“He’s causing himself problems. He’s an addict. My getting a restraining order won’t cure him of that. His parents would use it against me. I took one son and I’d be taking the other.”
“Took their son? You didn’t take Andy.” He glanced away. “I did.”
“He volunteered for service in Afghanistan because he wanted to get away from me. If not for our divorce, he would still be here.”
He opened his mouth to speak but then shook his head. “You’re wrong.”
She shrugged, unsure of what to say to that. She guessed she knew she was wrong. But right or wrong didn’t change anything. Andy was gone. Jamie would never know her father. A family had lost their son.
“Neither of us can go back,” she finally said. Because she thought they both wrestled with the past. Why else had he been driving by at this hour?
“No,” he agreed. “We can’t.”
They stood there for several long minutes, the only sound the ticking of the clock and the hum of the refrigerator. He cleared his throat and moved away from the counter.
“I have to go. Will you be okay?”
“Of course I’ll be okay.”
Wasn’t she always?
As she walked with him to the front door, she thought about the ten-year-old girl who had lost both parents and had been sent to live with a grandfather she barely knew. On the drive to Houston he’d repeatedly glanced at her and asked if she was okay. Each time she’d nodded to assure him. But each time he refocused on the road she would shut her eyes tight to hide the tears.
After a while she had been okay. They’d moved from Houston to this house. She’d learned to be a farm girl from Braswell, wearing whatever her grandfather thought she needed. Usually jeans, scruffy farm boots and T-shirts.
She could look back now and realize that in time she’d been able to deal and she’d been happy.
Life wasn’t perfect. God hadn’t promised perfection. He’d promised to be with her, to give her strength and peace. She knew there were mountains looming in her near future. She also knew they would get through the tough times. They would survive.
She had to. There was no choice.
Daron stood on the front porch, tall and powerful, a man most women would want to lean on. Just moments ago, she’d been that woman, leaning into his strong arms.
Momentary weakness, she assured herself. For that very reason she managed an easy smile and thanked him for his help. The dismissal seemed to take him by surprise, but he recovered. He touched two fingers to his brow in a relaxed salute, stepped down from the porch and headed down the road to his truck. She watched him leave, then stepped back inside and locked the door.
This time when she leaned against it, closing her eyes as a wave of exhaustion rolled over her, she knew he wouldn’t be coming back.
Chapter Two
The next few days were uneventful and Emma appreciated the calm that followed Pete’s midnight visit. Each morning she fed the cattle with her granddad, then headed to Martin’s Crossing to Duke’s No Bar and Grill to work the lunch shift as a waitress. Lately she’d managed a few extra shifts, which would come in handy with Christmas just around the corner.
She’d only known the Martin family by name before taking the job at Duke’s. The last six months or so, she’d come to appreciate their family. Not only had Duke Martin given her a job, inexperienced as she was, but his sister-in-law, Breezy, had offered to watch Jamie.
Lily, Duke’s daughter, swept into the restaurant on Wednesday afternoon, a big smile on her young face. Emma responded with a smile and a wave. The teenager followed Emma to the waitress station.
“Breezy has Jamie across the street at my mom’s shop. She said she’ll bring her over in a minute. She thinks maybe Jamie isn’t feeling good.”
Emma’s heart sped up a little at that information. They’d been blessed this winter. So far they’d avoided major viruses. That was the goal. And a good reason for having Jamie at Breezy’s, with fewer children around to spread germs. The twin nieces that Jake had gained custody of after his own twin sister’s death were now in preschool. Jake and Breezy had a one-year-old who stayed at home with Breezy.
She recovered, fighting off the moment of panic. “Is she running a fever?”
“Breezy said she isn’t. Mom thought she felt warm.”
“I’ll check her when we get home.” She maintained a smile, to make herself and Lily feel better.
Nedine, Ned for short, Duke’s head waitress and right-hand woman, walked out of the kitchen carrying a tray. The older woman, tall and big-boned, had once explained she’d been named for her dad, Ned. He’d wanted a son but he’d been happy with a daughter.
The older waitress smiled at Duke’s daughter and winked at Emma. “Lily, your daddy said to put you to work when you got here after school. I think you’re going to be my bus girl this evening.”
Lily saluted. “Will do, Ned. Hey, did the twin foals do okay over the weekend?”
Ned’s face split open like sunshine. “They sure did. Prettiest little palominos I ever did see. You’ll have to come out and take a look.”
“I will!” Then Lily returned her full attention to Emma. “Did my mom tell you about the potluck at our church this Sunday?”
The girl reached for the big jug of ketchup and started refilling bottles alongside Emma. Before Emma could answer her, Duke entered the restaurant. He caught sight of his daughter and headed their way.
“Hair in a ponytail, please,” Duke said as he gave her a hug.
Lily responded by digging in her pocket and pulling out a hair band. She pulled her dark hair back in a messy bun and kept working.
“She did tell me,” Emma answered the girl’s question.
“Are you going to be there? I know you go to church in Braswell, but, you know...”
Emma nodded. “Yes, I know. You have someone you want me to meet.”
“Kind of,” Lily admitted. “He’s nice. He works for my dad.”
“I’m sure he’s nice, but I really don’t have time for dating.” Emma blinked away a flash of an image. No! She would not think of Daron McKay and dating in the same thought. She wouldn’t allow his image to startle her that way, coming unbidden to her mind, all concerned and caring the way he’d been last Sunday night. At least she knew it wasn’t Daron who Lily had in mind for her. He didn’t work for Duke.
“Are you okay?” Lily’s shoulder bumped Emma’s, nearly making her drop the ketchup bottle she held. “Oops, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“You didn’t scare me. And I’m fine.” She pulled her phone out of her pocket. “It’s a phone call, that’s all.”
Saved by the bell. She glanced at the caller ID and grimaced. An unknown caller. She didn’t need that. It most likely meant it was Pete or a bill collector or something equally unpleasant. But when the caller left a message she lifted the phone to her ear to listen.
“Oh no,” she whispered as she listened.
Lily stood next to her, eyes wide, ketchup bottle held close to her mouth. Emma took the ketchup bottle from the girl and set it on the counter before reaching into her apron for a pencil. She jotted down notes and ended the call.
“Is everything okay?” Lily, still wide-eyed, asked.
Duke came around the corner. “Lily, why don’t you give Emma room to breathe? There are a couple of tables you can clear.”
Lily moved away, reluctant, with slow steps and a few backward glances. Emma managed a quick smile for the girl before glancing up at her boss. He towered over her at six foot six. With his shaved head and his goatee, he used to intimidate her. Now she knew him to be a gentle soul.
“My grandfather seems to be in custody at the Braswell Police Station,” she explained, still numb.
“I didn’t know Br
aswell had a jail.” Duke took the towel she was wringing the life out of and tossed it on the counter. “Is he okay?”
“Yes, I guess. He ran someone off the road. I guess I’ll know more when I get there.”
“Do you want me to give you a ride or find someone to drive you?” His deep voice rumbled, reassuring her.
“No, I’m good.”
“If you’re sure. But call us later and let us know that you’re okay.”
Emma nodded, still in shock, as she headed out the diner.
* * *
The city police station of Braswell, Texas, was located on Main Street, between the Clip and Curl Salon and the Texas Hill Country Flea Palace, a fancy name for a store that sold everything from secondhand canning jars to old books. Emma parked her old truck in front of the police station and reached over to unlatch the car seat where her daughter, Jamie, dozed, thumb in mouth and blond curls tousled. Her eyes, blue and wide, opened as Emma worked the latch. She grinned around her thumb.
“Hey, kiddo, time to get up. We have to bust Granddad out of this place.”
Jamie giggled, as if she understood. But at three, Jamie understood things like puppies, kittens and newborn calves. She didn’t understand that her favorite person, other than her mommy, was getting older and maybe a little senile. She also didn’t understand bills, the leaking roof or the desperate need to buy hay for winter, which was nipping at their heels in a big way.
The farm her grandfather had bought and moved them to when she’d lost her parents wasn’t a big spread, not by Texas standards. The fifty acres had provided for them, though, supplementing her grandfather’s small retirement. It had been a decent living until her grandfather’s pension had gotten cut, and then they’d had medical bills after Jamie’s birth. Emma had been forced to sell off most of her horses, all but a dozen head of cattle and get a part-time job. The economy and the drought had dealt them a blow the past few years.
All things work together for good, she kept telling herself. All things, even the bad, the difficult, the troubling.
Unbuckled, Jamie reached for Emma and wrapped sweet little arms around her neck. Emma grabbed her purse and reached to open the door of the truck. It was already open, though. Daron McKay was leaning against it, December wind blowing his unruly hair. His dark gray eyes zeroed in on Jamie and he unleashed one of those trademark smiles that might charm a woman, any woman besides Emma. Any woman who had time for romance. If her favorite top wasn’t in the rag pile, stained with throw-up, and if her daily beauty routine consisted of more than a ponytail holder and sunscreen, a woman might give Daron a second look.
But a woman going to bail her grandfather out of the city jail didn’t have time for urban cowboys in expensive boots, driving expensive Ford trucks and wearing... Oh goodness, what was he wearing? It smelled like the cologne counter at the mall, something spicy and Oriental and outdoorsy, all at the same time. The kind of scent guaranteed to make a woman want to drop in and stay awhile.
No! She’d done this once before. She’d believed Andy, that he would help her, fix her life, make things all better. And he didn’t. When things had gotten tough, he bailed. He hadn’t been prepared for reality.
“Go away, Daron.” Emma pushed past him with her daughter, because she was decidedly not the woman who wanted to lean into him and stay awhile. She didn’t have time for anything other than reality.
Daron McKay was a nuisance and he’d been a nuisance for three years, since he got back from Afghanistan. He’d involved himself in her life because he’d come home and Andy hadn’t. But Andy had left her long before then and Daron just didn’t understand.
Andy had left her here alone.
Alone, broke and pregnant. Of the three she could handle alone. Other than with her granddad, Art Lewis, she’d been that way most of her life. Her parents had died in a car accident when she was ten. Art had been the only one willing to take her on.
Now, eighteen years later, the tables had turned, and she was taking care of her granddad.
“I can’t go away.” Daron followed her, reaching his arms to her daughter. Jamie, not knowing any better, went straight to him. He’d been hanging around for three years. Her daughter thought he was the best thing ever.
“Why can’t you just go away?” she asked, knowing she shouldn’t. “And how did you know?”
The wind, strong and from the north, whipped at her hair, blowing it across her face. She pushed it back with her hand and gave the man next to her, who towered over her by nearly a foot, an angry glare. Not because he was a bad person, but because he was always there. Always catching her at her worst, when she felt weak and vulnerable. He’d been in the waiting room the night Jamie was born. He’d been there when Jamie had the croup. He was always there. Like he thought they needed him.
He’d brought groceries, bought Christmas presents, provided hay for their cattle. He was kind. Or guilty. Maybe he was both. She didn’t know and she really didn’t have the time or energy to figure him out.
She did know he wasn’t the least bit fazed by her attempt to push him away. “I heard the call on the scanner. And I can’t go because I’m carrying Jamie. And she happens to think I’m amazing.”
He smiled down at her and added a wink that made her roll her eyes.
“That makes two of you,” Emma quipped, barely hiding a smile as she averted her gaze from the too-sure-of-himself rancher with his Texas drawl, sun-browned skin and sandy curls.
He laughed off the comment. “Yep, me and Jamie, we think I’m pretty amazing.”
“It’s time for you to cut the strings and realize I don’t need you, Daron. I’m not your problem. You don’t owe us anything. We’re taking care of ourselves.”
His smile faded and he glanced away, his gray eyes looking a lot like the clouds rolling over the horizon. “I’m here. Like it or not.”
“I think you’re upset that you’re here instead of Andy. You are upset every time you take a breath. You have to let it go.”
“He was a friend.”
She looked at Jamie, then shook her head. “I’m not doing this again. We can’t go back. I can’t help you soothe your guilt. You have to let go.”
“Your granddad ran a tractor off the road. He was fiddling with his stereo. He said they need to play more Merle and less of this stuff they call country these days. All of the good ones are dying off, he said.”
Emma brushed a hand across her cheek, not wanting to think about the good ones dying off or songs about who would take their place. “I’ll take care of it.”
“There’s damage to the tractor.”
“Okay, thank you. You can go.”
Daron remained next to her, matching his giant steps to her smaller ones. “Your granddad let his insurance lapse. It hasn’t been paid in two months.”
Emma sighed. “Could this get any better?”
It would get better, though. She knew in time they’d work through this. Jamie would be healthy and Emma would be able to work full-time. Things always got better. Sometimes they just had to get worse first.
“They mentioned having him evaluated.” Daron reached to open the door for her. “They think it’s time he gave up his license.”
“Of course they do. But he’s only eighty and he’s usually careful.” She held her arms out to her daughter, but Jamie ignored her, preferring instead to rest her head on Daron’s shoulder. “We have to go now, sweetie.”
“I’ll go in with you.” He glanced down at the child in his arms, her blond curls framing her face. Put a hand to her cheek as if he knew the routine. “Is she sick?”
Emma briefly closed her eyes, because for a brief moment she’d forgotten what Lily told her. “She has a virus.”
And then she took her daughter and walked through the open door, leaving him alone on the sidewalk. When
she got to the desk where an officer was doing paperwork, Daron was still behind her.
“Can I help you?” The officer, his name tag told her his name was Benjamin Jacobs, looked past her to Daron.
“I’m Emma Shaw. My grandfather, Art Lewis...”
The officer grinned and held up a hand. “We know Art. He’s in the back entertaining the guys with stories of the trouble he got into when he was overseas during the Korean War. We’ll get him processed and you can take him home.”
He hit the intercom and told someone in the back that Art’s granddaughter was there to get him.
“Do you have the name of the person he hit? I’m under the impression there are damages and Art’s insurance has lapsed?”
“It’s taken care of.” The officer went on with his paperwork.
“It can’t be taken care of. He doesn’t have insurance. If you’ll give me the name, I’ll handle it. Or will we see them in court?”
“They didn’t press charges.”
She spun around to face Daron. He had taken a step back, but he was still close enough to poke a finger into his chest. “I said stop.”
“Stop what?”
“How many times have I told you—you don’t have to rescue us. We’re fine.”
He held both hands up in surrender. “I know you are.”
A door behind them opened and closed with a click. She glanced back and saw her grandfather with the police chief. He’d lost weight and his overalls hung a little loose. He was wearing slippers instead of his farm boots. She drew in a breath, aching because he was getting older. Why had she thought he’d be with her forever, always picking up the pieces and keeping her safe?
“Granddad, what in the world?” She hiked her daughter up on her hip and closed the distance between herself and her grandfather. “Are you okay?”
He scratched the gray whiskers on his chin. “Well, I reckon I am. What are you here for?”
“I came to get you. They said you were in a wreck.”
Her Guardian Rancher Page 2
