All Roads Lead to Texas. Linda Warren
wasn’t, was it?”
Unable to sit any longer, he stood and jammed both hands through his hair, losing control. “No. I killed him because I didn’t check out the situation. Does that make you feel better?”
Jock hung his head.
“I will feel the guilt of his death every day of my life, but I’m not going to sit by and watch you drink yourself to death. You and I are left to face this world so let’s do it the best way we can. Without arguing—like Zach would want.”
“Zach never liked it when you and I argued.” Jock brushed hair out of his eyes.
“No,” Wade agreed. “He loved us both.”
“Yeah. He was a good kid. I just don’t see why those boys didn’t get jail time.”
Wade took his seat again, suddenly feeling a relief to be able to talk about his son. “I tried everything I could, but they were twelve years old. They’re on probation until they’re twenty-one and their activities are monitored. That’s all the court would do.”
That still rankled Wade, but he’d learned to live with it the best way he could.
An awkward silence followed.
“Pop, there’s a kid in town who wants to ride a horse. Lucky needs to be ridden and—”
Jock stumbled to his feet. “Nobody rides that horse. Nobody.”
Jock hobbled away and Wade buried his face in his hands. Was life always going to be like this? He’d had just about his limit. From out of nowhere, Callie Austin’s face appeared in his mind and he wondered why he could see it so clearly.
THE NEXT MORNING, Callie woke up to noise and she scrambled from her bag into her clothes. She heard the pounding of a hammer, the whiz of a saw, the buzz of a mower and voices—several voices.
“What’s that?” Adam asked, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.
“I’ll check. Stay with your sisters.”
Callie opened her front door and stopped short. People were everywhere and she didn’t know any of them. Two men were working on the picket fence, another was mowing the grass. Several men were working on the roof and the column. Odell stepped up on the porch with a tool belt that looked bigger than him around his waist.
“Odell, what’s going on?”
“You told me to fix up the place and that’s what I’m doing.”
“I’m paying for all these people?”
“No, ma’am. The guy mowing is Walter and he’s retired and just likes to mow. He helps out the new residents—sort of makes them feel welcome. That’s Delbert and his son, Little Del, working on the fence. They help out when they can and they owe me a favor. And the men working on the house I hired so I can do the job as quickly as possible. That’s what you wanted, right?”
“Yes,” she answered absently, realizing for the first time that no one ever said their last name. Everybody knew everybody, Wade had said, so she supposed there was no need, except she didn’t know anyone. It would help to know a last name, especially if it was Collins.
“We’ll have the column and porches secured by the end of the day then I can start on the inside.”
“Thank you, Odell,” she said, feeling as if she were in a trance as she went back into the house. Wade had said the people were friendly and he was right. Maybe a little too friendly. No one did anything for free, did they? She was budgeting her money and she had to be careful so that it lasted a year.
THE DAYS THAT FOLLOWED were busy and hectic and she became more familiar with the town and its people. The kids absolutely loved Tanner’s General Store, where anything from beef jerky to toys to large jars of assorted hard candies could be found. Then there were barrels stuffed with gourmet treats. Adam went for the pickle jar while the girls debated over the candy. Callie favored the food area where the meat and produce were fresh and the best she’d ever seen. She missed cooking, but knew it would be awhile before her kitchen was ready. They were making do with a hot plate and that limited what they could eat.
She found there were very few good places to eat in Homestead. There was a kolache shop, a Dairy Queen and the Lone Wolf Bar. She was told that no self-respecting woman would be caught dead in there. Then there was a barbecue place and small diner that looked as bad as the Lone Wolf. That’s when the idea had come to Callie. She couldn’t take a whole year without cooking, so she decided to open a café.
At first the idea seemed crazy since she wasn’t planning on staying in Homestead. But repairing the house was going to take a lot of money and she needed a way to earn an income. She didn’t want her savings to dwindle down to nothing. And cooking was what she did.
A decent place to eat would be good for the town and it would keep her busy, keep her from constantly worrying. The right side of the house would work for the café. Frances Haase had explained that in the old days, the Victorian house had been built to accommodate the entertainment of men and women. There hadn’t been much to do besides go to a local bar and the upstanding citizens hadn’t done that—or if they had, no one had ever spoken of it. Instead, they’d entertained in their homes.
The right parlor was where the men had gathered with their cronies to play poker or cards and to smoke cigars and indulge in their drink of choice. In the left parlor, the women had had their side to gather with friends to knit, crochet or quilt and to imbibe a drink if they so chose without their husband’s permission. Large sliding doors were in a pocket of the wall on each side of the entry and could easily be pulled for privacy.
Each area had access to the kitchen, which made Callie’s idea perfect. With the bedrooms upstairs and the parlors and dining room downstairs, the left side would be their home. Callie became excited with her plans for the kitchen and the café. She talked with Odell and he seemed to be able to do everything she wanted. For once, something else occupied her mind besides fear.
The kids were helping with the cleanup and they were more energetic. Odell had redone the staircase to make sure it was safe and the kids had chosen their rooms upstairs. Although, Callie suspected Mary Beth and Brit wouldn’t sleep in their own room for a while—even Adam, for that fact. But it was okay. They were safe for now.
Buddy and Rascal were regular visitors and while Mary Beth played with Rascal, Buddy helped on the house. One day she made fresh lemonade for all the workers. Del sat in one of the rockers taking a break.
“Mighty good lemonade,” he said.
“Thank you.” Callie thought for a minute then asked, “I don’t believe I caught your last name?”
“My last name?” Del sat rigidly straight and Callie knew she’d made a big mistake. Del was offended.
“I’m sorry, but I’m new in town and I don’t know anyone and no one says their last name.”
He carefully placed his glass on a small table. “There’s a reason for that. Around here we all know and trust each other.” He rose to his full height, his chest puffed out. “But if it’ll ease your mind, my name is Delbert Brockmoor.”
“Thank you, Del.”
Del went back to work and Callie felt as if she’d committed a faux pas. Buddy walked onto the porch for a glass of lemonade. “Somethin’ wrong?”
“I think I hurt Del’s feelings.”
“How’d you do that?”
“By asking his last name.”
“Oh.”
She turned to Buddy, needing an answer once and for all. “Do you know any Collinses that live here?”
Buddy took a long drink of the lemonade. “Nope, can’t say that I do.”
Callie’s heart sank. But she’d keep asking until she found