Free The Marriage Pact (Hqn) by Linda Lael Miller Page A

sooner.”
    Tripp, standing at the long row of windows now, his back to Jim, watched Ridley gamboling around the side yard, evidently chasing a bug. “You think?” he snapped.
    The coffee, strong and black the way he liked it, must have rallied Jim considerably, because he sounded almost like his old self when he replied lightly, “Then again, I might have been right to hold my tongue, after all. I figured you’d get your britches in a twist once you knew, no matter when you found out, or how, as far as that goes.”
    Shaking his head, Tripp turned from the windows. “You’re the only father I’ve got,” he said, calmer now—or maybe just spent. The day had been a long one, after all. He’d been shaken by the encounter with Hadleigh and now...this. “So, yeah, I’d have freaked out in any case. ThenI would have stepped up and done what needed doing on this ranch, so you could concentrate on getting well.”
    Jim was looking away, probably because his eyes were misty again, and he considered Tripp’s words in solemn silence before offering a concession—of sorts. “I reckon we’ve both got a point.” He blinked a couple of times, then faced his son. “You had a right to know, and I had a right to keep my own counsel. I guess we’ve just been coming at things from different directions.” A pause. “What do you say we meet someplace in the middle?”
    Tripp nodded, gulped once, got out a hoarse “Fair enough.”
    “Well, then,” Jim decreed with obvious relief, “that’s settled.” He levered himself to his feet. “Now, if you can see your way clear to feeding the horses, I’ll see what I can do to rustle us up some supper.”
    Once more, Tripp nodded. There was no point in pursuing the subject any further, not that night, anyway.
    So, grimly silent, he helped himself to Jim’s denim jacket, found hanging in its usual place on one of the pegs beside the back door, shrugged into it, straightened the collar.
    They still had issues, father and son, but in time, they’d come to terms, hammer out some kind of mutual understanding.
    But time wasn’t a fixed commodity, was it? One minute, a person was there, living and breathing. The next, he or she could be gone for good.
    Time. Let there be enough of it.
    Resigned, Tripp left the house, crossed the back porch and descended the somewhat rickety steps to the yard. Ridley stopped exploring the flower beds and the base of the picket fence and trotted over to Tripp’s side. They both headed for the barn.
    The chores were familiar; Tripp could have done them in his sleep.
    With Ridley tagging after him, clearly curious about the huge nickering critters standing in the stalls, Tripp filled the feeders with good grass hay, made sure the outdated aluminum water troughs were topped off and paused to greet each of the six horses with a pat and a kindly word.
    Later, as he and the dog returned to the house, Tripp stared up at the night sky and watched as the first stars popped out.
    Maybe, he thought, things would turn out all right.
    In fact, he meant to see to it that they did.
    Jim would recover, Tripp assured himself. With more rest and less worry, he’d be his old ornery self in no time at all.
    As for making friends with Hadleigh...well, that would be a challenge, for sure and for certain.
    And Tripp Galloway loved a challenge.
    * * *
    M ELODY WAS THE first to arrive at Hadleigh’s place that evening, looking rushed and windblown, even though she wasn’t late. She’d buttoned up her black tailored coat without bothering to free her shoulder-length blond hair from under the collar, the strap of her shoulder bag was across her chest and the supermarket deli tray—cheese and cold cuts—shook slightly as she held it out to her hostess with ungloved hands.
    “You’ve heard,” she concluded after studying Hadleigh’s face for a moment.
    Hadleigh took the tray from her friend, set it on the nearest counter and nodded glumly, there being no earthly reason