Courageous. Diana Palmer
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had been doing over at Eb Scott’s place, with state-of-the-art weaponry and some new toys that could be deployed at long range. It was going to be a bloodbath, even at its best, and a lot of his men weren’t going to come home. He was in it for noble reasons: to depose a dictator who was torturing innocent people. But there was a substantial cash reward in the offing as well, and he had plans for his cattle ranch. He wanted a grubstake to get him started, something that he earned and not something that Jason Pendleton out of gratitude had given him. He wanted to build an empire of his own, with his two hands. That would mean a great risk. But without great risks, there were no great rewards. Besides that, Machado had hinted about a cabinet position if and when he regained power. That would be something to consider as well, although Grange hadn’t thought about relocating to another country, in another continent.
“You’re very solemn,” Peg said, jolting him out of his mental exercises.
He glanced at her with something like consternation. Where would Peg fit into his plans? She was very young, at nineteen; perhaps too young. And taking her out of the country she’d lived in her whole life, to a new and very dangerous environment—it didn’t bear thinking about. Besides that, there was the possibility that this might take months or even years to accomplish. He was gathering intel even now on the opposition forces and their capabilities. His men were good, but he would have to ally with groups that had boots on the ground in Barrera and coordinate them for an attack. It meant a lot of work.
“I was just thinking,” he said after a minute.
She smiled. “Don’t,” she advised. “We’re going to the ball and there is no tomorrow. Okay?”
“Okay.”
The Jacobsville Civic Center was decorated for the holidays, with holly and tinsel, golden bells and a huge Christmas tree with ornaments made by the local orphanage and the friends of the nearby animal shelter. The Cattleman’s Ball would benefit both charities.
The town citizens were decked out in their finery as well. Bonnie, who worked as a clerk at the pharmacy, was dressed all in red, one of the couture gowns provided by the local designer, and she was on the arm of a visiting cattleman who had arrived in, of all things, a Rolls-Royce. He was tall and dark and middle-aged, but very appealing.
He paused by Grange and seemed to know him. They shook hands. “Maxwell,” he introduced himself. “I’d like to speak to you before you leave.”
Grange nodded solemnly. “I’ll make a point of it.”
“Where did you meet him?” Peg asked in a hurried whisper.
Bonnie, blond curls very elegantly arranged, and grinning from ear to ear, said, “He came into the pharmacy to get a prescription for a friend, can you believe it? We started talking and he loves sixteenth-century Tudor history! So here I am.”
“Good luck,” Peg whispered.
Bonnie just shook her head. “I think I’m dreaming.”
The visiting cattleman took her hand, smiled at the others and led her onto the dance floor.
Nancy, the pharmacist, dressed all in green, was standing with Holly, her clerk, dressed in gold, and they were shaking their heads at Bonnie and her escort.
“I wonder if he has a couple of nice friends,” Peg whispered wickedly.
They both laughed.
“Well, it’s that sort of night.” Nancy sighed, looking down at her elegant green gown. “Can you imagine, all of us decked out like this?”
“It attracts men, too,” Peg murmured under her breath as one of the local ranch foremen, a real dish, came forward, actually bowed, and led Nancy onto the dance floor.
Nancy just shook her head.
“What were you talking about?” Grange asked Peg as he led her out to dance.
“Loaned dresses and holiday magic,” she whispered, smiling up at him. He was so handsome. She was amazed to find herself at a dance with him, when all her flirting had only seemed to chase him away. Now, here he was, holding her on a dance floor, and looking as if he couldn’t bear to leave her.
In fact, he danced with a couple of the elderly women present, but otherwise, only with Peg.
“People will talk,” he said with a wry smile, noting the interest from the other couples.
She shrugged. “People do. I don’t care. Do you?”
He shook his head. “I don’t care at all. But I’ll be gone.”
Her face fell.
He pulled her close. “Don’t think about it. There’s no tomorrow. We agreed.”
“Yes.” She pressed close and shut her eyes. But already she felt the separation. It was going to be agonizing.
They stayed until the last dance. He left her with Justin and Shelby Ballenger while he went outside with the visiting cattleman in the Rolls-Royce.
“Something big’s going on, huh?” Justin asked Peg.
“Something,” she agreed, with a shy smile. Justin and Shelby were co-owners, with Justin’s brother Calhoun, of the enormous Ballenger Brothers Feedlot. They were millionaires many times over, and Shelby was a direct descendant of Big John Jacobs, the founder of Jacobsville, Texas. It had been an epic courtship, not without its agonies. But the couple was very happy and had grown children.
Grange was back shortly, and he looked pleased. “Time to go. It was a great party. I hope we made lots of money for the orphanage and the shelter.”
“We did,” Justin said with a smile. He put an arm around Shelby and held her close. “Record sums, I hear.”
“Good, good.”
“You be careful where you’re going,” Justin said, extending a hand to shake Grange’s. “Noble causes are noble, but they come at a price.”
“Yes, I do know. Thanks.”
“We’ll keep you in our prayers,” Shelby said gently. “Keep well.”
Grange nodded, smiled and tugged Peg out the door.
They watched Bonnie drive off in the Rolls-Royce.
“Will she have stories to tell!” Peg exclaimed. “I have to get a prescription refilled so I can get all the news!”
Grange laughed. “You women and your gossip.”
“Hey, men gossip, too,” she pointed out.
He made a face.
She had hoped that he might stop along the way, maybe park on some lonely back road. But to her disappointment, he drove right up to the front steps. And her father was inside, with the lights blazing.
He walked her onto the porch. His face was very solemn. “We’ve already jumped the gun, Peg,” he said gently. “No need to make things more complicated. Not right now. I have to have my mind on where I’m going, and what I have to do. Distractions can be fatal.”
The reality of the future caught her by the throat. She’d tried not to think about it, but now she had to face facts. He was going off to war, even if it wasn’t some officially declared one. He might not come back. The panic was in her expression.
“Hey.” He put his forefinger over her lips. “I made major before I mustered out of the military. You don’t get those promotions unless you know what you’re doing. Okay?”
She swallowed, hard. “Okay.”
He smiled gently. “You have a wonderful Christmas.”
“You, too.” She grimaced. “I didn’t get you anything yet. Can I send you something? Warm socks, maybe?” she tried to joke.
“I don’t think warm socks and tropical jungles are a good mix, do you?”