Читать книгу The Texan's Christmas - Linda Warren, Linda Warren - Страница 11

LUCKY HURRIED THROUGH the back door of her home, wanting to check on her father before meeting Travis. She found him in the living room in his recliner watching Wheel of Fortune—a double-barrel shotgun lay across his lap. Ever since he was wounded in an attempted robbery years ago, the gun was never far from him. Faithful as always, Ollie, his black-and-white border collie, lay by the chair, also watching the TV as if he understood every word.

“Hey, girl, what’re you doing home so early?”

“I wanted to check on you and make sure you had supper.”

Her father’s fall about six years ago had injured an already bad hip. Now it was stiff and cumbersome and he walked with a cane. He was the only family she had. She didn’t even remember her mother, who’d died when she was small. Her grandmother helped raise her, but her father was always in charge. No matter what, she would be here for him like he’d been there for her.

“I had a bowl of soup. I’m not too hungry.”

“Dad, you have to eat.” She worried about him. He’d gotten so thin in the past few years and it took effort to get him moving around. The cattle on the property were his only interest. Every now and then she could coax him into coming into The Joint so he could visit and talk to people.

“Girl, you get on my nerves sometimes.”

“That’s what daughters are for.”

“Humph.”

She went into the kitchen, cut cheddar cheese into wedges, grabbed crackers, a clump of grapes and a Dr Pepper, his favorite drink besides beer. Placing them on the TV tray by his chair, she said, “Something for you to nibble on.”

Ollie looked up at her, wagging his tail.

“Okay, I’ll get you some bacon strips.”

Once Ollie had his treat, she glanced at her father, who was trying to look around her to see the TV.

“I saw Kid Hardin today.”

“What?” She suddenly had her dad’s full attention.

“I tried to maintain my cool.” She wrinkled her nose. “I think I failed a couple of times, but I didn’t get my gun and shoot him. It was on my mind, though. He strolled in bigger than Dallas expecting me to forgive and forget. Not that he asked for forgiveness. He just wanted the past swept under the rug, like it had never happened.”

She took a deep breath. “He…uh…looks as good as ever. He’s gotten older, of course, but even that’s appealing with a couple of gray hairs and a Hollywood five o’clock shadow. On most men the look seems as if they need a bath, but Kid has it perfected. His body isn’t as lean as it was, either. He’s filled out with a lot of muscle.”

“Sounds as if you looked at him pretty good.”

Maybe too good.

“I was trying to figure out where to put the bullet.”

Her father laughed and it felt good to hear that robust sound. He didn’t laugh enough.

“After all these years, did he have a reason to stop by?”

“Oh, yeah. He wants to lease our land for oil and gas.”

“That son of a bitch!”

“Mmm. When he left, I talked to Mr. Harvey. The rumor is that since the oil well on the Hardin property isn’t producing, Cadde acquired the drilling contract from another company, as well as another tract, for a pretty penny. But they need our land to complete the desired acreage for a horizontal well or whatever.”

“So, now Kid wants a favor?”

“That’s about it.”

Her father’s eyes narrowed. “What was your answer?”

“Hell, no.” She looked down at her fingernails. One she’d bitten down to the quick since this afternoon. Damn Kid! She’d wondered for years what her reaction would be if she ever saw him again. Hi. How you doing? They would be polite, or maybe just indifferent. She just didn’t expect all the hurt and pain to still be there, and be so vivid.

“Lucky.” Her father noticed her hesitation, her inner struggle. She could never keep anything from him.

“I’m okay.” She brushed it away. “It was just a shock seeing him after all these years.” She reached down and scratched Ollie’s head. “I’ve got to go. I have to meet Travis in a few minutes.”

“Lucky.”

“Dad, I really don’t want to talk about Kid.”

“I’m not worried about Kid. It’s Travis. I want you to get out of this job.”

“It’s what I do and I’m very good at it.”

“It’s dangerous.”

She sighed at this same old conversation. “I’m well trained and can take care of myself.”

“You’re a woman and cattle rustling is a man’s game.”

Her job was top secret and she knew her father would never tell anyone. It would endanger her life. She worked as an undercover agent to a special ranger for the Texas and Southwestern Cattle Raisers Association. Cattle rustling was on the upswing because of the economy. Not only cattle, but tractors, ATVs, farm equipment, saddles and tack—anything that could be sold. She spent most of her day selling beer and listening for tidbits of information. Sometimes it paid off and they could shut down an operation or a petty thief eager to make a fast buck.

“Don’t worry.” She kissed her dad’s cheek and headed for the door before he could get in another plea.

In her Chevy pickup she sped toward an old dirt road that was rarely used. She tried to push thoughts of Kid away, but he was always there in the hidden corners of her mind. So many wasted years of regret. She wished she could erase him like a recording and all that would be left would be a blank tape—a place to rewrite, a place to start over.

She spotted Travis’s truck. Parking behind him, she pushed a button and the window slid down. The heat of the late afternoon was still oppressive, or maybe it was just the warring thoughts inside her.

A tall lean man with sandy-blond hair and blue eyes walked toward her. At the lowest point in her life she’d found a friend—a true friend who wanted nothing but to help her.

When her dream of having a nursing career had fallen apart, she’d had to search for work. No way could she come home with her tail between her legs. The old biddies in High Cotton said she would never amount to anything. How could she? She was practically raised in a bar. The Bible-touting women did little for her self-esteem, but Kid had restored her confidence in herself, in life.

And then he’d destroyed it.

She’d fought the memory like she’d fought for so many things. After years of menial jobs, she was hired as a gopher for a big convention center in Austin. It was still a menial job, but it was interesting. That’s how she’d met Travis. The Texas and Southwestern Cattle Raisers Association was having a big meeting and Travis was the keynote speaker, educating people on how to keep their cattle and their equipment safe.

He’d arrived early as she and another lady were setting up microphones, video equipment, tables with water and every little thing that had been requested. One of her jobs was to make the guests comfortable with coffee, water or whatever. She liked Travis and he was easy to talk to. Before she knew it she was telling him about High Cotton, her dad, The Beer Joint.

It was a one-meeting-type thing, or so she’d thought. He’d called the next day and asked if she was interested in a job. When he’d told her what he needed, she was shocked and told him she had no experience. His answer was she’d have to be trained. She went to seminars at the police academy in Austin, took self-defense classes and learned to use a gun.

It was exciting compared to her ho-hum life. While they were working a case, she’d asked him why he’d picked her without any qualifications for an undercover agent. His answer was simple—he’d liked her character and she knew her way around a bar. Surprisingly, that didn’t hurt her feelings. Beer and rustling seemed to go together.

She’d worked several counties with Travis where rustling was the strongest. Her cover was always in beer joints in small, out-of-the-way towns. Then her dad had fallen and that had given her the courage to return home. She was still the barkeep’s daughter, but ironically it didn’t matter anymore. Even though no one knew her real job, she felt good about herself. And that’s all it took—belief in herself.

Like Kid had once made her feel.

As Travis stopped at her window, she wondered why she’d never fallen for him. He was handsome, personable and trustworthy, but the passion, that special chemistry, wasn’t there.

She feared she’d used it all up on a man who hadn’t deserved it.

“Got anything?” he asked, tilting his hat. Sweat peppered his forehead. For the first week in September, it was still hot.

They usually met once a month if they were working a big case, but most of their contact was through the phone and text messages. She was careful to delete everything from Travis in case someone managed to get her phone. His name wasn’t even on her cell. His number was under a fake name. They were very cautious.

“No,” she replied. “The three cowboys came in, but they didn’t let anything slip. They only stayed about thirty minutes and were more interested in flirting with me.”

“Lucky, be careful. These guys are no good.” Concern coated every word.

“I’m always careful. You know that.”

“Yeah. You throw yourself into these cases and sometimes I feel guilty. You should be married with babies.”

Her heart stopped and for a moment she couldn’t breathe. He was right. At thirty-eight she should be married.

I’ll love you forever, Lucky.

But Kid hadn’t loved her at all. Why couldn’t a starry-eyed teenager see that? Because she wanted to believe.

“Nine cows and six calves were stolen from the Hopper place last night,” Travis was saying. She blinked and forced her thoughts back to the conversation.

“The Hoppers are in their seventies and they use the money from calf sales to supplement their Social Security. Now it’s gone—” Travis snapped his fingers “—just like that. I preach infrared digital game cameras to ranchers all the time. They’re relatively cheap at a sporting goods store, but I have a hell of a time getting anyone to use them until something is stolen.”

Lucky had installed two on their property in trees overlooking their corral and the fence line. They were battery operated and snapped photos of anything that moved, even at night. Her father had also used calf sales to supplement their income. He usually sold calves around Christmastime so Lucky could have a good Christmas. One year rustlers wiped out his herd and Christmas was very lean at their house. Lucky always remembered how hurt her father had been. Maybe that’s why she was in this business. She didn’t want anyone else to go through that. Or maybe she enjoyed doing something meaningful for the community. It boosted her self-worth and confidence.

“It’s always an afterthought,” she said, running her hand along the steering wheel.

Travis reached for his cell and showed her several photos. “There’s the Hopper brand that’s on the cattle. And here’s a silver inlaid saddle Mr. Hopper was going to give to his great-grandson.”

She studied the pictures. “The Hoppers are really nice people.” She didn’t know them personally, but they were big in the church and spoke to Lucky whenever they saw her. Most of the holier-than-thou people turned their heads without acknowledging her presence.

“Yeah. My guess is the cowboys will try to move the saddle quickly. If they come back in tonight, they’ll probably have a lot of cash.”

“I’ll watch for the signs.”

Travis patted the window opening. “Just be careful. I’ll be patrolling the back roads tonight. Call if you need anything.”

He strolled to his truck and she started her engine. She’d be on the alert. If the cowboys had stolen the cows, they’d be flashing cash and the more they drank the more they wouldn’t be able to resist bragging. That was usually a rustler’s downfall—the urge to brag to his friends.

Now if she could just keep Kid out of her life, but she knew he’d be back. Good thing she was licensed to carry a gun.

AFTER SUPPER, KID TOSSED and turned on the bunk he’d slept on as a kid. Thank God Chance had installed heating and air-conditioning years ago or he wouldn’t be able to sleep at all. Chance was the homebody, always there for their aunt and uncle. Now that Chance was married with a family Kid decided he needed to help out more. It was the very least he could do.

He flipped onto his side. The room was small, cramped, and Aunt Etta hadn’t changed a thing about it in almost twenty-five years—the night their parents had died.

A twin and a bunk bed filled the room. A closet was on the left and a dresser on the right. They barely had space to get into their beds, but they didn’t care. It was a place for the brothers to be together. A place to grieve.

But Dane Belle hadn’t let them grieve long. He kept them busy on the High Five ranch. A man was what they had needed in their lives and Dane had fit the bill. He was the most assertive, strong and loving man Kid had ever known. He made the orphaned Hardin boys part of the Belle family.

Aunt Etta was the housekeeper for High Five and Uncle Ru cowboyed for Dane. They lived in a small house not far from the Belle residence. Actually, in their backyard.

Dane was a ladies’ man and had three daughters by three different wives. Caitlyn, the oldest, lived on the ranch because her mother had died in childbirth. Madison and Skylar lived with their mothers, but they spent every summer on the ranch. They had great summers with the sisters. Through the laughter and fun, their grief had slowly eased.

The sisters were all settled now and living in High Cotton. Caitlyn had married a neighboring rancher, Judd Calhoun. For years, he’d been her arch enemy, mainly because Cait had broken their youthful engagement without an explanation. Somehow they’d worked out their differences and now had twin sons. Maddie, the sweet sister, had fallen in love with Walker, the constable, and they had three children. Dane’s wild child, Skylar, owned High Five with her husband, Cooper Yates. Kid would have bet money that Sky would never live in this homey town. Now she was a mother of two, living in wedded bliss. If Sky was cooking, he might have a heart attack. What was it about this place that drew everyone back? What made them rethink their lives and settle for the best of the best?

Kid sat up on the edge of the bed and bumped his head on the top bunk. Damn it! He’d done that so many times when he was a boy and he suddenly realized the bed wasn’t suitable for a grown man. His feet hung over the end. The cot was harder than he remembered, too. Back then they were just boys and they didn’t care about much of anything besides sports and trucks.

Chance had been twelve, he was fourteen and Cadde had turned sixteen—young boys just starting to discover life…and girls. They weren’t ready to face the death of their parents and later they certainly weren’t ready to face the truth about their father—an adulterer—who was willing to leave his wife and young sons for another woman.

Oh, God. Why was he thinking about it? To keep from analyzing his own feelings, his own actions. Why hadn’t he called Lucky? Why hadn’t he come back for her?

He meant to call her that first night after he’d reached Lubbock, but there was a party going on and they drank way into the wee hours of the morning. A hangover kept him in bed for two days. Then there was another party. When he finally sobered up, it was time to start classes. He still avoided the call because he knew she was going to be so mad.

And there were all those Texas Tech beauties smiling at him. He was young, wild and a whole lot of crazy. One day turned into another and the call was never made. He was having too much fun. After that he didn’t have the nerve to call. The miles and the different environment drove them apart. It was his fault. He was very aware of that.

Dane had insisted he come home for Christmas that year and he had, along with Cadde. The next morning they’d left again for Lubbock. After that first year in college, he decided sitting in a classroom wasn’t for him. He and a friend headed for the Alaskan oil fields to get a hands-on job and to learn the business from roughnecking. The freezing weather almost got him, but he stayed for two years.

Every time he talked to Dane, he’d asked Kid to come home. Aunt Etta and Uncle Ru had asked, too. For some reason he couldn’t do that. It was the first time he’d done anything without Dane’s approval.

Another guilt mark on his soul.

When he’d returned to Texas, Chance was at the university and the Hardin boys partied all night. But soon Kid left for the East Texas oil fields. And then south Texas. He roughnecked just about everywhere.

Cadde had graduated with a petroleum engineering degree and was working his way up the corporate ladder. Chance wavered between the oil business and cowboying, but he was never far from home. On the other hand, Kid couldn’t seem to get far enough away.

Until he got the call.

Dane Belle had passed away.

Kid’s return was painful and heartbreaking. He’d looked for Lucky at the funeral, but she wasn’t there. When he tried to talk to Bud, he’d walked away and Kid knew he wasn’t welcome in High Cotton.

The strip of guilt got wider.

But he never let it show.

He ran his hands over his face and got up, turning on the light. Cadde was right. He had to start with an apology and now was as good a time as any. Reaching for his jeans on Cadde’s bed, he noticed something on the wall by his bunk. It couldn’t be. He bent down to take a closer look. It was a heart he’d drawn with a Magic Marker. Inside he’d printed Kid Loves Lucky, and underneath that was Lucky and the Kid. Damn! Aunt Etta had never removed it.

All those feelings of first love blindsided him. He sat on the bed with a thud. Maybe he’d been trying to outrun them. Maybe that’s why it was so hard to come home. Maybe it was Lucky.

He quickly dressed and searched for a pen and paper in the dresser drawer. Some of their high school books were still there. Did Aunt Etta never throw out anything? Scribbling a note he tiptoed into the living and kitchen area and placed it on the table. Suddenly the lights came on. Aunt Etta stood in the doorway in a flowered cotton robe, her gray hair sticking out in all directions.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Who sleeps?” Aunt Etta went to the refrigerator and pulled out a carton of milk. “I thought you went to bed.”

“I did, but I’m going out again and I was leaving you a note.”

“A note?” Aunt Etta paused in reaching for a pot.

“So you wouldn’t worry.”

“Ah.” She grabbed the pot and poured milk into it. “It comes with the territory. And if an old aunt might be so bold, where are you going this time of night? It’s almost twelve.”

“I need to talk to Lucky.”

Aunt Etta turned from the stove. “Now, Kid, I think the time for talking to Lucky has long passed.”

“I screwed up.” He finally had to admit the truth.

She nodded. “Yeah. You’ve done that a time or two. You’ve always had this urge for freedom and you and Lucky got too serious too quick. I think you’re a lot like your father.”

No, no! Don’t say that!

“I’m not like him, am I?” Suddenly that was very, very important.

Aunt Etta bristled. “Why wouldn’t you want to be like him? He was your flesh and blood.”

He collected himself quickly. Aunt Etta didn’t know about her brother’s infidelity and Kid couldn’t tell her. At this late date, he couldn’t break her heart.

Giving her a peck on the cheek, he swung toward the door. “I’ll see you later.”

He’d dodged a bullet, but he thought about it all the way to The Beer Joint. He liked women. It was a fact he couldn’t deny, but he never cheated on anyone. Well, that wasn’t quite true. At Tech, he’d dated two girls at the same time. There was no commitment, though. Just fun. He never crossed that line of committing to forever, except with Lucky. He’d promised her as soon as he had a good job, they’d get married. They’d be together. No…oh, God!

He was just like his father.

WHEN HE REACHED THE BEER JOINT, he parked on the left side, away from the glare of the big spotlight Bud had installed. Three trucks were on the right so someone had to still be here. He slipped out of his vehicle. Before he could take a step, Bubba Joe came out, head down, and quickly drove away in the little Nissan. Did he leave Lucky by herself?

Suddenly, three cowboys half staggered to the Dodge pickup, the ones he’d seen earlier talking to Lucky, but they didn’t get in. They stood there talking, but Kid couldn’t make out what they were saying. His eyes centered on the door as Lucky came out, a purse over her shoulder, keys in her hand. She locked the door and made her way to the Chevy truck.

Unlocking it, she opened the door as one cowboy came around the front and the other two around the back to confront her. How he wished he had something besides his fists because this wasn’t good.

“Hey, Lucky,” one of them shouted, “why don’t we continue this party somewhere else?”

“You’re drunk, Clyde. Go home.” She looked at the other two. “That includes you, too, Earl and Melvin.”

“You’ve been teasing us all evening,” the one called Earl said.

“Yeah. Now it’s time to ante up,” Melvin, the heavy-set guy added.

Clyde grabbed her arm and she knocked it away. “Don’t touch me or you’ll regret it.”

“Hot damn, she’s got a temper.” Clyde and the other two closed in.

Kid stepped into the light. “Get away from the lady.”

All three cowboys swung around.

“Who the hell are you, mister?” Clyde asked.

“Someone who’s going to kick your ass if you don’t get out of here.”

Earl snickered. “You think you can take us?”

“In a heartbeat.”

Melvin pulled a switchblade knife from his pocket, the silver catching the light with a startling eeriness. “Can you take this?”

Before Kid could reply, the other two jumped him. They went down into the gravel, fists flying. Kid slammed a right into Clyde’s stomach and he rolled away, moaning. He didn’t have time to think as a blow connected with his chin. Kicking out with his boot, he knocked Earl over the rail and he landed against the building. His body slithered down like a snake. Kid immediately jumped to his feet to face Melvin who was coming toward him with the knife.

“I’m gonna cut you six ways from Sunday, mister.”

Suddenly, a gunshot ripped through the September night. Lucky had a gun. Where in the hell did she get a gun?

“Party’s over, boys,” she said in a voice he’d never heard before. “Now get out of here.”

“What…?”

She pointed the gun at him. “Shut up.”

With grunts and moans, the cowboys lumbered to their feet. Melvin looked at him one more time before they got in the Dodge and left.

Lucky reached with her left hand into her purse for her cell and poked in a number. The gun was still pointed at him and he found that a little disturbing.

“Walker, this is Lucky. Three drunken cowboys just left my place. They’re headed east in a black Dodge Ram. You might want to alert the highway patrol. Yeah. I’m okay.” Deftly she slipped the phone back into her purse, her eyes and the gun focused on him. “I want you out of my life for good. Don’t come back here or to my house. You got it?”

“That’s cold for someone who saved you from a fate worse than death.”

“You didn’t save me from anything!” she shouted. “I had the situation under control. I knew they were waiting for me and…”

“What!” He had no idea what she was talking about.

“Get in your truck and leave. Now!”

He could feel anger emanating from her in waves of white heat, much like the simmering night. “Put the gun down, Lucky, and let’s talk.”

“I’m not talking to you.”

He stepped closer, going on a hunch that she wouldn’t shoot him. “Why are you so angry?”

At the question, she took several deep breaths as if to calm herself.

“I’m worried about you,” he said when she remained silent, hoping to find a chink in that solid wall of steel she’d built around herself.

She laughed, a sound that curdled his insides. “Worried about me? That’s rich.”

He knew what she was talking about now. He didn’t have to ask—the past.

“Okay. I screwed up. I’m…”

“Don’t say the words and make a mockery of my intelligence. Just don’t say them.”

She was full of anger and all of it was directed at him. “I know you’re upset, but it’s been twenty years.”

“And I’ve lived every moment of it.”

There was a lot of emotion behind those words that he didn’t understand. “What are you talking about?”

“Just stay the hell out of my life.”

She made to get in the pickup, but he held the door, very aware she still had the gun in her hand. “Come on, Lucky.”

The supposed magical words didn’t have the old effect they used to. She eased back against the truck, her eyes as hard as he’d ever seen them.

“I’m going to give you a good reason to stay out of my life.”

“I know…”

“You know nothing.” She waved the gun. “Do you remember saying ‘I love you, Lucky’? ‘We’ll get married. I’ll call. I’ll write. We’ll be together, I promise.’”

“Yeah.” He swallowed hard. “I said all that and I meant it.”

“Unfortunately, I thought you meant it, too.”

“Lucky…”

She raised the gun. “I’m not through talking. I waited every day for you to call, but you didn’t. When I left for Austin, I told Dad to contact me the moment you phoned. Stupid me, I actually believed you still would. I was so stressed out with you leaving and then not calling I didn’t realize I’d missed my period. Twice. I prayed I wasn’t pregnant, but I was—three months.”

What! The ground beneath his feet moved.

“I couldn’t call my dad or come home because I was ashamed and couldn’t face anyone. I had to drop out of school because they didn’t accept pregnant girls in the program because you have to work long hours on your feet. It was a liability thing. I’m sure it’s different today. They refunded my money and I lived on that until I got a job at Walmart to put food in my mouth. I couldn’t afford a doctor so I had to go to a free clinic. I wanted my baby to be born healthy so I tried to do everything I was supposed to. I started having contractions a month early so I drove myself to an indigent hospital. They said I wasn’t far enough along and to come back when the contractions were closer together. When I reached my apartment, the pain became severe and I asked my neighbor to drive me to the hospital again. She couldn’t stay because she had kids. By the time they saw me the placenta had separated from the baby and he was deprived of oxygen. He was dead. He died…”

“Luc-ky.”

“Shut up. I’m not through.” She pointed the gun at his face. “He was a beautiful baby boy and I got to hold him for a few minutes. I was in a room with three other women, but I was all alone. They had families. I had no one. I dealt with the gut-wrenching pain alone while you were in Lubbock County trying to lay every woman in sight. I feel the pain of his death every day. I feel the pain of your betrayal every day. So don’t talk to me about anger because I’d just as soon shoot you, you low-down bastard.”

She jumped into her truck and tore out of the parking lot, spewing gravel across his chest.

Oh, my God! His knees gave way and he sank into the rocks as a pain like he’d never known before slashed through him. The spotlight was clearly on him and his sins, but it wasn’t the one in the parking lot. It was from above, exposing the guilt that had haunted him for years.

They’d had a child. A son.

He’d let Lucky down and, God help him, he’d let their baby down.

How did he live with that?