Texas Born. Diana Palmer
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just moved down the road from them.
He was very tall, muscular, without it being obvious, and he had the most beautiful liquid black eyes she’d ever seen. He was built like a rodeo cowboy. He had thick, jet-black hair and a face off of a movie poster. He was the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen in her life.
He’d caught her staring at him and he’d laughed. She’d never forgotten how that transformed his hard face. It had melted her. She’d flushed and averted her eyes and almost run out of the store afterward. She’d embarrassed herself by staring. But he was very good-looking, after all—he must be used to women staring at him.
She’d asked her grandfather about him. He hadn’t said much, only that the man was working for Eb Scott, who owned a ranch near Jacobsville. Brandon was rather mysterious, too, her grandfather had mused, and people were curious about him. He wasn’t married. He had a sister who visited him from time to time.
Michelle’s grandfather had chided her for her interest. At fifteen, he’d reminded her, she was much too young to be interested in men. She’d agreed out loud. But privately she thought that that Mr. Brandon was absolutely gorgeous, and most girls would have stared at him.
By comparison, Roberta’s friend, Bert, always looked greasy, as if he never washed his hair. Michelle couldn’t stand him. He looked at her in a way that made her skin crawl and he was always trying to touch her. She’d jerked away from him once, when he’d tried to ruffle her hair, and he made a big joke of it. But his eyes weren’t laughing.
He made her uncomfortable, and she tried to stay out of his way. It would have been all right if he and Roberta didn’t flaunt their affair. Michelle came home from school one Monday to find them on the sofa together, half-dressed and sweaty. Roberta had almost doubled up with laughter at the look she got from her stepdaughter as she lay half across Bert, wearing nothing but a lacy black slip.
“And what are you staring at, you little prude?” Roberta had demanded. “Did you think I’d put on black clothes and abandon men for life because your father died?”
“He’s only been dead two weeks,” Michelle had pointed out with choking pride.
“So what? He wasn’t even that good in bed before he got sick,” she scoffed. “We lived in San Antonio and he had a wonderful practice, he was making loads of money as a cardiologist. Then he gets diagnosed with terminal cancer and decides overnight to pull up stakes and move to this flea-bitten wreck of a town where he sets up a free clinic on weekends and lives on his pension and his investments! Which evaporated in less than a year, thanks to his medical bills,” she added haughtily. “I thought he was rich...!”
“Yes, that’s why you married him,” Michelle said under her breath.
“That’s the only reason I did marry him,” she muttered, sitting up to light a cigarette and blow smoke in Michelle’s direction.
She coughed. “Daddy wouldn’t let you smoke in the house,” she said accusingly.
“Well, Daddy’s dead, isn’t he?” Roberta said pointedly, and she smiled.
“We could make it a threesome, if you like,” Bert offered, sitting up with his shirt half-off.
Michelle’s expression was eloquent. “If I speak to my minister...”
“Shut up, Bert!” Roberta said shortly, and her eyes dared him to say another word. She looked back at Michelle with cold eyes and got to her feet. “Come on, Bert, let’s go to your place.” She grabbed him by the hand and had led him to the bedroom. Apparently their clothes were in there.
Disgusted beyond measure, Michelle went into her room and locked the door.
She could hear them arguing. A few minutes later they came back out.
“I won’t be here for dinner,” Roberta said.
Michelle didn’t reply.
“Little torment,” Roberta grumbled. “She’s always watching, always so pure and unblemished,” she added harshly.
“I could take care of that,” Bert said.
“Shut up!” Roberta said again. “Come on, Bert!”
Michelle could feel herself flushing with anger as she heard them go out the door. Roberta slammed it behind her.
Michelle had peeked out the curtains and watched them climb into Bert’s low-slung car. He pulled out into the road.
She closed the curtains with a sigh of pure relief. Nobody knew what a hell those two made of her life. She had no peace. Apparently Roberta had been seeing Bert for some time, because they were obviously obsessed with each other. But it had come as a shock to walk in the door and find them kissing the day after Michelle’s father was buried, to say nothing of what she’d just seen.
* * *
The days since then had been tense and uncomfortable. The two of them made fun of Michelle, ridiculed the way she dressed, the way she thought. And Roberta was full of petty comments about Michelle’s father and the illness that had killed him. Roberta had never even gone to the hospital. It had been Michelle who’d sat with him until he slipped away, peacefully, in his sleep.
She lay on her back and looked at the ceiling. It was only a few months until graduation. She made very good grades. She hoped Marist College in San Antonio would take her. She’d already applied. She was sweating out the admissions, because she’d have to have a scholarship or she couldn’t afford to go. Not only that, she’d have to have a job.
She’d worked part-time at a mechanic’s shop while her father was alive. He’d drop her off after school and pick her up when she finished work. But his illness had come on quickly and she’d lost the job. Roberta wasn’t about to provide transportation.
She rolled over restlessly. Maybe there would be something she could get in San Antonio, perhaps in a convenience store if all else failed. She didn’t mind hard work. She was used to it. Since her father had married Roberta, Michelle had done all the cooking and cleaning and laundry. She even mowed the lawn.
Her father had seemed to realize his mistake toward the end. He’d apologized for bringing Roberta into their lives. He’d been lonely since her mother died, and Roberta had flattered him and made him feel good. She’d been fun to be around during the courtship—even Michelle had thought so. Roberta went shopping with the girl, praised her cooking, acted like a really nice person. It wasn’t until after the wedding that she’d shown her true colors.
Michelle had always thought it was the alcohol that had made her change so suddenly for the worse. It wasn’t discussed in front of her, but Michelle knew that Roberta had been missing for a few weeks, just before her father was diagnosed with cancer. And there was gossip that the doctor had sent his young wife off to a rehabilitation center because of a drinking problem. Afterward, Roberta hadn’t been quite so hard to live with. Until they’d moved to Comanche Wells, at least.
Dr. Godfrey had patted Michelle on the shoulder only days before the cancer had taken a sudden turn for the worse and he was bedridden. He’d smiled ruefully.
“I’m very sorry, sweetheart,” he’d told her. “If I could go back and change things...”
“I know, Daddy. It’s all right.”
He’d pulled her close and kissed her forehead. “You’re like your mother. She took things to heart, too. You have to learn how to deal with unpleasant people. You have to learn not to take life so seriously....”
“Alan, are you ever coming inside?” Roberta had interrupted petulantly. She hated seeing her husband and her stepdaughter together. She made every effort to keep them apart. “What are you doing, anyway, looking at those stupid smelly cattle?”
“I’ll be there in a moment, Roberta,” he called back.
“The dishes haven’t been washed,” she told Michelle with a cold smile. “Your job,