Texas Lawman

by Ginger Chambers

  Jodie glanced at Tate, who’d remained standing a short distance from the porch, his badge gleaming on his tan uniform. She wondered how he’d react if she fudged the truth.

  Instead of abandoning her to her own devices, though, he said easily, “It’s never any trouble to see a pretty young lady home, Miss Parker. It’s one of the perks of the job. Now if you’ll excuse me, I better be on my way.”

  His level brown gaze met Jodie’s, and when it did, something inside her stirred.

  “You sure you don’t want to come inside, Tate?” Rafe invited.

  Tate shook his head. “Better not.”

  Shannon pushed her way through the group on the porch. “Jodie? It is you!” she exclaimed. “Let me see what you did to yourself. Oh...your hair!” A slight pause. “It looks great. Such a change!”

  “Looks like she’s tryin’ to be someone else,” Mae grumbled.

  “I’m still me, Aunt Mae,” Jodie said.

  As the others started to file into Mae’s house, LeRoy said, “I’ll go wake Harriet. She’ll kill me if I let her miss this.”

  “The boys are asleep, too,” Shannon confided to Jodie, “but believe me, we don’t want to wake them. They’re like bears when they’re disturbed. Typical Parker men.”

  Jodie joined in the general laughter, but something made her look back at Tate. He was already at his patrol car pulling open the door. That same something made her break away to join him.

  If Tate was surprised, he didn’t show it. “Back in the bosom of the family,” he taunted softly. “All safe and sound.”

  It had always been like that between them, him treating her like a spoiled brat! It wasn’t her fault she’d been born into one of the oldest and most influential families in the area. She’d never traded on her name—expecting favors or asking for them. But he didn’t seem to see it that way.

  “Thanks to you,” she returned with just as much mockery. “You never know what kind of pervert might be hiding behind a creosote bush.”

  “No, you don’t,” he agreed solemnly.

  Jodie ran a finger along the rim of the car door. She had something to say and she needed to say it quickly before she got cold feet. “Thank you for not telling Aunt Mae you stopped me for speeding.”

  “You looked in enough trouble already. I didn’t need to add more.”

  “Still...thanks.”

  His gaze flickered to her altered hair. “If you’d wanted to set the cat among the canaries, you couldn’t have made a better choice.”

  “I didn’t do it to cause trouble.”

  “You didn’t?” he scoffed. Then before she could reply, he continued quietly, “It’s good to have you home again, Jodie. The place hasn’t been the same without you.”

  The slight huskiness in his voice did odd things to Jodie’s equilibrium. She took refuge in prickliness. “Why?” she challenged, “Because no one else keeps things stirred up?”

  He smiled slightly. “You could say that.”

  His gaze remained steadily on her, and Jodie found she couldn’t look away. It took a call from the police radio to break them apart.

  As he slid into the driver’s seat and reached for the hand mike, Jodie took an uncertain step backward. She listened as he made a clipped comment, then broke off. When he looked at her again, his expression was grim.

  “There’s been a knife fight over at Mike Newman’s. One of his cowboys is hurt pretty bad. I have to get over there.” He’d started the engine while still talking, but before pulling away he swept her with another look. “Guess I’ll see you around again sometime soon, hmm?”

  Jodie nodded. Her insides were still all quivery. Why? She’d gotten over her schoolgirl crush on him years ago. Years and years ago!

  “Jodie!” Mae hailed her from the porch. “What are you doing out there? Everyone’s wantin’ to talk to you!”

  “I’ll be right there, Aunt Mae,” Jodie called back, then with a tentative smile at Tate, she hurried inside.

  CHAPTER TWO

  JODIE LUXURIATED lying in bed the next morning, listening to the sounds she’d awakened to for most of her life. The distant harmony of men’s voices, lowing cattle and, occasionally, cars and machinery starting up and moving off. A warm June breeze ruffled the window curtains, bringing with it the sweet smells of grasses and flowers and earth. With all the places she’d visited this past year, none had inspired this same swell of feeling. Which surprised her, because she’d seen some pretty amazing things.

  There was a tap on her door, and her father came in carrying a tray. “I wasn’t sure you’d be awake, but I took the chance. You still like a good strong cup of coffee first thing in the morning?”

  Jodie struggled to sit up as he placed the tray on her bedside table. When she saw he’d included not only coffee but a piece of toast spread with her favorite blackberry jam, she protested, “You didn’t have to do this, Dad.”

  “I know.”

  Jodie caught his hand. “I thought of you often, especially in Italy. So many wonderful art museums and so much beautiful scenery. It’s completely different from here. I could just see you scrambling around, trying to paint everything.”

  “Here’s not so bad,” her father said mildly.

  “I know, but—”

  “Aunt Mae was real fired up when you turned down that job. She’d had to pull a lot of strings.”

  “I didn’t ask her to pull any.”

  He smiled. “Then you took off, which was probably the smartest thing you could’ve done. What time does she want to see you this morning?”

  “Eleven.” Jodie frowned. “How’s she doing, Dad?”

  “Compared to what? A whirlwind?”

  “I don’t know,” Jodie said, shrugging. “It just seemed, last night, as if she’s suddenly...older.”

  “She is older! But she’s the same Mae as ever. Cantankerous, determined, with a temper hotter’n a pistol when you don’t do somethin’ the way she wants.” He looked at Jodie, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he teased, “You’ll be able to see for yourself at eleven.”

  Jodie groaned. “Maybe I should have stayed in Europe!”

  Her father ruffled her short hair. “She sure didn’t like this very much, either. Every time she looked at you last night she ground her teeth. I swear, I thought she’d picked up termites in her house until I found out what that noise was.” His fingers stilled. “Your hair used to be the same color as your mother’s, the same bright copper that bums like a flame when the sun hits it.”

  Jodie moved her head away. Her mother was a subject they’d always avoided.

  “Is it permanent?” her father asked.

  “It’s a rinse. It’ll wash out in three or four shampoos. I did it in London because I felt like it.”

  “To get a rise out of us? Out of Mae?”

  Jodie frowned. “Why does everyone automatically assume that?” First Tate, now her father. Couldn’t a person just do something and not have everyone make a big deal of it? But then, on the Parker Ranch everything was a big deal if it went against the common thought. Against Mae’s thought.

  Her father patted her shoulder. “Drink your coffee before it gets cold. Aunt Mae wants to see me before she sees you. I think she has an errand for me to do in town, so if I’m not around when you come out—Say, how’d you like me to return your rental car, since I’ll probably be goin’ that way?”

  “That would be great! But I’d rather she let you have the day off. I mean, it has been a year since we’ve seen each other.”

  He moved to the door. “I imagine she expects we’ll have lots of time to catch up.”

  “What if I plan to leave again soon?” Jodie countered, irritated with her great-aunt for making assumptions.

  Her father stopped dead in his tracks. “You plannin’ on leavin’ soon?”

  Jodie shook her head. “No, no. I’m here for a couple of months at least.”

  He found his smile again. “Well, all right. For a minute there I
thought...” His smile broadened. “I’m just glad to have you home again, honey. Real glad. We all are.”

  Her father’s words rang in her ears as Jodie sipped her coffee and nibbled on her toast. Everyone was glad to see her. They’d welcomed her back into the family circle without a moment’s pause. Harriet had even burst into tears.

  A special family dinner was planned for tonight and, later in the week, on Friday night, a huge barbecue with friends and neighbors invited. Jodie had protested, saying she’d rather keep things low-key. But her wishes had been swept aside.

  “Buck up, Jodie,” Shannon had whispered when she’d noticed her tight expression. “Mae’s been counting the days until you came back. Let her have her fun, then you can make a stand.”

  The trouble was, Mae had been riding herd on the family for so long that making a stand was nearly impossible. Her great-aunt thought it was her right to direct everyone’s life.

  Jodie sighed, checked the bedside clock, then hurried off to bathe and dress. The dreaded hour was fast approaching.

  MARIE, MAE’S HOUSEKEEPER, passed on Mae’s instructions that Jodie was to report directly to her private office. Before allowing Jodie to proceed to her fate, though, she confided that if she’d had the same opportunity to travel when she was young, she’d have done it no matter what.

  “I think what you did was wonderful. And so would she—” Marie gestured toward Mae’s office “—if she’d thought of it first. And your hair—I like it!”

  Jodie’s lips twitched. Marie and her camp-cook husband, Axel, having no children of their own, had formed a strong attachment to each of the Parker children living on the ranch. Jodie’s early abandonment by her mother had especially pulled at their heartstrings. As she’d grown up, Jodie had spent many an hour in Marie’s kitchen under the guise of helping her, while in reality they’d chattered endlessly about any and everything. “Thanks,” she said softly, and kissed the housekeeper’s cheek.

  Then, carrying herself with dignity, she walked down the hall. She’d taken special care with her appearance, using a minimum of makeup and wearing her most conservative dress—a navy blue knit, buttoned fully to the neck. Nothing had been left to chance, from her tiny gold earrings to the delicate shell cameo that was pinned at her throat.

  Last night’s butterflies again took wing as she paused outside the office door. Then she opened it.

  The room was exactly as it always had been: book-lined walls, a sitting area to one side and her aunt’s highly polished rosewood desk positioned perfectly to assert dominance over anyone who entered.

  Her aunt was seated behind the desk writing in a journal. She seemed unaware of Jodie’s presence until Jodie murmured, “Aunt Mae.”

  The white head, hair caught on top in a smooth knot, snapped up. “You’re late,” she said tartly.

  Jodie checked her watch. “Only a minute.” Then, before her aunt could launch into further criticism, Jodie continued, “Aunt Mae, I want to apologize. I never did thank you for arranging that position for me with Mimi Henderson. I thanked her when I turned it down, but I never—”

  Mae cut her off. “What good are apologies after so much time has passed?”

  “It’s better than nothing surely.”

  “Not in my book.”

  “Aunt Mae—”

  Mae slapped the journal shut. “It’s one thing to turn Mimi down. It’s another thing entirely to disappear for a year!”

  “I didn’t disappear!”

  “What would you call it, then? We barely heard from you!”

  “I wrote. I called.”

  “When you felt like it—which wasn’t very often.”

  “Aunt Mae—”

  “Don’t ‘Aunt Mae’ me,” Mae scolded.

  Jodie shifted from foot to foot. She had been lax about keeping in touch. But it was for this very reason, to avoid what was happening now.

  Mae’s hawklike eyes narrowed as if she sensed a weakening. “I raised you like my own daughter since before you could walk. I didn’t teach you to be inconsiderate.”

  “I didn’t do it to be inconsiderate, only to avoid unpleasantness. This kind of unpleasantness.”

  Mae’s features tightened. “Surely you didn’t think you could just waltz home and no one would say a word?”

  “No, I knew you’d be bound to say something.”

  Mae glared at her. Then she motioned for Jodie to accompany her to the sitting area. As they settled on either end of the dark green couch, she asked stiffly, “Did you get anything of value out of your year away?”

  “I believe so.”

  “What?”

  “An appreciation of life outside Texas. Different people, different places, different ways of thinking.”

  “Better ways?” Mae demanded sharply.

  “Sometimes, yes,” Jodie replied honestly.

  Mae shook her head and tisked. “How can a Parker say that?”

  Jodie rolled her eyes.

  Mae saw and demanded, “Are you still ashamed of who you are? Is that why you did what you did to your hair? But if that’s the case, why’d you choose black? It just makes you look more like one of us.”

  The physical resemblance among the family members was striking—black hair, black eyes, strongly carved features. Jodie had always been the odd person out with her coppery-red hair, hazel eyes and gamine-like features. Her goal in London, though, hadn’t been to look like a Parker. That had been the last thing she wanted.

  Mae watched her keenly. “You are still ashamed,” she said flatly, answering her own question. “I’d hoped...” She sighed. Then, shoulders sagging, she murmured, “I’m too old for this, Jodie. There’s not all that much time left.”

  Her great-aunt seemed to undergo a transformation right in front of her eyes. The fierce matriarch changed to a tired, frail, overburdened woman who looked every one of her eighty-eight years. Then the illusion vanished. Mae’s shoulders were back in place, her chin jutted forward, a defiant look in her eyes.

  Had she only thought she’d seen something? Jodie wondered. Confused, she failed to register Mae’s next words and stammered, “Wh—what did you say?”

  “I said I’m disappointed,” Mae snapped. “You’re too old to behave so foolishly. But it’s not surprising, considering that you always did jump into things without taking time to think ’em through. The best example I can come up with is that mess you got into with that young cowboy.”

  Jodie stiffened. “That was a long time ago, Aunt Mae.”

  “What was his name? Rio, wasn’t it?”

  An old mixture of shame and resentment burned through Jodie. “I was seventeen!”

  “I tried to tell you what would happen. So did Rafe. So did Shannon and Harriet. But did you listen? No. You ran off with him, expectin’ him to marry you. If Rafe hadn’t gotten the truth out of Jennifer Cleary—” the daughter of the rancher whose property bordered the Parker Ranch and who’d been Jodie’s best friend at the time “—Lord only knows what would have come of it!”

  “Well, it wouldn’t have been marriage,” Jodie said bitterly. “That wasn’t part of Rio’s plans, remember?”

  “He just let you think it was.”

  Jodie stood up, rubbing her arms as if they were cold. “Do we have to go through this again?”

  “Then your change of plans at the university,” Mae continued, undaunted. “First you wanted a degree in business. You took all the necessary courses, made excellent grades, then you decided business didn’t interest you. Art history was your cup of tea. So you shifted everything to that, even though it meant adding another year before you could graduate. I tried to talk you out of it, but you were determined. Then, after I went to all the trouble to arrange a position for you at the Hofinze Museum—one of the most respected in the country, I might add—you ran off to play in Europe!”

  “I’ve apologized for that,” Jodie said tightly.

  Mae tugged on Jodie’s arm. “It’s not me I’m worried about, Missy.
It’s you!” she said. “How old are you? Twenty-four? Twenty-five? When I was your age I’d already lived through one world war, the Great Depression and several terrible droughts—one so bad we almost lost the ranch! The way you’re going, you’re just wasting your life! Letting it trickle through your fingers. And what you let trickle through, believe me, you won’t ever get back!” She paused, then asked, “What are your plans? Do you have any? Have you even thought about it?”

  “No,” Jodie admitted.

  Mae sighed in exasperation. “You have to set yourself a goal and work toward it, Jodie. Would you like me to—”

  “I don’t want you to do anything!” Jodie interrupted her fiercely. “I’m perfectly capable of—”

  “There aren’t many art museums out here,” Mae cut in. “Unless you’ve changed your mind about that, too.”

  Jodie’s cheeks were flushed as she walked to a narrow table on which various old family photographs were displayed. An entire range of emotions was washing over her, from the shame she still felt at being duped by Rio to fury at Mae’s scolding. “Do you want me to leave the ranch?” she asked stiffly. “Is that it?”

  “No!” Mae said quickly. “You just got here. And contrary to what you might think, I—we all missed you! What I want, is for you to turn your back on your irresponsible ways. Have the backbone to pick something and stick to it. Make up your mind that whatever it is, you’re goin’ to see it through.”

  Jodie had a hard time meeting her aunt’s eyes. If Mae was frustrated by what she saw as her niece’s continuing inability to settle down, it was nothing to Jodie’s own frustration. She, better than anyone, was aware of her restiveness, of her inability to decide what she wanted from life. Was that natural for someone of her age? Or was it because she was too much like her mother and ill suited for a settled life?

  “Jodie?”

  Jodie looked up.

  Her great-aunt’s expression changed as she crossed to her. “I don’t want to be too hard on you,” Mae said mildly, taking her hand. “Just hard enough to make you understand. You’re the closest I’ve ever come to having a child of my own. Do your old spinster aunt a favor and tell me you’ll try. You’ll at least do that for me, won’t you, Jodie?”