Lonestar Secrets

by Colleen Coble

  Rick's voice vibrated with worry. "Only about half an hour. I told her not to stay out long. I'm sure she'll be back soon. I thought you'd keep the girls, so we're already on our way."

  Shannon would do just about anything for an endangered horse, and Jack didn't trust her to turn back if she didn't find it. "I'll go out looking for her. What direction did she head?"

  "West from my ranch on horseback. We're outside now."

  "I'll come out to get the girls." Jack punched off the phone and beckoned to Enrica as he left the office. "The girls need to stay here," he called over his shoulder as she hurried after him. "And I need to go look for Miss Shannon."

  By the time he reached the porch, Rick had brought Betsy and Kylie to the steps. The sky was an angry brown and it was hard to see past the swirling sand. The girls ran up the steps to him, and he was struck again by how much the girls looked alike. A wave of love washed over him, surprising him with its strength. He'd been worried about being able to care for her as much as he did Faith. But clearly he had plenty of love to give.

  To their mother too? He was less certain of that.

  He squatted by the girls. "Faith is in the kitchen. Enrica is getting ready to bake cookies with you all," he told them. He didn't mention the cookies would be wheat-free and made with pure maple syrup instead of sugar. Somehow Enrica made them tasty that way.

  The girls squealed and ran past him into the house. "Get going," he told Rick. "Let me know how it goes."

  Rick nodded and ran toward the truck. He called back to Jack, "It's about two weeks early though. Allie thinks it's false labor, but I want her checked."

  Jack watched him jump back into the truck and accelerate away. He pulled the collar of his denim shirt up around his neck and settled his cowboy hat a little more snugly onto his head, then headed to his truck. The sand stung every exposed patch of skin, and the grit in his eyes made it hard to see. He reached the vehicle and had second thoughts. Shannon was most likely headed this way on horseback. He'd be better off to try to meet her across the desert. He'd take his fourwheeler. He should find her before the storm got bad enough to foul his engine. If she was hurt, he could get her back faster too.

  Just to make sure she hadn't come back, he detoured into the house to call the Bluebird. The phone would ring into the barn and the bunkhouse if no one in the house picked up. When he finally reached the youth worker in the bunkhouse and found out Shannon still hadn't returned, he jogged to the barn and fired up his four-wheeler, then rolled out across the yard to the desert.

  Away from the buildings, the sandstorm was much worse. He could barely see, then remembered a helmet with a shield in the compartment behind him. He stopped and dug out the helmet. The shield helped, and he was able to point the four-wheeler in the right direction. The storm began to intensify, but he managed to keep going.

  The brown cloud transformed familiar terrain into a moonscape of strange shapes and impressions, but he'd been out in many a sandstorm over the years. Shannon likely had, too, but not for quite a few years. She might have forgotten any survival skills she once knew, and he pressed his foot down harder on the accelerator.

  The sandstorm made him hit several big rocks in the dirt he would have otherwise missed, sending the vehicle airborne twice. He reached the shelter of a big rock that blunted the fury of the wind and sand. Fishing out his cell phone, he saw he had one bar and a text message. It was from Rick. All was well with Allie and he was going to get the girls. No word from Shannon.

  Jack texted back that he hadn't found Shannon, but that Rick shouldn't worry if they were caught out in it. He would find shelter somewhere for them both. Brave words, but his arms were sore from hanging on to the grips on the four-wheeler. He didn't want to entertain the thought that he might not find her.

  A sip from his canteen washed the grit from his throat. He started the bike again and headed out into the storm. Bluebird Ranch property was just ahead. He slowed the vehicle and peered through the intensifying dust. The four-wheeler slowed more than he intended, and he realized he had the four-wheeler gunned as much as he could. The sand must be fouling the engine. He had barely reached Bluebird Ranch property when the engine began to cough and sputter.

  It died before Jack could form a backup plan. He sat on the vehicle seat and thought about his options. Giving up was not one of them. His skin burned from the assault of the storm. The thought of Shannon out in these conditions increased his sense of urgency, but he had no idea where to look. Cell phones wouldn't work in this morass of sand. He and Shannon were isolated.

  He tried to think of any shelter she might find out here. There was an old shack by the abandoned copper mine north of his location. It would be a long, painful walk though. He glanced at his vehicle and knew trying to restart it would be a waste of time. There was no help for it but to start hiking. He pulled out a handkerchief and tied it around his nose and mouth. He couldn't make out the outcroppings that signaled the location of the shack, but he knew this area well and recognized other rocks as he jogged past them. The ground sloped upward, and he saw a clear landmark: the large grouping of prickly pear cactus close to the shack.

  Picking up his step, he glimpsed the outline of the building. The weathered wood wouldn't keep out all the sand, but it would help. As he neared, a short burst of barks was quickly hushed by a woman's voice. He stepped onto the rickety stoop. The door was off its hinges, and the front windows were cracked with missing panes.

  "Shannon?" he called.

  Her blonde head bobbed up in the window. "Jack," she said, her voice wobbling with relief. "How did you find me?"

  He stepped through the doorway into a space where the dust still swirled in the air, but the volume was much reduced.

  Moses came to greet him and pressed his cold nose against Jack's hand. Jack rubbed his ears. "You okay?"

  Her appearance answered his question. Her hair was a golden tangle from the wind, and the stinging sand had left her skin reddened. It might be mistaken for a sunburn. Her shirt and jeans held a brownish tinge from the sand embedded in the cloth. In the back corner of the building he saw two horses.

  She nodded toward the horses. "I'm fine, but Bluebird has an injured fetlock. I knew we'd never make it home, so I brought the horses here. I tried to call Rick, but the storm was too bad to get through."

  He glanced around the one-room shack. It held a couple of brokendown stools, some trash, and a small iron kettle upside-down in the corner. Several inches of sand covered the scarred wooden floorboards. Drifts of sand piled against the walls and in the corners.

  His gaze reverted to Shannon, and he tugged his kerchief from his face. "You realize this storm won't blow itself out until morning. We'll be stuck here all night."

  "I know. You didn't have to come looking for me. I know how to take care of myself."

  Even though her chin was tipped up, he had clearly read the relief in her face when she saw him. "Rick was worried, and he had to take Allie to the clinic. She was having contractions."

  She began to pace. "The baby isn't due yet!"

  So like her to be worried about other people. A wave of some kind of emotion rose in a mist as thick as the sand, but Jack refused to examine it. "Allie thought it was false labor, but Rick wanted to make sure. Allie's fine and they're back home now."

  "Where are the girls?"

  "They were at my house with Enrica. Rick and Allie have them by now again.

  She smiled then. "Thank you."

  Did nothing ever frighten her? Blair had been strong, too, but Shannon's was a different kind of strength, one of quiet determination. He was beginning to realize he liked a strong woman.

  He walked farther into the room. "Seeing Kylie again, I was blown away at how much alike she and Faith are. It's amazing." He shoved his hands in his pockets and glanced around the dirty cabin. "It's going to be pretty uncomfortable here tonight."

  She gestured to the animals. "I was about to unsaddle the horses. We can use their
blankets and the saddles will make a pillow."

  She really did have it together. This woman didn't need rescuing. The deflation that rippled through him caught him off guard. He liked to be needed, and Shannon was an island unto herself. The future with her was as murky as the sand-filled air.

  THE WIND HOWLED THROUGH THE HOLES IN THE SHACK AND ROARED through the broken window panes. Night began to fall, and Shannon set to work making the space as comfortable as she could.

  When she started to unsaddle the horses, Jack sprang forward to help her. He pulled a saddle from Bluebird and carried it to the corner with the fewest number of holes in the wall, then went back for Cupcake's saddle.

  The sand coated Shannon's throat and she longed to escape its choking influence. "I wish we had some way to fill the holes in the walls and the windows."

  "I've got an idea," he said. He grabbed the horse blanket and took it to the corner. He dragged the broken chairs over next, then draped them over the chair backs, forming a small shelter. "Bring me the other blanket," he called above the howl of the wind.

  Shannon pulled the blanket from the horse's back and hurried to the corner with it. "What are you doing?"

  "You'll see." Jack took it and draped it over one side of his little tent. "Now only one side is open. It won't keep out all the dust, but we'll be safe from most of it. Climb in."

  Shannon ducked under the rough wool throw. In the dim shelter, there was hardly any sand in the air, and if Jack weren't here, she might have taken a moment to spit out the gritty taste in her mouth.

  She felt rather than saw him slide into the shelter with her. If she hadn't been so desperate to get out of the sand, she might have stopped to think what it would be like to be trapped in a small space with him. His male scent filled her nostrils instead of the earthy smell of sand. A pleasant change if she hadn't been so fearful of her own reaction to him.

  She huddled against the wall so she didn't brush him inadvertently.

  "It's better in here," he said.

  She managed enough moisture to wet her cracked lips. "Smart of you to think of it. I wish we had water. I hurried off too fast to think of it. A fatal error in this land."

  "Hang on." His bulk moved away and the sound of him shuffling through something was muffled by the blankets. His presence filled the tiny space again. "Here you go."

  A cool canteen touched her hand. Shannon unscrewed the lid and took a sip of the sweetest water she'd ever swallowed. She would have taken another sip, but they might need to conserve it. She pressed it back into his hand. "You'd better have some too." She heard him unscrew the cap and take a swig.

  He shuffled around next to her, and his voice was closer to the floor when it came. "We might as well try to get some sleep."

  Cautiously Shannon stretched out and laid her head on the saddle. The good aroma of horse swept away the dusty odor in her nose. Jack's breathing was slow and even. Could he be asleep already? Shannon could imagine Rick and Allie's distress if they knew she wasn't home. Luckily, the girls probably didn't know anything was amiss. Being together would be enough of a treat. Kylie wouldn't be worrying about her mother. She became aware she was humming "It Is Well with My Soul" under her breath.

  Jack's voice interrupted the howling of the wind. "We could talk for a while if you can't sleep."

  "How did you know I wasn't asleep?"

  "The little sounds you were making. And you were humming under your breath. Do you do that often?"

  "Whenever I'm nervous. Sorry if I disturbed you."

  "I wasn't asleep."

  "What do you want to talk about?" Shannon found herself wanting to keep the conversation going. Somehow it was easier to talk in the dark. She didn't have to try to judge his expressions. It might be her imagination, but she thought his tone was softer. The intimacy of their situation stripped away the guardedness they usually held between them.

  When he spoke, his voice was soft. "We're going to be married in four days, and I don't know much about you. What are your dreams, Shannon? What do you want to accomplish with your life?"

  What did she want? Once upon a time, she'd wanted to become an expert whom the news media consulted about animals. She wanted a name that would make people back here whisper with astonishment. All that had been stripped away the moment she learned she had MS, and all that remained was the desire to be well enough to raise her daughter, to get through each day and make a home Kylie would remember with fondness. But she couldn't tell him all that. Not yet.

  "Could I have another sip of water?" she asked while she tried to think how to answer his question.

  He handed over the canteen, and she took a tiny sip. The cool liquid was like heaven.

  "I take it you don't want to answer me?" His voice was gently teasing.

  "I was just trying to think about what I want. You have to admit our lives took a surprising detour in the past week or so. You'd say an unwelcome one, but it was an exciting one for me to find out my daughter is still alive. So I want the girls to have a stable, loving home. To grow up well adjusted and happy."

  "I'm getting used to the idea that I'll have two little Faiths around."

  "And a wife. I'm sure that idea isn't growing on you."

  "I've worried about Faith, growing up without a mother. She needs you.

  And you don't, she thought. Tears sprang to her eyes, but she told herself it was a reaction against the grit in them. Her throat thickened, but she swallowed and forced a light tone to her voice. "How about you? What do you want? Politics like your dad?"

  "The good Lord preserve me from such a fate," he said. "I love this land, the stark beauty of it. The Rio Grande in full flood, the hawk on the wing. The yip of the coyotes at night. I want to live a life of integrity and to teach my daughter daughters to do the same. To be a good steward of the land God's given me. To raise great horses that enrich other people's lives as well as my own. I don't know, maybe I sound a little pompous. I don't voice this stuff much. I just want my life to count for something good."

  Shannon couldn't answer him. He'd changed from the self-absorbed young man she remembered from school. It would be way too easy to fall in love with him, and she didn't trust him. Not yet. Besides, he'd been crazy about Blair, and with good reason. She'd always treated Shannon decently even when others hadn't. Shannon could never hold a candle to someone like Blair.

  His breathing slowed, and she knew he was asleep. Tomorrow they'd ride out of here and she'd be able to keep him at a safe distance again.

  When the sunlight filtered through their "tent," it didn't seem she'd slept a wink, but she must have, because she lay curled against Jack with her head on his shoulder. And she never would have gone there in her right mind. She rolled away, and he murmured something in his sleep. She didn't want to know what it was, and luckily, she heard Rick's shout outside the shack door followed by Moses' excited bark.

  "Here, we're here!" She scrambled over Jack's inert frame and burst out of the door and into the sunshine where the cold light of day assured her Jack could never come to care for her.

  12

  WEDNESDAY EVENING, SHANNON STARED AT THE CELL PHONE IN HER HAND. Not knowing what had happened to Mary Beth was weighing on her, and she couldn't get the image of that mass of her friend's hair out of her mind.

  Did she dare call and demand to speak to Mary Beth?

  What did she have to lose? Right now she had no idea if her friend was dead or alive. Shannon feared the answer wasn't one she wanted to hear, but she had to know. She called up Mary Beth's cell phone number and listened to it ring. Steeling herself for that man's voice, she waited.

  Shannon's heart leaped at the sound of Mary Beth's voice, then she realized she'd been dumped into voice mail. She nearly hung up but didn't. "This is Shannon Astor. I need to know that Mary Beth is okay before I do anything else." She shut the phone and put it away.

  Before I do anything else. Like she were able to do anything other than this walk in the dark. If only she h
ad some idea of what money was in question. The man would have checked out Mary Beth's bank account, and Shannon couldn't do it anyway, because she didn't have the account number. All she could do was wait.

  Her cell phone played its tune, and she froze. She grabbed it and glanced at the display, then saw Mary Beth's number. That was fast. For a moment she wanted to ignore the urgent ring. Praying for courage and the right words, she flipped it open. "Mary Beth?"

  "Wrong, little lady. You should know what happened to your friend when you wouldn't play ball. Bye-bye, Mary Beth."

  "I don't think so," she said, wondering at her boldness. "If she's dead, your hopes of finding the money are gone."

  "We still have you."

  "I want to talk to Mary Beth," Shannon said, hanging on to the phone with a death grip. "If I don't talk to her, you don't get anything" What was that noise in the background? It grew louder and she realized it was a train.

  His voice came in a low growl above the train's rumble. "Give me the money, and you can talk to her then."

  "We're at a standstill, then. I'm not making a move until I know she's okay." She waited for his response, but all she got was a click. He'd hung up on her. What did that say about Mary Beth's situation? Shannon prayed it didn't mean her friend was dead.

  She called the Rangers again, but that was a waste of time when she had nothing to give them but the sound of a train. They made note of the call and she put her phone away. They hadn't found any trace of Mary Beth. If this man didn't get what he wanted by using Mary Beth, would he move on to Shannon's daughters? The man had said he wouldn't touch the children, but she sensed desperation in his voice, and she had no idea what he would do next.

  And the man's frustration was likely growing at his inability to get her to talk. She pressed her fingers to her eyes. If only she knew where to look for that money.