Lone Star Legacy

by Roxanne Rustand

  “We’re doing okay. It’s harder for Sophie, because she suffered some hearing loss and she still has nightmares.” She stared over his shoulder, her brow furrowed. “I’ve tried and tried to remember what happened, but it’s all a total blank from the time we left home until I woke up in the ICU sometime the next day.”

  Some of his perceptions about Beth shifted.

  Of course anyone who’d been through such a tragedy would be deeply affected. Her wariness was probably a perfectly normal reaction by a grieving, vulnerable widow alone in a strange town.

  “Perhaps that’s for the best.” He suddenly felt awkward, out of his depth. “Not remembering the accident, that is.”

  “No.” Her knuckles whitened around the spout of the old china pot. “Sometimes Sophie wakes up screaming, saying things that make no sense. If I could remember, maybe I could help her.”

  She winced, then opened her hand and looked down at her palm. The spout lay there broken, and blood welled from a cut at the base of her thumb. “All I can do is hold her, and tell her that everything will be all right. But that’s no help at all.”

  BY THE END OF THE WEEK, Beth knew two things—that she’d never make it as receptionist/bookkeeper, and that no project was ever as easy as it looked.

  “Tell me again about Elena,” she grumbled at Walt as he passed by the front office with a Schnauzer tucked under his arm. “She was a paragon, right?”

  “She was.”

  It was always interesting to hear Walt’s views about his former employee while trying to make sense of Elena’s innovative filing system. “Um…doesn’t P usually come after L, or is it just my imagination?”

  He backed up and peered over her shoulder. “That’s the Petersons’ file. They have llamas.”

  “But it’s under L. She filed under types of animals?”

  He smiled patiently at her. “Now, that surely would be too confusing for a ranch, wouldn’t it?”

  Beth bit back a growl of frustration. “Yes, it surely would. But you say Elena got married, and she won’t be back. Is that correct?”

  “Afraid so.” He shook his head sadly and moved on down the hall.

  “Then I’ve got a month or so to fix this filing system before some other poor soul has to deal with it,” Beth muttered under her breath. “Unless I go mad before then.”

  Joel walked in the front door with his tool belt slung low on his hips and an armload of two-by-fours. He lifted an eyebrow, apparently picking up on her frustration. “How’s the job?”

  “The animals are great, and that’s as far as I’m going. Except for Walt, of course.” She paused, considering. “And I guess you aren’t as grumpy as I first thought.”

  He laughed. “Admit it. You’ll miss this place when you open that café of yours.”

  “Not the filing system.” She smiled back at him, relieved at the easier camaraderie they’d gradually developed over the last four days.

  He probably just felt sorry for her, what with the loss of her husband and the all-too-visible scars she tried to hide with a loose hairstyle and long-sleeved shirts. But as much as she disliked pity, it was better than his sharp-eyed suspicion from the week before.

  She truly did enjoy being here at the clinic for a few hours at the end of every day, and it had to be good for Sophie to spend time with other children at her new babysitter’s place, too.

  “I’ll be stopping by again tonight,” Joel said as he passed the desk empty-handed, heading outside for another load. “I can install stainless steel counters for the café from a set I found in an old bar, if you’re interested. The owner says you can have them all for fifty bucks.”

  “That’s fantastic.” Filled with gratitude, she watched him go out the door, then flopped back in her chair and sighed.

  He’d been over nearly every evening, working until midnight. Finding shortcuts and cost-saving materials that were as good or better than she would have paid for new.

  In another place, another time, she might just be a little infatuated with him, watching that smooth ripple of muscle play beneath those T-shirts, hearing his deep laugh. Seeing his skill at making something beautiful out of almost nothing. But there were a dozen reasons why that wouldn’t happen, and she only had to think about Sophie—whom Joel carefully avoided—or Patrick to bring the biggest ones to mind.

  Being a fool once had been bad enough.

  Walt strode back down the hall and handed her a slip of paper. “Payday. Every Friday, so you can keep up on things at home.”

  She accepted it with just a glance at the number, then took a longer look. “This has to be a mistake.”

  “No mistake. You’re saving this place from total ruin, and me from keeling over from stress.” He grinned and turned on his heel. “I’m heading for home now. Just forward all the calls to my cell when you leave.”

  “But really—”

  He waved and went out the back door, leaving her to fan herself with the check. Could it be that things would actually work out here?

  The café phone had been installed yesterday. It wouldn’t be long before she could decorate the little place and then start ordering food supplies.

  She smiled, imagining a bakery case of lovely almond crescents. Cream-filled croque en bouche. Baguettes. Tempting little salads, artfully arranged, with a golden brioche on a matching plate, and a select variety of teas and coffees to tempt the palate.

  How could she go wrong?

  THE NEXT DAY, Joel stopped by the front desk and stared over her shoulder at the menu she’d drawn up on the clinic computer during her coffee break.

  He was speechless for a moment, then he burst into laughter. “Sugar, do you know where you are? You’re in the middle of rural Texas. Home of roadhouse barbeque, chicken-fried steak and sweet tea. Folks in this town aren’t gonna know your fancy teas from a turnip.”

  Affronted on behalf of all the Texans in…well, Texas, she drew herself up to her full height. “If they haven’t tried my kind of menu before, they’ll be surprised. And happy.”

  “They aren’t going to be happy. They’re gonna be mystified. Now give ’em corn bread and a pot of pinto beans, and they’ll know what you’re talking about.”

  “I’ve been to Dallas. It’s a very cosmopolitan place.”

  “Right. But this is a bitty town two hundred miles from nowhere.” He raised his hands, palm up, in a gesture of defeat. “Do what you want. I’m just saying…”

  He turned away, but apparently couldn’t help himself, because he came right back. His lips twitched. “And another thing, you buy breakfast out here, and it isn’t brioche and a latte. It’s hot biscuits. Jalapeño roast beef hash or fried ham. Eggs. Fried potatoes. And don’t forget the grits and hotcakes. These ranchers want good fuel, not an international experience.”

  “They’re looking for a heart attack.”

  A teasing glint came into his eye. “Show them your menu, and you’ll probably give them a good one.”

  SOPHIE CUDDLED close to Beth on the couch in their apartment. It was ten o’clock and the poor child should have been asleep over an hour ago, but she’d awakened screaming, with tears streaming down her cheeks.

  “I don’t want to go to the babysitter. Not anymore.”

  “I thought you liked Mrs. Garcia. We heard very nice things about her, you know.” Beth stroked her daughter’s silky hair. “Can you tell me what happened today?”

  Sophie sniffled against Beth’s shirt. “It’s every day.”

  Beth pulled her onto her lap and held her close. “What happened?”

  “The k-kids.”

  “Her kids?”

  “Th-the others. They say—” Sophie dissolved into renewed tears. “Th-they say I’m st-stupid.”

  Beth hugged her tighter and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “Oh, sweetheart, you know that isn’t true. You’re the smartest little girl I know.”

  “They laugh at me!”

  Her words were muffled against Beth’s shi
rt, but still cut through her sharp as any knife. “Do you remember what the doctor said?”

  “U-use my good ear?”

  “He said this was because of the accident, so it has nothing to do with you being smart, sweetie. He said to turn your better ear toward people, and that your hurt ear would get better over time.”

  “But it isn’t.”

  “It has—you’re doing so much better already. And in the meanwhile, we just need to make sure people understand that they should talk directly to you.” Beth slowly rocked Sophie in her arms, treasuring her warmth. Wishing she could take away every hurt her daughter would ever have. “I’ll talk to Mrs. Garcia tomorrow. Then she can tell the kids to speak up.”

  Sophie pulled away in alarm. “They’ll say I’m a tattletale!”

  “No, I’ll ask her to be really subtle—er, careful—so they won’t think that.” Beth gently pulled her back into her arms and snuggled her close. “Things will be okay.”

  Sophie whimpered, but finally her breathing slowed and her little body relaxed into the boneless warmth of sleep. Beth savored her closeness for a few minutes more, then carried her back to bed and tucked her in.

  The unfamiliar jangling of the phone—the first time she’d heard it ring—startled her into a fast search for where she’d left the portable receiver.

  She nabbed it on the fourth ring from the serving counter in the kitchen. But no one responded when she said hello.

  “Crystal’s Café,” she repeated. “Can I help you?”

  “You’d better hope so,” the man said on a harsh laugh. As usual, his voice was low and gritty, slightly muffled. As if he purposely lowered its register and was speaking through a heavy cloth over the receiver. “The question is, how fast. It won’t be that hard to get to you, if that’s what it takes.”

  She gripped the receiver, her heart hammering against her ribs and her palms sweating. “I—I swear to you, I searched everything. I don’t have what you want.”

  “You owe me, sweetheart, and you’d better think twice, because my patience is wearing thin.”

  “I…don’t have it, and I don’t even know who you are. I owe you nothing.” She swallowed hard, her fear warring with anger. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. “You’re crazy.”

  “You don’t think the Chicago police would like a little information on you? I figure you’re good for fifteen to twenty, federal time.”

  A familiar wave of dizziness careened through her midsection, leaving nausea in its wake. “Th-there’s nothing to tell them, because I did nothing wrong. They didn’t press charges of any kind.”

  “Oh, but they will…when they know more.” His voice lowered to a growl laced with pure menace. “Don’t make me come after you and that little girl of yours. One way or another, you’re gonna give me what I’m after. And believe me, until I get the key and that file, you aren’t safe anywhere on this planet—so don’t think your little move to Texas was any help at all.”

  The line went dead.

  Beth sagged to the cold floor, the receiver still in her hand, her pulse still pounding in her ears.

  From the first anonymous call, she’d desperately started searching for what he wanted, planning to turn it all over to the police—hoping that it would lead to the arrest of the man harassing her.

  But there’d been nothing.

  No paperwork on any mysterious bank account and no key—though she’d been through every inch of the house in Chicago twice, and had gone through all of her possessions a third time while packing for the move to Texas.

  Back in Chicago, she’d reported the man’s four threatening calls, but tracing them had led to public phones all over the city. There’d been nothing to go on. Though reporting them had brought the cops back into her life again, and she’d seen the suspicion in their eyes. Then an investigator had shown up at her door—the same one who’d interrogated her after Patrick’s death—and his hard-hitting questions had shaken her even more.

  What if the caller was telling the truth—and had some sort of evidence that could lead to her arrest? And what would happen to Sophie then?

  Wrapping her arms around her knees, Beth closed her eyes and tried to slow her racing heart. There was so much about her husband’s secret life that she hadn’t known until the police had shown up after his funeral with a thousand questions she couldn’t begin to answer.

  Oh, Patrick, what on earth did you do?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  BETH RAPPED SOFTLY on Anna Garcia’s front door, then entered when the day-care provider’s greeting echoed from somewhere inside.

  The usual five-thirty confusion was in progress, with two other moms walking in the door just ahead of Beth to round up their children. A little boy was crying in Anna’s arms. Two girls Sophie’s age were playing with dolls, but Sophie sat alone with a book and watched them from across the room.

  Beth’s heart squeezed at her daughter’s forlorn expression. Her own time at the clinic flew by, but what were those hours like for Sophie, feeling like an outsider at the age of four? After three days, she still hadn’t made any friends.

  The taller mom, a slender woman in a pretty mauve sweater and matching skirt, motioned to her daughter, then turned to Beth. “We haven’t met yet. I’m Gina Carlton. I’m the principal of the elementary school over in Horseshoe Falls, so these kids will get to know me pretty well in a few years.” She nodded toward the other woman. “And this is Tracy Evans.”

  Beth introduced herself to them both, but Tracy, expensively dressed in matching ivory linen slacks and a cashmere sweater, simply looked over her shoulder and sized Beth up, then turned back to her daughter.

  Beth felt a pang at her cool dismissal, so much like the arrogance of her most recent neighbors in suburban Chicago. Two years ago, Patrick had insisted on buying a home in an upscale neighborhood, saying it represented all he’d ever worked for, but she’d never been comfortable with such a high mortgage or in such an affluent area.

  Gina smiled warmly. “I understand you’re thinking of reopening the café.”

  “Maybe. It’s turning out to be more work than I expected.”

  “Well, I hope you persevere. Lone Wolf hasn’t had a nice place like that in ages. Won’t that be great, Tracy?”

  The woman in ivory arched one perfect eyebrow. “Bob and I were just talking about it, actually. A lot of folks in town hope the place will be torn down.”

  Beth drew in a sharp breath. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  Tracy shooed her daughter toward the front door. “No offense intended, of course, but there certainly wouldn’t be much business in a town like this, and the property is already in ruins. If I were you, I’d save myself the money and the embarrassment.”

  “Don’t listen to her,” Gina murmured after the door swung shut. “She and her husband own a restaurant in Horseshoe Falls, and she’s been a know-it-all since we were in high school. I think reopening the café would be wonderful for this town. Don’t you, Anna?”

  The boy in the caregiver’s arms had finally stopped whimpering. She gently settled him down next to a stack of wooden puzzles, then walked over to Beth and gave her a quick hug. “Absolutely. I know you plan on leaving at the end of the summer, but we can always hope the new owners will keep it open. And maybe,” she added with a twinkle in her eye, “you’ll even decide to stay.”

  Beth glanced between Gina’s daughter and Sophie, then chose her words carefully. “I’d love to stay, but we don’t have much choice….”

  Gina’s brow furrowed. “Barely here, then going so soon? This town really wants to keep nice newcomers like you.”

  “I need a stable job, good enough to support us. Sophie needs a school district large enough to offer special services for preschoolers.”

  “Special services?”

  “She has some hearing loss. It isolates her, because kids her age either ignore her or think she’s ‘different’ and don’t accept her.”

  “I didn’t realize.�
� Gina blew out a long sigh. “That has to be tough on her, poor thing.”

  “She does fine if she can see the face of the person talking and if they speak clearly. Otherwise, she misinterprets certain words.”

  “What about surgery?”

  “The specialist wanted to wait a while. This happened because of an accident, and she’s showing gradual improvement. If there’s not enough change in six months, we’ll need to look at other options…so by then I’ll need a job with good benefits.”

  “But in the meantime…” Gina glanced at Sophie, her eyes filled with sympathy. “You know, maybe my Olivia and Sophie can get together for some play dates. Just the two of them, where it isn’t so noisy and distracting. Do you suppose Sophie could come over on Saturday?”

  The offer was more than Beth had hoped for. “I know she’d love that.”

  “It might even help her feel included here, if she has a friend.” Gina gave Beth’s arm a gentle squeeze, then she dug around in her purse for a business card and handed it over. “This has my cell, home and work numbers on it, so we can figure out the details later.”

  Scooping her daughter up into her arms, Gina started for the door, then turned back. “Don’t even think about what Tracy said. You reopen that café and I promise you’ll end up busier than you want to be. I must be related to half the people in this county, and I’ll pass the word.”

  “Thanks!” But Tracy’s words kept coming back to her for the rest of the evening. Was it foolish to even think about trying?

  “NO, HE’S NOT MARRIED.” Following Dorothea Wilbert’s intent stare, Beth glanced over her shoulder and saw Joel disappear into Walt’s office, where he was installing an entire wall of oak shelving for Walt’s library of veterinary books and professional journals. Anticipating the next question, she added, “And far as I know, he is not attached.”

  “If I was a few years younger…” Dorothea’s eyes gleamed. “He’s quite a hottie, you know.”