He pulled her hands away and turned. “It’s not a joke,” he said quietly. “I married Abby Grayson Monday morning.”
“Oh, my God.” She lifted a hand to her mouth and took a step back, her eyes searching his face. “You’re serious, aren’t you? Why? Why would you do that to us?”
Agony shimmered in the air around him. Agony and guilt. “I had no choice, Diane. She’s pregnant with my baby.” He could barely force the words out.
“Oh, God.” Laughter bubbled out of her again, but this time it had an edge of hysteria. “That little whore came running to you to with a sob story the first time my back was turned and you believed her! Even if she is pregnant, what makes you think it’s yours?” She held a hand out pleadingly. “It’s not too late. You can still get a divorce. You aren’t responsible for someone else’s bastard, Tate.”
He squeezed his eyes shut against the pain, then made himself look at her. “No matter what you’ve heard, Abby isn’t a whore. She is pregnant and I’m the only one who could be the father.”
Diane’s face paled under her tan. “You bastard,” she whispered. “You slept with her. How could you sleep with her while you were engaged to me?” Her voice was rising with each word. “What happened to all that damn honor and responsibility you’re always preaching to me?”
“You don’t understand. I was drunk. It was the night we argued about Clayton Caldwell. I didn’t even know what I was doing until it was too late. It only happened one time.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I swear. Just one time. We even have separate rooms at the house.”
“Do you think that matters? So what’s the plan here, ‘Mr. High and Mighty’ Tate McCullom? Do you think you can wait until after the baby is born and then come running back to me, expecting me to raise it for you? If you do, you can think again. I’m not going to raise your bastard.”
Anger greater than the pain he felt, hit Tate. “Don’t worry. You won’t get the chance. I may not be perfect but at least I’m doing my best to rectify my mistake. How many men have you slept with? Ten? A dozen? It’s okay for you, but not for me? What’s the difference between us, Diane?”
“Goddamn you, the difference is that I’m not stupid enough to get pregnant! No man is ever going to catch me in that trap.” Suddenly she smiled and the icy glitter in her eyes sent chills down Tate’s back.
“You want to know how many men I’ve slept with, Tate? Hundreds. And they all had one thing in common. Every single one of them was twice the man you are. You want to know why I cut my trip short? Because Clayton was called back on business. Compared to him, you’re boring, Tate. In bed and out. The little whore is welcome to you. Now get out of my house.”
* * * * *
Abby opened her eyes to darkness and lay still, listening intently. Something had awoken her, but what? She turned her head to one side and glanced at the alarm clock she kept next to the bed. It was almost one. She hadn’t gone to sleep until after eleven even though she’d been tired.
It had been obvious who Tate was talking to from the instant he’d answered the phone earlier this evening and, in spite of the fact that she’d tried not to care, she had found herself listening for the sound of his truck returning. She’d still been listening when she’d drifted off to sleep.
Even Buddy had fallen silent for a change, seemingly both worried and embarrassed. He’d escaped to his room at the first opportunity.
She was about to turn over and go back to sleep when the noise came again. This time it was closer, a loud thud that sounded like something heavy hitting the floor just down the hall.
Quietly, she threw the blankets back and slipped out of bed. Opening her door a tiny crack, she peered into the dim circle of light that filtered in from the window at one end of the hall.
“Tate!”
He was sitting on the floor, back braced against the wall outside his bedroom, head buried on his knees. He wasn’t moving.
Abby rushed down the hall and dropped beside him. “Tate, what is it? Are you sick?”
He didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to. The smell of whiskey was strong enough to make her wonder if he’d bathed in it. Her lips compressed into a thin line and she shook him.
At least that got a groan out of him.
“Come on, Tate. You can’t stay out here and I can’t carry you to bed. Can you walk?”
“Sick,” he mumbled.
“Yeah, I don’t doubt it. Smells like you wiped out Delly’s stock tonight.” She stood and pulled at his arm. “I’ll help you, but you’re going to have to try.”
Moving with great care, he put his arm around her shoulders and levered himself up the wall. When he pushed away from the support, Abby almost staggered from the burden of his weight, but she managed to get the door of his room open.
They wove a path to the bed and it was only with Abby’s help that he actually hit it when he collapsed.
“I think I may throw up.”
“It could only help,” Abby mumbled under her breath, shoving the waste can from next to the bed into his hands. “There, try to at least hit it.”
She had one of his boots off and was working on the other one when he twisted violently and stuck his head in the can. With a sigh, she dropped the boot and went to the bathroom, returning with several wet cloths.
He’d already put the can on the floor and was lying back limply. Abby wiped his sweat-coated face with one cloth and left the other across his forehead. She thought he’d passed out, but when she started to leave, he grabbed her hand.
“I’m sorry, Abby.”
“Just go to sleep, Tate. That’s the only thing that’s going to help.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Oh, but I do,” she said wearily. “Only too well.” She pulled her hand away from him. “There’s nothing left to say.”
Chapter Eleven
“Hey there, Squirt. Whatcha drinkin’? Beer?”
“Come on, Joe. You know Tate would kill me if he caught me drinking.” Buddy leaned against the fence next to his brother’s best friend. “Its just lemonade.”
“Is that why you’re looking so glum? Can’t say as I blame you. If I had to drink that stuff I’d probably shoot myself.”
“It’s not that bad.” He shifted a little, his gaze sweeping the crowd of people milling under the trees in the backyard.
“So what’s the problem? You look like someone killed your favorite hunting dog.”
Buddy hesitated, then sighed. “Tate and Abby.” He shook his head. “It’s kind of hard to explain. You know, when he first brought her home, I was kind of hoping that maybe things would be different for him. I mean, yeah, they barely talked to each other, but that was starting to change. Especially after Abby went to the doctor. Seemed like all they could do was talk about the baby. It was starting to get disgusting.”
Joe grinned at him. “Sounds to me like they’re getting along fine.”
“They were. Until Thursday evening.”
Joe tilted his hat back and propped his foot on the lower fence rail. “What happened Thursday?”
“Diane called.”
“Well, hell. I thought she was gone for two weeks?”
“I guess she came back early.”
“Damn. I was hoping they’d have more time together before the bi—” He cut the word off and glanced at Buddy. “What did Tate do?”
“He just walked out. Didn’t get home until almost one the next morning and he was falling-down drunk.” Buddy hooked his elbows over the rail. “You know how Tate is about drinking. The only other time I’ve ever seen him in that shape before was because of her.”
“Yeah, I know. But I guess sometimes it feels like the only way to ease the pain is to drown it. She must have really tore into him. Does Abby know?”
“She knows. I got up to see what was going on and she was helping him into bed. I don’t think they’ve said a word to each other since then. Abby must have stayed in her room all day yesterday. She didn?
??t even cook supper. This is the first time I’ve seen her since then.” He tilted his head at Abby. She was standing with a group of women at one end of the long table, wearing the same dress she’d gotten married in. Buddy suspected it was the only one she had. Tate was all the way across the yard, talking to a group of men, but his gaze kept drifting to Abby.
“Well, I guess that explains why Tate looks like death warmed over.” Suddenly Joe gave Buddy a piercing stare. “Did you say Abby stayed in her own room? They aren’t sleeping together?”
“No. Tate’s still in his old room. Abby is in Mom and Dad’s.”
“Well, hell. That’s not good. Not good at all. I sure was hoping that Tate had finally got rid of Diane, but it looks like she may still have her claws in him.” He straightened and pulled the brim of his hat back down. “Squirt, we may just have to save him from himself, and from Diane too.”
Buddy’s expression changed to one of alarm. “You don’t think Diane would show up here, do you?”
“It wouldn’t surprise me. She’s had Tate jumping like frog legs in hot grease for years. I can’t see her letting go easy now. Maybe I’ll just send a couple of the boys down to the main road to make sure she don’t get in.”
“I don’t know about this, Joe. If Tate really loves Diane maybe we shouldn’t interfere. It’s his life, after all.”
“Love her?” Joe scoffed. “Hell, boy, he don’t love her. He’s just so damn used to taking care of her that he can’t tell the difference. You know how Tate is. He’s so hung up on responsibility that he never stops to think he might be doing more harm than good.” He turned his head to gaze at Tate.
“Just take a look at that. He can’t keep his eyes off Abby. And she sure as hell didn’t get pregnant all by herself. Whether Tate realizes it or not, there’s something going on there. He just needs time to figure that out for himself and we’re going to give it to him.”
Buddy gazed at his brother raptly. Maybe Joe was right. And he sure didn’t relish the idea of having Diane as a member of the family. “What can we do, though?”
“Well, for starters, we can get them alone together for a while. That way they’ll have to talk to each other. Tate’s been trying real hard to talk everybody out of this chivaree tonight. I was sort of leaning in his direction, but now I think it’s a damn fine idea. And we’re going to have to do our best to keep Diane away from him.”
He took a step away from the fence, then stopped. “I’m gonna get some of the boys headed down to the road. You start spreading the word that the chivaree is still on no matter what Tate says.”
“You know if he finds out about this, he’s gonna kill us?”
“Let him.” Joe grinned. “He’ll thank us later. That God-nephew of mine is gonna need his momma and daddy both. I aim to see he gets them.”
“Niece!” Buddy yelled at his retreating back.
“Nephew,” Joe retorted without slowing and Buddy laughed.
* * * * *
Tate picked desultorily at the food on his plate, his gaze fixed on Abby. She’d been smiling and talking all evening long as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Talking to everyone but him, anyway. She was avoiding him like the plague. Not that he blamed her. If he were in her place, he probably wouldn’t be talking to him either.
Buddy dropped into the chair beside him and lifted a chicken leg off his plate.
“Help yourself.” He arched an eyebrow at his little brother.
“It’s not like you were gonna eat it,” Buddy mumbled around a mouthful.
He did have a point. Tate shoved the plate in front of him. “You may as well finish it off.”
Buddy dug in. “You and Abby in a race to see who can starve to death first?”
“She’s not eating?” Tate swung to look at her again, his gaze worried.
“Nope. Not a bite all evening.”
“She needs to eat.”
“Don’t worry about it. Hank’s been trying to cram food into her for hours. Sooner or later she’ll wear Abby down.”
Even as he watched, Hank stopped in front of Abby with a plate piled high and led her to a chair. Abby was shaking her head, but Hank wasn’t taking no for an answer. She stood there like a calico-covered mountain until Abby took a bite.
Tate nodded in satisfaction. “Good.” He glanced back at Buddy. “What were you and Joe talking about earlier?”
Buddy coughed. “Babies.”
“Babies.” Tate eyed him suspiciously.
“Yeah. He thinks it’s going to be a boy, I think it’s a girl. Wonder if I could get him to put his money where his mouth is?”
Joe was standing near the amateur band that had started playing several minutes ago, clapping his hands in time to the music. Puzzled, Tate looked around at the rest of the crowd.
“Why isn’t anyone dancing?”
Buddy looked disgusted. “Because they’re waiting on you, dolt. No one is going to dance until the bride and groom lead them off.”
“Shit. Do me a favor, will you? Tell everyone to go ahead. They don’t have to wait.”
“Nope.” Buddy shook his head. “Besides, it’s too late. I heard some of the guys talking a few minutes ago. If you don’t dance soon, they’re going to kidnap Abby and bring her to you. People are beginning to talk, Tate. This party is for the two of you and you haven’t been within spitting distance of her all evening long.”
“Well, hell.” Unconsciously, he uttered Joe’s favorite phrase. Abby was still sitting where Hank had left her, but she’d stopped eating as soon as the older woman’s back was turned. “I guess I might as well get it over with.”
He stood and walked toward Abby, feeling as though a thousand eyes were boring into his back. She looked up when he stopped next to her. “Dance with me?”
She hesitated then shook her head. “Thanks, but I’d rather not.”
“You have to, Abby.” He kept his voice low enough that the people around them wouldn’t be able to hear. “No one else will dance until we do. It’s a tradition. If we don’t do it voluntarily, they’ll try to force us into it.” He held out his hand. “Please?”
She glanced around at the people watching them, then sighed and took his hand. “Okay. But just this once.”
As soon as they reached the area set aside for dancing, the band started playing a slow song and there were whistles and cheers from the bystanders. Tate put his arms around her and they began to move in time to the music. They’d only taken a few steps when Abby stumbled. He caught her, pulling her even closer against him.
“Sorry.” Her face was pink. “I’ve never really danced with anyone before.”
“You’re doing fine.” He gazed down at her, but Abby seemed determined to look at anything except him.
“You look nice tonight.”
“Thank you. So do you.”
Her answer had the feel of a much-repeated phrase and Tate sighed. It was apparent that conversation wasn’t on her agenda. He decided to give it one more try.
“I think I might have talked the boys out of the chivaree.”
She finally looked up at him, her dark eyes meeting his. “Really? That’s good.” Her gaze went back to the crowd.
Tate was beginning to wonder if maybe he hadn’t made a mistake in talking folks out of the chivaree. Abby obviously wasn’t going to give him a chance to talk to her unless she was forced into it.
The torturous dance finally came to an end and Tate led her away from the people surging to take their place. As soon as they were clear, Abby pulled her hand from his and moved off through the crowd.
“Well, Hoss, that was about the sorriest excuse for a dance I’ve ever seen. Had about as much enthusiasm as a cow at a meat grinding factory.”
Tate glared at Joe. “What were you expecting? A clog?”
His friend chuckled. “At least that would have been more entertaining. Been a while since I’ve seen you fall on your face.”
“Yeah, well, stick around. Seems to be happen
ing a lot lately.”
“That bad, huh?” He slapped Tate on the back. “Tell you what. Reilly’s got a couple of bottles stashed behind the house where the womenfolk can’t see them. What say we sneak off and have a nip?”
Tate’s stomach roiled violently at the very thought and he grimaced. “No, thanks. I’m never gonna touch another drop of liquor as long as I live.”
“Well, suit yourself.” He started toward the back of the house when Tate stopped him.
“Hey, Joe?”
“Yeah?” His friend turned around but continued walking backwards.
“I’ve been thinking. Maybe we shouldn’t call the chivaree off after all. Tradition and all that, you know.”
Joe grinned at him. “Don’t worry, Hoss. It never was called off to start with.” His laughter followed him into the darkness.
“Well, hell,” Tate commented to no one in particular.
* * * * *
Abby looked up sharply at the first clang of metal on metal. “What was that?” she asked the woman beside her. Suddenly she was surrounded by a laughing throng of women.
“Now, don’t you worry, sugar. Just the chivaree startin’ is all,” Hank told her as someone began beating on a pot with a wooden spoon. “You come along with us now and we’ll get you all fixed up.”
“No, wait.” Abby tried desperately to stop their forward motion. “There’s been a mistake. It was called off.”
Hank’s huge belly shook when she laughed. “Why sugar, every gal deserves a proper send-off. You didn’t really think we’d slight you, now did you?”
Abby’s frantic gaze swept the yard as she was half-carried, half-pushed onto the front porch. She caught the barest glimpse of Tate before he was surrounded by a similar mass of men. Pandemonium was breaking out everywhere and the noise was deafening.
The women didn’t stop until they were in the bedroom, jostling each other for space. Before Abby was even aware of what they were doing, she was stripped naked.