Marin Thomas - Her Secret Cowboy

“Would it have mattered if you knew you’d fathered Ryan?”

Will gaped.

“You always said you never wanted to be a father.”

Will cringed at Buck’s statement. His brother had hit a nerve and Will tried to defend himself. “What eighteen-year-old is ready to become a father? I didn’t have a steady job. I’d barely managed to graduate from high school.” And their mother had died earlier that year. The family had been in turmoil and he’d been in no shape to raise a child. “Go away.”

“Let me make it up to you.” Buck’s pleading tone grated on Will’s nerves. “I’ll talk to Marsha and—”

“No.” Will sliced the air with his hand. “You’ve done enough damage.”

“Then tell me how to make it right.”

“Leave.”

“What?”

“Get out of town,” Will said.

“For how long?” The whispered question hung in the air.

“Until I figure things out with Marsha and Ryan.” Will didn’t need his brother interfering when he was searching for a way to fit into his son’s life. If Buck hung around, Marsha might run to him when she had a disagreement with Will over Ryan.

Buck opened his mouth but no words came out. It must have been a trick of the light that made his brother’s eyes look watery.

The crushing pain in Will’s chest pushed the air from his lungs. Damn it, he wasn’t the bad guy. Buck had betrayed him.

So why did he feel as if he’d just kicked his brother in the balls?

* * *

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?” Will asked when he spotted Johnny walking along the path to the fishing hole.

Shell-shocked after meeting his son yesterday and then brawling with Buck, Will had taken his pole and escaped to the one place he could find peace and quiet on the farm. Or so he’d thought.

“I wanted to find out how things went with Ryan,” Johnny said.

“I don’t want to talk about Ryan.”

“Okay. Let’s talk about Buck. I heard you told him to take off.”

“What if I did?”

“Troy’s pretty pissed at you.”

“Troy can find another mechanic to fix his cars.” Will expected his brother to do an about-face, but Johnny stayed put—he was as stubborn as Will.

“You’d better learn how to deal with your situation, because I won’t let you tear this family apart.”

“No one’s tearing anything apart. Besides, what does it matter if Buck’s gone for a while? These days we all go our separate ways.”

“You might not care, but Shannon’s due date is two weeks away. I’d hoped to have my entire family here to welcome my son or daughter into the world.”

Well, shit. Will had been caught up in his own situation and had forgotten about Shannon and the baby. “I’ll talk to Buck and apologize.”

“Good luck with that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Buck’s not answering his phone, and I bet he won’t pick up when he sees your number.”

Will set the pole on the ground, then paced in front of the pond. “What do you want me to do, Johnny?” The look of disappointment in his older brother’s eyes cut him to the core.

“Buck told me the reason you sent him away.”

“Hey, I’m not the one who was disloyal to a brother. Buck should have spoken up for me when I couldn’t.” Will winced. His shout had probably scattered the fish to the bottom of the pond.

“Buck isn’t the one to blame, Will. Marsha hid your son from you.”

Will searched for a rock and when he found a decent-size one he kicked it twenty yards. Johnny was right. Why was it easier to let Marsha’s trespass slide and nail Buck’s hide to the wall for his?

Because Buck’s kin. And it hurts a lot more when family betrays you.

Will didn’t want to care what Marsha thought of him, because he’d never measure up in her eyes or Pastor Bugler’s, but what Ryan thought of him mattered. He wanted a chance to earn his son’s respect.

Johnny nodded to the pond. “While you’re fishing maybe you should consider your role in this situation.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The afternoon we caught Dixie and Gavin taking a shower together before they got married.”

“What about that day?”

“We all got into an argument in the hallway and Buck let it slip that Marsha had told him you’d gotten her pregnant.”

“Yeah.”

“You could have asked Buck when he and Marsha had talked.”

“Why would I care when she told him?”

“You didn’t care, Will, because you didn’t want to ask Buck if Marsha had kept the baby.”

“Marsha told me she was getting an abortion and I believed her.”

No, she told you not to worry about the baby, that she’d take care of it.

Will rubbed a hand down his jaw. He’d wanted to believe she’d meant she’d abort the baby but fear that she might not had kept him from seeking the truth.

Johnny quirked an eyebrow. “You having unprotected sex with Marsha set in motion everyone’s destiny— including yours.” Johnny turned away.

“Wait. Tell me what to do. How do I make this right?”

The sympathetic expression on Johnny’s face sent a sharp pain through Will’s chest. “I don’t have any answers. You’ll have to find your own way through this, but don’t forget...”

Will swallowed hard.

“What’s done is done. All you can change now is the future.”

When Johnny disappeared from view, Will sank to the ground and stared into space. His brother was right. The only option was to move forward and find a place for himself in his son’s life. Will waited a half hour for a fish to bite, then packed up his gear. When he reached the barn, he noticed the pile of new lumber by the front porch.

Damn. He’d promised the twins he’d build Bandit a doghouse this weekend. An idea came to mind—he’d ask Ryan to help and hope that the twins’ constant babble would put his son at ease.

* * *

“I’M SO EXCITED,” Hillary Bancroft said when Marsha slipped into the stylist’s chair at the Bee Luv Lee Hair Salon. “I can’t believe you and Ryan are staying in Stagecoach for the whole summer.”

“I’m looking forward to spending more time with my father,” Marsha said. And Will. She wanted to get to know her son’s father and find out what kind of man he’d become.

Hillary draped a black cape over Marsha and fussed with her wavy locks. “How’s your dad feeling?”

“Dad’s slowed down since our last trip home.” There was no need to go into the details of her father’s battle with prostate cancer—Hillary and her twelve-year-old daughter were members of the Mission Community Church.

“What does Ryan think about being stuck in the desert for two and a half months?”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” Marsha glanced across the room where the new owner of the salon, Rosie Davis, was styling Fiona Wilson’s gray hair. Fiona had been Marsha’s English teacher in high school but had since retired. Marsha glanced in the mirror and caught Hillary watching her.

“Rosie’s making a bank run as soon as she finishes Fiona’s hair. We’ll have the place to ourselves for a few minutes.”

Good. Marsha didn’t want Hillary learning Will was Ryan’s father through the Stagecoach grapevine.

“Are we doing highlights today and trimming the ends?”

“Highlights,” Marsha said.

“I’ll mix up your color.”

After Hillary disappeared, Rosie twirled Fiona’s chair and Marsha smiled at the schoolteacher. “Any summer plans, Fiona?”

“Nothing too exciting,” Fiona said. “Now how old is that son of yours?”

“Ryan turned fourteen this past February.”

“It’s not too early to discuss colleges.”

“No worries there.” Marsha laughed. “Ryan has his top four already picked out.”