All Roads Lead to Texas. Linda Warren
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“Mrs. Austin.” Wade tipped his hat in welcome.
“Sheriff,” she acknowledged in a hesitant voice, her heart ticking like a time bomb about to explode.
“I was making my last drive through town before heading home and I saw you sitting out here.” He leaned a shoulder against a pillar.
Her lungs expanded with relief. He didn’t know who she was—yet. She had more time. Tightening her arms around her legs, she said, “It’s so relaxing and quiet. I can barely hear the traffic on the highway.”
“Yep. Homestead’s a peaceful place. Not much happens.”
“I like that.”
“That’s why you came to Homestead, isn’t it?”
Her eyes shot to his, trying to make out his expression in the moonlight. Was there something hidden in that remark? There seemed to be, but she really couldn’t tell. Her perception wasn’t all that good lately, and her nerves were a mangled mass of spaghetti.
“What do you mean?” she asked for good measure.
Wade walked over and sat in the other rocker. It squeaked against the floorboards from his weight. “A small quiet town to raise your children.”
“Yes.”
Away from Nigel Tremont and his sadistic behavior.
Wade clasped his hands between his knees. “I really came by to apologize.”
“Oh?”
“I should have spoken to you first before offering Brit a chance to ride a horse. That put you in an awkward position.”
Callie tucked her hair behind her ear, amazed at his sensitivity. “Since we started making plans to come to Texas, Brit has talked about being a cowgirl. She’s never been near a horse so I’m not sure where the idea comes from. I feel once she gets near the big animal all that will change. Brit’s very impulsive.”
“And very charming. Like her mother.”
His voice felt like a caress in the night, warming her skin and… Oh, this was getting too intimate—with the wrong man.
A tense pause followed, then he said, “I’m afraid I had personal reasons for making the offer.”
“Personal reasons?”
“Yeah.” He rubbed his hands together. “My son died four years ago and his horse hasn’t been ridden since. I was hoping another child would…” He stopped for a moment. “My father is very protective of that horse and it probably wouldn’t have worked anyway.”
Callie’s heart filled with compassion. “I’m so sorry about your son.” She could only imagine the grief and the heartache of losing a child and she could hear it in every word he spoke.
“Thank you,” he said and got to his feet with restless energy. It was clear that talking about his son wasn’t easy and he quickly changed the subject. “I thought I better warn you, too, about the townsfolk. They’ll be eager to help and I hope it’s not going to offend you. People around here are just friendly.”
She stood on her bare feet facing him. “I’ll remember that and I’m probably going to need a lot of help. The house—” she waved a hand toward the front door “—needs lots of work.”
“June Bug is a good carpenter and he can fix just about anything.”
“Odell’s a very interesting person.”
A dark eyebrow arched in amusement. “Yeah. I think he’s been called that a time or two.”
“I’m not calling him June Bug. I consider it an insult.”
Wade studied her in the moonlight, which seemed to form a halo around the blond hair that hung loosely to her shoulders. Without her shoes, she barely came up to his shoulder, but despite her petite size he had a feeling Callie Austin was a very strong woman. She would be a pleasant surprise for the town of Homestead. That was his personal opinion. His train of thought seemed to be completely sidetracked since her arrival in town.
“I really hate to disappoint Brit.”
“Don’t worry about it. Brit forgets things easily, and frankly I need to spend all my time on the house.”
And not getting involved with me. Where did that thought come from? He didn’t even know the woman, but he liked her and…
He cleared his throat. “Are the kids comfortable for the night?”
“Yes. They’re completely exhausted.”
He nodded. “I’m sure you are, too, so I’ll let you get to bed.” He tipped his hat again. “Have a good night.”
With that, Wade strolled down the step to his squad car. He’d vowed to stay away from Callie and give her some space, but when he’d glimpsed her sitting in the rocker he’d stopped without even thinking. The offer of Brit riding a horse bothered him. After he’d done it, he realized he shouldn’t have, especially after Callie’s reaction. And of course Jock would be against anyone riding Lucky. It was best to rectify things now, but he didn’t feel good about hurting Brit. He wondered how Callie would explain it.
Before getting into his car, he glanced at the front porch. Callie had gone inside. He felt a moment of loneliness and he had no idea what that meant. He felt lonely all the time—nothing and no one could make that go away. Talking to her was almost surreal, like this was something he needed. And he’d told her about Zach. He never spoke to anyone about his son, except his friend Ethan Ritter. Ethan had lost a sister, so he knew about that kind of pain.
He got in his car and headed toward Spring Creek Ranch.
And a confrontation with his father.
WHEN WADE WALKED into the kitchen, Jock was sitting at the table nursing a cup of coffee. The mug trembled in his hands.
“How you feeling, Pop?”
“Hummph.”
Wade poured a cup and straddled a chair across from his father. He and Jock used to be the same height, but at sixty-nine Jock’s height had diminished. His hair was silver-gray and his face leathery and wrinkled from years in the sun. A man who once walked with pride now found it a struggle to get through each day, and on days when he needed help, he depended on the bottle. There were too many of those days to Wade’s way of thinking. They had to talk.
Where to start? Talking to his father had always been a hard thing to do. Wade had idolized Jock and wanted to be just like him. He’d been Wyatt Earp and John Wayne combined to a young Wade. Seeing him in this state of depression was even harder. Now Wade would have to be the strong one.
He gripped his cup. “Pop, this drinking has to stop.”
Jock held his head with both hands. “My head’s pounding, son, and if I get angry it might explode.”
“Then stop drinking.”
“What else have I got to do?”
“Work this ranch like you always have.” He paused, using all the ammunition he had. “That’s what Zach would want.”
Jock gulped down a swallow of coffee. “I don’t want to talk about Zach.”
“We have to,” Wade insisted, knowing they had to get to the root of Jock’s problem. “You blame me. You haven’t come out and said it, but I know you do.”
Jock glared at him through bloodshot eyes. “Why did you let him go to that party? Why?”
It was the first time Jock had asked that question and it was long overdue. Wade removed his hat and slowly placed it on the table, that permanent knot in his stomach felt like a rope pulled taut. To avoid the pain, he could get up and walk away like he always did. But he couldn’t do that anymore or soon that rope