Creed's Honor (18 page)

“Get the best deal you can,” she told Carla.

“Leave it to me,” Carla said. Very briefly, she outlined her plan to contact both buyers’ representatives and explain the situation. “I’ll get back to you as soon as I know anything more.”

When the conversation was over, Tricia was slow to hang up.

“I guess that wasn’t my mom calling,” Sasha said, approaching Tricia to perch on the arm of her chair and slip an arm around her shoulders.

“No,” Tricia said. “It wasn’t your mom.”

“Is something wrong?” Sasha asked, in a small voice, looking worried. “You’d tell me if something happened to my mom and dad, wouldn’t you? If their plane went down or they got into a really bad car crash, like Princess Diana did?”

“They’re
fine,
” Tricia told the child, pulling her onto her lap and hugging her tightly. “That call was from my real-estate agent, Carla Perkins. The news is good, kiddo. Somebody—
two somebodies
, actually—wants to buy the properties my dad left me.”

“Then how come you look like you’re going to cry?” Sasha asked. “Are you nostalgic, or sad?”

Tricia smiled, kissed the little girl’s forehead. “Nostalgic,” she said.

“Good,” Sasha said.

“Tell you what,” Tricia began. “We’ll run by the bank, you and me and Valentino, so I can make a deposit to my account, and then we’ll go home and make lunch. By then, I’ll bet we’ll have heard from your mom.”

Sasha smiled, slid off Tricia’s lap. “Grilled cheese sandwiches?” she asked. “They’re my favorite thing to have for lunch, and Natty likes them, too. She told me so.”

“Well, that settles it, then,” Tricia said. “Grilled cheese it is.”

C
ONNER HELD THE CORDLESS PHONE
away from his head for a moment, glared at it, and then pressed it to his ear again. “What do you mean, there’s another offer? Those properties have been for sale since Joe McCall died and now, all of a sudden, there’s a land rush?”

Conner’s lawyer, Mike Summerville, chuckled. “Somebody else wants the Bluebird Drive-in Movie-o-rama and that sorry, run-down excuse for a campground. Go figure.”

“Who?” Conner demanded.

“How should I know?” Mike retorted good-naturedly. “According to Ms. McCall’s real-estate agent, the other offer is solid, all cash, ready to go into escrow.”

Brody ambled into the kitchen, having slept in late enough to miss helping out with the chores. Some things just never changed.

Conner glared at his shirtless brother, who yawned, took a mug from a shelf and headed for the coffeemaker, paying him no mind at all.

Mike waited.

Conner glowered at Brody.

Brody grinned and raised his coffee mug in a smart-ass toast. “Cheers,” he said.

Mike cleared his throat. “Business is business, Conner,” he said. “Do you want to raise the offer you made, or let it ride?”

“I want you to find out who the competition is and what they plan on doing with that land, Mike,” Conner responded.

“What are
you
planning to do with it?” Mike countered. He was a friend of the family, having gone through law school with Steven, so he could ask questions like that and get away with it.

“Add it to the ranch, I guess,” Conner said. He’d made the offer for one reason and one reason only—so Tricia could leave town, if that was what she wanted, and go back to Seattle and the guy in the ski gear.

“For as long as I can remember,” Mike said, “the party line has been that the ranch is big enough already. Why make it bigger?”

“I just want to, that’s all,” Conner replied, still peevish.

Brody snickered, shook his head once, and took a slurp from his coffee mug. It would be nice if he’d at least
pretend
he wasn’t eavesdropping, Conner thought, but that was probably too much to ask.

“All right, all right,” Mike sighed. “I’ll try to find out who else is interested, and get back to you.”

“Fine,” Conner said. Then he bit out a testy “Goodbye” and hung up.

“Still mad because Joleen and I crashed the trail ride
yesterday?” Brody asked, with that damnable tilted grin of his.

“I never gave a rat’s ass in the first place,” Conner replied. “I believe I’ve already told you that.”

“Right,” Brody drawled.

“If you want to get under my hide, brother,” Conner challenged grimly, “you’re going to have to do a little better than that.”

Brody laughed. Nodded in the general direction of the phone. “You in the market for some real estate?” he asked, with a casualness that should have alerted Conner to what was coming, but didn’t.

“Maybe,” Conner said.

“I’ll outbid you,” Brody told him.

Conner, about to open the fridge and see if there was anything in there that could possibly be construed as lunch, froze in his tracks.

“What?” he asked.

“I want that land,” Brody said easily. “And I’m willing to pay for it.”

Conner narrowed his eyes. He could barely believe what he was hearing. “
You’re
the competition?”

Brody raised one hand to shoulder level, like he was swearing an oath. “That’s me,” he said.

“Now why the
hell
would a saddle bum like you want that land?”

Brody made a shruglike movement, all but imperceptible. “Maybe I’m tired of being a saddle bum,” he said. He was using that quiet voice again, the one that didn’t sound like it was really him talking. “I mean to bulldoze the whole thing—except for the trees, of course—and build myself a house overlooking the river. A barn, too.”

Conner gave a raspy laugh, without a trace of amusement in it. “Half of this place is legally yours,” he reminded his twin. “Remember?”

“And I feel about as welcome here as a case of whooping cough on a transatlantic flight,” Brody replied. He set his coffee aside and leaned back against the counter, folding his arms. “We’ll share the rangeland—if I’m going to run cattle, I’ll have to put them someplace. Otherwise, you can keep to your side of the river and I’ll keep to mine and that’ll be that.”

Conner opened his mouth. Closed it again. Shoved a hand through his hair. “You’re crazy,” he said, at length.

Again, Brody chuckled. “So I’m told,” he said. “But the prodigal son is home for good, little brother, and you’d better start getting used to the idea.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Conner snapped. He didn’t dare hope Brody meant to stay—it would hurt too damn bad when he changed his mind and took off again.

“Start believing,” Brody said. “Unless you slow things down by making a pissing match out of this, I’m going to buy that land, Conner. I’ll live in that chicken coop Joe McCall called a lodge until spring, and then I’ll start on the house and barn. I want something to leave to my kids when I die. A legacy, you might say.”

For a long moment, Conner just stared at his brother, at this confounding version of himself, and then he said, “
You
have kids?”

Brody laughed. “Not that I know of,” he replied. “But I’m capable of making some, when the time and the woman are right.”

“With Joleen?” Conner asked. In the next instant, he wished he’d bitten off his tongue first.

“I’ve already told you,” Brody said, serious again. “Joleen is just a friend. And frankly, I’m a little surprised at the way you keep bringing up her name. I would have sworn you were taken with Tricia McCall.”

Conner swallowed hard. Felt his neck go red and the blood pound under his cheekbones. “If that’s what you think,” he seethed, “why haven’t you made a move on her?”

Brody sighed. It was a heavy sound, and bleak.

Conner was almost convinced.

“You think I’d do a thing like that?” Brody asked. “I
know
you would,” Conner shot back, grabbing his jacket off the hook beside the back door. “From experience.”

“Conner—”

“Buy the land,” Conner broke in furiously. “Build your house and your barn and run all the cattle you want to, but, for once in your life, Brody, keep your word. Stay on your own side of the river.”

Brody raised both hands, palms out. The look in his eyes might have been pain. More likely, it was just good acting.

“Have it your way,” he said.

And Conner slammed out, got into his truck. His stomach rumbled, almost as loudly as the motor.

He’d get lunch in town, he decided.

“D
IANA?”
T
RICIA SAID
, smiling into the mouthpiece of her cell phone. She was standing in front of her kitchen stove in the apartment, making grilled cheese sandwiches for Sasha, Natty and herself.

“Hello!” Diana chimed. “How is my lovely child?”

“Lovely,” Tricia answered, with a fond glance at Sasha. She and Valentino were playing nearby, with the blue chicken Tricia had bought for the dog just after she got him.

“Did she tell you we found the perfect house—not a flat, mind you, but a
house?
It’s a five-minute walk from the nearest Metro stop, and the neighborhood is simply wonderful. There’s even a park across the street.”

“It sounds great,” Tricia said.

Diana was quiet for a few moments. “So much for wild enthusiasm on your part,” she said, sadly but gently.

“I’m going to miss all of you,” Tricia said. “But I’m happy for you. I truly am.”

“I know,” Diana responded. Then her voice brightened. “Listen, here’s the plan. Paul and I arrive in Seattle on Wednesday. You and Sasha can meet us there, and we’ll all have a grand old time together.”

“I have a dog now,” Tricia said, and then marveled at her own inanity. She’d been off-kilter ever since she’d found out about the offers for River’s Bend and the drive-in.

“Bring the dog, then,” Diana said.

“And a great-grandmother,” Tricia added.

Diana laughed. “Bring her, too.”

Tricia sighed. Dragging her great-grandmother onto an airplane was out of the question, and so was making Valentino ride in the cargo hold.

Her mind raced. Carolyn already had a housesitting job, but maybe she knew somebody who could come and stay in the apartment for a week or so, taking
care of Valentino and keeping an eye on Natty at the same time.

After all, the properties were as good as sold. There would be money soon, and plenty of it.

Shouldn’t she be looking at condos in Seattle? Checking out possible sites for her art gallery?

And, oh, yeah, maybe
seeing Hunter?

Strangely, the man had slipped her mind entirely.

“Tricia?” Diana asked.

“If I can find someone to take care of Valentino and look out for Natty while I’m away, I’ll come,” Tricia decided aloud. “If not, I suppose Sasha would be all right flying alone, the way she did on the way out here. Or I could accompany her to Seattle and then turn right around and come back home—”

“I thought
Seattle
was home,” Diana said.

Tricia bit her lip. “It is,” she said, but not right away.

Diana caught the hesitation, but she refrained from comment. “Text me if you can get a dog-and-grandmother sitter,” she said. “If necessary, either Paul or I will make a stop in Denver to connect with Sasha. We didn’t think we’d worry, letting her fly by herself, but we did.”

Tricia closed her eyes for a moment, realized the grilled cheese sandwiches were scorching, grabbed a pot holder and pushed the skillet off the burner. “I’ll text you as soon as I can,” she told her friend.

Sasha, having abandoned Valentino and the blue chicken, was already at her side. Her eyes glowed, and she was all but jumping up and down.

“Here’s your daughter,” Tricia said to Diana, and then she handed over the phone.

C
ONNER DROVE PAST
Natty McCall’s house three times, thinking up a new excuse for dropping in on every pass. He didn’t have wood to deliver, and Natty hadn’t called to say she was afraid the pipes might freeze.

Bottom line: He just wanted to see Tricia again.

Figure out some way to make up for the way he’d treated her the day before, on the trail ride. At least, that way, they could part friends.

Going around the block for the fourth time, he came up with an excuse, if not an explanation for behaving like a jerk out there on the range. Tricia had mentioned wanting to find a home for the dog, what’s-his-name. He’d had it up to here with living alone. If she hadn’t changed her mind in the meantime, he’d offer to take the critter in.

He parked the truck in front of Natty’s place, instead of pulling into the driveway as he usually did, and sat there for a minute, just to give himself a chance to think better of the idea and drive away. Silently, he rehearsed his speech about the dog.

Damn if he could think of any reason for yesterday’s rudeness, though. The truth—that he was attracted to Tricia and wanted a chance to see if that would go anywhere—was flat-out unsayable. And anything else would be a lie.

Finally, Conner shut off the truck, shoved open the door and got out. He’d bought himself a hamburger at the drive-through, and it felt like a fieldstone in his stomach. He tugged at one jacket cuff and then the other. Squared his shoulders and pointed himself toward the outside staircase. He made the climb fast, because with every step he wanted to turn around and flee before
anybody saw him playing the fool in Natty McCall’s front yard.

He knocked at the glass in Tricia’s door. Saw her and the little girl through the oval window; they were a pair of murky shapes, like they were underwater.

Tricia opened the door.

The smell of burned food roiled out and surrounded him.

“Conner,” she said, like he was the last person she’d expected—or
wanted
—to see. The dog appeared at her side, giving an uncertain woof and then sniffing at the leg of his jeans.

The animal’s name came back to him in that oddly disjointed moment.
Valentino.
That was way too fruity a handle for a cowboy’s dog. Maybe he’d call him Bill.

Slowly, Tricia stepped back out of the doorway, so Conner could come in.

“Hi, Conner,” Sasha chirped, from the table. “We were supposed to have grilled cheese for lunch, but Tricia wrecked the first batch, so we’re eating peanut butter and jelly instead. Want some?”