Читать книгу A Texas Hero - Linda Warren, Linda Warren - Страница 14

CHAPTER FIVE

WALT PLACED A glass of iced tea in front of his friend Henry Coyote, Levi’s grandfather. Even though Henry was older by seven years, they were best friends. They were hardworking, hard cussing cowboys who were born and raised in Willow Creek, Texas. Henry had started a family early, while Walt had been thirty-five when Ethan was born. Henry’s son had been killed in a car accident and the son’s wife had moved to Austin with Levi and his sister. But Levi had returned every chance he got and lived here now. Like Ethan, Levi never strayed far from his roots.

Walt and Henry argued like two-bit lawyers and fought like bobcats. That is, they had in their younger days. They’d been there for each other through the bad times, the deaths of both their wives and the death of Henry’s son.

“Sure you don’t want to go to the Rusty Spur, drink some beer and play dominoes?” Henry asked.

“Nope. Not going anywhere until my boy comes home.”

“Levi is on the case and there ain’t nobody better at catching crooks than Levi.”

“Except Ethan.”

“Ah, shit...let’s don’t have this argument again.”

“Then don’t say your grandson is better than my son. And I told you not to cuss in my house.”

Henry shook his gray head. “You’re getting strange, Walt.”

“And you’re a baboon.”

“Stop using them stupid words you made up. If you mean bastard, say bastard.”

“You’re a hairy baboon with no manners.”

Henry slapped the table with one of his big paws. “That’s it. I’m going to the Rusty Spur to drink beer, play dominoes and cuss. Real cuss words that’ll burn your ears. Not some stupid ones I made up.”

“You better go then.”

“I’m going.” Henry shoved his worn hat onto his head and got to his feet. “I don’t understand why not cussing is so important to you.”

“Because Ethan asked me not to. He wants to have a good environment for his daughter.”

Henry leaned in and whispered, “She’s twelve. I know she’s heard cuss words.”

“It’s what Ethan wants and I’m doing it.”

“Well, don’t call me a baboon. That’s insulting. If you can’t say bastard, just call me Henry.”

“Goodbye, Henry.”

His friend tapped the table with his arthritic knuckles as if to make a point. “I’m sorry about Ethan.”

“I know.”

Henry ambled to the door and Walt took the glasses to the sink. Henry’s head was as hard as Walt’s, but they understood each other most of the time. If Henry thought not cussing was easy for him, then he’d better think again. Walt’s tongue was about to fall out of his mouth from sheer lack of use.

“Hey.”

Walt turned to see Kelsey standing there. As always, it took a moment for his eyes to adjust. His last good nerve snapped at the word hey. He pointed to a chair. “Sit down.”

She scurried to a chair and he sat facing her. “Let’s get something straight. Whether you like it or not, I’m your grandpa. You can call me Grandpa, Gramps, Pop or whatever you’re comfortable with, but you will not call me Hey. It’s disrespectful. You got it?”

She raised her head and looked at him, something she rarely did. Long black hair partially covered her face, but Ethan’s brown eyes stared back at him. “Yeah, but you will not call me girl, gal or alien. You will call me Kel or Kelsey.”

Damn! She’d heard him say that. His gut knotted tight with guilt.

“Deal.” He extended his hand across the table. It took a moment, but she finally shook it. “I apologize for calling you an alien. That was out of line. I give you my word as your grandfather I will never do that again.”

“Deal.” She nodded. “Did they find Ethan?”

“No. They arrested one of the robbers and they’re questioning him now. I’ll let you know if I hear anything.”

“Okay.” She stood and twisted on her flip-flops. “Can I have some ice cream?”

“Kelsey, this is your home now, and you can have any food we have.”

She shrugged. “I didn’t know. My grandma didn’t have a home and we lived with her older sister. She didn’t like me eating her food. When my grandma died, my mom and me lived in motels or rented rooms.”

Lordy, Lordy. What a life for a young girl—his granddaughter. A load of guilt hit him right between the eyes as powerful as a butt of a Colt .45. For Ethan’s daughter, he had to do better.

“You have a home now and can eat whatever you want.”

She opened the freezer, took out an ice-cream bar, and ran to her room.

Walt went out onto the deck and sank into a chair. Rowdy lay at his feet. He gazed past the chain-link fence to his pastureland. Cows lay in the shade of several big live oak trees out of the stifling heat. He’d check the water troughs later to make sure they had enough to drink. In this heat, they needed constant water. Wherever Ethan was, he prayed he wasn’t in the heat.

Walt leaned forward, bowed his head, and clasped his hands together. “Lord, I’ve been talking to You a lot in the past few hours and You might find that strange since I haven’t talked to You in years. Maureen, my wife, was a religious woman, and she talked to You daily. I figured that pretty much covered the bases for me. But there comes a time in a man’s life when he has to confront his maker alone. For me, that’s today. My boy’s been taken by some thugs. You probably know that, right? He’s a good man. You know that, too. He has a twelve-year-old daughter who needs him. I don’t know a thing about little girls, but I’ll do my best until You return Ethan to us. That’s all I’m asking, Lord. Watch over Ethan. Kelsey needs him. I need him, too. Thanks for listening.”

He got up and went back into the house with a purpose—to forge a bond with his granddaughter. It didn’t matter what she looked like on the outside. Inside she was a scared little girl needing a home, family and love. Wrestling a steer to the ground might be easier than reaching Kelsey. But grandpas didn’t give up. And that’s who he was—Grandpa.

* * *

THE LIGHT-HEADEDNESS CONTINUED and Abby floated in and out of the clouds. Ethan’s hand rested on her hip as they walked and she knew she was okay. Weird thoughts ran through her head. Had she told Ethan she’d been waiting for him all her life? No. She hadn’t said that out loud. She was almost positive. Besides, she’d only known him a few hours. But inside her heart was a certainty that their souls had connected.

Ethan stopped and she glanced up. They’d reached the small weatherworn wood cabin. There was nothing but dirt around it. What little grass had been there had died. It wasn’t as run-down as the other cabin, and a porch graced the front. She sank onto the stoop.

“Rest,” Ethan said. “I’ll check things out.”

She lay on the wood flooring, totally spent. Suddenly a slight breeze touched her skin. Opening her eyes, she sat up. The breeze continued. She pulled the wet blouse from her skin and fanned it. Heavenly. After a moment, her mind cleared.

“Ethan.”

He strolled from the side of the cabin. “What?”

“The wind.”

“Yeah. It’s picked up.” He glanced toward the sun. “It’s probably about seven o’clock and the sun is going down.”

“We get a break.”

“Yeah.” He eyed her. “Do you feel better?”

“Yes.” There was something different in his gaze. Was he worried about her? She cleared her dry throat. “Did you find anything?”

“There’s an old-timey well out back with a rope and a bucket. The bucket is cracked and the well handle’s rusted, but I’m hoping I can find something in the cabin to use for oil.”

She followed him inside. The flooring was sturdy and the roof hadn’t caved in like the other one. Bunk beds occupied two walls. Faded sheets were still on them. A small cabinet with a makeshift sink and window took up another wall. A refrigerator stood in a corner.

“Without electricity, how do they run a refrigerator?”

“They bring a generator.”

“Oh.”

Ethan opened drawers and cabinet doors. “Not much here. Must be why animals haven’t overrun this place.” He yanked wide the doors beneath the sink. “Wait. What’s this?” He pulled out a large plastic container. “Peanut oil. Not much left, but it should be enough.” He reached for something in the top cabinet. “This stoneware pitcher is heavy and has a handle. We might be able to use it for a bucket.”

She trailed behind him out the side door to the well. It looked like so many she’d seen in landscaped yards. Of course, this one was very rustic. But it had a roller bar across the top with a rope and a crank handle. The bucket lay on the ground, useless. The housing around the hole was made of wide, weatherworn boards. The opening was covered with a heavy-looking metal object.

Ethan took a small scrub brush from his pocket. She hadn’t even seen him remove it from the cabin. He poured peanut oil on it and began to scrub the rusty crank. The well was in the open and the sun showered them with waves of heat, but it wasn’t as intense. Sweat rolled from his face. He had to be exhausted, too, but he never stopped. She wanted to help him. Using her better judgment, though, she just watched, marveling at the muscles working in his arms and the total concentration on his face.

She could imagine him pursuing a killer with everything in him. She’d never been this impressed with anyone in her life. And she wasn’t delusional.

“Hot damn,” he shouted as the crank began to move. After more elbow grease it made a complete circle. Then another.

“It’s working,” she cried.

“All it took was a little muscle.”

“And you’ve got those.”

He gave her a dark-eyed glance.

“What?” She lifted an eyebrow. “Is that a secret?”

“Stop distracting me.” He continued to work the crank.

“Oh, I didn’t realize I was doing that.”

He turned to face her. “One minute you’re half-conscious and the next you’re flirting.”

“I am not flirting,” she insisted.

“Whatever.” He went back to working on the well.

Maybe she was flirting, but he didn’t have to be so grouchy. And he wasn’t really as grouchy as he appeared. She knew that now. He was a nice guy with a big heart, which he kept hidden with his brusqueness. Ethan was one of the good guys. Even knowing that didn’t keep her from getting mad at him.

“Okay.” Ethan sank to the ground with the pitcher and the end of the rope. “The rope isn’t thick, so that’s good. The trick is to tie the rope to keep the pitcher from tilting. It has a narrow neck and a rounded bottom. If I tie to the handle, it will tilt. The best bet would be to use the narrow neck.”

He was talking to himself. She’d allow him that foible. After looping the rope around the neck, he tied a knot and then another.

“Is the rope strong?” she asked.

“I’m hoping. I pulled to test it and it didn’t break.” He placed the pitcher aside and got to his feet. “I have to remove the lid.”

“Can you? It looks heavy.”

With a wicked glint in his eyes, something she thought she would never see from him, he said, “That’s what these muscles are for.” And to dispel the notion that he might be flirting, he added, “Besides, I removed it earlier.”

He plucked off the heavy cover as if it weighed no more than a board. Placing it against the well housing, he stuck his head over the open hole and took a deep breath. “Ah, I smell water.”

“Water doesn’t smell.”

“Stick your nose over here, Ms. Doubtful.”

She leaned over and took a whiff. Her whole body vibrated with yearning. “Oh, oh, Ethan. There’s water. Hurry! We have to bring it up. I’m dying for a drink.”

“Patience.” He removed his shirt and attempted to wipe dust from the rope.

“Will that do any good? Your shirt is dirty and sweaty.”

“The well probably has bacteria in it anyway and cleaning the rope with a dirty shirt was the lesser of two evils I was thinking.”

“How will we know if it has bacteria?”

“When we get sick.”

“Oh, great.”

“But we don’t have much choice. Without water, we can’t survive in this heat.”

Abby licked her parched lips. “Let’s do it.”

Ethan laid his shirt on top of the cover and picked up the pitcher. With one hand he lowered it into the well hole and cranked it lower with the other hand. “Keep your fingers crossed the rope doesn’t break.”

Abby crossed her fingers, held her breath and watched the pitcher disappear into the dark hole.

“We’ve hit water,” Ethan said. “We’ll give it a minute to fill and then I’ll pull it up.”

Slowly he cranked the pitcher upward. “It’s heavier so it must be full.” When it reached the top, he reached out and grabbed the neck of the pitcher. Water spilled onto his hand. Her heart beat so fast she could barely breathe. He handed the pitcher to her and she took a sip and then a gulp.

He grabbed the pitcher. “Hey, go slow. You’ll make yourself sick.”

She sank to the ground. Even though she wanted to guzzle it, she sipped and sipped. Handing it to him, she sighed. “Heaven. Pure heaven.”

He eased down by her and sipped until the water was gone. “This is better than sex.”

“You think so?”

He lifted an eyebrow. “At this exact moment, yes.” He stood to refill the pitcher and she wondered about his sex life. Someone as virile as Ethan had to have a regular girlfriend. Or maybe not. Considering what had happened to him, he was probably very choosy about whom he slept with. And she had a feeling Ethan didn’t stay around for much sleeping.

He filled the pitcher three times. The third time they didn’t drink much. Ethan poured the last bit over his head. Water ran down his face and onto his chest. Droplets clung to swirls of dark chest hairs. Without thinking, without judging herself, she leaned over and licked the drops from his warm skin.

He stiffened. She didn’t stop.

She licked up his chest to his strong chin. His skin tasted of salt, sweat and granules of sand. But it wasn’t off-putting. Just the opposite. It was the most sensual experience her mouth had ever encountered. The tip of her tongue throbbed from the taste, texture and sensuality of him.

“Ab-by.”

Her lips touched his. He groaned, cupped her face and kissed her as she’d never been kissed before. His lips were strong, powerful and she didn’t weaken under the onslaught to her senses. She reveled in it, meeting his fervor with her own. She ran her hands along the strong muscles in his shoulders and neck.

The kiss went on and on. He held her head in place as he ravaged her lips and spiked her blood pressure. His thumbs stroked her jawline and she purred like a satisfied cat. The sound startled her until she realized it was her.

Slowly, he released her. “We have to stop this.”

“Yes,” she replied, but inside she was wanting much more.

“Look.” He waved a hand. “The sun has gone down.”

While they’d been otherwise engaged, it certainly had. A yellow glow invaded the woods.

“It will be completely dark soon, so we have to find a place to bed down.” He stood, placed his T-shirt over one shoulder and fitted the lid over the well. He placed the pitcher on top.

She followed him into the almost completely dark cabin. “My stomach is complaining and I’m starving.”

“It’s the cool water on an empty stomach. It’s reminding you of how empty it is. Try not to think about it.” Handing her his shirt, he tested one of the mattresses. “They seem okay. It’s better than sleeping on the ground.” He dragged one outside and placed it on the porch and then went back for another. He situated them about twelve feet apart, making it more than clear that kissing wasn’t happening again.

He plopped onto a mattress, removed his shoes, and stretched out. “Ah, this feels good. I can get a good night’s rest.”

“You’re kidding, right? Snakes could be inside the mattresses.”

“I’m exhausted and going to sleep. You can stand guard and watch out for snakes.”

“Ethan.”

“Mmm.”

“What do you want me to do with your shirt?”

“Lay it out on the floor to dry.”

“I’m not your maid.”

“Fine. Throw it to me.”

She aimed for his face and he caught it effortlessly. Darkness crept around them, hiding the dry, parched earth. The only illumination was the moon, which hung high in the sky like a huge night-light. She slid down to the mattress and tested it. Bouncy and soft. That was good.

Slipping off her shoes, she tried to relax. She was being testy for no reason. That was Ethan’s department, but his cavalier attitude about their out-of-this-world kiss annoyed her. He acted as if it was just another kiss. It wasn’t. Or was it? She drew a deep breath. Due to the circumstances, she was blowing this way out of proportion. And being a complete bitch, she couldn’t let it go.

“Are you seeing someone?”

After a long moment, he replied, “No.”

“I’m not either, if that matters.”

“It doesn’t.”

“I thought you might be feeling guilty.”

“I’m not. Now, go to sleep.”

“I’m not sleepy.”

“Lie down and close your eyes. That’s what most people do.”

She thought of doing that, but her mind was filled with thoughts about the day, the heat, Ethan and the night. Not to mention her dad and Chloe. She hoped her dad wasn’t worried too much. How could he not be? His only child had been taken hostage in a bank robbery.

The warm wind brushed across her face, reminding her that she was alive. And soon her dad would know that, too. With water, there was no doubt they could make it to safety. She’d say goodbye to Ethan and they’d go their separate ways.

She touched her lips and remembered the kiss. Maybe she could say goodbye in another way. Did she have that much nerve?

“Ethan.”