Accidental Hero

by Lauren Nichols

  “UFOs?” Ross chuckled softly. “Where did that come from?”

  Maggie laughed, too, and their mirth echoed off their rocky surroundings. “That plane up there. I saw the lights, and my mind just kind of moved on. So do you believe in them or not?”

  “Let’s see now,” he mused teasingly. “Do I believe that aliens in flying saucers swoop down on unsuspecting humans, beam them up, and have profound telepathic conversations with them?”

  “No, smarty-pants, do you believe there are other life-forms out there somewhere?”

  “Oh. Probably not. But a lot of people in Rachel do.”

  “Rachel?”

  “Rachel, Nevada. It’s a small town in the desert near a high-security air force base. Supposedly there have been mysterious sightings in the area. It’s a real Mecca for alien enthusiasts. The local motel’s called the Little A’le’inn.”

  “My, my. For a nonbeliever, you certainly do have the scoop. How do you know about this?”

  Ross’s uneasy pause before he replied told Maggie that this wasn’t something he wanted to discuss. By the time he answered, his posture had stiffened faintly, and regret had altered the low timbre of his voice.

  “A few years ago, when I was still Comfort’s reigning jackass, Ray Pruitt and I were in Las Vegas. We heard the UFO rumors and decided to drive up there. Rachel’s only about a hundred and forty miles north of Vegas. Anyway, we went...both of us all tanked up after losing at the tables.” Disgust laced his voice as he added, “I did a lot of stupid things that trip.”

  Yes, she imagined he had, Maggie thought, noting the time frame. But that was the past. And the fact that he obviously regretted those things spoke volumes about the man he’d become. “I think it’s safe to say that everyone on the planet’s done something they wish they hadn’t at some point in their lives.”

  “Not like I did,” Ross answered quietly. “I gambled away my half of the ranch.”

  He didn’t speak for a few moments, almost as though he were waiting for her to say something judgmental. When she remained silent, he went on. “After we drove back to Vegas, I was absolutely convinced that I could recoup my losses. So along the way to my big win, I signed forty-seven thousand dollars worth of markers to the wrong people.”

  She wasn’t shocked by the amount, because she had already read the transcript of his court testimony. Nonetheless, she had to comment. “You must have been very upset.”

  “I was. I was sick to the soles of my feet. Then my luck changed. I met a rich doctor in a Vegas bar that afternoon, and ended up spilling my guts—told this fancy Chicago cardiologist my whole life story. He offered to lend me the money to cover my markers if I put up my half of Brokenstraw as collateral. Before I knew it, I was in a lawyer’s office making it all legal.

  “Then—jerk that I was—I asked for sixty grand. I figured the extra thirteen thousand would be enough for me to win everything back, and pay the doc before his convention ended and he left town.”

  “I guess it didn’t work out that way.”

  “Nope. I lost the thirteen grand, too. The doctor—Casey’s first husband—was killed going home from that convention. Turns out, he was a piece of work, too. When he died, Casey was left with nothing but that loan agreement and a mountain of bills.”

  “So Casey came out here to collect on the debt?”

  “Mmm, hmm. That’s how she met Jess.”

  “Quite a saga,” Maggie murmured after a moment. “Is there a happy ending to this story?”

  “Yep. For the next couple of years, all I did was work and sleep—took every extra job I could find. I’ll finish paying Casey back in August. And I don’t gamble anymore.”

  “Not at all?”

  “Not at all. I can’t trust myself to stop once I start. Maggie, I can’t even buy a lottery ticket because I’m afraid that the next time I’ll buy fifty. I don’t gamble. Period.”

  “Good,” she said, relieved. She wanted him strong. Strong enough to earn back the respect of his friends and neighbors. Because whether he knew it or not, he needed their respect. His aunt Ruby had even alluded to that weeks ago at the rodeo. “So now, instead of gambling, you build beautiful log homes and shingle church roofs. Better watch out. The town council will want you to run for mayor.”

  Ross released a short, flat laugh and readjusted the blanket around them. “Fat chance of that happening. Folks around here have long memories. I’m still the guy who did the unthinkable—a rancher who got involved with cattle rustlers.”

  “They have to know you regret that.”

  “What they know is that leopards don’t change their spots.”

  “Not everyone believes those old clichés.”

  “Yeah, well...enough people do.”

  Maggie lifted her chin and faced him. “I don’t.”

  Ross held back a sigh, wondering if she’d say that with such conviction if she realized that even after three years, staying away from the tables was still a battle for him. Like an alcoholic with a yen for booze, his hands still itched to hold a deck of cards. Because the playing, the betting, was fun. At least, it had been when he was winning. But admitting that to Maggie meant revealing just how pathetic and weak he really was, and pride wouldn’t let him do that.

  The bright half-moon threw her features into bold relief, and Ross drank in the dark beauty of Maggie’s eyes, the lips she parted in subtle invitation. She wanted him again...and he wanted her. Even with the distraction of every cricket in the valley chirping, and a universe full of stars overhead, the warmth of her against him was first in Ross’s thoughts. But repeating their lovemaking would be a mistake. She was a respectable woman who deserved better than a man who would make getting her into bed his own personal challenge—which was what he’d done. She was a minister’s daughter; he’d been trouble in boots for most of his life.

  He should never have touched her.

  Ross brought his forehead to hers and closed his eyes. “Oh, damn, Maggie,” he sighed. “I told you not to trust me too much.”

  “You also told me you’d disappoint me. You were wrong about that, too.”

  Just be patient, he almost said. It’s only a matter of time. “It’ll be sunrise in a few hours. We’d better get some sleep.”

  “Not just yet,” she whispered. Then she burrowed warmly into the side of his neck, nuzzled a kiss into that sensitive spot below his ear...and all his self-deprecating thoughts and noble intentions sailed away like dandelion fluff on a spring breeze.

  Threading his fingers through her hair, Ross brought her lips to his and kissed her deeply. Together they let the moonlight and their quickly heating blood take them where they both wanted to go.

  They kept to the high ridges on the way back to the ranch, venturing close to the road only to survey the flood damage and to see that most of the waters had receded into the tall grasses bordering the creek. Maggie’s heart sank when she spotted her car a hundred yards from where they’d seen it last, twisted and wedged between two trees. At the same time, she was thankful that her car was the only loss suffered. Without Ross’s intervention, it could have been far worse. And, she thought—looking for a bright spot—the damage would be covered by insurance. At least she hoped so.

  It was nearly 7:00 a.m. when they rode up to Moe Jackson’s back door. Though they’d passed pools of rainwater in the deeper depressions, the Lazy J and Brokenstraw area wasn’t as low as Clearcut, and appeared to have come through the storm fairly well. Behind her, Ross slid off the horse, then lifted Maggie down from the saddle as Lila hurried outside, letting the kitchen’s screen door bang shut behind her. Words of relief rushed from her lips.

  “Maggie! Ross! Thank goodness you’re all right. The radio said Clearcut was a mess, and the road was closed. Come inside, you must be hungry.”

  Sober-faced, her Uncle Moe thumped out onto the back porch, too, gripping his walker and seeming to stand sentry beside the door.

  St. Peter at the gate, determined to keep a
ll evildoers out, Maggie thought. An awkwardness settled between them as she turned to meet Ross’s eyes, wondering what to say. By now, her uncle’s antagonistic feelings about him were abundantly clear.

  “Go ahead,” he said softly. “I have to get back. If it’s been on the radio that Clearcut was hard-hit, Jess and Casey will be wondering how we made out, too.”

  “We got a phone inside,” a gravelly voice stated from the porch. “No reason you can’t call ’em from here, is there?”

  Surprise hit her first. Then hope bloomed in Maggie’s heart as she turned expecting to see her uncle’s crotchety expression—and watched him open the door wide. Maggie’s gaze rebounded to Ross. The dark blue eyes beneath the brim of his Stetson were just as stunned as her own. But there was something else in those eyes, too. Moe’s unexpected gesture had put a watery shine in them.

  “Would you like to use the phone in the kitchen?” she asked.

  “Come on, come on,” Moe called, “before the house fills up with flies. Hitch your horse to that fence, and come inside, boy. Coffee’s hot.”

  “Thanks,” Ross said, swallowing. He looked away for a moment while his emotions leveled out, then he snatched up Buck’s reins.

  When the horse had been tethered to the rail fence two dozen yards away, and Ross had wiped his boots in the wet grass, they walked up the plank steps to the small back porch. At the threshold, Moe cleared his throat noisily and stretched out a hand to clasp Ross’s. “Thanks for bringin’ her home safe. Lila didn’t sleep all night.”

  “You’re welcome,” Ross said sincerely.

  A knot tightened in Maggie’s throat. To a western man, a handshake meant respect, acceptance—and being invited to “sit at table” was a notch up from that. Maggie waited until Ross had gone inside, then she hugged Moe gently and kissed his whiskery cheek. “Thank you, Uncle Moe,” she whispered. “You’re a good man.”

  “So’s he,” Moe allowed in a low, rough voice. “Now let’s get him to that phone and have us some breakfast.”

  Breakfast in the Jacksons’ blue-and-white country kitchen was a feast. Ross was used to eating hearty in the morning, but Lila’s menu had surpassed every breakfast he’d ever enjoyed. She made pancakes and sausage, biscuits and gravy, grits, scrambled eggs and Texas toast with homemade orange marmalade. He felt like royalty with Lila and Maggie fussing over him, and Moe keeping his coffee cup and orange juice glass filled. For the first time in ages, Ross said a small prayer of thanks. Maybe this “town pariah” thing had finally run its course. Maybe this was the first step toward the life he’d wanted since his cavalier life-style had nearly cost him his home and his freedom.

  “Full?” Maggie asked, refilling her own coffee mug and returning to the chair beside him. She bumped a playful knee against his under the blue-and-white oilcloth table covering, and he smiled and bumped her back.

  “Stuffed.” Ross ran his gaze over her, liking what he saw. While Lila had started breakfast, Maggie had washed her face quickly and brushed her hair, then surrendered the bathroom to Ross. But she still wore her wrinkled, soot-marked beige uniform. She could have changed, but she hadn’t. Ross thought that maybe she’d remained in those clothes because his weren’t in the best shape, either, and she hadn’t wanted him to feel uncomfortable. Her sweetness and consideration made him want to wrap her in his arms again.

  “So you just holed up in that cave all night?” Moe asked, taking a noisy slurp of his coffee and pulling Ross’s attention from Maggie. “Could have already been occupied, if you know what I mean.”

  “That’s right,” Lila said as she put the milk and eggs back into the refrigerator. “Anything from a grizzly to a cougar could have already claimed it.”

  “Thankfully, nothing did,” Ross answered. “We were able to keep the fire going most of the night.”

  There was a rattly knock at the loose screen door. Then the door swung on its hinges, and Reverend Tom Bristol walked into the kitchen. Dressed in a black polo shirt and jeans, and carrying a suitcase, the trim, slightly graying clergyman smiled from ear to ear. “Happy belated Fourth of July, everybody.” His smile turned curious as he took in the unusual smorgasbord filling the breakfast table—as well as the people gathered around it. “What’s all this?”

  As joyful as Ross had ever seen her, Maggie jumped up and rushed to her father. Ross pushed back his chair and stood respectfully.

  “Hi!” Maggie cried, hugging him tightly. “My goodness, I didn’t expect to see you until next week. How long can you stay?”

  “Only until Tuesday,” the reverend said through a chuckle, hugging her back. He winced faintly as he seemed to pick up the odor of smoke on his daughter’s wrinkled clothing. “So what’s going on here with all the food? Did your freezer break down, Lila?”

  Lila laughed, and after pulling the milk and eggs back out of the fridge and setting them down on the countertop, came over to offer her own hug and greeting. “A celebration, that’s what’s going on,” she said. “Are you hungry, Tom?”

  “Famished.”

  Maggie was still glowing. “You remember Ross Dalton, don’t you, Dad?”

  Reverend Bristol extended his hand across the table to clasp Ross’s, smiling pleasantly. “Yes, I remember Ross. How are you, son?”

  “Fine, sir—you?”

  “Fine. Sit down and finish your coffee.” Turning his smile on Maggie again, he ushered her back to the table. “You sit down, too, sweetheart, and bring your old dad up to speed. What’s this celebration all about?”

  For the next several minutes, Maggie retold the tale of her car trouble, the blinding rainstorm and Ross’s rescue, then moved on to their spending the night together in Ross’s “childhood” cave. To Ross’s eternal gratitude, she skipped the parts about having to dry every stitch of clothing she’d been wearing—and making love with him. Still, when she ended with “So it looks like I’ll be buying a new car,” Ross sensed that Maggie’s father knew some pertinent information had been omitted from her story. It was apparent in the way his evaluating gaze kept moving between the two of them.

  That was why, while Lila scrambled fresh eggs and the reverend and Moe caught up on family news, Ross was eager to help Maggie clear away some of the dishes. He was becoming entirely too uncomfortable sitting across the table from Maggie’s obviously adoring and faintly suspicious father.

  Lila stopped him when Ross started to wash the dishes. “Oh, no, you don’t,” she said. “We’re already indebted to you for watching over Maggie. Besides, after your call home, you’re probably anxious to get back to Brokenstraw. I heard you tell Moe that you’d lost some trees to the wind. I’m sure Jess could use a hand.” She heaped Tom’s plate and carried it to the table, then checked the leftover sausage she’d warmed in the microwave and retrieved toast from the toaster. “I take it everything else was okay?”

  “We lost a few shingles on the old barn, but that’s to be expected with winds that high.” Ross sent her a crooked grin. “On the other hand, we won’t have to check the water troughs today.”

  Lila grinned back, then went to Ross and gave him a warm hug. “Thanks again.”

  “You, too, Lila,” he answered, surprised by the sentiment tightening his throat. “Breakfast was great.” He shifted his gaze to Moe and the reverend. “Reverend, good seeing you again.”

  Tom Bristol stood and shook Ross’s hand. “Thank you for taking such good care of my daughter.”

  Ross fought the guilty flush rising in his cheeks and simply nodded, then extended a hand to Moe. “Moe...thanks for everything.”

  “Anytime. And I mean that, boy.”

  “I’ll get your hat,” Maggie said, falling into step beside him.

  After taking it from one of the pegs by the door, she preceded him outside, then walked with him to the fence. Ross had barely pulled on his Stetson and untied Buck’s reins when she snagged his hand and pulled him to the far side of his horse, apparently to shade them from her family’s eyes. Chemistry had t
hem in each other’s arms instantly, kissing deeply. His body remembered her and began to respond; Maggie fitted herself more closely to him.

  Ross sighed as they broke from the kiss, hoping he wasn’t facing a brand new addiction. Two seconds in her arms and his blood was on fire. He looked down into her wide brown eyes—eyes that waited for him to say something. But half of him wasn’t sure what that was, and the other half was scared to death to say anything that might be misunderstood. He was a loner, and he needed to remember that. “I guess you’ll be busy for a while with your dad here.”

  Maggie nodded, her hair lifting in the light breeze. “We have some catching up to do. It’s been over a month since we’ve had the opportunity to just sit and visit.”

  Despite his still-conflicted feelings about her, Ross experienced a strange clenching in his chest, and he had the uneasy feeling that something valuable was slipping away. But why should he think that? Her family was less than thirty yards away, and she had just kissed him. “Then you should. Visit, that is.”

  “He’s all I have since Mom died.”

  “Family’s important,” Ross said, understanding perfectly. “I’d give anything to have my parents back again...have another chance to say some things I never got around to saying when I was seventeen.” He looked back toward the house. “Well... your dad’s probably wondering what happened to you.”

  “Yes, he probably is.” With a familiarity that surprised him, Maggie’s gaze fell to his mouth, and she stretched up on tiptoe to slide the fingers of her right hand into the hair at his nape. Her collar was open, showing the rapidly beating pulse at the base of her throat. “Bye,” she whispered.

  “Bye.”

  Ross lowered his parted lips to hers. But this time, the kiss was soft and gentle, their hands tender and mobile as they stroked backs and touched faces in the way of parting lovers. “Enjoy your time with your dad,” he said quietly.