Heart of Texas Volume One Page 4

  “I DON’T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT,” Grady growled at Wiley as they rode back toward the ranch house that afternoon. They’d spent most of the day searching through brush for cows and newborn calves. He was completely drained, mentally and physically. Grady had been up late every night for three weeks, checking on newborn calves in the calving barn. Sleep this time of year was a luxury for any rancher.

  Wiley looked offended. “Hey, I didn’t say a word.”

  “That may be, but you’re about ready to burst with curiosity, I can tell.”

  “Seems to me you’re wantin’ to say your piece, otherwise you wouldn’t’ve mentioned it.”

  It being Savannah and the hand she’d hired. Even now Grady couldn’t believe what she’d done. He had trouble grasping the fact that his own sister could behave like a dithering fool over some saddle bum.

  But he’d had an even harder time accepting what Richard had done. It’d taken weeks for everything to sink in, and even then, Grady couldn’t understand how his own brother could betray them. Only when the bills piled up and the federal government had come after the inheritance tax had he been forced to face the truth. Richard was a bastard, pure and simple. As for Smith…

  “I don’t like him,” Grady announced. That was all he intended to say. If Wiley commented, fine. If he didn’t, that was fine, too.

  “You talkin’ about Laredo Smith?”

  “Smith,” Grady repeated with a snicker. “Mighty convenient surname if you ask me.”

  “Lots of people called Smith.”

  “My point exactly,” Grady snarled. As a rule Wiley wasn’t this obtuse. “I’d bet my snakeskin boots the name’s phony.”

  “He seems like a fine young man to me.”

  It didn’t set well that his friend, his confidant, his foreman would take the other man’s side. “What do you mean?”

  “He’s a real worker. He was up early, wanting to get started in Savannah’s garden before I helped tow his truck into town. We had it to Powell’s by the time they opened, and Paul took a look at it while we were still there.”

  “What’s wrong with it?” Grady had decided he wanted nothing to do with this hired hand of Savannah’s but it was in the best interests of his family to learn what he could.

  “Transmission needs to be replaced and the brakes are shot, too. Paul said once he got the parts, he’d have it running in a couple of days.”

  “Good.” Grady suspected the stranger would disappear about the time his truck was repaired.

  “He doesn’t look like he’s got cash enough to pay for it once the work’s done.”

  “What?” Grady groaned.

  “You heard me. Why else do you think he was lookin’ for a job?”

  They headed toward the creek and slipped out of their saddles to allow their horses a long drink of cool water. Grady didn’t like the idea of Laredo lingering at the Yellow Rose. He’d seen men like Smith before. Drifters, washed-up rodeo riders, shiftless men with shiftless lives. No roots or families. They spent their money as fast as they earned it without a thought to their next meal, let alone the future. They might work hard, but they also played hard and lived harder. Laredo Smith wasn’t the type of man he wanted hanging around his sister, that was for damn sure.

  “Find out anything else about him?” Grady asked, kicking a rock with the toe of his boot. His interest was out in the open now, no reason to hide it.

  Not waiting for Wiley’s reply, Grady climbed back into the saddle with the ease of a man long accustomed to riding.

  “I thought you said you didn’t want to talk about it.”

  Grady tossed his foreman a furious look, but Wiley responded with a knowing chuckle. The old man knew he could get away with saying what he damn well pleased, and an angry glower wouldn’t change that.

  “He let drop a few bits of information on the way into town,” Wiley admitted as he, too, remounted. “He’s been workin’ on the Triple C over in Williamsburg for the past couple years.”

  Grady had heard of the ranch, which was one of the larger spreads in the Texas hill country. He’d spoken to Earl Chesterton, the owner, a time or two at the district cattlemen meetings, but they were little more than nodding acquaintances. Compared to the Triple C, the Yellow Rose was small stuff.

  “You gonna check on him?” Wiley asked in a tone that said he disapproved of the idea.

  Grady snorted. “Why would I do something like that? He doesn’t work for me, remember?”

  “You’re the one with all the questions,” Wiley pointed out.

  “I was curious. You can’t blame me for that, especially when all I’m doing is looking out for Savannah.” He didn’t want to say it out loud, but he was worried about his younger sister. Not once in all these years had she openly crossed him. Not that she didn’t have any opinions, and not that she was meek or passive, like some people assumed.

  Savannah had ways of making her wishes known. Subtle ways. The fact was, he’d come to recognize that when she baked his favorite peach cobbler, she had something on her mind. She’d wait until after dinner; when he was enjoying dessert, she’d sit down with him, sweetness personified, and ask a few harmless—but pertinent—questions. Slowly she’d lead up to what she really wanted, making her point casually and without fanfare.

  Grady always listened, and often her nonconfrontational style worked and he’d change his mind. He considered himself a fair man; if he felt her concern was valid, he acted on it.

  Then Laredo Smith arrived, and suddenly his sister’s behavior had undergone a drastic change. She’d actually raised her voice to him, and all because of this worthless drifter. Well, she was welcome to Laredo Smith. If she wanted to walk around with her heart dangling from her sleeve, acting like a lovelorn fifteen-year-old, he wasn’t going to stop her. By the same token, he wouldn’t offer sympathy when a month or two down the road Laredo left her high and dry.

  “How old is Savannah now?” Wiley asked. “She’s over twenty-one, right?”

  “You know damn well how old she is.”

  Wiley set his Stetson farther back on his head and grinned. “You’re right, I do. I was just wondering if you did.”

  Grady frowned. “She’s old enough to know better.”

  “Old enough to know her own heart, too, I’d say.”

  Grady nudged his gelding, Starlight, into a trot and turned toward the house, following the fence line. He wanted to check that it was secure and ascertain the condition of the windmill and water tank before he headed in for the night.

  “Like I said earlier,” he announced stiffly, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Then you aren’t interested in hearin’ what else Smith said.”

  What Grady wasn’t interested in was playing games. He reined in Starlight and turned to look back at the foreman. “You got something to say, then I suggest you say it.”

  “He’s a wrangler.”

  Grady wasn’t impressed. Wranglers are a dime a dozen in Texas.

  “We could use a good wrangler. Payin’ someone to come in and care for the horses can get downright costly.”

  “I can take care of them myself.”

  “Sure, the same way you can deliver calves, plant alfalfa, move herds and everything else all by your lonesome. Hey,” he said with a shrug, “it was just a suggestion.”

  Despite his dour mood, Grady threw back his head and laughed. “Wiley, why do you think I’m paying you the big bucks? Since you’re so concerned about my welfare, you can be my wrangler from now on. You think we need to take one on full-time? Then I’m naming you the Yellow Rose’s official wrangler. You can feed, water, groom and worm the horses from this day forward. Don’t forget to take care of the tack, too, while you’re at it.”

  “Quit foolin’ around.”

  “Do I look like I’m fooling?” Grady asked with a broad grin. The expression on Wiley’s face was worth a thousand bucks. For the first time in longer than he cared to remember, Grady threw back his head
and laughed until his throat felt raw.

  SAVANNAH SET THE PLATTER OF chicken-fried steak on the oven rack and turned the saucepan of thick cream gravy to simmer. The green beans were tender, and she’d sliced fresh tomatoes from her kitchen garden. An apple pie cooled on the counter. All she needed to do now was stir up a pitcher of lemonade, and dinner would be ready when Grady and Wiley returned.

  With a few extra moments on her hands, she decided to step outside. Laredo had been working all afternoon in the hot sun, and knowing he was probably thirsty, she poured him a glass of iced tea. As she walked into the sunshine, she was honest enough to admit that the tea was only an excuse to be with him.

  Her gardens had never looked better, but she couldn’t find Laredo. He’d been there no more than five minutes ago. Disappointed, she was about to return to the house when she spotted him in the goat pen with Samson and Delilah, her two kids. They were a thank-you gift for the roses she’d given a friend for an anniversary party. Seeing Laredo, she felt her heart go still, and she smiled with pleasure.

  Grady had delighted in teasing her about her pets. He called it a silly woman thing, viewing her goats the same way he did her roses. He didn’t care one whit about something she dearly loved. Roses were her heart, her joy, her passion. Sometimes Savannah wondered if they could truly be brother and sister, their differences seemed so profound.

  Laredo knelt in the grass with the two young goats, petting them, talking to them. Samson, in particular, didn’t normally take to strangers, but apparently Laredo was a special case.

  Savannah wasn’t sure how long she stood there watching. Several minutes, anyway, because the cold glass in her hand had numbed her fingers. Not wanting Laredo to know she’d been spying on him, she returned to the house. She set the glass aside and raised her cold hands to her face, to cool her flushed cheeks.

  Incredibly the urge to cry came over her, and she didn’t know why. She’d barely exchanged a word with Laredo all day; they’d both been busy with their own chores. And yet Savannah had never felt closer to anyone than she did to him for those few moments, watching him with her goats.

  This stranger, this man she barely knew, possessed the ability to touch her soul. Savannah wondered if she’d ever be the same.

  CHAPTER 3

  SAVANNAH ENJOYED LISTENING to Wade McMillen preach. His messages, simple and direct, cut straight to the heart. He was the most unlikely preacher she’d ever seen. A large man, tall and muscular, he looked as though he’d be more comfortable at home herding cattle than delivering sermons. Perhaps that was what made him so popular.

  It might have been her imagination, but Savannah felt the curious stares of those around her. The word about her and Laredo was out, she was sure of it. Now everyone in the town knew she—and not Grady—had hired him.

  Soon she’d be the subject of speculative comments and whispered questions—if she wasn’t already. She felt mortified, but pride helped her hold her head high and look straight ahead. Her mind wandered throughout Wade’s sermon, though, something that didn’t usually happen. When her thoughts weren’t focused on the consequences of her actions, they zoomed with startling ease to Laredo.

  She’d wanted to invite him to church and had tried to broach the subject a number of times, but had lost her nerve. Even an invitation to Sunday-morning worship had seemed rather brash. In light of the interest she’d generated, Savannah would be forever grateful that Laredo wasn’t with her. His presence would’ve set tongue wagging for sure.

  Laredo had worked all day Saturday building trellises, even though she’d insisted she didn’t require him to work weekends. He’d brushed aside her protests and pounded and sawed from dawn to dusk. By the end of the day, a long row of freshly painted trellises stood drying in the late March sun.

  After dinner he sat on the porch with her until Grady arrived. Her brother’s disapproval was evident in everything he said and did. She wanted to plead with Laredo to ignore him, wanted to insist she was her own woman, but again she remained silent.

  A coward, that was what she was. Savannah would’ve given just about anything to find the courage to tell him what was on her mind and in her heart.

  Actually, as Caroline had said, she’d done one thing that made her proud. She’d stood up to Grady, and because she had, Laredo was still at the ranch. Challenging Grady was no easy task. His strong personality had quelled braver souls than hers.

  The congregation stood, and Savannah reached for the hymnal and opened it to the appropriate page. Her soft voice lifted with those in the choir. She glanced over at Caroline, standing in the front row of the choir in her long white robe. Her friend must have noticed because she acknowledged Savannah with an almost imperceptible wink. Savannah relaxed for the first time since she’d entered the church that morning.

  After a closing prayer organ music once again filled the church and the service ended.

  Savannah followed Nell Bishop and her two children out of the pew. Jake Bishop had been killed in a freak tractor accident three and a half years ago. They’d always seemed the perfect couple, so deeply in love—a great team, everyone said. Savannah knew life had been difficult for Nell without Jake and she admired the other woman’s strength. Nell had refused to leave the ranch, working it herself. When asked why she hadn’t sold off the spread and moved into town, Nell had simply explained that keeping the ranch was what Jake would have wanted. Walking with Nell, Savannah felt safe from gossip. The widow was a private person, as she was herself, and would never pry into her affairs.

  Louise Powell stood in the vestibule, craning her neck. Savannah strongly suspected the woman wanted to grill her about Laredo.

  Savannah wished there was some way she could just vanish.

  “Savannah! Savannah, over here!” Louise raised one gloved hand and waved frantically.

  It would do no good to avoid her, Savannah decided miserably. If there was one thing she hated more than gossip, it was being the center of attention.

  As soon as she reached the vestibule, Louise was at her side. Louise had celebrated her fiftieth birthday in January and hated the thought of being a half a century old. In the weeks since, she’d changed her hairstyle and purchased a new wardrobe, trying for a younger look. Unfortunately she came across as a woman who was obviously fifty and dressed like twenty-five.

  “I met your new friend!” Louise exclaimed. Savannah suspected this was Tammy Lee’s influence on her. Tammy Lee— Louise’s new friend—was a middle-aged divorcée whose reputation could charitably be described as colorful. “What a nice young man.” She paused, waiting for Savannah’s comment, but when none was forthcoming, she plowed ahead, wrapping her arm around Savannah’s waist. “I understand he’s working for you.” An annoying giggle followed. “Savannah, I wonder if we really know you, after all. I’ve always thought of you as shy and retiring, but you know what they say about still waters.” The girlish giggle returned.

  “There’s someone I have to see,” Savannah said in an effort to escape.

  “Laredo?” Louise asked. This was accompanied with a squeeze tight enough to make Savannah wince. “If you run out of work for him, you send him my way, understand?”

  “If you’ll excuse me, please…” Savannah said a little desperately.

  The Moorhouse sisters, Edwina and Lily, stepped into the vestibule, distracting Louise. Both were retired schoolteachers. Miss Edwina had been Savannah’s first-grade teacher and Miss Lily her third. The two were inseparable and Savannah loved them dearly.

  “Good morning,” Savannah mumbled as she slipped past the elderly pair.

  By the time she walked outside, she felt like gasping for air. Reverend McMillen stood just outside the large double doors and greeted each parishioner by name. Wade had a way of looking at a person and seeing more than the obvious. “Are you okay, Savannah?” he asked, holding her hand between both of his. “You’re looking flushed.”

  “I’m fine. Just a little warm.” Her discomfort had more
to do with attracting unwelcome attention. All she wanted was to hurry home before someone else had the chance to corner her.

  “Savannah! Savannah!” Maggie Daniels, Caroline’s five-year-old daughter, raced to her side and proudly offered her a crayon drawing she’d made in Sunday-school class.

  “Hi there, Maggie-may. What’s this?” Savannah asked, studying the paper. Maggie was her joy, the child of her heart. It had been a shock when Caroline Daniels announced she was pregnant her senior year in college. From the beginning there’d been plenty of speculation about the father of Caroline’s child, but Caroline had never said, and no one had ever asked. Caroline’s mother, Florence, had served as postmistress in Promise for years, and when she died last spring, Caroline had taken over her duties.

  Maggie had apparently transferred her love for her grandmother to Savannah. It made Savannah feel privileged, and she reciprocated the child’s feelings a hundred percent. Recently Caroline had relied more and more on Savannah to baby-sit, but she never minded. It was a delight to spend time with the little girl.

  “That’s Joseph,” Maggie explained now, pointing to a lumpish figure in her drawing.

  “Ah, I see,” Savannah said. “He’s wearing his coat of many colors. Look what a good job you’ve done!”

  Maggie glowed with pleasure. She tucked her small hand in Savannah’s. “Where’s Mommy?”

  Savannah was about to ask the same thing. The question was answered soon enough hen Caroline exited the side door with the other members of the choir. It generally took her a few moments to hang up her robe and put away the music sheets.

  “Mommy, Mommy, look!” Maggie cried, rushing toward her mother, pigtails bouncing. The youngster threw her arms around Caroline as if it’d been a year since they’d seen each other.

  “Would you like to join us for brunch?” Caroline asked, lifting Maggie into her arms.

  Savannah declined with a quick shake of her head. “I put a roast in the oven before I left.”