West Texas Match (The West Texans Series #1)

by Ginger Chambers

  “Well, just get her out of here. Fast. Before there’s more trouble.”

  “We’re on our way, Rafe.”

  “And don’t let her come back before we’re done.”

  “I won’t, Rafe.”

  Rafe gave a short nod before he turned smartly and strode away, heading back toward the scales. Shannon watched him, struck mute.

  Gib urged her into the car and hurried around to his own seat to start the engine. As he quickly shifted into reverse, he murmured, “That was a really stupid thing to do. I don’t know why I didn’t think straighter.”

  “What, exactly, did you do?” Shannon asked. “Why can’t I—”

  “The boys have been out on roundup for a month. You’re probably the first woman they’ve seen in all that time. That can make things a bit...tough.”

  Shannon didn’t know Gib Parker any better than she did the other Parkers, but she instantly took his side in the conflict. “But you were only trying to be nice!”

  Gib shook his head. “Nope. Rafe’s right. It was the wrong thing to do.”

  The car shot forward and Shannon sighed.

  Hearing her, Gib said, “This isn’t Austin out here, or San Antone. Things are more...well, they’re different. More...elemental.” He instantly latched onto the word. “Yeah, that’s it. Elemental. Closer to nature.”

  “You mean, women should know their place.”

  Gib shifted uncomfortably, and Shannon instantly relented. He wasn’t the person she should be sparring with; in fact, she didn’t have the energy to spar with anyone. “It’s all right,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s not a problem. Thanks for trying. What little I saw was...quite interesting.”

  He grinned. “I always go out to watch the last day. People from off the ranch come, too. You saw those old guys sitting on the top rail? They’re old-timers. Some of ’em have been retired from cowboying for years, but they like to keep their hand in.”

  “It’s in the blood?”

  “So they say.”

  He turned the Cadillac into the long drive that circled the compound. On closer observation, the headquarters of the Parker Ranch looked even more like an oasis. At least ten large trees clustered in and around a grassy courtyard. Of the houses, all on the other side of the drive, four were low to the ground and built of adobe with red-tile roofs. The fifth house, the one given prominent position at the head of the compound, was built of stone, two stories, with a long balcony faced with intricately tooled wrought iron running across the upper level and repeated on the porch below. It, too, had a red-tile roof, and like the others boasted a well-tended bed of red and gold flowers.

  The car stopped in front of the stone house. An old yellow dog roused himself from his place on the porch to amble toward the car, wagging his ropelike tail.

  “We’re here!” Gib announced. Then before climbing out, he turned to Shannon and said, “I’d appreciate if you wouldn’t mention anything to Aunt Mae about what happened just now. She...well...” He shrugged.

  “Did something happen just now?” Shannon asked with mock innocence.

  Gib grinned his appreciation and gave a quick nod before opening the door. The yellow dog stretched up to put his front paws on Gib’s stomach, and Gib rubbed the animal’s large head as Shannon got out of the car. When the dog saw her, he dropped back to all fours and came slowly over to inspect her.

  A smile touched Shannon’s lips as the dog sniffed her extended hand, then raised warm brown eyes to hers, his tail wagging acceptance.

  “What’s his name?” she asked Gib, taking time to rub the dog’s ears.

  “Shep. He’s sixteen. Not much good for anything anymore. Used to be a damn fine cowdog.”

  “Is he yours?”

  Gib shook his head. “He’s Rafe’s. Raised him from a pup.”

  The front door opened and Mae Parker stood in the entryway. “I thought I heard a car,” she said. As before, her snowy white hair was caught high on her head in a tight knot, her brown skirt and cream-colored blouse casual but impeccable, her expression stern, in command. “Shep! Over here!” she called sharply to the dog, and he quickly obeyed, hurrying to sit at the spot where her finger pointed. Mae’s dark eyes moved over Shannon. “You look all tuckered out,” she declared.

  Shannon pushed a stray fall of lank hair away from her face. “I am. It’s been a long trip.”

  “Gib, get her things and take them to the guest room. Shannon, you come in and sit down. Marie will bring us something to drink, then you can rest.”

  Gib didn’t need a second urging. He hurried around to the back of the car to retrieve Shannon’s luggage, and he was right behind her as she went inside. He broke off to climb a long set of stairs.

  Black wrought iron was also repeated in the large lighting fixture hanging in the foyer and in the light sconces. Brightly colored rugs decorated both the dark gray stone of the floor and the pristine white walls.

  “In here,” Mae directed, motioning for Shannon to precede her into a room on the left. A huge fireplace dominated one wall, and long narrow windows looked out onto the porch and the courtyard beyond. Soft sheer curtains were caught away from the window-panes so as not to obstruct the view.

  “Sit down,” Mae said.

  Shannon had a choice of two overstuffed sofas or several straight-backed wooden chairs. She chose a sofa, while Mae settled in a chair.

  Shannon set her purse on the cushion beside her. It seemed odd to be carrying a purse again. So many months had passed since she’d had need of one.

  “I meant what I said before, you know,” Mae stated, drawing her attention. “No one here is going to make you do anything you don’t want to. I’m sure you’re tired of being poked and prodded. Doctors and nurses can be bungling fools sometimes. The best thing for an ailing person is rest, and they don’t let you do much of that when they’ve got hold of you. If you’re asleep, they wake you up—to give you something to make you sleep! Then they want to do this test or that test. Can’t help themselves, I suppose. They have to find some excuse to use all that fancy equipment!”

  Shannon gave a polite smile. If it hadn’t been for the talent and dedication of the doctors and nurses who’d treated her and the capabilities of some of their fancy equipment, she might not be alive and walking today.

  “I talked to the doctor in charge of your case,” Mae went on, surprising her. “Told him you were coming here. He actually had a little common sense—said it would be good for you to get away from everything. Is that why you changed your mind? You thought the same thing?”

  Mae was nothing if not direct. She didn’t feel the need to beat around the bush. Instead, she trampled it. Shannon decided to be equally direct. “Yes.”

  “Good.”

  A plump middle-aged woman with close-cropped curly brown hair came into the room carrying a tray. She gave Shannon a swift look as she set the tray down on the table closest to Mae. “Coffee,” she murmured, then started to leave.

  “What about those special cookies?” Mae snapped, stopping her. There were a number of cookies arranged on a plate, but obviously not the ones Mae wanted.

  “We’re all out,” the woman answered, her blunt features implacable.

  “We had a half-dozen boxes last time I looked!”

  “Maybe you’d better ask around.”

  “Who?”

  “I’m not naming names.”

  Mae’s lips tightened. “I think I have a good idea.” She nodded dismissal to the woman and poured coffee into a pair of delicately patterned china cups.

  Shannon had just accepted her cup and saucer when Gib entered the room, his arm thrown casually around the shoulders of a young woman.

  “Aunt Mae, I thought I’d bring Jodie in to meet Shannon,” Gib said. “Shannon, this is my daughter. Jodie, Shannon Bradley.”

  Jodie looked nothing like Gib or Mae. She was tall but delicately made, with gamine features and an abundance of coppery red hair. Her age was difficult to guess. She
could have been fifteen or twenty.

  “Welcome to the Parker Ranch,” the girl said, extending her hand.

  Shannon put down her cup and saucer and reached out to accept the greeting. The girl’s quick grip was warm and strong. She met Shannon’s gaze with confidence. Until Mae cleared her throat. Then a shutter seemed to close over the girl’s features.

  “I don’t suppose you or your father know anything about the cookies that’ve gone missing,” Mae said.

  “What cookies, Aunt Mae?” Jodie said.

  “Cookies?” Gib echoed.

  “Never mind for now,” Mae said. “We’ll talk about it later. Would either of you like coffee? I’m sure Marie—”

  “No, thank you, Aunt Mae,” Jodie interrupted her.

  “None for me, either,” Gib answered. “I think I’ll head back down to the pens. See how the boys are gettin’ on.”

  “Back?” Mae pounced on the slip.

  Gib shrugged uneasily. “Yeah...to the pens. Out to the pens. To see how Rafe and the boys are doin’.”

  Jodie plopped gracefully onto the couch across from Shannon. “You know you’re not much help out there, Daddy.”

  “I still like to watch.”

  “Get in the way’s more like it,” Mae grumbled, frowning.

  “I’ll come along to keep you out of trouble,” Jodie offered.

  Mae snorted. “We all know what you want to do, Missy. And it doesn’t have a darned thing to do with keeping your daddy out of trouble. Getting yourself into it is more like it.”

  “You used to go down there all the time at roundup,” Jodie protested.

  Mae sat forward in her chair, her back ramrod straight. “There’s a darned sight difference between you and me, young lady.”

  “And you used to do it when you were young, too. You told me. You told me how you used to help on roundups—actually went out and brought in the cattle.”

  “But I didn’t have my eye on any young cowboy,” Mae retorted. “And I had my daddy and my brother to watch out for me.”

  “I wasn’t planning to go without Daddy.”

  “You won’t go at all,” Mae ordered with a don’t-say-another-word finality.

  The girl folded her arms and retreated into an angry silence.

  Gib sent Shannon an apologetic look, one that also checked to see if she was going to keep her earlier promise. He eased toward the door. “Well, I’ll...ah...leave you all to it,” he said, and quickly made his exit.

  Mae, too, looked at Shannon, then at Jodie, her gaze sharpening on the latter. “You know your daddy better than that,” she scolded. “You know he’d forget all about you in ten seconds flat. Then all hell would break loose down there.” She turned back to Shannon. “I have to apologize for this. We’re not normally so rude to our guests.”

  “Yes, we are,” Jodie contradicted.

  Mae ignored her. “Would you like a cookie?” she asked Shannon, offering the plate.

  Shannon shook her head. She’d moved past simply being tired. Her body was now aching with exhaustion, and her head had started to throb. She took a polite sip or two of her coffee before pushing it away. “I’m sorry,” she said, “but if you wouldn’t mind...”

  “Of course,” Mae responded instantly. “Jodie, take Shannon up to her room. You know which one.” As the girl uncoiled from the sofa, Mae continued speaking to Shannon. “You rest as long as you like. We’re very informal here. Tomorrow I’ve made arrangements for you to meet everyone at a special dinner, but other than that your time is your own. The kitchen’s through there.” She motioned at a doorway. “Marie will be glad to fix something for you whenever you’re hungry, or you can eat with me when I eat. Whichever—it doesn’t matter. Most important, we just want you to feel at home.”

  “Thank you,” Shannon said quietly.

  Shannon felt Jodie’s eyes linger on her, and some of the tension she’d experienced at the rehabilitation center returned. Mae had undoubtedly told everyone here her story. Would they, too, overcompensate? For a second Shannon panicked. Had she made a terrible mistake in cutting herself off from family and friends only to continue as the unwilling recipient of pity?

  She stood up, and as it now tended to do whenever she overextended herself physically, her left leg gave way, and she had to make a quick grab for the couch.

  Mae uttered a surprised cry and Jodie sprang to her feet, automatically reaching out to offer assistance.

  “It’s all right,” Shannon said tersely, evading the girl’s hand. “I’ll be fine. Just let me…” She took another step, willing her leg to work properly. “There,” she said once she’d succeeded. “Everything’s back to normal. See? I’m just fine.”

  Jodie’s hand dropped back to her side and Mae’s stern features lost some of their concern.

  “I won’t be a bother,” Shannon promised tightly.

  “We never expected you would be,” Mae said with quiet assurance.

  Still, Shannon could feel the tension in the room. Was it them? Was it her? She couldn’t be sure of the source. With unconscious longing she glanced in the direction of the stairs.

  Mae’s response was to motion at Jodie. Jodie moved past Shannon, heading for the stairs. Before following her, though, Shannon made herself flash Mae a look of thanks.

  The spacious room Jodie led her to was at the front of the house and continued the Spanish style of decor—heavy dark wood furniture, stark white walls, brightly colored ornamentation on the floors and walls. The bed boasted an intricately carved headboard and posts that were almost as high as Shannon’s head. It was covered by a plump white eyelet comforter with matching ruffled pillow shams. A single glass-paneled door opened directly onto the balcony. Jodie opened it and stepped outside. Shannon joined her.

  “You have a great view from here,” the girl said. “The mountains are beautiful when the sun pops over them in the morning. I can see them from my room, too. Daddy and I live over there.” She pointed out the second house on the left. “Rafe lives in the first house,” she added.

  “I thought you lived here,” Shannon said.

  “No, only Aunt Mae lives here. Her and Marie and Marie’s husband, Axel. Axel's been out with Rafe and the others gathering cattle. He’s the camp cook on all our roundups. Rafe says he’s worth his weight in gold. Other ranchers envy us having such a good cook on regular call. Rafe says he usually doesn’t have to do more than say Axel’s name and any extra hands we need fight for the chance to sign on. He’s that good. And because of our horses, too,” she added. “We have good horses. The men like ’em.”

  Jodie tilted her head as she examined Shannon with unabashed curiosity. “Daddy took you to the pens, didn’t he?” she guessed after a long moment.

  Shannon didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t expected to be questioned so quickly or from this source. “Yes,” she admitted, “but he doesn’t want your great-aunt to know.”

  Jodie chuckled. “No, I’m sure he doesn’t.”

  “He asked me not to tell.”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t pass it on. But I don’t see what the big deal is. So we’re women. So what?”

  Shannon shrugged and stepped back into the room. Her head was pounding now, and if she didn’t lie down soon she wasn’t going to have a choice in the matter.

  Jodie followed her inside. Motioning to a door off to one side of the room, she said, “The bathroom’s through there. You have your own. Aunt Mae’s set of rooms is in the back. So’s Marie and Axel’s, only theirs is downstairs. You can have all the privacy you want.”

  “Thank you.”

  Once again Jodie tilted her head as she considered something. “When you feel better, do you think we could talk? Aunt Mae gave us all strict instructions not to bother you, but talking isn’t a bother, is it? I mean, it wouldn’t make you feel bad, would it?”

  “Not at all,” Shannon said. “In a day or two. Right now I just—”

  “Oh, I didn’t mean right now!” Jodie exclaimed. “I
can see that you’re...” The unspoken words hung in the air.

  “In a couple of days,” Shannon promised.

  Jodie flashed her a smile and with a shy little wave left the room.

  Shannon visibly drooped as she thought about all that had occurred over the past thirty-six hours. Of her own accord she was in a strange house, in a strange place, among people she didn’t know, all because she’d decided that the people who cared for her cared too much.

  It might have been funny if it wasn’t so tragic.

  She made herself move. She visited the bathroom, then carefully turned down the comforter and removed the shammed pillows. The pillows beneath were soft and gently cradled her head when she sank onto the bed.

  Bottled-up tears made her cough as she tried to force her aching muscles to relax so that she could sleep. Yet sleep refused to come, and she lay for a long time staring at the ceiling and listening to the muted sounds of the last day of roundup that floated on the breeze stealing through the open balcony door.

  Chapter Three

  Shannon awoke to the sounds of an argument. At first she couldn’t place where she was, much less the identity of the parties involved. Then clarity returned and she recognized one of the voices as belonging to Mae Parker and the other to the man she’d met only briefly earlier in the day—Rafe Parker. They were standing on the porch, just beneath the balcony off Shannon’s room. With the door ajar it was easy for her to hear every word.

  “She’s a Bradley! Nathan Bradley’s daughter! Isn’t that enough?” Rafe Parker said hotly.

  “Exactly!” Mae retorted.

  “You don’t owe him anything.”

  “Just common decency.”

  “There’s more to it than that! Come on, Aunt Mae. Tell the truth.”

  “I’ve asked her here because I want her here.”

  “Why?” The question cracked like a pistol shot.

  “To help write that family history you keep going on at me about.”

  There was a disbelieving laugh. “Yeah, right. I line up Michael Donner. I know you respect the book he did on the Clearys. He comes all this way and you won’t even talk to him. Now you expect me to believe you’re going to work with this...this amateur?”