Texas Manhunt

by Linda Conrad

  She noted a twinkle in this Chance’s sober eyes, though his mouth never cracked a smile. Interesting.

  “I think you’ll find Chance is a fairly friendly place,” Travis went on. “We’ll locate someone to take you in for the night. Are you hungry?”

  “Um…” She hadn’t thought about food in so long she drew a blank. “I suppose so. Is there a restaurant in Chance?”

  Without answering, Travis turned his head to speak to Jimmy. “Lend us your pickup, and we’ll go over to Macy’s for a bite to eat and have ourselves a little chat. Meanwhile, you finish up with the SUV and tow her car in. After supper I’ll call Reverend and Mrs. Pike. They’ll surely make room for her.

  “We’ll be back…” He continued speaking to Jimmy as he reached for her hand “…in about an hour or two to collect the SUV and her things from the Ford. Okay?”

  Travis didn’t seem too concerned whether or not his arrangements were all right with her and Jimmy. He didn’t wait for an answer and just dragged her away. She wasn’t crazy about having her hand held by a near-stranger’s, but he didn’t give her a chance to complain.

  “You’ll like Macy’s food,” he told her as he strode toward an old blue pickup at the side of the bay. “It’s the only eating place in town, but she does a terrific Texas barbecue plate. I think we can beat the worst of the storm there if we hurry.”

  As though to agree, her stomach rumbled at the word barbecue. Travis didn’t appear to notice. He was intent on shoving her up into the passenger seat of the old pickup.

  Well, she was hungry. And if he turned out to be a serial killer, she wouldn’t lose too much. She hadn’t had anything to lose for a long, long time. If this was the night she was destined to die, Texas barbecue sounded like a great last meal.

  * * *

  Travis Chance chided himself for once again stepping into someone else’s business. And another lost soul, at that. He’d given his word to Aunt June just last Sunday that he would stop picking up strays and giving money to people who would only drink it down or shoot it up. Looked like he would never learn.

  But this young woman seemed different. There was something about her that drew him.

  Yeah, yeah. She had the sexiest eyes he’d seen in longer than he could remember. Big, wide, and a shade of iridescent-blue he couldn’t put a name to.

  But that had nothing to do with giving someone a hand and being hospitable. Mostly, he was trying to do a good deed—and he was curious about her.

  At about five foot eight, she stood slender and slightly bent, like a sapling against the wind. There was something fragile in the way she held her head. As though at any moment she would be struck down by an invisible hand.

  He had to find out more about her. And seeing that she got a good, hot meal in the meantime would set his mind at ease.

  They made it to Macy’s Café just as the heavens opened up. He parked and raced around the pickup to the passenger side, trying to help her down without getting wet. But when he got there, she’d already climbed out and was moving toward the door at a good pace.

  As he slipped inside the café right behind her, he came to the conclusion she might have a stronger center than he’d first thought. His curiosity burned brighter.

  Macy’s place was nearly empty. A couple of hands appeared to be finishing their suppers at one table, while old Mrs. Murphy sat alone at the counter. All of them turned to look as he found a table and showed Summer to a seat.

  “Evening, Travis.” Mrs. Murphy swiveled around on her barstool to give him a bright smile. “Not such a pleasant night, I’m afraid. You should be home eating one of Rosie’s suppers, instead of out in this storm.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Travis removed his Stetson and placed it on an empty chair. “Except Rosie’s off for a few days to San Antonio on a trousseau-buying trip.”

  Mrs. Murphy cast a blatant and curious glance at Summer. “I see. What about Jenna?”

  The third degree. Wasn’t that just typical of half the nosy population of Chance?

  “Jenna’s been staying in town with her great aunt this week. I intend to pick her up on my way out to the ranch.”

  By this point, Mrs. Murphy wasn’t paying a bit of attention to his words. Her sole focus centered on Summer. Heaven forbid a new person should come to town without her being introduced.

  Shaking his head, Travis gave in and gestured to the young woman at his left. “Mrs. Murphy, this is Summer Wheeler. Her car broke down up the road, and Jimmy will be towing it in to check it out when the storm lets up.”

  The temptation proved too much for the old lady. She climbed down from the stool and came over to stand next to the table, instead of shouting across the room. He didn’t have a choice. Pushing his chair back, he stood.

  “How do you do, young lady?” Mrs. Murphy said as she gazed down at Summer. “Do you have relatives in town? Can’t say I recognize the name Wheeler from around Chance.”

  Summer, still fiddling with her silverware and napkin, kept her seat and didn’t seem inclined to shake hands. But Mrs. Murphy didn’t seem interested in shaking, either.

  Still holding the fork in her right hand, Summer glanced up at the older woman. “I don’t know anyone here, I’m afraid. I was lost when my car broke down. But Chance seems like a nice place.” She nodded her head toward him. “Mr. Chance here was kind enough to offer me a ride to the café for dinner.”

  Mrs. Murphy beamed down at her. “Ah, yes. That’s our Travis.” She threw him an indulgent look. “Takes an interest in everyone in town. But, well, I suppose he should. He and his family do own most everything for miles around.”

  Travis squirmed in his boots, not sure what to say. Mrs. Murphy opened her mouth as though she had another question for Summer. But luckily, Macy, the owner of the café, barged out of the kitchen right then, her hands full of steaming plates.

  “Hi, Travis. Be right with you.” Macy set a couple of plates down on the counter. “Come get this food ’fore it gets cold, Aunt Betty.” Then without waiting for a reply, Macy spun, heading off in the direction of the other occupied table.

  After Mrs. Murphy mumbled something about it being nice to meet Summer and headed back to her seat, Travis let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding, and sat back down. The old lady’s stool was too far away for her to eavesdrop, if he kept his voice down.

  “Do you really own everything for miles around?” Summer’s eyes were wide.

  “Yeah, the Bar-C encompasses much of the county. But not the town, of course. And there’re also a couple of smaller ranches nearby that we don’t own—yet.”

  “And you’ve lived here all your life?”

  So, she had a few questions, too. “Yes, ma’am. Born and raised.”

  “Then you probably know most of the people who live here. Right?”

  Now, that was an odd question. Suddenly he felt as if he was being interrogated.

  “Most of them.” His forehead wrinkled up as he tried to think. “There’re probably a few dozen cowpokes, who work for the Bar-C or one of the other spreads, that I only know by sight. But I suspect I know by name about ninety-five percent of everyone who lives in Chance County.”

  She looked intent, as if that was the most important information she’d ever heard. He was about to ask why she was interested when Macy came to the table with menus.

  He set aside his questions for the time being so he could make sure she was well fed. But he made up his mind that Summer Wheeler was not leaving this café until she gave him a few answers of her own.

  Chapter 2

  “You don’t have to buy me dinner, Mr. Chance,” Summer muttered in her most determined, independent voice.

  But Travis ignored her, lifting his chin at the café owner’s raised eyebrows, as if to say, “Pay no attention to what this woman says, and do what I tell you.” The arrogant man had already placed an order for Summer. Nicely, of course. Saying something to the effect that he knew better what the café served. As though
someone she had only known for a couple of hours could automatically judge her preferences.

  “Just put it on my bill, Macy,” he said with authority.

  A harried-looking Macy nodded silently and charged off toward the kitchen. It seemed the woman who owned the café was yet another person in this town who treated Mr. Travis Chance with deference. Summer began to look at him a little differently, too.

  If she hadn’t been so hungry all of a sudden, she would’ve insisted on paying for her own dinner. She wasn’t altogether crazy about this guy asserting his almighty power by assuming what she wanted and could afford. And besides, she still had enough cash left to buy a meal or two.

  There was a time when she would’ve let him have it for his assumptions. But that was before. Before the lost years, when she would rather have died than take another breath. Those endless days, months, years when she’d wished she could disappear from the face of the earth. When eating, sleeping—existing—were just too much to bear. She’d been close to a black abyss during that time, and continued breathing today only because she was too much of a coward to end it all.

  Outside the café’s windows, the storm raged and beat rain against the glass. Inside, she tried to still her tormented mind. A few months ago she’d finally arrived at a kind of truce with herself. She’d put one foot in front of the other and lived. Lived each day as it came.

  Today the chance of finding one of the men who’d sent her to the edge of hell was all that was keeping her alive. And she almost had him. Had actually seen him driving by.

  “Call me Travis,” he said, bringing her back to the moment. “Everyone does. There’re far too many Mr. Chances in this town. It gets confusing if we’re all called by the same name.”

  Without warning, he stood and stepped beside her chair, holding out his hands. “May I help you with your pack and jacket? It’s too warm in here to be saddled with a coat.”

  She squirmed out of her pack and let him help with her slightly damp, lightweight jacket. “Thanks, uh…Travis.”

  He set her pack on the empty seat at the table and placed both their coats on a coat tree in the corner. Within moments he was back at the table.

  He’d stood, walked and sat like a man in perfect balance, in tune with his surroundings. She envied him the ability to seem so at ease with himself. And the charge she got from just watching such a sexy man unnerved her.

  In order to defer any questions he might ask, she had one or two of her own ready. “So, you said ‘a lot of Chances.’ You have a big family?”

  A slight frown crossed his face and a deep sadness crept into his eyes. “There were six kids in my family. Five boys. I’m the second oldest. My littlest brother died when he was ten, and one of my other brothers is off God-only-knows-where right now. That still leaves three of us by the name of Chance living in the area.”

  He hadn’t mentioned anything about the sixth kid—a sister. And Summer’s instincts told her it would be best to stay away from too many touchy, personal questions before she knew more about his background.

  “Did I hear you tell Mrs. Murphy that your wife was out of town?” She knew that wasn’t what she’d overheard, but it was as good a way as any to find out if he was married. That couldn’t be a too touchy, too personal question, could it?

  He took a sip of water. “Not my wife. My housekeeper.”

  Well, damn, he’d wiggled out of answering. “Okay, I’ll ask outright. Are you married?”

  It was a more direct question than she’d asked anyone in years. But she’d been making quite a lot of changes to the dried-up, empty person she used to be. The question must have something to do with that nothing-to-lose attitude she’d developed recently.

  Another look, one she couldn’t name, flitted across his eyes and replaced the sadness. “I’m divorced. Raising a little girl on my own. A single dad.”

  Oh. Thank God he hadn’t said he was a widower. Hadn’t she just told herself not to ask potentially touchy questions? And then the first thing she’d done was walk right off that cliff. She was lucky.

  “Are you married?” His gaze narrowed on her for the moment.

  Okay, now, there was the real reason she should refrain from asking the personal questions. They always came back to bite her.

  “I’m a widow.” Her voice sounded surprisingly strong and clear. She must be getting better at answering that one.

  “I’m sorry.” He moved a hand as though starting to lay it across one of hers in comfort.

  Dreading the question that typically came next, she quickly put both her hands in her lap and tried to head him off. “No need. It’s been a long time.”

  “Really? You look too young to have been a widow for a long time.”

  Macy came back to the table with their plates right then, so Summer didn’t feel compelled to make a comment. But he was bound to want more answers eventually, and she steeled herself to give them. She also had to be more careful about her casual conversations. She was piling up a load of questions about this guy that she knew better than to ask.

  He dug quietly into his heaping plate of brisket, and she found herself staring while she slowly chewed her own meal. He ate with gusto and purpose. Fascinated by the restrained power she saw in his hands, in the whole of his body, she couldn’t help noticing more details about the man.

  The strong jaw. A long and very masculine neck, leading to wide shoulders, and on down to bunching biceps under his long-sleeved shirt. Pure power—held in check.

  His every movement seemed designed to be competent, grounded and proficient. A tingle of something in her gut that she hadn’t felt in a long, long time caught her off guard. She had to wonder if he made love with the same kind of proficiency and competence as he ate a meal.

  Uh, stop. Delete that thought. What was the matter with her?

  Still obsessed with the memories of two dark shadows coming out of her nightmares to destroy her whole world, she had no emotional energy left to start a serious relationship with anyone. She must put aside those kinds of thoughts until she could erase the incapacitating memories for good. And the only way to do it was to see that the last of those shadows received the justice he deserved.

  Or she would die trying. That’s the very reason she’d come here.

  “Enjoying the barbecue?” He’d looked up to find her staring.

  “Yes, very much.” She took another bite.

  She wanted this man to like her. Badly. A strong and sexy man, he also seemed kind and generous. Besides, she thought he might be persuaded to help her without really knowing all the reasons behind it. After all, he was a powerhouse in this town, and if she was going to stay here long enough to accomplish her mission and find her man, she would need him in her corner.

  Taking those thoughts a little further, she realized it sounded a lot like she would be deceiving him and using him. Such things really were not like her. It wasn’t who she was. Usually. Or maybe it wasn’t who she used to be.

  But desperate times called for desperate measures. She picked around her plate, thoughtfully and carefully, trying to decide how much to reveal.

  He pushed back his plate and asked the question she’d known was coming. “You look so young. Did your husband die in the service?”

  “No. Actually, it was a horrific tragedy, but it took place over five years ago. I went through a lot afterward, but I’ve gotten a handle on myself now. I’ve decided to completely change my life. That’s what I’m doing in Texas. Looking for a new place to settle.”

  Only a small white lie, but it seemed to do what she’d hoped. Sympathy jumped into his eyes as he picked up his glass for a drink of water. If she were lucky, he wouldn’t push her any further.

  “Then I’m glad you got lost in our neck of the woods. Otherwise, we might never have met. And I think we’re going to become friends.”

  Well, that’s what she wanted. Sort of. But she wasn’t sure what he’d meant about this “friends” thing. Did he mean friends wit
h no fringe benefits? Or did he mean friends with no secrets?

  One way or the other, she figured she was in big trouble.

  * * *

  Travis watched the young woman’s burning blue eyes closely. Something she’d told him seemed to be bothering her. He prided himself on being a good judge of people, and she was not telling him the whole truth.

  People did that all the time. Lied about little things. But whatever this was, it seemed to make her squirm.

  Without having known her for long, he came to the conclusion that here was a basically good woman. Vulnerable after a tragic life event, to be sure. And afraid of something—perhaps from her past. But good, deep down.

  He wasn’t sure why he felt so strongly about that. But his instincts were seldom wrong.

  At the front register, Macy finished ringing up the checks of the two cowpokes. After they left, she came to the table to ask if they wanted dessert.

  “I’d like a little of your homemade pecan pie, Mace.” He turned to Summer. “Have you left room to join me? Macy makes the best pie.”

  She nodded and looked up at Macy. “Just a small piece, please.”

  Macy pushed the hair off her face and sighed. “Sure thing. But I’m afraid I don’t have any vanilla ice cream for à la mode. I’m kinda backed up tonight. Is that okay?”

  Both he and Summer nodded, as Macy gathered their empty plates and headed off to the kitchen.

  “She certainly looks like she could use some help. Even tonight when there aren’t that many customers. Is it ever busy in here?”

  “You should see this place at breakfast. Lines out the door. But I’m guessing her hubby didn’t make it in to work tonight. He’s the cook, but he’s also a disabled veteran. Some days the pain in his back and leg gets to be too much for him.”

  Summer frowned and looked down at her hands. He expected her to say something else, but she remained silent.

  “A penny for your thoughts.” To his own ears the familiar sentence sounded like what it was, a terrible and ancient saying and one he never used, but it was all he could come up with.