Megan's Hero (The Callahans of Texas Book #3): A Novel

by Gillenwater, Sharon

  She didn’t understand it all. What did “horn of my salvation” mean? Checking the footnote, she saw that horn symbolized strength. So he was her shield, the strength of her salvation, her stronghold. He would protect her from her other enemies—poverty, homelessness, fear.

  The torrents of destruction had certainly overwhelmed her, and she had definitely been confronted with the snares of death.

  But he had heard her cry and saved her.

  The psalm went on to describe how the earth shook and trembled because God was angry. It told how he came down from heaven and flew on the wings of the wind. She loved that phrase. She kept reading, admiring the beauty of the words and the images they evoked. No wonder Mrs. Hoffmann had enjoyed the psalms.

  The last part of verse 19 stopped her. Tears of gratitude silently slid down her cheeks as God revealed his truth to her.

  “He rescued me because he delighted in me.”

  13

  Will understood Megan’s decision to move into the camp house. But he would have preferred having her an acre away from his house instead of half a mile down the road.

  She’d been in her own place for two weeks. He’d seen her almost every day at noon when they ate at the ranch house, and she’d visited with the family in the evenings several times. But she’d eaten in town that day because she had a doctor’s appointment and some errands to run.

  He was bitin’ at the bit to spend some time alone with her, and to find out what Dr. Cindy had to say. He parked the pickup behind her house and walked up onto the back porch, intending to knock softly in case she was asleep.

  Before he reached the screen door, she called, “Come on in.”

  He walked into the kitchen and stopped, watching as she removed a small saucepan from the stove and set it on a trivet on the counter. She quickly added some chopped-up chocolate and whisked it around in the pan, stirring until the concoction was smooth. A funny-looking pan with what he thought was a single-layer chocolate cake sat on a wire rack nearby. “Is that the icing?”

  She nodded. “Ganache. It’s just cream and semi-sweet chocolate.” She poured the mixture on top of the cake and set the saucepan aside. Gently shaking the cake pan, she spread the icing evenly. “There.” She smiled in satisfaction. “Would you open the refrigerator?”

  “Sure.” He hurried to do as she asked. “Does it set as it cools?”

  “Hardens, actually. It’s like a layer of chocolate candy on top. With a slight adjustment of proportions, you can make truffles.”

  After she carefully set it on the refrigerator shelf, he closed the door and grinned at her. “Do I get a piece?”

  “At supper. I want your mom and the girls to try it too, and make sure it will work for the Littleton baby shower on Thursday. Sue mentioned that one of the ladies is allergic to wheat, so I suggested making a flourless cake.”

  “I didn’t know there was such a thing.”

  “I’m sure there are lots of recipes, but this is the only one I’ve tried. It also happens to be some serious chocolate.”

  Will laughed. “That should please just about every woman I know. Do we get to sample everything you make for the luncheons?”

  “Unless I do a repeat. Then I probably won’t make one ahead of time.”

  “No sense doing the extra work.” He noticed a book on the table and walked over to see what she’d been reading. “Quilting. Is this where you got the patterns for the quilt cake?” She’d baked it for the Rainy Day Quilters the week before, and people were still talking about it.

  She’d made a smaller one for the family, minus the fancy decorations. He’d been to fancy restaurants and dinners, but he’d never eaten anything like it. It had two layers of white cake with strawberry mousse in between, then a layer of custard and two layers of chocolate cake with some kind of dark filling separating them.

  On the family cake, she’d used plain buttercream frosting, but the one for the luncheon had been decorated like an old-fashioned sampler quilt with six different patterns. It was a big cake. He’d put it into his mom’s Suburban and carried it into the museum for her.

  Smiling, she joined him. “I found the patterns I wanted there, but I used the computer at the ranch house to get some online so I could print them out. Then I made a pattern, traced it onto the cake, and decorated it. I do a lot of designs that way.”

  Which would be easier if she had a computer of her own. He had a laptop that he didn’t use much. Problem solved.

  “Are you all tuckered out?”

  “No. I took a nap earlier. Don’t tell anybody, but this cake isn’t too hard to make.”

  “Won’t tell a soul. I’m going to drive over to one of the pastures and check on the cattle. Would you like to ride along?”

  “Sure.” She filled up a water bottle, grabbed a banana, and turned to him. “Want one?”

  “I’m good. Had an apple a little while ago.”

  “Apple instead of an energy bar. You must not be working hard today.”

  “Mostly pickup work—checking fences and the cattle.” He opened the door and let her walk out ahead of him. When they reached the pickup, he opened that door too, ready to give her a boost if she needed help getting into the truck. Unfortunately, she didn’t.

  He climbed into the truck and drove around the house. Pulling out onto the dirt road, he headed in the opposite direction from the ranch house. “What did Cindy have to say?”

  “Everything looks fine. Both Sweet Baby and I have gained some weight. She was happy about that. My blood test was a little better than when I was at the hospital, so the extra iron and all those steaks y’all have been feeding me are helping. She said things are improving.”

  “Are you resting enough? Or are you working too hard?”

  “I’m fine.” She smiled at him. “Thanks for your concern, but I’m being careful and resting when I need to.”

  “Good. Make sure you keep doing that.” He flinched inwardly at his commanding tone. “Please.”

  When she chuckled, he relaxed. “We’ll go to Aidan’s Spring first. If we were horseback, we’d cut straight across the pasture, but it’s too rough to go that way in a vehicle.”

  “It would be too rough on a horse too.”

  “Under current conditions. But if you weren’t pregnant, you’d probably enjoy it. Jenna loves riding. ’Course, she grew up on the back of a horse. She started helping round up cattle when she was just a kid. Emily rides too, though she’d never done any real ranch work before she got married. She’s pitched in several times and does fine. We just finished the spring roundup a few days before you arrived. Too bad you weren’t here to see the big production, but you’ll get an idea of what we do at the Ranch Rodeo on July 4th.”

  “Is your roundup like in western movies, with a chuck wagon and everything?”

  “Not anymore. We’ve used the chuck wagon in the past, but Dad decided to donate it to the museum last year. It had been a working part of the ranch since 1885, so Emily and Mom were both thrilled to put it on display. What do you think of the museum?”

  “It’s amazing.” Her face lit up with enthusiasm. “I’m no expert on museums, but this one is fascinating. And going into the Bradley-Tucker House is like going back in time a hundred years.”

  “Emily’s done great with both of them. She came here just to set up the museum, with no intention of staying in Callahan Crossing.”

  “Chance changed her mind.”

  “That he did. But it wasn’t easy. She was bound and determined to become an assistant curator at a big city museum. Until she fell in love with my brother and decided she preferred the slower pace of Callahan Crossing to a hectic life in the city.” He slowed the truck to watch a roadrunner race down the road ahead of them before dashing into some brush.

  “It does take some getting used to, but I think I’m going to like it. Except for everybody knowing everybody’s business.”

  “That is a drawback. About the only one I can think of. I lived in
Lubbock while I went to college. That was as much big city as I care to experience.”

  “You went to Texas Tech?” She took a sip of water.

  “Yep. Got myself a bachelor’s degree. The official title is long, but it’s basically ranch management and animal science. Not sure it was worth it.”

  “Why not? Isn’t it important to keep up with all the latest science and trends? Surely things change in ranching just like they do everywhere else.”

  “They do, but that doesn’t mean old ranchers change with the times.” Will drove carefully around a pothole, making a mental note to have Buster bring the grader over and smooth out the road.

  He used to gripe to his brother, but since Chance got married there hadn’t been as many opportunities to use him as a sounding board—or a complaint department. Though Chance and Jenna were partners in the ranch too, they weren’t as involved in the everyday running of the place as he was.

  Ever since the fire hit Callahan Crossing, his brother had been busy as a windmill in a whirlwind. Between his new wife and all those houses he was building, Chance didn’t have a lot of time for his older brother. Will understood, but that didn’t make life any less lonely.

  These days he kept his disagreements with the ol’ man to himself. So why had he said anything to Megan? He considered the question for a moment and concluded that he really wanted—needed—someone to talk to. His horse just didn’t give good advice.

  “Your dad isn’t open to new ideas?”

  Will pulled off his cap and tossed it in the backseat. Running his fingers through his hair, he sighed. “Sometimes. It just seems like lately he’s shot down most everything I’ve mentioned.”

  Megan grabbed the armrest when they hit a bump.

  “Sorry. I didn’t see that one in time.”

  “It’s okay. Your ranch is successful, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. Dad manages it well. But there’s room for improvement. I’d like to experiment with a couple of pastures by planting some different varieties of perennial native grass. I’d also like to give a TV cattle auction a try and bring in some competition from several buyers. A company in Ft. Worth does that. They broadcast the auction live via satellite on RFD-TV. They’ve been doing it for years.”

  “That sounds like a good idea. Why is your father against it?”

  “He’s been dealing with the same cattle buyer for a long time. When I was a kid, we used to haul the cattle to the local auction house. It closed while I was in high school, and Dad arranged for a buyer to come out here to the ranch. It’s worked better than hauling the cattle somewhere to an auction. Easier on both the animals and the cowboys. I understand being loyal to folks you do business with, but a little competition wouldn’t hurt either.

  “Then there’s the wind power potential. He’s adamantly against leasing out land to put up wind turbines. I think it’s the future. I’m still studying the pros and cons, but there are an awful lot of wind turbines going up around the area. It would provide additional income and help supply some of the country’s energy at the same time.”

  “Would it affect the cattle? Or the value of the land?”

  “That’s what I’m looking into.” He smiled at her, appreciating her interest. “It’s a new idea in my noggin so I don’t have the particulars worked out.”

  He drove down a slight slope and stopped in the grove of large pecan trees near the spring and along the creek it fed. “This is Aidan’s Spring.”

  Megan studied the area with a smile. “It’s beautiful.” She pointed to a bench nestled between two large rocks. “Who built that?”

  “My grandfather made that one. We’re not sure if it’s number ten or eleven. There’s been one here for generations. Family lore has it that Great-great-grandpa Aidan built the first one for his wife, Clara. It’s been the tradition to replace them before they start falling apart.”

  “Did your great-great-grandpa live here at the spring?”

  “He and his brother Jack camped here the first year. Maybe the second. Family history is a little fuzzy on that point. Then they built a one-room shack. When they first came here, it was still pretty much open range, but they wanted to have secure water. So they bought this section and another that had a creek running through it.”

  “If this is Aidan’s Spring, is the creek named after Jack?”

  Will chuckled and turned off the ignition. “Yes, it’s appropriately named Jack’s Creek. After the second winter of living together in the shack, they were about ready to shoot each other.”

  “They must not have gotten along as well as you and Chance.”

  “If I had to live in a one-room shack with my brother, I’d be ready to wring his neck after the first winter,” he said with a laugh. “We both get ornery if we’re cooped up for too long.”

  “Not the office type.”

  Will shuddered. “No, ma’am. I’d be crazy as a lizard with sunstroke if I had to stay indoors all the time.

  “Back then there wasn’t a lot of work in the winter, other than to keep track of the cattle and herd them back to the home range if they wandered too far or drifted in a storm. At least these days we haul feed for them, but the early ranchers depended on natural grass. I reckon they got mighty tired of playing checkers or toothpick poker.

  “Aidan and Jack were complete opposites. Jack had a propensity to go to town and blow money. Aidan was tight as a tick. So they grated on each other’s nerves somethin’ fierce.” He leaned his elbow on the armrest.

  “They’d made some money, and thanks to Aidan’s frugal ways, still had some of it. So they each built themselves a house, situated so they couldn’t see each other. Jack’s was over near his creek. It’s pretty dilapidated now. Aidan’s is the dogtrot near our big barn.”

  “Why didn’t he build here at the spring?”

  “It was too secluded for him. The county was building a road where the highway runs now, and he wanted to be closer to it. The ranch headquarters is higher in elevation than here, so back then before the trees were planted around the ranch house, he had a pretty good view of the property.

  “This is pure speculation on my part, but I think part of his motivation had to do with the wildlife that comes here to the spring and creek. Deer, wild turkeys, coyotes, bobcats, and an occasional mountain lion come here to drink. If the headquarters had been built here, the critters would have been scared away. One house might not have bothered them too much, but adding a bunkhouse, the big barn, corrals, and people coming and going all the time would have been too much.” Will’s grandpa always told them to be respectful of the wildlife because God put them there first, and he agreed.

  “Aidan hauled water from the spring at first, but he put in a windmill before too long. He married Grandma Clara in 1888. They lived in the dogtrot until 1895. They had two kids and plenty of money by then, so he built her a new home in town.”

  “What happened to Jack?”

  “He was tired of ranching and wanted to move on. Aidan bought his share of the ranch, and Jack went to England in search of a wife.”

  “England? You’re kidding.”

  “Nope. He found himself an aristocrat, a lady with an impoverished viscount father who was more than happy to take Jack’s money in exchange for his daughter’s hand. He brought his lady wife back to America and settled in Boston. City life and marriage suited him. Once he settled down, he became a good businessman and investor and parlayed his ranching fortune into an even bigger one. His family continued his success, so it worked out well for them. And for us. I wouldn’t want to have to share the ranch with another family.”

  He started the pickup. “That’s your history lesson for today, ma’am. I’d better go count cows.”

  She watched the scenery as he slowly drove across the creek. “Okay, this is going to sound dumb, but why are you going to count the cows? Don’t you know how many you have?”

  Will glanced at her and smiled. She sure was cute with a touch of pink in her cheeks, a little
embarrassed to ask the question but curious enough to lay it out there anyway. He liked that.

  “We do, and we know where they’re supposed to be. But they don’t always go along with our rules. Sometimes they meander off to another place on the ranch or visit the neighbor’s land.” He drove across the pasture on what was only a semblance of a road. In consideration of his passenger, he drove slower than he normally would. “Occasionally rustlers help them disappear.”

  “Rustlers?” She stared at him with wide eyes.

  Was she thinking about the movies again? He almost smiled, but losing livestock wasn’t a smiling matter. “They come in a pickup and trailer in the middle of the night. Sneak in and load up three or four head, more if they’re after the calves. We lost four heifers a couple of months ago. We considered putting a locked gate at the ranch entrance, but that would be a real pain. They’d probably just cut the wire next to it and drive on in.”

  He slowly drove by six cows that were grazing and their calves napping. They stopped eating and lifted their heads, watching Will and Megan curiously. A couple of the calves raised their heads, and one hopped up and moved next to his mama.

  “Will, stop. There’s an armadillo.” Her excitement tickled him.

  He shifted into park. Resting his hand on the back of her seat, he leaned over to look out her window and silently thanked the small, weird-looking armored critter that gave him an excuse to move closer to her. “Yep, that’s an armadillo all right.”

  “I’ve never seen a real one before.”

  “City girl.”

  She laughed softly. “I suppose that’s it.”

  “Actually, we don’t see them too often, either. They usually forage at night due to the heat, but he’s probably out early this afternoon because it’s cooler.”

  “He’s sticking to the shade too. What do they eat?”