Home to Texas

by Kaki Warner

  “Yeah, we do. And quit dodging the question with another question. What happened at the arraignment?”

  “I’m not dodging. We just don’t talk about it.” She undid her ponytail and shook out her hair, hoping to distract him.

  No luck. “Why don’t you talk about it?”

  “You’re interrogating me now?”

  Richard frowned down at her, feet spread, arms folded across his chest. KD thought of it as his “just the facts, ma’am” pose. It made him look spectacularly handsome. And sexy. And very irritated, it seemed.

  “I’m not interrogating. I’m asking.”

  Muttering, KD bent down and unbuckled her sandals. “We don’t talk about it because if County Commissioner Adkins found out what really happened, Dalton could get into a lot of trouble.”

  “Who’s that?”

  She straightened, the sandals in her hand. “The uncle of the college kid Dalton was supposed to have killed.”

  “If Dalton didn’t kill him, why—”

  “Oh my God!” KD threw the sandals through the open closet door so hard they hit the back wall with a thud.

  Richard waited.

  “Okay. But if I tell you, you have to promise you won’t ever say anything about it. Not even to Dalton.”

  “I promise. What happened at the arraignment?”

  She leaned back onto her elbows, hoping to draw his attention to her boobs and away from Dalton’s allegedly criminal past. That didn’t work, either. “Dalton pleaded guilty,” she finally said. “Told the judge that on the night of the wreck, he was moving a tractor across the county road from one field to another. It was late. He was tired. He didn’t look before crossing and didn’t see the car until it slammed into the side of his tractor.”

  “Was he hurt?”

  “No. But the driver of the car was killed. Jim Bob Adkins. A known speeder with two previous DUIs that his uncle had made go away. There was talk he might have been drunk the night of the wreck. But since Dalton didn’t have a trial, and the autopsy report wasn’t made public, we’ll never know for sure.”

  “Did Dalton have a lawyer?”

  “Didn’t want one. Said that since he hadn’t looked before crossing the road, the wreck was his fault.”

  “And that’s what he told the judge?”

  KD nodded. “Are we done talking about it now?”

  “After you tell me what really happened. And the truth, this time.”

  “For the love of sweet baby Jesus! You’re relentless! You know that?” When he just stared at her in silence, she gave up. “Okay. Okay. If you must know, Dalton wasn’t the one driving the tractor.”

  Richard blinked in surprise. “Then who was?”

  “His younger brother.”

  “Why did Dalton cover for him?”

  “Because Timmy is mentally challenged. Dalton figured he’d be warehoused in some institution, which would have been a nightmare for poor Timmy, or he’d be sent to prison, which would have been worse. He couldn’t do that to his little brother, especially since he was the one who had told Timmy to move the tractor, but had forgotten to remind him to stop and look both ways. And that’s the whole story.” She flopped back on the bed, arms thrown wide. “So let’s drop it.”

  “Let’s not.” Richard leaned over, grabbed her hand, and pulled her upright again. “That doesn’t make sense, KD. A good lawyer probably could have gotten Timmy off on diminished capacity, or could have brought in the driver’s record of DUIs. Maybe his brother would have gotten off with probation.”

  KD threw her hands up in exasperation. “Probably. Maybe. Who knows? The fact is, Dalton’s parents didn’t have money for a good lawyer. And even if Timmy had managed to avoid criminal liability, Commissioner Adkins would have filed a wrongful death civil suit against his parents as his guardian. The Cardwells would have been wiped out financially, and they weren’t well-off to start with.”

  “He could have sued Dalton just as easily,” Richard pointed out.

  “Why? At the time, Dalton didn’t have anything for Adkins to take. The way Dalton saw it, eighteen months in prison was a small price to pay to keep his brother safe and his family solvent.”

  “Damn, KD.” Shaking his head, Richard sank down onto the bed beside her. “That’s crazy.”

  “Maybe. But Dalton is still convinced it was the right thing to do. And if the commissioner found out he lied about what happened, he’d come after Dalton, his brother, and his family with everything he’s got.” She gave Richard a warning look. “You can’t say anything to anybody. Ever. Understood?”

  “Yeah. But it’s still crazy. Is Timmy okay?”

  “Dalton’s parents sold their place and moved to Plainview. Tim’s in a group home and doing great. And that’s the end of it.”

  Richard thought of how he’d walked away from his own brother, and felt again the shame that still haunted him. He admired Dalton for doing what he did, even though it came at a terrible price. Yet somehow, Cardwell had made it through a prison stint without the bitterness or anger Richard had seen in other cons. And now here he was, living the dream. “Are your other sisters as soft touches as you and Raney are?”

  “Soft? Me and Raney?” KD laughed. “We’re the hard-asses. Wait until you meet dream-chaser Joss and socialite Len. You’ll see who’s soft.”

  “Yet you’re the ones who took broken guys and tried to make them whole again.”

  Her smile faded. “Do you really consider yourself broken, Richard? Not because of Emery, I hope.”

  “More because of my brother. Kenny needed me, and I walked away.”

  KD understood guilt. She had lived with it for months. It saddened her to see it now on Richard’s face. “You tried to help him, Richard. If he wouldn’t accept it, that’s on him, not you. And I certainly don’t think of you as broken. Dalton, either. You both dealt with awful situations, did what you thought was right, suffered for it, and came out stronger. You’re amazing guys.”

  He looked at her in silence for a long time. She hoped he believed her, could see the truth in her eyes.

  Finally, he gave that crooked half smile. “Maybe you and Raney are the amazing ones for taking chances on us.”

  She covered her relief with a smirk. “That goes without saying.”

  With a predatory grin, he gently pushed her down on her back, then lay across her, chest to breast, his weight on his elbows, his hands framing her face.

  “A wise man,” he said, “Mark Twain, I think it was, said the two most important days in your life”—he paused to dip down for a kiss—“are the day you’re born”—another, longer kiss—“and the day you find out why.” He ran the tip of his tongue across her bottom lip. “I think I’m beginning to figure out why I was born.”

  Her arms slid around his waist and held him tight against her. “Why?” she whispered, and lifted her mouth for another kiss.

  “I’ll tell you when I’m sure. Right now, I need to see you naked.”

  * * *

  * * *

  Work on Tent City began late the following week.

  Within a few days, Hicks had completed the tractor work and put the septic system in, foundations and flooring for the tents were level and in place, and the therapy horses had been selected. While Dalton and Raney strung hot-wire corrals, Alejandro brought in water troughs and began collecting all the tack and grooming supplies the horses would need for the first session. KD ordered two honey buckets, a refrigerator, and a thousand-gallon propane tank to be delivered ASAP.

  By the end of the next week, the electrical and propane conduit was in, the water lines had been laid, and the six 10-by-12 tents and the big screened canopy tent had arrived and were soon set up.

  When KD’s mother wasn’t supervising, she was ordering everything from hot water heaters, kitchen cabinets and counters, to dinnerware an
d utensils and furniture for the tents. Which, thankfully, kept her busy and off-site.

  With Harvey’s help, Richard put in plumbing for the shower stalls and valves for the propane hot water heaters and cookstove, put in a circuit box, wired each tent for an overhead light, and installed a 220 line for the oversized refrigerator that would soon be delivered. After a busy weekend, they called in an electrician and plumber to inspect all the wiring and plumbing connections and got the go-ahead from both, which was a huge relief to Richard.

  On Wednesday of the third week, the cots, camp chairs, and small tables Mrs. Whitcomb had ordered for each tent arrived, and she and her two daughters stayed out of everybody’s way adding decorative touches to make the canvas residences less stark. Dalton and Alejandro finished a big stone firepit in the center of the compound, put split log benches around it, and laid in a generous supply of dry firewood. And finally, on Thursday, the propane guy arrived, tested all the connections, gave Richard a thumbs-up, and set the tank. After a site cleanup, the only things missing were the refrigerator, a supply of food, and the two honey buckets.

  Start to finish. Three weeks. Not bad.

  Now all they needed were a few traumatized guinea pigs willing to submit to a week of therapeutic horse handling at the Rough Creek Second Chance Rehabilitation Center and a trained therapist to run the show.

  “What do you think?” Dalton asked Richard as they walked through the finished tent compound later that afternoon.

  “I like it. Has kind of a homey feel to it. Adding the center fire ring and log benches was a nice touch.” Homey? A nice touch? He was starting to sound like Mrs. Whitcomb.

  Dalton’s phone buzzed. He checked it and grinned. “The little woman says to hurry home. Dinner’s ready.”

  “She fix it herself?” Richard asked as they headed back to the main house. He couldn’t remember seeing any of the Whitcomb women hanging around the kitchen, except to eat.

  Dalton snorted. “Hell, no. Woman can hardly make a sandwich. Matter of fact, I don’t think any Whitcomb female can cook. Including Mama.”

  Richard grinned over at him. “Luckily they have other talents.”

  “Damn straight.”

  When they walked past the paddocks beside the horse barn, Rosco trotted over to see what they were up to. He was a beautiful animal, and it was clear there was a strong bond between the trainer and the stallion.

  “When’s his next cutting show?” Richard asked.

  “This Saturday. You and KD ought to come.”

  “KD has to be in Hood on Friday to get her Purple Heart.”

  Dalton gave the horse a final pat, and they continued toward the house. “She still doesn’t want us coming to the ceremony?”

  Richard shook his head. “She’d prefer you didn’t. Says she might just have them mail the medal to her instead. Sees it as a payoff for keeping her mouth shut, rather than something she should be proud of.”

  “That’s wrong.”

  “I tried to tell her that. But she’s still struggling with the whole thing.”

  When they neared the house, Richard saw the sheriff’s cruiser parked on the drive and wondered how much longer he could put Ford off about running for sheriff. He’d been so busy at Tent City, he hadn’t given it much thought. He knew he’d have to make a decision soon or start looking at other jobs. He couldn’t stay at the ranch forever. But leaving Four Star would mean leaving KD, too. He wasn’t ready for that.

  “Maybe while KD’s at Hood,” Dalton suggested, “she can find a therapist to run the rehab project.”

  “She plans to.” And hopefully, the therapist could figure out why, after a month of mostly calm nights, KD was having anxiety issues again. “She also has an appointment with Wounded Warrior to see if they might cover some of the food costs or help with transportation. I’ll be talking to the MPs there, too,” he added. “See if they’ve heard any chatter about Khalil.”

  Dalton opened the gate onto the back lawn. “It’s been almost two months since his son died. You still think he’s coming?”

  “I do.” Richard stopped and faced the horse trainer. “Earlier, I talked to my MP contact in Afghanistan. Still no sign of Khalil, but he confirmed that he’d left the country with two other men. His nephew and a friend of his son.”

  “Does he still think they’re coming here?”

  Richard shrugged. “I wouldn’t put it past them. These guys love an honor killing, and Khalil Farid is known for them.”

  * * *

  * * *

  The three men from Afghanistan had traveled for many weeks, but soon, with Allah’s blessing, they would begin the next part of their journey. In Pakistan, after buying falsified travel papers and new IDs, they had begun the long, circuitous sea route that took them across the Arabian Sea to Mombasa, Kenya, then around the Cape of Good Hope and up the west coast of Africa. Now in Dakar, Senegal, they waited impatiently for the trawler that would carry them across the Atlantic Ocean to Matamoros, Mexico, a small seaport on the Gulf of Mexico, across the border from a place in the state of Texas called Brownsville.

  Soon, they would be in the land of the infidels. Their daggers would taste the blood of the savages who had brought dishonor to the Khalil family. Only then could the soul of Asef Khalil rest in peace. It had been a difficult journey and there was still a long way to go. But they were patient men and knew Allah would keep them safe.

  CHAPTER 16

  Shortly after dawn on Friday, KD and Richard headed out on the five-hour drive to Fort Hood. This time, they took Dalton’s blue truck on a test run, since Richard was thinking of buying it. Four Star had two ranch trucks, and Raney had her own truck, so Dalton no longer needed one of his own. Besides, he always drove Rosco to the cutting shows in the ranch truck and trailer with the Whitcomb Four Star logos on the sides. He said it was good advertising. Especially after the stud’s fine showing at the Fort Worth Futurity last year, and Dalton had added Rosco’s name across the back of the trailer in big, bold letters. KD hoped her brother-in-law would love his offspring as much as he loved that horse.

  Having slept poorly the night before, she dozed most of the way to Waco. Nightmares again. Richard had tried to talk to her about it, but she’d put him off, saying it was probably just indigestion. He didn’t look like he bought it, but he didn’t press her.

  KD wasn’t sure what was wrong. Everything was going well. Even though she was tired from all the Tent City preparations, she was proud of the results and totally committed to the horse therapy project. She even planned to put the idea of a test run before the members of her former therapy group when she was at Hood.

  She had also found time to spend with the horses they would use for the project. A bittersweet chore. Although she wasn’t as horse-crazy as Raney, KD had spent her younger years around horses, and while she’d been away at school and on active duty, she had missed them almost as much as her family. The smell of them, the snuffling sounds they made when she brought them treats, the feel of their warm, satiny coats beneath her stroking hand, all evoked so many happy memories.

  But since she’d come home, not knowing when, or if, she would ever be able to ride again, she had purposely stayed away from the stables. It was hard for her to accept that she might never feel the sting of wind in her eyes as she raced across a pasture, or carry a flag in a rodeo procession, or simply enjoy a quiet, relaxing outing with her favorite horse. Horses gave so much, and asked for so little in return. But after spending time with them over the last few weeks, she’d realized equine therapy might be helping her, too. Her bitterness was starting to fade. Maybe she wouldn’t be able to ride again, but she could still love horses, and take care of them, and teach others how to do that, too. She could still stay connected.

  Richard was doing well, too. He and Dalton were like brothers. Even Mama was warming up to him—probably thinking Richard was her best inducement
to keep her youngest fledgling from escaping the nest a second time. And his hard work on Tent City had quickly earned him the respect of the other ranch hands, even overly protective Alejandro. KD was amazed at what he had accomplished.

  Her oldest sister, Len, had made a short one-day trip to the ranch several days ago—specifically to meet Richard, Raney said, although she had arrived loaded with gifts from her travels through the Caribbean. Before she returned home, Len gave Richard her seal of approval, wrote the therapy project a check for five thousand tax-deductible dollars, and told KD to bring “her hunk” to Dallas for a visit before her kids decamped for the summer. The only sister Richard hadn’t met was Joss. Which was okay with KD. She had enough drama in her life for now.

  It was strange, but fun, having two vibrant, oversized, opinionated men around after living so many years in a female household. Card games on the veranda were intensely competitive, and video sessions of Call of Duty often lasted well into the evening.

  Nights were wonderful. KD never knew sex could be such fun, and falling asleep with Richard by her side should have been all the assurance she needed.

  But something was wrong. As construction on Tent City had wound down, her anxiety had increased. Even Richard seemed more restless and distracted. She didn’t know if her nightmares were keeping him awake, or if it was his unspoken worry about what he would do after the project was completed. Whatever it was that had them both so wound up, she planned to ask Dr. Prescott to increase her medication again.

  Since it was late morning when they arrived in Killeen, they went directly to the base rather than checking into the hotel. As they stopped at Hood’s main gate, KD’s feeling of alienation returned. That they no longer belonged here was made clear by the careful scrutiny the guard gave their newly issued Veterans’ IDs and by the VISITOR PASS they had to display on the windshield. Troops marching past didn’t spare them a glance. Even having to circle around to the back of the medical center to find the visitors’ lot were all reminders to KD that they were no longer a part of this bustling military community.