Page 107 of Texas Honor

But once they were back at the ranch, Gabe was caught up in business. Phone calls, out-of-town trips, a thousand-and-one daily irritations that she couldn’t share or prevent. In business, he was still like a stranger—all cold, shrewd logic and hard-hitting determination; a real bulldozer.

In bed, everything was wonderful—and it got better all the time. But it seemed to be their only meeting place. And when the custody suit came up in court, Maggie was more nervous than she’d ever been, because she felt alone again.

Becky stayed behind with her grandmother while the adults all met in court for the first time.

“Don’t be nervous,” Gabe told Maggie quietly. “He won’t get her. I promise you, he won’t.”

But that didn’t reassure her. She loved Becky so much. The child had blossomed at the ranch; she was like a different little girl, and she worshiped her new father. She delighted in showing him off to people in town or in Abilene when they went shopping together. And they were like a family, even though Maggie felt more like a housekeeper than a wife. Gabe shared nothing with her except his body. His body was magnificent, and they’d achieved a beautiful peak of pleasure together, but Maggie wanted so much more: she wanted his love. And that seemed to be something he wasn’t capable of giving her.

The judge was a woman, Black and very beautiful and very young. Maggie’s heart sank; she would have felt a little more secure with someone older, perhaps someone with children of her own.

It was just as bad as she’d expected it to be. Worse. Dennis sat beside his attorney, smiling at Maggie with open contempt. His new wife was sitting beside him, more intent on her nail polish than she seemed to be with winning the case. Dennis jabbed her, and she glared at him, blonde and beautiful, as she put up the polish and assumed a bored look.

Dennis’s attorney accused Maggie of carrying on a long-standing affair with Gabriel Coleman. He added that despite their subsequent marriage, Maggie had been more interested in her own sensual satisfaction than in the welfare of her daughter. He even added a tidbit about Becky’s stay in boarding school, which he claimed was obvious evidence that Maggie didn’t want her child with her.

Maggie felt sick all over. How like Dennis to twist the truth. She sat there, dying inside, grateful that Janet hadn’t been forced to come and hear so many vicious lies.

“Stop looking so terrified,” Gabe whispered in her ear, and actually grinned. “It’s our turn now. Just listen and you’ll find out what we’ve got on that smiling jackass over there.”

She looked up, shocked. Her attorney was on his feet now, a nice elderly man with a voice that carried like that of a Shakespearean actor, deep and rich and authoritative. He had a folder in his hand, which he opened.

“We would like to acquaint the court with Mr. Blaine’s most recent activities,” he began, glancing at Dennis, who’d just assumed a wary posture. He read from the folder. “On the evening of March 15, he and his...wife...hosted a party that was subsequently joined by two plainclothes policemen. Mr. Blaine and his wife were arrested for possession of cocaine,” he added with a bland smile in Dennis’s direction. “On the evening of March 18, Mr. and Mrs. Blaine attended a party at a neighboring home. They were observed using cocaine, and participating in a...how shall we put it, Mr. Blaine?” he added, turning toward Dennis. “Orgy?”

“Your Honor,” the other attorney broke in, rising, “this is nothing more than a deliberate attempt on the part of the defendant to discredit my client. I feel—”

“I have the arrest record right here, Your Honor,” Maggie’s attorney said blithely. “Along with a detailed report of Mr. Blaine’s activities for the entire month of March, prepared by one of the most respected private detective agencies in Texas.” He moved forward. “Your Honor, the defense maintains that Mr. Blaine has no interest in his daughter other than control of a million-dollar trust left for her by her late grandfather. We can show beyond a reasonable doubt that Mr. Blaine is continually in debt, that he gambles, that his amorous activities are not confined to the home, that he uses illegal drugs... In short, we feel that to allow the child to live with him would be nothing less than condemning her to a day-to-day hell!”

“Lies!” Dennis shot to his feet, pale. “It’s all lies! It’s just her, trying to make me look bad!”

Gabe started to get to his own feet, feeling a red-hot urge to tear Dennis apart for what he’d done to Maggie. His own Maggie. But her hand restrained him. He glanced at her and, miraculously, calmed down. He sat but didn’t let go of her hand.

“One more outburst, Mr. Blaine, and I’ll hold you in contempt of court,” the judge said with majestic dignity. “Continue, please, Mr. Parmeter.”

Mr. Parmeter nodded. “Thank you, Your Honor.” He put the file folder down. “Your Honor, my client, Mrs. Coleman, was recently married to Gabriel Coleman. He owns the very successful Coleman Santa Gertrudis Ranch, the C-Bar Cross, just outside Abilene. He is rather well-known in these parts as an honest, responsible, highly respected businessman. He and my client have taken excellent care of the child, Rebecca, and Mr. Coleman is prepared to adopt her—”

“Over my dead body!” Dennis raged.

“Sit down, Mr. Blaine!” the judge said sharply.

Dennis sat, glaring at Gabe and Maggie.

“—as soon as the legalities are finalized,” Mr. Parmeter continued. “Your Honor, a little girl’s only hope of a happy future lies with you. We entrust her fate to your hands.”

Mr. Parmeter sat down. Maggie clung to Gabe’s hand, her face white with horror.

The judge studied a paper on her bench and then lifted her head, pursed her fingers and studied both sides of her courtroom. “I don’t approve of divorce, as a rule,” she began. “I prefer it when people try to work things out, especially if children are involved.”

Maggie’s eyes closed. Here it comes, she thought.

“However,” the judge continued, surprising Maggie, “in this case, I can understand very easily why a divorce was necessary. Mr. Blaine—” she looked at the stiff man beside the fluffy blonde “—having gone over the records provided by defense, I am certain that remanding Rebecca to your care would be a mistake. Your entire history is one of deception and selfishness and self-indulgence. Once you acquired control of the child’s inheritance, and went through it, you would have no more interest in her welfare than you would in a blade of grass.

“Now, I’ve spoken to Becky,” she added, surprising everyone except Gabe and Mr. Parmeter, “and asked her where she thought she’d be happiest.” She glanced at Gabriel and smiled. “She told me she wants to live with her new daddy, because he’s kinder to her than anyone else in the whole world except her mama.”

Gabe bit his lip and looked away. Maggie leaned close to him, her hand clinging to his.

“On the other hand,” the judge continued softly, “when I mentioned letting Becky go with her real father, she turned white as a sheet and had hysterics.” Her dark eyes narrowed as she looked at a now pale Dennis. “She told me a great deal about you, Mr. Blaine, including some things that she hasn’t even told her mother. And you are indeed fortunate that you haven’t been charged with child abuse. In fact, if the Colemans would like to press charges against you and pursue them, they would be well within their rights to do so.”

“Oh, hell, I don’t want the kid, anyway,” Dennis growled, standing. “I’ve got a job offer in South America. We’re going down there to live.”

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