by Debra Holt
“I have papers to deliver to the sheriff at the courthouse in Farris. Then, I thought we could swing by The Diner on Main Street in McKenna Springs for a late lunch.”
“That’s your sister’s restaurant, and Darcy is her name, correct?”
“I’m impressed. You remembered those details.”
“A good recall is one of a writer’s most useful tools,” she replied with a smile. “I’ve always had a good memory.”
“Did you always want to be a writer?” His tone held sincere interest in her answer even though he kept his eyes on the road as he negotiated their way through the traffic leading away from downtown.
“Honestly, no. I wanted to be a teacher. However, I couldn’t finish college so that left that career choice out. I took a job as a secretary after I graduated high school. It wasn’t a very busy or interesting office… plumbing supplies. I had a lot of spare time. I would jot down things… daydreams, mostly… then longer, fictional stories. A friend dared me to send in a manuscript one day.”
“And the rest is history, as they say?” he commented, with a quick glance at her when she grew silent.
“It didn’t happen overnight. There were lots, and I mean lots, of rejections. I was just determined to at least finish one thing in my life. It was my lucky day to find an agent who decided to take a chance on my early writing ability. She took me under her wing and I soaked up as much knowledge as I could. One day it finally paid off.”
“You said you didn’t want to go to college? You’re a very bright lady. I’m surprised you…”
Stacy cut him off. “I said I wasn’t able to go. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to go. I wanted desperately to go to college and become a history teacher. However, my mom was not in the position to help me and I really didn’t want to leave her alone at the time.”
“Was she ill?”
“No,” she replied.
Stacy was aware that he was waiting for more. She was always a private person when it came to her life… especially her early life. She supposed she had always been embarrassed by parts of it. Why should she be? Surely this man, in his line of work, would understand more so than any other… especially more than men like Donnie, for instance. Stacy would certainly never think of talking of her past with him.
She also realized in that moment that Donnie had never asked her about it, strangely enough, except for only the barest information. She supposed he had quickly surmised her background was neither important enough to pursue it for connections or interesting enough to sit and hear it out. Davis McKenna was different. Yet another glaring difference between the two men. Go for it.
“My mother was never very good in picking men, beginning with the man who was my father for all of six months after I was born. In her defense, she was young herself… a single mom, high school dropout, with a child. She worked as a waitress in a barbecue joint at night and as a housekeeper at a small motel by day. That way, we could live in one of the rooms for very little rent.
“Mom tended to gravitate to the rodeo cowboys who would hang around the bar in the barbecue place. Their smooth talk and tight jeans produced a steady stream of ‘move-in but don’t stay too long’ boyfriends. She married four of them before I was sixteen. Each one was going to be ‘the one’, to hear her tell it. She ended up alone and needing my help with the bills.” Stacy’s eyes went to the scenery beyond her window. She was surprised she had said so much, and so easily, to the man beside her.
“So, you stayed close to her and gave up your dream of school and teaching.” He summed it up. “That’s why you don’t think too highly of cowboys, or that type of man, at least.”
There was no hint of pity in his voice, no indictment of her decision. Stacy appreciated that.
She brought her gaze to meet his. “Plus, the fact that some of those cowboys she brought home wanted to get to know the daughter of the woman they were dating, a bit too well… to put it as nicely as possible.” She couldn’t keep the sharp edge of anger from tinting the words she spoke. Her eyes moved to the road ahead of them. “I learned how to stay out of the line of sight early on, and how to protect myself if need be. Cowboys have this reputation for all being gentlemen. I can attest to the fact that they’re not.”
“You know, not all cowboys are like those that associated with and then left your mom,” he said after a few moments. “Those weren’t real cowboys. They were the ten-cent drug store variety at best. Besides, lousy men come in all different sizes and shapes and from all walks of life. Men like Donnie Harrington can be just as big a loser as someone who wears boots and a cowboy hat.”
“Excuse me?” Stacy’s eyes flashed at him. “Donnie is nothing like those men.”
“I didn’t say he was,” he replied smoothly, his gaze staying on the road ahead of them. “I was using him as an example. You can’t judge all men by the same criteria.”
“How should they be judged?”
“Individually… by what’s inside each one and what they do, not just what they say. Looks fade with age, bank accounts can dwindle overnight, and any man can buy a pair of boots. What’s inside doesn’t change. The character of a man is what makes him. Should I go on?”
“All men should be given a chance, each based on their own merits, is that it?”
“I think you can trust your instincts. You’re a smart lady. Don’t lump everyone into one group just because of what you associate with something bad from your past. I already know enough about you to lead me to think you have a much better head on your shoulders than your mother did at the same age. You had to grow up faster than most and probably be the more mature one of the two of you. Your mother’s weakness is not necessarily yours. Although, you could say you’re allowing her choices to taint yours now. Trust your gut instincts. I’ll wager you won’t go wrong.”
She eyed him for a few moments. “My instincts are telling me right now that you’re very good at your job.” That was her way of admitting his words did have some merit.
No man had ever challenged her belief before, nor made her examine her reasoning with more clarity. If she really examined what he said, she just might find more than a little truth to it. She had gotten where, during that dark period of her life, she would see the hat and boots and swagger and immediately she would have a gut reaction… putting up the barricades and self-protecting diatribes. It had become an automatic habit.
“I try to be. I think I’m a pretty good judge of character. And you, Ms. Smith, are too smart a lady to be hampered by tunnel vision. I do think there’s hope for you.” He flashed a grin and she found herself returning it with a smile.
“It’s your turn now, Ranger McKenna. Did you always want to grow up to be one of the good guys in white hats?”
He gave a short laugh as he shook his head. He had a nice laugh. That thought came to her from nowhere in particular. She’d like to hear it more often.
“Well, since I’m wearing a black hat today, I would say that I wanted to grow up to be a good guy… period. At least the kind of guy who could help others.”
“Good point.”
“I went to the military out of high school. I found my niche in the military police, and then worked in investigations. When I came out of the service, I went into law enforcement along with taking college courses. I had a couple of good mentors who saw some potential in me when I was a state trooper. I eventually applied for a position with the rangers, not thinking I’d have much of a chance… not on the first go-round. But, again, I had some good advocates working on my behalf. There you have my story. It’s nothing very dramatic.”
“You were at the convention where we met… for any particular reason?”
“I was one of the presenters.”
“And what topic do you speak on?”
For a moment or two, he was silent in thoughtful consideration. Stacy found her interest piqued. When his reply came, she had to admit surprise.
“Homicide investigations and child abductions. Those
tend to be the two areas I’m called to speak about,” he replied in a matter of fact tone.
“I don’t want this to sound awful, but those are very interesting… those topics I mean. Particularly from a writer’s point of view.”
He tossed her a half smile. “Lots of people say that, thanks to all the crime shows on television now. The reality of it is far from glamorous. The dark side of human nature is nothing to make entertainment from.”
“Why do you choose to make it your career?”
“Why not?” Davis responded. “It interests me—the investigating, putting the clues together into a pattern, finding the monsters that prey on the harmless, and seeing that justice is indeed served… most of the time.”
“A modern-day John Wayne.” Stacy commented with a grin. “That is indeed about as much of a cowboy as you can get.”
“The term ‘cowboy’ isn’t derogatory. Being a cowboy has its own code in most places. It stands for being able to look another person in the eye, trust that a handshake is as good as any contract, stake your life on the fact that person is there for those high-water days, as well as the calm ones. The men you and your mother had the misfortune to come across were the wannabes who aren’t fit to wipe the boots of the real men. I come from good cowboy stock. I’m a cowboy who wears a ranger badge. I make no excuses for being proud of that fact.” Davis didn’t say more as they were coming into the outskirts of Farris, Texas.
They turned off the main four-lane highway and headed north on a two-lane road that meandered past older frame homes, some of them obviously quite old with their broad porches and tree shaded yards. That road eventually turned into what was evidently the main street of the town. Besides the usual hardware store, western wear, and pharmacy, there were other interesting stores with crafts in their display windows, especially quilts and woodcrafts. In front of them, standing in the middle of a treed square, was a two-story, native stone building with Farris Law Enforcement Center carved on a smooth stone over the main doorway.
“I do like the beauty of these old Texas buildings. It would be interesting to do a photo journal of them all, although I’m sure that’s already been done numerous times,” Stacy commented, as Davis parked the truck in a space marked, “For Official Vehicles Only.” She noted the fact. “It must be nice to have front door parking.”
He tossed her a grin as he gathered the paperwork from the console before opening his door. “The job does have its perks. I may be a few minutes.”
“Don’t worry about me,” she responded. “I’ll just check out a couple of those interesting shops we passed.” Stacy stepped out of the truck and joined him on the sidewalk.
“Enjoy yourself. I’ll call your cell when I finish to locate you.” Davis headed up the sidewalk toward the entrance of the building.
Stacy took slower steps. For some reason, she enjoyed the sight of the disappearing man. Not bad. There must have been a silly smile on her face when she finally did turn away.
“Remember when the ladies used to smile at us like that, Ned?”
The unexpected voice brought her back to reality and her gaze went to the two elderly men, dressed in the requisite western attire, with their straw cowboy hats perched on their heads. She guessed their ages to be in their seventies, at the very least. The one who spoke wore wire-rimmed glasses and a can of diet cola sat beside him on the wooden table under the branches of the large pecan tree… one of several that shaded the courthouse grounds.
“Remember? What do you mean remember? They still do look at me like that, Murph.” Ned sent a crooked grin at her, before sliding his brown eyes with their twinkle of mischief in them back over to the man seated across from him.
“Then they need glasses.” The rejoinder was delivered with perfect timing from his partner.
Stacy couldn’t help but grin at both.
“You’re new in town.” It was a statement, not a question. “Sit a spell young lady, and you’ll see everyone who lives here before the clock strikes again.” Ned indicated the empty seat between the two of them at their table. Stacy didn’t want to appear rude. Besides, one never knew where the next chapter of a book could come from. They interested her and she decided to spend a few minutes under the shade of the tree.
“Thank you, gentlemen, that’s very kind of you. I think I’ll join you for a minute or two. Who’s winning?” She nodded at the checker board as she took the seat.
“It’s even,” Murph spoke up, then doffed his hat in the respectful manner he was brought up to do when a man met a lady. He introduced himself. Ned followed suit.
“It’s very nice to meet you both. I’m Stacy Smith.”
“Now that’s a good solid name… Smith. I used to know some Smiths. Where are your folks from?”
“You’ll have to forgive Murph. He’ll bend your ear off if you let him. And it is not even.” Ned eyed his partner.
“Sounds like you two have been playing for quite some time,” Stacy ventured.
“We’ve been playing every Friday afternoon, right here under this tree, for the last eight years. We’ve only missed three times. We do the same on Tuesday afternoons over in Ned’s neck of the woods in McKenna Springs. Sort of a ‘travelling game’, you might say.” Murph supplied with a chuckle at his own wit.
“That’s amazing. Have you lived in this area all your lives?”
“Yes, ma’am. We’re what you young’uns would call ‘old timers’.” Murph said with another soft chuckle.
“What brings you to Farris? You and your ranger fella thinkin’ on moving here?”
Small town interest is alive and well. Stacy couldn’t help smiling. “No, he just had some business in the courthouse, and he isn’t my fella.”
“That’s a shame. What’s wrong with him?”
The observation caught Stacy off guard for a moment. Wrong with Davis? Her mind tried to wrap around a clever reply, but found none. “Nothing is wrong with him. We only met a few days ago.”
“I met my Margaret on a Sunday afternoon at a church social. The next Sunday, we stood before the preacher and said our ‘I dos’. We kept those vows for fifty-two years… until she passed last summer.” Ned’s voice was matter of fact, except she could hear the faint underpinning of sadness in it.
“That’s incredible,” Stacy murmured, “fifty-two years of marriage. I’ve never known anyone whose marriage lasted that long.”
“That’s because young people today make things too complicated.”
She had to hear more. Stacy cocked her head in a coax for him to continue. He didn’t need much coaxing.
“You meet someone. You both like each other, but instead of being honest about what you’re feeling, people go making things complicated. They think up all sorts of ridiculous ideas why they shouldn’t like the other person when they just need to be honest with each other. I looked at Maggie Mae and I listened to my heart. It told me that she was the one for me. I came right out and told her so. She felt the same. We didn’t see any need to beat around the bush about things. And when we said those words in front of that preacher, we meant them. Today, if one of the two people gets mad at the other, then they just snap their fingers and get a divorce. Like changing your socks or something. It should mean more.”
“I take it you aren’t a fan of divorce.” Stacy observed.
“Life is tough, but two people can make anything work if they put their mind to it… unless one of them isn’t fit to wipe the boots of the other to begin with. You say those vows before God and man so you best be able to stick with them. Or don’t do it at all.”
“Are we playing checkers? Have you finished with your preacherin?” Murph asked, sending a quick wink in her direction.
Stacy’s smile widened into a grin.
“You two gentlemen wouldn’t be flirting with this young lady, would you?” The unexpected interruption came from Davis.
Stacy looked up to find him leaning one shoulder against the trunk of the tree a few feet away. He h
ad evidently been enjoying listening to part of their conversation. Pushing away from the tree, Davis came to stand at her side. She rose from her seat, drawing the straps of her bag over her shoulder.
“Well, you left her on her own. I thought rangers were smarter than that,” Murph quipped.
“We try to be,” Davis returned with an easy smile.
“Well, let’s hope you’re smart enough to rope this filly in before she gets away from you.”
Davis grinned at the woman beside him who had a light color to her cheeks at that point. “I’ll keep your advice in mind, fellas. Have a good game.” He placed a hand at her elbow. Stacy said her goodbyes to the two men. They had taken a couple of steps, but could still hear the conversation behind them.
“Youth is really wasted on the young. Whoever said that sure hit the nail on the head.”
“Amen to that. Now move one of your checkers before next Christmas gets here!”
*
Walking beside Stacy toward his truck, Davis had to admit he might have had a bit of trepidation in taking the woman to his hometown right off the bat when she agreed to an outing with him. But he figured that someone with such a staunch opinion to “cowboys” needed to be immersed in the right ones. And McKenna Springs had those in unending supply. He was counting on the people he had known most of his life to help remove the blinders from the beautiful eyes that had aimed a pretty potent dose of something straight into the center of his chest the moment they met.
He’d known this woman might be someone special from the get-go. If he were asked to be more precise, he might be hard put to do that in a coherent manner. She could make a man lose touch with things such as words at the oddest moments. No one had ever rendered him speechless before. And never would he have guessed he would harbor even the slightest bit of jealous spark inside him as he had when he watched her interactions a few moments ago with the two elderly cowboys on the courthouse lawn. When she had laughed at something they said, he had received a gut kick. The number of smiles they received from her was counted also.
