Heart of Texas Vol. 2

by Debbie Macomber

  “Jane, I hate to disillusion you,” Dovie said kindly, “but I don’t even know if the old town is still standing.”

  “Could you give me directions?”

  “If I knew where it was, possibly, but there are no paved roads. It’s some where up in the hills. You need to remember this is a real ghost town.”

  “But what happened? Why did everyone leave?” Jane’s mind filled with questions.

  Dovie looked as though she regretted bringing up the subject. “I don’t have a clue. No one does. At one time I believe the town was quite prosperous—a fast-growing community. My father said he’d even heard that the railroad was scheduled to lay track there, but all of that changed over night.”

  “Over night?” The details were becoming more and more intriguing. “Something drastic must have happened.”

  “A natural catastrophe, perhaps,” Dovie suggested. “No one knows.”

  “That doesn’t make sense,” Jane said, thinking out loud. “Tornado, fire, flood—anything like that would have destroyed the whole town. There’d be nothing left. Anyway, why wouldn’t they rebuild if that happened?”

  “I don’t know,” Dovie murmured. “My father mentioned it twice in the years I was growing up. As I recall, he said everyone packed up and moved—no one knows why. They abandoned almost everything.”

  “Then there’s a possibility the entire town’s intact.”

  “Yes…I suppose there is,” Dovie said.

  “Do you know people who’ve actually been there?”

  She took her time answering. “A few.”

  “Who?”

  Dovie was about to speak when the bell above the front door rang, and Sheriff Frank Hennessey walked into the store.

  It seemed to Jane that Dovie went pale. “Jane,” she whispered, getting to her feet, “don’t leave me.” Jane nodded.

  “Hello, Sheriff,” Dovie said. Her tone lacked its usual warmth.

  “Dovie.”

  The sheriff glanced in Jane’s direction, and his look made it clear he wished she wasn’t there. In any other circumstances Jane would have made her excuses and left, but Dovie had plainly asked her to stay. However uncomfortable she was, Jane felt obliged to honor her friend’s request.

  “What can I do for you, Sheriff?” Dovie asked.

  Frank Hennessey glanced at Jane again. “Dovie, in the name of heaven, this has got to end,” he said in a low urgent voice. “We’re both miserable.”

  “We’ve already been through this a thousand times. Nothing’s going to change.”

  The sheriff’s mouth thinned. “I love you,” he whispered.

  “So you say.” Dovie began to move about the shop, rearranging things here and there. Frank Hennessey trailed behind her, looking lost and utterly wretched.

  When his pleading didn’t work, the sheriff tried a different tactic. “What’s this I heard about you traveling?” he demanded as though he had every right to know.

  “It’s time I saw something of the world.”

  “A singles’ cruise, Dovie?” His disapproval was evident.

  Dovie sighed expressively. “Who told you?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “As a matter of fact it does because I want to be sure that whoever it was has nothing more to report.”

  “You didn’t want me to know?” The sheriff’s tone had gone from irritated to hurt.

  “What I choose to do with my life from here on out, Frank Hennessey, is my concern, and only mine.”

  He stiffened. “You don’t mean that.”

  “Yes, Frank, I do.” Dovie had completed one full circle of the shop. She stopped in front of the table where she and Jane had been drinking tea. “You remember Dr. Dickinson, don’t you?”

  The sheriff gave Jane little more than a perfunctory nod.

  “Good to see you again, Sheriff Hennessey,” Jane said, but she doubted he’d even heard.

  His gaze remained on Dovie. “This has gone on long enough,” he said, and he no longer seemed to care whether or not Jane was privy to their conversation. “I’m crazy about you. It’s been damn near three weeks, and we’re no closer to settling this than we were then. I need you, Dovie! It isn’t like you to be unreasonable. I don’t know who put this craziness in your head, but it’s got to end, for both our sakes. Can’t we resolve this?”

  “Resolve this?” Dovie repeated as if she found the statement amusing. “What you mean is, can’t I give in to you. It’s not going to happen, Frank. You’ve made your decision and I’ve made mine, and that’s all there is to it.”

  “Damn it, Dovie, would you listen to reason?”

  “There’s nothing more to discuss,” Dovie said, not quite disguising the sadness in her tone. “I think it’d be best if you left.”

  Frank stared at Dovie in disbelief. Then, in an act of pure frustration, he slapped his hat against his thigh and stormed out of the shop, leaving the display windows shaking.

  Dovie sank into the chair and Jane noticed that her hands were shaking. “I’m sorry to subject you to that, Jane,” she said, her voice as shaky as her hands.

  “Are you all right?” Jane asked, truly concerned.

  “No,” Dovie admitted, “but I will be in time.”

  “Are you really going away?”

  “Yes. I’ve booked a three-day cruise, but not a singles’ one. Mary Patterson suggested that, but I’m not interested in getting involved again—at least not this soon.”

  “You love Frank, don’t you?” Jane probed gently.

  “Yes, fool that I am. I do. But he’s stubborn, and unfortunately so am I.” She didn’t elaborate, but Jane had a pretty clear picture of the problem. Dovie wanted a ring on her finger, and Sheriff Hennessey wasn’t about to relinquish his freedom. From the looks of it, they were at an impasse.

  “You’ll enjoy the cruise,” Jane said, wanting to encourage her friend in the same kindly way Dovie had encouraged her. “And it’ll do you a world of good to get away for a while.”

  “I’m sure you’re right.” Dovie made an unsuccessful attempt at a smile. “I talked Mary and Phil Patterson into coming along with me, and by golly, we’re going to have the time of our lives.”

  She said this, Jane noted, as though the person she most needed to convince was herself.

  IT CAME AS A SURPRISE to Cal to realize he was actually looking forward to seeing Jane Dickinson again. By Friday afternoon he was ready to teach that California gal everything she cared to know about the joys of riding.

  From his brother Cal learned that Ellie and Jane had been shopping and Jane had purchased an entire Western outfit, complete with hat and cowboy boots.

  They’d talked briefly by phone earlier in the week, and Cal had suggested Jane come to the ranch at five o’clock, since the days were growing shorter now.

  Accustomed to women being late, Cal didn’t actually expect her to show up on time. He was pleasantly surprised when her car turned into the yard at five minutes to five.

  She parked, then opened the car door and gingerly stepped out. Her clothes were so new they practically squeaked.

  “This really is very kind of you,” she said, smiling.

  Cal walked all the way around her, amazed by the trans formation a few clothes could make. She looked great. Terrific. If he didn’t know better, he’d have assumed she’d been born and raised in the great state of Texas. At least, until she opened her mouth, and then all doubt was removed. She didn’t sound anything like a Texan—but he didn’t feel he should hold that against her.

  “What do you think?” she asked, holding her arms out at her sides.

  “Your Wranglers seem a little stiff, but other than that, not bad. Not bad indeed!”

  “Did you check out my bumper sticker?” she asked.

  He hadn’t, so he turned to look—and roared with laughter. Sure enough, she’d gotten a sticker. It read: Texas Crude.

  “Not only that, I’m listening to Reba, Clint, John Berry and Alabama.”


  Cal loved it. “Wonderful.”

  She laughed and he discovered that he liked the sound of it. Soon he was chuck ling himself, and for no damn reason that he could think of. Hmm. Something like this could ruin his reputation as a curmudgeon.

  “You ready?” he asked.

  “Ready as I’ll ever be,” she said, then exhaled a deep sigh.

  Cal led the way. He’d already chosen Atta Girl for her and brought the horse out of the paddock. Atta Girl was a gentle chestnut mare who’d delivered six foals over the past ten years. Cal trusted her to treat the green horn with patience.

  “This is Atta Girl,” he said, rubbing his hand down the mare’s neck.

  Jane stood directly in front of the animal. “Pleased to meet you,” she said with the same seriousness she might have used to address the bank manager.

  “She isn’t going to shake your hand,” Cal said, struggling not to smile.

  Jane gave him a glance that said she didn’t find him all that funny, but he noticed she had a hard time containing her amusement, too. It’d been a long time since anyone had affected him this way.

  “I thought we’d start with you learning how to saddle her,” he said. Once she was familiar with the basics, he’d let her mount.

  Jane nibbled her lower lip. “Before I put a saddle on her back, I thought maybe Atta Girl and I should talk this over.”

  He assumed she was joking, but it soon became obvious she wasn’t. Apparently she intended to have some polite conversation with Atta Girl first.

  “I thought you might like to get a good look at me,” Jane said, just as if she were talking to a person. “It must be frustrating to carry someone around without being able to see who it is.”

  Cal tried not to roll his eyes, but didn’t succeed. At this rate it’d take a month of Sundays to get her on Atta Girl’s back.

  “She can’t really see you, anyway,” Cal felt honor bound to tell Jane.

  “Do you mean to say you gave me a blind horse?”

  He shook his head. “Horses are notorious for having bad eyesight. You notice how far apart her eyes are? How they’re on either side of her face?”

  Jane looked at one side of Atta Girl’s face and then the other.

  “Because of that, horses have what you might call a broad view of things, and although they can tell when there’s something approaching, what they generally see are shadowy figures.”

  “Oh,” Jane said and tentatively touched the mare’s soft muzzle. “In that case, Atta Girl, you need carrots. Lots and lots of carrots. I’ll bring you some on my next visit.”

  “While we’re at it,” Cal said, “it’s probably not a good idea to approach a horse from the rear. It’s an ugly way to die.”

  “How reassuring,” Jane muttered.

  “Not to worry, you’re safe with Atta Girl.”

  “At least her name isn’t something like Killer.”

  “That was her sire’s name,” Cal teased.

  Jane placed her hands on her hips. “Are you trying to scare me?”

  “Would I do something like that?” he inquired, the picture of innocence. While he had her attention, he told her a number of other facts she should know. Riding information, as well as bits and pieces of horse lore. She listened with complete concentration. Not until she’d grown accustomed to riding would she really experience the thrill of it. Nothing in life could compare with galloping through a field of wild flowers on a warm spring day with the wind in your face.

  “What kind of relationship do you have with your horse?” she asked. “Do you think of him the way Roy Rogers thought of Trigger?”

  “Probably not.” He hoped he wasn’t shattering any illusions. “Thunder’s a loyal partner, but he’s not my best friend. The tricks he knows aren’t going to end up on any television show, but he cuts cattle better than any pony I’ve ever ridden.” Cal paused, wondering whether to add the next part. “Also, I’m not having him stuffed when he eventually goes.”

  Jane looked startled, but recovered quickly. She asked a number of intelligent questions, which he answered to the best of his ability.

  “You ready to saddle her up?” he asked.

  Jane drew a deep breath and nodded.

  Having been around horses his entire life, Cal had no fear of them. Respect, yes, but not fear. Jane was intimidated; following his example, though, she refused to show it. Nor would she allow her intimidation to stop her from getting on with the lesson.

  Cal brought out the brushes, a blanket, the saddle and tack. He taught her by demonstrating and then letting her do it herself. Atta Girl was everything he’d expected. To his amusement Jane stopped what she was doing several times, walked around to the horse’s head and spoke to her. Anyone might have thought they were actually communicating.

  “You’re sure this isn’t too much trouble for you?” she asked Atta Girl next.

  “Jane,” Cal muttered, thinking she was quite possibly the most sensitive person he’d ever met. Also the most ridiculous, but he found himself more entertained than annoyed.

  By the time she had the saddle on, it was close to seven and twilight was beginning.

  “We’ll save the actual ride for another lesson,” he said. “But it’d be a shame if you didn’t at least mount her after all this.” Jane’s expression was skeptical. “You think I should? Tonight?”

  He nodded, then watched as she walked around to discuss the prospect with Atta Girl. “Does she have any objection?” Cal asked as a joke.

  “She doesn’t seem to,” Jane said, apparently taking him seriously.

  “I’ll help you adjust the stirrups,” he said. It was a skill that demanded experience and time. “You’re doing great.”

  “I’ll bet that’s what they said to Custer before the Battle of Little Big Horn,” she complained, then put her foot in the left stirrup and heaved herself up.

  Apparently the cinch wasn’t as tight as it should have been, because before he could warn her, the saddle slid sideways, sending her directly under Atta Girl’s stomach. Jane let out a cry of alarm while Atta Girl pranced about in an effort to maintain her balance. Cal held his breath, fearing the mare would in advertently step on Jane. To his amazement he watched her roll out from under the horse and leap to her feet. Indiana Jones had nothing on Dr. Texas!

  “Are you okay?” Cal asked. Everything had happened so fast he’d barely had time to react. He took hold of Atta Girl’s reins and quickly re assured the frightened mare by speaking gently to her.

  “That does it,” Jane said breathlessly, her hand over her heart.

  “You’re quitting?” Cal asked, not that he blamed her. She’d had quite a scare.

  “No, I’m joining Weight Watchers. I damn near downed that poor horse.”

  Cal stared at her, then started to chuckle. The laughter came deep from inside him, and nothing could have held it back. Nothing. It was as though two years of fun and laughter had been confined inside him, waiting for precisely this moment. A few hours with Jane Dickinson, and all the pent-up enjoyment of life came spilling out of him in waves of un re strained delight.

  “Well, I’m glad you find this so funny,” she said.

  Tears ran down his cheeks and he wiped them aside with the back of his hand. “Damn, but I can’t remember when I laughed so hard.” Jane crossed her arms, and not wanting his reaction to offend her, he gave her a brief hug. “You’re a good sport, Jane.”

  She muttered something unintelligible.

  “And listen, there’s no need for you to lose weight—you’re perfect just the way you are. The saddle slipped because the cinch wasn’t tight enough. It had nothing to do with your size.”

  She seemed none the worse for wear and within seconds she was smiling, too. “You’re willing to give me another lesson?”

  “You bet, Dr. Texas.”

  Her smile broadened.

  In fact, Cal could hardly wait. This was the most fun he’d had in years. Even Jennifer, the woman he’d lov
ed enough to marry, had never provoked this much reaction in him—apart from the anger and humiliation he felt when she’d dumped him.

  “Next week?” Jane asked.

  Cal nodded, but waiting an entire week for her second lesson was too long. He wanted to see her again soon.

  “Can you make it Tuesday, Dr. Texas?”

  She laughed. “You bet, cowboy—and at least my jeans are broken in now.”

  JANE RETURNED TO HER HOUSE, threw off her clothes and soaked in a hot tub. She couldn’t very well claim she was saddle sore, seeing that she hadn’t so much as managed to sit on a horse. But she’d taxed rarely used muscles in her effort to avoid being trampled by Atta Girl.

  All Cal had done was laugh, and while he might have been amused, she’d been frightened out of her wits. But all’s well that ends well, she decided, not sure if it was the desire to learn to ride or her attraction to Cal that had prompted her to agree to a second lesson.

  She liked him. A lot.

  Climbing out of the tub, she dressed in a light robe, made some popcorn for dinner and settled down in front of the television with a rented video. The tape had just started when the phone rang.

  It was so rare for her phone to ring that she stared at it for a moment. Any emergency calls came through her beeper. At last she picked it up.

  “Hello?”

  “Janey, it’s Mom. How are you, sweetheart?”

  “I’m feeling wonderful.” She reached for the remote control and stopped the movie. Since her arrival in Promise she’d tried to hide her unhappiness from her parents. Now she was eager to share the good news of making friends and becoming part of the community.

  “You sound terrific.”

  “Listen, honey,” her father said, speaking from the extension, “your letter arrived this afternoon. What’s all this about a ghost town?”

  Excited after her discussion with Dovie, Jane had written home, elaborating on the story, adding bits of speculation and her decision to learn everything she could. From what Dovie had said, the frontier town was real; information had been passed down from one generation to the next. But still, a person could grow up believing in some historical “fact” and later learn it had been a legend with little or no basis in reality.