There was an undertone in her voice, a sort of almost wistfulness that tugged at him. He’d never wanted to live anywhere but here, although he intellectually understood those who wanted to see the world. But he’d never thought about what it must be like to be someone who had seen much of the world, but never had a place to really call home. It wasn’t in him to live like that, and he knew it.
“The roots of a born Texan go deep,” he said. Then, after a beat, he added, “They have to, to survive the place.”
She laughed, and it made him feel…he wasn’t sure what.
“Your five times great-grandmother survived, though, right?”
He nodded. “That’s what I was going to show you.” He reached into his back pocket for his wallet. He pulled out the folded, well-worn piece of paper next to his cash. “We all carry a copy of this. Used to be just a copy of the words, but then Cody—the birthday brother—had the idea to scan the original so we could each have it in her own hand.”
He unfolded it carefully. Traced, as he always did, the ragged line of the edge of torn paper, the brownish smear that they suspected was the blood of the man the writer of this short note had fought beside.
“Looks like it’s time for a new copy,” she said.
“Soon,” he agreed as he slid it over to her; he didn’t need to look at it, for the words had long ago been committed to memory.
My little loves,
Things are looking bad here. Your father is down, and I fear he is gone. This may well be our last stand, but we fight on. We are outnumbered, outgunned, the only hope we have now is that this Texas stone will hold. But if it does not, know that we loved you with all our hearts.
You are Texas born and bred, so I know you will survive even if we do not. Never forget that you are proud sons of this land we love. Make your own stand here, and never run. That is all that is required of a Texian.
They are circling back now, and we must be ready. If this is goodbye, my beloved boys, then so it must be. Know that you are ever and always loved.
Your mother
He knew when she reached the end by the way she blinked rapidly. And swallowed visibly. Then she looked up at him. “She wrote this during the actual battle?”
He nodded. “She clearly thought she, too, would die. She wanted them to know how much she loved them.”
She gave a slow shake of her head. “Wow. Just…wow.”
“If she had died, we likely never would have seen it. If they followed the pattern of the troops who took the Alamo, it would have burned up with her body.”
She looked at the page again, gently touched the dark smear. “I’ve seen sites where awful things happened, all over the world. Oddly, I’ve never had the nerve to go to the Alamo.”
“You should. If you want to understand Texas, anyway.”
“I do. I need to understand. For Lucas.” She looked up again. “Don’t I?”
He nodded. “Lucas is a Texan. He’ll never voluntarily leave.” He left it at that, because in his mind that said it all.
“What is it about this place?” She sounded as if she were musing out loud.
“I could give you a list, but it would be meaningless to you. Some things you just have to learn for yourself.”
“I’ve…never felt that way about anywhere.”
He leaned back, considering. Remembering what she’d told him. Compared it to his own history, thinking back to those Texians referred to on that page, those who had been here since the land had belonged to Mexico, and who had fought to free it. “It sounds as if you were never given the chance to.”
She shrugged as if it didn’t matter.
Or as if it hurt too much.
“Do your parents know where you are, what you’re doing?” He wasn’t sure what made him ask. Maybe it was just the difficulty he was having imagining a life like the one she’d led. Because he was fairly certain now that when Shane got the background check back on her, it would say it was all true.
“No.”
“Do they even care?”
“No.” He didn’t know what to say to that, so said nothing. And after a moment she gave a slow shake of her head. “And here you are, with proof that even your five times great-grandmother cared enough for her children to write this—” she touched the worn page almost reverently, nearly the same way he did “—when she was in danger of dying in the next moment.”
“Yes. And she inspired my father to do the same.”
“Your father?”
“Each time he was deployed, he knew there was a chance he wouldn’t come home. So every time, he wrote us each a letter.”
He saw her blink rapidly. She lowered her gaze, and he saw her bite her lip before she said, “That’s beautiful.”
“He knew just how to word it, what to talk about, to each one of us, because…he knew us. Individually. And what he’d given us. Me, the love of the ranch. Chance, the love of country. Ry, his artistic talent. And Cody, his tactical mind.”
“And your family is still that way.”
“Pretty much, yes. We pull together.”
There was a prolonged, silent moment. She took a long draw on the straw in her lemonade. Keller abandoned the straw, preferring a good, healthy gulp. When she looked up at him again, those golden eyes were a bit too shiny.
“A real family.”
He nodded. “Lucas’s parents were the same way. They were very, very close. From what he’s said they adored him, and he knew it. I think that was one of the reasons he had so much trouble. Why he couldn’t stand another day at the group home.”
She lowered her gaze then, and when she swiped at her eyes, he told himself he couldn’t be sure if this was real or an act. Except…he was starting to believe her. Things were starting to stack up in favor of her tale being true. He would, of course, wait for the DNA results, and Shane’s investigation, but…
Another long stretch of silence spun out between them. She sipped her lemonade, he took another couple of big swallows. Finally she looked up at him again.
“Frank told me…about your father.”
His fingers tightened around his glass. He consciously loosened them. “Did he?”
“He said you were only seventeen, but you held the family together.”
He let out a compressed breath. “No. That was my mother. We would have scattered to the four winds by now if not for her.”
“So you stayed to take care of her?”
That idea blasted away the remnants of the grief that had tried to rise up anew. And he laughed. “My mother doesn’t need anyone to take care of her. She’s a dynamo, a force of nature, the brightest star in the sky, take your pick of clichés. There’s nobody in this town who wouldn’t stop and listen if she had something to say.” His mouth quirked. “Which she often does.”
“She sounds…amazing.”
“She is. She’s…our gravity. Our center.”
“You love her.”
“I do. We all do. And she us. That’s been the one certainty of all our lives.”
Something came into those golden eyes then, a look of longing mixed with sadness that wrenched at his gut. This much, that she had never known that kind of love, he believed now, because that look in her eyes was proof enough. And he couldn’t imagine what growing up like that must have been like. Even if she was a fake, if this was all some kind of scam for some reason they didn’t know yet, he still felt sorry for the child she’d been. He—
“Hey, Rafferty.”
His head snapped around at the feminine voice. A familiar voice. Brittany Roth stood there holding her own lemonade in a to-go cup, clad in her usual jeans and worn cowboy boots, today paired with a summer tank top. A tank top that displayed a rather vivid bruise on her left shoulder.
He stood up. “Britt,” he said. He made a quick introduction to Sydney, by name only, which both women acknowledged with a brief hello and nice-to-meet-you. And then with a nod at the bruise, he added, “Ouch.”
“Yeah.
You can thank your brother for that.”
“Uh-oh. Which one?” He already knew the answer, but it was a game they played.
“As if you don’t know. Cody and his damned creations. One of them spooked my mare and she threw me.”
He raised a brow at her. “That’s not an easy task.”
“Flattery from you won’t get your brother a pass.”
“Wasn’t flattering. I know how hard it would be for you to take a header. Or in this case, a shoulder.”
“Ha-ha. Just tell him if I see one of those things again, I won’t be responsible for my actions.”
“I’ll pass along the warning. Or was it a threat?”
“I’m not sure yet,” she said wryly.
As he watched her go, Keller slowly sat down again. Saw that Sydney was watching him assessingly. Very assessingly. And it suddenly occurred to him that, if the story and the bio on the website were true, he wasn’t just dealing with some lost soul with a horrible life story. Or even someone who might have a legitimate claim on Lucas.
He was dealing with a business powerhouse.
Chapter Fourteen
“Old friend?” Sydney asked, glancing at the departing woman one last time before she stepped out the door of the saloon. There hadn’t seemed to be any sparks between her and Keller. Why that would matter, or why she’d even thought it, she wasn’t sure. Or wouldn’t admit.
“Lifetime neighbor. Her family’s ranch backs up to ours.”
She took another long draw on her straw as she pondered. Someone he’d known for years, yet he still stood when she’d approached them. She found that…she wasn’t sure what. Nice, probably, after some of the places she’d been where women were still chattel, or worse.
“She looked like she would live on a ranch.”
He seemed to stiffen. “Meaning?”
“Those boots weren’t for show.”
“Oh.” He relaxed again, and she found herself liking that he’d bridled—she smiled inwardly at the horsey-sounding word—at the perceived insult to a friend.
“But that was a nasty bruise.”
“She’s had worse.” At her look, he explained. “She’s a barrel racer, and trains barrel horses. It comes with the territory.”
Her brow furrowed. She had no idea exactly what a barrel racer was. But something else seemed more important at the moment.
“She seemed…upset.”
He shrugged. “She and Cody are at odds again. They’re the same age and they never did get along.”
“This is the birthday boy?” He nodded. “And his…creations?”
“That’s ‘damned creations,’” he corrected, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Cody’s a serious tech-head.”
“What’s he building? Robots?” She had a vision of some huge mechanical horse lumbering across the Texas hills.
“Drones.”
She blinked. “The flying kind?”
He nodded. “He’s been trying to build the perfect drone for years.”
“Perfect?” Didn’t the military have the best and brightest already doing that?
“For him, that means silent.”
“Oh. They aren’t?”
“They can be, on battery power. But their range on battery is so limited they aren’t of great use. So they need engines, and those make noise.” He nodded toward where the woman had been standing. “I’m guessing that’s what spooked Britt’s horse.”
“Oh.”
She sat silently for a moment. Watched as he finished the last of the admittedly delicious and startlingly reviving peach lemonade. He fished out the cherry, and she pondered the fact that he’d left it until the end. She’d say saving the best for last, if the lemonade itself hadn’t been so good. She wondered what that said about each of them, that she’d gobbled it first, as if afraid it wouldn’t be there when she was done, and that he’d left it until he was done, as if…he’d had to earn it. She had the strangest feeling she’d stumbled onto something important, although she couldn’t say exactly why.
Just as she couldn’t say exactly when she’d given up thinking of him as Mr. Rafferty.
He dropped the stem and pit back into the glass. She quickly finished her own lemonade, not wanting to make him wait around. Because he would. The man was nothing if not polite. That corny Southern gentleman stuff wasn’t a myth.
She put her empty down on the napkin and slid it back a little. “Where do we put the glasses?”
“Nowhere,” he said, but he was looking past her and nodding. “Somebody needs something to do. Or an excuse to come over.”
Puzzled, she looked around just as a young man wearing an apron appeared at the table.
“’Lo, Mr. Keller.”
“Hi, Luke. How goes it?”
“’Kay,” the young man said, not even looking at her. In fact, he was barely looking at Keller, whom he obviously knew. “Thank you. For helping.”
Keller just smiled. “No more, my friend. Three thank-yous are my limit. How’s the computer working out?”
The young man—he looked not much more than a boy—raised his head, and now he was smiling. “Great. Perfect.”
“Good,” Keller said with a warm smile. “I’ll tell Cody.”
“Tell him…thanks. From me,” he added.
“I will.”
She looked at Keller curiously when the boy gathered up their glasses, put them carefully in the plastic tray he carried, and headed off toward the bar. “Computer?”
“Cody builds systems, among other things, and he and Sean Highwater built one for him. He’s got some…issues communicating, and they designed it specifically to help him with that.”
“Together? So they’re friends, too?”
“Yes. Sean’s a couple of years older, but they’ve got the computer and tech stuff in common, so they relate well.”
“Is he…allowed to work in a saloon? Age-wise, I mean?”
“He’s older than most people think.”
“So it’s the…communication issue that makes him seem younger.” Keller nodded. “And yet the other Highwater brother hired him.”
“Yes.” He tapped a finger on the table. “He thought it might help him. And it has. He’s got the history of the saloon down pat now, and can give the spiel to tourists without a pause. That’s close to a miracle, his folks say. And Slater says he does a better job cleaning up than the last two helpers he had in here.”
“He thanked you, too.” He only shrugged. “While very expressive,” she said pointedly, “a shrug is not an answer.”
“Didn’t hear a question.”
Was he truly avoiding answering, or was he just trying to be annoying because it was her asking? “Then let me rephrase. Why did he thank you, in addition to your brother and yet another Highwater brother?”
He let out a breath as if he were the one annoyed. She let the silence draw out until he finally said, “I…might have suggested to Slater he give the guy a shot.”
It didn’t surprise her. She sat back against the upholstered back of the booth seat. Remembered her discussion with Ranger Buckley. “So that’s a habit of yours? Helping out?”
“It’s a habit of Texans,” he retorted.
“Along with extravagant pride in your home state.”
“No.” At her look, he went on. “Extravagant implies unwarranted. Not the case.” She couldn’t stop her smile. “Amused, are you?” he drawled.
“I just like the way you put that.”
“Coherently, you mean?”
She gave him a sour look. “And here I was thinking how nice you’ve been.” He blinked at that, looking disconcerted enough that she risked going on. “And wondering why.”
He lowered his gaze, then started tapping on the table again. She wondered if he simply wasn’t used to just sitting still, and it resulted in this small tic of a sort. Although he hadn’t done it during the meeting at the inn. But that had been pretty intense, so maybe it was a mental outlet as well as physical.
<
br /> Meaning he was bored? That this—she—wasn’t holding his attention as that meeting had?
Rein it in, Syd.
She nearly laughed out loud at herself as she realized she’d used yet another horsey-related figure of speech.
“So,” she said when he didn’t speak, “why are you being nice to me?”
He looked up at her again. Answered, but didn’t. “Lark says she believes that you believe you’re telling the truth about your connection to Lucas.”
“I am. What do you believe?”
There was a long moment of silence before he said, “That I misjudged you in the beginning.”
She hadn’t expected him to admit that, this quickly or even at all. “Thank you.”
He grimaced slightly. “I just mean I don’t think you’re after money. Obviously you don’t need what small amount you might finagle out of Lucas’s inheritance.”
She drew back, stung. Just? Meaning he thought she was after something else…nefarious? Then the rest of what he’d said registered. “And just how would you know I don’t need it?”
His mouth quirked then. “Apparently every female in my family and Shane’s shop at your online store. And they all say it’s a big deal.”
She hadn’t expected that. And couldn’t deny that the answer, if not his grudging admission, pleased her. “Oh. I’m glad to hear it.”
“How’d you get into that?”
She shrugged. “All the traveling, I kept seeing people who created useful tools that were also beautiful. Many of them were living in poverty, but making things I knew could be sold and improve their standard of living. Except they had no way to expand their reach beyond their local region, had no access to marketing. So I started with just a small storefront, and…it ballooned.”
“And you stayed with it.”
“So far. Although it’s established enough now, with reps all over, that I don’t have to do as much as I used to. Which means I can spend time with Lucas,” she added, turning the conversation back to the most important thing to her right now. “You said you don’t think I’m after money. Which infers you think I’m after something else. What?”
“I don’t know. And I’m not going to spend time and energy on speculating between now and when the DNA results come back. Which, by the way, Shane says may take a while.”
Nothing But Cowboy Page 9
