Читать книгу The Cowboy's Texas Family - Margaret Daley - Страница 12

Chapter One

Nick McGarrett marched into Fletcher Snowden Phillips’s law office in Haven, Texas. It was time the man stepped up and helped a member of his family. Fletcher’s secretary looked up and frowned. As Nick crossed to her desk, he glanced at his mud-splattered jeans and boots. When he’d received a tearful call from Corey Phillips, a ten-year-old second cousin of Fletcher’s, Nick had come straight from replacing a section of a fence on his ranch.

Nick owed Corey’s older brother, Doug. When they’d gone on their last mission together, Nick had promised his combat buddy that after he left the service he would watch out for Corey until Doug could. At the time Nick had thought it would be only a few months until Doug returned home. His friend was killed in that mission by a sniper. Young Corey looked like Doug, who’d always had Nick’s back when they had gone on assignments together.

Nick fixed his gaze on Nancy Collins, hoping it would convey his determination. “I need to see Fletcher now.” He’d lost all patience with the man.

Both of the secretary’s eyebrows rose, and her chin came up a notch. “Do you have an appointment?”

He peered at the closed door to Fletcher’s inner office—shut tightly like the lawyer’s heart. Although she probably knew the answer, Nick said, “No.”

“I can schedule one for next week. He’s leaving soon.”

“That’s okay.” Nick tipped the brim of his brown Stetson and then pivoted and strode into the corridor.

He planted himself against the wall, reclining back with his arms crossed. He was going to talk to the man one way or another. It was in times like this that Nick wished he had enough money to help Fletcher’s cousin financially. All he could do was be there for the ten-year-old who lived twenty miles away in a small town on the other side of Waco.

Today Corey had thought his dad was dead. Nick tried to go over to the small, dilapidated house whenever the boy called. If he couldn’t, Nick would call Mrs. Scott, who lived next door, to help. Today he’d been worried he wouldn’t make it in time if something worse had happened to Ned Phillips than drinking too much alcohol. Thankfully the older woman had stayed with Corey, assuring the child that his father would wake up, which he finally did. Truth be told, Corey shouldn’t even be living with his alcoholic father, who left the child practically to raise himself. Nick had been there as a kid and knew how hard that was.

The door to the office opened, and Fletcher came out.

Nick pushed himself off the wall and stepped in the man’s path. “We need to talk.”

“I don’t have time.”

Fletcher, tall with an imposing paunch, tried to skirt around Nick. He didn’t weigh as much as the lawyer, but his body was muscular from hard work. Fletcher’s idea of exercise was walking to and from his luxury car. Nick blocked his path. “Make time.”

Fletcher scowled. “Is this about Corey again?”

“Yes. You’re his closest relative. If you don’t want to take the boy and raise him, then at least help Ned buy food and clothing.” Nick nearly choked on the first part of the sentence. Fletcher wasn’t good father material either.

“I’m not giving Ned a cent. All he would do is buy more liquor. I’m a bachelor. I always have been. I wouldn’t know the first thing about raising a child. Check with Family and Protective Services. That’s their job.” Fletcher quickly sidestepped and charged down the hall, leaving Nick fuming.

As if he hadn’t tried contacting the authorities. The underfunded and overworked Family and Protective Services had more urgent cases to deal with.

Nick took several deep, calming breaths and then followed Fletcher outside to the parking lot. The wind held a fierce chill even for early January. As the lawyer drove away, Nick hurried his pace and welcomed what warmth still lingered in the cab of his old truck.

When Nick had first returned to Haven after being in the army, serving overseas in a war zone, Fletcher had said the same thing—that it was the county’s problem, not Fletcher’s.

Painful memories from the war zone inundated Nick. It had been over a year since he’d returned home to Haven. Too many comrades had died. He didn’t understand why there was so much death and hatred. At first he had prayed, but when he lost one friend while Nick was trying to save his life, he’d stopped talking to God. The Lord obviously wasn’t listening.

As Nick left Main Street and the small downtown area, he passed Fletcher parking his car in front of his large antebellum home a few miles outside of Haven. The large three-story house overshadowed everyone else’s place nearby. Although he came from a family with a long ranching history, Fletcher didn’t live on more than two acres of land. According to Fletcher, ranching was manual labor and beneath him.

The sun near the western horizon sent up streaks of yellow, orange and rose through the darkening blue sky. Even though sunset was less than a half hour away, Nick wore his sunglasses to keep the glare from impeding his driving. Through the last burst of brightness, he glimpsed a car coming toward him. The driver maneuvered it to the shoulder of the two-lane highway and then came to a stop.

As Nick approached, he eased up on the gas. The other car’s emergency lights began flashing. A blond-haired woman opened the car door, swung her long legs around and stood. Standing partially on the road in four-inch heels, she glanced at him as he passed her. He made a U-turn and parked not a yard behind her. The chilly wind blew even stronger than before. The moisture-laden air would produce snow later tonight.

Nick climbed from his truck and strolled toward the lady using her expensive sports car as a shield from the cold northern blast.

“Not for two hours? It’s getting dark.” Her throaty voice with a Southern drawl rose in panic. “I’m in the middle of nowhere.” She paused while the person on the other end said something and then she sighed heavily. “Fine. Seven thirty or eight.” She disconnected and jammed her phone into her leather coat’s pocket.

Her gaze clashed with his, and she backed up against her car door. “I know how to defend myself, mister.”

“Against what? The cold? That short leather jacket won’t keep you warm.” His look skimmed her length, taking in her bare legs and the skirt that came to her knees. She had to be passing through. She had city gal stamped all over and, by the looks of her Corvette, was rich too. It wasn’t that he thought anyone would harm her, but he couldn’t leave her stranded for two hours waiting for a ride from whomever she was talking to.

“When I left Mobile this morning, it was a balmy sixty-five degrees and climbing to eighty until I began heading north in Houston.”

“A cold front is pushing through. If you don’t want to wait, I can drive you to Haven, the nearest town. I know Slim, who owns the garage. Or if you ran out of gas, I can bring you back some. You’re only five miles from Haven.”

She straightened. “I didn’t run out of gas. I have over half a tank. My check-engine light came on when I left Interstate 45. I was praying I could make it to Haven without a problem.”

“Haven?” Why? Who was she visiting? She’d fit in about as well as a fox in a hen house.

“I like a small town. Waco is too big.”

“And you’re from Mobile?” The last time he checked, Mobile was classified as a city.

“South at Gulf Shores. The pace is a little quieter. I noticed you were heading out of town. I’d hate to take you out of your way.” The woman hugged her arms close to her body while she pretended she wasn’t freezing.

“I don’t live too far from here. A few extra miles won’t make any difference.” His horses could wait, and after he dropped her off, he’d call Corey and decide if he needed to see him in person tonight or if he could wait until tomorrow.

“I hate to be a bother.”

In a short time darkness had totally blanketed the landscape, the only illumination coming from his headlights. He didn’t want to leave her alone on the road. There was little crime in the area, but if something happened to her, he’d have a hard time forgiving himself. “It’s up to you. But after sundown, it’s going to get a lot colder fast.” He held out his hand. “By the way, I’m Nick McGarrett.”

The woman shook it. “I’m Darcy Hill. And if you’re sure you have the time to go back into town, then I’d appreciate a ride to the garage. I have a reservation at the Blue Bonnet Inn.”

Reservations? The inn was more of a bed-and-breakfast and did a brisk business in the spring, summer and fall. It was well-known in the state for its hospitality and luxurious accommodations, but in the winter it might be half full at its best. “It’s not far from Slim’s, right off the main street. You might want to get your luggage. Slim will have to tow your car to Haven, and since it’s close to quitting time, he probably won’t take a look under the hood till morning.”

“After being on the road eleven hours, all I want to do is eat and sleep. I can call my auto service back and cancel if you’re sure.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll put your luggage in the back of my truck.”

She withdrew her key fob from her pocket and clicked it. The trunk popped open. “I also have some pieces in the passenger seat.”

Nick stared at the back area of her sports car, every inch crammed with her belongings. While he emptied the trunk—two suitcases and some soft bags—Darcy took out a couple more pieces from the front seat. “How long are you staying?”

“Not sure yet. For a while.”

Nick carried the luggage to his truck. Who makes plans to come to Haven for an undetermined amount of time in the winter? The last city gal who came to Haven a while back was now buddy-buddy with Fletcher. They didn’t need another troublemaker like Avery Culpepper in town, even if Darcy Hill was pretty and sure to turn men’s heads.

* * *

Darcy settled herself in the passenger seat of the man’s beat-up truck, called her auto service and then put her cell phone in her purse. She patted the soft leather, reassuring herself that her handgun was still inside. Her dad had insisted she bring it on the long road trip. She was twenty-seven and lived in her own house not far from her parents’ estate in Alabama, but they still worried about her. She was their only child, adopted when she was a few weeks old. In her heart, Mom and Dad were her true parents. They had even supported her trip to Haven.

“Do you know anyone around here?” the cowboy asked as he started his pickup and pulled onto the highway.

“No.” Which was true, but she was hoping to get to know her biological father. She wasn’t sure whether she would approach him or not—especially since her birth mother had made it clear that she didn’t want to meet Darcy. Being rejected by her twice had been a blow. She didn’t want another rejection.

“Most people have a reason to visit Haven.”

She warmed her hands near a heat vent in the dashboard that put out an inadequate stream of hot air. “I’m not most people. When I was a child, I wanted to visit every state. I’ve been in Texas before, but it’s so big I felt I needed to divide it into sections to do it justice.” All technically true. As they neared Haven, she stared out the side window at the lights from a large antebellum house she knew belonged to her biological father. The private investigator who had located Fletcher Phillips had given her a photo of the man’s house, along with other pictures of him. She swung her gaze to Nick, the dim interior lights casting his ruggedly handsome features into the shadows but not concealing the strong slope of his jawline and the broad width of his shoulders. “Now that place makes me feel right at home. Who lives there?”

Nick tensed, his shoulders squaring. “Fletcher Phillips.”

His stern tone sent up red flags. “I get the impression you don’t care for the man. What does he do for a living?” She already knew that but didn’t want to appear suspicious.

“A lawyer,” he spat out as though it were a dirty word.

“You don’t like lawyers or just Fletcher Phillips?” A hard edge entered her words. She’d met her share of people who didn’t like any attorney until they needed one. She worked as one for Legal Aid.

“Not this one. He butts his nose in a situation he shouldn’t but ignores family members he should take care of.”

Darcy swallowed hard, her hand curling around the door handle. Had she made a mistake looking for Fletcher Phillips? Or catching a ride with Nick McGarrett? “Family members?”

Nick slid a glance at her. “You caught me at the wrong time. I just had a run-in with the man over helping his cousins.”

Although she couldn’t see his face completely, she sensed a softness in his expression. “Cousins?” Before coming to Haven, she’d investigated only her biological father, not anyone else who might be kin to her in this area. Now she wished she had dug a little deeper. She was curious about these other relatives. “Why do they need help?”

“Ned Phillips, Fletcher’s cousin, has no business being a father, especially to a young boy.”

Her curiosity grew. “Why?” Maybe she should leave now. No, she hadn’t come all this way to leave because of Nick’s opinion of Fletcher. There were always two sides to a situation. But she made a note to be more cautious about approaching Fletcher.

“Ned has a son, who he neglects—even leaves him alone, usually to go out to drink. Corey is only ten and shouldn’t have to take care of himself. I’ve tried to get Fletcher to at least help the boy.”

“And this Fletcher won’t?” Obviously it had been a good choice to come to town and scout the situation out first before she said anything to Fletcher Phillips—if she ever did. She wanted information, not a father. She already had a wonderful dad who loved her.

“It’s not his problem, according to Fletcher.”

So Fletcher doesn’t care about family? Darcy’s stomach tightened into a knot. She’d known from an early age that she was adopted but always felt as if she were Mom and Dad’s real daughter. They had never treated her any other way. So why set herself up for another disappointment by her birth parents?

“But Corey is your problem?” A lump lodged in her throat as she said the boy’s name. She’d dealt with enough legal cases that involved children, and she always fought for what was right for them. One day she hoped to have her own kids, and she wouldn’t abandon them the way her biological parents had. Although she had had a wonderful childhood with a loving, caring mom and dad, it looked like it could have been just as easily the opposite if she hadn’t been put up for adoption.

For a long moment silence reigned in the truck. Then the blare of a country and western song resounded through the cab.

Nick glanced down to see who was calling, and then he pulled over to the side of the road and answered it. “Mrs. Scott, is something wrong?”

The worry in his voice drew Darcy’s full attention. As he listened to the person who had called him, his features slashed into a frown. Something bad had happened. Who was Mrs. Scott?

“I’ll be right there. I’m glad the police are at Ned’s.”

When he disconnected, Darcy asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Corey is missing. I need to go and help look for him.”

Her cousin was missing! She couldn’t walk away from an opportunity to meet and help a relative, especially a ten-year-old boy. And it didn’t hurt that she would be with Nick McGarrett, an attractive—and caring—cowboy. “Let’s go. I’ll help.”