TEXAS BORN

by Diana Palmer - LONG TALL TEXANS 46 - TEXAS BORN

  * * *

  When she turned in the story, she stood gritting her teeth while Minette read it and compared it with her own notes.

  “You really are a natural,” she told the younger woman. “I couldn’t have done better myself. Nice work.”

  “Thank you!”

  “Now go home,” she said. “It’s five, and Carlie will be peeling rubber any minute to get home.”

  Michelle laughed. “I think she may. I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Do I go out to photograph the man tomorrow, too?”

  “Yes.”

  Michelle bit her lip. “But I don’t have a license or own a car...there’s only Roberta’s and she didn’t leave it to me. I don’t think she even had a will...and I can’t ask Carlie to take off from work....” The protests came in small bursts.

  “I’ll drive you out there,” Minette said softly. “We might drop by some of the state and federal offices and I’ll introduce you to my sources.”

  “That sounds very exciting! Thanks!” She sounded relieved, and she was.

  “One more thing,” Minette said.

  “Yes?”

  “I’m printing the conservation story under your own byline.”

  Michelle caught her breath. “My first one. That’s so kind of you.”

  “You’ll have others. This is just the first.” She grinned. “Have a good night.”

  “I will. Sara’s making homemade lasagna. It’s my favorite.”

  “Sara?”

  “Gabriel’s sister. She’s so beautiful.” Michelle shook her head. “The two of them have been lifesavers for me. I didn’t want to have to pick up and move somewhere else. I couldn’t have stayed here to finish school without them.”

  “Not quite true,” Minette replied. “You could have come to us. Even Cash Grier mentioned that they could make room for you, if you needed a place to stay.”

  “So many,” Michelle said, shaking her head. “They hardly know me.”

  “They know you better than you think,” was the reply. “In small communities like ours, there are no secrets. Your good deeds are noted by many.”

  “I guess I lived in the city for too long. Daddy had patients but no real friends, especially after Roberta came into our lives. It was just the three of us.” She smiled. “I love living here.”

  “So do I, and I’ve been here all my life.” She cocked her head. “Gabriel seems an odd choice to be your guardian. He isn’t what you think of as a family man.”

  “He’s not what he seems,” Michelle replied. “He was kind to me when I needed it most.” She made a face. “I was sitting in the middle of the road hoping to get hit by a car. It was the worst day of my life. He took me home with him and talked to me. He made everything better. When Roberta...died...he was there to comfort me. I owe him a lot. He even got Sara down here to live with him so that he could be my legal guardian with no raised eyebrows around us.”

  Minette simply said, “I see.” What she did see, she wasn’t going to share. Apparently Gabriel had a little more than normal interest in this young woman, but he wasn’t going to risk her reputation. It was going to be all by the book. Minette wondered what he had in mind for Michelle when she was a few years older. And she also wondered if Michelle had any idea who Gabriel really was, and how he earned his living. That was a secret she wasn’t going to share, either. Not now.

  “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” Michelle added.

  “Tomorrow.”

  * * *

  Carlie was waiting for her at the front door the next morning, which was Friday. She looked out of breath.

  “Is something wrong?” Michelle asked.

  “No. Of course not. Let’s go.”

  Carlie checked all around the truck and even looked under it before she got behind the wheel and started it.

  “Okay, now, what’s going on?” Michelle asked.

  “Daddy got a phone call earlier,” Carlie said, looking both ways before she pulled carefully out of the driveway.

  “What sort of call?”

  “From some man who said Daddy might think he was out of the woods, but somebody else was coming to pay him a visit, and he’ll never see it coming.” She swallowed. “Daddy told me to check my truck out before I drove it. I forgot, so I looked underneath just in case.” She shook her head. “It’s like a nightmare,” she groaned. “I have no idea in this world why anyone would want to harm a minister.”

  “It’s like our police chief said,” Michelle replied quietly. “There are madmen in the world. I guess you can’t ever understand what motivates them to do the things they do.”

  “I wish things were normal again,” Carlie said in a sad tone. “I hate having to look over my shoulder when I drive and look for bombs under my car.” She glanced at Michelle. “I swear, I feel like I’m living in a combat zone.”

  “I know the feeling, although I’ve never been in any real danger. Not like you.” She smiled. “Don’t you worry. I’ll help you keep a lookout.”

  “Thanks.” She smiled. “It’s nice, having someone to ride with me. These back roads get very lonely.”

  “They do, indeed.” Michelle sighed as she looked out over the barren flat landscape toward the horizon as the car sped along. “I just wrote my first story for the newspaper,” she said with a smile. “And Minette is taking me out to introduce me to people who work for the state and federal government. It’s the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me,” she added, her eyes starry with pleasure. “I get my own byline.” She shook her head. “It really is true...”

  “What’s true?” Carlie asked.

  “My dad said that after every bad experience, something wonderful happens to you. It’s like you pay a price for great happiness.”

  “I see what you mean.” She paused. “I really do.”

  * * *

  Minette drove Michelle out to the Patterson ranch, to take photographs for her story and to see the rancher’s award for conservation management. She also wanted a look at his prize Santa Gertrudis bull. The bull had been featured in a cattle magazine because he was considered one of the finest of his breed, a stud bull whose origins, like all Santa Gertrudis, was the famous King Ranch in Texas. It was a breed native to Texas that had resulted from breeding Shorthorn and Hereford cattle with Brahman cattle. The resulting breed was named for the Spanish land grant where Richard King founded the cattle empire in the nineteenth century: Santa Gertrudis.

  Wofford Patterson was tall, intimidating. He had jet-black hair, thick and straight, and an olive complexion. His eyes, surprisingly, were such a pale blue that they seemed to glitter like Arctic ice. He had big hands and big feet and his face looked as if it had been carved from solid stone. It was angular. Handsome, in its way, but not conventionally handsome.

  There were scars on his hands. Michelle stared at them as she shook his hand, and flushed when she saw his keen, intelligent eyes noting the scrutiny.

  “Sorry,” she said, although she hadn’t voiced her curiosity.

  “I did a stint with the FBI’s Hostage Rescue Team,” he explained, showing her the palms of both big hands. “Souvenirs from many rappels down a long rope from a hovering chopper,” he added with a faint smile. “Even gloves don’t always work.”

  Her lips fell open. This was not what she’d expected when Minette said they’d take pictures of a rancher. This man wasn’t what he appeared to be.

  “No need to look threatened,” he told her, and his pale eyes twinkled as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I don’t have arrest powers anymore.” He scowled. “Have you done something illegal? Is that why you look intimidated?”

  “Oh, no, sir,” she said quickly. “It’s just that I was listening for the sound of helicopters.” She smiled vacantly.

  He
burst out laughing. He glanced at Minette. “I believe you said she was a junior reporter? You didn’t mention that she was nuts, did you?”

  “I am not nuts, I have read of people who witnessed actual alien abductions of innocent cows,” she told him solemnly. But her eyes were twinkling, like his.

  “I haven’t witnessed any,” he replied, “but if I ever do, I’ll phone you to come out and take pictures.”

  “Would you? How kind!” She glanced at Minette, who was grinning from ear to ear. “Now about that conservation award, Mr. Patterson...”

  “Mr. Patterson was my father,” he corrected. “And he was Mister Patterson, with a capital letter. He’s gone now, God rest his soul. He was the only person alive I was really afraid of.” He chuckled. “You can call me Wolf.”

  “Wolf?”

  “Wofford...Wolf,” he said. “They hung that nickname on me while I worked for the Bureau. I have something of a reputation for tracking.”

  “And a bit more,” Minette interrupted, tongue in cheek.

  “Yes, well, but we mustn’t put her off, right?” he asked in return, and he grinned.

  “Right.”

  “Come on and I’ll show you Patterson’s Lone Pine Red Diamond. He won a ‘bull of the year’ award for conformation, and I’m rolling in the green from stud fees. He has nicely marbled fat and large—” he cleared his throat “—assets.”

  Minette glanced at Michelle and shook her head when Wolf wasn’t looking. Michelle interpreted that as an “I’ll tell you later” look.

  The bull had his own stall in the nicest barn Michelle had ever seen. “Wow,” she commented as they walked down the bricked walkway between the neat wooden stalls. There was plenty of ventilation, but it was comfortably warm in here. A tack room in back provided any equipment or medicines that might be needed by the visiting veterinarian for the livestock in the barn.

  There were two cows, hugely pregnant, in two of the stalls and a big rottweiler, black as coal, lying just in front of the tack room door. The animal raised his head at their approach.

  “Down, Hellscream,” he instructed. The dog lay back down, wagging its tail.

  “Hellscream?” Michelle asked.

  He grinned. “I don’t have a social life. Too busy with the bloodstock here. So in my spare time, I play World of Warcraft. The leader of the Horde—the faction that fights the Alliance—is Garrosh Hellscream. I really don’t like him much, so my character joined the rebellion to throw him out. Nevertheless, he is a fierce fighter. So is my girl, there,” he indicated the rottweiler. “Hence, the name.”

  “Winnie Kilraven’s husband is a gaming fanatic,” Minette mused.

  “Kilraven plays Alliance,” Wolf said in a contemptuous tone. “A Paladin, no less.” He pursed his lips. “I killed him in a battleground, doing player versus player. It was very satisfying.” He grinned.

  “I’d love to play, but my husband is addicted to the Western Channel on TV when he’s not in his office being the sheriff,” Minette sighed. “He and the kids watch cartoon movies together, too. I don’t really mind. But gaming sounds like a lot of fun.”

  “Trust me, it is.” Wolf stopped in front of a huge, sleek red-coated bull. “Isn’t he a beaut?” he asked the women, and actually sighed. “I’d let him live in the house, but I fear the carpets would never recover.”

  The women looked at each other. Then he laughed at their expressions, and they relaxed.

  “I read about a woman who kept a chicken inside once,” Michelle said with a bland expression. “I think they had to replace all the carpets, even though she had a chicken diaper.”

  “I’d like to see a cow diaper that worked.” Wolf chuckled.

  “That’s a product nobody is likely to make,” Michelle said.

  “Can we photograph you with the bull?” Michelle asked.

  “Why not?”

  He went into the stall with the bull and laid his long arm around his neck. “Smile, Red, you’re going to be even more famous,” he told the big animal, and smoothed his fur.

  He and the bull turned toward the camera. Michelle took several shots, showing them to Minette as they went along.

  “Nice,” Minette said. She took the digital camera, pulled up the shots, and showed them to Wolf.

  “They’ll do fine,” Wolf replied. “You might want to mention that the barn is as secure as the White House, and anyone who comes here with evil intent will end up in the backseat of a patrol car, handcuffed.” He pursed his lips. “I still have my handcuffs, just in case.”

  “We’ll mention that security is tight.” Minette laughed.

  “He really is a neat bull,” Michelle added. “Thanks for letting us come out and letting us take pictures.”

  He shrugged broad shoulders. “No problem. I’m pretty much available until next week.”

  “What happens next week?” Michelle asked.

  “A World Event on World of Warcraft,” he mused. “The ‘Love Is in the Air’ celebration. It’s a hoot.”

  “A world event?” Michelle asked, curious.

  “We have them for every holiday. It’s a chance for people to observe them in-game. This is the equivalent of Valentine’s Day.” He laughed. “There’s this other player I pal around with. I’m pretty sure she’s a girl. We do battlegrounds together. She gets hung on trees, gets lost, gets killed a lot. I enjoy playing with her.”

  “Why did you say that you think she’s a girl?” Michelle asked.

  “People aren’t what they seem in video games,” he replied. “A lot of the women are actually men. They think of it as playing with a doll, dressing her up and stuff.”

  “What about women, do they play men?” she persisted.

  He laughed. “Probably. I’ve come across a few whose manners were a dead giveaway. Women are mostly nicer than some of the guys.”

  “What class is your Horde character?” Minette broke in.

  “Oh, you know about classes, huh?”

  “Just what I overheard when Kilraven was raving about them to my husband,” she replied, chuckling.

  “I play a Blood Elf death knight,” he said. “Two-handed sword, bad attitude, practically invincible.”

  “What does the woman play?” Michelle asked, curious.

  “A Blood Elf warlock. Warlocks cast spells. Deadliest class there is, besides mages,” he replied. “She’s really good. I’ve often wondered where she lives. Somewhere in Europe, I think, because she’s on late at night, when most people in the States are asleep.”

  “Why are you on so late yourself?” Michelle asked.

  He shrugged. “I have sleep issues.” And for an instant, something in his expression made her think of wounded things looking for shelter. He searched her eyes. “You’re staying with the Brandons, aren’t you?”

  “Well, yes,” she said hesitantly.

  He nodded. “Gabriel’s a good fellow.” His face tautened. “His sister, however, could drop houses on people.”

  She stared at him. “Excuse me?”

  “I was backing out of a parking space at the county courthouse and she came flying around the corner and hit the back end of my truck.” He was almost snarling. “Then she gets out, cussing a blue streak, and says it’s my fault! She was the one speeding!”

  Michelle almost bit her tongue off trying not to say what she was thinking.

  “So your husband—” he nodded to Minette “—comes down the courthouse steps and she’s just charming to him, almost in tears over her poor car, that I hit!” He made a face. “I get hit with a citation for some goldarned thing, and my insurance company has to fix her car and my rates go up.”

  “Was that before or after you called her a broom-riding witch and indicated that she didn’t come from Wyoming at all, but by way of Kansas...?”
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  “Sure, her and the flying monkeys,” he muttered.

  Michelle couldn’t keep from laughing. “I’m sorry,” she defended herself. “It was the flying monkey bit...” She burst out laughing again.

  “Anyway, I politely asked her which way she was going and if she was coming back to town, so I could park my truck somewhere while she was on the road. Set her off again. Then she started cussing me in French. I guess she thought some dumb country hick like me wouldn’t understand her.”

  “What did you do?” Michelle asked.

  He shrugged. “Gave it back to her in fluent and formal French. That made her madder, so she switched to Farsi.” He grinned. “I’m also fluent in that, and I know the slang. She called on the sheriff to arrest me for obscenity, but he said he didn’t speak whatever language we were using so he couldn’t arrest me.” He smiled blithely. “I like your husband,” he told Minette. “He was nice about it, but he sent her on her way. Her parting shot, also in Farsi, was that no woman in North America would be stupid enough to marry a man like me. She said she’d rather remain single forever than to even consider dating someone like me.”

  “What did you say to her then?” Michelle wanted to know.

  “Oh, I thanked her.”

  “What?” Minette burst out.

  He shrugged. “I said that burly masculine women didn’t appeal to me whatsoever, and that I’d like a nice wife who could cook and have babies.”

  “And?” Minette persisted.

  “And she said I wanted a malleable female I could chain to the bed.” He shook his head.

  “What did you say about that?”

  “I said it would be too much trouble to get the stove in there.”

  Michelle almost doubled up laughing. She could picture Sara trying to tie this man up in knots and failing miserably. She wondered if she dared repeat the conversation when she got home.

  Wolf anticipated her. He shook his finger at her. “No carrying tales, either,” he instructed. “You don’t arm the enemy.”

  “But she’s nice,” she protested.

  “Nice. Sure she is. Does she keep her pointed hat in the closet or does she wear it around the house?” he asked pleasantly.