West Texas Weddings

by Ginger Chambers

  “Last time I saw him he was on his way to Del Norte to do an errand for Mae,” Rafe said.

  Jodie pulled a face. “He hasn’t left yet, has he? I was hoping to get a ride.”

  Sheriff Denton gallantly came to her rescue. “Tate’s going back to Del Norte. Would you like him to give you a ride? You won’t mind, will you, Tate?”

  Jodie’s eyes settled on the younger man. Her lids flickered, then narrowed, and her body seemed to stiffen.

  “Hello, Jodie,” Tate murmured.

  “Hi,” she answered shortly. Then she smiled at the sheriff. “Will I have to ride in back? Or can I share the front seat?”

  “Jodie, you can ride anywhere you want,” the sheriff assured her.

  “Then if it’s okay with Tate, I accept.”

  “Sure,” Tate said. “Why not?”

  Jodie glanced at him suspiciously. Had she picked up on the same offhand “if I must, I must” tone Morgan had? He watched them closely, curious about their relationship.

  “Jim Cleary said to tell you to watch out,” Sheriff Denton said as they all went outside to the parking area.

  “We already are,” Rafe replied.

  Jodie and Tate set off uneasily in his patrol car and the sheriff set off in his, leaving Morgan and Rafe to themselves.

  “I’m tellin’ the men to check the stock more often and to vary the times when they do it,” Morgan said. “We should vary our routine, too. And maybe set up some shifts.”

  Rafe’s lips tightened. “I’ll sure be glad when we get those calves branded and marked. But, like you’ve said before, it’s still damn hard to prove a steak’s been rustled.”

  THE AFTERNOON went by slowly. Fortunately Erin had played so hard in the morning that she’d slept through Christine’s tardy return. And as soon as she awoke, she rushed straight back to Harriet’s to resume the make-believe wedding plans.

  Christine used the time that followed in a fruitless repeat of her earlier search, trying to find Mrs. Tobin’s address. Later she sat restlessly beneath the courtyard trees—until finally she decided to present herself at Rafe’s house and offer what assistance she could to Shannon and Harriet. She’d seen them earlier carrying in more supplies.

  She knocked on the front door, but nobody answered. So she let herself in and followed the sound of music and laughter to the kitchen. The room was something of a shambles, but the new wallpaper looked beautiful, as did the sections of woodwork and cabinets Shannon and Harriet were currently painting. Every window was open both for coolness and to dissipate the fumes.

  “Christine!” Shannon cried, looking up. Her face was aglow with happiness and good humor. She struggled to rise from the floor, paintbrush in hand.

  “No, no, don’t get up,” Christine said.

  Harriet reached to turn off the mariachi music being broadcast from Mexico.

  “And don’t do that, either,” Christine said. “I came to help, not get in the way.”

  Shannon and Harriet looked at each other, then Harriet rooted around in a wooden box and came up with another brush. She held it in front of Christine with formal ceremony. “Your level of skill, miss?” she inquired.

  “Moderate?” Christine guessed.

  Harriet passed her the brush. “Then you’ll fit right in. That’s the same as Shannon and me.”

  “Where would you like me to start?”

  “The pantry?”

  Shannon laughed. “Ooh…that’s bad, Harriet. Give her the worst possible place.”

  Harriet grimaced. “I thought it was worth a try. All right, how about the doorway over here?”

  “I’ll do the pantry. I don’t mind,” Christine volunteered.

  “Maybe you should take a look first. It hasn’t been painted in years.”

  Christine examined it. “I’ll do it.”

  They painted nonstop for the next hour, Christine listening to the other two women’s teasing give-andtake, before Harriet called for a break. “I’d better see what those kids are up to. You’ve heard about the ‘wedding,’ haven’t you?” When Christine nodded, she continued, “I told them to come get me before they start playing with the makeup, but you know how that goes. They forget. If I’m not there to supervise, there’s no telling what they’ll do to each other.”

  After Harriet left, Shannon handed Christine a soda and they went to sit at a small square table that had been moved into the dining room, along with other items from the kitchen. But now, Christine couldn’t relax. Because, when she let herself, she remembered they were Parkers and she wasn’t? Because she remembered why she was being challenged—that they didn’t want to share their wealth? At times, that was becoming easy to forget. In fact, everyone other than Mae was going out of their way to be nice to her and to Erin. Folding her in, almost as if…

  “You probably think I’m crazy, don’t you?” Shannon asked. “I’d think that myself. Not content to have a monster wedding in less than six weeks, I decide to redecorate. But it’s—” she paused “—like my life is starting over again, and I want everything to be fresh and new. Last year.was horrible. The plane crash, losing the people I loved most in the world. I wasn’t sure I wanted to live. Then I came here.”

  “According to Mae’s plan.”

  Shannon smiled wryly. “Yes, she does like to run things. But this time she was right. Rafe is.well, I love him. He loves me. And we’re very happy she did what she did.”

  Christine fingered the condensation beading on the soda can. “What do you think she has planned for Erin and me?”

  “Mae’s really good about zeroing in on the truth of things. Sometimes she’s off on a tangent-wanting things to work out her way, no matter what. But if the truth’s there, she’ll find it and she’ll accept it.”

  “I’m not lying,” Christine said.

  “I never thought you were.”

  “And I didn’t steal anything.”

  “I didn’t think that, either.”

  Christine looked at her. “Why do you believe me?” she asked.

  “A good sixth sense?”

  Harriet returned to finish her section of cabinet, needing to hurry back to her house as soon as she did. “You should see my living room,” she moaned. “Those kids! It’s almost as bad as if it was the real thing. You started it, Shannon, you and Rafe. Why didn’t you elope?”

  “Then you wouldn’t get to be matron of honor. Oh, by the way, how’s the dress coming?”

  “I didn’t know I’d be four months pregnant at the time, that’s how it’s coming. Marie and I are going to be adjusting the waist seams up to the last second. I’m starting to look like a whale already.”

  “You aren’t.”

  “I am! Lord, if this baby is twins, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

  “You’ll have plenty of baby-sitters all hours of the day and night around here. You’ll still be able to write.”

  “Will I?” Harriet demanded, suddenly far more serious than she’d started out. “Mae says I should get my priorities straight. Children are far more important than a hobby. But writing isn’t a hobby to me. It’s important, too.”

  Shannon squeezed Harriet’s hand, and Harriet looked at Christine rather shamefaced. “I’m being overly dramatic. I tend to do that when I’m pregnant. Normally I’m a rock, but when those hormones kick in…”

  “Stop worrying,” Shannon advised. “Just do what you want—like you always do. Write another story and send it to the same publisher. And I’ll bet they publish it, too.”

  “You’ve written a book?” Christine asked.

  “A children’s book—young adult. And it’s not published yet. It won’t be out until next November.”

  “But it’s sold,” Shannon said.

  The front door opened and two sets of boots clomped across the floor, ending up in the kitchen. When Rafe and Morgan came through the doorway, Christine instantly tensed. She hadn’t expected to see Morgan again so soon. She wasn’t prepared.

  “Looks good,�
� Rafe complimented. He smiled at Shannon and kissed her, only reluctantly breaking it off.

  Christine continued to paint the outer facing of the pantry, the finishing touch. Her gaze had already met, then slid away from Morgan’s.

  “I see you have another volunteer,” Rafe said.

  “Thankfully, yes. Christine showed up and was willing, so we put her to work.”

  Christine felt Rafe’s dark gaze survey both her and the work she’d accomplished. He made no comment, merely nodded. But then, considering his position as Mae’s confederate, she didn’t expect more.

  Harriet rinsed her brush and left it soaking in water. “I’ll be back later if I can, Shannon, but I think we just about have this room whipped. Now all that’s left is the dining room, right?”

  “That’s it.”

  As the others continued to talk about an unexpected delay in the shipment of wallpaper for the dining room, Morgan ambled over to where Christine was working and murmured, “A woman of unexpected talents.”

  “Dabbing paint around on woodwork isn’t much of a talent”

  “It is when you do a good job.”

  Christine glanced at the others. Morgan was standing far closer than she liked, and she didn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea. But none of the others had noticed them—yet.

  “It’s a nice thing you’re doing,” he continued, “helping Shannon.”

  “It sprang from pure boredom.”

  “You’re used to a more adventurous life?”

  Christine shrugged. She wished he’d take a step or two back. It wasn’t as if he was looming over her, but even at a moderate distance she could sense the electrical charge of his body. Remember how it felt to be pressed against him, remember the heat of their mutual need.

  Christine straightened, having hurried her last few strokes. “That’s it. I’m done,” she announced.

  Harriet had finally taken her leave, and Rafe and Shannon had been sharing a quiet intimate word. Christine’s statement caused Shannon to look around, and when she did, she flashed a quick smile. “That’s wonderful. Thank you so much, Christine. Another pair of willing hands has really made a difference.”

  Christine rinsed her brush and added it to Harriet’s in the water-filled plastic tub. “Just let me know when I can help again. It—gives me something to do.”

  She sent a faint smile to everyone present, then hurried outdoors.

  She hadn’t expected Morgan to follow, but he caught up with her before she’d taken more than a few steps along the curving drive that led to Mae’s.

  “I have some bad news for you to pass along to Erin,” he said quietly.

  Christine stopped to look at him.

  “Our riding lesson has to be canceled today. Something’s come up I have to see to. I know it’s going to disappoint her, but—”

  “If it can’t be helped, it can’t be helped,” Christine said.

  “Tell her we’ll do it tomorrow.”

  Christine had mixed feelings. On one hand, she was relieved. She wouldn’t have to see him again that evening. On the other, looking at it from Erin’s point of view…“I’ll tell her you’ll give her another lesson when you can. There’s no use setting a date when you aren’t sure. That way she won’t be disappointed again.” When he frowned, she added, “There’s nothing sure about anything, is there? You’re a very busy man. As foreman here you must—”

  “Acting foreman,” he corrected her. “Dad still has the title. I’m not about to take it away from him.”

  “Even though you do the work.”

  “Just tell Erin it’ll be tomorrow. She has my promise.”

  Christine turned away. “For what that’s worth,” she muttered.

  To her surprise she was spun back around. She had never seen Morgan angry before. She had the feeling he seldom was.

  His eyes glittered. “You might come from a place where people have forgotten what it means to give their word, where they’ll lie to you as soon as look at you, but that’s not the way it works out here. That’s not the way my daddy taught me, or his daddy taught him. If I promise to do something, it’ll get done.”

  “You’re not doing it today,” she said. “You told her you would, and you aren’t.”

  “I warned her that ranch business could get in the way. You were there. You heard me.”

  Christine remembered. He had added a caveat.

  “I have to go meet somebody over at—” he began, but Christine broke in.

  “You don’t have to explain. I believe you.”

  His eyes glittered again, then the anger was tamped. “Well, that’s a first,” he proclaimed wryly.

  “I’ll tell her what you said,” Christine told him. She wanted to get away more than ever now. Had to get away.

  This time he let her go without attempting to stop her. But for the life of her Christine couldn’t resist a backward glance once she’d reached Mae’s front porch.

  He stood exactly where she’d left him. Not moving. Just watching her.

  Christine held his gaze for a long second, then, pulse leaping erratically, went indoors.

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHRISTINE COUNLDN’T GO to sleep that night. She tried but it was hopeless. Every time she closed her eyes she started to think about Morgan Hughes. Restlessly she slipped out of bed, went to get a drink of water; adjusted Erin’s covers, then finally stood in the open doorway to the balcony.

  A lonely cricket chirped in the flower bed that fronted the house. Soon another answered. Christine’s brooding gaze fell on the moonlit courtyard. There were so many other things she should be thinking

  about. Such as what was she going to do if she

  couldn’t find Mrs. Tobin? How would she ever be able

  to prove her innocence? And…exactly how far were Abigail and Brendan willing to take their farciful accusation? Would they dare go to the police? Could they set everything up to look as if she’d done it? She wouldn’t put it past them. But then, surely, if it went that far, someone—the police?—would find Mrs. Tobin and learn the truth. They had far greater resources than she did to investigate.

  A movement under the nearest tree in the courtyard caught Christine’s eye. Was it human or animal? Would a coyote be bold enough to enter the compound? An almost primal apprehension caused Christine to freeze, so as not to draw attention to herself. Breathlessly she waited. Then a form emerged from the mottled shade—Jodie!

  Christine stepped over to the balcony railing and half-whispered, half-called her name. Jodie looked up and, upon seeing Christine, changed direction.

  Her hair was beautiful in the moonlight, a milkwashed coppery red. She was dressed as if for day, in jeans and a T-shirt that she’d covered with a jean jacket.

  “What are you doing awake?” Jodie whispered. “Couldn’t you sleep, either?”

  Instinctively Christine liked this oddity in the Parker nest She was young and trying to find her way, and as a consequence refused to condemn before having uncontrovertible proof. “Hang on, will you?” Christine whispered back. “I’ll come down.”

  Jodie grinned and waved, and Christine exchanged her gown and robe for an outfit similar to Jodie’s. Only she substituted a sweater for the jean jacket.

  She crept through the house and onto the front porch. Jodie was waiting near the beginning of the short walkway.

  “Do you know what time it is?” Christine asked softly, conspiratorially.

  “When I came outside, it was twelve-thirty.”

  “It’s one o’clock now.”

  Jodie looked around them. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s get away from the houses.” She led Christine into the courtyard and arranged two lawn chairs closer together. “This is better,” she said. “We won’t wake anyone up out here.”

  “Your Aunt Mae?”

  “Anyone,” Jodie murmured. “Well, Shannon’s okay. She’s not…”

  “A Parker?”

  Jodie grimaced. “It’s not as bad as that. I did
n’t mean—”

  “I think I know what you mean,” Christine interrupted. She looked around at the beauty of the night. Harriet’s flowers—Christine had learned that Harriet was the person responsible for all the gardening around the houses—lent a sweet scent to the air that just about, if not quite, covered the more earthy tang of wild grasses and cattle and cooling ground. “It’s peaceful out here, a place you can think. Somewhere you’d rather not have disturbed by have-tos and shoulds.”

  “Exactly.” Jodie sighed. “You do understand.”

  “I like to find places I can think, too.”

  Jodie tilted her head. “In some kind of weird way you remind me of Shannon. You’re not the same at all, and yet you are. How old are you?” she asked.

  “Twenty-five.”

  “And Erin’s—”

  “She was born when I was seventeen.”

  Jodie gave a low whistle. “I’m eighteen now, and I can’t imagine.” She paused. “Would it be too nosy of me to ask.”

  Christine knew immediately what Jodie wanted to ask. “I considered abortion, and then I considered giving my baby up for adoption,” she said, “but in the end, I couldn’t do either. They weren’t right for me.”

  “Hasn’t it been hard?” Jodie asked, wide-eyed.

  “At times.”

  “Has her father—”

  “I’d rather not talk about that.”

  Jodie instantly recoiled from her own curiosity. “I didn’t mean. I wasn’t asking because the family wants to know. I only—”

  Christine interrupted her stumbling misery. “It’s all right. Really.” She smiled. “I know you didn’t mean anything. I’d be curious, too, if I were you.”