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

by Gillenwater, Sharon

“Insects and grubs. They help us out that way, so we leave them alone, except when we brand them.” He leaned toward the window a little more. “Can’t tell if that’s one we’ve caught or not.”

  That prompted her to look at him, with her face nice and close just like he’d hoped. “You can’t possibly be serious.”

  “We don’t use an iron. Just paint the brand on the shell at the shoulder.”

  “Will Callahan, I’m not that gullible.”

  “I had you there for a minute.”

  “Did not.”

  “Come on, admit it.”

  “Can’t, ’cause it’s not true.” She turned back toward the window and sighed softly. “We scared him away.”

  “He was probably ready to move on anyway.” He shifted back to his seat and put the truck in drive, hoping she’d enjoyed that little bit of fun as much as he had.

  Five minutes later, Will stopped on a small rise where he had a good view of that section of the pasture. Glancing at Megan, he noted she was counting the cows too, and using her index finger as a pointer.

  As if feeling his gaze, she looked at him. “That makes twenty-six cows and twenty-six calves.” She lowered her hand as a faint blush tinted her cheeks. “Guess it’s impolite to point.”

  Will laughed. “The cows won’t notice, and I don’t mind. I’ve done it myself when they’re bunched up.” He pulled a little spiral notebook from his shirt pocket and jotted down the number.

  Grinning, she pointed to a cow and six calves, all about the same size, a good distance away by themselves. The cow grazed while the calves scampered around chasing each other. “Are those all hers? Do cows have sextuplets?”

  “I’ve never heard of any. Even triplets are rare. We’ve had some twin calves, but it doesn’t happen real often. That mama cow has babysitting duty today.”

  Megan stared at him, her expression dubious. “She’s babysitting?”

  “They take turns watching over the calves when it’s playtime. I don’t know how they figure out the schedule, but it works. We may see two or three others doing the same thing. We have a hundred cows plus their calves in this pasture.” He tried to keep a straight face but didn’t quite succeed. “They’re typical females. They form cliques.” Her eyes narrowed, and he fought a grin. “Each little bunch sticks fairly close together, with the different groups staking claims to various sections of the pasture.”

  “So if a woman—or a cow—has a group of friends, that’s a clique.”

  Her serious expression made him uncomfortable. Had he touched a nerve when he’d only meant to tease a little and get a good-natured rise out of her?

  “Well, I guess I could call it a hen party. But bein’ cows, they might object to that.” He put the truck into gear and drove down the slope.

  “And women don’t?”

  “Naw. That’s just teasin’.”

  “What do you call a group of male friends?”

  He gave her his aw-shucks grin, the one guaranteed to soften the hardest feminine heart, and thought he saw the corner of her lips twitch. “A bunch of good ol’ boys.”

  Smiling, she shook her head. “And you get away with it too.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He turned his attention back to the job, scanning the pasture for more cattle.

  Neither of them said anything for a while, but the silence was comfortable. She was relaxed, enjoying the outing, and taking in the scenery.

  He liked the scenery too, but he’d observed it all his life. Today, he was more interested in looking at her. He couldn’t remember any woman who fascinated him as much as Megan. Unlike Chance, he hadn’t limited all of them to one or two dates. There had been a few relationships that he’d thought might actually go somewhere, but over time he’d realized that true love wasn’t part of the equation.

  It wasn’t part of this one either. Yet. But her combination of inner strength and vulnerability intrigued him. Maybe part of his interest was because he had a lot left to learn about her.

  Peters still hadn’t turned up anything new. There were around eight hundred Smiths in the San Angelo phone book. He and Dub agreed that it would be a waste of time to try to sort through them all. It might not even be her mother’s name.

  The detective had checked school records, though Will didn’t know how he got access to them. Peters knew all the tricks and had a lot of contacts, but he didn’t discover any information on a Megan Marie Smith. There wasn’t one in the system for any of the years she would have attended.

  Will stopped and added a dozen more cows and calves in the little notebook. When he started up again, he noticed a tiny frown knitting her brow. “You okay?”

  She nodded and looked at him. “These little bunches of cows are sure spread out. How big is this pasture?”

  “Five thousand acres. The east portion is hilly and has some steep ravines so it’s not as big as some of the others.”

  “Five thousand acres sounds big to me.”

  He drove around a large prickly pear cactus. “It isn’t when the ranch has sixty thousand. Where the terrain is flat and doesn’t have a lot of brush, we have a couple of pastures that are ten thousand acres. This is arid country, so it takes a lot of land to support one cow and calf. When we’ve had good winter and spring rains and the grass is plentiful, we’ll put cattle in every pasture. In normal years, like this one, when the grass gets low in one pasture, we move them to another one that hasn’t been grazed.”

  “Does the grass grow back in the first one?”

  “If we get enough rain. But having lived in San Angelo, you know that’s unusual in West Texas.”

  “Most of the time I didn’t care one way or the other, but if we lived where there was grass I was happy if it didn’t rain. Then I didn’t have to run the lawn mower.”

  “So you got stuck with that.”

  A fleeting grimace passed over her face. “And everything else. My mother isn’t exactly the domestic type.”

  Isn’t, as in present tense. So her mother was still around. “Does she have a career?”

  “No.” The word was a quarter-inch shy of curt.

  “So what type is she?” he asked, keeping his voice casual.

  Her jaw clenched for a second, and when she turned to him, the hardness in her eyes told him he was treading on dangerous ground. “A drunk and a freeloader who likes to party. And she’s not real particular who provides the booze.” She took a deep breath and added softly, “Or what she has to do to get it.”

  “Was she always that way?”

  “Yes.”

  He stopped the truck under the shade of a mesquite and shut off the engine. When she shot him a worried glance, he lightly rested his hand on her shoulder. “So you left home at sixteen, when you could work full time?”

  She nodded. “On my sixteenth birthday, I got up like always but went to the bus station instead of school. I’d worked as a dishwasher and bussed tables at a local cafe since I was fourteen, but the hours were limited by law. I saved as much as I could, so I would have a little when I left.”

  “You headed to Austin?”

  “Yes. I lived in a homeless shelter until I found a job.”

  “That must have been tough.”

  She shrugged and shifted position. “My mom and I had lived in them some when I was a kid, so I knew the ropes. It didn’t take too long to find work. The owner of the cafe gave me a letter of recommendation.”

  Will frowned and moved his hand down to the console. “He knew you were leaving?”

  A faint glimmer of amusement touched her face. “She knew I was leaving. I didn’t tell her I was going by myself, but I think she had it figured out.”

  “What did your mom do?”

  “I expect she had a big party. She’d blown through what she got from her third divorce, but her new boyfriend would foot the bill.” She took a deep breath and released it slowly, a cleansing sound instead of a regretful one. “I haven’t talked to her since I left. I’m sure she never missed me, excep
t maybe when she was broke.”

  “She took your money?” He was appalled. Again.

  “As long as she had a husband or boyfriend to take care of her, she left me alone. If she didn’t, she figured whatever I made belonged to her. I got good at stashing it in places where she’d never think to look.” She smiled and rested her hand on her stomach. “Like the bag of the lawn mower.”

  Will chuckled because it was the appropriate response, but his heart ached for Megan. He couldn’t imagine growing up with a mother who didn’t dote on him. Or one who would have been happy to see him leave anytime, much less when he was too young to be on his own.

  He thought of her comment after the tornado. Mostly I just feel like I’ve been beaten up. Had her mother beaten her? Or one of her stepfathers or mother’s boyfriends? Or had something happened when she was on her own?

  He’d felt protective of her from the very beginning, a feeling that had grown in intensity the more he’d gotten to know her. Glancing at her as he started up the pickup, he silently promised that no one would ever hurt her again.

  14

  That evening, Megan chalked up another success as the Callahans devoured the chocolate cake with fresh raspberries sprinkled over the top. She smiled as Will attempted to sneak a berry off her plate. She let him have it, though he wasn’t very stealthy. “For the party, I thought I’d use strawberries for the garnish on one and raspberries on the other. Good idea?”

  “Perfect,” said Emily. “Is this hard to make?”

  “Not really. The only tricky part is wrapping heavy foil tightly enough around the springform pan to keep out the water.” Seeing Jenna’s questioning frown, she added, “The cake pan sits in a pan of water to bake. Getting the water the right height is a challenge too, so you don’t slosh water into the batter. But the rest of it is easy.”

  “More trouble than I have time for.” Ramona licked a bit of ganache off her fork. “But it sure makes a good cake.”

  A knock sounded on the front door, then it opened, and Lindsey and Dalton came inside. Megan had seen both of them at the ranch several times since her arrival. He was as excited as his bride-to-be about their upcoming wedding, which was less than two weeks away.

  Tonight, Lindsey’s eyes were puffy and red, and the normally calm deputy sheriff looked as if he wanted to punch somebody.

  “What’s wrong?” Chance asked as Emily scooted closer to him, making room on the couch for their friends to sit down.

  “There was a fire at the bakery that was supposed to make our wedding cake.” Dalton reached over and took Lindsey’s hand. “So they can’t do it.”

  Tears welled up in Lindsey’s eyes. “I’ve called every bakery in Sweetwater, Big Spring, and Abilene, but nobody will take an order on such short notice. June is just too busy. I don’t know what we’re going to do.”

  Megan hesitated. Unless they wanted something huge and terribly intricate, she could do it. At least she thought she could. Doubt pricked her. Who was she to think she could make something so beautiful for a real wedding? Botching a class project, which she had done, only disappointed her. If the cake for the wedding didn’t turn out, she would hurt Lindsey, Dalton, and everyone else involved. She decided to keep her mouth shut.

  “Megan could make it.” Jenna smiled at her. “You’ve made some before.”

  She sensed Will tense beside her. Did he doubt her ability? “Just in class. I’ve never made one for a wedding.”

  Lindsey’s face lit up. “Would you? I’ve heard about the quilt cake. Everyone who was there said it looked and tasted amazing. I hope you took a picture before they cut into it.”

  “Jenna took one.” Megan’s camera was one more thing that had been lost in the tornado. “I don’t know, Lindsey. A wedding cake is a lot different than a single-layer one. I would feel terrible if you were depending on me, and I couldn’t pull it off.”

  “Of course you can do it.” Emily glanced at Lindsey before focusing on Megan. “If you want to make Lindsey’s cake, go for it.”

  “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” Will propped one boot on the leather edge of the coffee table.

  Who asked him? Megan looked up at him with a frown. “Why not?”

  “You’re liable to get awfully tired. Wouldn’t you be on your feet a lot?”

  “Yes, but I can pace myself.”

  “But will you?” he mumbled. He turned his attention to Lindsey. “Did you try any bakeries in San Angelo?”

  “Yes. I found one that would take the order, but their delivery fee was terrible.”

  “I’ll pay for the delivery if you want to use them,” said Mr. Bossy. “Part of my wedding gift.”

  Megan scooted forward on the couch—no easy feat—and turned to glare at him. “I’d like to speak with you.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Alone.”

  “Uh-oh, you’re in trouble now.” Chance winked at her and grinned at him. “Give him what-for, Megan.”

  Will picked up a pillow from the floor beside the couch and tossed it at his brother. “Mind your own business.”

  Chance caught the pillow and laughed. “Man, talk about the pot calling the kettle black.”

  Will rose easily to his feet and held out his hand. It annoyed her to accept his help, but it made her exit swifter. She heartily disliked people who made a scene, and here she was doing it. It would have been simpler and less disruptive to just quietly tell him that what she did wasn’t up to him.

  She noticed Sue’s tiny smile as she moved around the coffee table. Was she smiling because she thought Megan would put Will in his place? Or that he would set her straight? Remind her that she was the hired help and couldn’t just work or not work as it suited her.

  Megan led him down the hall into the TV room. Will closed the door behind them. Hands on her hips, she glared at him. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Trying to keep you from doing something stupid.”

  “Do you think I’ll mess up the cake? Ruin the day for Lindsey and Dalton? Embarrass you in front of your friends?”

  “Why would that embarrass me?”

  “I’m here because of you.”

  “That doesn’t make much sense, Megan.”

  “Key word being much. You obviously think it makes some sense.”

  “I don’t think you’ll mess up the cake. At least not intentionally.” When she started to speak, he held up his hand. “I’m concerned that you’re taking on more than you can handle right now. That you might get too tired, or even sick, and won’t be able to do it.”

  “I finish what I start. Always.” Well, not quite always. She’d been on her way to Lubbock, or Abilene, or Dallas when she got caught by the tornado. She hadn’t reached that goal. Yet. Packing up and leaving were sounding better by the minute. She lowered her hands and walked away from him, returning a few seconds later. “I want to do that cake.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “You’re giving me a headache. Five minutes ago you were worried that you couldn’t do it.”

  “I didn’t exactly say that. I just said it’s a lot different.”

  “And harder.”

  “Not really. Using a lot of colors of icing and making six different quilt patterns was very tedious and time consuming.” She paced back and forth across the room. “I’ll admit the idea of making Lindsey’s cake scared me for a minute. It is a challenge, but unless she wants something crazy, I can pull it off with the techniques I know.” She stopped in front of him. “I suppose you mean well . . . ”

  “I do.”

  “I need to do this, Will. If it’s good enough, there might be orders for more.”

  “To supplement your income.”

  “Yes. Your mother is very generous, but extra money is always a good thing. I won’t take pay from your mom if she gives me time off to go to Abilene for supplies or to work on a wedding cake,” she added quickly. “And I won’t commit to one later if there is something going on at the museum.”r />
  He laid his hands gently on her shoulders. “Then how will that supplement your income? You’re just trading one job for another.”

  “Not necessarily. Wedding cakes are expensive. A basic cake is usually four dollars a slice minimum. Certain types of icing and decorations run more. I wouldn’t charge that much to start with, but it will have to be enough to cover supplies and my time.”

  “So if you charge three dollars a slice and serve one hundred people, you might net out two hundred dollars, or what you make working for Mom.”

  “I think so. If they want fondant or expensive decorations, I’d have to charge more.” She’d been wanting to rest her hands against his chest since the moment he touched her. She finally worked up the courage to do it. “Even small weddings would be beneficial, because people would hear about me. Larger weddings would actually bring me more money than what I earn from your mom. More importantly, when I leave Callahan Crossing, it would give me another option or at least something to fall back on.”

  “Still determined to leave?”

  “Not really.” When she felt one hand slide around her back, she swallowed hard. “But it’s always wise to have contingency plans.”

  “Pays to be prepared.” He gently nudged her face upward with his knuckle. “For the record, I don’t have any doubts about your ability to create an amazing cake. But I think you have a tendency to try to do too much. Promise me you won’t overdo it. Any of it. Working at the museum, baking wedding cakes, or whatever idea you get in that pretty head of yours. Don’t push yourself too hard. I care about you, Megan. I don’t want anything to happen to you or Sweet Baby.” He dropped a light kiss on her forehead, and she thought she just might swoon like the ladies of old. “So promise me you’ll take good care of yourself.”

  “I will.” She hoped he couldn’t hear her heart pounding. “I’m not going to do anything to harm my baby. I’d appreciate it, though, if you’d quit trying to run my life.”

  He released her and gave her one of those buckle-your-knees smiles. “Sorry, can’t do that, sugar. Ridin’ herd on people is what I do best.”

  How could he annoy her and charm her at the same time? “You are an exasperating man, Will Callahan.”