Page 4 of Calder Strong (The Calder Brand #5)

Joseph hadn’t known the man Annabeth married—she was a lively beauty and would’ve had her choice of suitors. Her clothes and her roughened hands told him she might not have chosen well. But that was none of his business. He could only hope that she was happy.

“I have to go. It was nice seeing you, Joseph.” She turned away, her child still clinging to her neck. The street swarmed with onlookers drawn by the near accident. She would have to push her way through.

“Let me help you back to the boardwalk.” He guided her with a touch at her elbow, his free arm parting the crowd. The little girl had stopped sniffling and was looking ahead. She raised her small, plump hand and began to wave.

“Mama, I see Daddy and Lucas! They’re by the store!” she warbled in her childish voice.

The boardwalk was clearing as people moved on. Waiting outside the general store was a tall man in jeans, a plaid shirt, and a straw Stetson that shadowed his face. Holding his hand was a boy who appeared to be about five years old.

Joseph’s gaze was drawn to the boy. Dressed in outgrown overalls, he was dark-haired and slender.

He looked nothing like the rosy, blond girl-child in Annabeth’s arms. Maybe he resembled his father.

But that was none of his concern, Joseph reminded himself.

Neither was the fact that the man waiting by the store had made no move to come and assist his wife.

Joseph guided Annabeth around a clump of horse manure. He would see her and her daughter safely to the boardwalk. Then he would get back to his car and be on his way.

The little girl was still waving. “Lucas!” she called. “I saw a puppy!”

The man had not moved from the spot. But a slight lift of his head revealed a chiseled face with sharp cheekbones, a slit of a mouth, and dark, piercing eyes—eyes that were looking straight at Joseph with cold, undisguised hatred.

Joseph’s family was well-known. He was used to being recognized. But not like this. Maybe the man knew about his past relationship with Annabeth. But that had ended years ago. It didn’t make sense that he’d be jealous.

Suddenly the boy—Lucas—broke free of his father’s hand, plunged into the crowded street, and made a beeline for his mother and sister. His face broke into a grin as he reached them.

“What are you doing, Lucas?” Annabeth scolded him, her face lowered. “Stay with your father. We’ll be right there.”

He tugged at her skirt. “Dad says we can have root beer. Come on, before he gets mad and changes his mind.”

Annabeth glanced up with a worried expression. “You can go, Joseph,” she said. “We’ll be fine now.”

“I’ll just—”

“No.” She cut him off, her voice thready with tension. “Just go, Joseph.”

“Who’s this man, Mama?” Lucas had turned toward Joseph. He was a handsome boy, long-limbed and athletic, with dark, curly hair and a sprinkling of freckles. Thick lashes veiled his eyes from above.

“He’s just a man who was helping us cross the street. Come on, Lucas. Let’s go get root beer.”

Balancing her daughter with one arm, Annabeth caught Lucas’s hand and tugged him toward the store entrance. For an instant, the boy resisted, looking back at Joseph. That was when a shaft of sunlight caught his eyes.

Joseph’s throat jerked, cutting off his breath.

Lucas’s eyes were the color of fresh spring clover.

There would be no root beer that day. Annabeth’s children dragged their feet as they followed their parents to the dusty Model T that was parked in a lot alongside the store. But they knew better than to complain out loud. Their father had changed his mind, and that was that.

Annabeth helped Lucas into the back seat and settled Ellie on her lap for the ride home. Her husband’s silence and the grim set of his mouth told her there would be a reckoning later, when they could speak in private.

Silas Mosby backed the auto out of the side lot and swung onto the bumpy, narrow road that led to the dry farms east of town. As he drove, Annabeth stole a sidelong glance at his rigid posture in the driver’s seat. She could already sense the storm brewing inside him.

Silas had known she was pregnant when he married her. He’d also known who’d fathered her baby. Before their vows were exchanged, Silas had made her promise that she would never speak of the man in his, or the child’s, presence.

“I’m willing to raise your baby, Annabeth,” he’d told her.

“Especially if it’s a boy. We can always use another pair of hands on the farm.

But when I slip my mother’s ring on your finger, you’ll become a Mosby, and so will your baby.

There’ll be no mention of the Dollarhide name.

Your child will know me as its father. And that rich bastard who took advantage of an innocent girl can burn in hell. ”

At the memory of her so-called innocence, Annabeth’s mouth twitched in a bitter, secret smile. She had loved Joseph to the depths of her sixteen-year-old heart. She had wanted him to get her pregnant.

She had done what it took to catch him off guard, hoping to marry into the Dollarhide family, just as Joseph’s mother had done.

But by the time she discovered that the first part of her plan had succeeded, her chance was gone.

Joseph was off pursuing that witch, Lucy Merriweather.

And much as she wanted him, Annabeth knew that if Joseph were forced to marry her, he would hate her for trapping him. She would never have his heart.

Finding another man to wed her had been easy enough. Older than Annabeth by a decade, hardworking, and handsome in a rawboned way, Silas had his own farm and was looking for a wife. At the time, he’d appeared to be an ideal choice. Only later had Annabeth discovered the dark side of his nature.

But at least he was a man of his word. Over the past four years, going on five, Silas had treated Lucas as his own, even though the boy was the green-eyed, golden-skinned image of Joseph Dollarhide.

Ellie had fallen asleep, her pale lashes lying feather soft against her rosy cheeks.

She was Silas’s child—fair-haired, gray-eyed, and headstrong.

Silas had hoped for more sons to continue his own lineage.

That so far Annabeth had given him just one child, a girl, had to be a stinging disappointment.

But Annabeth loved her daughter—almost as much as she loved the boy she still thought of as Joseph’s son.

“Who was that man helping you, Mama?” Lucas’s voice piped up from the back seat.

Silas’s knuckles whitened on the steering wheel.

“Who was he?” Lucas demanded again.

“Nobody,” Annabeth replied. “Nobody at all.”

Numb with shock, Joseph watched the family of four disappear around the corner of the store. Were his eyes playing tricks? He could believe that he’d seen Annabeth and exchanged a few words with her. But that boy—a boy whose appearance and age suggested the unthinkable …

No, it wasn’t possible. After all this time, surely he would have known—or Annabeth would have told him. What he’d seen of the boy was nothing but a fleeting impression, too brief to be real.

The blast of an auto horn reminded him that he’d left his car in the middle of the street and it was blocking traffic.

He rushed to start the engine and move it down the block, where he parked in front of the garage, next to the gasoline pump.

His thoughts churned as he waited for the attendant to fill the tank.

He had to forget what he’d seen—or imagined he’d seen.

Otherwise, he would drive himself to distraction.

Even if the boy had been real, what could he do?

He had no right to interfere with another man’s family.

Almost angrily, Joseph forced the thought aside.

After he’d paid for the fuel and moved the car, he stopped by the post office. There was nothing in the mail but bills and invoices, most of them related to the lumber business. He tucked them into his briefcase, to be opened later.

He was about to leave the post office when he noticed a hand-decorated flyer thumbtacked to the notice board—a reminder of Blue Moon’s annual Independence Day celebration, which would be held next week. There would be a parade, a picnic with games, and a dance in the evening.

The sawmill would be shut down to give the workers a holiday.

Joseph wasn’t much for parades—especially this year, when he might be tempted to scan the crowd for Annabeth’s green-eyed son.

But he should probably go to the dance, as he had in other years.

At least it would give Blake the impression that he was scouting for a bride. He might even have a good time.

The drive to Miles City, which Joseph had made countless times, would take about an hour.

The weather-beaten road passed through open country dotted with patches of scrub and forest and occasional farms. Traffic was light, the weather bright and clear.

There was nothing to keep his thoughts from straying into the forbidden past.

Had he loved Annabeth? He’d liked her a lot, that was for sure.

She was smart for a farm kid and prettier than any of the town girls.

And there was a raw honesty about her—she’d grown up working with animals and had even delivered two of her younger brothers.

She’d been a virgin when they started seeing each other—she’d said so and he knew how to tell.

But even the first time, sex had come as naturally to her as breathing.

At nineteen, Joseph had been driven by raging teenage lust. But love? He’d been too young to know the meaning of the word. He only knew that he couldn’t get enough of her willing body.

He’d been aware of how babies were made, and he’d known enough to pull out before he finished.

He’d done that every time—except for once, he recalled, when she’d wrapped his hips in her strong legs and held him inside her until he’d lost control.

Annabeth had done it on purpose, with clear intent. She’d even confessed her plan.