Heart of Texas Vol. 3

CONTENTS

NELL’S COWBOY

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

LONE STAR BABY

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

Nell’s Cowboy

CAST OF CHARACTERS
THE PEOPLE OF PROMISE

Nell Bishop: thirtysomething widow with a son, Jeremy, and a daughter, Emma; her husband died in a tractor accident

Ruth Bishop: Nell’s mother-in-law; lives with Nell and her two children

Dovie Boyd: runs an antiques shop and has dated Sheriff Frank Hennessey for ten years

Caroline Daniels: postmistress of Promise

Maggie Daniels: Caroline’s five-year-old daughter

Dr. Jane Dickinson: new doctor in Promise

Ellie Frasier: owner of Frasier’s Feed Store

Frank Hennessey: local sheriff

Max Jordan: owner of Jordan’s Towne and Country

Wade McMillen: preacher of Promise Christian Church

Edwina and Lily Moorhouse: sisters; retired schoolteachers

Cal and Glen Patterson: local ranchers; brothers who ranch together

Phil and Mary Patterson: parents of Cal and Glen; operate a local B and B

Louise Powell: town gossip

Wiley Rogers: sixty-year-old ranch foreman at the Weston Ranch

Laredo Smith: wrangler hired by Savannah Weston

Barbara and Melvin Weston: mother and father to Savannah, Grady and Richard; the Westons died six years ago

Richard Weston: youngest of the Weston siblings

Savannah Weston: Grady and Richard’s sister; cultivates old roses

Grady Weston: rancher and oldest of the Weston siblings

CHAPTER 1

NELL BISHOP BARRELED DOWN the highway, heading home, racing against the approaching storm. The March winds whipped against the pickup as she hurried toward Twin Canyons Ranch, thirty-four miles south of Promise, Texas.

Her mother-in-law was with the children, but Jeremy and Emma would have difficulty getting the animals into the barn without help. Ruth would do what she could, but the older woman’s heart wasn’t strong and…Nell didn’t want to think what might happen if she didn’t make it back in time.

Her life had been on a fast-moving treadmill for the past three years, ever since her husband died in a tractor accident. Storms were the least of her worries, considering the financial challenges she’d faced working the ranch without Jake. Not a day passed that her husband wasn’t in her thoughts. Twenty years from now, forty years from now, he’d still be a part of her.

Ruth and others had encouraged her to remarry, at least to date, but Nell had resisted. She never expected to love again—not the way she loved Jake. Their love was the kind that happened only once in a lifetime, and no other man could compare to her Jake.

Nell had always known she wasn’t any candidate for home-coming queen, but Jake had made her feel like one. He’d understood what it was to be big-boned and just plain big. Dainty or elegant would never describe her; at six feet, Nell was as tall as most men. Jake had been six feet four inches by the time he was a high-school freshman, and the only boy in school taller than Nell.

They’d lived in the same town all their lives, but it wasn’t until high school that she’d noticed him. The very first day of high school, as a matter of fact. She was a freshman to his senior, and the minute his eyes met hers as she walked down the hall, she knew she’d found her life’s mate. He was the only boy she’d ever dated. When he enlisted in the army and became an Airborne Ranger, she’d written him every day. He served his time in the army and was discharged a week after her graduation. Despite her family’s protests, she’d married Jake while still a teenager.

Neither was to know that ten years was all the time they’d have together. It was Nell who’d found her husband trapped beneath the tractor, Nell who’d held him in her arms as the life flowed out of him, Nell who’d screamed in anguish, helpless to do anything to save her husband’s life.

Now it was Nell who struggled to hold on to Twin Canyons Ranch, tended what remained of the herd, raised their children and cared for Jake’s aging mother. The ranch had been Jake’s dream—and hers; it was a small spread that they’d bought together, shortly after their marriage. But she was so very tired, weary to the bone with her financial struggles and other worries. The past three years had drained her mentally, emotionally and physically. For that reason she’d sold off most of the herd and started a new venture. A dude ranch.

Bless Jeremy’s heart. Her son had been the one to give her the idea. Last year, she’d promised him a reward for acing his spelling test and he’d chosen to rent a movie. Of all the movies available, he’d picked City Slickers, and to Nell it was like a revelation.

After seeing the movie, Nell hadn’t been able to sleep all night. She was certainly familiar with dude ranches, but it had never occurred to her that this might be a solution to her own dilemma. She couldn’t say she understood it, but people actually paid for the opportunity to eat food cooked in a chuck wagon, ride around on horses and drive cattle. Why these people would prefer to live in primitive circumstances when they could experience the luxury of some fancy resort for basically the same price was beyond her. Apparently she had a lot to learn—but learn she did. After months of research Nell was convinced that a dude ranch really was the answer. With a portion of her profits from the sale of last year’s herd, she’d had brochures printed and she’d contacted several travel companies. Now she was almost ready for business, and in a couple of months she’d be entertaining her first bunkhouse full of greenhorns.

In many ways she was a natural for this kind of work. After these few years without Jake, there wasn’t a ranching chore she couldn’t accomplish with the speed and dexterity of a man. At this point, she knew as much about ranching as any cowboy. Not only that, she’d heard the great stories of Texas all her life—stories about the state’s settlement and the Alamo and the early cattle drives and many more. She’d always loved those stories, and if she could make money telling them now, romanticizing the Old West, all the better.

Heavy black clouds darkened the sky. Pushing thoughts of Jake from her mind, Nell focused her attention on the highway. Driving well above the speed limit, she rounded a turn in the road and saw a sports utility vehicle parked along the side.

Some damn fool had stopped to take pictures of the approaching storm. The man obviously wasn’t a local. Anyone from Texas would know to take cover, and fast. Like the state of Texas itself, storms tended to make an impression, especially spring storms like this one.

Despite her hurry, Nell applied her brakes and pulled over. With the engine running, she leaped down from the cab. The wind slapped her long braid against her face as she raced toward the stranger.

The greenhorn lowered his camera. “Howdy,” he greeted her cheerfully. He was taller than she was and clean-cut. His clothes were new-looking but rumpled.

“Listen, I don’t mean to be rude, but any idiot knows to head for cover in a storm.”

His smile faded to a frown.

“I don’t know where you’re from or where you’re going,” she went on, “but if I were you I’d get my butt back into that fancy car of yours and drive into town as fast as those tires will take you.” Having done her duty, she started back to her truck.

“Hey,” he said, “got a minute? I have a few questions.”

“I have to go.” Nell didn’t mean to sound abrupt, but she didn’t have time to waste. She’d said her piece and whether or not he took her advice was completely up to him.

“Are you from around the area?” he called after her.

“Yes! Now listen, we get hail the size of golf balls and if you don’t want to pay to have the dents removed, then I suggest you make tracks for town.”

“This will only take a minute…”

“I don’t have a minute, I’ve got horses and calves to worry about,” Nell shouted into the wind. “And I don’t have time to convince you a storm is about to break.” She raised her hand toward the threatening sky. “It’s going to cost you plenty if you don’t get that vehicle under cover.”

“I’m insured.”

“Hail is an act of God.” Whether he caught her last words or not she didn’t know. Nell leaped into her truck and put the pickup in gear. One glance in the rearview mirror proved that giving this stranger advice had been a wasted effort. He hadn’t moved. Furthermore, he wasn’t snapping pictures of the dark horizon anymore; he was taking pictures of her!

Shaking her head in wonder, Nell dismissed him from her thoughts and drove home at breakneck speed.

When she pulled into the ranch yard, she saw Jeremy chasing chickens in a futile attempt to lure them into the coop. Emma and Ruth led the horses toward the barn, yanking on the reins as the two geldings battled the wind. The scene right before the tornado in The Wizard of Oz flashed through Nell’s mind.

She parked the truck near the barn, where it would be protected, and hurried toward her family. With her help, Ruth and Emma managed to secure the animals before the storm broke.

By the time they scurried into the house, the rain had started and they were breathless and excited.

“We did it!” twelve-year-old Jeremy said, exchanging a high five with his sister. Unlike most siblings, Jeremy and Emma rarely fought. Sure, they squabbled now and then—all kids did—but these two were close in age and temperament. They’d also been through the devastating experience of their father’s death, which had created a strong bond between them.

Jeremy was large for his age, like his father and Nell, too—big-boned, muscular and tall. Two years younger, Emma was small and delicate, resembling Ruth, her grandmother.

“I’m glad you made it home in time,” Ruth said, pouring Nell a cup of hot tea before filling a second cup for herself.

Nell gazed out the kitchen window at the ferocity of the storm. The wind propelled the rain at an almost horizontal angle, pelting the trees and flowers. Smaller trees were bent nearly in half. Many a new crop would see ruin this afternoon.

Sighing, she turned away from the window. “I would have been a couple of minutes earlier if it hadn’t been for some greenhorn,” she said. “The silly fool stopped at the side of the road to take pictures.”

“Anyone you recognized?” Ruth asked.

“Never saw him before in my life.” Nell would have remembered him if she had. He was big like Jake, sturdy and broad-shouldered. Unfortunately—unlike Jake—he didn’t seem to possess an ounce of common sense.

Ruth shook her head. “Probably one of those tornado chasers.”

Nell frowned. “I don’t think so.” He wasn’t the type. Too soft, she decided, and although it might sound unkind, not all that bright. Anyone with brains knew to seek shelter in a storm.

“What’s for dinner?” Jeremy asked.

“Not chili,” Emma pleaded.

Despite herself Nell laughed. “Not chili,” she assured her. Her family had been good sports, sampling different variations of her chili recipe for the past few months. Nell was perfecting her recipe and had used her family as taste-testers.

The chili cook-off was being held that weekend as part of the Promise Rodeo. These festivities launched spring the way the big Cattlemen’s Association Dance in June signaled the beginning of summer.

Nell held high hopes that her chili might actually win this year. Her talents in the kitchen were legendary, and she believed she made a great pot of chili. For weeks she’d been combining recipes, adding this, subtracting that. After feeding her family chili twice a week, she was finally satisfied with her recipe.

“Are you going to win the cook-off?” Emma asked.

“Of course she is,” Ruth answered before Nell could respond. “I don’t see why she shouldn’t, seeing she’s the best cook this side of the Rio Grande.”

Both children nodded enthusiastically, and Nell smiled. “How about porcupine meatballs for dinner?” she suggested. The meatballs, made with rice and cooked in tomato soup, were one of the children’s favorites. Jeremy and Emma instantly agreed.

“I’ll peel the potatoes,” Ruth said. As usual her mother-in-law was willing to lend a hand.

The lights flickered just then, and the house went dark.

“That’s okay,” Jeremy said. “We don’t need electricity. We can roast weenies in the fireplace, can’t we?”

“Yeah,” Emma seconded. “We could have hot dogs.”

“Sounds like a good idea to me.” Nell reached for a candle, grateful her children maintained a sense of adventure. They were going to need it when the first dude ranch guests arrived.

CAL PATTERSON SHOOK THE moisture from his jacket as he stepped inside out of the driving rain. He removed his Stetson and placed it on the hook just inside the porch to dry. He’d done what he could to protect his herd, gotten his horses into the barn and battened down the shutters where he could. Glen, his brother and business partner, had left for town early in hopes of beating the storm. Cal had worked alone, listening with half an ear for his wife’s arrival. He didn’t like the idea of Jane driving all the way from town in this kind of weather.

“Cal, is that you?”

His heart rate accelerated at the sound of her voice. “Jane? What the hell are you doing here? Where’s your car? I didn’t see it.”

“I live here, remember?” she teased, joining him in the kitchen porch while he removed his boots. She’d obviously just had a bath and now wore a flannel bathrobe, belted loosely about her waist. “And I didn’t park in my usual place because Glen’s truck was still there.”

“You should’ve stayed in town,” he chastised, but he was delighted she’d managed to make it home. He didn’t relish the idea of a night spent without her. Two months of marriage, and he’d grown accustomed to sharing his home and his heart with this woman.

“The clinic closed early,” she informed him, “and I’ve got my beeper. Anyone can reach me in case of a medical emergency.”

Cal shed his jacket and slipped his arms around her waist, pulling her close and urging her into the kitchen. His wife was the town’s only physician, so there were constant demands on her time. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to stop worrying about you.”

“Hey, I’m a big girl.”

“Sure you are!” He was about to kiss her when the lights went out. Not that he minded. A romantic interlude wasn’t unwelcome.

“I’ve got a fire going in the fireplace,” she whispered, pressing against him, reminding him of the benefits of married life. She looped her arms around his neck and kissed his jaw.

Cal shut his eyes and inhaled her fresh sweet scent. This was about as close to heaven as he expected to get in his lifetime. “I don’t suppose you’re wearing that see-through nightie of yours?”

“No,” she said, “but that could be arranged.”

“Now you’re talkin’.”

Cal felt her smile against his skin. “I love you, Rebel.”

Growling, he swung her into his arms and carried her into the living room. Sure enough, a small fire flickered in the fireplace. This had become their favorite room; he’d lost count of the number of times they’d made love in front of the fireplace. The room had a special significance for him, since it was here that he’d first realized how much he’d come to care about her. It was here in this very room that Dr. Texas, as he was fond of calling her, had taken his freeze-dried heart and breathed life into his lonely existence.

Cal was happier than he’d ever thought possible. With each passing day he loved Jane more. Their love had demanded plenty of adjustments on both sides. Sacrifices. But for everything he’d given up, he’d gained so much more.

The storm raged outside and a fair one was building on the living-room carpet when Jane’s beeper went off.

Cal groaned and rolled onto his back, inhaling several deep breaths. “That damn well better be important,” he muttered.

“Cal!”

“I want someone real sick.”

Giggling, Jane scrambled for her beeper and read the message. “It’s Laredo Smith,” she said.

“Wanna bet he’s phoning about Savannah?”

“She’s just over eight months,” Jane said, sounding concerned.

“But Laredo’s acting like she’s three weeks overdue.”

“He’s worried, that’s all.”

Cal figured he would be, too, in Laredo’s situation. This was the Smiths’ first child, and Cal knew there’d been some minor complications with the pregnancy. Despite that—and unlike her husband—the mother-to-be remained calm and confident. Savannah had insisted on a home delivery, overriding Laredo’s protests.

“This shouldn’t take long,” Jane promised. She hurried over to the hall phone.

Cal cupped his hands behind his head and watched his wife move through the room, bathed in firelight. Her hair was mussed and her bathrobe hastily tied—and he couldn’t recall a time she’d looked more beautiful. It never ceased to amaze him that Jane had agreed to be his wife.

Cal had begun to wonder if someone had spiked the water supply last summer. In less than a year most of his friends had married. First, Savannah Weston had met a stranger to Promise named Laredo Smith and subsequently married him. Cal’s own brother had married Ellie Frasier, owner of the local feed store, last September. No sooner had that wedding taken place when Grady Weston asked the postmistress, Caroline Daniels, to marry him—all within the space of a few short weeks. Even Sheriff Hennessey had married his longtime sweetheart, Dovie Boyd.

It hadn’t been long before Cal fell in love himself.

At one time Cal, Glen and Grady had been confirmed bachelors. With Cal, it had been a form of self-protection, he realized now. He’d been jilted by a former fiancée and the experience had left him bitter, determined never to fall for a woman again.

But that was before he’d met Jane. Their first date was arranged by Ellie. At the time Cal had been annoyed and frustrated that his brand-new sister-in-law was matchmaking. By the end of the evening, however, Jane had managed to pique his interest. To his surprise he discovered he was looking for ward to seeing her again. Before he could help himself, he was deeply in love with her.

A city girl. Worse, one from California. If anyone had told him six months ago that he’d marry a woman like Jane, he would have run screaming into the night. Now he couldn’t imagine living two minutes without her.

With the phone against her ear, Jane caught her husband’s eyes and blew him a kiss. He grinned, content to wait. Relaxing on the rug, he listened to one-half of the conversation.

“Don’t worry,” Jane was telling Laredo, “you didn’t interrupt anything important.”

Cal sat upright at that, raising his eyebrows. Didn’t interrupt anything important? He saw that his wife could barely hold in her laughter at his expression.

But her smile faded as she continued to listen to Laredo. “No…no you were right to phone. How long ago did you say her water broke?”

The smile left Cal’s face, too. This was more serious than either of them had anticipated.

“How far apart are the contractions?” Jane reached for a pad and pencil and noted the information.

Cal had delivered enough calves to know the signs of imminent birth. Savannah and Laredo were about to have their baby during the worst storm of the year.

“I’ll be there within the hour,” Jane promised and replaced the receiver. “Savannah’s in labor,” she told Cal.

“So I heard.” He stood and she walked over to him and caressed the side of his face. “Looks like we’ll have to put our romantic interlude on hold.”

“I’m a patient man,” he reminded her. He caught her fingers and pressed a kiss into her palm. “What time are we leaving?” he asked, snapping his shirt closed as he spoke.

“We?” Jane asked, arching her brows expressively. “I’m perfectly capable of delivering this baby.”

“I never doubted it for an instant.” He opened her bathrobe, kissed the valley between her breasts and refastened it.

“I can drive in a storm, too.”

“I realize that,” he said, “but how good are you at keeping two strong-willed ranchers out of your hair?”

“Two?”

“Laredo and Grady.” Cal knew his best friend, and Grady would be as nervous as Laredo at the birth of his first niece or nephew. Jane was going to have her hands full, and it wasn’t with Savannah or the baby, either. It wouldn’t surprise him if father and uncle made damned nuisances of themselves. “Trust me, darlin’, you’ll thank me later.”

“Oh, all right, Cal Patterson, you can tag along, too. Now I’d better go change.”

He grinned, pleased he’d been able to convince her she was going to need him. Truth be known, he wouldn’t miss this birth for anything. It was about time something good happened in that family, especially after Richard Weston’s trial and sentencing.

A baby was just what the Westons needed to put their troubles behind them. Cal was determined to celebrate the blessed event with his friends.

TRAVIS GRANT ROLLED INTO Promise at precisely the moment the storm struck. He drove down Main Street, peering out between the constantly beating windshield wipers, but he couldn’t locate a single hotel. Seeing as his last meal had been aboard a plane and hadn’t amounted to much, he decided to stop for dinner and inquire about a place to stay. By the time he found a parking space and raced to the restaurant through the pounding rain, he was soaked to the skin.

He gulped down a glass of water and started on a bowl of tortilla chips with salsa before he even looked at the menu. His stomach growled and he ordered arroz con pollo, his favorite Mexican dish.

Gazing out the window, he decided the town was just the way Richard Weston had described it. This was something of a pleasant surprise. Men like Weston weren’t exactly known for their truthfulness. Travis had interviewed him shortly after he was sentenced to twenty-five years in a New York prison. No possibility of parole, either. He wouldn’t have talked to him at all if it hadn’t been for his ex-wife, who’d been Weston’s state-appointed attorney. As far as Travis was concerned, Weston was the ultimate sleaze—an opinion that the interview only reinforced.

Knowing his interest in Western ghost towns, Valerie had told him about Weston, a man who’d hidden from the law in an abandoned town buried deep in the Texas hill country. Weston had agreed to an interview—in exchange for certain concessions. The warden of the prison, however, hadn’t approved of the idea that Weston should have a TV and sound system in his cell. Weston had consented to the interview, anyway—because it was another opportunity to be the center of attention, Travis figured. Their meeting continued to leave a bad taste in his mouth. If it hadn’t been for Valerie, Travis would have abandoned the entire project, but his ex-wife seemed to have a way with the man.

Valerie. Travis frowned as he thought about her. She’d dumped him and their marriage for another man five years earlier. His lack of malice seemed to disappoint his friends. Frankly, he considered life too short to waste on ill will. He’d loved her, still did, but as she’d so eloquently put it, she’d fallen out of love with him.

She’d remarried as soon as the ink was dry on their divorce papers and seemed content. For that matter, he was, too, although it had taken him longer to achieve peace and he hadn’t become involved in another serious relationship. Also, to his friends’ surprise, he and Valerie had stayed in touch.

The waiter, a kid of maybe eighteen, delivered a plate heaped with rice and chicken and covered with a thin tomato sauce and melted cheese. “Could you give me directions to the closest motel?” Travis asked him.

“Brewster’s got a motel.”

“Great.” Travis reached for his fork. “How far away is that?”

“About a hundred miles.”

He laid his fork back down. “You mean to say a town the size of Promise doesn’t have a motel?”

“We’ve got a bed-and-breakfast.”

“Fine.” A bed was a bed, and at this point he wasn’t picky.

The waiter lingered. “You might have trouble getting a room, ’cause of the big festivities this weekend.”

“Festivities?”

“The rodeo’s coming, and then there’s the big chili cook-off. I thought that was why you were here.”

Apparently the town was small enough to recognize him as a stranger. “Where do the rodeo cowboys stay while they’re in town?”

The youth stared at him as if the answer should be obvious. “Motor homes.”

“All of them?”

“Unless they got family close by.”

“I see,” Travis murmured. He hadn’t considered that there wouldn’t be a motel—but then that was one of his problems, according to Valerie. He didn’t think ahead.

“If you’d like, I could write you out directions to the Pattersons’ B and B.”

“Please.” Famished, Travis dug into his meal, devouring it in minutes. He’d no sooner finished when the waiter returned with a hand-drawn map listing streets and landmarks. Apparently the one and only bed-and-breakfast was off the beaten path.

Thunder cracked in the sky, followed by flashes of lightning. No one seemed to pay much heed to the storm until the lights flickered. Everyone in the restaurant paused and waited, then sighed with relief when the lights stayed on.

The storm was bad, but he’d seen worse off the New England coastline five years before. Holed up in a rented cottage in order to meet a deadline, Travis had watched storms rage as he fought his own battles. It’d been shortly after the divorce.

He thought of that sassy ranch woman who’d spoken to him today and wondered what she’d say if she knew he’d stood on a rocky bluff overlooking the sea, with the wind and rain pounding against him, and openly defied nature.

Remembering the way she’d leaped out of her truck, eyes flashing with outrage, brought a rare smile to his lips.

She’d been an attractive woman. Practically as tall as he was and full-sized, not some pencil-thin model. A spitfire, too. Definitely one of a kind. Briefly he wondered if he’d get a chance to see her again and rather hoped he would, just so he could tell her he’d managed to survive the storm.

Following the directions given him by the waiter at the Mexican Lindo, Travis drove to Pattersons’ Bed-and-Breakfast, which turned out to be a large older home. He rang the doorbell.

Almost immediately a tall, gray-haired, lanky man opened the door and invited him inside. “Welcome to Promise.” The man extended his hand and introduced himself as Phil Patterson.

“Travis Grant. Do you have a room for a few nights?” he asked, getting directly to the point.

“Sorry,” Phil told him. “We’re booked solid.”

Travis had left New York early that morning and didn’t relish the thought of traveling another hundred miles through a storm to find a bed for the night. “I’m tired and not difficult to please. Isn’t there any place that could put me up for a few nights?”

Phil frowned. “The rodeo’s coming to town.”

“So I understand.”

“I doubt there’s a room available in Brewster, either.”

Travis muttered a curse under his breath.

“Phil.” A woman’s voice called out from the kitchen. “You might try Nell.”

“Nell?”

“Nell Bishop.”

Phil sighed. “I know who Nell is.”

“She’s opening her dude ranch in a couple of months, so she’s probably got rooms to rent.”

Phil’s face relaxed. “Of course, that’s a great idea.”

Travis’s spirits lifted.

“I’ll give her a call.” Phil reached for the phone, punched in the number and waited. After a minute or two he covered the receiver. “Nell’s busy, but her mother-in-law’s there and she said you’d be welcome to drive out, but she feels obliged to warn you there’s no electricity at the moment.”

“They have a bed and clean sheets?”

“Sure thing, and Ruth—that’s her name—said she’d throw in breakfast, as well.”

He named a price that sounded more than reasonable to Travis. “Sold.”

Phil relayed the information, drew him a map, and soon Travis was back on the road.

Patterson had told him that the ranch was a fair distance out of town; still, by the time Travis pulled off the highway and onto the gravel drive that led to Twin Canyons Ranch, he suspected he was closer to Brewster than Promise. Approaching the front door, he felt as though his butt was dragging as low to the ground as his suitcase.

A kid who looked to be about twelve answered his knock and stared blankly at him while Travis stood in the rain.

“Hello,” Travis finally said.

“Hello,” the boy answered. A girl two or three years younger joined him. Good-looking children, but apparently not all that bright.

“Most people come to the back door unless they’re selling something, and if you are, we’re not buying.”

Despite feeling tired and cranky, Travis grinned. “I’m here about a room.”

The two kids exchanged glances.

“Who is it?” He heard an older woman’s voice in the background; a moment later, she appeared at the door. “For the love of heaven, young man, come out of the rain.” She nudged the children aside and held open the door.

He stood in the hallway, which was all gloom and shadows except for the light flickering from a cluster of candles. Travis glanced around, but it was impossible to see much.

“Mom’s in the barn,” the boy said.

“I know that,” the older woman told him. She put the candle close to Travis’s face. “You look decent enough.”

“I haven’t eaten any children in at least a week,” he teased, eyeing the two kids. The little girl moved a step closer to her brother.

“I’m Travis Grant,” he said, turning his attention to the woman.

“Ruth Bishop, and these two youngsters are my grandchildren, Jeremy and Emma.”

“Pleased to meet you.” He shifted the suitcase in his hand, hoping Ruth would take the hint and escort him to his room. She didn’t. “About the room…” he said pointedly.

“You’ll need to meet Nell first.”

“All right.” He was eager to get the introductions over with so he could fall into bed and sleep for the next twelve hours straight.

“This way.” She led him through the house to the back porch, where she pulled on a hooded jacket. Then she walked down the back steps and into the rain, holding her hand over the candle to shield the small flame.

Travis wasn’t enthusiastic about clumping through the storm yet again, but didn’t have much choice.

“Ruth?” a new voice called into the night. A low pleasant voice.

“Coming,” the grandmother answered.

They met halfway across the yard in the pouring rain. “I got us our first paying guest,” Ruth announced, beaming proudly. “Travis Grant, meet my daughter-in-law, Nell Bishop.”

It took Travis no more than a second to recognize Nell as the woman who’d called him an idiot.

He liked her already.

CHAPTER 2

NELL LOCATED AN OLD-FASHIONED lantern for Travis Grant. It had probably been in the family for fifty years and was nothing if not authentic. Next she gathered together fresh sun-dried sheets, a couple of blankets and a pillow. She tucked everything inside a plastic bag and raced through the storm, holding the lit lantern with one hand. When she arrived at the bunkhouse, Nell discovered Travis sitting on the end of a bed, looking tired and out of sorts.

The initial group of tourists was scheduled to show up the first week of May, and almost everything in the bunkhouse had been readied. It was primitive, but then this was the real thing. A genuine ranch, complete with enough cattle to give would-be cowboys the experience of dealing with a herd, horses for them to ride and plenty of land. Nell was as determined as Curly in the movie City Slickers to make real wranglers out of her guests. It was what they were paying her big bucks to do, and she firmly believed in giving them their money’s worth.

“Thanks,” Travis said when he saw her. He stood up to remove the bag from her arms, and she placed the lantern on a small wooden dresser opposite the bed.

“I realize this isn’t the Ritz,” she said as she spread the crisp sheet across the thin mattress.

“Hey, beggars can’t be choosers,” her guest reminded her. “I’m grateful you’re willing to take me in at all.”

Actually no one had thought to ask her. It was her mother-in-law who’d agreed to put him up for the night when Phil Patterson phoned. But to be fair, Nell suspected she would have agreed herself.

“With the rodeo coming, the Pattersons didn’t have any vacancies,” he explained unnecessarily, leaning over to help her with the top sheet and blanket.

The lantern actually gave a fair amount of light, much to Nell’s chagrin. She chose to pretend she didn’t recognize him. And either he was too tired to remember the way she’d harangued him at the side of the road or he’d decided to forget. Whatever the case, she was grateful.

“Does the Texas hill country generally get storms like this?”

“This one’s worse than some,” she told him, lifting the edge of the mattress to tuck in the covers. Given his size, she wondered if the bunk would be big enough for him. Well, there was no help for it, since this bed—or another exactly like it—was the only one available.

“What about losing your electricity?”

“Happens now and then,” she said, not looking at him. She reached for the pillow and stuffed it inside the case, then plumping it up, set it at the head of the bed. “Is there anything else I can get you?” she asked, ready to return to her family.

“Nothing. I appreciate your putting me up,” he said again.

“No problem.”

“Mom.” Breathless, Jeremy burst into the bunkhouse, his face bright. He carried a blue-speckled tin coffeepot in one hand and a matching cup in the other. Emma followed with a covered plate.

“Grandma sent us over with hot chocolate and—”

“—one of Mom’s cinnamon rolls,” Emma finished for her brother. Travis could see a black-and-white dog waiting patiently at the door.

He took the pot and cup from Jeremy and set them on the nightstand. “Hey, no one said anything about room service. How’d I get so lucky?”

Emma handed him the plate. “My mom’s the best cook in the world.”

Nell grinned and put an arm around each of her children. “Now probably isn’t the time to mention we roasted hot dogs in the fireplace for dinner.”

“Are you staying for the chili cook-off?” Emma asked their guest.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Travis sat on the side of the bed and poured himself a mug of steaming cocoa.

Nell wasn’t sure how Ruth had managed to heat the cocoa—the fireplace, she supposed—but was pleased her mother-in-law had made the effort.

“Mom’s going to win. Her chili’s the best.”

“Emma’s opinion might be a little biased,” Nell said, steering the two children toward the door. “Let us know if you need anything.”

“I will. Good night,” Travis said as they left to go back to the house.

Nell turned and smiled when she saw that he’d already started on the cinnamon roll with the appreciation of a man who rarely tasted anything homemade.

The children ran across the yard ahead of her. Lucky, their border-collie mix, followed at their heels. Ruth waited for Nell in the kitchen, holding the candle and looking inordinately pleased with herself.

“Travis Grant seems like a nice young man,” she said the moment Nell entered the kitchen.

“He’s from New York City,” Nell said, wanting it understood right then and there that he was a big-city boy and only drifting through Promise. It just so happened that he’d ventured into a strange town and needed a place to sleep; there’d be plenty of guests just like him in the months to come.

“We have a big day tomorrow,” Nell said. “It wouldn’t hurt any of us to get to bed early for once.”

As she’d expected, her children put up token protests, but they didn’t argue long. Both were tired and, without electricity, there was little to entertain them. The lights probably wouldn’t be coming on soon, especially with the rain and the wind still so intense.

“Did our guest mention what he’s doing in Promise?” Ruth asked. She held her hand protectively in front of the flame of the candle she carried and led the way across the living room.

Nell wondered, too. “He didn’t say.”

“You could’ve asked.”

“Well, I didn’t. That’s his business, not mine.”

“Weren’t you curious?”

“A little.” A lot actually, but Nell wasn’t willing to admit it.

“He’s probably here for the rodeo,” Jeremy suggested, heading up the stairs, Lucky at his side.

“Maybe, but I don’t think so.” Nell wasn’t sure why she thought that, but she did. Her guess was that when morning came Travis Grant would pack up his bags and leave.

“He reminds me of someone,” Emma said and yawned.

“Me, too,” Jeremy murmured.

Jake. Nell had seen it, too, not in looks but in build. Travis Grant was a lumberjack of a man, just the way her beloved Jake had been. Sadly the children’s memories of their father had dimmed with time into vague recollections.

The family stood at the landing at the top of the stairs, where they exchanged good-night hugs and kisses. Even Jeremy let his mother and grandma kiss him tonight. Ruth guided the children to their bedrooms while Nell retrieved a candle for herself.

Once everyone was in bed, she undressed and put on a full-length white cotton nightgown. She unbraided her hair and brushed it out, the thick dark tresses reaching halfway down her back. Jake had loved her hair, had often gathered it in his huge hands and run it through his fingers. Nell missed those moments, missed everything about Jake.

Time, she’d discovered, was a great healer, just as Pastor McMillen had told her. The grief became duller, less acute, with every month and year that passed. But it was still there, always there. Now, though, her grief shared space with all the good memories, the happy moments they’d had together.

Nothing would ever erase those ten wonderful years she’d shared with the man she loved.

Setting her hairbrush aside, Nell pulled back the covers and climbed into bed. She leaned against the headboard, her back supported by two pillows, and opened the drawer in her nightstand. She took out a pen and her journal.

By the light of a single candle, she wrote down the events of the day, pausing now and then to collect her thoughts. When she’d finished, she reread what she’d written, something she rarely did, and was surprised to note she’d mentioned Travis Grant in the first line. It didn’t take her long to figure out why.

It was because he was like Jake and meeting him had shaken her. Not the first time on the road into town, when she’d stopped and read him the riot act, but later. It hadn’t hit her until they stood across from each other to make the bed. He was the same height as Jake.

Nell reached for the framed photograph of Jake taken on their wedding day. It was a rare shot of him without his Stetson. Fresh from the military, his hair had been cropped close. He looked strong, capable—and oddly vulnerable.

Her heart clenched as it always did when she studied the photograph, but the usual tears didn’t come.

“Good night, my love,” she whispered and placed the photograph back on her nightstand. As she did, Nell saw a light come on outside the window. Tossing the blankets aside, she peered out and noticed a bright even glow coming from the bunkhouse. The electricity was back on.

“I DON’T KNOW HOW MUCH LONGER this is going to take,” Laredo Smith said as he reappeared to give another update on Savannah’s progress. He’d practically worn grooves in the carpet from the bedroom to the living room where the men had gathered. Rain continued to beat against the window and there were occasional flashes of lightning, although the storm had begun to let up.

Grady smiled indulgently at his brother-in-law, grateful that the electricity was back on. “Babies take as long as they take,” he said wisely. He reclined in the leather chair and laced his fingers behind his head, rather pleased with his insight.

“That’s easy for you to say,” Laredo snapped in a rare display of temper. “It’s not your wife in there giving birth to your child. Let’s see how calm you are when Caroline delivers.”

The grin faded from Grady’s face. Laredo had a point.

“Birthing babies is a whole lot different from bringing calves into the world,” Cal said. Grady’s best friend leaned forward and rested his arms on his knees, then glanced at his watch.

Grady was surprised when he checked the time. It was already past midnight, and it could be hours more before Savannah’s baby was born. Not one of the assembled group showed any sign of being tired, much less leaving. Caroline and Jane were with Savannah, and his daughter was in bed upstairs. Six-year-old Maggie had tried to stay awake but fell asleep in his arms around ten.

Laredo had been with Savannah from the first but returned to the living room periodically to make his reports. Grady watched his brother-in-law with interest. Laredo was so pale he looked in danger of passing out.

“I had no idea it would be like this,” Laredo mumbled, ramming all ten fingers through his hair.

“That it’d take this long?” Grady asked.

Laredo vigorously shook his head. “No—that I’d feel this scared, this nervous. Savannah and I must’ve read ten books about pregnancy and birth, and I thought I was ready. Hell, man, I’ve been around horses and cattle all my life, but this is nothing like I expected.”

Those books were the very ones Grady and Caroline were reading now. His wife was two months pregnant. Grady had been walking on air from the moment she’d told him. He’d thought about the baby a lot, his excitement building as he watched his own sister’s pregnancy progress. He and Caroline had told only a few people, since she was months from showing.

To Grady, his wife had never looked more beautiful. Maggie was pleased and excited at the prospect of becoming a big sister. What Grady hadn’t considered was this strange emotion Laredo exhibited.

Fear.

He hadn’t thought of his child’s birth as a frightening event. He’d imagined himself a proud father, holding his infant son or daughter. He enjoyed the prospect of people making a fuss and giving their opinions on which parent the baby resembled. Friends would come to visit and it would be a time of celebration and joy.

But tonight Laredo had destroyed his illusions. In his imaginings, Grady had glossed over the actual birth. Until now. Beyond any doubt, he knew that when it was Caroline’s time to deliver their child, he’d be as bad as Laredo. Pacing, worrying, wondering. Praying.

“I’m going back in there,” Laredo announced as though he couldn’t bear to be away from Savannah a moment longer.

Grady stood, slapped his friend on the back to encourage him, then sank into his seat again.

“We’re going to be just like him, you know,” Cal said.

Grady nodded in agreement. “Worse, probably.”

Cal grinned. “When’s Caroline due?”

“The end of October.”

“You two certainly didn’t waste any time, did you?” Cal teased.

“Nope.” Their wedding had been the last week of October, and Caroline was pregnant by the first week of January. They’d hoped it would happen quickly, seeing as Grady was already well into his thirties and Maggie was going on seven. It made sense to start their family early.

As the wind howled, Cal looked out the window. “Why is it babies are always born during a storm?”

“It probably has something to do with barometric pressure.”

Cal scratched his head. “You think so?”

The hell if Grady knew, but it sounded good. The phone pealed in the kitchen and the two men stared at each other.

“It’s probably Glen and Ellie again,” Cal said.

Cal’s brother and his wife lived in town and would have been with them, Grady suspected, if not for the storm.

Grady answered the phone. “Nothing yet,” he said, instead of his usual greeting.

“Why didn’t anyone phone me?” Dovie Boyd Hennessey demanded. Dovie and Savannah had been close since the death of Savannah’s mother, Barbara, seven years earlier. Dovie owned and operated the antique shop, which sold everything from old scarves and jewelry to valuable china cups and saucers, all arranged around antique furnishings. The women in town loved to shop at Dovie’s; she was universally admired and treasured by the town.

“Savannah’s in labor and I only now find out,” Dovie said as though she’d missed the social event of the year.

“Who told you?” Grady asked. The women in Promise had a communication system the CIA could envy.

“Frank, naturally,” Dovie told him. “I guess he talked to Laredo earlier this evening. He just got home.” She paused for breath. “Has the baby come yet?”

“Nope, and according to Jane it could be hours before the blessed event.”

“How’s Savannah?”

“Better than Laredo,” Grady said.

Dovie’s soft laugh drifted over the line. “Give her my love?”

“Of course.”

“And call me the minute you hear, understand? I don’t care what time of day or night it is.”

“You got it,” he said on the tail end of a yawn.

“Don’t let me down, Grady.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he assured her.

By the time he returned to the living room, Cal had picked up a magazine and was flipping through the pages.

“You read that one an hour ago,” Grady reminded him.

“So I did.”

A few minutes later Caroline came into the room, and Grady leaped to his feet. “Sit down,” he urged his wife. “You look exhausted.” She should have been in bed hours ago, but he knew better than to suggest it. Caroline was as stubborn as they came, but then so was he. They understood each other, and he could appreciate her need to be with her best friend.

“It won’t be long now,” she told him as she slid her arms around his waist. “The baby’s crowned.”

Grady nodded. “Wonderful. How’s Savannah?”

“She’s doing well.”

“And Laredo?”

“He’s holding Savannah’s hand and helping her with her breathing.” Grady sat down, pulling Caroline onto his lap. She pressed her head against his shoulder, and he kissed her temple.

Grady glanced in Cal’s direction and found he’d folded his arms and shut his eyes. Caroline’s eyes were closed, too, and Grady decided to rest his own. Just for a few minutes, he told himself.

An infant’s cry shattered the silence. Grady jerked awake and Caroline jumped to her feet and shook her head. “Oh, my goodness!” she gasped.

Grady hadn’t a clue how long they’d been out. Cal straightened and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.

“The kid’s got one hell of a pair of lungs.”

A few minutes later the bedroom door opened and Laredo emerged, carrying a tiny bundle in his arms. Grady noted that his friend’s eyes were bright and his cheeks tear-streaked.

“We have a daughter,” he said, gazing with awe at the baby he held. “Laura Rose, meet your family,” he whispered to the newborn. “This is your uncle Grady and aunt Caroline.”

“Hey, don’t forget me,” Cal said, stepping over to gaze down at the baby.

“That’s Cal,” Laredo continued. “His wife’s the one who coaxed you into the world.” Laredo gazed at the small group gathered around the baby. “Isn’t she beautiful?” he said. “Doesn’t she look like Savannah?”

Grady studied Laura Rose carefully and decided she looked more like an alien, but he certainly didn’t say so.

Another hour passed before Grady and Caroline were in their own home and their own bed. Fortunately the rain had ended. Grady had carried a sleeping Maggie from Savannah’s place to the car and then into her room; she never did wake up. He was exhausted, too. This had been a night to remember. His sister was a mother, and for the first time in his life he was an uncle. Damn, but it felt good.

Caroline pulled back the covers and joined him. She sighed as her head hit the pillow. “Did anyone phone Dovie?” she asked.

“I did,” Grady said as he reached for the light.

“Good.” Caroline rolled onto her side. “I think I could sleep for a week,” she mumbled.

Grady drew his wife close, cuddling her spoon-fashion. His arm went around her and he flattened his hand against her stomach and grinned, feeling extraordinarily happy. Soon Laura Rose would have a cousin.

TRAVIS AWOKE AND LAY IN the warm bed, unwilling to face the bright morning light. Not just yet, anyway. Something warm nestled against his feet, and he was content to stay exactly as he was for a few more minutes.

Despite his exhaustion, he’d had a hard time falling asleep. It didn’t help that his legs stuck out a good six inches over the end of the bed. Those cowboys must’ve been pretty short guys, he thought wryly.

His eyes flew open as his toes felt something damp and ticklish. He bolted upright to find a goat standing at the foot of the bed, chewing for all it was worth. It didn’t take Travis long to realize that the animal had eaten the socks clean off his feet. All that remained were a few rows of ribbing on his ankles.

Obviously, once he’d fallen asleep, he’d slept deeply—the sleep of the jet-lagged. He laughed and wiggled his toes just to be sure the socks were the only thing the goat had enjoyed. So far, so good.

“Yucky, what are you doing in here?”

The door flew open and Nell’s boy—Jeremy, if Travis remembered correctly—rushed inside.

The boy planted his hands on his hips and glared at the goat.

“’Morning,” Travis said.

“Hi.” Jeremy smiled and must have noticed Travis’s feet for the first time because he burst out laughing. “Yucky ate your socks!”

“So I noticed.”

“Sorry,” Jeremy said, sounding anything but. He covered his mouth to hide a giggle, which made the situation even more amusing. “Mom said to tell you breakfast will be ready in twenty minutes if you’re interested.”

Travis didn’t need a second invitation. His stomach growled at the mere mention of food. If the cinnamon roll the night before was any indication, Nell Bishop was one hell of a cook.

Travis dressed, showered and shaved, entering the kitchen just as Nell set a platter of scrambled eggs and bacon on the table.

“’Morning,” he greeted her.

“’Morning,” she returned and poured him a mug of coffee.

Travis gratefully accepted it and pulled out a chair. Nell joined him and the children, and the three bowed their heads for grace. The instant they were through, Jeremy reached for the platter.

His mother sent him a warning glance and Jeremy immediately passed the platter to Travis. “Here,” the boy said. “You’re our guest. Please help yourself.”

Travis was impressed with the boy’s manners. So many children didn’t seem to have any these days. He forked some fluffy scrambled eggs onto his plate and took a piece of toast from a bread basket in the center of the table. He gave Nell a sidelong glance as she buttered her own toast. She was obviously doing her best to be a good mother. The owner of the B and B had told him Nell was a widow, and he admired her for the loving manner in which she schooled her children.

“You collected all the eggs?” Nell asked Emma, interrupting his thoughts.

“Yes, Mama.”

“Did you check under Bertha?”

The little girl grinned and nodded.

“I understand,” Nell said, turning to Travis, “that we owe you a pair of socks.”

He glanced up from his plate and saw that her mouth quivered with the beginnings of a smile.

“Best darn pair I owned.”

“Your feet must’ve been pretty ripe to attract Yucky’s attention,” Jeremy said.

Travis couldn’t help it; he burst out laughing. Nell, however, didn’t take kindly to her son’s comment. Jeremy read his mother’s look and mumbled an apology.

Breakfast was wonderful, the food even better than he’d expected and the company delightful.

As soon as the kids had finished, they excused themselves and set their plates in the sink, then rushed out the back door.

“The children have animals to tend before they catch the school bus,” Nell explained before he could voice his question.

“I see.”

“Jeremy’s got rabbits. Then there’s Yucky, whom you’ve already met.”

“We have a close and personal relationship,” he said, leaning back in his chair, savoring the last of his coffee.

“Currently we have twelve horses, but I plan on buying several more. Jeremy feeds them grain and alfalfa, and Emma makes sure they have plenty of water. I’ll be mucking out the stalls later this morning.”

Travis could see that they had their chores down to a science and admired the way they all worked together. Briefly he wondered about Ruth, but guessed she reserved her strength for later in the day.

Nell cleared the remaining dishes from the table. “Take your time,” she said as she put on a sweater and headed toward the door.

“Can I help?” he asked.

“Not at all. Just enjoy your coffee.”

Travis did as she suggested and watched from the window as Nell and the children worked together. They were a real team, efficient and cooperative. Half an hour later Jeremy and Emma raced into the house and grabbed their lunch boxes from the counter.

“We gotta go to school now,” Emma said, staring at Travis as though she’d much rather spend the day with him.

Jeremy was on his way out when he paused. “Will you be here tonight?”

Travis had to think about that. “Probably.”

“I hope you are,” the boy said. “It’s nice having another man around the place.” And with that, he flew out the door.

Travis rinsed his mug and set it beside the kitchen sink. He met Nell as he left the house. “Do you mind if I plug my computer into an outlet in the bunkhouse? I want to get some work done while I’m here.”

“Not at all,” she said, her smile congenial.

Whistling, Travis returned to the bunkhouse and retrieved his laptop from his bag. With a minimum of fuss, he located an outlet and set up shop. The computer hummed its usual greeting as the screen saver reminded him that he was one hell of a good writer—a message he’d programmed in to battle the deluge of self-doubts all writers faced.

The note was just the boost his ego needed before he dug into his latest project. He’d achieved indisputable success with his series of Western stories for preadolescents and young teens. The book he planned to write next might possibly be his best; he could feel that even before he wrote the first word. A mainstream novel set in a Western ghost town—his editor had been ecstatic over the idea.

Travis never did the actual writing while he was on the road, but he wanted to document facts about the storm from the night before. One of his characters was sure to lose his socks to a hungry goat, too. He prided himself on the authenticity of his details, although in his past books, most of that background had come from research.

Rarely did anything happen to him that didn’t show up in a book sometime, one way or another. He used to think he kept his personal life out of his work, but that was a fallacy. Anyone who really knew him could follow his life by reading his books. The connections weren’t always direct. Take the end of his marriage, for example. Of the two books he’d written the year of his divorce, one took place in Death Valley and the other on the River of No Return. Those locations had corresponded to his emotional state at the time.

He didn’t want to stop and analyze why a ghost town appealed to him now. Maybe because his life felt empty and he struggled with loneliness. Travis realized without surprise that he envied Nell her children.

He entered notes about Texas, the drive from San Antonio, his impressions of the landscape and the people. The storm was described in plenty of detail. He made notes about Nell and her children. Ruth, too.

The next time he glanced up, he was shocked to discover it was midmorning. He stored the information onto a computer file and headed for the kitchen, hoping Nell kept a pot of coffee brewing during the day. He didn’t expect to see her, since she had stalls to muck out and plenty of other chores, many of which he knew next to nothing about.

He was pleasantly surprised to find her in the kitchen.

“Hello again,” he said.

“Hi.”

The spicy aroma of whatever she was cooking made him instantly hungry, despite the fact that he’d enjoyed one of the finest breakfasts he’d eaten in years.

“What are you making?” he asked. He noticed a can of beer sitting by the stove at—he glanced at his watch—10:35 a.m.! He wondered with some concern if she was a drinker…but then he saw her add it to whatever was in the large cast-iron pot.

“It’s chili,” she said. “Would you like a taste?”

“I’d love it.”

Nell dished up a small bowl and brought it to the table where Travis sat. “This might sound like a silly question, but did you happen to mention to Ruth how many nights you intend to stay?”

He delayed his first sample, wondering if Nell was looking for a way to get rid of him. He’d be keenly disappointed if that was the case. He happened to like Twin Canyons Ranch. His visit would add texture and realism to his novel. And being here was so much more interesting than staying at a hotel, or even at a bed-and-breakfast.

“I’m not sure yet,” Travis said in answer to her question.

He tried the chili. The instant his mouth closed over the spoon he realized this was the best-tasting chili he’d ever eaten, bar none. The flavors somersaulted across his tongue.

“What do you think?” she asked, her big brown eyes hopeful.

“If you don’t win that prize, I’ll want to know why.” He scooped up a second spoonful.

“You’re not just saying that, are you?” Her eyes went from hopeful to relieved.

“If I was the judge I’d award you the prize money without needing to taste anyone else’s. This is fabulous.”

Nell’s freshly scrubbed face glowed with a smile. Travis had seen his share of beautiful women, but he felt few would compare with Nell Bishop and her unspoiled beauty. The kind she possessed didn’t require makeup to enhance it. She was as real as a person could get.

“I made a terrible mistake when I saw you on the road yesterday,” she said, suddenly frowning a little.

“How’s that?”

“I implied you were…not too bright…” She pulled out a chair and sat across the table from him. “I was wrong. You’re obviously very bright, indeed!”

CHAPTER 3

“HOW COMEYOUWERE ASKED to be one of the judges for the chili cook-off?” Glen asked Ellie as they walked toward the rodeo grounds. The air was charged with excitement.

“Just clean living,” his wife replied and did her best to disguise a smile. Actually it had more to do with her participation in the Chamber of Commerce. But her husband had done nothing but complain from the moment he learned she’d been asked to judge the chili. It was a task he would have relished.

“I’m the one who happens to love chili,” he lamented—not for the first time.

Unable to help herself, Ellie laughed out loud. “If you want, I’ll put your name in as a judge for next year,” she said, hoping that would appease him.

“You’d do that?” They strolled hand in hand toward the grandstand. Luckily the ground had dried out after the recent rain. The rodeo was one of the most popular events of the year, along with the big summer dance and the Willie Nelson Fourth of July picnic. The town council always invited Willie to the picnic, but he had yet to accept. With or without him, it was held in his honor, and his music was piped through the park all day.

“Sure will. I’ll let Dovie know you want to be a judge next year,” Ellie promised. “Consider it just one of the many benefits of marrying a local businesswoman.”

Glen wrapped his arm about her waist and gave her a squeeze. “I know all about those benefits,” he said and kissed the top of her head.

He raised his hand so that it rested just beneath her breast. “Glen,” she warned under her breath.

He sighed and lowered his hand to her waist.

Ellie saw Jane and Cal and waved. Dr. Texas immediately returned her wave, and the two couples sauntered toward each other.

“So you’re going through with it,” Glen said when he saw his brother.

“I can’t talk him out of it,” Jane said, rolling her eyes.

“I’ve competed in the bull-riding competition for ten years,” Cal argued. “Besides, if I’m injured, I know one hell of a fine physician who’ll treat me with tender loving care.” He winked at his wife.

From the look Jane tossed her husband, Ellie suspected she’d be inclined to let him suffer. Grinning, she reflected on how well her matchmaking efforts had worked. She gladly accepted credit for pairing Cal with Jane; the match had been brilliant, if she did say so herself. Jane had moved to Promise as part of a government program in which she agreed to work for three years at the community health clinic in exchange for payment of her college loans.

Cal, of course, had been burned in the romance department several years earlier when his fiancée had dumped him a couple of days before their wedding and skipped town. In addition to the hurt and rejection he’d suffered, Cal had been left to deal with the embarrassment and the questions that followed. For years afterward he’d refused to have anything to do with women.

Until Jane.

She’d moved to town after living her entire life in California. Poor Jane had been completely and totally out of her element until Dovie took charge. One of the first things Dovie had done was introduce her to Ellie.

In the beginning Ellie wasn’t sure it was possible for them to be friends. Jane had an attitude about all things Texan, and it rubbed her—and just about everyone in town—the wrong way. Everything she said and did had an air of superiority.

Jane’s start had been rocky, that was for sure. Ellie smiled as she remembered that first lunch in which she’d suggested Jane take her wine-sipping, quiche-eating butt and go back where she’d come from. She was grateful now that Jane had decided to stick it out.

When Ellie set up the date between her distrustful brother-in-law and the doctor-with-attitude, she knew she was taking a chance. It would have been just like Cal to take one look at the setup and walk out of the restaurant. He hadn’t. In fact, he’d shocked both Glen and Ellie when they discovered that he’d agreed to give Jane horseback-riding lessons.

They were married within six months and Cal was happier than she could ever recall seeing him. He hardly seemed like the same person.

“I have a feeling I could win this year,” Cal said.

“He’s been claiming that every year since he first entered,” Glen muttered just loudly enough for everyone to hear.

“I’m gonna win,” Cal insisted, defying his brother to challenge him.

“This is a man thing,” Ellie explained to her sister-in-law. “Glen competes in the calf-roping event.”

“I have the blue ribbons to prove it.”

Cal winced at the small dig. “Ouch, little brother.”

“Calf roping I can tolerate, but watching Cal on those huge bulls is something else again.” Jane looked at her husband, and Ellie saw a spark of genuine fear in her friend’s eyes. She had to admit she was grateful Glen wouldn’t be competing on the bulls.

“I’ve done everything I know to talk him out of this,” Jane confided as the two women made their way to the grandstand and found seats in the second row. Both men were by the chutes, chatting with their friends and making small talk with the professional rodeo riders.

Jane clenched her hands in her lap.

“It’ll be fine,” Ellie assured her. “Cal’s no fool.”

“How can you say that?” Jane said, biting her lip. “Only a fool would risk his neck riding an ill-tempered beast who weighs as much as the state of Texas.”

Ellie laughed.

“If…if Cal happened to get hurt, I don’t know if I’d be able to treat him.”

“You love him that much?” Ellie asked.

“Yes, but that’s not the reason. I don’t think I could stop myself from clobbering him for worrying me like this.”

Ellie laughed outright, although she understood.

The grandstand quickly filled to capacity as the competition time neared.

“I heard a wild rumor,” Ellie said, hoping to distract Jane from her worries. “Someone told me Willie Nelson might make a surprise appearance at the dance later this evening.”

“You’re joking!”

She shook her head. “I don’t know if it’s true, but that’s what people are saying.”

“That would be wonderful. What brought it about?”

“I’ve heard he likes surprising people now and then.” She gave a slight shrug. “He knows this is Willie country and he’s never been able to come to our Fourth of July picnics. Maybe that’s why.”

“My parents went to hear him recently,” Jane said. “They said he isn’t going to replace the Beach Boys in their eyes, but the music was entertaining.”

“Give ’em time,” Ellie said.

The calf-roping event was one of the first on the program, and Ellie wasn’t surprised when Glen took first place. She loved the way he raced after the calf, roped him on the first try and maneuvered the animal onto its back. He made it all look so easy. But when he tied the animal’s legs, then tossed his hands in the air and leaped back, his eyes didn’t go to the time. Instead, they zeroed in on Ellie and he’d smiled that secret little smile meant for her alone. Only then did his gaze go to the clock.

When his time was announced, Ellie jumped to her feet and applauded loudly. Pursing her lips around her index finger and thumb, she released a piercing whistle. Jane stood with her and the two of them made several victory punches in the air.

“How long before Cal rides?” Jane asked after they sat back down.

“Pretty soon.”

Jane placed her hands between her knees and took several deep breaths. Ellie gently patted her shoulder. “Hey, it’s only eight seconds.”

“A bull like that could kill him in one.”

Ellie let the comment slide. “Cal knows what he’s doing.”

Jane nodded, but she looked pale. Ellie realized how difficult this was for her. Not having been raised around cattle ranches, Jane must view these competitions as barbaric. Ellie decided she hadn’t given her sister-in-law the credit she was due for marrying into this whole new way of life.

When the competition had begun and Cal’s name was announced, Jane bit her lip and closed her eyes. Cal sat high in the chute on the bull’s back, his concentration intense. The door opened, and man and beast plunged forward. The bull snorted, shaking his massive head, determined to dislodge his rider.

Jane leaped to her feet and covered her mouth with her hand. Ellie had just stood up, too, when Cal went flying off the bull’s back. There was a collective drawing in of breath as the crowd waited for him to jump out of the bull’s way. The clowns diverted the bull’s attention, but Cal remained on the ground.

“Dear God!” Jane cried. “He’s hurt. I knew it, I knew it.” She was already stumbling past everyone in the row, Ellie right behind her. “I swear if that fall didn’t kill him, I will.”

By the time they made it down to the steps, Cal had been carried off the grounds on a stretcher. Just as they reached him, they heard the final contestant’s name being called.

Glen, who was with his brother, took Ellie’s hand. Jane knelt beside her husband, tears in her eyes.

“It’s all right, honey,” Cal said, clutching his ribs. He gave her a smile but was clearly in pain.

“He’s had the wind knocked out of him,” Glen said.

Jane began to unfasten Cal’s shirt.

“Jane—not in front of all these people,” Cal said in a feeble attempt at humor.

“Be quiet,” she snapped.

“Best not to cross her in this frame of mind,” Cal said, then groaned when Jane lightly pressed her fingertips against a rib.

“I’ll need X rays, but my guess is you’ve broken a rib.”

“It won’t be the first.”

“But it’ll be the last one you’ll ever get riding bulls,” Jane said in a voice few would question.

“Whatever you say.”

“You might want to take this with you.” Max Jordan, a local business owner, hurried over to join them.

“Take what?” Glen asked.

Max grinned broadly and handed Cal a blue ribbon. “Congratulations, Cal! You stayed on longer than anyone.”

Despite the pain it must have cost him, Cal let out a loud triumphant cry.

TRAVIS HAD BEEN WRITING for years. He’d researched rodeos and even written about them—but this was the first one he’d actually attended. Jeremy and Emma had volunteered to be his guides, and he welcomed their company. Nell was busy adding the final touches to her chili; judging would take place later in the afternoon. The last time he’d seen Ruth, she’d introduced him to two friends, Edwina and Lily Moorhouse, sisters and retired schoolteachers. One of them had mentioned something about cloves—cloves?—a special cordial, and the next thing he knew, all three women had disappeared. Made no sense to him.

Now that the rodeo was over, Jeremy and Emma decided it was time to show Travis the booths. It seemed everyone in town had something on display. All new to Travis. The closest thing New York had to this was the farmers’ market, in which everything from rip-off brand-name running shoes and “real” French perfume to home-grown vegetables and spicy sausages was sold.

Travis and the kids wandered by the long tables where the chili was being cooked. “Hi, Mom,” Emma called.

At the sound of her daughter’s voice, Nell turned. She wore a pretty blue cotton dress with a white bib apron over it.

“I wondered where you two had wandered off,” she said.

“The kids are playing tour guide,” Travis explained. “They’re doing a good job of showing me the ropes.” He ruffled Jeremy’s hair, and the youngster grinned up at him.

“I hope they aren’t making a nuisance of themselves.”

“On the contrary.” They were likable kids, and seeing the rodeo and other festivities through their eyes had been a bonus.

“I’ll get my purse so you can buy your lunch,” Nell told her children.

“That’s all right, Mom,” Emma said. “Travis already fed us.”

Nell’s gaze briefly met his.

“We didn’t ask,” Jeremy added, apparently recognizing the look in his mother’s eyes.

“It was the least I could do,” Travis said, not understanding why she’d be disturbed about something so minor.

“My children and I pay our own way, Mr. Grant,” she said before he could say anything else.

“It was my pleasure, Nell—honestly. Without Jeremy and Emma, I would’ve been lost.” Both kids had taken delight in tutoring him in each of the rodeo events. They’d also shared tidbits about the community and its traditions, and the education he’d gained had been well worth the price of a couple of hamburgers and ice-cream bars.

“When are the judges going to be here?” Emma asked.

Nell glanced at her watch. “Not for another hour.”

“You’re gonna win,” Jeremy said with confidence.

“I’m crossing my fingers for you, Mom.” Emma held up both hands to show her.

“Good luck,” Travis tossed in.

“We’re headed for the carnival now,” Jeremy said. “I promise I won’t spend all my allowance.”

Nell nodded and glanced at Travis. “Listen, everyone, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you earlier. I guess I’m more nervous than I realized about this contest.”

“That’s all right, Mom.”

“No apology necessary,” Travis said, thinking it was unusual these days to find anyone willing to apologize. It was a sign of maturity and inner strength, and he admired her for it. In fact, there seemed to be quite a bit to admire about Nell Bishop….

“Have fun at the carnival,” she said, stirring her chili.

“We will.”

“If they don’t mind, I’ll tag along just for the fun of it,” Travis said to Nell. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d been on a Ferris wheel—probably when he was younger than these two; and maybe he could convince Jeremy and Emma to go on it with him.

He’d never spent much time around kids, although his books were geared to them. Life was full of ironies such as this, he reflected. Valerie used to say he related to children because he’d never grown up himself, and he supposed it was true. She’d meant it as an insult, but Travis had considered it a compliment.

They had a wonderful afternoon on the midway, and he loved every minute. He let Jeremy and Emma spend part of their allowance, but he paid for most of the rides. They went on the octopus, a ride he remembered from his boyhood, and Emma covered her eyes, screamed the entire time, then insisted they do it again.

“Don’t spend all your money on us,” Emma said when he bought them each a huge cotton candy.

Travis was half-tempted to say there was plenty more where that came from, but decided it would be a crass comment. “Don’t worry…” he began.

“Be happy,” Jeremy completed for him.

“Right,” Travis said and chuckled. He enjoyed children, always had. That was one reason he’d chosen to write for the age group he did. His overwhelming success had surprised even him.

“In that case, could I have some popcorn, too?” Emma asked.

Laughter bubbled up inside him. Both of these children were forthright and honest, hardworking and appreciative—and they had a sense of humor. It would be unfair to compare them to children in New York, since he knew so few, but he was sure these two were special. As special as their mother.

“Have you met Dovie?” Emma asked a short while later between mouthfuls of popcorn.

Dovie—not dove. A name. “No, I haven’t.”

“You gotta meet Dovie,” Jeremy said, directing him away from the carnival rides.

They led him to a large booth set up close to the chili cook-off area. A friendly, slightly rotund, older woman stood in front of a colorful patchwork quilt.

“Hi, Dovie,” Jeremy said.

“Hi, Dovie,” Emma echoed.

“Hello, Dovie.” Travis figured he didn’t want to be left out.

Dovie looked at him and blinked, as if she was afraid she should’ve recognized him and hadn’t. Jeremy and Emma burst out laughing.

“This is Travis,” Emma said and reached for his hand. It was an innocent gesture, but it tugged at his heart.

“He’s staying at the ranch,” Jeremy added.

“From what I hear, I’m the first paying guest,” Travis explained.

“Pleased to meet you,” Dovie said, holding out her hand. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m wondering if I could interest you in a raffle ticket for this fine quilt.”

“Of course.” Travis reached for his wallet.

“The Dorcas Group at church is raffling it off to raise money for missions.”

“How much?”

“A dollar each, or six for five dollars.”

Travis pulled a ten from his wallet. “Give me twelve tickets.”

Dovie flashed him an appreciative smile.

“He’s a good guy,” Jeremy said proudly.

“I like him, too,” Emma added.

Travis tucked the ticket stubs securely into his hip pocket and wished Dovie luck with the quilt.

“Thank you. How long will you be in town?” she asked.

It’d been a common question all day. “I’m not sure yet.”

“I hope you enjoy yourself.”

Emma took his hand again. “You ready?” she asked. “For the chili judging?”

“Sure,” he returned.

“Is it time?” Jeremy asked.

Emma nodded.

A crowd had gathered around the chili cook-off area and the judges, five of them, stepped forward to do their taste tests. The samples were numbered so it was impossible to tell who had cooked which chili.

“That’s Ellie Patterson,” Jeremy whispered. “She owns the local feed store.” A pretty brunette sampled the first taste and nodded in approval.

“I hope that was Mom’s,” Emma said.

So did Travis. The taste she’d given him the day before was fabulous and nothing like any chili he’d tasted before. He’d accidentally discovered her secret ingredient was beer but had been sworn to secrecy.

In his short visit he’d learned quite a bit about Texas chili, which was different from anything he’d tasted in New York City or on his previous travels. In Texas the chili was thick with meat and spices and it wasn’t made with beans.

“That’s Mr. Jordan,” Jeremy said, identifying the next judge. “He owns the Western-wear shop.”

Someone called Billy D, owner of the local tavern, and Adam Braunfels, a restaurateur, tasted next.

The last one to try the chili samples was a large rancher type.

“Who’s that?” Travis asked.

“Pastor McMillen,” Jeremy whispered back.

That surprised Travis. The man looked like he’d be more comfortable on a horse than in a pulpit.

After all the judges had sampled the entries, they cast their votes. The crowd grew quiet with anticipation as the town sheriff, Frank Hennessey, stepped forward with the results of the voting.

Emma stood next to Travis with her eyes tightly shut, her hands raised and fingers crossed.

Sheriff Hennessey cleared his throat. “It was a difficult decision this year, but it appears that one entry stood out as the most flavorful. The voting is unanimous. The winner is—” the faint sound of a drumroll could be heard in the background “—number five.”

Travis frowned, not knowing who the winner was until he noticed Nell. She stood there as though in a daze.

“Nell Bishop,” Frank Hennessey shouted cheerfully as a stunned Nell moved slowly toward the microphone. “It gives me a great deal of pleasure to present you with this check in the amount of five hundred dollars.”

Nell might be in shock, but Travis noticed that she snapped out of her stupor fast enough when it came to reaching for the check. The crowd loved it.

Following the competition, spoonfuls of chili, dished up in small paper cups, were left for the crowd to taste. People surged toward the table that held the samples labeled “number five.”

“Yay, Mom!” Emma said, rushing forward and hugging her mother.

“This is really cool,” Jeremy said. He exchanged a high five with his mother.

Travis barely knew Nell Bishop, but he was as thrilled that she’d won the cook-off as if the success had been his own.

NELL WAS EXHAUSTED. Exhilarated but exhausted. Adam Braunfels, one of the judges and the owner of the Chili Pepper, the best restaurant in town, pulled her aside when the competition was over. He told Nell her chili was the best he’d ever tasted and that he’d like to talk with her later about the possibility of buying her recipe. He wanted to serve it in his restaurant. Nell could hardly believe her ears.

Following their conversation, Adam handed her a ticket for a free meal and suggested she stop off at his booth for dinner. Nell sat at one of the picnic tables at the far end of the rodeo grounds and savored a barbecued-beef sandwich and a heaping cup of coleslaw. It was the first time she’d eaten all day; she’d simply been too nervous before.

Jeremy and Emma were with their grandmother, who’d taken them home. The kids had chattered incessantly about Travis Grant. Apparently he’d shown them the time of their lives and they sang his praises to all who’d listen.

“Do you mind if I join you?”

Her thoughts seemed to have conjured up the man. Travis stood directly across the table from her, holding a cup of coffee.

“Please.” Nell gestured toward a chair, and Travis sat down.

“Congratulations again,” he said.

“Thank you.” She was dying to tell someone about her conversation with Adam Braunfels, but held her tongue. Nothing was definite, and she didn’t want to say anything until the details were settled.

“From what I understand, I owe you a debt of thanks,” Nell said. “The kids told me this was the best rodeo of their lives, and all because of you.”

“I was just about to thank you for sharing them with me. They’re terrific kids, Nell.”

“I think so, too.”

She pushed aside the rest of her dinner and reached for her coffee. After being on her feet all day, she was grateful to be sitting. “Ruth drove them home,” she said unnecessarily. She’d stayed to clean up the kitchen area and talk to Adam, but was so relaxed now she wasn’t sure she’d find the energy to move.

“I heard someone say Willie Nelson was coming for the dance later,” Travis mentioned.

“Don’t believe it.” Nell hated to be the one to disillusion him. “This is Willie Nelson country. We love him, and we send him an invitation to a picnic in his honor every single year.”

“He’s never come?”

“No, but then, we don’t really expect he will. He’s got bigger and better places to perform. We understand that and love him, anyway.” Whether or not Willie showed, the people of Promise would continue to enjoy his music. Willie Nelson represented everything they loved about country music.

“Tired?” Travis asked.

“A little.” An understatement if there ever was one.

“Too tired to dance?”

It took a moment to understand the question. Travis Grant was asking her to dance with him. She stared at him, unsure how to respond. It was kind of him, offering to be her partner. With anyone else she would have found an immediate excuse to decline. Not with Travis. For one crazy moment she actually considered it.

“Thank you, but no,” she finally said.

If she’d disappointed him, Travis didn’t let on.

Nell checked her watch, thinking it was time—past time really—to head home. The band, a popular local group, was playing in the background. The stage wasn’t in sight, but well within listening range.

“They sound good,” Travis said.

They did. Much better than Nell remembered, but then, it’d been more than three years since she’d stayed for the evening festivities.

All at once a crazed cheer rose from the audience and the announcer’s voice came over the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s a pleasure to introduce the good people of Promise, Texas, to Willie Nelson.”

Nell’s gaze flew to Travis. “This has got to be a joke,” she said.

But even before the words were out, the opening strains of “Whiskey River” echoed across the grounds.

Her fatigue gone, Nell leaped to her feet and hurried toward the dance area. So did everyone else within shouting distance. Travis was right behind her.

Nell and Travis never did get to see him. The crowd grew so thick they couldn’t do more than listen. Willie sang three numbers to wild applause, then suggested everyone dance. The music flowed, smooth and easy. People around her paired off, even though they weren’t anywhere near the dance floor.

Travis smiled down at her. “Shall we?” he asked, stretching out one hand.

Nell couldn’t stop looking at him long enough to decline. It wasn’t that Travis was a handsome man. His face was too angular, his features too rugged to be considered pleasing.

He took her lack of response as answer enough and slipped his arm around her waist. His hold was loose and gentle. A lifetime ago Nell had loved to dance. Jake had possessed two left feet, but he’d made an effort for her sake.

Travis danced as if he knew exactly what he was doing—and as if he enjoyed it. What surprised her was how well they moved together, how gracefully.

“Don’t look so shocked,” he said with a laugh. “Big men aren’t all klutzes.”

“The same applies to big women.”

“You’re not big,” he countered. “In fact, I’d say you’re just about perfect.” He brushed a stray lock of hair from her forehead, and his fingertips lingered a moment longer than necessary.

Nell didn’t know what madness possessed her, but she closed her eyes and allowed herself to indulge in a fantasy. She didn’t pretend that the man holding her was her dead husband. That would have been too painful. Instead, she fantasized that she was a different kind of woman, willowy and lithe, petite and beautiful. Like the young Audrey Hepburn of Sabrina, a movie Nell had loved all her life.

It was the night for such dreams.

The dance ended almost as soon as it had begun. Too soon. Nevertheless, she didn’t dare to continue. Didn’t dare to indulge in any more fantasies.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I’ve never enjoyed a dance more.”

“Me, neither,” Travis said, his voice low and sounding vaguely unlike him.

Of one accord they turned and walked across the grounds, toward the parking area.

“Nell.” He stopped her in the shadow of the grandstand.

“Yes?”

“Don’t be angry.”

“Angry? Whatever for?”

“For this,” he whispered. He turned her around to face him, then lowered his mouth to hers.

CHAPTER 4

HIS KISS LEFT NELL FEELING lightheaded, as if she’d been out in the sun too long. His lips lingered on hers, his arms firm about her waist. He would have kissed her a second time, she sensed, if she hadn’t moved her head just then. She needed a moment to compose herself, to gain perspective and deal with what had happened—what she’d allowed to happen. At any point she could have stopped him…and hadn’t.

“I…wish you hadn’t done that.” Her voice trembled, shaky with shock and wonder. What astounded her as much as his kiss was how much she’d enjoyed it.

“Are you looking for an apology?”

His voice was close to her ear and she realized that he still held her.

“I could give you one if you wanted,” he went on, “but it wouldn’t be sincere.”

She smiled at his words and eased away from him. There was definitely something in the air tonight that had caused her to behave so completely out of character.

“It’s because of today,” she said aloud. “The whole day.” One of the best days she’d had in three years of grief and struggle.

“The day?” Travis repeated, walking at her side as they continued toward the parking lot.

She glanced at him, surprised she’d spoken aloud. Since she had, she couldn’t very well leave him in the dark. That would be rude and unnecessary. If he was to continue paying for room and board, then she had best set boundaries between them now. Kissing was definitely out of bounds.

“Naturally I’m flattered that you’d want to kiss me.”

“I’d like to do it again, if you’re not opposed.”

She shook her head. “I’d rather you didn’t.”

He was quiet after that, but not for long. “What did you mean when you said it was because of today?”

She exhaled slowly. “Winning the chili cook-off. The kids having such a wonderful time. Willie Nelson showing up like that. Dancing in the moonlight…I wasn’t myself. I wasn’t thinking—otherwise that kiss would never have happened.”

“How weren’t you yourself?” he prodded.

Nell was much too tired to endure an inquisition. “I just wasn’t.”

“How?” he pressed.

“I was happy, excited…”

He couldn’t seem to leave it at that. “You aren’t normally?”

“No,” she returned shortly. “Not for the last three years.”

A silence followed her words. Nell heard his sigh.

“You must have loved him very much.”

She didn’t hesitate. “More than life itself. In many ways I died with my husband. Nothing will ever be the same again.”

They paused in front of her battered pickup. The Dodge was well past its prime. It’d been ready for the scrap heap when Jake was alive, but Nell had coaxed three more years from it; she prayed the truck would last another year.

“I disagree,” he said.

His words cut into her thoughts. She raised questioning eyes to him. “What do you mean?”

“You loved Jake, and it’s obvious you two shared something very special. But you didn’t die with him. The woman I kissed is alive and healthy. She’s vital and lovely and passionate.” He raised his hand as if to touch her face, but changed his mind and slowly lowered it. “I felt your heart pound against mine. The woman I kissed is alive, Nell. She has a lot to live for.”

“I—”

“You might prefer to think of yourself as dead, but you aren’t.”

His words surprised her more than his kiss. She didn’t know how to respond, how to react. Ruth had been saying the same thing to her, but in different words. All this time she’d resisted, afraid she’d lose even more of Jake than she already had. This was dangerous stuff, too dangerous to think about right now. She’d leave it for another time.

“You haven’t dated since Jake died?” Travis asked.

She shook her head.

“What’s the matter with the men in this town?” he asked in a way that suggested they were idiots.

“Grady Weston asked me to the big summer dance last year.”

“And?”

“And I turned him down. Glen Patterson, too.”

“Nell, no.” He planted his hands squarely on her shoulders. “Wake up. Look around you. Breathe in the cool night air and let it fill your lungs. Let yourself feel.”

He spoke with such intensity all she could do was stare at him.

“You don’t believe anything I’ve said, do you? I can see it in your eyes.”

Instantly she lowered her gaze. “I’ll never have with anyone else the kind of love I had with Jake.”

“Of course you won’t,” he said.

The man said and did the most shocking things.

“Jake was Jake,” he continued. “Any relationship you might have with another man will be different from your marriage to Jake because that man will be different from Jake.” He paused. “The problem, Nell, is that you haven’t seen it this way. The way you see it, any other man is destined to fall short because he can never be a replacement for the original.”

She had to admit Travis made sense. It was exactly what Ruth and Dovie and several others, Savannah included, had been trying to tell her. Either she hadn’t fully understood or she hadn’t been ready to listen.

It hit her then that Travis spoke as if he was familiar with this type of loss. “You lost your wife?” she asked him.

Now it was Travis who looked away. “In a manner of speaking.”

“What manner?” He’d prodded and pried, now she did the same.

“I’m divorced.”

“You loved her?”

“Very much,” he said, “and I assumed she loved me. But apparently I was wrong.”

Nell waited for him to go on, and after a moment he did.

“She met someone else.” Travis buried his hands deep inside his pockets as though he felt a need to suppress his anger, even now. “Someone who could give her the things she needed, the things I couldn’t—and I’m not just talking about money.” He sounded philosophical, but beneath his matter-of-fact statement, she recognized his pain. Recognized it because she’d experienced a similar pain.

“Tony, Val’s new husband, sets her on fire,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I didn’t.”

Nell might have accepted the words at face value if not for one thing. He’d held her and kissed her. There was definitely fire in him, and it was burning strong. Maybe his ex-wife hadn’t provided enough kindling, she mused—and felt some amazement that such a thought had occurred to her. “Bitterness wouldn’t solve anything, so I decided to do what I could—go on with my life, put the past behind me.”

“Have you?”

“I like to think so.” He said this as if he expected her to challenge him. “How is it we’re talking about me? You’re the one who’s still living in the past, not me.”

“Really?”

Travis chuckled and held up his hand. “Enough. Your point is well taken. We’re both among the walking wounded.”

Nell smiled. “Perhaps we could learn from each other,” she suggested.

Travis nodded. “Perhaps we can.”

They drove back to the ranch in separate vehicles. Travis pulled into the yard seconds behind her.

“Good night,” she called, offering him a friendly wave as she headed toward the house. A single light shone above the back porch door. In all likelihood Jeremy and Emma were sound asleep; it would surprise her if Ruth was still up.

“’Night, Nell.”

Once inside the house, she climbed up the stairs to her room, undressed in the dark and sat on the edge of her bed, reviewing the events of the day. When she turned on the bedside lamp and took out her journal, it wasn’t the five-hundred-dollar prize money she thought of. Instead, she found herself writing about Travis’s kiss and the discussion that had followed.

JEREMY AND EMMA had been up for at least an hour by the time Nell got out of bed. Sundays were just as hectic as schooldays because chores needed to be finished before they left for Sunday School and church.

Nell had coffee brewing and was cracking eggs for French toast when the kitchen door opened and Travis strolled casually inside. “’Morning,” he said, helping himself to coffee.

“Good morning,” she said, whipping the eggs into a frothy mixture before adding the milk. The griddle was ready and she had six slices of egg-soaked bread sizzling in short order.

“You coming to church with us?” Jeremy asked as he and Emma dashed in.

“Ah…” Travis glanced at Nell.

“It’s the Lord’s day,” Emma said severely as if there should be no hesitation on his part.

“You’re welcome to join us if you wish,” Nell said.

He didn’t show any sign of reluctance. “I’d enjoy that.”

At breakfast Jeremy sat on one side of Travis, Emma on the other, the children accepting him as easily as they would a much-admired uncle.

“We’re lucky Mr. and Mrs. Patterson didn’t have any rooms left to rent,” Jeremy said.

“Real lucky,” Emma agreed.

“With the rodeo over, the Pattersons should have plenty of room,” Ruth muttered as she walked into the kitchen, yawning.

The news landed like a bombshell in the kitchen. The children stared at each other as though they’d just learned the horrible truth about Santa Claus. Nell felt an immediate sense of disappointment, but Ruth was right. Phil and Mary would have space available for Travis now, and the accommodations would be far more comfortable than a too-short mattress in the bunkhouse. At Phil and Mary’s, Travis wouldn’t need to worry about a goat eating the socks off his feet, either.

“That’s true. Mr. Grant could move into town,” Nell said, trying to sound as though it made no difference to her. It shouldn’t, but hard as she tried to convince herself it would be best if Travis left, she hoped he wouldn’t.

Every eye went to their guest. “Move into town?” he repeated, glancing at each in turn. “Would anyone mind if I stayed on here? Your goat and I have recently come to terms. It would be a shame to leave now.”

She shouldn’t be this happy, Nell decided, but she was. She really was.

“WHAT TIME IS IT?” Frank Hennessey mumbled as he rolled over in the large feather bed and stretched his arms to both sides.

“Time for you to be up and dressed,” Dovie said. “Church starts in less than thirty minutes.”

“Church,” Frank groaned. “Dovie, you know how hard it is for me to sit through Sunday service.” But he eased himself up in bed to enjoy the sight of his wife fluttering about the room, hurriedly dressing. Dovie was a fine-looking woman and he took pleasure in watching this woman he loved.

It’d taken him long enough to make the leap into marriage. Not many men waited until they were sixty years old—maybe that was why the decision had been so hard. He might have remained single all his life if not for a woman as wonderful as Dovie. Their arrangement was perfect, he’d thought. Twice a week he spent the night. Two of the best nights of any week.

Dovie, being the kind of woman she was, had wanted them to get married. He’d led her to believe that eventually he’d be willing, and for ten years he’d believed it himself. Then all at once Promise experienced a rash of weddings and Dovie became possessed by the idea of marriage.

That was when he’d realized he simply wasn’t the marrying kind. Painful though it was, he’d confessed to Dovie that he just couldn’t do it—and she’d promptly ended their relationship. Those weeks apart had been agonizing for him.

He loved her, but he’d broken his word to her, and although he hated himself for hurting the woman he adored, he couldn’t give up the comforts of his life as a bachelor. For instance, the fact that his house was a mess. It was his mess, though, and he knew where things were. Dovie wouldn’t tolerate the unsightly stack of magazines by his recliner or the pile of laundry beside his bed.

Marriage meant more than making a commitment to her, he’d thought; it meant he’d be forced to alter his entire life. At sixty such a drastic change didn’t come easy.

Things had looked hopeless—and grew even worse when he made the mistake of taking Tammy Lee Kollenborn out one evening. That was the night he’d known he could never love anyone but Dovie. Afterward, when Dovie had gone away on a short cruise, he’d been terrified she’d meet another man. It seemed inevitable that he was going to lose her, and the knowledge was destroying him.

The solution had come from an unexpected source. From the man he’d assumed would be the least understanding. Reverend Wade McMillen. Frank owed him big time. The local preacher had suggested that Frank and Dovie get married but maintain separate households, the same as they were already doing. Then they could both have what they wanted. What they needed. Dovie had the commitment she craved, the wedding band on her finger. And Frank was free to eat baked beans out of a can in front of the television, wearing nothing but his underwear, if he so desired.

“Dovie,” he whispered softly, watching a silk slip float down over her breasts and hips. “Come here, love.”

“Don’t you use that tone of voice with me, Frank Hennessey. I’m running late as it is.”

“Dovie,” he coaxed and sat up. He held out his arms to her. “How about a good-morning hug?”

“Not now.”

“No?” Frank was surprised. Dovie rarely refused him anything, especially when it came to what she called “the delights of the flesh.” He’d never met a woman like her. Dovie was a lady to the core, but when it came to lovemaking, she was both lusty and generous.

“It won’t stop with a hug and you know it,” she chastised.

He did know it and he sighed deeply.

Dovie disappeared into her closet.

“Where are you going now?” he called.

“Out of sight, out of mind,” she called back, giggling.

Frank tucked his hands behind his head and closed his eyes. He didn’t bother to tell her it didn’t work that way, at least not with him. The time they’d been apart, he’d done nothing but think of her. Thoughts of Dovie had tormented him day and night, until he was sure he’d lost his mind.

“Do that again,” he said, savoring these moments in bed.

“Do what?” came her muffled question.

“Giggle.”

“That’s a silly thing to ask.” But she did.

Frank loved the sound of it. He had to smile every time he heard her giggle. Or laugh. Or just heard her, period.

Dovie reappeared a minute later in a royal-blue dress that buttoned up the front and belted at the waist. She braced one hand on the bed post as she slipped into her pumps.

“I’m going to do something with my hair and then I’m heading for church.”

“No hug?”

One outraged glance answered the question. Frank laughed.

“I’m driving out to see Savannah, Laredo and the baby after church,” she said.

“Do you mind if I tag along?” he asked.

Apparently his question caught her by surprise because she abruptly stopped brushing her hair and met his gaze. Her eyes softened. “You want to see the baby?”

Frank nodded. “That surprises you?”

“Yes. Do you like babies?”

“Actually I’m quite fond of children.” It was his one regret in life. He’d give anything to have met Dovie as a young man and had children with her. She would have been a wonderful mother, just as she was a fabulous wife. “I would have liked kids of my own,” he confessed with a hint of sadness.

She continued to stare at him and he noticed a sheen in her eyes—as though she was about to weep.

“Dovie?” he asked gently. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, damn,” she said, sniffling. “I’m going to ruin my makeup and I don’t have time to fuss with it now.”

Frank climbed out of bed and reached for his robe. “What is it, Dovie?” he asked again.

“I always wanted children,” she whispered. “So badly.”

“I assumed you and Marvin decided not to have a family,” he said. They’d never discussed the subject, and it seemed strange to be doing so now.

“We couldn’t have children,” Dovie said. “Marvin…had the mumps as a teenager. I never complained, but…”

“Couldn’t you have adopted?”

“Marvin wouldn’t hear of it. I asked him to reconsider many times, and he refused. As much as I wanted to be a mother, I couldn’t bring a child into our home when my husband felt the way he did.”

“I’m so sorry, Dovie.”

She attempted a smile. “It was a long time ago. I don’t even know why I’m crying. But when you said how much you regretted not having children, I realized…why I love you so much.”

The hug he’d been longing to collect all morning was now given with spontaneity. Frank held her tight and closed his eyes.

“Perhaps Savannah and Laredo will allow us to be substitute grandparents for Laura Rose,” he whispered.

“I was thinking the same thing,” Dovie said. She cradled his face and smiled, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “I love you, Frank Hennessey.”

“I wish we’d met years ago,” he said, voicing his earlier thoughts.

“We met at exactly the right time,” she told him. “Any sooner and I would’ve been married.”

“Any later, and you might’ve been with that judge you met on the cruise. The Canadian guy.”

“Perhaps,” she admitted, but skeptically. She dabbed at her eyes. “Frank, I really must rush. You know how compulsive I am about being on time.”

Frank checked his watch and knew if he hurried, he’d have time to dress and join her.

“I’ll go with you,” he said.

“Any reason?” she asked.

“Several reasons—but if I take the time to list them, we’ll be walking in during the middle of Wade’s sermon.”

TRAVIS WAITED UNTIL JEREMY and Emma had left for school on Monday morning before he approached Nell, who was in the barn. “Ruth said I’d find you here,” he said, feeling a bit awkward.

She was busy tending a newborn calf, but glanced up and smiled when he entered the barn. Kneeling in the straw, feeding the animal with a large baby bottle, she explained that the calf was one of twins and had been rejected by its mother. Once again Travis found himself admiring her compassionate capable nature.

They exchanged a few pleasantries as she worked, and when she’d finished, he opened the stall gate for her.

“Thanks,” she said, walking over to the barn faucet where she washed and dried her hands. “So what can I do for you?”

“Do you have time to talk for a few minutes?”

“Why?” she asked bluntly.

“Well, I’m a writer,” he explained, “and I’m working on a project that has to do with this area.”

“All right,” she told him, “but I haven’t got time to stop now. I need to go out and check the fence line. Tag along if you want.”

“I’d enjoy that.”

It wasn’t until Nell led a gelding out of his stall that he realized she didn’t intend to use the truck. Travis had ridden before—in Central Park. Years ago.

“You’re going on a horse?” This probably wasn’t the most intelligent question he’d ever asked. But he had to weigh his decision; on the one hand, he wouldn’t mind some Western riding experience and it would be a chance to talk to her. On the other, he didn’t want to risk looking like an idiot in front of a woman he found very attractive.

“You don’t ride?” she asked in a voice that suggested she should have thought of that herself. She expertly placed the saddle on the gelding’s back.

He hesitated before he answered. “A little.”

“You’re welcome to join me if you want. I’ve got Jake’s saddle and you’d fit that comfortably.”

“Is Jake’s horse still around?” He figured that would have to be an older horse, which could only help his situation.

“Yup.”

“Does he take to strangers?”

“Some.”

“That’s encouraging.”

Nell tossed back her head and laughed, her long braid swaying. “Come on. It’ll be fine.”

Within minutes she’d brought a huge quarter horse out of his stall. Travis watched her saddle him, amazed at her ease with animals.

“Twister, meet Travis,” she said, handing him the reins.

Travis found it amusing that she’d introduce the horse to him and not the other way around.

She led the two geldings outside into the sunlight. With a swift graceful motion, she mounted. “Do you need help getting up?” she asked when he stood there, unmoving.

He tried to look as if the question had insulted him; actually he wouldn’t have objected to her holding the reins while he swung his leg over the saddle. With a mighty effort he did manage to scramble onto Twister—appreciating the fact that Nell didn’t laugh at him.

As they started out, she set a slow easy pace, for which Travis was grateful.

“You wanted to ask me about the area?” she reminded him.

“Yeah,” he said jerkily as his butt bounced against the saddle. “Te-ll m-e wh-at you kn-ow abou-t the gh-ost town.”

Nell eased to a stop. “Ghost town?” she asked, frowning.

Twister, following the other horse’s lead, stopped, as well. “If I remember correctly, it’s called Bitter End.”

“That’s why you’re here?” she asked. “Why you came to Promise?” She nudged her horse into a trot. “I thought you were a writer!”

“Yeah.” Travis managed to keep pace with her, but not without a price. If he survived this with all his teeth intact…“I am. And I w-want to—”

“Who told you about Bitter End?” she asked, stopping her horse again. The warmth she’d shown him had cooled noticeably. “You’re from New York,” she said. “You know Richard Weston, don’t you?”

“I met him once, yes, but, Nell—”

“What did he tell you about Bitter End?” she demanded. “We were afraid of this,” she muttered, not looking at him. “Everyone was.”

“Afraid of what?”

“It doesn’t concern you.”

“Nell, if you’d give me a chance to explain.” He shifted in the saddle, wishing he could touch her, reassure her in some way.

“You’ve already said everything I need to know. You’re a friend of Richard’s—”

“No, I’m not! Don’t even think that. I met the man once, Nell. Just once. For a couple of hours. But it only took me a couple of minutes to see the kind of person he is.”

That brought her up short. Her gaze returned to him, cautiously, as if she wasn’t sure even now. But he could see she wanted to believe him, wanted to trust him. He yearned for that as much as he did her kisses.

“Valerie, my ex-wife, defended him—she was his state-appointed attorney. Richard mentioned the ghost town to her, and she told me. I was intrigued. A ghost town from the Old West, one that’s basically undiscovered and hasn’t been commercialized. I wanted to see it for myself, as background for a project I’m working on.”

Nell said nothing. Then she said, “So you came all this way because of Bitter End?”

“That’s what initially brought me here. Yes.” But he liked the people of Promise, especially Nell and her family.

“Now I suppose you’re looking for some one to take you there?”

“Yes—I want to see the town.” He wanted to learn the history behind it, too. It was more than just a ghost town, if what Weston said was true, and Travis was hoping to unravel its secrets, include them in his book.

“I’m afraid you’ve made a wasted trip.”

Her unwillingness to help him took him by surprise.

“I won’t take you to Bitter End. And no one else will, either.”

She sounded stubborn about it, but he could be stubborn, too. “I’m going there,” Travis said. “I’ll find it, Nell. Others have and so will I. But I’d rather we did it together.”

“I can’t…I won’t. You don’t understand.”

“Then explain it to me.”

“That town has done nothing but bring Promise grief. We just want to forget about it.”

“What aren’t you telling me?” he asked.

His question seemed to catch her off guard. She was silent for a long time; when she spoke again, it was with the seriousness of a woman who knows more than she wants to. “Nothing good has ever come out of that place. Nothing. The best thing for you is to forget you ever heard it mentioned.”

“You’ve been there?”

“No,” she admitted reluctantly.

“Then how do you know? Who told you? How many people have actually been in the town?”

Nell shrugged, not answering him.

“Then how can you be so sure if you’ve never been there yourself?”

“Everyone knows,” she whispered.

“But you’ve found out where it is?”

She hesitated. “I have a vague idea where it might be.”

“Where?”

Nell made a sweeping motion with her arm. “It’s out there somewhere. Exactly where, I couldn’t tell you.”

“And even if you could, you wouldn’t.”

She nodded.

“This is a historic site. Doesn’t anyone understand that?”

“Bitter End?” Nell laughed without amusement. “Why is it so important to you?” she asked again.

“Curiosity, mainly,” he told her. “Like I told you, I’m a writer and I’m using a ghost town in my book. I wanted to make it as authentic as possible. I’m also intrigued by the mystery.”

“Well, you’ll have to ask someone else to take you, because I won’t.”

“Who, then?”

“I doubt that anyone will. But you might try Grady Weston.”

Richard Weston’s brother, Travis remembered.

“I wish you well, Travis. If you ride back to the house, Ruth will give you the Westons’ phone number.” Having said that, she galloped off, leaving him to make his own way back to the barn.

“All right wister,” Travis said, doing his best to sound calm. “It’s you and me, boy. We’re friends, right?”

He pulled on the reins to reverse their direction. “See the barn, Twister?” He pointed toward it. “Let’s walk there…slowly.” Apparently the horse didn’t care for Travis’s tone of voice, because he took off at a gallop. It was all Travis could do to stay in the saddle.

When he reached the barn, he managed to dismount, then, legs shaky, succeeded in removing the saddle; the bridle he left for Nell. He coaxed Twister into the stall with his name on it, then tottered back to the house.

That afternoon when he phoned Grady Weston, he learned Nell wasn’t the only one with strong feelings about Bitter End. It took him several hours to reach the other man; once he did, Weston practically bit his head off. In no uncertain terms, he made it clear that he’d have no part in satisfying Travis’s curiosity. Travis supposed Grady’s aggression could be attributed to his negative feelings about his brother.

Nell sought him out in the bunkhouse an hour or so later. “Did you speak to Grady?” she asked, her mood more conciliatory, or so it seemed.

“Briefly.”

“And?”

“And he isn’t willing to show me where Bitter End is, either. Just like you predicted.”

She nodded. “You’ll be leaving, then?”

“No.”

It wasn’t the answer she’d expected; he could tell by the way her eyes widened. “No?”

“I’m going to locate Bitter End, Nell, with or without this town’s help.”

CHAPTER 5

NELL WAS FURIOUS WITH TRAVIS, but she didn’t know why. That morning, as she’d ridden across her property checking the fence line, she’d thought about him. And she’d thought about Bitter End.

Just when she was beginning to like Travis, really like him, she’d discovered that he had an ulterior motive. He’d made friends with her children, kissed and flattered her, pampered Ruth. All this because he wanted her to take him to Bitter End.

He’d been open enough about telling her he was a writer. Now everything was beginning to fall neatly into place. His job was what had brought him to Promise, probably with all expenses paid by his publisher. She should have suspected he had an ulterior motive for befriending her and her family. He was planning to write about Bitter End—although she didn’t really know why. He’d told her he was working on a book. What kind of book? she wondered, and what, exactly, did he hope to achieve?

What really infuriated Nell was his comment about Bitter End being a historical site. He seemed to be implying that Texans were a bunch of hicks who didn’t appreciate their own history. Well, that was the furthest thing from the truth! She knew as much about this state’s history as anyone around here. In fact, she thought grimly, maybe she respected history more than that…that Easterner. That wannabe cowboy. At least she recognized that the past still had power over the present—the way Bitter End had power over Promise.

Everything she’d ever heard about the town had been negative. Her family’s roots went back to the original settlement, which had been founded shortly after the Civil War; so did Jake’s. Something ugly had happened there, something horrible. Whatever it was, it’d been disturbing enough to cause everyone to vacate the town. No one knew why, and for years and years the town was rarely mentioned. When people did discuss Bitter End, they spoke in hushed whispers. Now some ignorant Yankee wanted to turn it into a historical site!

When Richard Weston was fleeing the authorities, he’d holed up in the town, and that made sense. He belonged there, if anyone did. Richard had figured out where the town was partly because of Savannah. Despite Grady’s objections, she’d explored the countryside to find Bitter End in her quest for lost roses.

Nell had asked Savannah about it, and she’d watched a shiver move down the other woman’s arms as she recounted her visits. Savannah had mentioned an impressive find in the cemetery—Nell had forgotten what the roses were called. Savannah had gone on to describe the eerie feeling that had come over her; she’d hurriedly taken the rosebush and left.

Later, convinced she’d allowed her imagination to run away with her, Savannah had returned, hoping to rescue other roses. She’d told Nell the most astonishing fact. Nothing grew inside the town. Not even a weed. The town was completely without life.

Yet all Travis saw was a money-making opportunity. He’d come to Promise to dig up information about a place best forgotten. Despite everything she’d said, everything Grady had told him, he’d insisted he was going to find Bitter End. Then he’d write about it and attract more people, strangers, to the town. Soon tourists would pour into Promise and their lives would no longer be their own. No one here knew why the settlers had abandoned Bitter End—and Nell thought it was better to leave things that way, to let whatever secrets were buried there lie forgotten. She wasn’t the only one to feel this way.

She wished now that Travis had chosen to move into town, to the bed-and-breakfast. Phil and Mary would know better how to handle his curiosity.

Nell closed her eyes and groaned at the memory of how pleased she’d been when he decided to stay on at the ranch. She felt lost and inadequate; worse, she felt foolish for having allowed this man to weave his way into her life.

She understood now that he had his own reasons for kissing her, for encouraging her kids, for staying at her ranch.

Reasons that had nothing to do with her.

SAVANNAH HAD JUST PLACED Laura in her crib when someone knocked on the back door.

“Anyone home?” Unexpectedly her brother stepped into the kitchen.

“Grady, come in.” Savannah didn’t bother to hide her surprise. It was unusual for him to drop by the house on his own. Her home was only a short distance from the ranch house, and while Grady visited often, it was almost always with Caroline and Maggie.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Wonderful.” The birth had been the most incredible experience of her life. Savannah had known there’d be pain and had prepared as best she could for labor. What she hadn’t known was how she’d feel afterward—that sensation of stunned joy and amazement, that surge of accomplishment and pride.

In her arms she’d held living proof of her love for Laredo. Together they had created this new life, this beautiful child.

“I was just about to have a cup of tea,” Savannah said, crossing to the stove. “Would you care to join me?”

Grady removed his hat and set it on the oak table. “Sure.”

He’d get around to explaining his visit in his own time. Savannah could see no need to rush him.

She filled two cups and carried them to the kitchen table, then sat across from him. He asked her a few questions about the baby, but she noticed that he wasn’t really paying attention to her responses. He was thinking, weighing his next words, wondering if he should approach her about the reason he’d really come. After living with Grady all those years, Savannah knew him well, better than he realized.

“Nell’s guest called me,” he said casually as he stirred a second spoonful of sugar into his tea.

Nell’s guest! That was the reason for this visit. The sugar had given him away. Grady seldom added sugar to anything, and two teaspoons was particularly telling.

“I don’t believe I’ve met him,” she said.

“His name’s Travis Grant. Seems nice enough—Caroline and I met him at the rodeo.”

“Oh?”

“Like I said, he phoned yesterday.”

“Really?” She remained calm, unaffected.

“He knows Richard.”

The words hit her without warning and Savannah stared at her brother. A sinking sensation came over her, and a deep sadness. Her younger brother had been sentenced to twenty-five years in prison without parole. It hurt to think of Richard locked behind bars. She’d written him twice, once shortly after he’d been taken back to New York to stand trial and then after he’d received his sentence. He hadn’t answered either letter.

“Actually it was Grant’s ex-wife who introduced him to Richard,” Grady added. “Apparently she was the court-appointed attorney who defended him.”

“Did this Travis Grant tell you what he wanted?” It went without saying that if Richard was involved, their brother was looking out for his own selfish interests.

Savannah often wondered what had turned Richard into a man who acted without conscience or compassion. Her heart ached every time she thought about him. Why? She would never understand why he’d used his family, why he’d betrayed good people, why he’d exploited the vulnerable.

Twice he’d stolen from her and Grady. The first time had been the day they’d buried their parents. While Grady and Savannah stood beside the grave, Richard was sneaking away with the forty thousand dollars in cash left them by their father. Six years later he’d returned with a hard-luck story, needing a place to stay.

Savannah blamed herself for what happened next, since she’d been the one who convinced Grady to let him stay. But Grady wouldn’t let her accept the blame. He insisted they were equally at fault because he’d known what kind of man Richard was and had closed his eyes to the obvious. Both of them felt an obligation to family, and they both wanted to believe their brother had changed.

Within a few months of arriving back in Promise, Richard had charged thousands of dollars at various stores in town, using the Weston accounts, the Weston name. When it was all uncovered, Richard had conveniently disappeared, leaving Grady to foot the bill. Only after he was gone did Grady and Savannah learn the whole truth. Richard had been on the run—from his unsavory creditors and “partners” and from the law. The New York City D.A.’s office had a list of charges long enough to put him behind bars until he was an old man.

What hurt Savannah most wasn’t the fact that Richard had destroyed her faith in him; it was learning that her brother was guilty of bilking immigrants. He’d helped get them into the country illegally, then forced them to live and work in deplorable conditions. If that wasn’t bad enough, he’d confiscated their money. He’d been one of several men accused and convicted of a crime so heinous she cringed every time she thought about it. That her own flesh and blood had hurt innocent people in this way had devastated her. Men, women and children had suffered because of her brother.

“Richard told Travis about Bitter End,” Grady continued.

Savannah exhaled a deep sigh. “So Travis is here to find it?”

“That’s what he says.”

“For what purpose?”

“I don’t know for sure. He’s a writer, so I imagine he’s doing research for an article about Bitter End.”

Savannah thoughtfully replaced her cup. “What did you tell him?”

Grady scowled, then met her eyes.

“Grady Weston, what did you do?”

He gave her a wry smile. “Now I know where Caroline gets that tone of voice. I should have recognized it was from my very own sister.”

“You were rude, weren’t you?”

He shrugged. “I told him to mind his own damned business. I said there wasn’t a soul in this town who’d help him, and advised him to give up his search now.”

“Oh, Grady.”

“I don’t think he’s going to take my advice.”

Savannah mulled over this information for a couple of minutes. “I’m beginning to think it might be a good idea to put the past to rest.”

“What do you mean?”

“No one knows what happened in Bitter End,” Savannah reminded him. “No one’s sure why the entire town up and moved. It almost seemed to take place overnight. From what Ellie told me, there were still cans on the shelves in the mercantile store. People left furniture, clothing, all kinds of valuables behind. They were in such a hurry to leave they couldn’t get away fast enough.”

“It was probably some disease or something to do with the water,” Grady reasoned.

“Perhaps. I’m sure there’s a logical explanation for what happened. All I’m saying is it’s time to find out what went wrong and why. And who better than a writer? Someone who knows how to research and how to separate fact from legend. A stranger. Someone who can approach this without the emotions and fears we all have about Bitter End.”

Grady didn’t look convinced. “As far as I’m concerned, it’s best not to disrupt the past.”

Savannah considered her brother’s words. “A year ago I would have agreed with you.”

“But not now?” he asked, sounding surprised.

“Not now,” she said. “Having Richard home was a painful and bitter lesson. It taught me that turning away from the truth, ignoring trouble, is a dangerous thing to do.”

“It isn’t like we’re hiding anything,” Grady insisted. “No one knows what went wrong in Bitter End.”

“Then don’t you think it’s time we did?”

“Why?”

“Because, as the Bible says, the truth shall make you free.”

“I’m free now,” Grady said. He stood up and walked over to stare out the window above the sink.

“We aren’t free, Grady,” she offered gently. “Otherwise we wouldn’t be this afraid.”

“I’m not afraid,” he countered sharply.

She didn’t contradict or challenge him, but she knew that wasn’t entirely true. Whatever had happened all those years ago in Bitter End still haunted them. In Savannah’s opinion, it was time to bring it into the light, expose it and deal with the consequences. Each generation has been influenced by Bitter End, whether they admitted it or not.

Savannah recalled the first time she’d heard about the ghost town. Grady had been the one to tell her. He’d heard their parents talking when he was a teenager, discussing this secret place and its mysterious past. Afterward Grady, Cal and Glen had decided to find the town and, in the manner of boys, went about making it their own private adventure. Savannah had wanted to join them, but they didn’t want a girl hanging around.

She would have gone to look for it on her own, except that Grady had said he’d take her to Bitter End once he knew where it was. Naturally she had to promise not to tell anyone, especially the Patterson brothers.

The three boys had eventually located the town. But Grady never did take her there; it was the first and only time he’d broken his word. All he’d tell her was that something horrible must have happened in that place. She remembered how he’d closed his eyes and shivered and vowed he was never going back.

His words had remained with her for a long time.

About a year ago she’d sought out the town herself. According to an article she’d read, abandoned cemeteries and homesteads were often a good source of nineteenth-century roses. That motivation was strong enough to let her put aside her apprehensions about the place. After weeks of searching, she’d stumbled upon the town, hidden deep in the hills. Only then did she understand what her brother had meant.

The instant she’d stepped onto the main street of Bitter End, a feeling had come over her, an eerie sensation of anxiety and dread. And yet she couldn’t have named the reason, couldn’t have said what she feared.

Afterward she managed to convince herself that she’d imagined the entire episode. So she returned. But she’d been right the first time. Something was there—not a ghost, but a persistent feeling of intense sadness, a haunting sorrow.

“Let him do it, Grady,” she said, releasing a pent-up sigh. “Let him find out what happened in Bitter End. Let Travis Grant expose whatever wrongs were committed there.”

“You think a stranger can do that?”

“He can start.”

Her brother pondered her words, his face thoughtful. Then he slowly shook his head. “It isn’t often I disagree with you, but I do now.”

“You’re not going to help Travis find Bitter End?”

“No.”

She accepted his decision, but deep down, she wondered how long it would take him to change his mind. Grady was having second thoughts already; otherwise he wouldn’t have come to her in the middle of the day. Especially during the busiest time of the year.

Savannah knew she was right, and she knew Grady would eventually see it. Beneath his doubts he, too, felt a need to lay this matter to rest once and for all.

TALK ABOUT STIRRING UP a hornets’ nest, Travis mused as he sat and stared at his blank computer screen. Nell had avoided him all day. And after speaking to Grady Weston, it wouldn’t surprise him if the other man was busy rounding up ranchers to tar and feather him. All this because he’d asked a few questions about a ghost town. Why were they so intent on keeping this secret, whatever it was?

He wondered if the people here even knew what had happened in that town. Perhaps they were being influenced by fears and vague suspicions rather than facts.

Travis preferred to face problems, not let them fester. He believed in knowledge and the power of truth. Shutting down the computer, he leaned back in the chair, hands behind his head, reviewing his options. Soon, however, he discovered that his thoughts weren’t on Bitter End anymore.

Instead, he was thinking about Nell. Despite her disapproval of his plans, he admired her strength and courage. He was attracted to her, he admitted that, and he sensed she felt the same way. Even if she preferred to ignore it.

Travis decided to get a breath of fresh air and he reached for a sweatshirt. He walked out of the bunkhouse and around the yard, stopping to say hello to Yucky. As he neared the front of the house, he was pleased to find Ruth sitting outside in a rocker, crocheting.

“Travis,” she said with a friendly smile. “Come join me.”

After Nell’s silence and Grady Weston’s explosive anger, Travis was more than grateful for a cordial greeting. He climbed the steps and leaned against the porch railing.

“Was that you I saw on Twister yesterday morning?” Ruth asked.

“Yeah,” he said, not mentioning that he considered himself lucky to be in one piece.

“That gelding’s got a mind of his own.”

“So I discovered.”

Ruth laughed, and he grinned himself. The older woman’s fingers agilely worked the yarn, never slowing. It amazed him that she could carry on a conversation without disrupting her work.

“What are you making?” It wasn’t what Travis wanted to ask—he had questions about Nell. However, any inquiries would have to be a natural part of the conversation. Unobtrusive.

“An afghan,” she answered. “I find crocheting relaxes me.”

He started to comment, but Ruth broke in. “You’re curious about Nell, aren’t you?”

Her directness surprised as much as pleased him. “I won’t deny that I am.”

Ruth nodded. “She’s interested in you, as well. I haven’t lived with her all these years not to understand the way she thinks. Have you kissed her yet?”

Slightly embarrassed, Travis laughed. “Yes.”

“And?”

“And it was very good.”

“You plan on bedding her?”

“That’s none of your business,” Travis said. He wasn’t accustomed to discussing his love life with elderly women, or with anyone else, for that matter. However, he’d certainly fantasized about making love to Nell. She was a passionate woman. Their one kiss had given him a glimpse of that. She was also a woman who didn’t believe in half measures; it was all or nothing. He knew that when it came to love, loyalty or friendship, she held nothing in reserve.

For that very reason, she was reluctant to become involved with another man. The potential for pain was too great.

That was something Travis understood. The breakup of his marriage had been one of the most painful ordeals of his life. He’d loved Valerie and been stunned to learn that she wanted out of their marriage, that she’d viewed their lives together as a temporary thing until someone “better” came along.

She’d been intrigued with Travis because he was a writer. Later she’d urged him to give it up and get a real job. Everyone knew there wasn’t any real money in publishing. Not unless you were Stephen King. She’d been scornful about his financial prospects.

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