Home To Texas - Ransom My Heart Part 18

"This is Amanda," she offered softly.

"Mandy, this is ... Mr. McCullar."

"Hi," Mandy said, looking up into blue eyes that were a mirror of her own.

Chase swallowed, the effort of the motion visible and painful to watch, but he didn't speak. He nodded instead, a simple, wordless acknowledgment of the child's greeting.

When he didn't say anything else, Mandy turned back to Samantha.

"I learned a new song," she said.

"It's about a cat. I can teach you."

"Okay," Samantha agreed, hut she wasn't looking at her daughter. Her focus was still on the face of the man standing before her, its harsh lines seemingly carved from granite.

"Why?" he asked. His voice was too soft.

There wasn't an answer, and she didn't attempt one.

"You told me..." he began and then he paused before he went on, still gathering control. "That night... You told me it was taken care of." "I know," she said. "I was afraid if I didn't, you'd send me away. And I guess ... I just thought it wouldn't matter," she whispered. Finally they had been together, and if she had thought about consequences, it had not been with fear, but with joy at the possibility of a baby. Even Sam wouldn't stand in the way then, she remembered thinking.

But nothing had worked out as she had thought it would."Wouldn't matter?" he repeated, his tone incredulous.He hadn't understood. She didn't mean that having a child wouldn't matter, but that it wouldn't change anything.That night they had finally acknowledged what had always been betweenthem. She had believed that after that, nothing could ever separatethem, nothing could come between them. Except ... it hadn't worked out that way. She had always believed that was because Chase hadn't wantedit to.Because he hadn't cared. He had meant what he'd said.Just satisfy the itch and then get on with their lives.Now, so many things seemed to argue against that long-held belief. The way he had treated her this week. The way she would sometimes look up and find him watching her, the same look in his eyes that had been in them then.

And now his reaction to Mandy.

"How could you have thought ... this wouldn't matter?" he asked again.

"Because I thought we'd be together," she admitted softly.

He laughed, the sound of it as harsh and bitter as before, when she had

told him that Jenny was dating someone.

"I.

guess that's why you married someone else instead of telling me what

was going on," he said.

"Your choice or Sam's?"

"You don't understand," she whispered.

"You're d.a.m.n straight about that. I don't understand. No matter what you and Sam felt about me, it seems I had a right to know--"

"Please, Chase," she begged.

"Not now. Not here." Deliberately she glanced down at the little girl who was listening to this. Mandy wouldn't understand, of course, but she had sensed the tension. Her eyes were wide, moving from her mother's face to his.

Not in front of Amanda, Chase realized. She was right.

As much as he wanted to scream out his outrage at what they had done, it couldn't be with their daughter listening.

"I'll find us a place to sleep," he said instead. Then he turned his back and walked away from them.

"Mama?" Mandy questioned.

"It's okay," she soothed, tugging gently on the nearest ponytail.

"Everything's going to be okay, Cupcake. I promise you."

Wishful thinking. A promise she wouldn't be able to keep. Because watching Chase walk away from them made her know that without him, nothing in her life would ever be okay again.

j THE KIDNAPPER HAD BEEN right about the miners' trail. It was still faintly visible and that made what they had to do possible. Chase carried the little girl, her soft arms locked trustingly around his neck. It would have been easier to carry her on his back, but his left shoulder was too bad now to manage that.

Instead he held her on his right hip, his arm around her bottom. He could smell the sweet, sun-touched fragrance of her hair, blond curls brushing against his face when she turned her head to watch her mother's progress.

Most of the time she sang, not singing to him, Chase gradually realized, but under her breath, entertaining herself.

He recognized most of the usual children's songs, but some were new to him. Her favorite seemed to be a Spanish song about a cat. Her new friend with the mustache had taught her, she confided when he asked about it, and she was afraid she'd forget the words. Rosita would help her remember when they got back to Granddaddy Sam's.

Her natural faith in the goodness of people had not been damaged, it seemed, despite her ordeal. That trust came from the love that had always surrounded her, Chase knew.

He would have to give the Kincaids credit for that, in spite of the fact they had decided that he should have no role in her life. Again he buried the bitterness and listened to his daughter's ginging as he carded her back to the safe and secure world the Kincaid wealth had created for her.

WHEN THEY FINALLY reached civilization, Samantha called to give her father the good news that they had Mandy and to ask for his help in getting them the rest of the way home as quickly as possible. Sam dispatched one of the ranch's choppers to pick them up, and Jason Drake arrived less than an hour after Samantha had placed the call.

Judging by the quickly concealed shock in Drake's eyes when he saw them, she thought it was probably a good thing that her father hadn't come himself. She had known the three of them were the worse for wear and apparently they looked it. The mining camp might not have been far from the border, but the terrain they'd had to cross to reach the river would have been hard enough for experienced adults to manage traveling alone, much more so with the added burden of a four-year-old child.

Despite whatever was now obviously wrong with his shoulder, Chase had carded Amanda most of the way. He hadn't complained, of course, but she had been aware of the care he took when he had to move his left ann. She could only imagine the cost of carrying the little girl up and down the challenging rock face they'd crossed.

At least neither of them had had breath to spare for conversation.

The explanation she had promised would have to wait until they'd reached the ranch. All the time she was physically struggling over the ridge and trudging stoically across the final stretch of gra.s.sland to the Rio Grande, her mind had also been struggling with what she could possibly say to Chase McCullar.

What words should come after You have a daughter, bright and loving and beautiful, and I have kept her existence a secret from you? What words could ever change the reality, the selfish cruelty, of that? None of the things she had felt about Chase's desertion seemed to amount to much in the face of what she had done. And it was no excuse, she acknowledged, that she truly hadn't realized what she had done until she had seen his face the day he learned he had fathered this child.

"Almost there, Mrs. Berkley," Drake said rea.s.suringly.

"Thanks," she said, smiling at him. She had always admired Jason Drake for putting up with Sam's sometimes-irascible demands and peppery temper. Today she appreciated his calm efficiency and the care he was taking of them. A good man, she thought, and a good friend, just as her father had said.

Amanda was asleep in her arms, exhausted by the journey they'd made. She couldn't see Chase because he was sitting behind them. He hadn't said anything to her in the last eighteen hours. His conversation after they'd met up with Drake had been almost monosyllabic, definitely non-communicative.

She couldn't decide if that was from anger or exhaustion or pain. She would make Sam have a doctor look him over, she decided. Mandy, too, of course, just as a precaution.

She cupped her hand behind the head of her sleeping daughter and touched her lips to the smooth forehead, keeping the pressure of the kiss too light to chance waking her.

She had Mandy back and that should mean all was right with her world. Only it wasn't--not anymore--and she knew why. She just didn't know what to do about it.

As they approached the ranch's landing strip, she saw that Sam was waiting for them, the hot afternoon wind blowing through his shock of white hair. He had one hand up to shade his eyes, watching as the helicopter began its descent. He was too stubborn to wear sungla.s.ses, even in the strong Texas sun, even with the threat of cataracts. She waved at him, and he lifted his hand in response. Drake gave him a thumbs-up through the windshield. Ali's well.

Everyone safe.

She didn't protest when Jason reached to take Amanda from her to carry her to where Sam was waiting for them.

Her own knees felt weak, and she wasn't sure she was up to even that short journey carrying the sleeping child. Chase was obviously hurt, so it seemed to make sense to let Drake take Amanda.

But it had been another mistake, she realized when she met the coldness in Chase's eyes. Amanda was his daughter.

He had carried her through the mountains despite his injury, and now Jason Drake was handing the little girl to Sam as if he'd had something to do with the rescue.

When Samantha reached her father, for the first time in years she had the urge to run into his arms. Sam must have sensed her unusual reaction. He was still holding Amanda, so he just pulled Samantha to him and squeezed her hard against his other side.

"You all right?" he asked.

She nodded, laying her cheek against the almost-forgotten starch-fragranced comfort of her father's plaid shirt. It felt good to be hugged. It had felt good to let someone else carry the burdens for a while, to handle the planning and see to all the details. Just as it had felt good to have Chase's quiet strength beside her while they searched for Mandy.

The irony was that this was what she had always fought against in the past--not being allowed to stand on her own feet. She found herself wondering why she had thought through all those years that she couldn't accept anyone's help. Now she felt only a deep sense of grat.i.tude to the men who had cared for her and Mandy when they had needed thegn most. She was immensely grateful to both of them.

"Thank you," Sam echoed that grat.i.tude, his voice directed over her shoulder. She turned, almost but not quite moving out of the circle of her father's arm, and found Chase watching them.

"Thanks for bringing them home safe. A good job, McCullar. I want you to know I'm grateful. I don't forget those who do fight by me and mine."

Chase said nothing for a moment, his eyes on the old man, and then he glanced at Samantha. The look was too brief to allow her to identify the flash of emotion that had been in the blue eyes before they moved back to Sam.

"I lost half your money, Mr. Kincaid. Half a million dollars. I let it be taken away from me, and then I had to promise the kidnapper I'd deliver another half million to him in order to get him to give us Amanda. I gave him your word that I'd bring the money. And my word," he added. The recital of events had been almost emotionless, as were his harsh features.

"Somebody ambushed us," Samantha said, trying to explain what had happened. The version Chase had told wasn't anywhere near the truth. Or maybe it was just the truth without the details, without all the mitigating circ.u.mstances.

"They shot out the tire and the Land Rover went over a ravine, and then they tried to kill us. We had to leave part of the ransom and run or we would have been killed. What happened wasn't Chase's fault," she added.

"And I'm the one who offered the kidnapper the money."

Sam nodded, his eyes still on the cold blue ones.

"I'll get the other half million," he said.

"I'll get to work on gathering it up right away. And your fee, of course." "No fee," Chase said.

"That's for when I'm successful, not when the whole thing goes to h.e.l.l."

Sam turned his head slightly, his chin touching against the blond curls of the sleeping child.

"Seems like this qualifies as success. At least to me it does. It never mattered what it would cost to get her back. You kne that. And I always pay what I--" "I don't want your money, Mr. Kincaid. I haven't earned it. Despite what your daughter said, this was a fiasco from the beginning. The only reason we got Amanda back is that we got lucky. That's all. Just sheer blind luck. There's no charge for luck."

He nodded to Sam and then minutely to Samantha, his eyes again holding hers for only a second. He moved past them, walking across the tarmac in the direction Jason Drake was already moving in. They both turned to watch the two figures grow smaller, eventually swallowed up by the heat rising in distorted waves from the runway.

"What'd you tell him?" Sam asked.

She shook her head, still watching Chase.

"Nothing," she said finally, her voice almost a whisper.

"He didn't give me a chance to explain. I don't know what I would have said if he had. It seems you were right."

"Me?" Sam asked.

"Right about what?"

"You told me a long time ago that he had a right to know. You said that any man would want to know, no matter what the circ.u.mstances were. That was one more time I should have listened to you. One of many, I guess."

"He gonna make trouble?" Sam asked. He shifted Mandy's limp body, settling her into a more secure position.

"Not the kind you mean," she said softly.

The trouble Chase McCullar represented had already happened, the same trouble he'd always represented for her, and it wasn't the legal kind. Not the kind Sam was worried about. Chase wouldn't try to take Mandy away from her.

She didn't know why she was so sure about that, except maybe because she knew he hadn't changed at all. He was the same man she'd fallen in love with so long ago. A man of honor, she thought, A man who had never deserved what she had done to him.

Chapter Ten.

Once Chase reached the Kincaid house, he didn't wait for Samantha and her father to arrive. He borrowed another vehicle, making his request to Sam's a.s.sistant. Drake hadn't asked any questions, his gray eyes this time full of something that looked almost like sympathy. The pickup he'd provided had a full tank of gas and a Texas road map in the pocket of the door.

Chase didn't need either. It wasn't until he was on McCullar land that he stopped the truck. He pulled his aching body out of the cab to look down on the sweep of barren earth that met the silver ribbon of the river, winding against the backdrop of the brown hills of Mexico. Like a hurt dog, he had run home with his tail between his legs.

He could see both McCullar houses from this vantage point. That was why he had come. A last look at what had once been his and Mac's--their heritage. The little house he had built didn't seem to have changed, at least not from up here. There were new outbuildings--stables, maybe--but the house itself appeared to be just the same.

He couldn't see enough detail of Mac's place to make any judgment about what had happened there, but there were changes, he knew. Thinking about Jenny living there with someone besides Mac was hard. That was change enough. Something he wasn't sure he could bear.

He remembered thinking how one event could change your life. Like what had happened to Mac had changed his, changed it in ways he hadn't even known about until now.

His determination to take care of his family, to make sure Rio paid for what he'd done, had cost him Samantha. And Amanda. Even now, he wasn't sure he could have done anything different, but he hadn't been given the chance to decide.