More to Texas than Cowboys. Roz Fox Denny
busied herself doing that.
“Mama, Father Kelley said we’re s’posed to call him Noah.”
Flustered, Greer glowered at the fast-disappearing horse and rider. “We can’t. It’s not polite. Why would he say that?”
Shelby looked at her solemnly. “He said ’cause we’re neighbors and he hopes that makes us friends.”
Plugging the player’s cord into the extension, Greer punched the on button. She straightened fast when Missy Elliott’s latest hit tune exploded from the machine. The noise warred with the squeal of the moving van’s brakes until she turned down the volume. “We’ll talk about this later, Shel. I’m going to be very busy for the next couple of hours. If you need anything, yell loudly to get my attention.”
“I need a dog,” she yelled, a cheeky grin spreading over her face. “Did you hear Noah tell me he’s going to get one? He’s driving to the animal shelter next week. Can’t we go with him?”
“Shelby Lynn Bell, no! And don’t be calling Father Kelley by his first name, and I don’t care what he said. Just because chance made us neighbors does not mean we’ll be friends. Remember Mr. Greenfield?” Leaving it at that, Greer hurried down the steps and out to meet the movers. She wasn’t quick enough, however, to miss her daughter’s final retort. The girl said that Noah was nicer, younger and a whole lot cuter than Mr. Greenfield, who looked like a troll.
That observation on Shelby’s part was true, and it was all Greer could do not to laugh. She didn’t, though, because she sensed there were going to be further issues with Noah Kelley. Especially if he got a dog.
Later she’d make time to fortify her position on all fronts. Just now the lead mover had handed her a checklist and insisted she had to point out where she wanted each box and piece of furniture. And, he told her sternly, when they finished her check marks needed to match those on the sheet provided by the movers. It’d been a long day—too long—and now it had begun to seem endless.
CHAPTER THREE
THE LENGTH OF TIME it took the two burly men to unload the truck clocked in at almost three hours. That was partly due to a restless nine-year-old who kept wanting a snack or a drink or asking a question, which meant Greer had to take frequent breaks. Luckily the men, a father and son driving team, were understanding; they planned to pick up a northbound load in San Antonio, where they’d spend the night. The younger of the two scrawled his name on Shelby’s cast before they closed up the truck and left.
“I wanted Noah to be first to sign it,” Shelby admitted. “But he said the plaster was still soft when he went home. Do you think he’ll come back tonight?” Shelby strained to keep Noah’s house in sight as her mom attempted to help her inside.
“Watch where you’re walking, Shel, or you’ll trip and risk breaking something else.”
“Why are you acting so grouchy?”
Greer sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m tired,” she said, raking a hand through her hair.
“I’m hungry,” Shelby said. “It’s getting dark and we haven’t had dinner.”
“I fixed you fruit and cheese for lunch.” Greer remembered swiping a few orange wedges—all she’d had since breakfast. “Unloading took longer than I expected. Mr. Jarvis and his son were kind enough to set up our beds. We’ll have supper and then I’ll find the sheets. What would you like to eat?”
“Grilled cheese sandwiches?”
“I should’ve known.” Greer laughed. “That’s exactly why I wrote griddle on the box we packed it in.”
“I wonder if there’s anything good on TV? You said programs won’t be the same here as in Denver.”
“They will be different, hon. Right now, though, there’s nothing on at all. I need to call the cable company in the morning and arrange for service.”
“No TV? For how long?”
“I don’t know. This isn’t the city.” Seeing the storm brewing in her daughter’s eyes, Greer tried to deflect it. “Maybe we can pretend we’ve just moved into the Little House on the Prairie, Shelby. You’ve read all of those books a dozen times and watched the series almost that often.”
“That would be cool. Do we have an oil lamp I can put in my room?”
Greer opened the refrigerator and stuck her hand in to make sure it was working. She’d already transferred everything from the cooler. Unwrapping the cheese, she treated Shelby to one of her famous no-because-I-said-so-and-I’m-the-mom looks. “I said pretend. And I’m not building a fire in the fireplace and cooking our cheese sandwiches over coals, either.”
“Bro…ther! If we’d gone to Noah’s house like he offered, I bet I could watch TV.”
Greer paused with the knife poised above the block of cheddar. “Shelby, you used to be shy around Whippoorwill guests, especially those we didn’t know well. I’m surprised you’re so taken with Father Kelley.”
Shelby cast down her eyes and kicked rhythmically at the table leg. “Hey, this is our table.”
“Did you think I’d leave it behind? And quit changing the subject.” She slit open the packing box, removed the griddle and wiped it off with paper towels before plugging it into the wall socket.
“Noah’s nice. He doesn’t treat me like I’m a kid. In Colorado most of the ranch guests talked to Luke Sanderson and me like we were still in kindergarten.”
Picking up two slices of buttered bread, Greer tested the griddle and when it sizzled to her satisfaction, she flipped the bread on the hot metal, quickly layered on cheese slices, then put another piece of bread on top. “I cut up a couple of those apples we bought at Tanner’s. Granted, it’s late, but we need something besides a sandwich.”
Shelby slid off the chair and cradled her injured arm. She figured out how to open the fridge. As she set out the plate of sliced apples, she asked casually, “If this is where you lived before you went to Denver, does my real daddy live here, too?”
Greer’s body stilled except for her heart, which kicked into high gear. So was that what Shelby’s sudden interest in Noah Kelley was about? Did she figure he was the approximate age of her father? That maybe he knew her father? As a matter of fact, Greer thought, swallowing a lump, Noah and Daniel Harper probably were the same age.
Clearing her throat several times, she paused to turn the sandwiches and give her racing mind time to sort out a proper response.
“Did you hear me?” Shelby asked, staring solemnly at Greer.
“I heard. Why all the interest? Did…someone here bring up the subject?” For a second Greer’s heart seemed to stop. Holden Kelley could have told his son all the sordid details.
“No. Luke asked if that’s why we were moving to Texas. To find my dad.”
“The answer is a resounding no.” Greer singed her fingers transferring the hot sandwiches to plates, where she cut them in half. Setting one in front of Shelby, Greer unplugged the griddle, then sat opposite, in her usual spot. She hoped to keep this conversation brief. “I think we’ve done okay. I mean, you and me alone, kiddo.” Seeing how her daughter poked at her sandwich halves with one finger, Greer cut them into more manageable bite-size pieces.
Shelby nibbled on one, set it back, and after she swallowed, muttered, “Noah’s stronger than you. When he carried me from the car I felt…safe.”
Greer started to flex her arm and show her muscle, as they used to do teasingly with Luke. He was two years older than Shelby and loved to lord it over her. There was no laughter in Shelby’s eyes now, so Greer planted an elbow on the table and massaged the tight muscles gripping her neck. “I can’t argue with your logic. Men are physically stronger, so women have to work smarter to make up for that genetic