by Leanne Banks
“Sure,” Priss said, escorting her sister across the yard and trying not to feel small due to the disapproving gaze of Harlan Granger. She reached down to press a kiss on Lori's head.
Lori whipped around and buried her face against Priss. “I don't wanna go,” she wailed, bursting into tears.
Priss felt as if she were having her guts sliced out of her. She saw a glimmer of concern cross Harlan's face. “But what about the pony your daddy is going to get you?” she impulsively asked.
“Pony?” Lori echoed, her head bopping up.
“Pony?” Harlan said, jerking his head toward Priss.
Priss nodded and smiled. “Did you know that your daddy has enough money to get you a real pony?”
Lori's eyes widened with excitement. “A real pony?”
“A real one, and he is gonna tell you all about it while he drives you to your new house.” Lifting her chin, she met Harlan's gaze with far more confidence than she felt. “Lori has always wanted a pony, and I think it's terrific that you 're going to get her one.”
Harlan raised an eyebrow, but didn't argue.
Lori whipped around to look at him. “Is that true? Are you really going to get me a pony?” She hesitated, then took a deep breath. “Daddy?”
Priss watched balls-of-steel Harlan Granger melt a little before her very eyes and felt the pressure in her heart unwind a notch.
“Of course, I'm gonna get you a pony. But I wanted to wait for you so you could help pick it out,” he said and took Lori's little hand in his big palm and led her to the car. After he helped Lori to the car, he turned to Priss for a half beat and tipped his Stetson, A silent thank-you, but Priss knew his gratitude wouldn't extend to letting Lori come back to visit. This was good-bye.
“Your father is Harlan Granger?” Michael asked, interrupting Katie's reverie.
“No. Lori and I had the same mother,” she said, horrified to feel a tear stream down her cheek. Her defenses shot back in place and she rounded on him. “And don't even start making remarks about the fact that my mother was a slut because I've already heard them all. It may be true, but I don't want to hear it right now.”
Michael calmly met her gaze. “I didn't say anything about your mother.”
So he hadn't, she thought, wishing she didn't feel so out of control. She took a careful breath to calm herself.
“Do you want me to go after her?”
“Who?”
“Your sister. I can probably catch up. If you haven't seen her—”
“No,” she said, cutting him off along with the tempting possibility of seeing Lori again.
“Why not?”
She sighed in frustration. “I just—It's not—” She frowned. “This isn't a good time. You and I need to go on to Fort Worth.”
“How long has it been since you've seen her?”
“A while,” Katie reluctantly said.
“Translate a while into months,” he said, watching her carefully. “Or years.”
“Twelve years, but it's none of your business,” she quickly added. “Can we just please go?”
He gave a low whistle, shifted out of park, then made a U-turn in the middle of the road to head in the opposite direction. Katie resisted the urge to glance back one last time.
“Twelve years is a long time. You must be pretty pissed off,” he said.
She rolled her eyes. “I'm not pissed off. The reason I didn't see my sister was due to a circumstance beyond my control.”
“It's not beyond your control now.”
Katie was still too busy dealing with a half-dozen different emotions to give Michael credit for being right The notion that he could be right just added another emotion to the crazy mix. “I realize that you frequently get paid to be nosey, but trust me, you won't get any money for being nosey about me. Don't bother with me. We both need to focus on finding Wilhemina.”
“It's always good to understand your partner's motivation,” he said, his voice getting under her skin.
“My motivation is the same as yours. I want the money. That's all you need to know.”
Michael fell silent and Katie exhaled in relief. No more grilling, thank goodness. Leaning back in her seat she took note of some of the changes that had taken place since she'd left Texas. Dallas had already boomed, but the construction continued to sprawl. Fort Worth was expanding too, however Katie noticed a couple of guys on horseback on a back lot.
“Did I just see horses on a city road?” Michael asked.
She nodded with a faint smile. “Fort Worth is that way. It's determined to move forward at the same time it refuses to give up its roots. Rodeos and the arts.”
“Rodeos,” Michael echoed, meeting her gaze for a quick instant as he headed for downtown Fort Worth. “Cowboys, rodeos,” he said.
Katie made a face. “I don't think so.”
“Why not?”
“I don't think Wilhemina wants a showy, cowboy. She wants a cowboy that represents the western male mystique.”
“And what would that be?” he asked, his voice oozing cynical disbelief.
“Honor, strength, self-reliance.” Great butt, she heard her mother say and bit her tongue before she repeated it.
“She could probably find a willing cowboy toy at a rodeo.”
“That's not what she's looking for,” Katie said with complete confidence.
“What makes you so sure?”
“I know the fantasy. The cowboy part is just the trimming. She wants a man, not a boy.”
“That could depend on the guy's equipment.”
“Wilhemina's fantasy isn't really about sex,” Katie told him.
“How do you know?”
“I just do.”
“Wilhemina may not be as repressed as you are.”
“I'm not repressed,” she said in a voice that sounded terse to her own ears. She shouldn't be offended. After all, she had dedicated herself to making the world believe she was a sexless wonder. She should be happy she had achieved her goal. “I just have a higher priority.”
“Like a nun,” he said.
“No. It's not a religious thing.”
He pulled into a hotel parking lot, stopped the car, and looked at her with an expression that made her stomach dip. “Wilhemina may not have a higher priority. She has hormones and human needs,” he said in a low voice that made her think of tangled sheets and a hot endless night.
Not that she'd ever experienced a hot endless night of lovemaking. Katie opened” her mouth to say that she had hormones and human needs, then abruptly closed it.
“So yee-haw,” he said with no enthusiasm. “Let's find out when the next rodeo is.”
“They're shorter than I thought they would be,” Michael said, assessing the male rodeo contestants. “I thought everything was bigger in Texas.”
Katie shrugged. “Maybe it's easier to stay on a bull if you're shorter.”
He gave a noncommittal nod and adjusted his sunglasses as he scanned the audience. “We should split up. You can check all the ladies’ rooms.”
“Oh, goody. Bathroom duty,” Katie quipped.
He slid a sunglass-obscured glance her way. Even Katie would have to admit he looked sexy with those dark shades, dark hair, and pecs beneath his button-down shirt. “I don't think it would go over well if I checked the ladies’ rooms.”
“I don't know. If you put on a Stetson and a pair of boots, you might be able to attract a few groupies.”
“Should I take that as a compliment?”
His voice was just a little too silky, and the fact that she couldn't read his eyes made her nervous. “If you've ever wanted to be a cowboy, I guess you could,” she said in a deliberately breezy tone. “I'll check the rest rooms and the food concessions.” She grimaced. “If Wilhemina's not having a good time, she'll eat.”
He nodded. “Okay. Meet me here in forty-five minutes.”
Katie conducted the rest-room relay twice- and double-checked all the food concessions. She had a gut f
eeling they were wasting their time, but Michael had insisted. Checking her watch, she saw she had a few minutes to spare, so she decided to look behind the scenes just in case Wilhemina may have gotten particularly brave and brazen. She wound her way through dozens of trailers with no luck and turned back. Rounding a corner, she plowed into a hard chest.
“Well, howdy, sweet thing,” a tall, young cowboy dressed in chaps said, catching her by the shoulders. “Sorry I didn't see you coming. I just blew my ride.”
“Sorry,” she murmured. “I wasn't looking where I was going.”
His gaze fell over her from head to toe, and he gave a crooked grin. “You wanna make it up to me?”
Katie went blank. “Make what up to you?”
He shrugged his broad shoulders in a way that probably mesmerized other women. Katie felt completely immune. “I thought you might wanna console me. A lot of the girls who come back here are looking for—”
Shock raced through her. “Oh, no. I wasn't looking for—”
“She's not looking for action,” Michael said from behind her and pulling out a photo. “She's looking for this woman.”
The cowboy scrutinized the photo. “Sorry I can't help you. I haven't seen her.” He glanced at Katie and tipped his hat “If you change your mind, my trailer's on the back row.”’
At a loss, Katie shook her head. “Good luck with your next ride.”
Michael pressed his hand against her back, nudging: her toward the stadium. “Now that's an irresistible invitation! Meet me at my trailer on the back row,” he cracked, shaking his head. “I still don't get this cowboy thing. Is there something romantic about horse manure that I'm missing?”
Katie couldn't swallow a chuckle. “I told you it's more about the mystique, the legend. But the chaps don't hurt.”
He glanced at her. “What's so great about chaps?”
She fought back a twinge of self-consciousness. “They make a guy's butt look great.”
He stopped in the middle of a walkway. “And you've noticed guys’ butts in chaps?” he asked in disbelief.
Katie resisted the urge to squirm and wished she had her own sunglasses. She felt half-naked. “It's a normal feminine observation. I probably haven't dwelled on it as much as some,” she said with a shrug. “But I've noticed.”
“I'll be damned.”
“What?” she asked, not liking his tone of voice.
“Katie has hormones after all.”
“I never said I didn't. I just can't act on them.”
“Why not?” he asked, then held up a hand. “Oh, I remember. You have a higher calling.”
“Not calling,” she corrected. “Priority.”
“And that is?”
“Nothing that would interest you,” she said, unnerved by his attention. She glanced around. “I'm assuming you came up empty. I'm still betting she's looking for a rancher type.”
He glanced at his watch. “I need to check out some things on the computer, then we can hit the bars.”
Katie bit back a groan. She could only hope they would hit pay dirt tonight. Texas was a big state. If they didn't find Wilhemina soon, she could be anywhere.
Two days later, Wilhemina had successfully transported herself to Banderas, attended a rodeo, and sat in three different bars. She didn't think she had encountered her cowboy knight on any of her excursions so far. Or perhaps Chad had put a bad taste in her mouth. Every time she thought of him, she wrinkled her nose in disgust.
Perched on a bar stool, sipping a watery margarita, she began to worry that she was on a wild goose chase. What if she didn't find her cowboy knight in Texas? What if he didn't exist?
Tamping down her doubts, she heard a man raise his voice to another man.
“You owe me a hundred dollars!”
“I'm not paying you one cent. I never shook on it.”
Wilhemina watched in horror as the two men squared off. One took a punch. She heard the sound of a fist impacting a jaw and winced. Glancing around, she noticed that most people acted as if they weren't even aware the men were fighting. That could only mean these people were accustomed to fights in the bar. A sliver of fear raced down her spine. Maybe she shouldn't be here.
She watched one of the men take another swing and bit her lip. Fright galvanized her into action. Scrambling off her stool, she ran for the door and raced to her car. Her heart pounding, she slid into her seat, slammed her car door behind her, and pressed the lock button twice for good measure.
She lifted her hand to her throat and tried to calm herself. Her mind spinning, she wondered if she should go back to Philadelphia. Texas wasn't toning out the way she'd expected. Katie would be worried about her and Michael was probably upset. Plus Chantal didn't like hotel rooms.
The thought of returning to the city where she had never fit in, however, made her stomach hurt. Wilhemina shook her head. She wasn't totally ready to admit defeat. She would check out of her hotel room and drive toward San Antonio. There might not be as many cowboys at Riverwalk, but there was plenty of shopping.
An hour and a half later with Chantal sitting next to her, Wilhemina looked at road signs in vain. About thirty minutes before, she had taken a turnoff for the road she'd believed would take her to San Antonio, but now she wasn't so sure. Frowning at the bumpy two-lane road, she muttered to herself. “This doesn't look right. This doesn't—”
Something gray and furry scampered in front of her headlights and Wilhemina swerved to the right. Her heart racing, she slammed on the brakes, but the car moved as if powered by its own will. Her headlights shone on the ditch just as the car tumbled downward.
“I'd rather be brave enough to do something worthy of wild gossip than be so afraid of others’ disapproval that I do nothing at all.”
—UNNY COLLTNS'S WISDOM
Chapter 10
Wilhemina instinctively jammed her foot into the brake so hard a searing pain cut through her. The car slammed into the ditch and she banged her forehead against the steering wheel. The teeth-jarring sensation vibrated through her head, face, down to her shoulders.
Her heart pounding a mile a minute, she distantly heard Chantal shrieking. She locked her hands on the steering wheel for two full moments staring at the brown earth one headlight illuminated. Chantal crept up from the floorboard and climbed onto Wilhemina's lap. The cat's plaintive cries snapped her out of shock.
Wilhemina let out a long pent-up breath and gulped in another, loosening her fingers from the steering wheel. She gingerly put the car in park and pushed on the emergency brake with her left foot.
Steam rose from the hood of the car and the engine began to make strange sounds. She bit her lip. “Uh-oh, I don't think that's a good sign,” she said, stroking Chantal as much to comfort herself as the cat.
Biting her lip, she took inventory of herself. She rubbed her forehead. No blood. She looked at her hands, clenching and unclenching them. They were sore, but still working. She wiggled her tight shoulders and breathed a sigh of relief. She wasn't hurt. She'd just creamed the car.
The rental car, she thought with a sinking sensation in her stomach. She would have to call them and have it towed, and her great adventure would be over. There was no way she would be able to hide from Katie and Michael after this.
Disappointment oozed through her. She sighed, reluctantly reaching for the cell phone in her purse. Pausing before she hit the power button, she told herself she had no choice. It was late at night. She was stuck in a ditch. She was going to have to be rescued.
Wilhemina hated that. She felt as if she'd spent her life being rescued. She wanted to be independent, capable, strong instead of helpless. Sighing again, she pushed the power button and waited. And waited. And waited.
No service.
Wilhemina blinked. No service? “That's ridiculous,’’ she muttered, turning the phone off and trying again. Still no service.
Frowning, she looked outside and wondered if she might get better reception if she climbed out of the dit
ch. She awkwardly climbed out of the vehicle and put down her right foot. Pain shot through her. She hopped onto her left foot, grabbing the side of the car to keep from falling.
“Ouch! Ouch! How did that happen? When—” She whimpered, tentatively stepping on it again. More pain. Wilhemina felt a shot of panic. She was out in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night with a creamed car and a bum foot. And no way to get help.
Unless she could get the damn cell to work. Biting her lip, she climbed out of the ditch and turned the power on again. She held her breath, waiting while the phone searched for a signal.
No service.
Her heart fell. She looked in both directions and all she saw was black.
During the next thirty minutes, Wilhemina tried the phone at least sixty times. Her foot was throbbing, but she could put a little weight on it. She hoped that meant it wasn't broken. Not one vehicle passed by her during that time, and she started to think she might be stuck there until morning if no one came along.
Even if someone did come along, who knew if they would be trustworthy. It might be another guy like Chad. A bitter taste filled her mouth and she made a face.
She hobbled back to her car and sat in the leather seat. Chantal climbed into her lap again and gave an accusing meow. The cat seemed to ask, What were you thinking? What are you going to do now?
Miserable and afraid, Wilhemina rubbed the cat. “I don't know. I feel like an idiot.”
Two hours later, Wilhemina heard an approaching vehicle. She scrambled out of the car to the top of the ditch just as a pickup truck whizzed past. “Help! Help!” she yelled, waving her hands, ignoring the throb in her foot.
The truck slowed.
“Help! Please!” Desperate, she jumped up and down on one foot. “Please help! I'll pay you a thousand dollars if you'll help me.”
The truck backed slowly toward her and a tall, lanky man stepped onto the side of the road. He wore a black hat, a white T-shirt, jeans that faithfully followed narrow hips and powerful thighs, and scuffed boots Wilhemina's heart raced in her throat. She prayed he wasn't dangerous: She prayed he wasn't like Chad.
