All Roads Lead to Texas

by Linda Warren

  “What else have I got to do?”

  “Work this ranch like you always have.” He paused, using all the ammunition he had. “That’s what Zach would want.”

  Jock gulped down a swallow of coffee. “I don’t want to talk about Zach.”

  “We have to,” Wade insisted, knowing they had to get to the root of Jock’s problem. “You blame me. You haven’t come out and said it, but I know you do.”

  Jock glared at him through bloodshot eyes. “Why did you let him go to that party? Why?”

  It was the first time Jock had asked that question and it was long overdue. Wade removed his hat and slowly placed it on the table, that permanent knot in his stomach felt like a rope pulled taut. To avoid the pain, he could get up and walk away like he always did. But he couldn’t do that anymore or soon that rope would choke him to death.

  He swallowed to ease the knot. “Zach wanted to go and it was a party for twelve-year-olds. Kim and I thought it would be safe.”

  “But it wasn’t, was it?”

  Unable to sit any longer, he stood and jammed both hands through his hair, losing control. “No. I killed him because I didn’t check out the situation. Does that make you feel better?”

  Jock hung his head.

  “I will feel the guilt of his death every day of my life, but I’m not going to sit by and watch you drink yourself to death. You and I are left to face this world so let’s do it the best way we can. Without arguing—like Zach would want.”

  “Zach never liked it when you and I argued.” Jock brushed hair out of his eyes.

  “No,” Wade agreed. “He loved us both.”

  “Yeah. He was a good kid. I just don’t see why those boys didn’t get jail time.”

  Wade took his seat again, suddenly feeling a relief to be able to talk about his son. “I tried everything I could, but they were twelve years old. They’re on probation until they’re twenty-one and their activities are monitored. That’s all the court would do.”

  That still rankled Wade, but he’d learned to live with it the best way he could.

  An awkward silence followed.

  “Pop, there’s a kid in town who wants to ride a horse. Lucky needs to be ridden and—”

  Jock stumbled to his feet. “Nobody rides that horse. Nobody.”

  Jock hobbled away and Wade buried his face in his hands. Was life always going to be like this? He’d had just about his limit. From out of nowhere, Callie Austin’s face appeared in his mind and he wondered why he could see it so clearly.

  THE NEXT MORNING, Callie woke up to noise and she scrambled from her bag into her clothes. She heard the pounding of a hammer, the whiz of a saw, the buzz of a mower and voices—several voices.

  “What’s that?” Adam asked, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

  “I’ll check. Stay with your sisters.”

  Callie opened her front door and stopped short. People were everywhere and she didn’t know any of them. Two men were working on the picket fence, another was mowing the grass. Several men were working on the roof and the column. Odell stepped up on the porch with a tool belt that looked bigger than him around his waist.

  “Odell, what’s going on?”

  “You told me to fix up the place and that’s what I’m doing.”

  “I’m paying for all these people?”

  “No, ma’am. The guy mowing is Walter and he’s retired and just likes to mow. He helps out the new residents—sort of makes them feel welcome. That’s Delbert and his son, Little Del, working on the fence. They help out when they can and they owe me a favor. And the men working on the house I hired so I can do the job as quickly as possible. That’s what you wanted, right?”

  “Yes,” she answered absently, realizing for the first time that no one ever said their last name. Everybody knew everybody, Wade had said, so she supposed there was no need, except she didn’t know anyone. It would help to know a last name, especially if it was Collins.

  “We’ll have the column and porches secured by the end of the day then I can start on the inside.”

  “Thank you, Odell,” she said, feeling as if she were in a trance as she went back into the house. Wade had said the people were friendly and he was right. Maybe a little too friendly. No one did anything for free, did they? She was budgeting her money and she had to be careful so that it lasted a year.

  THE DAYS THAT FOLLOWED were busy and hectic and she became more familiar with the town and its people. The kids absolutely loved Tanner’s General Store, where anything from beef jerky to toys to large jars of assorted hard candies could be found. Then there were barrels stuffed with gourmet treats. Adam went for the pickle jar while the girls debated over the candy. Callie favored the food area where the meat and produce were fresh and the best she’d ever seen. She missed cooking, but knew it would be awhile before her kitchen was ready. They were making do with a hot plate and that limited what they could eat.

  She found there were very few good places to eat in Homestead. There was a kolache shop, a Dairy Queen and the Lone Wolf Bar. She was told that no self-respecting woman would be caught dead in there. Then there was a barbecue place and small diner that looked as bad as the Lone Wolf. That’s when the idea had come to Callie. She couldn’t take a whole year without cooking, so she decided to open a café.

  At first the idea seemed crazy since she wasn’t planning on staying in Homestead. But repairing the house was going to take a lot of money and she needed a way to earn an income. She didn’t want her savings to dwindle down to nothing. And cooking was what she did.

  A decent place to eat would be good for the town and it would keep her busy, keep her from constantly worrying. The right side of the house would work for the café. Frances Haase had explained that in the old days, the Victorian house had been built to accommodate the entertainment of men and women. There hadn’t been much to do besides go to a local bar and the upstanding citizens hadn’t done that—or if they had, no one had ever spoken of it. Instead, they’d entertained in their homes.

  The right parlor was where the men had gathered with their cronies to play poker or cards and to smoke cigars and indulge in their drink of choice. In the left parlor, the women had had their side to gather with friends to knit, crochet or quilt and to imbibe a drink if they so chose without their husband’s permission. Large sliding doors were in a pocket of the wall on each side of the entry and could easily be pulled for privacy.

  Each area had access to the kitchen, which made Callie’s idea perfect. With the bedrooms upstairs and the parlors and dining room downstairs, the left side would be their home. Callie became excited with her plans for the kitchen and the café. She talked with Odell and he seemed to be able to do everything she wanted. For once, something else occupied her mind besides fear.

  The kids were helping with the cleanup and they were more energetic. Odell had redone the staircase to make sure it was safe and the kids had chosen their rooms upstairs. Although, Callie suspected Mary Beth and Brit wouldn’t sleep in their own room for a while—even Adam, for that fact. But it was okay. They were safe for now.

  Buddy and Rascal were regular visitors and while Mary Beth played with Rascal, Buddy helped on the house. One day she made fresh lemonade for all the workers. Del sat in one of the rockers taking a break.

  “Mighty good lemonade,” he said.

  “Thank you.” Callie thought for a minute then asked, “I don’t believe I caught your last name?”

  “My last name?” Del sat rigidly straight and Callie knew she’d made a big mistake. Del was offended.

  “I’m sorry, but I’m new in town and I don’t know anyone and no one says their last name.”

  He carefully placed his glass on a small table. “There’s a reason for that. Around here we all know and trust each other.” He rose to his full height, his chest puffed out. “But if it’ll ease your mind, my name is Delbert Brockmoor.”

  “Thank you, Del.”

  Del went back to work and Callie felt
as if she’d committed a faux pas. Buddy walked onto the porch for a glass of lemonade. “Somethin’ wrong?”

  “I think I hurt Del’s feelings.”

  “How’d you do that?”

  “By asking his last name.”

  “Oh.”

  She turned to Buddy, needing an answer once and for all. “Do you know any Collinses that live here?”

  Buddy took a long drink of the lemonade. “Nope, can’t say that I do.”

  Callie’s heart sank. But she’d keep asking until she found someone who knew her father or her grandparents. She’d definitely use more discretion, though.

  “I noticed the tires on your Suburban and it’s time to replace ’em. If it’s okay, I’ll order ’em and put ’em on. Oil probably needs checking, too. Women tend to forget that.”

  She smiled at Buddy. “Go ahead. I haven’t even thought about the tires or oil.”

  “Consider it done.”

  Wade was right. The people were helpful and friendly. It reaffirmed her decision to come to Texas.

  CALLIE HAD CLEANED THE TUB upstairs and was happy that under all the grime the porcelain was still in good shape. Next were the filthy windows. She was busy cleaning them in a parlor when someone knocked on the door. The kids were wiping dust from the baseboards.

  “I’ll get it,” she said, thinking it was Ethel, but Ethel never knocked. She just came in, usually with a cigarette in her mouth. From day one, Callie had made it clear that smoking was not acceptable in the house or around the children. Ethel was a good sport about extinguishing the cigarette.

  Opening the door, she found an attractive couple with a boy who looked to be around eight or nine. He had bright auburn hair and a big smile.

  “Hi,” the woman said. “I’m Kristin Gallagher and this is my husband, Ryan.” She stroked the boy’s head. “And this is my son, Cody.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Callie shook their hands.

  “I’m the physician’s assistant at the small health clinic. With three kids, I thought you might like to know that.”

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  “My mom said you got kids I can play with,” Cody spoke up.

  Brit walked up before Callie could answer.

  “She’s a girl,” Cody said to his mother.

  “Cody…”

  “You’re a boy,” Brit answered before the adults could intervene.

  “I don’t like girls.”

  “Well, I’m not crazy about boys, either.” Brit put her hands on her hips for effect.

  Adam joined the group. After being introduced he asked, “Want to go outside and play? And don’t worry about Brit. She’s almost like a boy.”

  Brit’s face creased into one big frown. “I am not. I’m going to be a cowgirl—not a cowboy.”

  “Cool,” Cody beamed. “I like horses, too. Can I stay?” Cody glanced at his mother.

  “No. I have to go to the clinic.” Kristin smoothed his hair. “Maybe another day.”

  “Ah, Mom. Hayden and Sara are on vacation and—”

  Ryan came to the rescue. “I have some errands to run in town. I can pick Cody up in about an hour if that’s okay with Callie.”

  “Sure. The kids need a break.”

  “Are you sure?” Kristin asked. “You’re so busy with the house and I must say it’s looking very nice.”

  “Thank you. You’re the first person to say that. Everyone else thinks I’m a lunatic for taking on this big house.”

  “But I love it.”

  “I do, too.” In that moment, Callie knew she’d found a friend. “And no, it’s no problem for Cody to stay. The kids are bored with all the cleaning.”

  “Okay.” Before the word left Kristin’s mouth, Cody darted into the house and stood between Adam and Brit.

  “I’ll be back in a little while,” Ryan called as the couple walked off.

  The kids played outside for a while, then they played games in the dining room. Mary Beth was feeling left out and trailed behind Callie. Callie told her to show Cody her fish and that did the trick. They lay on the floor watching Fred swim around, talking about fish. She could hear some big tales being told.

  There was another knock at the door and Callie put her rag down and went to see who it was. A tall, blond, good-looking man in boots stood there.

  He held out his hand with a smile. “Mrs. Austin, I’m Father Noah Kelley from St. Mark’s Episcopal Church.”

  She blinked in confusion. “Excuse me?” He didn’t look like any priest she’d ever seen and he didn’t wear a collar.

  “I’m Father Noah Kelley.” His smile broadened. “My dad is the rector at St. Mark’s. He had a stroke and I’m filling in.” Shaking her hand, he added, “Please call me Noah. I came by to invite you and your children to Sunday services, and of course, the children are always welcome to join our Sunday school classes.”

  “Oh. Thank you. But as you can see—” her hand swept around the place “—I have so much to do.”

  “There’s always time for God, Mrs. Austin.”

  Callie was duly chastised and felt color tinge her cheeks. “Please call me Callie, and I will try to make time.”

  The children’s laughter echoed from the parlor.

  “Do you mind if I speak with the children?” Noah asked.

  “Ah…no.” Stepping aside, she watched as he walked into the parlor and sat on the floor with the kids. She could see that he had a way with children. They were laughing and talking as if he were one of them.

  When Noah left, he called, “See you Sunday, Mrs…. Callie.”

  “Bye, Fath…Noah.” It would take a while before she was comfortable with calling a priest by his first name. But then, she had a feeling Noah was going to be easy to know. The kids missed going to church, so she just might take him up on his offer. Staying out of the limelight didn’t seem to be an option here in Homestead.

  Ethel arrived and Callie continued with the cleaning. It seemed like no time at all had passed by the time Ryan came back. Cody wasn’t ready to leave, but he went meekly, promising to return soon.

  At the door, Ryan paused, “My father is Clint Gallagher, a state senator, and he’s not real pleased with the Home Free Program. So if he gives you any flak, don’t pay him any attention. His bark is worse than his bite.”

  “Thanks for the warning. I’d heard there were some disgruntled people in town.”

  “For the record, I’m for the program. It brought Kristin back into my life.”

  “Oh?”

  He grinned, looking a little embarrassed. “It’s a long story and Kristin’ll probably tell you.”

  Ryan was obviously a man who didn’t like to talk, especially about intimate things. But he couldn’t hide the love in his eyes and Callie knew a lot of good was coming from the land giveaway. The last thing she needed, though, was a state senator breathing down her neck. She’d have to be very careful.

  Callie went back to work thinking love was a wonderful thing. Catching sight of Brit, she stopped. Her sister was staring out the window at the street. Callie knew who she was looking for. Wade.

  Wade had stayed away and Brit had asked about him every day. He’d promised her a ride on a horse and she wasn’t forgetting that, as Callie had thought she would. Seeing Brit so disappointed was disheartening. Soon she’d have to do something, but making friends with Wade was not a great idea. And she didn’t know why she thought about him constantly.

  She remembered the love and the hurt in his voice when he’d talked about his son. Wade had an inner compassion that was hard to resist. Her instincts were telling her to stay away from the sheriff. Her heart was telling her something entirely different. But then, what did her heart know? It had taken so many knocks lately that she was sure it was malfunctioning.

  Ethel was cleaning the woodwork and Callie went to find her, leaving Brit to her own devices. She’d find a way to make her dream come true.

  “Odell says you’re going to open a café here,” Ethel said,
straightening from her stooped position over the baseboards.

  “Yes, I am.”

  Ethel frowned. “Do you know how to cook?”

  Callie paused in her sweep across a window. “Yes. Actually I went to school to learn.”

  “Went to school?” Ethel’s voice rose. “Well, don’t that take the biscuit. Never heard of such a thing. I learned to cook as soon as I could hold a spoon in my hand and stir. My daughters learned the same way. All nine of ’em, Edith Mae, Etta Mae, Erma Mae, Emma Mae, Earla Mae, Eva Mae, Ella Mae, Essie Mae and Eloise Mae.”

  Callie gaped at her. “Your girls have the same middle name and their first names start with an E?”

  “Sure do. Easier to remember ’em that way.”

  “But isn’t it confusing?”

  “Sometimes, but when they’re all home I just shout Mae and they all come running.”

  A smile tugged at Callie’s mouth. She could imagine that. When Ethel hollered in high-throttle sewing-machine mode, everyone had a tendency to run—in the opposite direction.

  Callie rinsed a rag in warm water. “Please tell me Odell’s middle name is not Mae.

  “Of course not. He’s named after his father, Odell Willard—everyone called him Willie. I went through ten births to give that man a son and what does he do? Up and dies on me. No warning, no nothing.” She snapped her fingers. “Just like that, he’s gone and I’m left to raise ten kids alone.”

  “That had to have been hard.”

  “Wasn’t easy, but my girls started working as soon as they could and they’re all married and have good jobs, except none of them live here. Got a couple in San Antonio, but it’s just me and Odell now.” Ethel surveyed the cobwebs on the ceiling. “We’ll need a ladder to get up there.”

  “Yeah.” Callie followed her gaze. “I’ll borrow one from Odell.”

  “Why did you have to go to school to learn to cook?” Ethel returned to their former conversation. “Didn’t you have a mother?”

  Callie inhaled deeply. “Yes, I had a mother and I learned to cook at an early age, too. It’s something I’ve always loved to do and I had a neighbor who taught me a lot. But I went to culinary school so I could learn the skills of being an executive chef in a fine restaurant.”