Читать книгу His Texas Runaway - Stella Bagwell - Страница 11
ОглавлениеChandler watched her eyes grow wide, her jaw drop. No doubt she was thinking he was some sort of pervert with a fetish for pregnant women. And he could hardly blame her.
It wasn’t like him at all to invite a woman, a stranger at that, to spend the night at his family home. In fact, he’d never done such a thing. Sure, he’d taken home plenty of strays to nurture. But none of those strays had been the two-legged kind with pretty brown eyes and a shy smile.
“Home—with you?” she asked, her voice little more than a squeak.
“I’m speaking as a doctor, Roslyn. You’ve just suffered a fainting spell. I’d feel better if you weren’t alone,” he reasoned.
Her head began to swing back and forth. “I don’t want to sound ungrateful, Mr. Hollister, but I don’t know the first thing about you.”
Lifting his hat from his head, he thrust a hand through his hair, then levered the hat back in place. His body was crying for food and a bed. But he was a long way off from either.
“Then I’ll tell you a few things. The Hollister family has lived in Yavapai County for more than a hundred and seventy years and have owned and operated Three Rivers Ranch for just as long. My younger brother Joseph is a deputy sheriff for the same county and my sister, Vivian, is a park ranger over at Lake Pleasant State Park. Holt, another younger brother, has the reputation of being one of the best horse trainers in the southwest. And our mother, Maureen, is tougher than all her kids put together.”
“Earlier, you mentioned your older brother, Blake. The ranch manager. I assumed he was the only sibling you had.”
The surprise in her voice suggested she wasn’t from a large family. He wanted to ask her if that was the case, but decided now was hardly the time.
“The Hollisters are a big family and we’re all very close. I failed to mention I have another younger sister besides Vivian. Camille is living in the southern part of the state on one of our other ranches, Red Bluff. As for Three Rivers, Blake and his wife and three children live there, along with me, Holt and Mom. Vivian and her daughter used to live there, too, but she married recently and moved up to Camp Verde. So you see, there will be plenty of chaperones around the place.”
“It sounds like you have a reputable family,” she said after a moment. “And it’s very hospitable of you to offer, but I’d feel like an intruder. A room in town will be perfectly fine.”
“Not if you start feeling ill and need help. Trust me, we have plenty of spare rooms in the ranch house. Along with a cook and a housekeeper. You won’t be an intrusion. Far from it. Mom loves company. We all do.”
She didn’t reply and Chandler could see she was softening to the idea.
“I’m a stranger to you,” she argued, but with far less enthusiasm. “For all you know I could be dishonest. A con woman or some evil person out to steal you blind.”
Long years of working with the public had taught Chandler all about people. Sometimes it wasn’t easy to see a person’s true character. Other times all it took was a look into their eyes. He’d spotted plenty of emotions in Roslyn’s brown eyes, but none of them had been close to sinister.
“You’re not a con woman. You’re alone and driving cross country, when you really should be home with your feet up,” he added pointedly.
She winced at his last remark and Chandler decided then and there that she was most likely running from someone. If it wasn’t the baby’s father, then it had to be someone who’d been putting pressure on her. He hated to think a lovely girl like her had reached such a point in her life. Moreover, if he was smart, he wouldn’t get involved with her, even for one or two nights. But Trey had hit the mark when he’d said that Roslyn seemed “kinda lost.” And Chandler was a sucker for any animal or person who needed to find their way back home.
“Okay,” she said, relenting. “I can see you’re a gentleman. And it would be nice to really rest for a night.”
Chandler was more than pleased at her answer. He was downright joyous. It was a reaction that had the sensible side of him silently cursing. What the hell was he thinking? He didn’t have time to concern himself with the welfare of a pregnant runaway.
Still, Chandler couldn’t keep a grin off his face. “Great. I’ll get busy locking up the clinic and then we’ll head on out to Three Rivers. While I take care of things you might want to visit the ladies’ room. It’s a long, bumpy ride to the ranch.”
“Thank you. I appreciate your thoughtfulness.”
He rose from the couch and offered her his hand. “Let me help you down the hall. I want to make sure you’re steady on your feet before I leave you on your own.”
She laughed. “If you’re this attentive to your animal patients, you must have a whopping business.”
The sound of her laughter was genuine and sweet, and eased some of the fatigue from Chandler’s weary body. “Let’s just say I can’t remember a day when my schedule wasn’t booked solid.”
With her little hand wrapped around his, he helped her from the couch and purposely kept a steadying hold on her elbow.
“Are you dizzy?” he asked. “Do your legs feel sturdy enough to support you?”
“Oh, yes. I’m feeling much stronger now. I can make it on my own.”
In spite of her insistence, he held on to her until they reached the door to the restroom. “Take your time,” he told her. “And when you’re finished, just wait for me up front in the waiting area.”
* * *
Fifteen minutes later, Roslyn was sitting in the passenger seat of Chandler’s truck. Her overnight case, filled with everything she needed for a night’s stay, was sitting behind her, on the back seat.
“Sorry about having to leave your car, Roslyn, but part of the road to Three Rivers is rather rough. I promise it will be safe parked behind the clinic. There are security cameras all around the property and I’ve never had anything vandalized or stolen. Besides, I really don’t think you’re up to driving another twenty or so minutes.”
Sighing, she rested her head on the back of the seat, while thinking how nice it felt to have this big, strong man handling everything for her. Even if it was just for this short evening.
“I’m not worried about my car. It’s covered with tons of insurance. Besides, once I get to where I’m going I plan to trade it in for something more practical.”
Roslyn had never wanted the Jaguar to begin with, but Martin, her father, had always insisted she had to drive a luxury car, not some cheap, middle-of-the-road compact. Otherwise, everyone would get the idea that the law offices of DuBose, Walker and Finley were going broke.
The idea had her silently snorting. If her father never earned another penny in his life, he’d still have an obscene amount of money stashed away in several banks. At the age of seventy he was still driven by his work, still obsessed with adding more power behind his name and seeing his fortune grow. But all the wealth or notoriety of Martin DuBose hadn’t been able to buy his wife’s health or to keep her from dying. Maybe someday he would realize that, she thought sadly. Perhaps one day he might regret the time he could’ve been spending with his wife and daughter, instead of in a courtroom.
Chandler said, “Everyone on Three Rivers has to be practical and drive a truck. After a while the rough road would shake a car to pieces.”
“Is your home that remote?” she asked.
“We have a few neighbors, but there are miles in between all of us.”
“I’ve always lived in the city.” She peered out at what little she could see from the path of the headlights. Now and then they passed groups of mesquite trees, or a ragged patch of prickly pear. Otherwise the countryside appeared open and bare. “I do wish it was daylight so I could see everything. This is the first time I’ve been in Arizona.”
“What do you think so far?”
“It’s beautiful. And rugged. And wild.”
He tossed a grin in her direction. “You left out hot. It gets as hot as hell here.”
“Well, Fort Worth isn’t exactly cool in the summer months.” She’d not meant to come out with that, but what the heck. It didn’t matter if Chandler knew where she was from. He wasn’t going to broadcast the information.
“I noticed the Texas plates on your car. I’ve been trying to figure out what part of the state you might be from. I know it’s so big that it’s referred to in regions. North, south, east and west. I know some folks from South Texas, but they don’t sound like you.”
“That’s right. I was born and raised in North Texas.”
“But now you’ve left. Any regrets?”
“There will be places and people I’ll miss,” she confessed. “But no. No regrets.”
“The Hollister family has been rooted here for so long I can’t imagine living anywhere else.”
“Your sisters must feel differently about that,” she said thoughtfully.
“Well, love changes some people. Vivian is happy to live on the reservation with her husband. Now Camille is just the opposite. She’s avoiding Three Rivers and Wickenburg because of a lost love. Or so she thinks.”
A lost love. After Erich gave her an engagement ring and vowed his undying devotion, Roslyn had discovered he’d had been seeing other women. And with that shocking discovery, she’d believed she’d lost the one love of her life. But soon afterward, she’d realized she’d not lost anything. Rather, she’d escaped making a giant mistake with a man who knew nothing about real love.
“Men think with their heads. Not their hearts,” she murmured more to herself than to him.
“Not always.”
That brought her head around, and as she studied his profile, which was illuminated by the dash panel lights, she wondered if he’d ever trusted his heart to a woman and had it broken. She couldn’t imagine him grieving over a broken romance. She could, however, imagine him having passionate sex without promises or strings attached.
“Are you married, Dr. Hollister?”
His short laugh was an answer in itself. “No. I barely have time to eat, much less see after a wife and kids.”
For some inexplicable reason, his response saddened her. It shouldn’t matter to her that this man was completely devoted to his career. “Well, it’s good that you know your limitations.”
“Hmm. I didn’t know I had limitations. I just thought I was a busy man.”
She forced herself to smile. “Sorry. You’ll have to overlook me. I’m rather tired and things aren’t coming out of my mouth exactly right.”
“Well, just a few more miles and we’ll be at Three Rivers. You can put up your feet and eat some of Reeva’s good cooking.”
Three Rivers. Each time he spoke the name it was like he was speaking of a place close to heaven. And for this one night that was exactly what she needed.
* * *
Fifteen minutes later, Chandler helped Roslyn into the house. After depositing her in a comfortable chair in the den, he went looking for his mother.
“Mom! Are you in here?” he called as he entered the large kitchen located at the back of the house.
Reeva, a tall slender woman in her early seventies with a long salt-and-pepper braid, was standing at the sink. She looked over her shoulder at him and frowned.
“You’re filthy and I’m shutting down the kitchen.”
“Tell me something I don’t know. Like where is Mom.”
“She’s down at the foaling barn with Holt. Better not go down there. You know that they’ll put you to work and you don’t look like you can stand on your feet much longer.”
After working on Three Rivers for too many years to count, Reeva was crusty and cranky and very astute.
“Well, I’m going to have to call her up here because I’ve brought company home with me. And I’m not sure where to put her.”
Reeva turned away from the sink to level a speculative glare at him. “Company? ‘Her’? Have you brought a mama dog home with you?”
“No. This is a girl. A pregnant girl.”
“Oh, Lord.”
At that moment, the back door of the kitchen opened and Maureen Hollister entered the room. She was dressed in her usual work attire, which consisted of jeans, a long-sleeved shirt and cowboy boots. Her chestnut hair was slightly threaded with silver and pulled into a ponytail at the back of her head. At sixty-three, she was ageless and beautiful. She was also the glue that held the Hollister family together.
“Mom, thank God, you’re here.” He crossed the room and latched on to her arm. “You have to come with me. There’s someone in the den waiting to meet you.”
As he pulled her out of the kitchen, Maureen shot him a comical look. “Son, please tell me you’re joking. I can’t deal with company tonight! We’ve been branding calves all day and then one of Holt’s mares, Tootsie, finally decided to give birth. And you know how he feels about that mare—you’d think his own child was being born. And—”
As they headed down a long hallway toward the den, Chandler pulled his mother to a halt. “Mom, I know it’s late. And I know you don’t need anything else to deal with tonight. But this girl—I just couldn’t leave her there at the clinic. She needs rest and a woman’s touch right now.”
Her expression softened. “Oh, Chandler. Don’t tell me you’ve brought home another stray.”
Rather than trying to explain, Chandler gave his mother a tired smile. “Just come to the den with me.”
When they entered the long room, Roslyn was sitting in an armchair with her back to them. But as soon as she heard their footsteps on the parquet floor, she rose to face them.
“Oh, my!” Maureen gasped. “You’re a woman!”
“What were you expecting, Mom?” Chandler asked wryly.
She slanted Chandler a reproving look. “A dog with pups. Or a pregnant cat. Or a mother raccoon with her kits.”
Leaving her son’s side, Maureen rushed over to Roslyn and reached for her hands. “Hello. I’m Maureen Hollister,” she said, introducing herself. “And you are?”
She smiled tentatively at his mother, “I’m Roslyn DuBose,” she said, then cast Chandler a hopeless look. “And I’m sorry to interrupt your evening like this. I tried to tell your son that I’d be an intrusion, but he insisted on bringing me out here.”
“Roslyn has been driving for long hours and she had a little fainting spell,” Chandler explained. “I thought she needed a quiet rest where someone would be around if she experienced another light-headed spell.”
Roslyn continued to look apologetic and Chandler wondered if she was unaccustomed to asking people for help. Or maybe she simply felt awkward because she was among strangers. Either way, Chandler wanted her to trust him and his family. She needed to understand she was safe here.
She glanced at Maureen. “I could’ve gone to a motel, Mrs. Hollister, believe me.”
Maureen immediately wrapped a supportive arm around Roslyn’s shoulders. “Oh, honey, I’m so glad that you didn’t. You’re not in any condition to be staying by yourself. And company is always welcome here at Three Rivers. Did you bring a bag with you?”
Before Roslyn could answer, Chandler said, “I left it at the stairwell. I’ll carry it upstairs. Which room?”
“The one across from Vivian’s old room should be fine. I believe Jazelle freshened it up only a few days ago.”
Maureen urged Roslyn forward and Chandler followed them out of the room and into another hallway that intersected with a wide staircase.
“Where’s Blake and Katherine and the kids?” Chandler asked his mother as he picked up Roslyn’s case and proceeded to climb the steps behind the two women.
“You never know what time it is, Chandler. It’s late. They’ve retired for the night,” Maureen answered. Then she explained to Roslyn, “My oldest son and his family stay on the third floor. They don’t want the twins crying to disturb the rest of us.”
“Hah! That’s just an excuse to get away from all the noise we make down here,” Chandler said jokingly, then tossed another question at his mother. “If it’s so late, what’s Reeva still doing in the kitchen?”
“Tessa and Joe and Little Joe came over for dinner, so Reeva made several extra dishes. I couldn’t help her with the cleaning up because Holt called me down to the foaling barn.” She glanced over at their houseguest. “Just a regular night on the ranch, Roslyn. Around here, you never know what’s going to happen next.”
On the second floor, they walked halfway down a wide passageway to a partially open door and entered a bedroom decorated in reds and browns and furnished with a queen-size bed and a large chest made of knotty pine.
Chandler said, “If the room looks masculine, Roslyn, that’s because this used to be Holt’s room. He moved downstairs a few years ago.”
“During foaling season Holt is called out at all hours of the night,” Maureen explained. “And as our resident vet, Chandler usually has to go with him.”
“But even when it’s not foaling season, Holt is coming home at all hours of the night,” Chandler added with a sly chuckle.
Maureen let out a good-natured groan. “Chandler, our guest doesn’t want to hear about the playboy of the family.”
“No,” he agreed. “She needs for us to get out of here and let her rest.” He placed Roslyn’s bag on the end of the bed.
His mother gestured toward a door in the far left corner of the room. “There’s a private bath there with a shower. You should find plenty of towels and things. And if you get chilled in the night you’ll find extra blankets in the closet. Now with that settled, are you hungry?”
“Thank you. I’m fine. Dr. Hollister gave me a chicken leg and a carton of yogurt.”
Maureen rolled her eyes. “First of all, he’s not Dr. Hollister around here. You’d better call him Chandler, or Doc, or Bones, or something like that, so we’ll know who you mean. And secondly, a chicken leg and a bit of yogurt does not qualify as a meal. Especially when you’re eating for a little one, too. I’ll bring you some of the leftovers from dinner.”
Chandler gave Roslyn a wink. “You probably ought to listen to her. She’s had six of us.”
“I’m not an expert on carrying babies, but by the time Camille was born, I felt darn close to it,” Maureen said with a chuckle, then reached for Chandler’s arm. “Come on. Let’s leave Roslyn alone so she can get comfortable and ready for bed.
She tugged Chandler out the door and didn’t let loose of his arm until they’d reached the landing at the bottom of the stairs.
Deliberately lowering her voice, she said, “Okay. What’s going on? You’ve brought home plenty of things over the years, Chandler, but never anything like this!”
He glanced up the stairs just to make sure Roslyn hadn’t followed and could hear them discussing her. “Well, it’s pretty simple, Mom. When Trey and I returned to the clinic tonight, Roslyn’s car was parked near the front of the building. Seems she’d gotten dizzy and pulled off the highway. I found her sitting inside the vehicle. She was a bit disoriented and while I was trying to question her, she fainted. As best as I could tell from dehydration and exhaustion.”
“But where is she from? Who is she? Anyone you know?”
He shook his head. “She’s from Fort Worth and apparently driving herself to California.”
“The poor little thing,” Maureen murmured with empathy. “No one was with her? Where’s her husband?”
He grimaced. “She doesn’t have one. And from what she tells me, she isn’t going to have one. I think the baby’s father turned out to be...uh, not the good guy she thought him to be.”
“Oh. That’s just awful.”
“Well, I apologize for springing a guest on you this way, Mom, but I hated to think of her at a motel.”
She released the grip on his arm and gently patted his shoulder. “No need for an apology, son. This is your home, too. Besides, you did the right thing. Roslyn might not even have the extra money for a motel room.”
The two of them moved away from the landing and started toward the kitchen. As they walked together, Chandler said, “Wrong, Mom. Roslyn appears to be wealthy. She’s driving a Jaguar and did you notice her clothing? I’m sure the pieces will have fancy labels inside.”
“Hmm. I didn’t notice her clothing,” she admitted. “Did you ask her why she’s traveling west?”
“No. It’s none of my business. But from everything she’s said, she’s not going back to Texas. I’m guessing she’s trying to get away from something or someone. Kinda like our Camille. In any case, I didn’t think it would hurt to help her out for a night.”
“Or two?” Maureen suggested slyly. “For the baby’s sake.”
Chandler glanced skeptically at his mother. “I don’t believe she’ll stick around for a second night. Unless you can persuade her—for the baby’s sake.”
Maureen gave him a clever smile. “All right, son. I’ll give it a try.”
He leaned over and pecked a kiss at the end of her eyebrow. “Thanks, Mom.”
She didn’t respond and by the time they reached the end of the hallway, Chandler was shocked to see a tear trickling down her cheek. Maureen Hollister never cried or rarely showed an emotional crack in her tough, ranch-woman armor.
Before she could shoulder her way through the swinging doors leading into the kitchen, he caught her by the arm. “Mom, I see a tear in your eye! What in the world is wrong?”
She blinked. “Nothing is wrong. I was just thinking.” Smiling wanly, she cupped her hand against the side of his face. “Have I ever told you just how much you remind me of Joel?”
A tight knot of grief twisted in the middle of Chandler’s chest. “Oh, Mom, don’t compare me to Dad. It isn’t fair. I could never be the man that he was.”
“Not exactly. But you are like him in so many ways. And that’s a comfort to me, Chandler. Always remember that,” she said gently, then her mood instantly brightened and, smiling, she urged him through the swinging doors. “Let’s see what Reeva has left for you in the warming drawer. You might have to share it with your little Texas stray.”
She was a stray all right, Chandler thought. But she didn’t belong to him. Like any other stray he’d picked up in the past, he could afford to offer her food and a temporary home. But he wasn’t about to risk offering her a piece of his heart.
