Hitched!. Ruth Dale Jean
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luck for us, even when we’re being hijacked.”
“Oh, don’t joke about it! It could have been a tragedy.”
“But it wasn’t. In fact, it gave Rand and me a chance to…really get to know each other so much better than we did when it all started. I guess you could say we truly…bonded.”
Jesse barged through the back door, took one look at his wife and stopped short, his gray eyes narrowing. “What the hell?” he demanded. “Bad news?”
Meg covered the mouthpiece with one hand and shook her head furiously. Licking her lips, she spoke into the phone again. “Well…that’s really…uh, it’s been nice chatting with you, Maxine. Will you put Randy on again?”
Randy said, “Isn’t she great? I told you you’d like her. Uh, Mom, can you start the ball rolling with the lawyers on that inheritance? I’d like to get that taken care of as quick as possible.”
“It may not be that easy, dear.”
“Why not?”
“They’ll want to see your marriage license and then we’ll all have to meet her—your father and me, Trey and Rachel and Boone and Kit.”
A long silence greeted this explanation. Then her only son said, “You don’t believe me.”
“That’s not it,” she protested. “Exactly. I mean, this is awfully sudden. I’m sure when we get to meet her…When will we, dear?”
“Soon. Uh, Maxine’s schedule is tough, actually. She has obligations in Chicago.”
“But—”
“You’ll meet her in good time,” he cut in defensively.
“That time had better be before September 30,” Meg retorted, “because that’s the deadline if you really truly want that ranch. And I have my doubts about that.”
“Thanks for your support, Mom. I thought of all people you were the one I could count on.”
“No, darling. You thought of all people I was the one most easily snowed—and you’re right. I hope everything is exactly as you say, that you and this girl are madly in love and will live happily ever after. But forgive me if I need more proof than a quickie telephone call from Mexico.”
She hung up with a hand that trembled. Automatically she turned to her handsome husband for the support he never failed to offer. “Oh, Jesse! What have I done?”
He threw back his head and laughed. When he straightened, dark hair with only a few strands of gray fell over his forehead. Dressed in the clothing of a working cowboy, he carried a coiled lariat in one hand and a halter in the other. Fearless and frank, Jesse was also solid and unyielding and stubborn as the day was long.
And he loved her. He dropped the halter and the lariat on the floor and took his trembling wife in his arms. “What the hell’s that boy done now—gone and got himself married?”
“He says so, but there’s something fishy about his story.”
He surprised her by saying, “I hope to hell it’s true.” At her astonished glance, he grinned and added, “Nothing like a little responsibility to make a man grow up fast. Ask me how I know?”
And he kissed her, just as he’d kissed her the first time.
MAXINE SAID, “She didn’t believe us.”
“Didn’t seem to.”
“Well, I tried.” She walked across the hotel room to look down on the bustling streets of Tijuana.
Rand had gotten the room so they’d have a place to make their calls in peace and quiet—not that it’d done much good. “It wasn’t you,” he said honestly. “You were great. In fact, you were so great that I’ve just realized I’m gonna have to watch you in the future. You managed to imply all kinds of stuff without telling a single lie.”
“Lying comes easier to some people than to others.” She kept her face turned toward the window. “Okay, we tried and it didn’t work. We may as well go to the airport and get out of here.”
“Uh-uh. Not yet.” He picked up the telephone handset. “We’ve got two more shots. Just stand by….”
“YOUR NEPHEW’S on the phone, Mr. Mayor.”
In the mayor’s office in Showdown, Texas, attorney Boone Taggart put down the stack of city ordinances he’d been studying and picked up the handset. “Randy, is that you?”
“Sure is, Uncle Boone.”
“Bad connection.” Boone switched the receiver to the other ear. “What’s up, lad?”
“What makes you think something’s up?”
“Experience. The last time I heard from you was about 1995 and you wanted me to smooth over one thing or another with your parents.”
“Okay, I stand corrected. I’ll level with you. I just got off the phone with Mom and I need help with her.”
“Meg’s okay, isn’t she?”
“She’s fine. Here’s the deal. I want to claim my inheritance from Great-grandpa.”
“You’ll never break that will,” Boone said. “Guaranteed.”
“I don’t want to break it—I want to comply with it.”
Boone, an expert at reading between the lines, put two and two together in a flash. “You called Meg to tell her you’re married. I’d have expected her to be pleased.”
“If she believed me, which I don’t think she did. Do me a favor and convince her, okay? I got married this morning in Mexico and…”
As the boy explained, Boone could hardly keep from chuckling. He didn’t blame Meg for being dubious and said so first chance he got, ending with, “If you want my help, bring your wife here and give us all a chance to meet her and decide for ourselves if you’ve fulfilled the conditions of that will. It’s the only way.”
A sigh. Then Rand said, “Yeah, I guess I’ll have to do that. You can’t blame me for hoping, though. Give my love to Aunt Kit, okay?”
“Will do.”
“I was sorry to hear about her cancer surgery.”
“That was three years ago.” Boone hated to be reminded of the toughest ordeal his wife—or he—had ever faced. “We had a happy ending, anyway.”
“That’s what Mom said. The kids okay?”
“Yeah, they are.” Travis was eighteen and had just entered his senior year at Showdown High School; Cherish was an adorable eleven-year-old and still Daddy’s girl.
“That’s good. Okay, Uncle Boone, I’ll be in touch soon.”
Boone doubted it. He really did. For some reason, Randy wanted the ranch he’d ignored for nearly ten years and was willing to hustle his own family to get it.
What the hell. Taggart family life had been way too tame since Thom T. had died.
THE TELEPHONE was ringing when Trey Smith finally got the door open to his ranch house in the San Fernando Valley. This was Rachel’s day to work at the free clinic and the kids were in school, so his footsteps made lonely echoes across the hardwood floors.
“Yeah,” he said into the phone, “I’m here.”
“Uncle Trey, it’s Rand.”
“Rand who?” Trey looked down at the mail on a small silver plate next to the phone, then began sifting idly through it.
“Ha, ha, very funny. Randy, your favorite nephew, who else?”
“Oh, that Rand. What’s up, kid?”
“Nothing