her expression one of shock. “Of course not!”
“Then quit thinking about what might happen and focus on the facts. Jaime is your son. You gave birth to him, you raised him alone without help from Jesse or anyone else. Jesse had no place in his life other than planting a seed.”
“But what if he takes me to court? What if he tries to establish his parental rights?”
Merideth tossed up her hands in frustration. “And what judge in the country would settle those rights on him?” She grabbed Mandy’s hands and squeezed them between her own. “He’s your son, Mandy. Not Jesse’s.”
Mandy clung to the lifeline Merideth offered. “I know that. I do. But if he finds out—?”
Merideth squeezed her hands, silencing her. “Come back to New York with me. You and Jaime can stay with me until the dust settles and we see what Jesse’s intentions are.”
Slowly Mandy squared her shoulders, pulling her hands from Merideth’s. “No. That would be running from trouble. And no McCloud ever runs from trouble.”
Tossing back her head, Merideth laughed, the melodious sound filling what once had been Lucas McCloud’s office. “That’s my girl! I knew you had it in you.”
Mandy frowned, eyeing Merideth suspiciously, realizing too late that Merideth’s taunts were all an act to make her sister see reason. “You’re a brat, you know that, don’t you?” Mandy grumbled. “You always were.”
Merideth fluffed her hair with a playful, self-satisfied grin. “That’s what they tell me,” she said proudly and moved to flop down on the leather sofa that faced the desk.
Mandy continued to frown at Merideth, but Merideth merely folded her hands behind her head and preened, proud of her accomplishment. She crossed her bare feet at the ankles, wiggling toes painted a garish red before adding, “And don’t worry. I’ll stick around for a while just in case you need reminding that you’re a McCloud.”
Mandy’s brows shot up. “You can’t do that. You’ve got to get back to New York and your job!”
Merideth lifted a shoulder in a careless shrug. “It’ll be there when I get back,” she replied, confident of her importance to the soap opera she starred in.
“You don’t need to stay,” Sam interjected, stepping forward to hook a hip on the corner of the desk. “I’ll be here as backup if Mandy needs me.”
Merideth arched a brow, turning her gaze on Sam. Slowly, her lips curved in a proud smile. “I’d forgotten that the newly graduated and highly competent Dr. Samantha McCloud was setting up her veterinary practice on the Double-Cross.” She lifted her hands, diamonds glittering, and let them drop. “Well, then I guess my services aren’t needed.” She turned to Mandy. “You’ll be in good hands with Sam to look out for you and I’m only a telephone call away.” Lazily she stood, stretching her arms above her head with catlike grace before moving to gather her two sisters into a loose embrace. After hugging them both, she stepped back and thrust out a hand, palm up. “One for all and all for one,” she challenged. “The Three Musketeers.”
Laughing, Sam and Mandy each slapped a hand on top of Merideth’s. “Always,” they echoed in unison.
Jesse made the turn off the highway and passed below the wrought-iron archway that marked the entrance to the Circle Bar and headed for the house. The Big House. That was how the Barrister home was referred to by those who lived and worked on the Circle Bar.
Though he’d thought himself immune to the past, Jesse could feel the muscles of his stomach tightening while beads of sweat broke out on his upper lip. With a muttered curse of self-condemnation, he dragged his wrist beneath his nose and glared through the windshield at the road ahead. He took his foot off the accelerator and eased on the brake, bringing the truck to a stop at the crest of the hill that overlooked the valley.
Spotlighted by a brilliant summer sun, the two-story Georgian-style mansion below him looked as out of place as Jesse had always felt while living on the Circle Bar. Instead of the carefully groomed lawns with drooping magnolias and oaks heavy with moss that one would expect surrounding such a structure, the home was bordered by pastures of grazing Hereford cattle and hills covered with rock, cedar and cactus.
Margo Barrister might have lost the war when she’d failed to persuade Wade Barrister to move to Atlanta after their marriage more than forty years before, but she’d won a battle by haranguing him until he’d finally torn down the original Barrister homestead and replaced it with this monstrosity, a testament to Margo Barrister’s roots in the more genteel south.
The thought of Margo pushed a scowl across Jesse’s face. Mrs. Barrister. That’s what she’d insisted that he call her. Not Mother—God forbid that she ever admit that he was Wade’s son—not even Margo. She’d accept nothing less than impersonal formality from him.
Hate curled in his stomach like a doubled-up fist at the memory. He’d never called her “Mrs. Barrister” as she demanded. He’d never referred to her in any way at all. It had been easy enough to avoid, since she’d refused him entrance in her home from the day of his arrival on the Circle Bar.
His frown deepened as he remembered that day. Margo had screamed obscenities, ranted and raved when Wade had brought his fourteen-year-old bastard home with him. She had refused to allow Jesse even to cross the threshold, demanding instead that Wade take him to the bunkhouse to live with the wranglers who worked the Circle Bar. And that’s exactly where Jesse had lived until the night he’d left the Circle Bar, and Texas, almost thirteen years before.
No, avoiding Margo had been easy.
But this confrontation, the one awaiting him in the valley below, he knew he couldn’t avoid. Shaking off the unpleasant memories, he shifted back into gear, eased off the clutch and started downward to the Big House.
Through the gleaming windows of her formal living room, Margo caught a glimpse of a cloud of dust swirling over the hill. Stiffening, she slowly placed on the table the vase of flowers she’d just arranged and moved to peer out of the window. Pulling back the silk draperies, she craned for a better view.
“Damn,” she swore under her breath. Though she didn’t recognize the black truck that kicked up the cloud of dust, she knew who rode inside. Jesse. He was back to claim his inheritance.
Her lips quivered in silent rage. He was back to claim the Circle Bar. Wade had left her the house when he’d died, but not the land it stood on. He’d left that to the son of that Mexican whore of his! That Wade would dare to insult her so publicly, to flaunt his bastard child for all the world to see, to strip her of the very land, the dynasty that opened doors for her in Austin society, made her see red.
She placed a hand against her heart, forcing herself to take a deep calming breath. It wouldn’t do for Jesse to read her disgust, her anger...her desperation. She needed him, whether she cared to admit it or not. She didn’t know what his plans were. Not yet, at any rate. He had made no contact with her since Wade’s lawyer had notified him of Wade’s death and of his subsequent inheritance.
Would he sell the Circle Bar? she wondered fleetingly. Or would he move back and work the place himself as Wade had wanted? Her stomach convulsed. The very thought of having to watch that miserable bastard walk her land was too appalling even to consider. She hoped he planned
