Читать книгу Back In Texas - Roxanne Rustand - Страница 11

THE MOMENT KRISTIN opened the door of her aunt RaeJean’s beauty salon, she knew it was a mistake to stop by on a busy Saturday morning…especially with Cody in tow.

“Lord almighty!” RaeJean Barker exclaimed, tossing aside her comb and brush. “Aren’t you just as cute as a sack full o’ puppies today?”

Cody cringed against Kristin’s side and tried to wiggle away, but RaeJean was faster.

She barreled up to him, gave his shoulders an affectionate squeeze, then tapped under his chin with one crimson-tipped fingernail. “And aren’t them just the prettiest eyes? Just like your momma’s.” She winked at him as she pulled a shiny fifty-cent piece out of the pocket of her pink uniform jacket. Flipping it high in the air, she caught it and offered it on her outstretched palm. “You look like a cowboy in need of a Coke.”

He stared up at her, his mouth open, and Kristin prayed he wouldn’t comment on RaeJean’s flamered curls or turquoise eye shadow. She was, undoubtedly, the most colorful person he’d ever seen.

“Can you say thanks?” Kristin prodded.

He mumbled something and dropped his gaze to his Nike runners, his ears pink.

RaeJean beamed her approval as she hiked a thumb toward the back of the salon. “Minifridge is back there. Or you can go to the vending machine next door, right in front of the saddle shop. They got more flavors, but it’s not near as cold.”

Cody nodded shyly, then shuffled across the room as if he were crossing enemy territory.

No wonder.

Nothing much had changed here since Kristin’s childhood. Fluffy pink curtains hung at the windows, pink flamingo wallpaper still covered the walls. Ornate, gold-framed mirrors topped the two cluttered workstations, matching the heavy gold wall sconces and frames on the pictures of outdated hairstyles.

The explosion of baroque decorations and bawdy femininity, coupled with the sharp scents of bleach and perm chemicals, nearly took Kristin’s own breath away.

She glanced over the row of women settled under the six dryers at the back of the room, who were watching them with avid interest. Women who, when they walked out the door, would be wearing identical, tightly curled helmets reminiscent of the 1960s. Whatever the request, RaeJean always proceeded to do exactly what she thought best, and that was the one style she did for “women of a certain age.”

Which explained, unfortunately, the number of do-it-yourself haircuts in town and the exodus of the well-to-do to the upscale shops in San Antonio.

“Um…maybe Cody and I should stop back later. I thought you’d be closing about now.”

“Lordy, no. Had a full schedule this morning and Carlita didn’t show up—morning sickness, she says.” RaeJean lowered her voice to a stage whisper. “I figure she decided to sleep late and go off for the day with that fool husband of hers. Ain’t two ways about it, that girl is on her last chance at the Snip and Curl.”

“I think,” Kristin murmured, hiding a smile at the reverent tone RaeJean always used for the name of her shop, “that you were saying the same thing when I was in town for my daddy’s funeral going on two years ago.”

Her hands on her ample hips, RaeJean snorted. “Meant it then, and I mean it now.” Behind her, a timer buzzed, but she waved away the sound as if it were an annoying fly and fixed a stern eye on Kristin’s shoulder-length hair. “Now, what can I do for you? You need a cut? Some style?” She reached out and ran a hand through Kristen’s silky, straight strands that had defied a lifetime of effort to add curls, waves and even the tidiness of a smooth chignon. “A good perm and some color would brighten you right up. Need something more lively than just strawberry blond, I think.”

Cody’s eyes widened with obvious fascination as he came back in with a Coke and glanced between RaeJean’s bouffant, Technicolor Big Texas Hair, and Kristin’s own simple style.

“Um…not today. You’re really busy, and I need to run.” When RaeJean’s appraisal didn’t waiver, Kristin took a step back. “And I’m just a wash-and-wear sort of girl. Really.”

RaeJean cocked her head. “Was there something else? You need help out at that place of yours?” Her face brightened. “I’d be happy to give you some decorating advice. Curtains—wallpaper—you name it.”

Cody sidled next to Kristin and tugged anxiously on the back of her shirt, undoubtedly envisioning flamingos and ruffles at their rustic place in the country.

“I think we’re set on that score, but thanks for the offer.” Behind her, a silver bell tinkled over the door and someone stepped inside. Over her aunt’s shoulder, Kristin saw one of the customers impatiently drumming her fingernails on the arm of her dryer chair. “I do need to talk to you, though. I’ve tried and tried to reach Aunt Nora, but she doesn’t answer her phone, and I’m just afraid…” She glanced down at Cody. “Well, I just need to talk to her before she does anything…big.”

RaeJean nodded decisively, snagged Kristin’s arm and hauled her forward. “Family first, I always say. You two sit here for just a minute. I need to do a fast comb-out, turn off that dryer, and I’ll be back.” She smiled at the newcomer. “Ruth, just set yourself down and have a cup of coffee. You’re a mite early, anyway.”

RaeJean bustled away, checked each head of hair under a dryer, and scurried back to the woman sitting in one of the styling chairs.

Kristin hovered at the entryway for a moment.

“C’mon, Mom. Let’s go.” Cody begged. “The first football practice starts in an hour!”

“And it’s just on the edge of town. This won’t take long, I promise.” She gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, then smothered a sigh as she sank into one of the pink plastic chairs in the tiny waiting area. Cody stubbornly stood at the door, his lower lip jutting out and his hands jammed in his pockets.

The diminutive woman at the door strolled to the back of the shop and returned with two cups of coffee, handed one to Kristin and settled her thin frame into a chair in the corner. She tipped her head toward the ledge under the window facing the street. “There’s cream and sugar packets over there in the pink basket.”

“Thanks. Black is fine.”

The woman chuckled. “You might change your mind. RaeJeans’s coffee could eat rust off a truck, but leastways it’s hot.”

Kristen took in her pale skin and faded, silver-streaked blond hair. There was a sharp, observant glint in her eyes as she curved a bony hand around her coffee cup for a quick sip and studied Kristin over the rim. She seemed vaguely familiar, though Kristin couldn’t place her.

The woman cocked her head, as if she, too, were trying to remember, then she sat back in her chair with a satisfied smile. “I’m Ruth Holden. My husband is the rector at St. Mark’s Episcopal.” She pursed her lips. “I’ll bet you’ve come here for the land giveaway.”

Kristin laughed. “Good guess.”

“I’ve been on the Home Free Committee since last fall, and we’ve already had some nice young families move into the area I think I must’ve seen your photo in that first batch of applications. In fact, I’ll bet you’re—” she pursed her lips for a moment, apparently searching her memory “—Kristin and Cody Peters?”

She leaned forward and offered her hand. “My husband had a light stroke last spring and was hospitalized in Austin for several weeks, so I wasn’t at your interview.”

“I hope he’s doing well.”

“He’s a strong man, determined as can be. He was back in the pulpit within three weeks after coming home.” Ruth’s voice filled with pride. “For over forty years, nothing has mattered to him more than the moral welfare of his flock.”

Until her parent’s divorce, Kristin and her mother had gone to a little Methodist church out on Pecan Street, though her father had refused to attend anywhere. She vaguely remembered a childhood friend talking about her hellfire-and-brimstone Episcopal priest. “I’m sure the congregation is very lucky to have him,” she murmured.

“Indeed they are.” Settling back into her chair, Ruth took another sip of her coffee. “I want you to know how pleased the Committee is to see all of you young folks moving into town. Just this month, we brought in a husband and wife who are teachers, a young fellow with a new degree in nursing, and a family planning to raise goats and sheep on fifty acres west of town. You must be the physician’s assistant who’ll be running the local health clinic.”

Despite occasional visits to Homestead to see her father over the years, the easy familiarity of the small town still caught Kristin unawares. In Dallas and Austin, she’d barely known her neighbors, and people had rarely stopped to chat.

She nodded. “The land deal is a wonderful opportunity. We’re not actually both the Peters, though. Cody kept his father’s last name after my divorce, but last summer I finally decided to go back to my maiden name. Cantrell.”

“Divorced?” Ruth blinked, her mouth working. She visibly drew back into herself. “But I thought…”

“I’m sure it was clear on my application.”

Ruth brought her hand up to her mouth. “A-and you said Cantrell?”

“That’s right.” Kristin rose and caught Cody’s hand. “My dad was Nate Cantrell.”

Her brow furrowed, Ruth looked from the boy to Kristin. So it was happening again. That flash of recognition, the moment of prejudgment.

Maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea to come back here, after all.

“I should have recognized you,” Ruth said faintly.

“I was just ten when I left with my mom. When I came to see my dad, he was usually out working on one ranch or another, and we rarely ever made the long trip into town.”

“I see. It isn’t…I mean…” Her cheeks flushed pink. “It’s just…”

Mindful of Cody’s heightened interest in the conversation, Kristin gave his hand a quick squeeze. “I think we’d better get moving, Tiger, so we aren’t late for that practice. I’ll just try calling RaeJean later.”

At the door, she urged him outside, and then turned back toward the flustered woman. “I’m sorry if I’ve upset you.”

“No…I mean, yes…” The color in the older woman’s cheeks betrayed her struggle for tact.

“Whatever you may have thought about him, I do know my father had a good heart.” Kristin held the woman’s gaze. “I’m here because I’m good at what I do, this town needs me, and because I need a new start for my son. My last name should make no difference at all.”

Ruth’s mouth tightened. “You misunderstand me, dear. The Almighty sits in judgment, not me. But…there are people who still blame your father for how things changed around here. They might not be so ready to forgive.”

IT’S GOOD TO HAVE YOU back in Texas, son.” Leland Havens clapped Ryan on the shoulder, then winced in sympathy as Ryan flinched. “Sorry. I didn’t think. How’re you doing, now? Better?”

“Fine.” Ignoring the pain radiating down his arm, Ryan took a step back and hooked his thumbs in the front pockets of his Levi’s.

The years had been kinder to Clint than they’d been to his lifelong friend. Deep creases lined Leland’s cheeks, his hair had thinned to a few long wisps on top. His once imposing, elegant frame no longer stood quite as tall. The man had been Ryan’s boyhood mentor, and had once seemed as ageless as the massive live oaks lining the drive. Now, surely in his late sixties, he’d aged beyond his years and his mortality was all too apparent.

“I’m glad you could drop in so soon. I imagine a young buck like you would rather spend a Saturday morning on horseback or out on a golf course, eh?”

He waved Ryan to a chair in the corner of his office, motioned to his secretary from the open doorway, and then sat next to Ryan. “I suppose Garrett hightailed it off to some rodeo for the weekend?”

“He left late Wednesday for Billings.” Without so much as a fast hello and goodbye for the eldest brother he’d once followed around like an orphan pup.

Leland eyed Ryan thoughtfully. “Nothing his daddy says gets through to him. He’s heading for a full-body cast if he doesn’t quit chasin’ bulls and gold buckles every weekend.”

“And the little buckle bunnies, from what Trevor says. I understand Garrett’s been busy leaving a trail of broken hearts from Canada to Houston.”

“I keep warning him to be careful. All we need is one avaricious gal who knows the Gallagher name, and the potential for a paternity suit and bad press shoots to the moon.”

A valid concern, Ryan supposed. With that deep-dimpled, aw-shucks grin and devilish twinkle in his eye, Garrett had always been a charmer. He’d usually gotten exactly what he wanted while making others feel happy to hand it over.

“At least Trevor is well settled,” Leland continued. “Nice wife, kids.”

“And works his tail off, from what I’ve seen so far.”

Leland took a pair of half reading glasses from the breast pocket of his coat, settled them low on his nose, then studied Ryan over the rim. “He’s a good hands-on manager. He knows cattle, horses, people.”

“But…?” Ryan raised a brow.

“He doesn’t have the skills or the foresight to handle the broader picture. We just need to get past the Nate Cantrell incident, put the ranch affairs back in order and hire a permanent manager.”

“Well, my skills aren’t exactly current, unless Dad needs a sniper with an M4 guarding the ranch.”

A portly secretary dressed in a severe black skirt and jacket marched in with a tray of coffee cups and a small coffeepot. After settling the tray on the end table between them, she bustled out, closing the door firmly behind her.

Leland leaned forward to hand Ryan a cup, then cradled the other one in both hands and smiled at him affectionately. “Your brothers wanted you here, so look at this as a chance to rest up, after all you’ve been through.” He paused. “You’ve given enough of your life to the service. With your business degree, you could head for Chicago or New York, if you want something besides cedars, sand and sagebrush in your backyard.”

“I’m still on active duty. I plan to go back as soon as I can.”

Leland’s sympathetic gaze drifted to Ryan’s knee as he put his cup down. “Maybe you’d like to, but—”

Ryan struggled to curb his irritation. “After surgeries and rehab, they’re even able to return some amputees to the front lines. I’ll go back, even if I have to be an instructor.”

“Of course, of course.” Leland lifted his hands in a placating gesture. “Forgive me.”

Ryan winced. Leland had always kept the best interests of the Gallaghers at heart, and he certainly didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of Ryan’s unpredictable bitterness. “No…the apology should be mine.”

Clasping his hands loosely in his lap, Leland leaned back and gave Ryan a fatherly smile. “That time when you got your first Purple Heart, a few years ago? There was mention of it at a high school graduation assembly. After that, at least five elementary classrooms started sending letters and gift boxes to servicemen in Iraq.” He shook his head in wonderment. “Townsfolk filled those collection boxes to overflowing.”

Surprised and a little embarrassed, Ryan looked away. “At least some good came out of it. I didn’t realize anyone even knew.”

Leland laughed. “Then you probably don’t remember the Niebauers, who run the Herald. Millicent isn’t bigger than a minute, but she’s got a nose for news and the tenacity of a bulldog. Though, come to think of it, she didn’t get wind of your injuries a few months ago. Just the Purple Heart.”

“So how bad are things out at the ranch—really?”

“Really?” He shook his head slowly. “Up until a few years ago, your father watched over both his political career and the ranch with a sharp eye. Nothing got past that man—nothing. Then his vision started failing, but of course being Clint, he never let on. We know Nate got away with at least sixty grand, but the books are such a mess that it could be double that, easily.”

“Pretty much what Trevor said…and what I found in the forensic accountant’s report.”

“Clint may be snarling about your arrival, but I’m sure he’s angrier at himself than he is at anyone else. Once he simmers down, he’ll be grateful.”

“So I’m just supposed to reorganize the bookkeeping system?” Ryan sighed. “That’s something a good office manager would do.”

“Not with Clint bird-dogging every last step of the way…and it’s not just the bookkeeping, either. You could revamp the hunting lease program, and maybe work on marketing angles that will get it moving. I’m not sure but that the quarter horse and beef cattle programs won’t need some work, as well.” Leland grabbed a legal pad on his desk, ran a forefinger down a list of notes, then set the pad back down. “Whatever you can do while you’re here will help the new manager who follows you. I’ll assist in any way I can.”

“And the missing money?”

“Honestly, it’s a lost cause.” Leland splayed his fingers on his thighs. “But if you come across anything—any clues whatsoever—let me know immediately. I’ll get the private investigator on it right away.” Leland studied Ryan over the rim of his glasses again. “The corporation needs that money back, but this situation can’t get out to the press or the sheriff’s office—either way, news will spread. Clint’s political rivals would have a heyday crowing about him ‘allowing’ his own business to end up in such disarray. This next election will likely be his last, and there are still issues that mean a great deal to him.”

“Right.” Ryan shifted in his chair, wishing he’d taken a couple Tylenol before leaving the ranch. “After all this time, the horses are out of the barn, anyway.”

“The loss came at a bad time. Remember the K-Bar-C?”

“The Braxton place. Shares part of our eastern property line.”

“Place went up for auction twelve years ago. A group of locals formed a consortium, bought it and also picked up some smaller properties to create KC Enterprises. Every one of those investors had dreams of making big money. Some of them poured their life savings into the deal, some mortgaged their own property to scrape enough money together.”

The K-Bar-C… “Trevor filled me in on some of this already, and I do know Dad and Braxton weren’t the best of friends,” Ryan mused. “Clyde’s place was upstream on the aquifer that supplies the Four Aces, and I vaguely remember Dad ranting about water rights.”

“Which is why he wanted to buy out Braxton for years. We put together one offer after another, but Braxton hung on to it until he died in his late 80s—out of sheer spite, Clint figured. The heirs scrabbled over the estate and ultimately ran it into bankruptcy. It came up for auction when I was out East for a couple months and your dad was in the middle of some big tussle in the State Senate. It sold to a group of locals.”

“I can imagine how happy he was when he heard the news too late.”

“You have no idea,” Leland retorted. “Then just a year ago, the consortium folded. Crazy idea anyway, if you ask me. Drought hit. Mad Cow drove cattle prices down. The partners were up to their ears in debt and way behind on taxes.”

“So Dad—”

“This time he knew about it. But he was cash poor, especially after so much money was embezzled. He couldn’t pull a down payment together quick enough, and the town council foreclosed on the property. They’re using it for that homesteader program, bringing in more families to grow the town. Your father is still furious, and he’s had nearly a year to adjust.”

“Homesteads?”

“At very low-cost loans that mostly just cover the back taxes, with no down payment. If all goes according to plan, there’ll be hundreds of families sitting on top of that aquifer, drawing water away.” Leland pursed his lips. “The sheriff is on the Home Free committee, along with Frances Haase, the town librarian, Father Holden’s wife, mayor Miranda Wright and Enfield.”

“Enfield. I can imagine what Dad thinks about that.”

Leland pushed himself to his feet and started to pace. “Local politics are small potatoes to your father, of course, but those two have been rivals since they were kids. He probably thinks the entire land giveaway deal was Arlen’s scheme to irritate him. It wasn’t, though. Miranda came up with the idea and sold everyone else on it.”

“I was out riding yesterday and ran across a boy in our east pasture. I figured his family was just renting the old Cedar Grove place.”

“Nope. You just met your neighbors. Permanent neighbors, that is. There’ll be a lot more coming. And a lot of the property adjoins the Four Aces.”

“The boy was Kris Cantrell’s son.”

Leland’s jaw dropped. “She’s back? Does your father know?”

“That Nate’s daughter is in town? Yes. That she’s a neighbor? I have no idea. I suppose there’s been some sort of notice in the local papers about the homestead awards, but he spends a lot of time in Austin.”

Leland whistled. “Damn.”

“Well, I don’t think she was any happier about seeing me that I was to see her.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw as Leland drummed his fingers on his thigh. “I know you two were close once. She was a pretty little thing, but Clint said she was bad news.”

How much had Dad told him, all those years ago?

“I’m old enough to take care of myself, this time around,” Ryan shot back.

Once burned, twice shy, his mother had said more than once over the years, and she was right.

He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.