Texas Rebels: Paxton. Linda Warren
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Road 461 and drove across the cattle guard, the trailer clanging. The dog raced along the chain-link fence, barking his head off. Paxton stopped the truck at the back of the house and slammed the gearshift into Park. He picked up Miss Bertie’s sales receipt, which had a tag number and a description of each calf, from the console and headed for the back door.
Memphis jumped up and down, barking and wagging his tail, eager to see a person. He had a heck of a time keeping the dog from darting out the gate. A long porch adorned the back of the house with a couple of old rocking chairs. He went up the steps and knocked on the built-in-screen glass door.
“Come on in!” Miss Bertie shouted.
He opened the door and stepped into 1960, or the late 1950s. The floor was yellow-and-white linoleum and the chairs and table were an old Formica set. It reminded him of his grandmother’s old house. Miss Bertie came into the kitchen and this time she wasn’t wearing a hat. Her short gray hair stuck out in all directions. He wondered if she had a brush or a comb.
She winked at him. “Sweetie, come here. We have company.”
“Gran, I’m riding my bike.”
“We still greet company in my house. Get your butt in here.”
Paxton removed his hat, ready to get this over with as fast as he could.
A girl appeared in the doorway in jogging pants and a sweatshirt with the University of Houston on it. She was thin and frail, and her clothes hung on her. Her short light brown hair framed a pretty face. Familiar sea-green eyes stared at him.
The girl from Port Aransas.
She was as stunned as he was, grabbing the door frame for support.
“Remi, sweetie, this is Paxton Rebel. And this is my granddaughter—”
“What are you doing letting a Rebel into your house?” The girl turned on her grandmother.
Miss Bertie shrugged. “I have nothing against the Rebels.”
“John Rebel killed my father. Have you forgotten that?”
Oh, crap. It dawned on Paxton for the first time. This had to be Ezra McCray’s daughter. He’d been younger then and had forgotten a lot of the details. But Miss Bertie’s daughter, Ava, had married Ezra McCray. Paxton knew they had a son, Ruger, but he had no idea they had a daughter.
“Okay, missy, I’m not standing here and letting you paint your father as a saint. He was an evil man and I would have killed him myself, but your grandfather always stopped me. He beat your mother so many times and I begged her to leave, but she was scared to death of him. Everyone in this town was scared of him. And in case you’ve forgotten he tried to kill two of the Rebel boys.”
“I’d rather not talk about this and I’d rather not talk to him.” She nodded toward Paxton.
“Do you know what he’s doing here?” Miss Bertie asked.
“No.”
“He hauled my calves to the auction barn because Ruger wouldn’t. Your brother is under Ira McCray’s thumb and he won’t let him do anything for me. These are the people you’re protecting. People you don’t even know. You were less than two years old when your mother took you to Houston. Later, your mother remarried and Nathan adopted you. Nathan is your father and Ezra is nothing to you.”
“Gran—”
Paxton had had enough. He wasn’t stepping into this land mine. He handed Miss Bertie the papers. “You can pick up your check tomorrow afternoon.” He tipped his hat. “It’s been a pleasure.”
“Wait a minute. I want to look at this,” Miss Bertie called, and he forced himself to stop and turn around. “I have to find my glasses.” She disappeared down a hallway.
Remi stepped farther into the room. “What are you doing here?”
“Your grandmother just told you. I hauled her calves to the auction.”
“There was no need.”
“Oh, and who was going to do it? You?”
“I could have.”
“I don’t think so. You have a hard time standing and you’re pale and thin.” The moment the words left his mouth he knew they were not something you’d say to a woman. And he was right. Her sea-green eyes simmered with anger.
She moved closer to him. “I’m fine. Do you hear me? I’m fine.” She wagged one long finger in his face. “I’m fine.”
He did the only thing a red-blooded cowboy could do. He bit her finger.
She jumped back, holding her finger. “You bit me!”
“I’m going to keep biting you until you admit the truth.”
“You...you...stay away from my grandmother.” She turned and hurried into the living room.
“A thank-you would have been nice!” he shouted to her back.
Miss Bertie walked in and glanced at him, then to the empty doorway. “Is that part of the look?”
Paxton swung toward the door. “No. It’s goodbye.”
He shoved the shift into gear, backed up and left the crazy ladies behind. He was sticking his nose into something that didn’t concern him and he had no desire to get to know Ezra McCray’s daughter.
* * *
REMI SANK ONTO the sofa, fuming. How dare he stick his nose into her business? She curled her hand into a fist, still feeling the warmth of his lips and his teeth against her skin. That strange gesture had awakened something in her that had been dormant for a long time—the need for male companionship. But not him. He was arrogant and rude and...
Gran sat beside her. “What’s the matter, sweetie?”
“Nothing.” She tried to hide what she was feeling, but feared she failed.
“What did he mean about a thank-you?”
“Nothing, Gran. He’s just an arrogant jerk.”
“Oh, I thought he was a very handsome young man. If I were your age, I’d be batting my eyes at him and smiling as sweetly as I could.”
“You would not. Things were very proper back then.”
Gran let out a big laugh and slapped her leg with her hand. “Oh, sweetie, men and women are men and women at any age. Now your grandpa, he was quiet and shy. I had my work cut out for me because I had him picked out for a long time. We were at a school dance, and when it was time for the girls to choose their partners, I chose him. When they shouted to change partners, I didn’t let go and said, ‘I’d rather dance with you.’ He said, ‘I would, too.’ And from that day on we were a couple.”
“That’s so sweet, Gran.” How she wished it could be that simple today. But she had too much on her mind to even think about getting involved with someone. Not that he was interested in her. He’d said she was pale and thin. Pale and thin? As much as the words made her angry, she knew they were true. Would she ever be strong enough to be able to adopt Annie?
She rested her head on her grandmother’s shoulder. “I wish I had lived in your time.”
“No, you don’t. You’re struggling right now, but life will turn around for you. Have you called your parents?”
“Yes. I think they were camped out in my apartment waiting for me to come home.”
Gran stroked Remi’s hair. “They just worry about you.”
“I know, but the accident happened in October and I’m strong enough to live in my apartment again. I wish they would understand that.”
“When you’re a mother, you’ll understand those feelings.”
Remi sat up. “I