Texas Bluff. Linda Warren
the buttons on the radio and twisting in his seat to the beat of Rascal Flatts.
She took a deep breath. “Do not, and I repeat, do not ask the Chisums for a job again. Your grandpa has plenty of work for you to do.”
“Mo-o-om,” he dragged out her name in a pained tone. “Grandpa pays pennies. The Chisums pay top dollar. If I work all summer, I could buy the coolest truck.”
“Shane, did you hear what I just said?” She used her strongest voice, the one Shane knew well.
“Yes, ma’am.” He slumped in his seat. Silence filled the cab.
“Your father called and wants to know if you’d like to come for the weekend.”
She heard a muttered, “No.”
“You haven’t seen your father and his family for two months.” Danny had remarried and had two more children. Shane felt left out.
“They live in the city and there’s nothing to do there. I always have to babysit. Besides, Grandpa and I are working on the four wheeler. We almost have it running again. Call Dad and tell him I’ll come another time.”
“You call him tonight and tell him that.”
“Mo-o-om.” He dragged out her name again in protest.
“You’ll call him.”
Divorce was hell on kids. Danny understood Shane had a life in River Bluff and didn’t pressure him too much to come and visit. Noreen, his wife, had a lot to do with that.
Becky pulled into the parking lot.
“Just think, Mom.” Shane unbuckled his seat belt, back to his happy self. He never stayed upset for long. “When I get my truck, you won’t have to drive me to school anymore.”
Turning off the ignition, she glanced at him. “But remember I’ll still be here.”
“You know, Mom, those elementary kids need a nurse a lot more than us grown-ups. You might want to think about transferring.”
She pinched his cheek. “In your dreams, hotshot.”
“Mo-o-om… Oh, there’s Abby. Gotta go. See you after school. Remember I have basketball practice.” He grabbed his backpack and in a burst of energy was gone.
Becky watched as he joined Abby and more of their friends, flashing his registered-on-the-Richter-scale smile. Her son was handsome, charming and a handful. That caused her many sleepless nights. Shane was like his father in so many ways.
And she was grateful no one saw that but her.
CHAPTER TWO
LUKE SPED DOWN THE ROAD to Great Oaks, the Chisum home. Huge live oaks lined the lane on both sides, their large branches intertwining and creating a canopy effect. The trees had grown on the property long before Luke was born. His great-grandmother had planted them and had named the two-story Victorian house, built by her husband.
Every time he drove beneath the trees, he felt that sense of vulnerability, just as he had in town. He’d been adopted as a newborn by the Chisums and he was always acutely aware he wasn’t a blood Chisum. His brother, Hank, made sure he never forgot that little fact.
Hank had been sixteen when Henry and Lucy had decided to adopt. Hank had resented his new brother from day one. Luke was now thirty-four and only tolerated by him, at best. The tension at home had been another reason he’d bolted for freedom, but Hank hadn’t been the catalyst that had sent Luke out into the world. Becky had. If Luke hadn’t been so eaten up with jealousy over Becky and Danny, he would never have left the Circle C or his parents.
Luke may not have been blood but his roots ran deep with the Chisums. He loved them, even Hank, though it would probably take a bottle of Jack Daniel’s to get him to admit that out loud.
Parking at the garages, Luke noticed Hank’s Ford King Ranch pickup. He’d been visiting his daughter, Chelsea, in San Antonio. Hank and his wife, Marla, were separated and Chelsea lived with her mother. He hadn’t come home the night before so maybe he and Marla were trying to work things out.
Marla was a city girl and hadn’t taken to living on a ranch. Luke had been in the military for a year when his mom had written that Marla and Chelsea had moved out for good. Hank had bought them a house and nothing had changed in that situation for fifteen years. Chelsea was now twenty-two, finishing her last year of college. Luke barely knew his niece.
Luke had to give Marla credit. She really tried, but not many people could put up with Hank’s moodiness.
Luke slipped out of his truck and took a moment to breathe in the fresh country air. He caught the scent of cypress wafting from the Medina River. Oh, yeah, he was home. Just being here gave him a sense of peace. He’d left here a boy feeling ten feet tall and bulletproof. That was a trick of his young, arrogant mind. He’d seen the world as no eighteen-year-old should—through blood and tears. He’d come back a man with his head squarely on his shoulders, knowing no one was invincible and a bullet showed no discretion.
He glanced in the direction of the barns, corrals, bunkhouse and the rolling hills beyond. Everything lay in the dormant stages of winter. Cedars, spruces and craggy ledges stood out among the bare, weblike branches of the trees. Leaves in different shades of brown blanketed the ground.
Soon spring would turn the landscape into lush hills, green valleys and sunny vistas that were stunning in their simplicity and beauty. To Luke, no place on earth could compete with the scenery in River Bluff. No place.
Cowboys were saddling up for a day on the range. Luke waved to Pee Wee, Newt, Ramrod, Hardy and Paco as they loaded hay onto a flatbed trailer. This was cowboy country. An old-fashioned way of doing things was still alive in the county, even though dude ranches were a common sight around River Bluff. But not at the Circle C. Real tobacco-chewing, bowlegged cowboys worked here.
“Hey, boy, when’s the next poker game?” Happenstance Jones, cowboy extraordinaire and ranch foreman, walked from the house, his worn boots making a shuffling noise on the pavement. At seventy-two, Hap wasn’t known for picking up his feet.
“Wednesday night.”
“Where?”
“Jake’s place.”
“Might join ya.” Hap bobbed his head up and down.
“Be happy to take your money.”
Hap snorted, laying a hand on the hood of Luke’s truck. “You just gettin’ home?”
Luke pushed back his hat. “Hap, those days of staying out all night are gone.”
“What are you talkin’ about?” Hap spit chewing tobacco on the ground. “You’re in your prime. You’d better ride that bull while you can, boy, because before you know it, you’ll be ridin’ toward eighty like me.”
Hap looked every year of his age. He had brown leathery skin from too many hours in the sun. A bony body and bowed legs added to the effect. But Luke knew his mind was still as sharp as the razor the housekeeper, Clover, made him use on the odd occasion. Most of the time he had a gray stubble and a look that was known to frighten small children.
Luke folded his arms across his chest. “Hap, I never thought you worried about age.”
“I don’t. That’s up to the good Lord. I’ll die with my boots on and a smile on my face.”
“Since I’ve never seen you smile that might be totally impossible.”
“Really?” Hap rubbed his stubble. “I’m smiling now. Can’t ya tell?”
Luke studied the strained, wrinkly face. “Nope. Looks more like you have gas.”
Hap walked off, shaking his head. “Boy don’t know nuthin’.”
Luke strolled into the house with a grin on his face. “Hey, Clover.”
Clover