Texas Lawman

by Ginger Chambers

  The youngest of the cowboys living on the ranch, at twenty-two he’d been wild, reckless and bad-boy good-looking, with curly blond hair and light blue eyes. He’d first come to work for them the winter Jodie turned seventeen. Like many of his breed, he was as cocksure of his own attraction for women as he was of his skills working cattle. It didn’t take long for the two of them to notice each other and start seeing each other. On the sly of course, because Mae had been adamantly opposed to any contact between them.

  Jodie’s feelings had gone deeper than rebellion, though. She’d truly believed she loved him. She’d dreamed of marrying him, of having his babies. They’d make a home together, a real home, somewhere faraway from her aunt’s disapproval, where no one had ever heard the Parker name.

  When it looked as if Mae would have her way—she’d wanted Rio dismissed and he finally was—Jodie had run off with him.

  Only to be greatly disillusioned. His feelings didn’t mirror hers at all. Her plans that they would marry were hers alone, and when confronted by the irate members of her family, he’d almost tripped in his haste to get away from her.

  What followed was lost in a hazy cloud of humiliation and pain. Everyone had been kind to her, including Mae, but that did little to heal the hurt.

  She knew she should hate Rio, but she didn’t. Because all these years later she could look back and see what she couldn’t see then: she’d been bored to tears on the ranch, as well as rebellious, and at seventeen, she’d been ripe for the kind of romantic adventure he could offer.

  He was everything Mae and the others had warned her about: unprincipled, untrustworthy, a lothario who took advantage and moved on. But—and she was certain of this—he wasn’t the sort of man to beat a woman. Particularly a woman carrying his child. There wasn’t that kind of violence in him. He specialized in sweet talk to get what he wanted.

  Seven years had passed since she’d seen him. He must still be working cattle, since the young woman Tate had told them about was the daughter of a rancher. Probably someone very much like she herself had been—young and vulnerable.

  Tate could watch out for him all he wanted, but Rio would never show his face here.

  Tate. The name caught hold of Jodie’s thoughts. If she was just a little better at deceiving herself, she might have believed what Harriet had said earlier—that Tate was at last responding to her childhood crush. But what would make him suppose there was anything left for him to respond to?

  Jodie rolled over and stared at the shadows on the wall, remembering the time she’d thought herself in love with him. When, with all the passion of her young and tender heart, she’d longed for a smile exactly like the one he’d given her earlier.

  THE HOUSE where Tate grew up was a small two-bedroom structure that his father had built with his own hands in the months preceding his wedding, a gift for his new bride. It was simple of style and decoration, and not too long ago Tate had given all the woodwork a fresh coat of paint.

  He parked the patrol car and walked up the stone pathway to the front door, where he tapped lightly and let himself inside. “It’s me, Mom. And I’m starvin’ as usual!”

  His mother called from the kitchen, “Come on through. I was just waiting for you to get here to put your steak on.”

  Emma Connelly gave her son one of her lightning-quick looks. “Things go okay out at the Parkers?” she asked.

  Tate lifted the lids curiously on a couple of bubbling pots. “Yeah. Probably wasn’t necessary to tell ‘em, though. Ol’ Mae’ll settle it herself with a shotgun if he shows up at the ranch again. She’s still nursin’ a grudge.”

  Everyone in the vicinity knew about Jodie’s misadventure with the young cowboy. Most had felt sorry for Jodie. A righteous few thought she’d gotten exactly what she deserved.

  “Can’t say as I blame her,” Emma said.

  Tate leaned against the counter. “She sent a message for you,” he said.

  “Who did?”

  “Mae Parker. Said to tell you she’ll stop by to see you the next time she’s in town.”

  “She will?” Emma said blankly.

  Tate’s smile was mischievous. “Yeah. She might even ask you out to the ranch for tea, too. How’d you like that?”

  Emma quickly tumbled to the fact that her son was kidding her. “Actually,” she said, “I might just like it. I’ll put on my fancy duds and brush up on my manners.”

  Tate laughed. “It could happen.”

  “Not in my lifetime. We’re town people, not ranch people. Not to mention being worlds apart when it comes to bank accounts.”

  Money had been tight after Tate’s father died. Very little of the death benefits had been left once they’d paid off their debts. As a boy Tate had done numerous odd jobs for pocket money, then worked steadily in his off-hours throughout high school to help out. Jack Denton had done his best to help, as well, but Tate’s mother was a proud woman, unwilling to take charity even from friends.

  “Go wash up,” Emma urged as she put the T-bone on the broiler. “This won’t take long.”

  Tate did as he was bid and, on his way back from the bathroom, paused to examine the photographs arrayed on the piano. All were images from long ago, and all included his father. Some were of him with Emma, some were of him with Tate and some were of him alone.

  Tate could see much of himself in his father’s face. They shared the same cheekbones and brow, the same jaw and chin, but Dan Connelly’s eyes were green. His expression was open and friendly. He’d been a good law-enforcement officer because he liked to help people. From grisly accident scenes on the highway to a family worried when a child was too long coming home from school—Dan Connelly had always been there to serve his community to the very best of his ability.

  Emma had never remarried, not because she hadn’t had the opportunity, but because she still loved Dan.

  “If you don’t get back quick, I’m gonna toss it out!” she threatened from the adjoining room.

  “I’m coming!” Tate called.

  His mother had to be careful with her meals, balancing her food with her insulin level and her amount of daily physical activity; as well, she tried to eat at approximately the same time each day. It was no surprise to Tate, then, that at this late hour she sat across from him and sipped a glass of iced tea, having already eaten.

  “So,” she said after a moment, “what does Jodie Parker have to say for herself? Does she seem any different?”

  Tate’s fork paused halfway to his mouth and he gave what he hoped was a casual shrug. “Seems pretty much the same to me.”

  “The whole town’s curious. Everywhere I go someone asks. You’re the only one from here who’s spoken to her, you know.”

  “She only just got back!”

  “I know. A couple of their ranch hands came into town—J.J. and Cecil. They only saw her from a distance, but they say her hair’s black now.”

  “Not anymore.”

  Emma’s eyebrows rose. “She took the color out so soon?”

  “Mae didn’t like it.”

  Emma shook her head. “It’s a wonder the girl came back at all! She never did appreciate bein’ told what to do.”

  Tate washed his bite of steak down with a long swallow of chilled beer. “Hair looks better natural.”

  “So you noticed that, hmm?”

  “Only in passing,” Tate lied.

  His mother sat forward, grinning mischievously. “You know, Tate, I’ve told you before I wouldn’t object if you got busy and found me a daughter-in-law—only I never expected her to be a Parker!”

  Tate knew his mother was teasing. Still, the subject was uncomfortable. “Me and Jodie Parker?” He laughed shortly, incredulously—as expected. “You don’t have a thing to worry about there!”

  His mother chuckled, then said, “Jack called. He said to tell you if you have time, he’d like you to stop by his place soon. He’s got something he wants to talk over with you.”

  “Did he say what it w
as?”

  “You know Jack. He always plays his cards close to his vest.”

  Tate nodded. Jack had been the sheriff in Briggs County for so long that being secretive with information was second nature to him. A gentleman rancher now that he’d retired, his time was at last his own. No more calls in the middle of the night, no more being dragged away from hot meals and interesting conversations. At first his old friend had seemed blissfully happy, assembling a small herd of cattle and fixing up his new place. It was only on Tate’s last visit that he’d sensed a note of dissatisfaction.

  Emma continued to talk, something about the fund-raiser her women’s club was planning, but Tate listened with only half an ear. He hadn’t told anyone about the decision he was facing. Not even his mother—especially not his mother!—because she was one of his principal considerations. Maybe he could talk about it to Jack. Bring the subject up casually when he paid his visit. Then Jack could help him see his way through to the proper answer.

  Again, another image pushed past the others. Jodie Parker, as he’d last seen her. Her delicate features set in spirited confrontation, her eyes gleaming like jewels from beneath the thick fringe of restored copper-colored hair.

  All in defense of the cowboy she’d once loved.

  A man whose behavior was totally reprehensible.

  A man she hadn’t seen in years.

  Tate’s slight smile quietly faded. Why had he felt that momentary burst of kinship with her, that flash of shared intimacy, as if he understood the forces at work behind her puzzling stance? Or could his response be explained by something much more elemental, a masculine reaction to a strikingly beautiful woman?

  Up till now he’d never considered Jodie Parker in that light. To him she’d always been an irritatingly spoiled child. But she was no longer a child. She was a woman in every sense of the word—and undeniably beautiful.

  His thoughts returned to his denial of any possible association between him and Jodie Parker. At this moment he wasn’t so sure!

  Emma Connelly continued to talk, outlining her part in the upcoming fund-raiser. She never seemed to notice that her son sat across from her in stunned silence.

  THE PARKERS were united in their disapproval of Jodie’s support for Rio. They didn’t understand how she could overlook what he’d done to her and come to his defense.

  First, Rafe: “You remember why I threw him off the ranch, don’t you?” he demanded. “He was supposed to be your boyfriend, but not being satisfied with that, he tried to force himself on Shannon!”

  “I’m not making excuses for him,” Jodie said evenly. “I know what he did.”

  Then from Shannon: “Jodie, you don’t still love him, do you?”

  “No!”

  Next, Harriet: “I thought you were more intelligent than that, Jodie!”

  Mae: “Missy, I despair! That’s the only word I can think of to describe how I feel. It’s a good thing Rio was run out of Texas all those years ago! Otherwise you’d have taken up with him again. All he’d had to do was crook his little finger! Where’s your pride, girl?”

  Jodie had no answer, but neither did she back down. Not from any of them as one by one they stated their views.

  By Friday night the worst of the storm had passed. Everyone knew where everyone else stood. But since the matter was moot—Rio Walsh was a memory and not an actual presence—ill feelings were put aside so that they could entertain their neighbors at the barbecue.

  Once again Jodie found herself going through the events of her trip, this time answering more detailed questions from those who were either planning trips of their own or who’d already been to the same places she had but had missed something she’d seen or done.

  Much to Jodie’s teenage embarrassment, the Parkers had always actively worked their ranch, which meant they rarely left it. In contrast, most of their neighbors hired overseers.

  The Clearys were a good example. Jim Cleary and his daughter, Jennifer, had lived in Dallas and come to West Texas mostly on holidays and for long weeks in the summer in their own private plane, treating their ranch more like a vacation spot than a home. To them, cattle were an afterthought.

  It had been some years since Jodie had seen Jennifer Cleary. Once they’d been good friends, but the friendship had become strained after Jennifer divulged Jodie and Rio’s secret destination when they’d run off; the friendship had cooled even more when Jennifer enrolled at a university in New England and Jodie chose Rice University in Houston.

  Jim Cleary was the last guest to arrive at the barbecue. He was a large barrel-chested man in his midsixties, with a booming voice and bright blue eyes. He headed directly for Jodie the minute he saw her. “Jodie, girl! Look at you! You’re all grown-up now, just like my Jenny.” His eyes twinkled. “Must be something in the water out here that makes all the young ladies so pretty!”

  “Mr. Cleary!” she returned warmly. “How are you?”

  It had been several years since Jodie had seen him, too, and the lights strung across the center courtyard revealed that his only noticeable change was some additional weight.

  “I’m retired now,” Jim Cleary said. “Moved to the ranch for good—got fed up with all those trips back and forth. Now the only time I get in the plane is to go see Jennifer and Alan. They’ve set up house on the outskirts of Boston not far from the school where he teaches. They’re expecting a baby this November—did you know?”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Been married for almost two years now,” Jim Cleary said proudly. “Married right after she got her degree. She works at one of those public-broadcasting stations—as a production assistant, I believe it’s called.”

  Jodie’s smile stayed in place. She wasn’t envious of the life Jennifer was building for herself, but it made her uncomfortable when she compared it to her own. Jennifer had moved to another level of maturity, while she was still floundering. “I’ll have to get her telephone number so I can call her sometime.”

  “That’d be wonderful,” Jim Cleary beamed. “She’d like that. And if you want to ride along next time I fly East, just let me know.”

  The Cleary plane. The last time Jodie had flown in it was when Rafe, her father and Shannon had reclaimed her from Rio in New Mexico. Jodie shook her head. “No, I think I’d better stay put awhile. Aunt Mae wouldn’t like it if I left again so soon.”

  “Mostly I just visit for a few days. Think about it. I’m sure Jennifer would love to see you.”

  Jodie nodded and continued to smile, but was greatly relieved when Rafe and Morgan came to talk with Jim and she could slip away.

  The barbecue dragged on. Everyone talked and ate and talked some more. Homemade ice cream was served for dessert along with Axel’s special peach cobbler. After that pallets were spread on the grass for the younger children, most of whom, worn-out, fell asleep instantly.

  Finally, nearing midnight, the last guest departed. But before the family members went to their respective homes, they helped clear the tables and chairs, making quick work of what would have taken Marie and Axel hours the next morning. Sleepy little heads bobbed as the children were then carried home.

  Gib walked with Jodie to their house, his arm resting comfortably across her shoulders.

  Jodie, enjoying the moment, said the first thing that came to mind. “Jennifer Cleary’s going to have a baby, Dad.”

  “I know. I heard.”

  “We’re the same age.”

  “I know that, too.”

  She stopped on their front porch. From the soft glow of the lights that were still on in the courtyard—Axel was waiting for everyone to get home before he switched them off—she studied her father’s face. She’d never thought of him as being a particularly handsome man. Over the years his classic Parker features had settled into a kind of blandness. But if you looked closely you could see he’d once been very attractive. Attractive enough to capture her mother’s heart?

  Jodie couldn’t help but wonder about them. All s
he knew was that they’d met in an El Paso bar and married almost immediately, without Mae’s knowledge. Had that been his idea or hers? Had the passion between them been so strong that Gib was willing to face what he knew would be Mae’s certain displeasure? Or had it been the way Mae had told Jodie the one time they’d talked about it—that her mother had found entry into the Parker prosperity, and when offered a goodly enough sum to get out, she’d left without so much as a backward glance at Gib or her baby daughter?

  Jodie suddenly burned to question her father about it, to see what he would say—but couldn’t make herself do it. Instead, she inquired about another subject she’d been curious about over the past couple of days. “Why haven’t you told me I’m wrong about Rio, like everyone else? I’d’ve thought you of all people... You didn’t like him, I know that.”

  “I didn’t like the way he treated you, that’s for sure.”

  She tilted her head. “Daddy? Do you think he could have beaten that girl?”

  While her father pondered his answer, the lights went off. Only the bright moon was left to cast its shadows. “I don’t know,” Gib said at last. “Do you...for sure?”

  A quick defense of Rio tumbled from her lips, but the simplicity of her father’s question gave her pause.

  They parted again in the hallway, sharing a brief kiss, and Jodie quickly got ready for bed. She wasn’t sleepy, though. So instead of climbing straight into bed, she curled up by the window that looked out onto the backyard.

  How many times over the years had she sat there watching and waiting—resttessty—for something to happen? Gazing at the pasture that the night had turned into a moonscape but for the barbed-wire fence?

  She pulled the curtain aside to relive another memory, one that had to do with Rio and their secret meetings. Rio had carried an old silver Mexican coin as a good-luck piece. It was drilled through and set in a metal loop, which he then clipped to his key ring. When he wanted to see her—when he knew he could snatch some free time from his ranch duties—he’d hang the silver coin from a loosened nail on the exterior window frame. When Jodie saw it, she’d collect it and bring it to their meeting place.