TEXAS BORN

by Diana Palmer - LONG TALL TEXANS 46 - TEXAS BORN

  “She doesn’t own a single one, honest.”

  “Make her mad,” he invited. “Then stand back and watch the broom and the pointy hat suddenly appear.”

  “You’d like her if you got to know her,” Michelle replied.

  “No, thank you. No room in my life for a woman who shares her barn with flying monkeys.”

  * * *

  Michelle and Minette laughed all the way back to the office.

  “Oh, what Sara’s missing,” Minette said, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes. “He’s one of a kind.”

  “He really is.”

  “I wish I could tell her what he said. I wouldn’t dare. She’s already scored a limousine driver. I expect she could strip the skin off Wofford Patterson at ten paces.”

  “A limousine?”

  Michelle nodded. “The driver was texting someone at the wheel and almost wrecked the car. She reported him to the agency that sent him.”

  “Good for her,” Minette said grimly. “There was a wreck a few months ago. A girl was texting a girlfriend and lost control of the car she was driving. She killed a ten-year-old boy and his grandmother who were walking on the side of the road.”

  “I remember that,” Michelle said. “It was so tragic.”

  “It’s still tragic. The girl is in jail, pending trial. It’s going to be very hard on her parents, as well as those of the little boy.”

  “You have sympathy for the girl’s parents?” Michelle ventured.

  “When you work in this business for a while, you’ll learn that there really are two sides to every story. Normal people can do something impulsive and wrong and end up serving a life term. Many people in jail are just like you and me,” she continued. “Except they have less control of themselves. One story I covered, a young man had an argument with his friend while he was skinning a deer they’d just killed in the woods. Impulsively, he stabbed his friend with the knife. He cried at his trial. He didn’t mean to do it. He had one second of insanity and it destroyed his life. But he was a good boy. Never hurt an animal, never skipped school, never did anything bad in his life. Then he killed his best friend on an impulse that he regretted immediately.”

  “I never thought of it like that,” Michelle said, dazed.

  “Convicted felons have families,” she pointed out. “Most of them are as normal as people can be. They go to church, give to charity, help their neighbors, raise good children. They have a child do something stupid and land in jail. They’re not monsters. Although I must confess I’ve seen a few parents who should be sitting in jail.” She shook her head. “People are fascinating to me, after all these years.” She smiled. “You’ll find that’s true for you, as well.”

  Michelle leaned back. “Well, I’ve learned something. I’ve always been afraid of people in jail, especially when they work on the roadways picking up trash.”

  “They’re just scared kids, mostly,” Minette replied. “There are some bad ones. But you won’t see them out on the highways. Only the trusted ones get to do that sort of work.”

  “The world is a strange place.”

  “It’s stranger than you know.” Minette chuckled. She pulled up in front of the newspaper office. “Now, let’s get those photos uploaded and cropped and into the galleys.”

  “You bet, boss,” Michelle said with a grin. “Thanks for the ride, too.”

  “You need to learn to drive,” Minette said.

  “For that, you need a car.”

  “Roberta had one. I’ll talk to Blake Kemp. He’s our district attorney, but he’s also a practicing attorney. We’ll get him going on probate for you.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Meanwhile, ask Gabriel about teaching you. He’s very experienced with cars.”

  “Okay,” she replied. “I’ll ask him.” It didn’t occur to her to wonder how Minette knew he was experienced with cars.

  Seven

  “No, no, no!” Gabriel said through gritted teeth. “Michelle, if you want to look at the landscape, for God’s sake, stop and get out of the car first!”

  She bit her lower lip. “Sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.”

  The truck, his truck, was an inch away from going into a deep ditch.

  “Put it in Reverse, and back up slowly,” he instructed, forcing his voice to seem calm.

  “Okay.” She did as instructed, then put it in gear, and went forward very slowly. “How’s this?”

  “Better,” he said. He drew in a breath. “I don’t understand why your father never taught you.”

  Mention of her father made her sad. “He was too busy at first and then too sick,” she said, her voice strained. “I wanted to learn, but I didn’t pester him.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said deeply. “I brought back sad memories for you.”

  She managed a faint smile. “It’s still not that long since he, well, since he was gone,” she replied. She couldn’t bring herself to say “died.” It was too harsh a word. She concentrated on the road. “This is a lot harder than it looks,” she said. She glanced up in the rearview mirror. “Oh, darn.”

  He glanced behind them. A car was speeding toward them, coming up fast. The road was straight and clear, however. “Just drive,” he told her. “He’s got plenty of room to pass if he wants to.”

  “Okay.”

  The driver slowed down suddenly, pulled around them and gave her a sign that made her flush.

  “And that was damned well uncalled for,” Gabriel said shortly. He pulled out his cell phone, called the state highway police, gave them the license plate number and offered to press charges if they caught the man. “She’s barely eighteen and trying to learn to drive,” he told the officer he was speaking to. “The road was clear, he had room to pass. He was just being a jerk because she was female.”

  He listened, then chuckled. “I totally agree. Thanks.”

  He closed the cell phone. “They’re going to look for him.”

  “I hope they explain manners to him. So many people seem to grow up without any these days,” she sighed. She glanced at her companion. It had made him really angry, that other man’s rudeness.

  He caught her staring. “Watch the road.”

  “Sorry.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I was just...well, it was nice of you, to care that someone insulted me.”

  “Nobody’s picking on you while I’m around,” he said with feeling.

  She barely turned her head and met his searching black eyes. Her heart went wild. Her hands felt like ice on the wheel. She could barely get her breath.

  “Stop that,” he muttered, turning his head away. “You’ll kill us both.”

  She cleared her throat. “Okay.”

  He drew in a breath. “You may be the death of me, anyway,” he mused, giving her a covert glance. She was very pretty, with her blond hair long, around her shoulders, with that creamy complexion and those soft gray eyes. He didn’t dare pay too much attention. But when she was fully grown, she was going to break hearts. His jaw tautened. He didn’t like to think about that, for some reason.

  “Now make a left turn onto the next road. Give the signal,” he directed. “That’s right. Look both ways. Good. Very good.”

  She grinned. “This is fun.”

  “No, fun is when you streak down the interstate at a hundred and twenty and nobody sees you. That’s fun.”

  “You didn’t!” she gasped.

  He shrugged. “Jags like to run. They purr when you pile on the gas.”

  “They do not.”

  “You’ll see.” He smiled to himself. He already had plans for her graduation day. He and Sara had planned it very well. It was only a couple of months away. He glanced at his companion. She was going to be absolutely stun
ned when she knew what they had in mind.

  * * *

  The piece on Wofford Patterson ran with Michelle’s byline, along with photos of his native grasses, his water conservation project and his huge bull. People she didn’t even know at school stopped her in the hall to talk to her. And not only other students. Teachers paid her more attention, as well. She felt like a minor celebrity.

  “I actually had someone to sit with at lunch,” she told Sara, all enthusiasm, when she got home from school that day. “Mostly I’m always by myself. But one little article in the paper with my name and just look!”

  Sara managed a smile. “It was well written. You did a good job. Considering the material you had to work with,” she added with smoldering black eyes.

  Then Michelle remembered. Wofford Patterson. Mortal enemy. Sara’s nemesis.

  “Sorry,” she said, flushing.

  “The man is a total lunatic,” Sara muttered, slamming pans around as she looked for something to boil pasta in. Her beautiful complexion was flushed. “He backed into me and tried to blame me for it! Then he said I rode a broom and kept flying monkeys in the barn!”

  Michelle almost bit through her lower lip. She couldn’t laugh. She couldn’t laugh...

  Sara glanced at her, rolled her eyes, and dragged out a big pot. “You like him, I gather?”

  “Well, he didn’t accuse me of keeping flying monkeys,” Michelle said reasonably. “He’s very handsome, in a rough-cut sort of way, and he loves animals.”

  “Probably because he is one,” Sara said under her breath.

  “He has this huge rottweiler. You wouldn’t believe what he calls her!”

  “Have you seen my hammer?” Gabriel interrupted suddenly.

  Both women turned.

  “Don’t you keep it in the toolbox?” Michelle asked.

  “Yes. Where’s my toolbox?” he amended.

  The two women looked at each other blankly. Then Sara flushed.

  “I, uh, had to find a pair of pliers to turn the water spigot on outside. Not my fault,” she added. “You have big hands and when you turn the water off, I can’t turn it back on. I took the whole toolbox with me so I’d have access to whatever I needed.”

  “No problem. But where is it?” Gabriel added.

  “Um,” Sara frowned. “I think I remember...just a sec.” She headed out the back door.

  “Don’t, for God’s sake, tell her the name of Patterson’s dog!” Gabriel said in a rough whisper.

  She stared at him. “Why?”

  He gave her a speaking look. “Who do you think Patterson’s unknown buddy in World of Warcraft is?” he asked patiently.

  Her eyes widened with glee. “You mean, they’re buddies online and they don’t know it?”

  “In a nutshell.” He grinned. “Two lonely people who can’t stand each other in person, and they’re soul mates online. Let them keep their illusions, for the time being.”

  “Of course.” She shook her head. “She’d like him if she got to know him.”

  “I know. But first impressions die hard.”

  Sara was back, carrying a beat-up brown toolbox. “Here.” She set it down on the table. “Sorry,” she added sheepishly.

  “I don’t mind if you borrow stuff. Just put it back, please.” He chuckled.

  She shrugged. “Sometimes I do. I’m just scatterbrained.”

  “Listen,” he said, kissing the top of her head, “nobody who speaks six languages fluently could even remotely be called scatterbrained. You just have a lot on your mind all the time.”

  “What a nice way to put it. No wonder you’re my favorite brother!”

  He gave Michelle a droll look.

  “Well, if I had other brothers, you’d still be my favorite,” Sara amended.

  “Are we going to drive some more today?” Michelle asked him hopefully.

  “Maybe tomorrow,” he said after a minute. He forced a smile. He left, quickly.

  Michelle sighed. “I can’t follow orders,” she explained while Sara put water on to boil and got out spaghetti.

  “He’s just impatient,” Sara replied. “He always was, even when we were kids.” She shook her head. “Some habits you never grow out of.”

  Michelle knew a lot about Sara, and her childhood. But she was too kindhearted to mention any of what Gabriel had told her. She just smiled and asked what she could do to help.

  * * *

  Graduation was only days away. So much had happened to Michelle that she could hardly believe how quickly the time had gone by. Marist College had accepted her, just as Gabriel had told her. She was scheduled for orientation in August, and she’d already had a conversation online with her faculty advisor.

  “I’m so excited,” she told Gabriel. They were sitting on the front porch, watching a meteor shower. There were a couple of fireballs, colorful and rare. “I’ll be in college. I can’t believe it.”

  He smiled. “You’ll grow. College changes people. You see the world in a different way when you’ve studied courses like Western Civilization and math.”

  “I’m not looking forward to the math,” she sighed. “People say college trig is a nightmare.”

  “Only if you don’t have a tutor.”

  “But I don’t...”

  He glanced down at her. “I made straight A’s.”

  “Oh.” She grinned. “Okay. Thanks in advance.”

  He stretched. “No problem. Maybe you’ll do better at math than you do at driving.”

  She thumped his arm. “Stop that. I can drive.”

  “Sort of.”

  “It takes practice,” she reminded him. “How can I practice if you’re always too busy to ride in the truck with me?”

  “You could ask Sara,” he pointed out.

  She glowered at him. “I did.”

  “And?”

  “She’s always got something ready to cook.” She pursed her lips. “In fact, she has pots and pans lined up, ready, in case I look like I’m even planning to ask her to ride with me.” Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “I have reason to believe you’ve been filling her head with irrelevant facts about how many times I’ve run into ditches.”

  “Lies.”

  “It was only one ditch,” she pointed out.

  “That reminds me.” He pulled out his cell phone and checked a text message. He nodded. “I have a professional driving instructor coming out to work with you, starting Saturday afternoon.”

  “Coward,” she accused.

  He grinned. “I don’t teach.”

  “I thought you were doing very well, except for the nonstop cursing.”

  “I thought you were doing well, except for the nonstop near accidents.”

  She threw up her hands and sighed. “Okay. Just push me off onto some total stranger who’ll have a heart attack if I miss a turn. His family will sue us and we’ll end up walking everywhere...”

  He held up a hand. “I won’t change my mind. I can’t teach you how to drive with any efficiency. These people have been doing it for a long time.”

  She gave in. “Okay. I’ll give it a shot.” She looked up at him. “You and Sara are coming to graduation, aren’t you?”

  He smiled down at her. “I wouldn’t miss it for the whole world, ma belle.”

  Her heart jumped up into her throat. She could walk on air, because Gabriel teased her in that deep, soft tone that he used only with her.

  He touched her long hair gently. “You’re almost grown. Just a few more years.”

  “I’m eighteen.”

  He let go of her hair. “I know.” He turned away. She was eighteen years old. Years too young for what he was thinking of. He had to let her go, let her grow, let her mature. He couldn’t hold her back out of
selfishness. In a few years, when she was through college, when she had a good job, when she could stand alone—then, yes, perhaps. Perhaps.

  “You’re very introspective tonight,” she remarked.

  “Am I?” He chuckled. “I was thinking about cows.”

  “Cows?”

  “It’s a clear night. If a UFO were to abduct a cow, we would probably see it.”

  “How exciting! Let’s go looking for them. I’ll drive!”

  “Not on your life, and don’t you have homework? Finals are coming up, I believe?”

  She made a face. “Yes, they are, and I can’t afford to make a bad grade.” She glanced at him. “Spoilsport.”

  He shrugged. “I want you to graduate.”

  She folded her hands on her jeans-clad thighs. “I’ve never told you how much I appreciate all you and Sara have done for me,” she said quietly. “I owe you so much...”

  “Stop that. We were happy to help.”

  It had just occurred to her that she was going away, very soon, to college. She was going to live in the dormitory there. She wouldn’t live with Sara and Gabriel again. Her holidays would be spent with fellow students, if anyone even stayed on campus—didn’t the campus close for holidays?

  “I can see the wheels turning,” he mused, glancing down at her. “You’ll come to us for holidays and vacations,” he said. “Sara and I will be here. At least until you’re through college. Okay?”

  “But Sara has a place in Wyoming—” she began.

  “We have a place in Wyoming, and we have a competent manager in charge of it,” he interrupted. “Besides, she likes it here in Texas.”

  “I did notice she was up very late last night on the computer,” she said under her breath.

  “New expansion on her game,” he whispered. “She and her unknown pal are running battlegrounds together. She’s very excited.”

  Michelle laughed softly. “We should probably tell her.”

  “No way. It’s the first time I’ve seen her happy, really happy, in many years,” he said wistfully. “Dreams are precious. Let her keep them.”

  “I suppose it won’t hurt,” she replied. “But she’s not getting a lot of sleep.”