Carbon Copy Cowboy (Texas Twins Book 3)

by Arlene James

  “I’m sorry about the second calf, but thank you for not doubting me this morning, about the heifer, I mean.”

  Jack blinked at her. “Never crossed my mind to doubt you.”

  Nodding, she told him, “Your confidence in me means a lot. Thank you.”

  He didn’t know what to say to that, so he said nothing at all. It truly had not occurred to him to doubt her. She obviously had a gift when it came to animals and a great deal of knowledge, even if she didn’t know how she’d come by it.

  “Tom said you did just right by putting the calf to nurse,” he told her.

  She smiled at that before giving the dog a last pat and going into the house.

  * * *

  The alarm went off at 4:15 a.m. Kendra jerked awake, one thought in her head.

  Fort Worth with Jack.

  She took a moment to ask God for a successful trip then jumped into the shower. Afterward, she threw on her customary jeans and a simply tailored, Western-style blouse of lime-green cotton printed with raspberry-pink flowers. Uncle James’s boots tempted her, but her athletic shoes were the more sensible choice. She put together a little bag of things to take with her: a tube of lip gloss, a comb, an elastic band, a package of breath mints and the few dollars that she possessed.

  Having no identification had proved surprisingly freeing. She didn’t have to worry about carrying around a driver’s license, credit card, insurance information or anything of that sort. Having no name also meant that she had no Social Security number, however, which meant that her income couldn’t be reported. She realized that if she worked for long, her employer could get in trouble, which made her wonder how she would survive until her memory returned.

  Kendra refused to think that her memory would not return, even though at times, she almost hoped that it would not. Whatever waited in her past could be less than spectacular, after all. The circumstances of her accident seemed to indicate that she had been running away from something—or someone—and remembering whoever or whatever that was could result in her leaving Jack and the ranch. Even if she did not return to her old life, however, that didn’t mean she could stay here. Whatever she’d blocked out could very well turn Jack and his family against her, but even if that were not the case, she would not subject them to more difficulty. They already had enough of that. So her memory must return, and she must go. But not today, thankfully.

  Today was for Jack and Fort Worth.

  Once again, they climbed into the truck with a full thermos of coffee and a well-programmed GPS system. Jack seemed in an upbeat mood, and Kendra made up her mind to enjoy every moment with him.

  “I’m glad we’re doing this,” she admitted softly.

  “Me, too,” he said. “I have the feeling that things could be different this time. I mean, something’s gotta go my way sometime, doesn’t it?”

  “Oh, Jack,” Kendra chided, “how can you say that? I understand that you’ve had some nasty shocks and you’re worried about your mom and Brian, but I hope you can see how blessed you are.”

  “That’s true,” Jack agreed. “One of the best things that ever happened to us was being taken on by James Crawford. We called him Uncle James, but he treated my mother like his daughter and Violet and me like grandchildren.”

  Kendra smiled softly. “It must have been wonderful to have had that kind of relationship with him.

  “The thing is, though,” Jack admitted, “my relationship with James just made me miss my father and real grandparents more. I couldn’t help wondering about them and wishing...” He shook his head. “We’ve had a good life on the ranch, but...” He took a deep breath and plunged on, “I have to ask myself why Grayson was the one Brian chose to keep and not me. I know that’s foolish and immature, but—”

  “We don’t know what happened. You don’t know that Brian chose Grayson and Maddie over you and Violet any more than you know that your mother chose you and Violet over Grayson and Maddie. I mean, can you see your mother doing such a thing?”

  “No,” Jack replied immediately. “No, I can’t.”

  “Then trust that she, they, did it for good reasons that you don’t yet understand.”

  He gripped the steering wheel tightly. “I know you’re right.... But I just hope that we find something today that shines some light on what those reasons were.”

  “I hope so, too,” Kendra agreed, but no matter how the day’s venture turned out, she knew that she would not regret spending the day with him. She couldn’t help feeling that time was running out, and she selfishly determined to relish every moment that she had with this man who had come to mean so much to her.

  * * *

  By mutual agreement, they made only one stop on their way to Fort Worth, to refuel and purchase a map of the city. Jack intended to go about this venture in as methodical a fashion as possible. He’d let his emotions get the better of him last time, and this time he meant to exhaust every possible avenue to uncover the truth about his family. Besides, he didn’t want to come away fearing that Grayson could have done a better job.

  At almost precisely ten o’clock that morning, they pulled into the dusty parking lot of a tired-looking, brick building in the modest, aging neighborhood where Jack’s family had once lived. The Anytime Coffee Shop advertised Breakfast Anytime in flashing neon letters mounted in the cloudy front window.

  “Don’t know about you,” Jack said, “but I could eat a whole hog right about now.”

  Kendra laughed. “Some bacon and eggs would be great.”

  “Let’s just hope the joint is cleaner inside than out,” Jack muttered, opening the truck door. Time had reduced the once-paved parking lot to patches of tarry gravel that crunched under his boot heels as he moved around the front of the truck to help Kendra down to the ground. Giving in to impulse, he laid a possessive hand against the small of her back and ushered her into the building.

  The tiny, L-shaped dining area offered only seven or eight small, chrome-legged tables. A counter down the center of the room provided several extra seats. A fellow in a mechanic’s uniform occupied one of the stools, hunching silently over a cup of coffee. A pair of Hispanic women with an apple-cheeked infant in a cumbersome carrier occupied the table in the corner, chattering softly over the remains of their meal. A gravelly voice called out from the kitchen.

  “Be right with you.”

  “Thanks,” Jack called back, following Kendra to a nearby table.

  He pulled out an old-fashioned chrome-and-vinyl chair, saw her seated, then walked around to take the seat opposite her. She passed him one of a pair of yellowed menus encased in heavy plastic. The offerings were few and straightforward: eggs and bacon, eggs and ham, eggs and steak, eggs and sausage. The place looked clean, if utilitarian, however, and that would do. Besides, he sat across from the most beautiful woman imaginable.

  What else could a fellow want with breakfast?

  * * *

  A beefy, balding man wearing a stained bib apron and an envelope cap over jeans and a black T-shirt dropped a plate in front of the mechanic at the counter before filling two small glasses with water. He carried both in one large hand as he clumped over to slide them onto the table between Jack and Kendra.

  “What’ll you have?” he asked unceremoniously, planting his hands at his thick waist. An older man with bags under his eyes and prominent red veins in the bulb of his nose, he seemed none too friendly.

  Jack decided to stick with the tried and true and ordered scrambled eggs accompanied by a slab of ham and toast. “I’ve had plenty of coffee, though,” he said, “so just orange juice.”

  Kendra chose orange juice and scrambled eggs, too, but asked for bacon. “Crisp, please.”

  Their host did not so much as reply before turning away and clopping back to the kitchen. Jack lifted his eyebrows at Kendra, who shrugged. Okay,
so the service couldn’t be called stellar, but maybe the food would make up for that. While they sipped their water and waited for their meal, Jack got out his city map, unfolding and refolding it to showcase the immediate area and fit it onto the tiny Formica tabletop.

  “The house is about here,” he said, tapping a spot on the map. “I thought we’d start with the houses that we missed last time, but we’ll avoid Patty Earl since I’ve already spoken to her.”

  “Is she the one who told you that Brian might not be your dad?” Kendra asked.

  Jack nodded. “She claims that her late husband, Joe, fathered Grayson and me but that Mom wouldn’t marry Joe because Brian was the better catch.”

  “That doesn’t sound like the woman you and Violet describe,” Kendra commented.

  “No, it doesn’t,” Jack agreed, “but then I wouldn’t have believed that she had two other children, either.”

  Kendra laid her hand over his and squeezed. “There has to be a good reason why she didn’t tell you.”

  “And maybe we’ll discover it today,” Jack said hopefully.

  Kendra smiled. “Whatever happens,” she promised. “I’m here for you.”

  “For now,” he qualified softly.

  Oh, how she wanted to argue with that. If only she could promise forever. If only... But it wouldn’t do any good to pretend. Besides, she desperately wanted to make Jack see that living in the truth was the best anyone could do.

  Chapter Twelve

  The mechanic threw a few bills on the counter and rose to leave, calling out, “See you later, Harv.”

  “Yeah. Later,” came the rumbling reply.

  The guy was barely out the door before “Harv” appeared to pocket the bills. With a disinterested glance at Jack and Kendra, he returned to the kitchen.

  “I wonder how long he’s been in business here,” Jack mused.

  She met his eyes.

  “You think he’s the owner?”

  “Wouldn’t surprise me.”

  “Harv” carried two plates out of the kitchen and over to the table. Jack folded up the map and pushed it aside so the plates could be put down. Pulling two plastic bottles of juice from his apron pockets, he placed those on the table, as well, then started to turn away.

  “This place been here long?” Jack asked conversationally.

  The man dropped a cool, pale gray gaze on Jack, answering tersely, “’Bout forty years.”

  Jack opened his mouth to ask if he was the owner, but the man turned his back and walked away before Jack could get the words out.

  “O-kay,” Jack drawled.

  Kendra inclined her head sympathetically, saying, “Food looks good.”

  It did, actually. The eggs were fluffy and light, the ham juicy, the bacon crisp, the toast lightly browned. While they ate, their unfriendly host banged around the kitchen then came out to perch on the end stool at the counter and peruse a newspaper while nursing a cup of coffee.

  Jack wolfed down his meal, pushed aside his plate and went back to the map, thinking aloud. “There’s an old market here,” he pointed out. “We can ask there if we strike out with the neighbors. Also, I noticed a gas station and mechanic’s shop that looks like it’s been around a while, we could try that.”

  “I saw a dry cleaner’s and a pharmacy that look well established, too,” Kendra said. “Might find someone who knew Belle and Brian Wallace there.”

  Jack caught movement from the corner of his eye and turned his head in that direction. Harv had swiveled around on the stool to stare at them, but as soon as Jack looked in his direction, the man got up and headed back to the kitchen. Had he overheard their conversation, and, if so, did that have anything to do with his hasty retreat?

  “Last but not least,” Jack added, frowning speculatively, “there’s a church a couple blocks over. Maybe someone there knew us.”

  “Good plan,” Kendra said.

  He abandoned his useless suspicions to smile at her. “Might as well get to it.”

  They walked over to the cash register to pay out, but their host did not materialize as expected, so Jack dinged the flat bell sitting next to the old-fashioned machine.

  Harv came out, scowling and wiping his hands on a towel. “Doing everything myself,” he grumbled, taking Jack’s money.

  He plucked the change from the drawer and dumped it on the counter before striding back into the kitchen. Jack left enough for a tip, took the rest and ushered Kendra to the door, something telling him that Harv couldn’t wait to be shed of them. Jack told himself that he was being paranoid, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that the taciturn man knew something about his family.

  It seemed an inauspicious start to the day, and unfortunately, things did not get better. Ten of a dozen residents opened their doors to Jack and Kendra, but not one of them admitted to remembering a family named Wallace who had once lived on the street. Most were renters who had lived in the area only months.

  Downcast, they began canvassing the local businesses. A Mexican chain had recently taken over the local grocery, installing new management and employees, so no one there could help. The owners of the dry-cleaning store, though very friendly, were also fairly new on the scene. Jack and Kendra waited nearly forty minutes to speak to the pharmacist, who remembered a young family from long ago with two sets of twins but couldn’t recall their names or any other details. The owner and operator of the combination gasoline station and mechanic’s shop turned out to be the son of the recently deceased original proprietor, but all he could tell them was that business was bad and getting worse. Neither the very young pastor nor the middle-aged secretary at the quaint little church could tell them anything.

  “Perhaps if you came back on Sunday and spoke to some of our long-term members...” the pastor suggested.

  Jack and Kendra gave their regrets and went on their way. As soon as they were back in the truck, Kendra proposed that he give Patty Earl another try.

  Jack grit his teeth over the prospect. He didn’t know why, but he hated to talk to Mrs. Earl. Something about the embittered widow saddened him, or maybe what she’d said about Belle and Brian saddened him. He found the whole thing distasteful and worrisome.

  “Maybe we should pray about it,” Kendra suggested softly, and Jack’s spirit rose instantly.

  “I’d like that,” he said, reaching for her hand. Threading their fingers together over the center console, they bowed their heads. “Lord, I—I felt strongly that I ought to come here and do this thing,” he began. “I don’t know why we haven’t found any answers. Maybe it was all just wishful thinking on my part. Now, I just don’t know what to do. Can Mrs. Earl help me?” Jack instantly understood that he wouldn’t know the answer to that question until he spoke to Patty Earl. “Guess I’ll give it a shot and leave what happens to You,” Jack said. “Thanks for listening. Amen.” He immediately put the key into the truck’s ignition switch.

  “You’re going over there, aren’t you?” Kendra said.

  Jack nodded. “Yep.”

  Three minutes later, they stood side by side on the porch in front of Mrs. Earl’s pristine little house. She opened the door within seconds after Jack knocked.

  “You!” she exclaimed before turning her frown on Kendra. “What do you want now?” Before he could answer, she barked, “I don’t know that one, and I don’t want to.”

  “I just want to ask you some more questions about—” Jack began.

  “Ain’t answering no more questions,” she snapped, closing the door in his face.

  Jack blinked and shifted his weight before looking at Kendra, who said only, “Well.”

  Shaking his head, Jack turned away, muttering, “I haven’t trusted her from the first.”

  “I don’t blame you,” Kendra muttered.

  Shaking his
head, Jack thought that they’d run out of options, but then a sudden notion took hold of him. “Come on,” he said. “We’re going back to that coffee shop.”

  Kendra didn’t ask why he wanted to do such a thing, which was good because he couldn’t have told her why. He only knew that should be his next—and final—stop of the day. Jack wheeled the truck through the small neighborhood and out onto the main thoroughfare to the Anytime Coffee Shop. The dusty parking lot sat empty, so he parked right in front of the building.

  As if sensing his urgency, Kendra bailed out the instant that he killed the engine and waited to fall in behind him as he strode for the door. Harv got up off the stool as soon as the bell over the door jangled. His pale eyes widened.

  “We’re closing,” he announced gruffly, heading for the kitchen.

  “Thought you were open twenty-four hours a day,” Jack said, striding over to lean a forearm against the countertop. “Isn’t that what ‘Breakfast Anytime’ means?”

  Harv cleared his throat. “The night shift called in sick....”

  “But it’s only four o’clock in the afternoon,” Jack pointed out. “Are you telling me that you’ve been here since four in the morning?”

  “I’m not telling you anything,” Harv snarled, moving forward again. “Now, get out.”

  Jack stood his ground. “You own this place, don’t you?” Jack asked.

  “What of it?”

  “And you’ve been here for the better part of the forty years it’s been open, haven’t you?” he added.

  “I got nothing to say!”

  “About what?” Jack prodded. “About Isabella and Brian Wallace?” He stepped closer in the hope of softening the old man. “Isabella’s my mother.”

  “Out!” Harv roared, jabbing a thick finger at the door. “Get out before I call the cops and have you thrown out!”

  “Come on, Jack,” Kendra urged, hooking her hand in the crook of his elbow. Jack let her pull him toward the door without once taking his eyes off the other man. Why did just the mention of Isabella and Brian Wallace have this fellow so riled up?