“Of course, my father still has friends, people he worked with for years inside the industry. Why, Joe Mueller, the man who flew my mother here from Rusted Spur, worked with Dad for years on—”
“I don’t doubt it for a minute. And we have no way of knowing what this supposed altercation could’ve been about or if your dad was even around for it, much less somehow involved—or if any of it has something to do with your father’s future in politics.”
“We don’t even know my father has any kind of future.”
“Maybe the wrong people were worried they’d be cut out of a deal. Because that blowup at the hotel—it could’ve been about—”
“You’re grasping at straws again,” Nate said, “but I do have a good idea of a guy who might be able to shine some light on this, at least if I can twist his arm enough to tell me the whole story.”
He reached for his phone, which he’d left charging beside the lamp.
“Nate, it’s not even five o’clock yet,” she reminded him, thinking that people awakened from a sound sleep might not be inclined to be helpful.
“The truth’s way too important to worry over interrupting Joe’s sleep.”
They both jumped as Nate’s phone rang, their muscles tensing with the expectation of bad news.
Chapter 10
As the cell continued ringing, more adrenaline shot through Nate’s bloodstream. But it was nothing compared to the guilt he felt for even considering the possibility that the father he knew and loved could be nothing but another schemer out to claw his way to power.
“Answer, Nate,” urged April. “It could be Brady.”
She was right, he realized. Seeing that the caller ID read Trencher Co. Sheriff Dept., he picked up.
“What’s up, Brady?” Nate said, knowing that his friend would never have called at this hour unless the matter was urgent.
“This is Deputy Wilhite. Sheriff asked me to call and fill you in.”
“What’s happened? Is everyone all right?” Remembering Brady’s worry about protecting the woman he’d once—and still might—love, Nate asked, “Is Kara safe?”
“They’re both going to be fine,” Wilhite said, “but I can’t say the same for Dennis Cobb.”
“You caught Cobb?”
At Nate’s mention of the shooter’s name, he felt April’s nails dig into his arm. She was sitting close beside him, her nude body stiff and chilly, judging from her goose bumps.
As Deputy Wilhite explained the situation, he tugged the bedcovers higher to wrap them around her.
“Well, that part’s bad news,” Nate said, “but at least we don’t have to worry about him hurting anyone else.”
He thanked Wilhite and accepted the deputy’s wishes for his father’s recovery.
The moment he ended the call, April asked, “What’s happened?”
“Dennis Cobb is dead,” Nate said. “Wilhite couldn’t give me many details, but apparently, Brady was forced to shoot the man to save Kara’s life.”
“Kara must be terrified.” April’s eyes gleamed with tears. “Is she all right? She wasn’t hurt, was she?”
“She has Brady to look after her. They’ll both be fine.” Eventually, Nate thought, understanding that the use of lethal force was something his friend would take very seriously. Especially since, with Cobb gone, there were still unanswered questions about who had really sent him and what his reason was for wanting April dead.
If Brady was right and April had been the target from the start.
* * *
April rubbed at her arms, worries clogging her throat. But knowing that Dennis Cobb had never left the Rusted Spur area had her dialing back a little on her paranoia.
Still, she wasn’t about to rush over and open the drapes to greet the new day. Even if she were dressed for it, she’d be a fool to take such a chance before Austin PD had Police Detective Frank Vaughn, or whoever was behind the shooting, safely in custody.
Nate looked down at his phone. “I’ve got a text here from my mother. Dad’s out of the ICU and in a private room on the third floor.”
“That’s good news, right?”
“Sure is. She says he woke up briefly, squeezed her hand in answer to her questions. And he’s able to move his legs and feet, too, which tells them the spinal cord was spared.”
“Thank goodness.” April knew Nate’s father wouldn’t be able to speak until the ventilator was removed, but she prayed he would soon be out of danger.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m way too wired for sleep now,” Nate said.
“Me, too.”
“What do you say we get ready and go grab an early breakfast? Then we can relieve Mom and lend her the truck to head back here.”
“Here?” she asked.
“I’ll get her her own room, of course,” Nate said. “She probably won’t come until after the doctors make their morning rounds, though.”
“So there’s time for a shower first?” April asked. Running her gaze over his bare chest, she was tempted to invite him to join her. To make another memory that wouldn’t dissolve with sobriety. But the news about her friends’ ordeal had left her rattled, and the thought of Nate’s mother, alone with his father all night, had her anxious to check on the couple.
Nate stepped into yesterday’s jeans. “You go ahead. I want to make a call, and then I’ll shower and shave, too.”
She looked at him uncertainly, wondering if he still intended to call his father’s friend to question him about the Austin trip. Wondering if he’d be better off with her by his side when facing the possibility that his dad had been in on some shady dealing.
“Go on, April. I can handle this,” he assured her.
Deciding to take him at his word, she gathered clothing for the day and headed for the bathroom to pull herself together. A half hour later, she was dressed in dark jeans and a red sweater. She had taken time to do her hair and makeup, too, leaving her auburn hair shiny and smooth over her shoulders.
“Did you reach your dad’s friend?” she asked.
“Yeah,” Nate said, “for all the good it did me. I’ve known Joe Mueller for a lot of years. Can’t tell you how many times he brought his wife and kids to backyard barbecues at the ranch. But I have no idea whether he was telling me the truth about my dad this morning.”
“So, what did he say?”
“That it was news to him Dad’s been asked to accept the governor’s appointment to the Senate. Said he was blown away to think my old man could’ve kept it from him, of all people. I told him I’d had no idea, either. Probably the governor insisted Dad keep it under his hat, so it didn’t end up getting leaked to the media too early.”
“Did Joe admit your father had met with him and the other private prison executives in Austin?” April asked.
“He claimed they had a few drinks together one night, but it was purely social. Dad’s never tried to second-guess Joe since he bought him out to take over Correctional Solutions.”
April tapped a nail against the dresser top as she thought about it. “What about the fight at the hotel?”
“I asked him about that, if my father was there when it took place. He immediately popped off, ‘When what took place?’ Acting like this was the first time he’d heard of any altercation.”
“You don’t buy it, do you?” she asked.
Nate’s mouth twisted as he pondered. “He really did sound surprised, but then, maybe Joe wasn’t in the room when this thing happened. Or maybe your PI’s source was wrong—they did deny it.”
“Or it could have been no big deal, just a couple of competitors who’d had too much to drink or something,” she admitted.
“We’ll ask my dad ourselves,” Nate said, “as soon as he can talk.”
Though April had her doubts about his father’s ability, much less his willingness, to answer questions on the topic, she said, “That sounds like a good idea,” which seemed to satisfy Nate for the moment.
While he headed off to c
lean up, she decided to test her new phone’s internet capabilities by logging in to her email account. Sighing at the glut of unread messages, she scanned the list, looking for any that seemed important. With so much junk to wade through, however, she ended up deleting message after message.
She clicked on a message from Helping Friends Community, not with any real hope of getting Rory into one of the best group home programs in the state, but because she figured she could quickly dispose of yet another reminder of how rarely openings became available. Instead, she blinked in surprise at what turned out to be a very different sort of message.
Dear Ms. Redding,
In memory of the long board service and fundraising efforts of Martin Villareal, we would like to offer residency to your brother, Rory Redding, at Helping Friends, beginning February 1st.
April raised a hand to cover her mouth, then went on to read that the director felt it was a fitting tribute to Martin’s work to offer a scholarship in his name. Because of the facility’s long waiting list, however, they were going to need an answer by January fifteenth—after a visit from Rory, who would have the final say.
January fifteenth? Her heart beat out a rapid tattoo. That wasn’t nearly enough time to get her brother used to the idea of a trip there, much less to push him toward a decision that would impact the remainder of his life.
And mine, she realized, feeling panic spinning through her. But why was she so afraid when this was what she’d hoped and prayed for: a chance to reclaim the life and work that had once given her so much satisfaction?
A chance to raise the baby on her own in Austin, away from the mess she’d made of her life in Rusted Spur...
Away from Nate and all the Wheelers, if that was still what she wanted.
* * *
On their way to pick up April’s car after breakfast, Nate glanced over to see her staring out the window. “You’ve been awfully quiet. Is anything the matter?”
“Just a little sleepy. I really miss my coffee.”
He slowed his speed, eyes peeled for black ice, though the streets were mostly clear this morning. “I thought the obstetrician said you could have a cup in the morning if you wanted.”
She shook her head and wrinkled her nose. “Maybe I could, but I can’t stand the smell just lately. Must be some weird pregnancy thing.”
He snorted. “Good thing I can’t get pregnant, then. I’d probably go into withdrawal and die.”
She barely smiled, her gaze miles away. Probably still worried over Kara, he thought, or wondering whether Dennis Cobb’s death would put an end to this nightmare. Or if he’d really meant the things he’d told her, or it had only been this crisis pushing them together.
Nate refrained from bringing up the subject again, telling himself that it hadn’t been words that had earlier convinced April of his reluctance to jump into marriage, and it wouldn’t be words that would convince her that he was all-in now. She would have to decide whether or not to take a chance that he was a changed man, a man who wanted her and their son more than he’d ever wanted any championship buckle.
But was his sudden interest in her sparked by the challenge of her unattainability? Hell, no, he told himself. The ground had shifted beneath his feet, with his father’s injury just the latest event that had driven home the things that really mattered in his life.
“I got an email earlier,” she said as the light changed and Nate turned onto the freeway feeder, “concerning Rory’s placement.”
She explained about the Helping Friends Community, telling him about the wonderful family atmosphere, the residents’ chance to work with animals and raise and sell fresh produce at farmers’ markets outside of Austin while working to improve social and life skills. It sounded like a perfect place, tailor-made for Rory...
Yet the more she talked about it, the more the bacon and eggs he had just eaten congealed into an indigestible lump. Because he knew what this might mean for him, knew that if this worked out, April had another viable option. A choice that wouldn’t include him, except in the marginal role of part-time father. The thought of losing her—the woman he had only reluctantly proposed to—made his blood run cold.
“And I’d be able to help with his transition,” April continued, “if I returned to work at the Texas Justice Project—”
“At the same place that almost got your head blown off? There’s no way I’m going to let you—”
“Let me?” she demanded, the look in her eyes a warning.
“I don’t mean—or damn it, maybe I do. Because if anything happened to you, April, to you and the baby—”
“I can’t let one man’s misguided vendetta, or one exonerated man’s crime, cancel out all the good the Texas Justice Project’s done. That’s like saying Martin Villareal’s life’s work meant nothing, like saying all those men and the one woman we proved were wrongly convicted didn’t matter.”
“Of course they matter. All of them, but that doesn’t mean you have to risk your life after everything we’ve been through.”
“So I’m supposed to, what? Hide out forever in Nowhere, Texas, while other people take their chances?”
“But what about your brother? What about staying home and helping him move past his grief at his own pace the way you said you would? Isn’t that important work, too? And what about our—”
“Maybe being stuck in that same house where he watched her die is what’s holding Rory back. Did you ever think of that, Nate? Isn’t the chance at making new friends and having a real sense of purpose, a reason to get up and get moving every morning, better in the long run?”
“Are you talking about Rory or yourself here?” he asked, remembering what she’d said about missing the job she’d called her passion that night they’d sat drinking together. The night he’d acted on an instinct buried so deep beneath the surface that he was only now just beginning to understand that what he’d done—what they’d created—had been no accident. “Because the way I see it, being a good mother to our child and a good sister ought to be enough for any—”
“Are you kidding me?” she blasted back. “What do you know about being a good mother or a good sister? Enough to say there’s one right way for every woman? One way that makes me dependent on your deciding to ‘man up and take your medicine,’ or however it was you put it.”
Nate knew he had said the wrong thing on more than one occasion and was bound to do it again. But when the two of them had made love, he’d been so damned certain he’d forged a connection, a bridge between his thoughtless words and what was in his heart.
“I’ve told you that I loved you,” he said. “Told you in no uncertain terms that I want you and our son both, want us to be a family. But that’s not really the issue here, or the reason you turned tail at the altar, is it? The truth is, you haven’t yet decided whether you think of me as anything more than just a friend. Or whether you just agreed to our marriage in the first place because it was the only real choice that you had.”
“So you’re telling me that if your doctor suddenly called you out of the blue and told you there’s a new procedure that would guarantee you wouldn’t end up a paraplegic, you wouldn’t risk your life—” She made a face that let him know how much she hated the idea. “—going for another shot at the brass ring?”
He flicked on a turn signal to head into the shopping center parking lot and thought it through for a moment, expecting to feel the familiar pull of the bright lights and the big crowds, the adrenaline coursing through his system and the drinking and carousing he’d used to bring himself down from that high.
He thought, too, of holidays far from friends and family, of makeshift celebrations that somehow left him feeling hollow, no matter how loud and boisterous they got.
“No, I wouldn’t,” he said, surprised that the idea didn’t even tempt him. “For one thing, I’ve already caught the brass ring. Now I’m going for a gold band.” Using his thumb, he touched the ring finger of his left hand. “Besides, my parents wer
e there for me through my recovery, and I mean to be there for my father’s, no matter how long it takes. Just like I mean to be there for my son and you—in Rusted Spur, with all of us together. The real question is, what do you want, April, if you had the choice between returning to the life you had as a single mother and moving forward with me?”
He pulled up beside her rental car, one of only a dozen or so vehicles in the parking lot at this time of the morning. Putting the pickup into park, he studied April intently, wanted to grab her hand in his, to shake the doubts out of her. To force her to admit that she loved him as much as he’d come to understand that he loved and needed her.
As the engine idled, she stared up into his face, and then reached up to run a hand along his freshly shaven cheek. “I just want time to think about this, Nate. Time to make sure we’re getting this thing right.”
His memory arced back to the altar, to that moment when she’d turned from him. To the pain of a rejection that had seemed to send his whole life into free fall.
He jerked his head away from her hand, frustration mushrooming into anger.
“Just remember,” he said. “Time’s a finite resource. And so’s my patience, April. You either marry me by Christmas—in front of the hospital chaplain, the justice of the peace, or whoever we can round up—or forget I ever asked.”
She speared him with a look that was every bit as angry. “And here I’d thought your last proposal could not get any worse.”
Chapter 11
By the time she stalked into the hospital lobby, April was still too irritated about Nate’s ultimatum to wait for him to catch up to her. This morning, a group of teenagers stood before the giant tree with their bright eyes and guitar accompanist, their song taunting her with the promise of a holiday filled with peace on earth and good will to men.
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