The Heart of a Cowboy
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Trish Milburn
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HarlequinChapter One
The new colt marshaled his strength and pushed up onto his long, spindly legs for the first time, drawing a smile from Natalie Todd. She watched as the little guy steadied himself on legs spread wide then as his dam groomed him. A couple of wobbly steps brought the newborn close enough to his mother to nurse. No matter how many horses Natalie helped into the world, the wonder never faded.
âHard to believe they were in distress only an hour ago,â Jacob Hartwell said as he came to stand beside her.
âMaybe Mama here just wanted some female company.â
Jacob laughed a little. âMaybe. She certainly doesnât have a lot around here.â
Steven Hartwell, patriarch of the Hartwell ranching family, was a widower, and his two sons, Steven Jr. and Jacob, were still single. Even though Jacob flirted with her a little every time she came out to the ranch, she knew it was harmless and not at all serious.
âWell, it looks like you have a handsome little fella to add to your testosterone ranch.â
âYou could always marry me and bring some female beauty to the place.â
Natalie rolled her eyes and stepped back from the stall. âSee ya around, Jacob.â
âThanks again, Doc.â
She threw him a wave as she turned and headed out of the barn into the deep cover of night. As she strode toward her truck, she considered just curling up in the seat and catching a quick nap. Sheâd had a long day at the clinic and then because she was the vet on call tonight, her phone had rung about fifteen minutes after sheâd fallen asleep.
When she dragged herself into the driverâs seat, however, her thoughts drifted to her comfortable bed. What was another half hourâs drive back to her apartment? Hopefully there wouldnât be any more equine or bovine emergencies tonight. At least the Hartwellsâ ranch was closer to her place south of Wichita than a lot of other ranches the clinic serviced.
She started the engine and headed toward the highway. Once she got away from the ranch, the landscape darkened around her. With no moon and some cloud cover, the southern Kansas landscape was pitch-black. It took ten minutes of driving before she began to see the glow of Wichitaâs lights to the north. Only a few minutes and a quick shower more and sheâd be curling back into her bed.
Her phone rang on the seat beside her, eliciting a groan and, yes, maybe even a whimper. She slowed, thankful there wasnât any traffic, and glanced at the phone. Her heart gave a painful thud when she saw it was her mom calling. Knowing it wasnât going to be a happy conversation, she pulled off the road. Her hand shook as she picked up the phone and answered.
âHi, Mom.â
âDid I wake you?â Her motherâs voice sounded tired, but then Natalie couldnât really remember a time when her mom wasnât tired.
âNo. Actually, Iâm driving back from delivering a foal.â When her mom didnât say anything in response, Natalie knew for certain why her mother had called. âItâs time, isnât it?â
âYes.â Now her momâs voice sounded as if it was laced with tears.
âIâll get there as fast as I can.â
âBe safe, okay? I donât want you to have a wreck.â
âIâll be careful.â
But even though Natalie knew that her fatherâs time was ticking away, she didnât speed. Though it made no sense, some part of her believed if she drew out how long it took her to arrive at her parentsâ house in Wichita, the longer her dad would have. But that was cruel because he was suffering, had been suffering for a long time. Thatâs what a lifetime of drinking brought a person, a painful death via liver failure.
Pain of a different kind punched her right in her middle, the realization that probably before the night was through her dad would be gone forever. She bit her bottom lip and pressed down harder on the accelerator.
Twenty minutes later, she pulled up in front of her parentsâ small home, the one sheâd helped them buy because they never would have been able to purchase one on their own. She cut the engine but didnât get out of the truck. Instead, she stared at her momâs older-model car sitting in the carport. Behind it sat a small SUV belonging to her sister Allison, whoâd driven down the day before from Kansas City, bringing their youngest sister, Renee, with her. Her entire family was inside the little blond-brick home, sitting around waiting for her father to die.
She gripped the steering wheel, fighting the visceral need to drive away, as far and as fast as she could. Even though sheâd known this moment was coming for months, she still wasnât ready. It wasnât as if she had a perfect relationship with her dad, but he was still her dad and she loved him, despite everything. She wanted to be angry that heâd done this to himself, that his drinking had made his wifeâs and daughtersâ lives much more difficult than they should have been. But what was the use of being angry now? It wasnât going to change the outcome.
With a deep, shaky breath, she opened the truck door and slipped out onto the quiet street. Almost every light in every house was dark, except for those of her parents and Jackie Kincaid across the street, the neighborhood gossip to beat all neighborhood gossips. Natalie resisted the evil urge to find the nearest paintball gun and cover Jackieâs big picture window with globs of paint. Instead, she forced herself to walk toward her parentsâ front door.
She didnât knock, instead slipping quietly into the living room to find Renee sitting there alone, reading a copy of some French magazine sheâd obviously brought with her from Paris. Natalie had the unkind thought that Renee might have brought the magazine solely as an outward symbol of just how far away sheâd gone from Wichita and their family. Part of Natalie couldnât blame her for leaving, but now wasnât the time to bring it up. Natalie kept those thoughts to herself as her sister looked up and smiled at her.
âHey, Nat.â Renee jumped up and wrapped Natalie in a hug.
Needing that hug more than she cared to admit, Natalie held her baby sister a little longer than Renee probably expected, then continued to hold on to her upper arms as she took in how different her sister looked.
âI like the new haircut,â she said as she finally released her sister.
Renee ran a hand over the chic bob. âThanks.â
As Natalie examined Renee from head to toe, she realized that her sister looked more European than Midwestern. An odd sense of loss settled in Natalieâs heart despite the fact that Renee had been living in France for five years.
Natalie glanced toward the hallway that led to the bedrooms. âHowâs he doing?â
âDreadful.â
Natalie jerked as if sheâd been slapped.
Renee softened her expression. âSorry. Iâm too blunt sometimes.â
âI know you probably donât want to be here, but thanks for coming.â
Renee shrugged. âIâm not totally without feeling. Thereâs a part of me that loves him because heâs my dad, even though he wasnât worth much.â
âRenee.â Natalie knew she sounded like the scolding older sister, but she couldnât help it even though there was some truth in her sisterâs words.
âTell me Iâm wrong.â
Natalie couldnât. Their dadâs drinking had led to him not being able to keep a job, to their mom working two jobs to support their family of five. He hadnât been mean, or violent, but his inability to conquer whatever demons that led him to drink had caused his family a lot of hardship.
Not wanting to focus on the past, Natalie instead took a fortifying breath and headed toward her parentsâ bedroom. The mingling scents of cleansers and sickness assaulted her as she entered the bedroom, and it took all her effort not to let the way her stomach turned show on her face.
Allison was the first to notice her and gave her a tired smile. Her sister reached across the bed and gently touched her momâs hand and nodded toward Natalie.
Her mom stood on legs that looked as shaky as the newborn coltâs and wrapped Natalie in her arms. âIâm glad you made it safely.â
Natalie was struck by just how thin her mother felt and wondered if she hadnât been eating properly.
âThereâs my other girl.â
Natalie looked toward the sound of her fatherâs thin, labored voice. As unkind as it was to think it, Renee was right. Bill Todd did look dreadful with jaundiced skin and eyes, cracked lips and swelling in his abdomen that was obvious even under the blanket covering him. Heâd never been a big, strapping man, but now he honestly looked like the death he was facing.
Her mom stepped back, indicating that Natalie should take the dining room chair that sat next to the bed. Natalie wondered how many hours her mother had sat in that uncomfortable chair at her husbandâs side, watching him slip away more with each passing minute.
âHey, Dad.â Somehow she managed to force some chipper light into her voice as she sat and placed her hand over his gnarled one.
He tried to squeeze her hand but obviously didnât have the strength to do so. Sadness swept over her, not so much that his life was ending but that so much of it had been wasted. All the times heâd made her mad, embarrassed her, caused her to question why she hadnât been born into another family tumbled through her mind. It all could have been so different if he hadnât been trapped in an unhealthy relationship with alcohol.
âIâd like to talk to Natalie alone.â He took a shallow breath, as if only a small portion of his lungs remained functional.
Natalie tried to figure out why heâd want her mother and Allison to leave the room, but then she caught a glance between her parents, an understanding of some sort. What was going on?
Her mom ushered an equally confused Allison from the room and closed the door behind them. When Natalie looked back at her dad, his eyes were closed, and for a split second she thought he was gone. But then she saw the faint movement of his chest.
âDo you remember when I took you fishing the first time?â
Her forehead wrinkled at the out-of-nowhere question, and she wondered if his mind was going before his body. When he opened his eyes and focused on her, she realized she hadnât answered him.
âYeah. The first and only, if I recall.â
The edges of his mouth lifted in a weak smile, and she forced one in return though sheâd never felt less like smiling.
âYou always did love animals of all kinds, couldnât stand to see them hurt,â he said. âI can still see the tears in your eyes when you realized the hook was stuck in the fishâs mouth.â
Even though sheâd been sad at the time, as she looked back it was one of her favorite memories of her dad. Theyâd still lived in Texas then, and that day heâd seemed to be totally sober, the kind of dad sheâd always wanted. Though itâd been many years since that day, she remembered the hope that had surged within her. Sometimes hope was cruel when it led you down a path toward even more hurt.
His smile faded away, and she wasnât sure if it was because it took too much energy to maintain or a darker thought had shoved aside the happy memory.
Despite everything, she searched for a way to make him smile again. âI remember we sat beside the lake and had chicken-salad sandwiches and bread-and-butter pickles from the Primrose CafĂ©.â
The barest hint of a smile tugged at his lips. âI canât believe you remember all those details. You were so small.â
Sheâd liked living in Blue Falls and the fun sheâd had with her best friend, Chloe. But she also remembered how her heart had broken when her dad said they had to move to Kansas. Sheâd watched the lights of Blue Falls fade away as she stared through the back window of their old Buick sedan, fat tears streaming down her face.
Her father turned his hand so that he could hold hers. âIâm sorry I wasnât the father you and your sisters should have had. I wanted to be, but...â He shook his head on his pillow. âThereâs no excuse.â
She wanted to tell him it was okay, to let him be able to slip into the next life knowing he was forgiven. But the words got stuck in her throat, and all she could manage was to squeeze his hand. He looked so haunted, more so than sheâd ever seen him.
âWhat was it that made you drink so much, Dad?â Sheâd asked before, many times, but heâd never had an answer. The intensity of her need to know felt as if it was burning a hole inside her. This time, when his eyes met hers, she could tell he was finally going to tell her. Suddenly, she was scared to know the truth. Had it been better all along not knowing?
No, she needed this answer, whether or not it proved satisfying.
âThere was a reason we left Texas. I...I was in an accident.â He paused, and she wondered if he was reconsidering telling her the truth. âI hit someone, and then I ran.â
âYou were in a hit-and-run?â For some reason, it took a moment for her to realize heâd fled because he was driving drunk, that he could have ended up in jail.
âYes. I hit another car. I stopped to check on the driver, but...there was nothing I could do.â
Natalieâs stomach churned. Surely he wasnât saying what it seemed, that heâd... âDad, no.â
âI knew the moment I saw her that she was dead.â
Oh, God, this couldnât be happening. Without thinking, she slipped her hand out of her fatherâs grasp. âYouâre confused, not remembering things correctly.â That was a symptom of late-stage liver failure, right? This couldnât be a horrible deathbed confession.
âI wish that was true.â He shifted his eyes to stare at the ceiling, and she got the impression it was so he wouldnât cry. âBut the truth is that your father is worse than you ever realized. I killed someone and I never owned up to it, not even when I realized who Iâd hit.â
âYou knew her?â Her question came out as a strangled whisper. But in the next breath, the true horror of his confession slammed into her. âNo. Please tell me youâre not saying what I think you are.â
His bottom lip trembled and he lost the war against his tears. âIt was Karen Brody.â
Natalie stood so quickly that she knocked the chair over and nearly followed it to the floor. Karen Brody, Chloeâs mom, the woman who had been like a second mother to Natalie. As if the mere mention of her name pulled a sense memory from Natalieâs mind, she suddenly smelled fresh sugar cookies straight from Karenâs oven.
She paced across the room, hoping that she was having a nightmare and the movement would make her wake up. But when she finally stopped and looked at her dad, any hope that she was dreaming disappeared like water down a drain.
For what felt like hours, she simply stood searching for something to say. But what did you say when your father admitted heâd killed your best friendâs mother?
âMom and I went to her funeral. Chloe clung to me and cried so hard I thought she would fall to pieces.â She shook her head slowly, her heart breaking in so many ways she couldnât count them all. âWhy didnât you come forward?â
âBecause I was scared, a coward. And we thought theyâd take you away from us.â
It took a few beats for Natalie to process all the information coming toward her like poison-tipped arrows. âWe?â Then the way her parents had exchanged that glance a few minutes before caused a lump to form in her throat. âMom knew? Oh, my God. She knew and she still walked into that funeral home and hugged Karenâs kids.â
Her stomach churned so violently she was afraid she was going to vomit.
âWe were so scared. We couldnât lose you and your sisters.â
âChloe, Owen and Garrett lost their mother!â
A sob shook her fatherâs failing body, and she did her best to rein in her anger.
âIf I could go back and do things differently, I would,â he said, his breath growing more labored. âIâd have gone to prison, but maybe you all would have been better off without me.â
Despite the anger and horror nearly choking her, the pure, unadulterated pain and sorrow she heard in his voice made her feel a sliver of compassion for him. This then was the reason he drank so much more after they moved to Kansas, to try to forget that heâd ended someoneâs life. To drown the guilt.
She wanted to set fire to every alcoholic beverage in the world and wipe the knowledge of how to make them from the memories of mankind.
âI want to make it right, but I need you to help me do that,â he said.
Suddenly so weak she felt as if she might collapse in a heap, she righted the overturned chair with a shaking hand and sank onto the seat again. âThereâs no way to make this right, Dad. Whatâs done is done.â
Even if they told the cops now, most likely they wouldnât even arrive until after her father had passed from this earth. Honestly, by the look of him, she was stunned heâd found the strength to voice his confession.
âI need for you to tell the Brodys the truth, tell them how very sorry I am. Your mother canât do it because they might come after her for knowing.â
She shook her head, unable to believe what he was asking her to do. âI canât. Itâll just reopen all the old wounds. It wonât bring Karen back.â
âBut theyâll have the answer to the question theyâve never been able to find.â
But would that be worse than never knowing?
Natalie dropped her head into her hands, feeling as if the entirety of her insides were being scalded raw. Gradually, the fact that her dadâs breathing was becoming even more labored registered, and she looked up to see tears still streaking out of his tired eyes. Though it was impossible, he seemed even smaller than when sheâd walked into the room.
Yes, she was angrier than she ever remembered being, but could she let her dad die without promising him that sheâd fulfill his dying wish? She knew it wasnât fair of him to ask it of her, and he likely knew it, too. But heâd carried the guilt with him for so long, and it had obviously eaten away at him every bit as much as the alcohol, probably more.
Though she had no idea how she would be able to face the Brodys with such a horrible truth, she found herself unable to let her father slip from the world with his heart so unbearably heavy.
âIâll tell them.â Sheâd figure out the how later.
The relief came off her father like a wave, and something felt profoundly right about what sheâd just given him. In her entire life, sheâd never witnessed such a deep desire to make amends.
Evidently no longer able to lift his hand, he pointed only one finger toward his nightstand. âThereâs a letter for them.â
Natalie opened the drawer to find an envelope addressed to the Brody family in his distinctive scrawl. She didnât have to look inside to know that it was his confession, the cleansing of his conscience before he died. She wondered how long the letter had occupied the drawer. He would have had to pen it some time ago since there was no way he could have managed it in recent days.
Though the envelope and the paper inside were no heavier than any other, she felt as if she held a terrible weight in her hand. She took a moment to inhale slowly then let the breath back out, fighting the dizziness that had decided to arrive to keep her nausea company. She tried to imagine what it must have been like to keep such a horrible secret for more than two decades, and the very idea threatened to make her even more ill. But at least her father hadnât taken the truth to his grave.
âI think itâs...â Her words faded away as she looked up at her dad. His last tears were still drying on his grizzled cheeks as the first of hers fell.
No matter what heâd done, he was her dad and she loved him.
And now he was gone.
The sadness of his loss joined with the terrible weight of his confession, and she suddenly and desperately needed a breath of fresh air that didnât smell like death and regret. She stood and walked slowly from the room, only dimly aware of her mother and sisters speaking to her as she headed for the front door.
As soon as she stepped outside and the clean air enveloped her, she stumbled, reminding her yet again of the coltâs shaky legs. The universe had a strange way of ensuring balance, constantly bringing a new life into the world at the same time it took another out.
As she looked up at the sky, she realized the clouds had given way to a blanket of stars. She gripped one of the porch supports as she thought about how the Brodys could be looking up at those same stars totally unaware that sheâd just promised to bring them an answer they might no longer want.
