by Arlene James
“No problem,” Rex assured him. “We’ll talk soon.”
“Tell Wes we’re praying for him.”
“Absolutely.”
They stepped out into the heat. Rex fit his hat onto his head as they walked toward the truck, his face grim.
“What’s wrong?” Callie asked.
“Nothing for you to worry about.”
“Tell me.”
“In a minute.”
They wrestled Bodie into her car seat—she wasn’t happy about it—and placated her with a hard teething cookie. She would be a mess by the time they got home, but the poor baby was hungry and hurting. After they climbed into the front seat and Rex got the truck moving, Callie doggedly returned to the subject of the meeting.
“So talk, and don’t think to spare me. I heard my father’s name mentioned in the hallway.”
Rex sighed. “Against advice, the church entered into an unusual loan agreement with your father some time ago, and now Stuart is calling the note due.”
“Why?”
Rex took his eyes off the road long enough to face her squarely. “Why do you think?”
Callie closed her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“This is not your fault. He’s upset with me.”
She shook her head, accepting the inevitable. “Bodie and I will go back into town tomorrow.” She’d known this day would come, after all; she just hadn’t expected it so soon.
“No,” Rex stated flatly, “you won’t.”
“I’ve already earned enough to get us out of War Bonnet,” she argued, trying not to feel hopeful. “I’ll just bide my time until Dad calms down, then we’ll slip away.”
“No,” Rex said again. “We need you at the Straight Arrow.” He reached for her hand then, folding his own around it. “I need you. How will we manage without you?”
“M-Meredith—” she began.
“Is not here,” he put in, “and even when she is, she’s going to have her hands full with Dad. Do you think his next chemo treatment is going to be easier for him?”
Callie shook her head. “Harder,” she whispered.
“Meri and I have already discussed it,” Rex said. “We’re going to need your help even after she arrives.”
“I—I don’t know, Rex.”
“Besides, your leaving now wouldn’t change anything,” he insisted. “Stu will just keep the pressure on until you do what he wants. You must know your father well enough to know that. The only thing to do now is to stand up to him.”
She suspected that Rex was right about this. Once her dad found something that worked, he wasn’t going to give it up.
“Still, I can’t be the cause for suffering by your family and now even the church, too.”
He squeezed her hand. “Like I said, I’m more to blame for this than you are. And I’ve got some ideas how to deal with it.”
“Really?”
Rex nodded. “I’ll talk it over with Dad, and see what he thinks, but I feel certain we can foil Stuart’s plans.”
“I hope you’re right.”
Lifting her hand, he kissed her fingers. “Trust me. Okay?”
She took a deep breath and nodded, but she had a very bad feeling that she had brought great harm to the Billings family and ranch, not to mention the church. Moreover, she feared that the price for it might be more than her heart could afford to pay. All she could do now, though, was pray—and go as soon as Meredith arrived.
Chapter Eleven
It had been a long time since Rex had sat with his father and prayed with him over a matter. Somewhere along the way he’d stupidly decided that he was too old for a father’s counsel, or maybe it had been nothing more than his pride. Rex didn’t know anymore; he only knew that he felt a great peace after talking and praying with his dad.
“It’s a lot of money, son,” Wes said, “but if you’re sure you want to do this, I think God will bless the effort.”
“Not about that,” Rex replied confidently. “I’ve received material blessings in abundance, but I’m not sure I’ve been such a good steward of them. I just think it’s time I step up.”
“I understand,” Wes said, clapping Rex on the shoulder. “Maybe this was what God intended when the vote went against me back then. It all seemed so foolish to me. Yet, everyone else thought it a fine idea. It’s like your mother said. God always has a plan.”
Nodding, Rex smiled and got up to leave his father’s room, but first he bent and hugged the old man. “Thanks, Dad.”
“For what?” Wes demanded gruffly. “Getting sick? Upending your life?”
“For bringing me home,” Rex said, straightening.
Wes turned his head, looking out the window, but Rex had caught the sheen of tears in his faded blue eyes. “God always has a plan,” Wes repeated in a gravelly voice.
Rex dropped a hand on his dad’s too-thin shoulder. “I just don’t want it to involve you dying too soon.”
“Might not be soon enough,” Wes rumbled.
“Don’t say that,” Rex scolded.
Wes grimaced. “Don’t you think I know that my illness is eating up Straight Arrow reserves? Ever since your mom died I’ve been wondering why I was holding on here, and now I see you doing so much with this place, and it’s more than I ever dared hope for, son. I can’t believe the good Lord means to let the ravages of this old body eat up what’s been built for you here.”
“First of all,” Rex lectured, “you’re not old. Second, the ranch means far less to me without you than with you. And third, I’ve still got plenty of money to invest, Dad, and some ideas about how I want to use it. But I’m not the only Billings with a stake here, you know. I mean to talk to Meri and Ann about a new plan for the Straight Arrow. We’ll discuss it in detail when you’re feeling better.”
He watched his father’s eyes fill with tears. Then Wes groused, “In that case, you better let me catch a nap now, before Callie starts pestering me to eat.”
Smiling, Rex dropped a kiss on Wes’s bald head and went out. Even a proud man deserved to cry in private on occasion.
Rex found more tears in the kitchen. Callie tried to pretend that it was the steam coming out of the oven when she checked her roast, but he knew better.
“I’m sorry. Everything’s running late,” she said, wiping her face with her apron.
“Not your fault,” he told her.
She ignored that, saying, “Dinner should’ve been done by now. I put the vegetables in as soon as we got home. Hot as it is, I don’t know why they’re t-taking so lo-ong.” Her voice cracked on the last word.
Rex just gathered her into his arms and turned her into his chest. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. Everything’s fine.”
“It’s not,” she squeaked. “I don’t know the details, but my father’s called the note on the church because of me. How could he do that?”
Realizing that only a full explanation would suffice, Rex steered her to the table and bodily placed her in a chair. Then he sat down at the end of the table and took her hands in his.
“Some years ago,” he began, “the foundation on the church parsonage cracked. The church had bought the property from a third party who didn’t hold the mineral rights.”
“Typical for Oklahoma,” she muttered, wiping her face again.
“Yes. Anyway, they didn’t realize that the title restrictions, church ownership coupled with split rights, could make a second mortgage next to impossible. They didn’t have the money to repair the damage to the house, which was only going to get worse, so they were in a very difficult situation. They still owed money on the place and couldn’t sell it because of its condition, but they couldn’t get a conventional sort of loan, so against advice, they elected to borrow from your father.”
“Whose
advice?” she asked, her brow beetling.
“My father’s.”
Callie closed her eyes and flipped a hand. “So of course this becomes the perfect vehicle for retribution after I come to work here at the Straight Arrow.”
“And after I exposed some of his less-than-legitimate private dealings.”
“What happened? Did the church miss a payment or make it late?”
“Several actually. And your dad forgave every one.”
“Until now.”
Rex nodded slowly. “He went to the pastor on Friday and told him that he had no choice but to call the loan because the church was allowing us, the Billings family, to keep you here under ‘illicit and immoral conditions.’” Callie gasped, but Rex went on, “Stuart demanded that the board of deacons pressure us to return you to your ‘rightful place’ in his household. Otherwise, he’ll call the note.”
She shot up out of her chair, a look of sheer horror on her face. “How could he...what they must...”
“They told him to go fly a kite,” Rex stated calmly, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs at the ankles. “No one believed it for a minute, Callie. They know you. They know us. They know nothing illicit or immoral is going on here.”
She clamped a hand over her mouth, tears streaming from her eyes, and nodded her head. He smiled, relieved that she seemed to believe him.
“Still,” she said, wiping her face again, “I can’t let him call that note.”
“He won’t.”
“You don’t know Stuart Crowsen if you think that,” she scoffed. Glancing around, she seemed to be thinking. “I—I’ll put up some meals to hold y’all over until Meredith arrives. You...you can get Mrs. Lightner to come in and sit with Wes during the day. It shouldn’t take too long. By morning, midday tomorrow, you can d-drive us into town, and this will all be over.”
“Until you try to leave town,” Rex pointed out gently. “He’ll just threaten to call the note again. You know he will.”
She shook her head. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Matters to me,” he said softly. “Besides, I thought you understood that you’re staying here.”
“But—”
Rex got up from the table. “I won’t have it, Callie. The only way you leave here is if you want to go. Do you want to go?”
She stared at him, her big green eyes filled with worry. “No, but—”
“That’s all there is to say on the subject then.”
“The church—”
“Has nothing to worry about,” he promised, leaning down to flatten his hands on the tabletop.
“How can you say that when you’ve just told me that they can’t pay the loan?”
“They can’t,” he said, straightening and folding his arms. “I can.”
She cocked her head as if she hadn’t quite caught what he’d said. “You’re going to pay off the loan?”
“Yes.”
He didn’t think her eyes could get any wider, but they somehow did. “How are you going to manage that?”
“By writing a check.”
She gaped at him, her jaw dropping, her mouth falling open to show her even white teeth.
“You’d do that to keep us on at the Straight Arrow?”
“Oh, sweetheart,” he said, dropping his hands to his hips, “I’d do more than that to keep you and Bodie here.”
* * *
She needed to sit down before she fell down. Callie felt behind her for a chair, already sinking into it, but there was no chair to be found. In a flash, Rex shot across the room to fold his arms around her and hold her up.
“You okay?”
Grasping the collar of his shirt with both hands, she shook him. “How much?” she demanded.
“Honey...”
“How much?”
“Almost forty thousand.” He said it with a little smile and what almost looked like pride.
“Forty thousand dollars,” she breathed.
“I can afford it,” he told her, walking her to the table and putting her into the chair again. “I’m happy to do it. Besides,” he went on, crouching beside her, “I owe that church.”
“Owe the church?”
“When Mom died,” he told her, taking her hand in both of his, “our family was in pieces. They took care of us, of everything really. And after, when I couldn’t be here, they took care of Dad. Every cold, every virus, every crisis on the ranch, they were here for him. And before you came, they were all that kept us going here, carrying in food, trying to manage the laundry and housework. Of course, it’s not just us. The church is God’s hands and feet in the community, and Countryside fills that role especially well.”
“I’ve always heard that,” Callie conceded.
“So first I do it for God,” Rex said, “and then I do it for the church that has been so good to me and my family. I do it for Dad because he needs you here. But I do this for you, too, to keep you out from under your father’s thumb. And away from Ben Dolent.” She had to smile at that. “And I do it for me,” Rex went on, “because my life would be so much less without you and Bodie in it.”
“That’s temporary at best, though,” she pointed out.
“Maybe not. I suspect you can always have a place here at the Straight Arrow if you want it.”
Callie smiled, feeling glad and sad at the same time. “That’s lovely, but you’re going—”
“Nowhere,” he said, pushing up to his full height again. “I’m home, and I’m not finding any reason to be anywhere else.” Callie knew that she was gaping again, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. “I’m not going anywhere,” he stated, “and Stuart Crowsen had better get used to the idea.” He cupped her chin in his hand then, gently closing her mouth. “You, too.”
She stared up at him for several seconds before Bodie’s thin wail pierced her awareness.
“Oh. The baby.” Callie got to her feet, and the aroma of pot roast with all the fixings hit her. “And dinner.”
“I’ll get the baby,” Rex said. “You take care of dinner.”
Flustered, Callie started toward the oven, only to turn back. “Uh, she’s going to need changing. I’d better go.”
“I think I can change a diaper,” Rex said, waving her back toward the oven. “I’ve watched you do it often enough now.”
The timer dinged, and Callie grabbed a pair of pot holders, calling, “I’ll just take this out of the oven and come up.”
“I’ve got it,” Rex assured her, striding toward the stairs.
Callie pulled the heavy roasting pan from the oven and lifted the lid, her mind whirling. The meal seemed ready at last. All that remained was to dish everything up and thicken the gravy while the bread browned. Bodie’s crying stopped, so Callie kept working, and by the time she poured the gravy into the serving dish, Rex was back, a freshly diapered Bodie in his arms.
For once Bodie wanted her mama, so Rex handed her off then shifted food to the table before calling his dad. He pulled the bread from the oven while Callie mashed roasted potatoes, carrots and beans with milk for Bodie. She would feed her a little solid food now and nurse her later.
Rex said the blessing over the meal, and Callie heard a peaceful new strength in his voice that both thrilled and frightened her a little. He was nothing like her late husband had been. Bo had prayed easily and eloquently in public, but in retrospect, Bo seemed like an idealistic boy compare to Rex. Yet, the strength with which Rex met her father’s machinations both thrilled and, if she was honest, unnerved Callie a little. Oh, Rex had his soft side, too. She saw it every time he played with Bodie or when he helped his dad bathe or dress, but she couldn’t ignore his toughness.
In some ways he seemed a combination of Stuart and Bo. She just didn’t know if that was a good thing o
r a bad one.
For one thing, how was she supposed to resist this Rex? How did she not fall in love with him?
She wanted to believe that he was falling in love with her, too, but what did she have to offer him besides cooking and housekeeping services? And what did she do with the sudden disloyalty that she felt toward sweet, gentle Bo?
Her emotions were so conflicted that, on Monday evening, when Rex dragged in so exhausted that Callie wondered if he could make it to the dinner table, she resorted to scolding him.
“Are you trying to make yourself sick? You left early and skipped lunch today.”
“Just trying to get the sorghum in the ground.”
“I thought you were about to harvest sorghum. Now you’re planting it?”
“We’re harvesting the early crop. We’re planting the late fodder.”
“I don’t understand. Why not just buy feed like everyone else. It’s because of me, isn’t it? Because my father won’t sell you what you need.”
Rex chuckled. “Not even close, darlin’. We’ve done some research, Dad and I, and grass-fed beef is far healthier than beef fattened on engineered feeds. Straight Arrow is abandoning the feedlot. I’ve talked to Stark Burns about it, and he’s completely on board. No antibiotics, except to treat ill animals. From now on, everything we feed our herd, we raise right here on the ranch, organically. Eventually, we’ll have our own brand, Straight Arrow Beef.”
Callie literally marveled. “Rex, that’s...that’s brilliant.”
He smiled tiredly. “Well, Dad and my sisters are on board. Guess we’ll see. Now, if I don’t move, I’m going to drop where I stand.”
Nodding, she hurried toward the kitchen. “Dinner is ready when you are.”
“I’ll be along.”
He came in buttoning a clean shirt a few minutes later and managed to eat a full meal, but then he fell asleep on the sofa in the living room while she was cleaning up. She hated to wake him, but he needed to go to bed, so she gently shook his shoulder.
“Chloe,” he said, jerking up straight in his seat.
“What?”
He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Huh?”
