Texas Rebels: Egan

by Linda Warren

  “So what happened?”

  She swallowed. “Afterward, he make sure I knew there was no room in his life for me.”

  “Why?” Angie asked softly.

  “Be-because of what my father did to him. There’s just no getting around that. In a way, I understand it, but if what we were feeling was real, it wouldn’t make a difference.”

  Angie got up, came around the desk and hugged her. “I’m sorry, Rach. I know how you feel about him, but give it some time. You’ve only known him a week.”

  “Yeah. I’ll be the first to admit that my emotions aren’t exactly stable right now.”

  “Let’s have a girls’ night out tonight. Hardy’s taking Erin out to eat, to give her some extra attention. Everyone just wants to hug or hold the baby. They seem to forget about her, and Hardy and I don’t want to make that mistake. She loves time alone with her dad.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll be leaving Horseshoe as soon as I get a plane ticket. Maybe Monday or Tuesday.”

  Angie’s face fell. “Oh, Rachel. I was hoping you’d stay longer.”

  “I have a job to get back to.”

  The baby made a fussy sound and Angie’s attention was instantly diverted. It was just as well. Angie couldn’t talk her out of her decision. On cue, Doris and AnaMarie came charging in as if they had an extrasensory perception to baby sounds. Laughter ensued as they argued who was going to hold him first. Rachel left Angie to sort out the problem; she’d been dealing with her lively family for years.

  Rachel walked across the street and got into the Mustang. She sat for a moment staring at the timeless courthouse. Memories flooded through her mind. So many times her mother had brought her here to visit her dad. She’d sit in his big chair and pretend she was a judge. When she grew older, she still would sit in his chair, but she didn’t pretend so much.

  Even as a little boy, Hardy had always known he wanted to be a lawyer and to follow in his dad’s footsteps. Since Rachel drew pictures and loved to paint, everyone had assumed she wanted to be an artist. It was never her decision. It had been made for her by her mother and father.

  She turned the key and the engine fired to life. Backing out, she thought it was time for her to decide what she wanted to be for the rest of her life. She loved teaching kids and she loved her job in New York, but it was all about the kids—their funny faces, their sweet smells, naïveté and innocence. Just being around their enthusiasm filled her with joy.

  Turning off Main Street, she knew exactly what she wanted to be for the rest of her life: a wife and a mother.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Yee haw,” Elias shouted, and kneed his horse. “Later, suckers.” Off to the barn they flew.

  Falcon shook his head. “That boy doesn’t have a lick of sense.”

  Egan agreed with his older brother. Elias had slid off his horse three times today because he’d fallen asleep. His head had to be made of something similar to a helmet, because he kept taking hits and getting back up.

  The other brothers followed more slowly. It had been a long day and everyone was tired and ready for rest and food. They hadn’t had any problems with the McCrays today. Gunnar had ridden the fence line several times, but made no move to interact with the Rebels. They’d done their job and ignored him.

  Their mother had driven the ranger out at noon with lunch and Grandpa had followed on his horse. Egan knew his mother was worried, and that she was keeping a close eye on everything. Grandpa was the entertainment, regaling them with his stories.

  They rode into the barn to their respective stalls and unsaddled the horses. Elias lay sprawled on bales of alfalfa.

  Grandpa poked him. “Get up from there. What’s wrong with you, boy? You know you always take care of your horse first.”

  “Ah, I need a minute.”

  Grandpa sat beside him and Elias groaned. “You’re getting too old to be partying during the week,” the old man said.

  Elias raised his head. “I’m only thirty-three.”

  “Did I tell you boys about the time I didn’t sleep for a week?”

  “Ah, Grandpa, my head hurts enough.”

  “It must’ve been about 1960 or so. Your father was small.”

  Egan’s chest tightened at the mention of his dad, as it always did. And he knew his brothers were feeling the same. Talking about their father wasn’t easy.

  “It was about this time of the year, too. I was busy baling hay and your grandma was run off her feet canning stuff out of the garden and helping me when she could. Her sister, Ruth, came to help. One night I worked till after dark getting hay into the barn, and I was tired as an old hound dog who’d been hunting all night. I wasn’t even hungry. I just went to bed. Around midnight I heard screaming and it woke me right up. Lights came on and I didn’t know what the hell was going on. But your grandma stood in the doorway with fire and brimstone in her eyes. About that time I realized I was in bed with Ruth. I was so tired I’d gotten into the wrong bed. I tried to explain, but your grandma wasn’t listening. She locked me out of the house. I tried sleeping on the porch, in the yard, in the barn, but I just couldn’t sleep without Martha. And she wasn’t listening to one word I had to say.”

  “What made her let you back in the house?” Elias asked, and everyone waited for his answer.

  “Now your grandma was a petite, pretty little thing, and Ruth looked like a linebacker for the Dallas Cowboys. I told her if I was gonna sleep with somebody else, I’d pick one of them big-boobed barmaids at the beer joint. I certainly wouldn’t pick Ruth.”

  “And she bought that?”

  Grandpa frowned so deeply the grooves in his forehead looked like ruts. “What are you talking about? I was telling the truth, but the big-boobed remark got me another night in the barn. Women.” He shook his head. “I’ll never understand them, but I sure loved your grandma.”

  Egan led Gypsy into the corral to the feed trough. His dad had loved one woman and so had Grandpa. Rebel men tended to love once and deeply. But it took a lot of patience on the woman’s side. Grandma Martha had been a warm, loving person and Egan remembered her well. She had a temper, too, and Grandpa had steered clear of it, even though he’d been the cause of it most of the time.

  With the horses unsaddled and taken care of, the brothers started toward their homes, along with Jericho.

  “Quincy, you coming to my house?” Grandpa asked. “Cupcake’s got something at school.”

  Everyone was tired and Egan saw the expression on Quincy’s face. He just wanted to go to bed, but he would never refuse his grandfather.

  “I’ll come,” Egan volunteered. “What do you have planned for supper?”

  “I got out that catfish we caught in Yaupon Creek. It’s all seasoned and ready to fry. I’ll go put the skillet on while you take a shower.”

  “Thanks,” Quincy said to Egan. “I’m out for the count. See you in the morning.”

  Falcon and Jude went to the big house to be with their kids, and Quincy and Elias headed for bed.

  “I’ll help,” Jericho offered.

  Egan and Rico fixed supper and Grandpa gave orders with the finesse of a drill sergeant. With the old man finally asleep in his chair and the kitchen clean, Egan and Rico slipped out the back door.

  Pete yapped at their feet, wanting food. Egan didn’t want to give him fish, afraid he’d get a bone caught in his throat. Squatting, Egan fed him leftovers he’d found in the refrigerator—Pete’s favorite.

  “I’m getting some shut-eye,” Rico said. “See you tomorrow.”

  Egan made his way to his house. The lights were out and he found his bedroom without flipping a switch. He wasn’t sleepy. He was restless. And the sheets smelled like her. He’d meant to wash them, but hadn’t had time.

  His duster lay on a chair and he reached for it and his rifle. In seconds he was out the door and headed for the hills. Pete trailed behind. After a mile, the dog started to whine.

  “If you’re going to complain, go back to the hou
se.”

  Pete barked, but kept coming.

  The blackness of night was all around Egan, soothing in its own way. An owl hooted and something rustled in the bushes as crickets chirped. Familiar sounds. Calming sounds. This was his comfort zone, where no one could ever hurt him again.

  He stopped when he reached the top of the hill, and spread the duster on the ground. Rachel’s delicate scent reached him. It was still on the duster. She had invaded his space and Egan didn’t know how to handle that. Or how to rid himself of the memories she’d left behind.

  Taking a deep breath, he lay on the duster and stared at the expanse of black sky and its brilliant display of stars. Pete cozied up to him.

  “I hurt her.”

  Pete whimpered.

  “Yeah, I know. I have to talk to her before she returns to New York. I may be a lot of things, but I’m not a jerk. She deserves better from me.”

  Pete snuggled closer.

  “Thanks, Pete. You always have the right answer.” Egan scratched the dog’s head and then laughed out loud at the absurdity of talking to a dog. The sound echoed through the valley and released a lot of pent-up tension. The ache in his stomach eased, too.

  He pulled his hat over his face and drifted into sleep, with Rachel’s sweet scent soothing him.

  * * *

  RACHEL HAD A nice evening with Angie. Sitting on the barstool, drinking a nonalcoholic wine cooler, she watched Angie make her special pizza. Since Angie couldn’t drink, Rachel thought she wouldn’t, either. They sat at the large kitchen island, eating and laughing. They talked about the past, the present and the future. Rachel didn’t hold anything back and neither did Angie. They were two young girls who were now adults and had learned from their experiences.

  Later, they retired to the den to watch a movie. Love Story just happened to be on and they both were enthralled. Every now and then Rachel’s eyes would stray to Angie, who was nursing Trey. That had to be the most fulfilling experience in the world. All Rachel’s hormones were kicking in and blindsiding her. Maybe it was just seeing the baby or maybe she was at the age where her biological clock was ticking overtime. But she didn’t see a baby in her future anytime soon and she felt a moment of sadness.

  After Trey was fed, Rachel took him from Angie and cuddled him close. “I want one of these.” She kissed Trey’s cheek.

  Angie stopped folding the burp cloth. “With Egan?”

  “I think that ship has sailed, as they say.” She tightened her arms around the sleeping baby. “There are sperm banks, you know.”

  Her friend gasped. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”

  “A couple of women I know in New York have chosen that route and they seem happy.”

  “Do you think you’ll be happy without a husband?”

  If he’s not Egan... She cleared her throat to stop the thought. “Probably not, but that’s my small-town Texas upbringing talking.”

  “I think it’s a heartache talking.”

  “Yeah. I never thought I’d find the man of my dreams when I decided to come home. And I certainly never imagined that he would reject me.”

  “Rachel, can’t you stay a little longer, until you feel better about the situation with Egan?”

  “No. I’ve already made the plane reservation. It leaves at one on Monday.” She glanced at her friend. “It’s the right thing to do. I might even see a therapist when I return, to help me sort through all these conflicting feelings.”

  Angie didn’t say anything else and they both sat there with tears in the eyes as they watched the rest of Love Story. Why did life have to be so sad?

  * * *

  ON SATURDAY, RACHEL DECIDED to give Angie and Hardy a treat. She offered to keep the kids that evening so they could have some time alone. They balked at first, but Rachel convinced them. Angie wore a black sheath dress and heels. She looked beautiful and Hardy’s eyes lit up when he saw her.

  After a couple hours of changing diapers, feeding and entertaining Trey, Rachel was rethinking the baby thing. But only for a second. It was pure heaven and she enjoyed every minute.

  She and Erin played games, made hot-fudge sundaes and did a dance number on the Wii. It was embarrassing that Rachel couldn’t keep up with a twelve-year-old. Laughing with her niece was a riot. The kids took her mind off Egan. But as soon as she went to bed that night, he was right there, with his callused hands, his gentle touch and his wounded heart.

  How did she stop loving him?

  * * *

  THE NEXT MORNING everyone slept in, even Trey. Hardy and Erin fixed blueberry pancakes while Rachel and Angie watched. It was fun to get a glimpse of her brother interacting with his daughter. They kidded, laughed and it was clear how much they loved each other. It warmed Rachel’s heart.

  They were finishing breakfast when her father came into the room. He’d been in Austin and had just returned.

  “You’re back early,” Hardy said.

  The judge patted the tummy of his grandson, who was in the carrier on the kitchen island. “Rachel’s leaving tomorrow and I wanted to spend some time with her.”

  She felt a pang of regret, but staying would help nothing. She had to get back to her life.

  Her father filled a cup with coffee. “I have a phone call to make and then I’ll join you.”

  Ever since Rachel had been home, her dad had spent a lot of time in Austin and she wondered why. Taking her plate to the sink, she asked, “What does Dad do in Austin so much?”

  Hardy got up with his own plate in his hand. “I haven’t had time to tell you, but Dad is seeing someone.”

  “Oh.” Rachel looked at her brother. “That’s nice. I guess she lives in Austin.”

  “Yeah. Dad is unaware that I know, but we’re acquainted with a lot of the same people and I heard about her.”

  Rachel frowned. “Is it supposed to be a secret? I don’t understand.”

  Hardy set his plate in the sink. “He hasn’t actually told me he’s seeing someone, so I guess he doesn’t want us to know.”

  “That’s silly. It’s been twelve years. I’m not upset that he’s dating anyone. Are you?”

  “No.” Hardy leaned against the counter. “I’ve never brought up the subject. I thought if he wanted to talk about it, he would. It’s his life and I didn’t want to intrude on his privacy.”

  “Is it someone we know?”

  “You remember Judge Janson?”

  “Yeah.” Rachel picked up her cup of coffee.

  “He died about five years ago and Dad is seeing his widow. They’ve been seen around Austin. That’s all I know.”

  A chill ran through Rachel and the cup she was holding hit the floor and shattered across the tiles. Hardy jumped back and Angie ran to get a broom and a dustpan.”

  Not Liz Janson. It couldn’t be. Hardy and Angie worked to clean up the mess, but Rachel was caught in a web of the past.

  “You okay, Aunt Rachel?” Erin asked.

  She heard her niece’s voice, but all she could see was her mother’s face. Angie came to the rescue. “Erin, take the baby upstairs and put him in his bed. He’s already asleep, but stay with him awhile.”

  “Okay, Mama.”

  As Erin left the room with Trey, Angie guided Rachel to a chair. “What’s wrong?”

  Rachel looked at Hardy. “Dad is seeing Liz Janson.”

  “Yes. Why is it making you so upset? You said you didn’t care.”

  “How long do you think he’s been seeing her?”

  Hardy shrugged. “I don’t know. A few years, maybe.”

  “And all this time he hasn’t mentioned her to you?”

  “No. What are you getting at?”

  Rachel jumped to her feet. “I need to talk to Dad.” She ran out of the kitchen.

  “Rachel,” Hardy called from a few steps behind her.

  In the study, their dad was on his cell phone, a lit cigar in an ashtray. The pungent smell reached Rachel—a well-remembered scent from when she was a child. It
reminded her of her father, his big bear hugs and that secure feeling she got whenever he held her. But today all she felt was an anger she couldn’t control. And she saw no need to attempt to do so.

  “Rachel.” Her father was startled and clicked off the phone.

  “How long have you been seeing Liz Janson?”

  His eyebrows knotted together. “Sweetheart, what’s this about?”

  “Rachel, leave this alone,” Hardy said from behind her.

  “I will, just as soon as I hear Dad’s answer.”

  “What does it matter?” the judge asked.

  “It matters a great deal,” Rachel told him. “Please answer the question. And I expect complete honesty, just as you have preached for years to us and to everyone who ever came into your courtroom.”

  The judge got to his feet, his robust features pale. “My private life is my own business and I don’t bring it into my home around my children.”

  Anger bubbled up inside Rachel and she couldn’t hold her tongue. She pointed at her father. “You’ve been seeing Liz Janson for more than twelve years. You cheated on our mother and she knew.”

  “What?” The paleness on her father’s face turned a deadly white.

  Hardy took her arm. “That’s enough, Rachel.”

  She jerked her arm away. “What are you afraid of, Hardy? The truth?” She glanced at her father. “Tell us the truth. You demanded it in your courtroom, so why not in your home?”

  The judge glanced down at the cigar burning in the ashtray. “You obviously know something I don’t.”

  “Yes. About two months before Mom died I came home from school early and found her crying in her bedroom. She said she didn’t feel well, but I knew something was up with her. We talked and she finally admitted that she thought you were seeing someone else. That she felt old and ugly because you liked younger women with big breasts, like Liz Janson.”

  “No-o-o.” A denial came from her father.

  “Yes. She told me you were always joking and laughing with her when you had those many dinners with the elderly judge and his wife. Then Mom found lipstick on your suit jacket and it wasn’t hers. It was Liz’s. She remembered the color. I told her she was being silly and for her to ask you. But she didn’t, did she?”