was her husband standing behind them looking like a thunderstorm about to spit lightning and hail all over them.
In a calm, deadly voice Reese said, “Bring me a cup of coffee,” and went over to fold his long length into one of the booths.
She brought it immediately, sliding the coffee and a glass of water in front of him. Then she gave him an impersonal smile that didn’t reach her eyes and said, “Anything else?” She was already turning to go as she said it.
He snapped his hand out, catching her wrist and pulling her to a halt. He felt the slenderness of her bones under his fingers and was suddenly, shockingly aware of how physically overmatched she was with him, yet she had never backed away from him. Even in bed, when he had held her slim hips in his hands and thrust heavily into her, she had wrapped those legs around him and taken everything he could give her. Maddie wasn’t the type to run, unless leaving was something she had planned from the beginning. But if that were so, why was she here? Why hadn’t she gone back to New York, out of his reach?
“Sit down,” he said in a low, dangerous voice.
“I have work to do.”
“I said to sit down.” Using his grip on her wrist, he pulled her down into the booth. She was still watching him with those cool, distant eyes.
“What are you doing here?” he snapped, ignoring the looks the two cowboys were giving him.
“I work here.”
“That’s what I meant. What the hell are you doing working here?”
“Supporting myself. What did you expect me to do?”
“I expected you to keep your little butt on the ranch like I told you to.”
“Why should I stay where I’m not wanted? By the way, if you can figure out a way to get the car home, feel free to take it. I don’t need it.”
With an effort he controlled the anger and impatience building in him. It might be just what she wanted, for him to lose his temper in a public place.
“Where are you staying?” he asked in a voice that showed the strain he was under.
