Читать книгу Longwalker's Child - Debra Webb - Страница 11

Time crawled at a snail’s pace for Gray. Three days had passed since he had arrived in town…since he had seen Sarah. He had been in Thatcher only seventy-two hours and it felt like a year.

He hated this god-awful place. Sarah was the only reason he had come back. Yesterday afternoon he had driven to Dallas and parted with the required samples for the DNA test. He supposed that Lauren had taken Sarah, as well. But, of course, he had no way of knowing because no one told him anything.

Gray blew out a disgusted breath as his surroundings came back into focus. He sat alone in the diner. The booth’s red vinyl seats were faded and cracked with age. Nothing had changed about the place. Same scarred counter. Same black-and-white tile floor, coated with years of wax and buffed to a high, slightly yellowed sheen. Booths and tables, some mismatched and all worn from decades of use, filled the surprisingly clean diner.

A waitress placed his breakfast in front of him, freshened his coffee and smiled flirtatiously. Gray nodded, but didn’t return the smile.

He knew what people thought of him in this town. He’d stopped caring long ago. The quick, nervous glances and periodic murmuring told him that, like the diner’s decorating scheme, the people hadn’t changed, either.

Gray stared at the bacon, eggs and toast on his plate with complete disinterest. He really wasn’t hungry. He hadn’t been for days.

Not since he had seen his child…Sarah.

Gray closed his eyes and envisioned the little girl. His heart squeezed in his chest. When he’d first learned of her existence, he had tried to imagine what she looked like but hadn’t been able to put a mental image with his expectations.

Now he knew.

He opened his eyes and surveyed the small crowd in the diner. These people knew Sarah was his daughter, as well—they would have to be blind not to know. Mrs. Jennings had known.

Had anyone in this pathetic excuse for a town ever treated Sarah as they had treated him? Anger rose with such swiftness that he balled his fists.

Gray forced back the anger, shuddering with the effort. He would not allow it to consume him. He picked up his fork and stabbed at the food. His stomach turned. He couldn’t eat. Even the invitation for dinner at the Jennings ranch held no appeal for him. The fork clattered against the heavy white plate, earning Gray another round of suspicious looks and renewed murmuring.

Gray clenched his jaw and met each look with a fierce stare of his own. Let them say something, he mused. His fingers itched for an excuse—any excuse—to pound someone senseless.

He dragged in a long, deep breath and forced his attention to the wall of windows and the street outside. The last thing he needed was a fight. The law in this town would love an excuse to send him packing, or worse.

Gray hadn’t been in a brawl in more than four years. He walked away from conflict now. He had made peace with himself, if no one else. He had chosen his path and never looked back. There hadn’t been any reason to look back, until now.

The idea that his blood ran through that little girl’s veins shifted something—some sort of balance—deep inside him. Gray didn’t quite understand the feeling. He didn’t exactly love Sarah…. How could he? He didn’t even know her. The sensation was something much more primal than love. A sense of responsibility or protectiveness maybe.

Whatever it was, it grew with each breath he took.

When he had tucked Sarah into bed the other night, he had sat on the floor for a long while and watched her sleep. He had never before experienced such a driving desire to possess something. He wanted this child. His child.

Gray pushed his plate away and finished off his coffee. He hadn’t heard anything from Lauren Whitmore’s attorney other than the time and place for the lab appointment. Davis had until five o’clock today to contact Gray, after that his own attorney would start legal proceedings. He would not waste any more time waiting or analyzing Mrs. Jennings’s comment about someone else having an interest in Sarah. No one would keep him from claiming his daughter.

Gray had stayed away from Lauren since the episode on Monday night. He had struggled ever since with guilt he shouldn’t even be feeling. He didn’t know much about headaches, other than he’d had his share, but he had never seen anyone suffer the way Lauren had. But he had to set his sympathy aside. Lauren Whitmore was an obstacle he intended to remove from his path—one way or another.

Gray stood, ignoring the wary looks his every move earned him. He dropped the cash on the table for his meal and headed for the door. He’d had about all the Thatcher social life he could stand for one morning.

A bell jingled as he pushed the door open and stepped outside. Gray closed his eyes and raised his face to the warmth the sun offered against the cool March wind. He drew in a deep breath, settled his hat on his head and wondered how he could occupy himself today. He had visited a few of his old haunts the last couple of nights. What little night life Thatcher had to offer hadn’t changed much since he left, either.

Maybe he would go out to Manning’s ranch and take a look at that stallion the old man was having such a hard time with. He had heard the stories at the tavern last night about the demon horse Manning owned. The animal had injured the half dozen or so men who had tried to work with him already. Gray had a gut feeling that the horse had probably paid dearly for his rebellion, and that bothered him far more than what the men who had tried to break him had suffered.

Gray walked in the direction of the hotel where he had taken a room and left his truck. Thatcher was always quiet at this time of the morning. The kids were in school, and most of the other folks were at work, except those who made a career out of hanging out in Sid’s Diner or Dilbert’s General Store.

The same old storefronts lined the sidewalk, with only a fresh coat of paint here and there to mark any progress. The wind slashed down the straight line called Main Street that cut smack through the middle of the two-horse town.

Gray shook his head in disgust. Thatcher only reminded him of the things he had worked hard to forget. The longer he stayed the harder it became to maintain the discipline he had struggled to achieve.

A mane of blond hair fluttering in the wind caught Gray’s eye. His gaze traveled the length of the female whose back was turned to him. His attention riveted to the firm, round derriere encased in snug-fitting jeans. Maybe there was a thing or two in this town worth a second look. The sound of the woman’s almost musical voice wafted to his ears. Gray stopped dead in his tracks. Every muscle in his body tensed.

Lauren Whitmore.

Gray headed in her direction. No time like the present to find out just what was going on with the visitation arrangements. He had no intention of taking no for an answer.

Lauren shifted, providing an unobstructed view of the man who had her attention.

Gray’s step faltered, and his gut clenched. His fingers curled into tight fists.

James Buckmaster, Jr. Buck.

Gray swore hotly. The very sight of the man resurrected a lifetime of bone-deep hatred. Gray set his jaw hard against a long string of vulgarities lined up on the tip of his tongue.

The annoyingly pleasant sound of Lauren Whitmore’s laughter floated across the breeze. Buck smiled and leaned down to drop a kiss on her waiting cheek.

Something inside Gray broke lose and threatened to explode. Rage like he had not allowed himself to feel in a very long time washed over him.

Whether Lauren Whitmore knew it or not, the stakes had just been upped.

LAUREN MANAGED a polite but strained smile for Buck. The man was incorrigible. No matter how often she said no he still asked again. Would he never get the message? She just wasn’t interested in resuming their relationship. She would never allow herself to fall in love again, and a loveless marriage held no appeal whatsoever. Besides, her plate was full with taking care of Sarah and work. Frank had faxed her two more designs for which he wanted immediate changes. Rosemary could do many things for Lauren, but architectural design wasn’t among her talents. She was way behind schedule.

“It’s just a fund-raiser, sugar,” Buck persisted with a charming smile. “You remember last month when the Conroy place burned?”

“Of course I remember. Elly, their youngest, is in Sarah’s kindergarten class.” How could she forget such a horrible event? Though no one had been injured, the family had lost everything.

“Then how can you say no to such a good cause?”

Lauren sighed. How could she say no? But how did she get the point across to the man that he was barking up the wrong tree? She had nothing to offer him.

“Okay, Buck. I’ll go to the dance with you.” She relented, faced with the alternative of having him suggest a cozy dinner for two or, worse, a night out at the movies. He wasn’t going to let it go with her usual brush-off.

“Well, gosh, Lauren.” He pushed his wide-brimmed hat a little farther up his forehead and set one hand on his hip. “Don’t make it sound so bad.”

“Personally, I can’t think of anything worse.”

Lauren whirled at the sound of Gray Longwalker’s smoky voice. She found herself face-to-face with his tall, muscular frame. His cool gray eyes fixed on hers and her heart stumbled. A slow heat simmered inside her when his gaze slid slowly down her body. Nerves, she decided. The man made her seriously nervous. His full lips tightened into a grim line as if he disapproved of what he’d found.

“Mr. Longwalker,” she managed despite the sudden dryness in her throat.

The wind shifted his long raven-black hair over those impossibly broad shoulders. When his gaze met hers again, Lauren saw the faintest flicker of something akin to desire, but it vanished so quickly that she thought she must have imagined it. She had to have imagined it.

“Well, well,” Buck piped up, an edge in his voice.

“I’d heard you were back in town, Longwalker.”

Gray shifted his intimidating attention from Lauren to Buck. Barely checked anger sent a warning. Buck reacted instantly. Only the slightest change in his posture, but Lauren noticed.

“And no welcome-home party?” Gray returned haughtily.

Lauren stepped back from the anger generated by both men. Whatever the story with these two, it wasn’t good. Maybe if she just walked away neither would notice.

“Why, heck, Longwalker, me and the boys heard you were dead.”

An evil gleam sprang to life in Buck’s eyes taking Lauren by surprise. She had never seen this slightly sinister side of him. He had always come off as the good-old boy type to her—easygoing and happy-go-lucky. But his complete dislike, if not total hatred, for Gray Longwalker was more than obvious.

Gray cocked one dark brow. His stance remained relaxed and confident despite Buck’s fierce glare. His mouth curled into a contemptuous half smile. “Wishful thinking, eh?”

Buck laughed, but the sound held no trace of amusement. “Yeah, maybe so.”

Lauren retreated another step. The tension was too thick for comfort. She didn’t need to hear this, and she certainly didn’t want a confrontation with Gray Longwalker. It had taken her forty-eight hours to recover from his last visit.

Dr. Prescott had chastised her repeatedly for not taking care of herself above all else. Take your medication, Lauren. Don’t let the stress get to you, he had said.

Easy for him to say, Lauren mused. He didn’t have Gray Longwalker to worry about. Or Buck Buckmaster for that matter. She knew if Gray gave her a hard time, Buck would react with his usual “this one’s mine” mentality.

“I’ll pick you up at seven, Lauren.”

Startled, Lauren jerked to attention. She had lost the thread of conversation in her attempt to escape. “Sure, Buck, that’ll be fine.”

His usual pleasant smile slid back into place and he acknowledged her acceptance with a tip of his hat.

Gray continued his lethal stare long after Buck had turned and walked away. Lauren didn’t think she had ever seen that much hatred in a man’s eyes, not even in Buck’s just moments ago.

Seeing her chance, she swung around and started in the other direction. This was one encounter she had every intention of avoiding.

“In case no one’s told you, that man is a snake.”

His words brought her up short. “Excuse me?”

Gray closed the distance between them in two long strides. When he stopped, he was too close. Lauren looked up into his steely gray eyes. Way too close.

“Buckmaster is a low-life bloodsucker who would sell his own mother if the price was right.”

“Buck’s mother died two years ago, Mr. Longwalker,” Lauren said curtly, though she had no idea why she felt compelled to stick up for Buck. He was certainly capable of taking up for himself. “Not to mention that his father died just three months ago.”

“I guess we’re even then,” he said without remorse.

Lauren shook her head in disbelief. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Appalled, she wondered how anyone could be so callous.

“You wouldn’t understand,” he assured her.

“I’m sure I wouldn’t. If you’ll excuse me, Mr. Longwalker, I have things to do.”

His hand was on her arm before she took her next step. Gray swung her back around to face him, his hold restraining but not overly forceful.

“Let go of me,” Lauren insisted, scanning the sidewalk in both directions. The last thing she wanted to do was give the gossipmongers anything to talk about. She could imagine the curious faces pressed against the glass in the shops on either side of the street.