Colton by Blood, page 4
But Jethro wasn’t done. “Only God knows how many men she spread her legs for so she could get at my money. You’re lucky I couldn’t be bothered to protest the paternity.”
Rage exploded in Levi like a cloud of poison. How dare he.
How dare Jethro insult the woman who’d loved him her whole life—no, she’d worshipped him. Whatever love and caring she’d had left over she’d given to Levi, and while it hadn’t been much, it had gotten him through until he could take care of himself. She’d died with a photograph of Jethro in a locket around her neck, and he repaid her loyalty by calling her, in so many words, a whore.
Levi twisted the flannel in his grip, his skin sweating in the gloves. The hand fisted in the pillow trembled with restrained aggression. “I want to hear you say it. Out loud. I want you to admit, for once in your life, that you’re my father.”
Jethro bared clenched teeth and growled, “What good would that do you?”
Hovering over the bed, Levi sucked in air through flared nostrils, more enraged than he’d ever been in his life. Even more than the night he’d stormed out of Dead after his mother’s funeral, cursing the town of his birth and everyone in it, vowing never to return.
Then it hit him. Jethro was right.
What good would it do? Both men knew the truth, so why did he need to hear it aloud? Why couldn’t he keep his emotions under control? He opened his hands and stumbled out of the bedroom and into the sitting room, looking anywhere and everywhere except at Jethro’s cold eyes.
For the first time, he processed his surroundings. The suite was larger than Levi’s entire apartment, and with more furniture, too, all outfitted in hues of rich greens and gold, as well as espresso-stained wood that lent a cozy, masculine feel to the space. Far less opulent than the rest of the house, it looked as if it belonged to a man of means, but one who appreciated simple comfort. Levi would’ve never guessed that side of Jethro’s personality.
A massive stone fireplace, sitting cold and empty, formed the focal point of a sitting area buffered on both sides by crowded bookshelves. Levi walked to it. Books were like a magnet to him, his mom used to say, pride in her voice. In the wake of Jethro’s insults, the memory sent a pulse of pain through his heart.
He scanned the books’ spines, not reading the titles but simply taking comfort that they were there. He’d promised the daughters dearest that he wouldn’t leave without a fight. Time to go one last round in the ring tonight. If it didn’t work, he’d return in the morning and give it another shot.
Eyes fixed on the red and brown leather book spines, he made fists, stretching the latex gloves, then shook out his hands. “Your daughters are worried about you,” he said loud enough for Jethro to hear in the adjacent room.
“They’re like a bunch of hens.” The words came out strained and were followed by a lengthy pause. “Clucking around a chicken yard.” Another pause. “Making noise but not doing any good.”
The labored breathing, which had gotten measurably worse in the past few minutes, helped Levi focus on what mattered. He was a doctor, and if he couldn’t convince his patient to take immediate, drastic measures, his father would die. Painfully and soon.
Without meeting Jethro’s stare, he returned to the room. From his medical bag, he withdrew a blunt-tipped oral syringe and morphine he’d picked up at the hospital pharmacy on his way out of town as a just-in-case addition to his medical supplies.
“Whatever that is—” breath “—I’m not taking it.”
Levi measured a dosage, then walked to the bed and met Jethro’s hard stare. “Open your mouth.”
“Go to hell.”
“Don’t worry, this isn’t going to add any time to your life. I realize how averse you are to that. This is for your pain and shortness of breath.”
Jethro used the crumpled tissue he’d been clutching to dab at the blood still trickling from his nose. “I would’ve thought you’d want me to feel as much pain as possible.”
For a lot of his life, yes. But not anymore. “I’m a doctor. We never want anybody to be in pain. It’s in the job description.” He swiped a fresh tissue from the box and blotted at the blood Jethro had missed.
Miracles of miracles, he let him.
“I’m not changing my will to include you...if that’s what you expect out of all of this.” His eyes were still mean and hard, but he sat passively and allowed the blood to be mopped. “You’re not getting a dime from me or my estate.”
Levi narrowed his eyes, nodding. “You know what? I never thought you and I would agree on anything, but I guess I was wrong. You don’t want me to have any of the Colton fortune and I don’t want it, either. Forget about a dime—I wouldn’t accept a cent of your money. The less I have to do with you, the better. If you so much as attempt to write me into your will, I’ll make you rue the day.” He held the syringe toward Jethro’s mouth. “Stop acting a fool and open up.”
* * *
Kate descended the stairs as fast as a rabbit, the memory of the blackout still fresh in her mind. Someone had been through to clean up the glass and spilled food between the first and second floors, leaving behind only a lingering dampness.
When she turned the corner for the final set of stairs, she saw a crowd gathered in the staff dining room. Most of the staff were watching the wall-mounted television intently. Some of the younger maids, as well as the other kitchen assistants, Jenny and Liz, gabbed over steaming mugs of tea. Mathilda sat at her desk in an alcove along the window, writing in a ledger.
Kate wasn’t at an angle to see the TV screen, but the drone of a woman’s stoic voice told her they were watching the news. She entered the room to see what news story had captured their interest. The screen showed a scene of darkness and fire. Under it, the headline Brush Fires Sweep Western Wyoming.
The same reporter Kate had heard on the stairs continued in a voice-over. “The brush fire, located in a remote wilderness area in the western region of the state, was reported earlier today and has burned at least 6,500 acres, with no containment in sight as wind gusts topping twenty miles per hour continue to fan the flames.”
Kate’s throat tightened. Was there a word for people who feared Mother Nature? Weatherphobic, perhaps? She couldn’t possibly be the only one out there who saw what a cold-blooded killer the weather could be.
She touched the shoulder of Dylan Frick, the ranch’s best wrangler. Faye was his mom and he’d taken her death harder than any of them, though he tried not to show it. “How close is the fire?”
Dylan angled his chin in her direction, but didn’t take his eyes off the screen. “Seventy miles north of Dead, but the wind’s pushing it away from us.”
Thank goodness. She loosened her grip on the tray she was holding.
Misty—who’d been hired two weeks earlier and already held the dubious honor of being only slightly less grating on Kate’s nerves than Agnes—leaped to her feet and rushed to Kate’s side. “Forget about the fire,” Misty said. “You’re the one with the real news.”
A few heads turned at the disturbance, and before she knew it, Kate was surrounded by people.
Jenny jumped to her feet, tossing her straight, brown hair. She was only a couple of years younger than Kate, but even though the two women had worked together for two years, Kate didn’t like her any more than on Jenny’s first day of work, when she’d shown up in a miniskirt and platform wedge sandals, letting everyone know loud and clear exactly which of her attributes convinced Mr. Colton to hire her. “Is it true? Is he here?”
Kate wasn’t prepared to reduce Levi to gossip fodder. “What do you mean?”
Jenny scooped her index finger up through the air toward the stairs as though she was gesturing to the upper floors. “He who shall not be named. Mr. Colton’s other son. Is he up there?”
Mathilda cleared her throat.
Kate sealed her lips. She couldn’t afford to land herself into further trouble with Mathilda and, anyhow, she didn’t have time for gossip, not with another bread pudding to deliver. She sidestepped the gaggle of people clamoring around her and made a beeline through the short hall to the kitchen. Rather than let her go about her business in peace, though, they followed her in.
Agnes looked up from the pot she was drying. “What is this, a party? Out of my kitchen, all of you.”
“We’re only trying to help Kate,” Misty said in a cloying tone before her eyes turned cunning and she added, “And get the scoop on Levi Colton.”
Silent, Agnes went back to work. Apparently she wanted the scoop on Levi, too.
Blowing a rogue curl of hair from her face, Kate marched to the prep counter, knowing it was no use to fight the inevitable. She was trapped.
“He’s single, isn’t he? You didn’t see a ring, right?” Jenny asked with an enthusiasm that showed how eager she was to find a Prince Charming to whisk her off her feet and away from her life as a maid.
“I didn’t see a ring, no.” Protectiveness flared to life inside Kate. She didn’t like the idea of Jenny pushing her ample charms on Levi, not when he was coping with his father’s terminal illness—and his cruel words, for that matter.
“A young, hot, available Colton man doesn’t come around but once in a generation. I think I’m in love,” Misty said, fake swooning over the counter.
Clamping her mouth closed lest she say something regretful, Kate grabbed a dish towel and shined up the tray. Contrary to Misty’s assessment, Levi wasn’t the first available Colton male in recent history. Mr. Colton had been available more than once during his life—quite a few times, actually, for both new wives and new mistresses alike—but it would’ve been untoward to mention it. Misty’s, Jenny’s and Liz’s glares bored holes into her back.
“I’ve never heard talk about any son of Mr. Colton’s besides baby Cole,” Kate said. “How did you three find out about him?”
“I heard Gabby and Amanda talking last week,” Misty said.
“That’s Miss Gabby and Miss Amanda to you,” Agnes called from across the room.
Misty rolled her eyes. “While I was changing Miss Gabby’s sheets, she said he was a doctor. Is it true?”
Kate bit the insides of her cheeks, realizing there was no graceful way to shield their new visitor from the staff’s curiosity. Even if she didn’t share what she knew, they’d find out soon enough from another source. “Yes, a doctor. That’s what he said.”
She pushed past the girls and opened the refrigerator, taking out the whiskey sauce, a carton of heavy cream and a serving of bread pudding. After a split-second deliberation, she snagged a second dish of pudding in case Mr. Colton wanted seconds.
Jenny hummed her appreciation, as if a doctor were a rarefied prize indeed. “What does he look like? I only saw the side of him, but...” She bit her bottom lip, her eyes glittering. “It was a fine side, if I do say so myself.”
Misty bumped shoulders with Jenny. “Are you talking about his backside? Because that’s what I was looking at while he climbed the stairs.” She capped off the declaration with a catlike stretch of her spine.
Although Kate’s frustration was mounting, in that Levi was being spoken of as if all that mattered were his looks, bank account and last name, she was no innocent angel. Oh, she’d noticed him, all right.
It had been impossible not to take note of his considerable attributes, what with the way he’d practically sucked the air from Jethro’s bedroom with his presence and intensity of spirit. His body took up all the space, so much so that she’d found herself torn between wanting to flatten against the wall and drawing nearer to the magnetism emanating from those thick-lash-rimmed hazel eyes. The way he’d locked his gaze on her had left her as flustered as his unexpected declaration that Jethro was his father had.
After William’s death, she’d come to grips with the hard truth that she had no more love to give, but she was still a woman in her prime, with all the hot-blooded desires of one, and so could forgive herself for admiring a fine-looking man when one crossed her path. The difference between her and Jenny or Misty was that Kate wasn’t looking for a man to save her. Not anymore.
“I bet he’s after Mr. Colton’s money. That’s what his mother always wanted,” Agnes muttered as though she were talking to herself.
Misty, Jenny and Liz exchanged looks of intrigue. Even Kate’s ears perked up, but she couldn’t help it. She was hungry for details about Levi, what happened in his life that had made him such a force of intensity and how the bad blood between him and Mr. Colton began.
Misty scrambled around the center island and across the room to Agnes, with Jenny and Liz on her tail. “What do you know about his mother?”
“A trailer-trash druggie is what she was,” Agnes said.
Kate’s heart sank. If that were true, then no wonder Levi carried himself as though he had a cross to bear. She poured whipping cream in the mixing bowl. Once the loud motor of the mixer kicked in, she found herself scooting nearer to the gossipers to hear better.
“I remember when she came around the ranch—must have been near-abouts thirty years ago. Eileen Vessey was her name. A wisp of a woman, skin and bones.” Agnes had abandoned her dish-drying to put on a full storytelling show for her rapt audience. She leaned against the counter, bracing her hands against it, as wind gusts rattled the window behind her and shook the old oak tree outside. It shivered under the moonlight, its branches scraping the windowpane.
“She stormed straight into the house,” Agnes continued, “hollering for Mr. Colton to present himself like she was a wronged woman, and when security came to drag her away, she started crying about how Mr. Colton was the father of her baby.”
“Was he?” Jenny breathed.
Agnes twisted the drying towel in her hands. Jenny, Misty and Liz leaned closer. In the doorway, a group had gathered. Everyone, it seemed, was eager to hear the salacious tale. “He was a skirt-chaser, no doubt, but to lower himself to the likes of Eileen Vessey would’ve been unheard of. He denied it, of course, but until her dying breath, that’s what she swore.”
Kate ached for Levi. The truth about whether or not Mr. Colton was Levi’s father didn’t matter because Kate had looked in Levi’s eyes and could see he believed it with all his heart.
She turned from Agnes and her story to finish preparing the pudding. It was all she had to offer Levi for comfort tonight, but she knew that sometimes a sweet treat made with love could be enough to lighten a heavy heart, at least for a little while.
“What happened to Eileen Vessey?” Liz asked Agnes.
“That’s right—you weren’t working here yet when she passed to the other side. It must have been six or seven years ago. It was a big brouhaha.” Agnes sounded all too cheery.
“A poor soul’s death before her time isn’t a brouhaha. It’s a tragedy,” Kate said.
“Who made you the morality police? Some say it was heartbreak that killed her because she never stopped loving Mr. Colton. But I say that’s a pile of manure. There was no love in that woman’s heart, never was. The drugs is all she cared about. When I went to town, I used to see her walking the roads or stumbling out of bars, and Levi, when he was a little boy, all alone, playing with leaves and sticks in the gutter like a filthy street rat. If he had Colton blood in him, there’s no way Mr. Colton would’ve stood for it. Even if the boy was nothing but a bastard.”
Kate startled at the ugly word, dropping the pan of whiskey sauce to the counter with a clang. Nobody challenged Agnes except Mathilda, but Kate had had enough. “Don’t call him that.”
The eyes of Agnes’s audience all turned to Kate. Someone in the cluster by the door snickered.
Agnes’s brows raised. She sauntered Kate’s way like a school bully would approach a scrawny new kid. “What are you up to?” She banged the handle of her spoon on the mixing bowl. “Making yourself an end-of-the-day treat at the Coltons’ expense? Wouldn’t Mathilda love to hear that.”
Kate cleared her throat. “No. I’m preparing a second helping for Mr. Colton and another for—” She nearly called Levi by his first name. The staff would have had a field day with that one. “For Dr. Colton.” She drizzled whiskey sauce over the tops of the now-heated puddings.
“Feeling a bit big for your britches for being nothing but a cook’s assistant, aren’t you, girl? First the kidnapping letter and now this. You’d better watch your impertinence before you get yourself tossed out of this place.”
“What about the kidnapping letter?” Jenny asked.
“Kate, here, fancies herself a detective,” Agnes said. “She’s trying to catch whoever sent the letter to Duke last month offering to pay him to kidnap the baby. She found a copy of the letter, God knows how.”
Kate’s cheeks burned. She looked inside herself, but couldn’t muster a response, she was so infuriated. So much for her secret mission. She gripped the saucepan handle and drew herself up tall, then studied the faces of the people in the room. None of them would she take for the mastermind. They were her friends and colleagues. But it still sat uncomfortably with her that the information was out in the open.
She turned her back on Agnes and spooned pillows of cream over both dishes of pudding. If she’d been alone, she would’ve taken a moment to enjoy the beautiful sight of cream melting into the edges of the custard-saturated bread, but as it was, she couldn’t wait to get out of the kitchen. After a few attempts, she finally found her voice. “I was only trying to help Faye. She didn’t deserve to die.”
Her gaze automatically went to Dylan, who stood behind the rest of the crowd, his hand gripping the elbow of the opposite arm and a stoic expression on his dark features. Over the past four years, he’d become like a brother to her, accepting her in a way her own brother couldn’t. Dylan had shared his mom with Kate and she’d be forever grateful to him.
