Colter Gamblers: Gambling On A Heart Part 9

Lance shrugged and looked down at his hands, which, Zack noticed with a glance, were curled into his thighs. "At the end of the month. But I know what he'll say. Two years ago, when we saw that other specialist, he didn't know why we aren't able to conceive and suggested we're trying too hard. How can we not try when the timing's right? Besides, Audrey and I never had a problem in the bedroom. I don't consider loving my wife 'trying too hard.' But I'll be thirty-seven in October. Audrey just turned thirty-five. We just want a baby before we're too d.a.m.ned old. If the specialist can't help, or she miscarries again, we're going to look into adoption."

Zack made a U-turn in the pasture and Lance asked, "What are you doing?"

"Taking you back to your wife." Zack looked at his first cousin again. "You and Audrey need a day away from this place. I suggest you pack a lunch and ride over to that little grove of trees by the lake on my side of the ranch and get busy."

"Or better yet, drive down to Crawford and use that hunting cabin on your uncle's ranch." Logan laughed and cuffed Lance on the shoulder. "Get going, Lancelot. Why should Estrada's Thunderbolt be the only stud making babies?"

Lance smiled and opened the door when Zack stopped the truck by the back of the house. He looked from Logan to Zack and bobbed his hat brim before jumping out.

Zack waited until his brother climbed in the front seat before driving off again. An uneasy silence buzzed the air. They both were avoiding the subject of their cousin's problems. Audrey had been pregnant twice early in their marriage. The first one she lost in an accident, the second one she miscarried. For the past six years, she hadn't been able to get pregnant at all.

"Would it really be all that terrible if that paint and those princesses were to mix?" Logan asked, breaking the silence by referring to the stallion and Zack's thoroughbred fillies.

"How about it's the wrong time of the year, and I would've liked to wait until next spring when the fillies were older before breeding them?" Zack glanced at Logan. "I'm sure that stud would throw some nice looking foals. He's a beautiful horse. I won't deny he looks like he's from good blood. Do you know where Luis got him?"

"I heard that stud was a rodeo bronco."

Zack spared a glance at his younger brother. "Really? Local or national circuit?"

"Don't know. I just know Luis bought him hoping to use him for breeding."

"Interesting. I drew a stallion I swear was possessed by demons in the last NRF I was in."

Logan fiddled with the radio and chuckled. "I remember."

As Alan Jackson's Livin' on Love came streaming out of the speakers, Zack flashed Logan a grin. "That was the longest eight seconds of my life." He'd won the saddle bronco t.i.tle that year and walked away with more cash than most people made in a year in prize money, and a silver belt buckle. Zack lost the c.o.c.kiness as he remembered the ride that ended his career. "I drew that same horse again in Cheyenne the following year. That monster must have remembered me, because he showed me in a big hurry that he was the boss. Five seconds out of the chute, he had me in the dust and cracked two of my ribs."

"Thus, the end of Zachery Cartwright's rodeoing days."

Zack could sense his brother watching him.

"Why'd you give it all up so easily?" Logan asked. "It's not like you hadn't eaten dirt or gotten kicked in the ribs before."

"You know why." Zack looked at Logan. "I met Lisa. She hated everything to do with rodeo."

"Yet, you weren't willing to give it up for Tracy."

"That's different and you know it." Zack tightened his grip on the steering wheel as he fought to keep his voice level. Logan knew exactly which of his b.u.t.tons to push. "Tracy was supposed to be going to college, then on to medical school. Instead she was s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g my best friend."

Logan sighed and shook his head. "Ever wonder about why she'd do that?"

"h.e.l.l, yes!" Zack focused on the rutted trail. "For over two years, I wondered. I still wonder," he added a little subdued as he remembered their evening together watching her son's team win the football game.

"Zack," Logan said calmly, "have you ever asked her?"

"No."

"Why not? It's all over town that you and she are seeing each other."

Zack glared at his brother. "We aren't 'seeing each other.' Being forced together for her brother's wedding and sitting together at a Pee Wee football game isn't dating."

"Mandy likes her."

"Mandy likes everyone. She takes after her mother. But even if I did want to date Tracy, I couldn't. Mandy is too"

"Bulls.h.i.t."

Zack stopped the truck beside the patched fence and snapped his attention on his brother as heat climbed his neck.

Logan didn't give him a chance to explode. "You're still blaming yourself for Lisa's death. Why is that? She's the one who got mad, walked out, and chose to drive on a snow-covered mountain road."

"I should've realized how hard my PTSD was on her."

Logan huffed. "Lisa was a nurse. She would have understood how watching your buddy getting shot after he saved your life had affected you. If I had to guess, I think you fought about something a lot more personal than your drinking whiskey instead of eating her cooking."

Zack wouldn't talk about the fight that ended with Lisa losing her life. He pushed the door open with more force than it required and got out, then slammed it for good measure.

Logan followed him at a much more leisurely pace.

Zack lowered the tailgate and started unloading tools. "You never did tell me why you're here."

Logan grabbed the cooler he'd put on the truck bed back at Lance's barn. "I wanted to talk to you."

After depositing the crate of hand tools on the ground beside the bundle of barbed wire and cedar fence posts he'd brought out yesterday, Zack straightened and narrowed his eyes on Logan. "Since when have you ever wanted my opinion on anything? You're the one with all the answers."

"I don't want your opinion. But I hope I get your support." Logan sat the cooler down and faced Zack. In jeans, plaid cotton shirt, boots, and Stetson, Logan looked every bit like the cowboy he pretended to be when he was up on stage singing before an audience. Zack knew his brother had no interest in the ranch or working on it. He didn't have much interest in being a lawyer either. Logan rubbed a hand over the dark growth of beard on his chin. "Thanks for coming to my shows over the past few months. It means a lot having you out in the audience."

Zack shrugged and grabbed a posthole digger from the truck bed. "I never said you couldn't sing, Logan. But, I think sometimes you're putting too much energy into a hobby."

"What if singing and songwriting weren't hobbies anymore?"

Zack met his brother's green eyes. "Logan, you had your chance, and it didn't happen. Let it go."

"No. One lousy summer in Nashville when I was eighteen doesn't count. Sure, I fell on my face. I didn't get a record deal, but I never gave it a chance either. I expected to blow into town and sing in a couple of bars and get picked up in a few months. To be honest, I figured Mom's fame would have opened doors for me. It didn't, and I was too impatient and let one no, thank you discourage me. I came back to Texas and headed off to college like Dad wanted me to. But I'm selling songs I've written to big name singers. Seth Kendall's latest number one single is one of my songs, and Nate McConnell's got one climbing the charts." He tapped his chest. "I have a CD full of my own music that's selling locally and a couple of demos making the circuit in Nashville. Plus, I'm a h.e.l.l of a lot smarter now."

"That's giving up a lot for a dream. You're a lawyer, too. A d.a.m.ned good one. What's Lance think of you leaving the firm?" Zack put his hands on his hips and a.s.sessed the job in front of them.

"I've already talked to Lance. He's willing to cut me loose from the firm, but I can come back if things don't work out again. My only pending case goes to court in a couple of weeks. After it's settled, I'll be set."

No one could talk reason into Logan once he had his mind set on something. So, Zack let the subject slide. He glanced at his brother. "By the way, why the h.e.l.l haven't you ever given me a copy of your CD?"

Logan shrugged and turned away. "Because I figured you wouldn't want it."

Zack shook his head and looked down at his scuffed work boots. "Well, I do want a copy. Logan, it's not that I don't believe in you, but I hope you know what you're doing. I'd hate to see you fail again."

Logan sucked in a breath and glowered. "Why are my mistakes always failures, but yours are always someone else's fault?"

Zack faced Logan. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"I think you d.a.m.n well know what it means. You and Tracy.

"What"

"Have you ever considered if you would've told her that you loved her, she might not have ever done what she did?"

Pinning Logan with a scowl, Zack took a step forward. "She knew that I loved her!"

"How?" Before Zack could answer, Logan said, "Tracy came to Colton as a shy, gangly, cross-eyed girl that had only one boyfriend before you. You were the catch of Colton High. How many girls had you dated before Tracy? Ten, fifteen? What if Tracy figured she was just one more statistic? Holy h.e.l.l, Zack, you're the one who gave her the G.o.d-awful nickname of Olive Oyl."

"I..." Zack paused and remembered. He'd never told Tracy he loved her and had no real good reason as to why he hadn't confessed his feelings for her. "That still doesn't excuse the fact I caught her in the middle of the act with my best friend."

Logan stepped over to Zack and put his hand on his shoulder. "Ask her about that, will ya? And if y'all do have a shot at an encore, don't a.s.sume she knows how you feel." Logan stepped away and grabbed a pair of work gloves from the crate of tools. "Let's get busy. I have a gig tonight, and we're burnin' daylight."

Chapter 7.

Zack pulled his official Tahoe in behind the brand, spanking new Chevy Silverado and called in the license plate, which was standard procedure, but a waste of time. He already knew who the driver was.

"Morning, Brent." Zack pushed his Stetson farther back on his head to allow him a better look at the speeder through his mirrored sungla.s.ses.

The youngest Parker brother looked over the star pinned on Zack's uniform before meeting his eyes. With a what-can-I-do-for-ya grin, Brent said, "Howdy, Zack. Is there a problem?"

"Sure is." It never failed to amaze him how often drivers breaking the law asked that question. "A big problem. You were going fifty-three in a twenty-five mile per hour speed zone."

Zack was waiting for the rest of the script, where Brent would play coy and deny that he knew he was driving excessively. Instead, he said, "S'pose I was goin' a little too fast."

"Speeding in this part of town isn't acceptable, especially with the elementary school on this street." The school my daughter attends. "I'll need your driver's license, registration, and proof of insurance."

Brent chuckled, but it sounded a tad shaky. "C'mon, Zack, you aren't really gonna give me a ticket, are you?"

A pa.s.sing driver honked, so Zack turned to see a Ford Escape. He waved before looking back at Brent. "Yes. I'm giving you a ticket."

"Boy, those Marines made you a hard-a.s.s, huh?" Brent dug around in his glove box. He straightened with a grunt and pushed his lank dark hair from his face. "Here."

With a curt nod, Zack took the information, went back to his SUV, and wrote the citation. Handing the ticket, license, registration and insurance card to Brent, Zack made a show of looking over the truck. "Nice wheels. Your driving gig with Jake must be paying well."

Brent didn't even glance at the slip of paper and cards before tossing them onto the seat beside him. From behind his sungla.s.ses, Zack watched him closely. He'd known Brent as long as he'd known Jake, which amounted to Brent's entire life. The air conditioner was working overtime, if the cool air escaping the open window was any indication, but Brent had sweat beading on his forehead. He also drummed his fingers in a fast tattoo. Brent looked out the windshield and said, "Yeah, it is."

"Good. You've been out of work for a long time."

"I've heard you're seeing Tracy." Brent looked back at Zack.

"What?"

"Jake mentioned he'd seen y'all at Bobby's ball game. He said you and her looked pretty chummy."

Zack wasn't about to discuss Tracy with Jake's brother. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Brent's smile rounded his already pie face even more, and he shrugged his wide shoulders. "Oh, maybe that's why she's back with Logan, then. Are you done, here?"

"Yeah." Zack stepped back and touched the brim of his Stetson. "Slow down."

Brent glanced at Zack, nodded and put the truck into gear. Zack watched him ease away from the curb. "Oh, Brent, my boy, you're such a tool."

As Zack got back into the SUV, his mind suddenly replayed a snippet of Brent's last comment. Back with Logan? What the h.e.l.l did that mean? Tracy and Logan were never togetheror were they? He knew they'd become friends over the years. He remembered the few times Tracy showed up at honky-tonks where Logan's band played. The first time had been back in April down in Waco where she'd dressed to turn heads. Had it been Logan she'd hoped to impress? The bitter twist in his gut reminded him of the feelings he had when Tracy had cheated on him. He didn't care what Tracy did. He couldn't care. She meant nothing to him. They were barely friends.

Then why did he suddenly want to see her?

Why had she been at the forefront of every thought he'd had since her brother's wedding?

He stopped at the intersection and took a deep breath. As he let it out, he corralled his conflicted feelings for Tracy into a corner of his mind and focused on Brent. Something was up with him. He'd asked Tracy to keep her ears open. Maybe she'd heard something he hadn't.

When the light turned green, he circled the block and headed to Tracy's salon.

After Tracy removed the gla.s.ses she only wore to do computer work and to read, she sat back in her office chair. The letter from Jake's lawyer, informing her of his intentions to reopen their custody case, came to mind. She wasn't ready for a battle. Her father had advised her to dump her c.r.a.ppy lawyer and get a real one; after all, she could afford one. And she knew who she wanted to handle the case. Hopefully, she hadn't waited too long. They were due in court in less than two weeks.

She wasn't the type to cause waves, though Lord knew, she'd caused more than her share indirectly. Shaking her head, Tracy put her real problem aside to think of a less painful one. She couldn't afford to become a sobbing mess for the afternoon. Her schedule was too fullone color, two perms, and two cuts and styles. Then she'd have to concentrate on the calculus cla.s.s she'd been crazy enough to sign up for.

Melissa was doing well, and she'd cover the Thursday evening hours, but she was new and it would take a while before the women Tracy serviced trusted her with their hair.

She sipped her coffee and thought about what Melissa had asked earlier. What was she going to do with the apartment above the shop? That was much more conducive to getting through her day than thinking about living without her baby.

Renting it out made the most sense, but she couldn't bring herself to do so. She'd bought the old Victorian house on College Street a few months after her divorce became final. The downstairs had been a mom and pop store that had gone out of business. The upstairs had been remodeled into a two-bedroom apartment. It had been perfect for her and Bobby; they lived in the apartment, and she'd set up her styling salon on the main floor.

She understood her attachment to the apartment stemmed from it being the first and only place she could ever call truly her own. The big ranch house was beautiful and she could redecorate it in any way she wanted to, but it wasn't hers. Dylan owned it.

Besides, her parents lived there as well. She had no idea how long that was going to work. Her parents hadn't been around since she was eighteen, when her father had been a.s.signed to Pennsylvania, and her mother had left to be with him while Tracy entered college in Colton.

"Oh, stop stalling." The small place would be perfect for college students. A great many of her clientele came from the college at the northeast edge of town, just up the street. Making up her mind, she decided she'd call Mrs. Pratt, who owned a boarding house a few blocks away. She'd know how to go about having her place listed in the college housing office.

With that problem solved, her mind was again free. However, it wasn't the pending custody battle with Jake that came to mind. She closed her eyes and replayed her evening with Zack at the football game last Wednesday. He'd actually flirted with her, though what had touched her more was his treating her like a friend.

The bell over the front door tinkled, and Tracy glanced at her watch. Her ten o'clock appointment had cancelled at the last minute, and she wasn't expecting anyone until one. She moved down the short hall into the reception area of her shop.

The smile she'd pasted on to greet the potential customer became genuine the moment she noticed Logan Cartwright closing the door. "My goodness, I know certain people call me an artist, but I'm not sure anyone could make you beautiful."

"Well, since I'm already drop dead gorgeous, it's a good thing I'm not here for your services." He laughed and embraced her in a tight hug.

"Is that what all the groupies are telling you?" Tracy stepped away from one of her best friends in the world. "How many times do I have to tell you not to believe them?" Although she was partial to only one of the Cartwright men, Logan was considered by most of the females in town to be as s.e.xy, if not a little s.e.xier than his cowboy-turned-Marine-turned-sheriff brother. She figured it had more to do with the fact he was a successful lawyer in his cousin's law firm and just happened to be a fantastic singer.

"A few more times, at least." He lost the smirk. "How's college treating you?"