A Texan on Her Doorstep. Stella Bagwell
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doesn’t prove anything. What was this man like? Did he look like he could be related to Frankie?” she asked, then shook her head with disgust. “What the hell am I doing asking that question? There’s just no way. No way at all that Frankie had other children. She would have told me.”
Just conjuring the image of Mac in her brain was enough to leave Ileana’s mouth dry, and she quickly reached for her tea. “He’s a tall, very handsome guy. A cowboy type. A typical Texan,” she added, even though there had been nothing typical at all about the man, she thought.
Ileana took several sips of tea while her mother sat in silence. Chloe was either stunned or scared, and Ileana couldn’t figure which.
“What’s wrong, Mother? You do know something, don’t you?”
“You can’t let this man see Frankie,” she suddenly blurted. “At least, not until we find out more about him.”
“Well, I’d already planned on that. Why?”
With a heavy sigh, Chloe went back to eating but not with the same gusto as when they’d first sat down at the table.
“Look, Ileana, when I first met Frankie, almost thirty years ago, she was just traveling through the area. She’d left Texas and a husband behind. He was making some frightening threats against her, and at that time she was in the process of getting a divorce and was going by the name of Robertson. She said she’d reverted back to her maiden name.”
Ileana’s thoughts were spinning. She’d not even known that Frankie had been married before. Apparently that was a part of her life she didn’t want others knowing about, and if that was true, she probably wanted to keep other things secret. Like two more sons? The whole idea was shocking.
“When you first met her, did she ever mention what her married name was while she’d lived in Texas?” Ileana asked.
Chloe shook her head. “No. She didn’t tell me. And I wasn’t about to ask. I only knew that she needed a friend. I could tell that she was a bit traumatized, but what woman wouldn’t be? The man had threatened to kill her. And he was a farmer, a respected member of the community, or so she’d said. She’d run because she’d figured if she’d tried to get help, no one would have believed her complaints.”
Ileana thoughtfully pushed the goulash around her plate. “Mac didn’t mention anything about farming. He said his father had been a sheriff. Maybe Frankie isn’t the woman he’s looking for. But most of the things he said adds up, Mother.”
“How old was this—Mac—as you call him?”
Color instantly bloomed on Ileana’s face. Now why had she come out with his first name, as though she knew the man on a personal basis? “My age, I think. He told me his mother left the family when he was ten and his brother eight. And that she’s been gone twenty-nine years.”
“Oh, dear.”
Looking across the table, Ileana spotted tears in her mother’s eyes.
“No matter how hard I try, Ileana, I can’t imagine Frankie doing such a thing. She loves her children more than her own life. In fact, I’ve always told her that she smothered them too much. While they were growing up, she was frightened to turn her back for one instant in fear that something would happen to them.”
“Well, it’s hard to speculate what might have taken place in Texas. Could be that Frankie didn’t have much choice,” Ileana said thoughtfully. “If the man was threatening her, she might have been forced to leave her boys.”
Chloe shook her head emphatically. “But she would have gone back for them. Somehow, someway, she would have gone back.”
“Obviously she didn’t,” Ileana countered. “In fact, she’s never mentioned them to you. Doesn’t that seem odd?”
“Odd? Hell, no. It seems downright mean,” Chloe shot back, then with a weary sigh, she reached across the table and covered Ileana’s hand with hers. “Honey, when will you be seeing this man again?”
Ever since he’d disappeared through the hospital door, Ileana had been asking herself that same question. A huge part of her was thrilled at the idea of seeing him again, but the practical side cowered at the very thought. Mac McCleod was hardly the sort of man she would ever dream of consorting with. As if a man with his striking looks would ever think of giving her the time of day, she thought wryly. Everything about the man said he liked fast, showy horses and his women just the same. And Ileana was as far from that category as one could get.
“Tomorrow. Or so he said. I do have his telephone number.”
Chloe heaved out a breath of relief. “Good. I want you to give him a call and invite him to the ranch tomorrow night. For dinner.”
“Mom! Have you gone daft? I’m not going to do such a thing! I’ve just now met the man!”
“Look, Ivy, this is crucial!” Chloe pleaded. “You don’t want anything happening to Frankie, do you?”
What about your daughter? Ileana wanted to ask. Being around Mac McCleod was difficult on her heart. She wasn’t sure it could withstand the strain of being in his company for a whole evening.
“Of course I don’t want anything happening to Frankie. She’s my patient and a friend.”
“All right then.” Chloe gave Ileana’s hand one last pat and then leaned back in her chair. “I need to talk to this man and find out what’s really going on.”
“If you have a notion that you can change his mind about seeing Frankie, forget it. I doubt the man has ever uttered the word surrender. Unless he was yelling it at a fleeing criminal.”
Seeming not to hear Ileana’s warning, Chloe continued. “Quint and Alexa don’t know anything about this yet, do they?”
“No. But I suggested that he talk to them.”
“Oh, God, what is this going to do them?” Chloe mumbled worriedly. “They believe their mother is a saint.”
Across from her Ileana picked up her fork and tried to muster up the hunger she’d felt earlier this afternoon. The day had been long and exhausting, and she’d hardly had time to eat three bites of a dry turkey sandwich. But now all she wanted to do was go home and get this telephone call to Mac over with.
Back in Ruidoso, Mac had just returned to his motel room after a meal in a nearby restaurant. As he stretched out on the bed and reached for the remote control, the ring of his cell phone caught him by surprise. He’d not expected Ripp to call again tonight.
Pulling the phone from his jeans pocket, he was surprised to spot a local number illuminated. No one here had this number, except Dr. Sanders!
“Hello. Mac McCleod here.”
“Uh…Mac—this is…Dr. Sanders calling.”
His heart began to hammer with anticipation, or did a part of the adrenaline spurting through his veins have something to do with hearing her voice? After all, it was a sweet, husky sound. The kind that would sound perfect whispering in his ear.
Damn, Mac, leaving Texas soil has done something to your brain.
Snapping himself to sudden attention, he said, “Yes, Dr. Sanders. Has something happened?”
“If you mean Ms. Cantrell’s condition, no. I just spoke with her nurse. She’s resting comfortably. I’m calling for an entirely different reason.”
There was hesitancy about her words that put Mac on guard. Without thinking, he sat up on the side of the bed and stared expectantly at the floor. “You’ve changed your mind about allowing me to see her?”
“Uh—no. I’m…well, I’m calling to ask you to dinner tomorrow night,” she said, then rushed on before he could make any sort of response. “I live on a ranch in the Hondo Valley—my parents’ ranch—the Bar M. My mother thought