A Home in Hill Country (Harlequin Heartwarming)

by Rustand, Roxanne

  “Is that fair?”

  “I don’t want them to know just yet,” she amended. “I’ll tell them in a couple months. Until then, I want good memories for them, not sad ones.”

  “You’re wrong, Lydia.”

  “Am I? Take a hard look at what you stole from me all those years ago. What you stole from the boys. And then tell me you don’t owe us all this one good thing.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  ON TUESDAY NIGHT, Ryan took Kristin to dinner along the Riverwalk in San Antonio, then to a raucous, honky-tonk dance hall that might have come straight out of an old Western movie, where they laughed and danced until she was almost too dizzy and giddy to stand.

  They made it back to Homestead at two in the morning, then curled up on her couch in front of the fireplace, slipping easily back into the old camaraderie they’d had in college.

  Not until he’d regretfully glanced at his watch and stood up had he kissed her. Only caution and common sense had helped her step away, but an hour later, she still felt his touch.

  On Friday night RaeJean happily babysat Cody again, this time with plans to take him out to Nora’s ranch where they would have a cookout and a moonlight trail ride. Meanwhile Ryan took Kristin to a quiet little restaurant on the south side of Austin, where the jazz was smooth and the seafood superb.

  This time, they lingered on her porch until very late, listening to oldies on the radio and the coyotes howling up in the hills.

  Ryan glanced at his wristwatch and then unfolded himself from the pile of pillows on the porch swing. He held out a hand to help Kristin up. “Guess I’d better head back,” he said, his voice gravelly with the late hour and laced with regret. “I promised Trevor I’d help move cattle in the morning.”

  “It’s morning already. You aren’t going to get much sleep.” Darkened with five o’clock shadow and cast in deep relief by the moonlight, his lean, hard face was so compelling she couldn’t resist touching his cheek.

  He caught her hand and held it, warmth in his eyes. “You’re just as beautiful as you ever were, Kristin.”

  He’d be gone in less than two months. She’d already accepted that he wouldn’t stay. But for now, she could build memories…memories that would have to last a lifetime, because no one would ever take his place in her heart.

  “You’re even more handsome now, if that’s possible,” she replied, feeling breathless.

  “Thank you for a great night.” He started to back away, but she kept hold of his hand. He let her pull him back toward her, and then bent down to kiss her. When she could take it no longer, she gently pushed him away.

  “Go. You need sleep before you have to move those cows.”

  He grinned at her. “Sleep is overrated,” he said as he made his way down her steps.

  She watched him leave until she couldn’t see his taillights anymore.

  SHE AWAKENED to a persistent jangling coming from her bedside table.

  Startled, she sat up and scooped her hair away from her face, then scrambled to reach the phone in time.

  “This is Sheriff Wade Montgomery, calling you about that fender.”

  Her initial panic at hearing the word sheriff faded. “And?”

  “Never would’ve expected the results back in a week, but I indicated that this was part of a murder investigation, and they got right on it. If you have a fax out there, I could send a copy of the report.”

  Disappointed, she sagged against her pillows. “There’s one at the clinic, but not here.”

  “We-e-el, if you’ve got a pencil handy, you can jot this down, and you can pick up a copy of the report here at the office anytime.” He cleared his throat. “Traces of something called ocean green were on that fender. The techs found it only in that one narrow gouge we saw. It was not a previous layer of color on the fender.”

  “So what is that exactly?”

  “They tell me it’s a metallic, deep blue-green, one that would sparkle quite a bit in the sun. Apparently it wasn’t very popular, because the company stopped making it eight years ago.”

  She sat up straighter. “So now we know the vehicle’s color, which has to be unique to certain models and years, right? You can locate the vehicle and its owner?”

  The long pause on the other end of the line warned her even before Wade spoke. “This color was never a car manufacturer’s proprietary stock item.”

  “And that means?”

  “It isn’t exclusive to a make and model. It was made by a small company in Utah and sold across the country, Kristin. There’s no way to identify a make, model and year through any registration database. I’m sorry, but unless someone has seen a vehicle like that and can give us a clue, we’ve hit a dead end.”

  AFTER MOVING CATTLE into the south pasture all morning, Ryan took a shower and went to the office to get to work, though his thoughts were mostly on Kristin and the kiss they’d shared under the stars.

  He’d never intended to go this far. Had never wanted to make connections that would hurt her when he had to leave. But every last bit of resolve disappeared when he spent time with her, and now…he was starting to have trouble even imagining a future without her in his arms.

  But he had nothing to offer her. Nothing long-term. He’d failed in so many ways. Here at the ranch, when he hadn’t measured up to his father’s standard. In the service, where he’d failed to save all those children in the hospital explosion. With her, when she’d abandoned him in college.

  He’d be leaving the Four Aces soon. There was nothing for him here—certainly not the ranch. Where he went next was anybody’s guess, but Kristin and her son had roots here.

  He just needed to concentrate on that fact before they went any farther down a road that would only hurt her when he left. Tonight, maybe…

  Garrett wandered into the office and perched on the edge of the desk, watching Ryan sort through the current bills and the invoices that would need to go out in the mail.

  “Felt pretty dang good to be on a horse again,” Garrett said, gingerly testing his ribs. “Three weeks on foot and I was about goin’ stir-crazy.”

  Shoving aside his melancholy thoughts, Ryan rocked back in his chair. “Tell me you aren’t going off to some rodeo again this weekend.”

  “Okay, I’m not.” Garrett shrugged.

  Ryan raised a brow. “Now tell me the truth.”

  “Truth is, Jackhammer took some of the fun out of it for me. Leastways, for now.”

  “He could’ve done more than that.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m thinking I need less excitement in my life.” Garrett picked up a horseshoe serving as a paperweight and hefted its weight in one hand. “I’ve been thinking about getting back into reining horses. Trev has been hauling our halter and pleasure horses, but maybe we could diversify a little.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  Garrett regarded him through narrowed eyes. “So what about you? And don’t tell me you’re going back into the service. I’ve seen you gimp around in the morning, and that knee isn’t going to take you into active combat. Not your shoulder, either.”

  “Seems there’s a lot of people pretty eager to tell me that, but nothing has changed.” Ryan pointedly swiveled his chair to face the computer screen and got to work.

  “You could take a medical discharge and stay here.”

  “Right. Dad certainly would be thrilled.”

  “We could sure use you.” Garrett pushed off from the desk and strolled toward the door. “And just think about that pretty little neighbor. I have a feeling she wouldn’t mind having you on this side of the world.”

  Clint walked in just minutes after Garrett walked out. “What’s this about you convincing Garrett to quit rodeo?”

  “No idea.” Ryan spared Clint a brief glance, then continued adding a list of numbers.

  “He says you finally made him ‘see the dangers of rodeo’ and he’s going to start training reining horses instead.”

  Ryan laughed. “My little brother
is matchmaking, I think.”

  Clint looked at him blankly.

  “He wants me to stay here. He wants you and me to get along so that can happen.”

  Harrumph. Clint rifled through the stack of bills on the desk, tapped them into a neat pile.

  “Crazy, huh?” Clint didn’t answer. “Another crazy thing around here is that you’re wrong about Nate Cantrell—at least in part—and you don’t want to admit it.”

  “I’m not going to argue. It’s been analyzed six ways to Sunday.”

  “Maybe so, but hiding your head in the sand doesn’t make something right. And if you’re all so sure, why did Leland ask me to report anything I found that was unusual? I’d guess you both still have questions.” Ryan reached into a desk drawer and pulled out an accordion file tied with a string, and dropped it on the desk with a thud. “Just look at this.”

  Belatedly, he realized what he’d said to a man whose vision was failing, and he added in a softer tone, “I’ve now gone through everything I can find from the last four years—so two of those years predate Nate. I’ve got falsified invoices here. Withdrawals that don’t make sense. Some cancelled checks that don’t match the invoices or even their own stubs.”

  Clint reached for the file, then his hand dropped back to his side, his jaw working.

  “I’ve tried to talk to you about this before, Dad. So what do you want to do about it? Cody Cantrell is convinced his grandpa is a criminal. Since Nate’s death, there’s been gossip about him, and that hurts both the boy and his mom.”

  “You’re saying that an accountant, a P.I. and a lawyer all lied? You waltz in here, tell me I’ve been played for a fool for years?” Clint’s voice rose, with an angry and defensive edge. “I always go with the sure bet…the opinions of people I trust.”

  Ryan stared back at him, the finality of Clint’s words hitting like rifle fire. Well aimed and deadly. “Then I guess that says it all, Dad.” He pushed away from the desk and rose to his feet. “You work on these invoices for a while. I’m going for a long walk to clear my head, and then I’ll work on moving up my own plans. I should be able to get out of here in three weeks, if not two.”

  CLINT SAT AT THE DESK and wearily rubbed his eyes, knowing he couldn’t work on the books even if he wanted to. It was awful getting old. Worse, to see his independence fading and his world gradually crumbling around his feet.

  What if the embezzler had been Oscar? Ryan was right about the financial mess predating Nate’s arrival, but Clint’s greater worry had been over Garrett.

  Clint had let the boy go his own way, giving him free rein with those rodeos and the space and freedom to finally grow up and fulfill all of his promise as a Gallagher. But the boy had been perpetually in debt since the age of eighteen, and had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar more than once.

  Over the past few years Clint had had suspicions, but hadn’t realized the full extent of the losses until after Nate died. Maybe all three had betrayed Clint’s trust, but it was too late to change a thing.

  Whatever happened, he knew there’d be no recovery of the money. And either way, the situation illustrated his own appalling, downward slide. The need to hand over the reins of the family corporation before it was too late.

  Picking up the phone, he speed dialed Leland’s local office. After reaching only a recording, he tried Leland’s cell phone, then his main office in San Antonio.

  The secretary—an old battle-ax who’d been with him longer than she should have—announced that Leland was out of town, but would return the call as soon as he could.

  Clint glared at the receiver, fighting the temptation to pitch it against the wall.

  So much of his life was changing, he felt as if he were teetering on the brink of an abyss with no one to pull him back.

  According to Adelfa, Reverend Holden had suffered a massive stroke just yesterday morning, and no one in town knew if he was even going to make it. Yet last Sunday, he’d delivered one of his longest sermons ever, as if he had all the strength in the world. The news had chilled Clint to the bone.

  But his own life would soon get back to normal.

  He’d already put in a call to a doctor in Austin, who would know where Lydia could go for more experimental treatments. Ryan, with his insistent notions about Nate and the ranch books, would soon be gone. Garrett was finally coming around to the right way of thinking.

  And—in a few months—it would be time to declare for the upcoming Senate campaign and one more term in office.

  A man had to take control and make things hap pen. It was as simple as that.

  RAEJEAN, NORA AND CODY arrived back at Cedar Grove Farm just minutes after Kristin showered and dressed on Saturday morning.

  Cody burst into the house and dropped his duffel bag on the floor, then flew over to Kris and nearly tackled her with a good-morning hug. “Wow, Mom. That was sooo cool! We went riding, and it was dark out. The moon and stars were so bright we could see everything. And then we had a cookout way up on a hill, and we could see the glow of the lights clear over to San— San—”

  “San Antonio,” Nora said, stepping into the living room with RaeJean at her heels. “You’ve got quite a cowboy here. Good little rider.”

  Cody beamed at Nora over his shoulder. “My horse was Pancho, and he bucked. And I didn’t even fall off!”

  “Oh, my.” Kristin hugged him back, savoring his warmth and vibrant excitement, thankful he’d had a good time with his two great-aunties. “Then again, you come from good ranching stock. The Cantrells go way back in this county.”

  “Yeah. How many kids have aunts who ride like that? Even Aunt RaeJean!”

  His incredulity was so over the top that RaeJean laughed. “He’s thinking that a Texas woman can’t be decorative and capable at the same time. Little does he know.”

  “So it went well?”

  “Every minute.” Nora’s voice turned wistful. “Would have been nice to have a few little cowpokes running around at my spread all these years. You be sure and send him over anytime.”

  “Do you two have time for coffee? I can make some in a flash.”

  RaeJean shook her head. “Carlita opened the shop for me this morning, but I’ve got late-morning appointments.”

  Nora nodded. “And I’ve got to take RaeJean back to her place so she can get her car, then I’ve got to pick up a colt in Llano.”

  Kristin followed them out to Nora’s pickup. “I can’t thank you enough for taking care of Cody. It gave him a chance to get to know you two better, and I think he loved every minute.”

  “Not any more than we did,” RaeJean said. “You can be real proud of that boy.”

  Kristin hesitated, knowing RaeJean’s propensity for gossip. “If I ask you something, can you keep it between the three of us?”

  “Of course,” RaeJean exclaimed.

  “A while back, you told me some details about my father’s car crash, Nora. You mentioned thinking that you knew who was responsible.”

  Nora hitched a shoulder. “Weeellll…I have my suspicions, is all. Can’t throw a cat in any direction and not hit someone who figures Clint Gallagher pulls the strings in this county.”

  “I needed more to go on than hearsay, so I’ve been doing some research. I found a front fender from Dad’s truck at Buddy’s Auto Shop.”

  RaeJean’s hand went to her mouth. “Oh, my.”

  “The truck itself is gone, but this fender shows marks on it—possibly, paint residue from a vehicle that might have run Dad off the highway.”

  “Like I always thought,” Nora said, her mouth a grim line.

  “Trouble is, the residue isn’t from an original paint job. If it was, maybe the sheriff could’ve checked VIN numbers and manufacturer records, and at least come up with a list of possibilities. Someone repainted this car a dark, sea green.”

  Nora’s brow furrowed. “The Four Aces trucks have always been black, same with Clint’s Lincolns. That oldest boy has a silver truck, but he hasn�
�t been around all that long.”

  RaeJean nodded. “In a town this size, we’d probably remember an unusual color like that, but I can’t think of a single one. The Bates boys race fancy stock cars, but they paint theirs bright yellow, with loads of emblems plastered everywhere.”

  Kristin gave each of them a farewell hug. “Thanks anyways. If you think of anything, just give me a call.”

  Maybe her aunts hadn’t seen the car in question, but she was closer to finding out the truth, she could feel it. Soon she’d be able to clear her father’s name and he could finally rest in peace.

  Her mood lifted as she remembered the evening ahead. After going out for dinner with Ryan twice, she’d offered to make him dinner here instead.

  She’d picked up flowers for the table yesterday, along with new tapers and dusty rose placemats. The flank steaks were already marinating in her favorite bourbon and honey mixture, and soon she’d need to start on the twice-baked potatoes and banana cream pie.

  A quiet evening here would be lovely, and after Cody went to sleep, they could turn on the stereo and dance out in the moonlight. This would be another wonderful evening with him, building another memory to savor.

  As much as she’d tried to convince herself otherwise, this was not a friendship. She wasn’t just falling in love…she’d never stopped, despite the heartbreak of years past.

  And if her wishes came true, maybe it wouldn’t have to end.

  CODY HAD LONG SINCE gone to bed, and the dishwasher was humming. Candlelight flickered in the darkened living room, mirroring the dying flames in the fireplace.

  Ryan brushed a lock of hair behind Kristin’s ear, feeling inestimable sadness as he looked into her lovely face. Her skin glowed in the dim light, her eyes were dark and luminous and soft.

  “That was the best meal I’ve had in years,” he murmured. “You are amazing.”

  “It’s the Cantrell family’s secret marinade. Guys fall for it every time.” Her eyes twinkled. “Just wait until you try the pie. You’ll be my slave forever.”