One Mother Wanted

Allie pulled over to the side of the road and parked. She’d always thought of herself as a good person. Condemning others for callous and uncaring behavior, she’d set herself up as a paragon of goodness and mercy. Prided herself on her compassion.

Closing her eyes, she leaned back against the headrest. She was a fraud, her behavior a total sham, her heart as black as three of the filly’s legs.

She wanted to blame Zane Peters for pulling her down. “The slime pits,” he’d said. “Dark and dirty and rank.” He’d put himself there.

He couldn’t put her there. Only she could.

Starting the engine, Allie retraced her route.

The paint filly had joined a small herd in a nearby pasture. Zane stood by the corral watching the horses. His daughter sat on the top rail, leaning back against her father’s chest. Allie forced her legs to carry her across the yard.

Zane didn’t turn as Allie leaned on the corral beside him.

The child peeked around her father, then curled tighter into Zane. Her thumb sought her mouth.

“I apologize for what I said.” For all Zane’s response, Allie could have spoken a foreign language. “And I’m sorry I said it in front of your daughter.”

Moments passed before Zane spoke. “I haven’t had a drop of any kind of alcohol since that night.”

“That’s good.” Allie drew on a rail with her finger. She knew he meant the night he’d impregnated Kim Taylor.

The sun took its warmth below the mountain peaks. Zane straightened, and lifting his daughter from the railing, settled her on his shoulders. “Thanks for coming back. I know how difficult it was for you to apologize, and I appreciate it.” He turned toward the house.

Allie rubbed her palms along the seams of her jeans. He wasn’t making this easy for her. “You don’t need to put the filly in the round pen tomorrow. I’ll bring her in.”

Zane didn’t slow his pace. “All right.”

“All right? That’s all you have to say?” she shouted after him.

He stopped. “What did you expect me to say?” he asked without turning.

“You could act a little surprised that I’m coming.”

“I’m not surprised. I knew you’d come tomorrow.”

She couldn’t let it go. “I suppose you knew I’d come back tonight, too.”

At that he turned. “Alberta, sometimes I think I know you better than I know myself.”

“You don’t know me at all. If you did, you’d know I hate to be called Alberta.”

“I know you hate it.” Sliding one hand up and down his daughter’s denim-clad leg, Zane gave Allie a slow smile. “And, yes, Alberta, I knew you’d be back.”

He took his daughter into the house leaving Allie standing there. She hated him. Hated his teasing, his smile, his little girl who wasn’t hers. Hated his wide shoulders and lean hips. Hated that a mere flexing of facial muscles could jolt a person’s stomach and speed up her heart.

Once that slow smile would have sent Allie rushing into Zane’s open arms. Older and wiser, she knew the difference between love and shallow physical attraction. Besides, Zane no longer had open arms. His daughter filled his arms.

Her face had told Zane how close he’d come to ruining everything. His only excuse was giddy, overwhelming relief. He’d gambled, remembering how painfully honest with herself Allie had always been. He’d told himself she’d come back. Reminded himself she’d never walk away from an animal in need. He hadn’t realized how scared he’d been until she’d returned.

Then he’d wanted to shout with joy and grab her in his arms.

The years, his marriage, Hannah—they changed nothing. He wanted Allie Lassiter. She’d stood there in ragged, dirty clothes—worn deliberately, he’d bet—her nose pointed snootily skyward, her eyes dark with annoyance, and Zane had wanted to send Hannah to the house and throw Allie down in the dirt and make mad, passionate love to her.

He had to be content with Allie’s agreeing to come to the ranch and help the filly. The animal had enough problems to keep Allie coming for a long time.

But was it long enough for Zane to break through the fences she’d erected around herself? Fences for which he’d supplied the barbed wire and poles.

The reason he’d betrayed Allie came padding on bare feet down the stairs. “Daddy?”

No, he hadn’t betrayed Allie because of Hannah. That he had a daughter was the result of his behavior, not the cause. He smiled at her. “Ready for a story before bed?”

Hannah crossed the room and eyed him solemnly. “How come Allie talked mean to us?”

“Allie didn’t talk... well, I suppose it sounded that way to you.” He scooped his daughter up on his lap. “Sometimes when people get hurt, they sound angry.” Before Hannah could ask where Allie hurt, Zane quickly steered the conversation away from Allie. “Remember when you stubbed your big toe on the footstool the other night?”

Hannah nodded. “It hurt really, really bad and I cried.”

“You were grouchier than a hungry bear. You growled and growled, like this.” Zane made growling sounds and pretended to bite her neck.

Hannah squirmed around until she faced him. “No, no! I growled like this.” She roared at the top of her lungs.

Zane laughed and hugged her tightly, breathing in the smell of baby shampoo. Holding her close, he stood. “C’mon, little bear, time for your prayers and a story, then beddy-bye.”

On the side of her bed, Hannah curled in his lap, squeezed her eyelids tightly shut and pressed her palms together. “Hi, Mommy. Daddy and I played bear.”

Zane didn’t know how Hannah’s nightly prayers came to mean chatting with her mother, who was no one’s idea of an angel or a saint. His book on how-to-parent hadn’t covered how one explained to a toddler the death of the mother she’d barely known. Kim hadn’t been much of a mother, but he hoped her daughter never learned that.

There was so much he hoped Hannah would never learn about. War and hate and pain and betrayal. Zane smoothed a hand over his daughter’s soft, rumpled curls, knowing he couldn’t protect her forever. Horses broke legs, dogs bit, kids at school said cruel things, animals and people you cared about died.

Heading the long list of bad things in the world were people who betrayed you. How did a parent protect a daughter from a man like him?

Mary Lassiter hadn’t been able to protect Allie.

Copper greeted Worth with a nicker as he walked up to the horse trailer. Her brother scratched the crest of the elderly mare’s mane and smiled at Allie. “Need any help?”

“If that’s your subtle way of asking why I’m loading Copper and where I’m going with the horse trailer, I told Mom.”

“Zane called this morning and told me you’re going to help him with a horse.”

Finished loading the mare, Allie gave Copper a pat on the rump and closed the back of the trailer. “I’m not helping him anything. I’m helping the filly.” She stepped around the greyhound at her heels.

“Do you want to talk about it? I never knew what you and Zane fought about that night he went to the bar.”

“What we always fought about. I felt he sometimes acted too much like Beau, irresponsible, not ready to settle down.” Allie gave a bitter laugh. “I didn’t know how close to the truth I was.” She hadn’t known then, or when Zane had come back two days later, an apologetic smile on his lips, a bunch of hothouse flowers in one hand, and her ring in the other. She’d accepted all three because she’d loved him and because she’d believed him when he promised to grow up.

Allie rubbed her bare finger. He’d neglected mentioning that he’d gone straight from their argument to a local bad where, to celebrate his liberation and to prove what a big boy he was, he’d gotten roaring drunk. He’d also neglected to mention the sympathetic bartender who’d taken him home to her bed.

“That was five years ago,” Worth said. “Zane wasn’t much more than a kid. A man can do a lot of growing up in five years. You have to admit, he took responsibility for his actions, and didn’t look for the easy way out. Zane could have supported the child without marrying Kim.”

Allie carefully placed her gear in the trailer’s storage area. “Is that what you would have done?”

“No. I’d have married her. Nothing against Mom and Grandpa and their raising of us, but I resented Beau for being a father in name only. I’d never allow a kid of mine to grow up without me there.”

She shrugged. “It’s all water under the bridge. There’s no going back.”

Worth shook his head in amusement. “You sound like Yancy. Grandpa always said the situation didn’t exist that couldn’t be covered by a well-worn cliché.”

“He was right.” She reached for the door handle.

Worth beat her to it and opened the door. “Now that Zane’s a widower, you two could try again.” He moved aside as Moonie slid around him and leaped into the SUV.

“Not interested,” Allie said flatly, climbing behind the steering wheel.

Without comment Worth stepped back and waved her on her way.

Driving down the highway, Allie thought darkly about Worth’s tendency to view his younger sisters as about ten years old. “He’d better not be planning on playing matchmaker,” she said to the greyhound looking out of the passenger window. Moonie turned and lay down, his head resting on Allie’s thigh. She stroked his head. “Who needs a man when she has a dog?” A gentle snore met her rhetorical question.

Males. You couldn’t count on them for anything. Except to let you down. In all fairness, she had to exempt her grandfather and her brother from the category of worthless males. Beau always said Worth fit his name. A person could count on Worth.

Turning off the highway, Allie wished her brother hadn’t brought up the past. No one could resurrect what had been—Allie corrected herself—what she’d thought had been between her and Zane. People didn’t mourn a one-sided love affair. Especially if you’d been the stupid one in love.

Worth talked about the difficulty of Zane’s choice. At least Zane made his choice. Allie had been given no choice.

She cringed to think how gullible she’d been. How she’d seen Zane’s exemplary behavior in the weeks before their upcoming wedding as proof he’d matured. Now she knew he’d been feeling guilty because he’d slept with Kimberly Taylor.

Five years later Allie still didn’t know if she would have accepted back the ring if she’d known he’d slept with another woman. She told herself she wouldn’t have, but she’d been young. And in love. The question would never be answered.

An aspen tree, its leaves gleaming with gold, caught her eye. The aspens had been green then, the green of spring and promise. She’d been sitting on the porch waiting for Zane, her mind jumbled with last-minute wedding plans. The memory of his face, pale with eyes almost black as he told her, superimposed itself on the ribbon of highway ahead of her.

“I slept with another woman. Kimberly Taylor. She’s pregnant, Allie, so I’m going to marry her.”

Her ears heard the words, but her mind refused to take in their meaning. “What do you mean? How? When? What are you talking about?”

Zane held his arms down stiffly in front of him, his hands gripping the wide brim of his hat. “I got drunk and slept with her the night you broke our engagement. She’s pregnant.”

“I don’t believe you.” She hadn’t wanted to believe.

“I wish I were lying. I’m more sorry than I can say, Allie. I know this is a rotten thing to do to you.”

Her throat had swollen, making it painful to swallow. “You’re going to marry someone else?”

“I’ve thought about it and thought about it, but it’s the right thing, the only thing, I can do. I was wrong to sleep with Kim, but I can’t erase what I did. And now I have to do the honorable thing and marry her.”

“What about me?” she’d cried.

He wouldn’t look at her. Just stood there, curling his hat brim tighter and tighter. Finally he said, “You’ll find someone else. A better man. A man who deserves you.” He’d turned and walked toward his pickup.

She’d screamed at him then. Called him names, cursed him, heaped upon him every bit of verbal abuse that came to mind. Zane had stood by his truck, his hand on the door handle, his head bowed. Not until she’d run out of words had he picked up the ring she’d thrown in the dirt at his feet, climbed wearily into his truck and driven slowly away.

He’d married Kimberly Taylor the next day.

Zane Peters married or Zane Peters a widower, it was all the same to Allie. The filly drew her to his ranch. Not Zane.

And definitely not his daughter with her mother’s hair. Allie should have guessed the girl’s identity the minute she saw her. Despite her red hair, the child looked like Zane.

The gossip about Kim Taylor had quickly reached Allie. People seemed to think a jilted bride would be happy to know the man who’d jilted her was himself being cheated on. She hadn’t been happy. The gossip only proved how little wrecking Allie’s life meant to either Zane or Kim.

The child was swinging on a rope swing tied to a large cottonwood tree near the house when Allie drove up. At the sight of Allie’s car and trailer, the little girl dragged her feet in the dirt, slowing down the swing.

Allie intended to concentrate on the filly, not on some other woman’s kid. Ignoring the child, Allie opened the trailer and backed Copper down the short ramp.

“Hi.”

“Hello,” Allie answered shortly. So much for hoping the kid would stay out of her way.

“Daddy said I can’t bother you.”

“He’s right.”

“What’s her name?”

Allie glanced over to see the girl petting the greyhound. “Moonie. You shouldn’t pet strange dogs. You could get bitten.”

“She likes me.”

“He. He’s a male dog.” Males had no discrimination.

“He’s funny-looking. He’s skinny.”

Telling Moonie to stay by the trailer, Allie swung up on Copper and walked the mare toward the pasture.

On short, stubby legs, the little girl trotted beside the large mare. “What’s your horse’s name? My new horse is Honey. Daddy calls me honey.”

Allie carefully closed and locked the gate into the pasture. Zane’s daughter said the endearment in exact mimicry of the way her father used to say it to Allie.

The child climbed up the metal pasture gate and clung to the top. “He calls me honey ’cuz he really loves me. I really love Honey.”

Allie wheeled Copper around and gave the small girl a stern look. “Your father told you not to bother me. Go back to your swing and stay there.” Allie refused to call the paint Honey.

The filly stood in the middle of a group of horses. As Allie guided Copper slowly toward the small herd, a brown mare nickered a greeting to Copper, and Allie’s mare nickered back. Used to horses with riders, the horses curiously watched Allie’s approach. Their calm behavior reassured the filly. Slowly Allie guided the small herd toward the open gate of the round pen. The horses obligingly ambled inside.

One by one, Allie extracted the horses from the pen until only the paint remained. Paying no attention to the filly, Allie shut the gate, then guided Copper around the pen, walking at first, then trotting. All the while, Allie talked in low, calm voice. Eventually the filly, curious or wanting o herd up with Copper, trotted in their wake. Allie gradually slowed her mare until the filly moved almost abreast of hem. Now she patted and rubbed Copper, her hand coming closer by degrees to the paint but never touching the filly. At first the filly shied away each time Allie’s hand moved, put imperceptibly she grew accustomed to the movement.

Round and round. Finally Allie guided Copper over to he gate. When she opened the gate, the filly humped her back at the noise, but quickly spotted the opening and dashed into the pasture. After a few yards, she slowed and turned to look at Allie. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Allie asked.

“You have more patience than any woman I know, and you hardly ever lose your temper. I’ll bet you made a good school teacher.”

Focused on the filly, Allie had missed Zane’s approach. She rode Copper through the pasture gate Zane held open md guided the mare toward the horse trailer. “Hardly ever,” he’d said.

She knew he referred to the night she’d totally lost conrol, screaming and yelling like a banshee. “I never claimed to be a saint,” she said. “If you’d wanted a submissive hamby-pamby, you shouldn’t have gotten engaged to me in he first place.”

Zane raised an eyebrow. “Where’d that come from? I was complimenting you.”

He knew very well what she was talking about. Allie pushed him aside when he would have removed Copper’s saddle. “I take care of my own horse, and I don’t want your compliments. I don’t want you checking up on me. If you ion’t trust me with the filly, train her yourself.”

“I’m not checking up. I wanted to talk to you.”

“We have nothing to talk about.”

He leaned against the side of the trailer. “We haven’t discussed what it’s going to cost me for you to work with the filly.”

Everything, she wanted to scream. He owed her for more than a few minutes a day training a horse. He could never repay her for what he owed her. “I’m not training the filly for you.”

Zane gave her a crooked smile. “I don’t think Hannah’s allowance will cover horse-training.”

She turned away, fussing with Copper. It wasn’t fair that a smile from a low-down skunk could unsettle her stomach and interfere with her breathing. Against the mare’s flank, she muttered, “I’m here for the filly’s sake. No other reason.”

He didn’t reply. Crossed at the ankles, his worn boots remained in her field of vision. Hardworking, serviceable boots. If they’d ever seen a lick of polish, it didn’t show. She wished he’d take them out of her sight.

He uncrossed his ankles. “You’re making Hannah happy.”

“Your daughter’s your responsibility, not mine.”

“Hannah’s not a responsibility. She’s a privilege and a joy.”

Allie put Copper in the trailer, glad the task kept her face from Zane’s view. Once she’d anticipated having his children. Dreamed of seeing her sons and daughters on his shoulders, on his lap, in his arms. Her Hannah. Not another woman’s. Allie settled her hat firmly on her head, jumped down from the trailer and latched the back. “I should be able to come tomorrow. You told your daughter not to bother me. Take your own advice.”

Zane looked around. “Where is Hannah? I’m surprised the temptation of watching you and the filly wasn’t too much for her. Ruth must have called her in for dinner.” He hesitated, then walked toward the house.

Guilt needled Allie as she thought of her stern directive to the little girl. Not that she’d been wrong to order the child away from the corral. The girl would have disturbed Allie’s concentration and distracted the filly. Allie had no reason to feel guilty about a rational decision. Maybe Zane’s daughter had looked a little down at the mouth, but she was obviously a spoiled brat who used tears and pouting to wrap her father around her finger. Spoiling a child was bad for her. The child had to learn she couldn’t always do what she wanted.

Allie looked around for Moonie, frowning. It wasn’t like the greyhound to leave the spot where he’d been told to stay. Failing to locate him, she called, “Moonie, come here, boy, come. We’re going home, boy. Home!”

A sharp bark answered her call. Looking in the direction of the sound, Allie saw Moonie standing at the base of the large cottonwood tree.

“Come on, boy. Let’s go.”

The dog barked urgently, but stayed where he was.

Irritation swept over Allie. If that kid had dragged Moonie over there and tied him to the tree and then gone off and left him... Allie stomped toward the tree.

Stiff-legged, Moonie raised the pitch of his barking.

Seeing a patch of blue beside the dog, Allie broke into a run.

Zane’s daughter lay in a heap beneath the rope swing. Tears mingled with dirt to smear mud over her cheeks. “My arm hurts,” she whimpered as Allie dropped to her knees beside the child.

“Hannah?” Zane called from the front of the house.

“She’s over here. She hurt her arm,” Allie added as Zane came around the corner.

Trying to avoid bumping the arm his daughter cradled with her other hand, Zane carefully lifted her into his arms. “It’s okay, honey, Daddy has you. What happened?”

“I went really high to watch Allie and Honey and I fell.” She gave him a tiny, waterlogged smile of triumph. “I’m a good girl, Daddy. I stayed at my swing like Allie told me.”

CHAPTER THREE

ALLIE’S stomach churned with guilt and self-condemnation. Zane hadn’t given her a single accusatory look. He hadn’t uttered one word of blame. He hadn’t yelled at her for ordering his daughter to stay on the swing. He hadn’t blamed his daughter’s accident on Allie or done or said anything indicating he thought Allie was in any way at fault.

He didn’t have to. Allie knew she was to blame.

Greeley walked into the hospital waiting room in Aspen. “How is she?”

“She broke her left radius. This bone.” Allie pointed to her lower arm. “Luckily it was a simple fracture. They didn’t have to move it back into place or anything. They’re putting on a cast now. What are you doing here?”

“After you called her, Mom called me on the cell phone since I was on my way to Aspen to deliver a sculpture. I picked up Moonie from Zane’s truck and went over to your place and fed Amber and Moonie and walked him. He refused to stay there, so he’s out in my truck.” Greeley sat beside Allie. “Mom said you sounded pretty upset. You okay?”

“Sure, why wouldn’t I be? I didn’t break anything. It was all my fault,” Allie added in a rush.

“You push her out of the swing?”

Greeley meant the question to be absurd, but her sister wasn’t so far wrong. “I sent her away. Told her to go to her swing and stay there. When she fell, she lay under the swing in pain. She told Zane she was being a good girl.”

“Don’t tell me Zane is blaming you.”

“He hasn’t said anything, but he must blame me. If I hadn’t told her to stay there...”

“It could have been dangerous for you or for her if she’d climbed up on the round pen while you were working a green filly. You did the right thing telling her to stay away.”

“I shouldn’t have spoken so harshly.”

“Harshly? Or firmly?”

Allie clenched her hands together. “I used the voice I use when boys are fighting on the playground. Worth calls it my ‘or else’ voice.”

“An adult has to protect children from themselves. Don’t make a mountain out of a molehill.”

Allie didn’t know what to do with her hands. She picked at the frayed edges of the hole in the knee of her jeans. “I never wanted her to get hurt. I didn’t mean...”

Greeley patted Allie’s restless fingers. “Of course you didn’t.”

“Didn’t I?” The words burst from Allie. “What if, subconsciously, I wanted to hurt her, wanted her to go away, not just from the round pen, but go away forever?”

“What is with you? You don’t usually dramatize like this.”

“I’m serious, Greeley. I’ve been sitting here thinking about how much Zane hurt me and how much I hated him and hated that woman he married.”

“What does all this have to do with the girl’s fall?”

“Don’t you get it?” Allie leaned her head against the wall behind her chair. “The only reason Zane married that woman was because she was pregnant with his child. You have no idea how much I resented one little girl. It’s unreasonable, childish and ugly, but I couldn’t stop. I told myself she didn’t ask to be born, but...” Her voice faltered. “I couldn’t stop thinking, if she hadn’t been conceived, hadn’t been born...”

“I don’t think any of us had any idea you felt this way,” Greeley said slowly. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“What could I say that didn’t make me out more of a fool than I’d already been? I’d loved Zane so much for so long. What does that say about me that I loved someone so worthless, someone who could hurt me so badly? I know what happened was Zane’s fault, but if I blamed him, I admitted I was stupid, a loser. You know I’m too vain for that.” Allie made a pathetic attempt at a smile. “But I had to blame someone, so I blamed the woman he married, and by extension the baby, because without the baby he never would have married that woman. None of it makes sense, but I couldn’t help it.”