A Home in Hill Country (Harlequin Heartwarming)

by Rustand, Roxanne

  “I don’t believe—” she hesitated, already seeing the doubt and resigned expectation in his eyes “—that my father’s death was an accident. Maybe someone forced my father off the road, or damaged his truck beforehand.”

  “I understand. Believe me, we all want to second-guess these things a hundred different ways. We want a reason. Something—or someone to blame.”

  “But how do you know for sure?”

  “Once the wrecker got his truck up on the road, we checked it over. There was a lot of rollover damage, but the steering wheel and brakes seemed fine.”

  “But you said the truck was damaged. There could’ve been paint marks from another vehicle, say, ramming into the side of it at that curve? Marks you might’ve missed?” She saw the sympathy in his eyes. “I’d like to see the report.”

  “There was an investigation, ma’am. There was no evidence of skid marks from another vehicle. No witnesses. Interviews of people who knew him well uncovered no enemies.” Wade swiveled his chair, stood and went to a bank of files along the wall. After thumbing through a number of tabbed folders he withdrew one and brought it back to the desk. “I’m not sure if you want to see these. They aren’t of your father at the scene, but the damage to his truck is pretty significant. And…I believe there was some blood.”

  “Please.” She gingerly opened the file to find a slim stack of documents. Behind them was an envelope of photos. Time slowed to a crawl. She dreaded the evidence of her father’s death, yet needed, finally, to put her doubts to rest.

  She dealt the four-by-six color photos out onto the desk, one by one. The crumpled front end of his ’67 Chevy. The twisted bed and tailgate, showing the crushing damage to the roof of the cab—as if a giant had slammed his foot on it. The sides of the vehicle, battered and muddy. Clumps of grass hanging from the jagged spikes where the side view mirrors had been torn away. A narrow streak of bright crimson trailing down the side of the driver’s side door.

  Sadness and nausea welled until they almost clogged her throat. “I—I didn’t realize,” she whispered as she sat back in her chair and rested her fingertips against her eyelids, concentrating on taking slow, even breaths.

  She knew the truck well, because he’d driven it for decades. It had been a dented rust bucket from bumper to bumper even before the accident, a junker pieced together with different colors on each fender and a door painted primer-gray. Rust had already turned the quarter panels to fragile lace.

  It was a truck that spoke of little success and even less hope for the future. Given its condition and preexisting dents, plus the mud and the grass and the damage from the accident itself, finding any sort of evidence would have been a sheer stroke of luck.

  She felt a gentle touch at her shoulder and opened her eyes to find the sheriff offering her a glass of cold water. She accepted it and held it against her cheek, until her stomach quit rolling and she didn’t feel quite so dizzy.

  She managed a smile. “Thank you. I didn’t mean to doubt your investigation, but I needed to know.”

  “I’m sorry about your loss, Ms. Cantrell. Death is hard, but death with no reason is even more difficult.”

  “That isn’t quite what I meant.” She slid the photographs back into the envelope, closed the folder and handed it back to him. “I now know that evidence at the scene would’ve been very difficult to gather, but I’m still not convinced his death was accidental. If I wanted to find that old truck, where would I look?”

  He studied her for a moment. “I know it’s hard to let go of this, but—”

  “I need to find it. Please.”

  He blew out a deep breath. “Out behind Buddy’s Auto Shop. He keeps a lot of old vehicles for parts. But it’s been eighteen months, ma’am. I expect that old truck has been crushed and melted down by now. There wasn’t much left of it as it was.”

  “I hope I can find something, because there’s not much left of my dad’s honor, either.”

  COACHING FOURTH GRADE football had to be about as frustrating as trying to herd cats, but the little fellers were so serious, so determined, that Ryan could only lean against the hood of his truck and grin.

  Few of them could hang on to the ball if it inadvertently landed in their hands. Some of them ran the wrong way, or bent over to study things they found in the grass. The ones who did run the right way tended to trip and fall if they got up too much speed. Cody had missed a half-dozen catches.

  The parents rimming the makeshift football field set up in the school yard were something to watch, too, but he didn’t like them nearly as much. Several fathers were yelling at their sons, impatient and angry, as if the world depended on the next haphazard play. Some of the moms were getting into it a little too much, as well.

  If he was a dad, he’d be cheering his son on….

  But that was as unlikely as a Central Texas ice storm in July.

  He’d dated women along the way and had enjoyed treating them well. But none of them had even come close to making him feel like settling down. None of them since Kristin—and what a big mistake that had been.

  A single male voice, rife with irritation, rose above the others. Ryan shifted his weight against the pickup and scanned the crowd, wishing the jerk would just shut up or leave. What did that do to a kid, hearing his dad berate him in front of everyone else? What kid would even want to try?

  He surveyed the crowd again and then picked the man out of the crowd. He was a tall, slender guy standing off by himself, dressed in some sort of corporate getup. The whole nine yards—a well-cut jacket, crisply pressed pants, perfect hair with every strand in place.

  From the back, Ryan could see that his ears were red with anger and as he turned….

  Teddy Peters. He hadn’t changed that much since college. He still had the pale complexion, splotched now with red patches on his cheeks, the thin, disapproving mouth.

  Ryan turned away in disgust, wondering again how Kristin could’ve ever married someone like Teddy. Of course, she’d given money her highest priority. But how could that have outweighed everything else about someone who’d been such a supercilious fraternity twit in college?

  He and Ryan had never been friends. Seeing the guy in action on campus had been more than enough basis to avoid him.

  Ryan jerked his truck keys out of his pocket, but something made him turn back and search the playing field.

  Hayden was still out there, of course, bursting with energy and having the time of his life.

  But Cody… Frowning, Ryan scanned the field again. Even with the same oversize uniforms on, he’d picked out the boy right away, and now…

  At the far end of the field he finally saw a woman kneeling next to a boy, who stood with his head bowed and his hands hanging loose at his side.

  He knew in an instant that Kristin was trying to repair the damage…and that this was probably his fault. He’d pushed her to get the poor kid’s father here today.

  He ignored the increasing pain in his knee as he strode across the grass to the far side of the parents cheering on their kids, and drew to a stop within inches of Ted. The man was oblivious, still glaring at his son instead of trying to console or praise him.

  “Ted,” Ryan growled. He lowered his voice another notch. “I see you’ve come out here to make your son’s day.”

  Startled, Ted jerked away. “Who—” Recognition dawned in his face as he surveyed Ryan from head to toe, and his smug expression turned to contempt. “Well, look who’s here.”

  “The question is, why you’re here, if all you want to do is belittle your son.”

  “The kid doesn’t even try.” Ted sneered, clearly irritated. “But that’s hardly your concern, is it?”

  Ryan eased farther into the man’s space, crowding him back a step. “It’s the concern of every decent adult here. How do you think you make Cody feel? Special? Loved? Or maybe the issue is how it makes you feel. Give you a sense of power, maybe? Maybe make you feel like a big man?”

  “Look, Gall
agher, back off. I hardly think threatening me in front of all these people is wise. Lay a hand on me, and I have a hundred witnesses.”

  Ryan sensed someone come up behind him, and glanced over his shoulder. An older woman and her husband stood glaring at Ted.

  “Frankly, I think you’re pathetic,” the woman said, her voice hard. “I’ve listened to you for the past fifteen minutes, and I think you should be reported to the county hotline for the way you treat that boy.” Her husband touched her arm, but she shook him off. “I don’t care, Frank. Verbal abuse is every bit as painful as being hit.”

  “I’m not sure all the ‘witnesses’ are on your side, Teddy.” Ryan nodded toward Cody and Kristin. “You’re going over there to apologize to Cody. You’re going to explain that you didn’t mean it, and you’re going to tell him that he’s a super kid. Make him believe it…or I’ll report you myself.”

  Ted stared back at Ryan, then his eyes veered toward the older couple and another woman who’d come to join them. He lifted his chin. “I would’ve talked to him anyway. Stay out of my business.”

  His anger simmering, Ryan held Ted’s gaze until the other man finally broke eye contact and took a faltering step back. “Now, Ted. Undo the damage you did to that poor kid.”

  “It was ridiculous of Kristin to insist I come for this little recess activity, anyway. I left clients. An important meeting. And for what?” Ted stalked toward his son, his back rigid. He lingered for just a few minutes, dropped an awkward pat on Cody’s shoulder, then he got into a gleaming black BMW and drove off.

  It wasn’t enough. Ryan could see that in the boy’s slumped shoulders and the way Kristin was glaring at Ted’s car as he disappeared down the street.

  Kristin had made bad choices. Well, everyone had made some bad ones all those years ago, but it was clear she’d paid dearly.

  Squaring his shoulders, Ryan sauntered over to join her, and hoped he could help make things right for her little boy.

  CHAPTER NINE

  RYAN STAYED a few yards back, unsure whether or not he should interfere with Kristin’s pep talk.

  “Cody, you know your dad gets impatient about things.” Sitting back on her heels, Kristin gave him a conspiratorial smile. “He was never good at sports and he really doesn’t understand them. Believe me, you’re doing a fine job out on that field, and I’m proud of you.”

  Cody pulled off his team shirt and dropped it on the ground. “I’m slow and stupid, and I didn’t even catch the ball. Not once.”

  “You’re just as good as every other boy out there. Fourth graders aren’t supposed to be perfect, and none of those other kids are, either. They’re just learning the basics and practicing so they can get better.”

  Cody’s attention veered to the playing field, where Hayden caught the football on the run and ran the length of the field. The despair in Cody’s eyes spurred Ryan forward and he rested a hand on Kristin’s shoulder. “How much are you doing with him at home?”

  She pulled away and gave Ryan a cold glare as she stood up. “He’s just been to two practices so far. We’ll start playing catch with the football, I suppose. And…whatever the coach tells us to do.”

  “Not enough.” Ryan eyed Cody thoughtfully. “Some of these town kids get to play all the time. All those neighborhood pickup games with their friends give them an advantage.”

  Cody shuffled his feet in the grass and studied his shoelaces, but he was clearly listening to every word.

  “What do you say to throwing the ball with Hayden and me after school? Maybe a couple times a week? You could come home on the school bus with him. He needs the extra work, too.”

  Cody’s head bobbed up in disbelief. “Hayden does?”

  “Well, he’s got the same problem you do—no neighbor guys around. If it’s okay with your mom, you two could practice together. Throwing and catching are important skills in this game.” Ryan cocked his head, taking the boy’s measure. “You’re both strong kids with a lot of talent. What do you say?”

  Cody jammed his hand in his jeans pockets, trying to look nonchalant, but the hope in his eyes gave him away as he turned to his mom. “Can I?”

  “I don’t know.” She bit her lower lip. “I’m sure the Gallaghers are busy people, Cody.”

  “Let me clear it with Hayden’s mom and dad, and then we’ll get back to you. I’ll bet we can work something out a couple times a week.” Ryan glanced over at the coach, who was lining up the two “teams” for another play. “Right now, though, you’d better get over there, so those guys don’t get to learn more than you.”

  Cody flashed a grateful grin at Ryan, jerked on his shirt and sped across the field. His mother shielded her eyes against the late-afternoon sun, her shoulders sagging.

  “I try. Honestly, I try,” she murmured. She smiled wearily at Ryan. “I appreciate what you said to Cody. I just hope it works out to play with Hayden—he’ll be so crushed if this falls through.”

  “I can’t imagine why we can’t get them together one way or another. If Donna has other commitments for Hayden right after school, then you could bring Cody over later. I can certainly make time to work with the boys.”

  A faint blush colored her cheeks. “I imagine everyone here heard Ted being his charming self again.”

  He wanted to ask how she could have married the guy. What it had been like all this time, for her and Cody. But he’d lost the right to ask such personal questions long ago. Instead, he lifted a shoulder in a noncommittal shrug. “I feel sort of responsible. I told you to invite him.”

  “He knew about it, and I’d already planned to remind him, because he should come more often. Maybe he would learn more about his son, and loosen up a little. It hurts Cody terribly that he has so little interaction with his dad.”

  “Kids grow up fast, and you sure can’t go back later.” Though Clint had never had the inclination to spend father-son time with his three boys. “That’s a mistake a man should never make.”

  Kristin seemed to read Ryan’s mind, because her expression grew sympathetic. “You’d be a good father, Ryan.” She glanced across the field, to where Trevor was exchanging high-fives with his son. “Trevor sure is.”

  Not like your father.

  He knew what she was thinking. She’d met Clint only once, when Ryan brought her home to meet the family, and Clint hadn’t been at the ranch long that weekend. Surly and impatient, wrapped up in some sort of political project, he’d been the antithesis of a congenial host…and nowhere close to anyone’s image of a loving parent.

  “That won’t happen for me.” The thought of fatherhood was too foreign to even contemplate. “I look forward to time with my niece and nephew while I’m still here, though.”

  “You haven’t found some pretty little lieutenant in the service?” Kristin teased.

  “I’m not looking.” Uncomfortable, he tipped the brim of his Western hat and started to turn, but she reached out to stop him.

  “Before you leave…I’ve left several phone messages for your dad, and he hasn’t answered. Does he check his machine?”

  “All the time.” Concerned, Ryan searched her face. “What’s wrong?”

  “I just need to talk to him. He needs to come back to the clinic. Soon.”

  “Were his tests okay? The blood work and the EKG?

  “I need to talk to him directly, and then he can decide what to share. I’m sorry, it’s the law.”

  Ryan sighed. The first two visits had been a test of wills. Though Trevor had agreed to making the second trip, only Ryan had been able to coerce that old man into action, and even then they’d been a good fifteen minutes late.

  “I’ll do what I can to get him there, but no guarantees. He wasn’t all that pleased the last time.”

  Watching her as she walked away reminded him of his college days at the University of Texas-Austin, and the hot, early-September afternoon he’d been sitting on a low stone wall outside Benedict Hall waiting for a buddy.

  The pretti
est girl he’d ever seen had walked by, her long blond hair cascading down her slender back, oversize sunglasses partially obscuring her delicate face. She’d stopped a few yards away to hunt through her unwieldy backpack for something, and when a breeze scattered some of her papers onto the grass, he’d considered it his lucky day.

  He’d vaulted over the wall after them, and ended up talking to her for an hour. She was sweet and funny and smart. The fact that they’d both been born in the same small town had given them common ground. For the next six months they’d been inseparable, so sure their love would last forever that he’d proposed to her on Valentine’s Day and taken her to meet his family the following weekend.

  She’d walked out on him the next day, catapulting him from joy to misery in an instant.

  How would their lives have been different if they’d stayed together? Would they have had children Cody’s age? Would they have been happy? Or would they have ended up as just one more divorce statistic, like their parents?

  Every time he saw her, he found himself increasingly drawn to her. But he’d been a fool once and it wouldn’t happen again.

  RYAN PUSHED AWAY from the desk and massaged his left shoulder, trying to work out the pain and stiffness. He glanced at the clock. Only eleven o’clock?

  He’d awakened early and gone out to work Jazz, the young black gelding he’d been riding every day, then he’d helped Trevor with chores. That time had flown. The past two hours in the office had felt like ten.

  After talking to Leland last Saturday, he’d started working on the books, sorting through overdue notes, misfiled papers and a bookkeeping system that seemed to have no system whatsoever. He was ready to pitch the antiquated computer out the window and shovel the contents of the file cabinets into a roaring bonfire.

  If complete records had ever existed, they sure weren’t in this office now. And if Clint walked in one more time and questioned his every move, he was going to pack his duffle bag and catch the next flight back to…