A Little Town in Texas

by Bethany Campbell

  She was going to have to do her own detective work and find the details herself—starting now. She would call Nora in Crystal Creek.

  Nora was her aunt, but the word aunt always sounded august and elderly to Kitt. Nora was neither. Nora was thirty-three, just five years older than Kitt. She was bright, funny, down-to-earth, and generous.

  Nora had made only one mistake in her life, and it had been disastrous. As a sixteen-year-old girl, she’d got pregnant and married a man who’d thrown all her dreams offtrack.

  Nora had grown up wanting one thing: to be a teacher. After her divorce, she’d sweated blood to finish college. She’d married again, a good man. She’d even taught for a while, but circumstances had seemed to conspire against her.

  Now, instead of teaching, Nora had a dead-end job. She worked fifty weeks a year, six days a week in a cow town café and managed a tatty little motel, too. Kitt shook her head at the waste.

  She dialed Nora’s home number. She listened to the phone ring and thought of Crystal Creek. It still seemed ironic to be going back, but perhaps, at last, it was time. A feeble ghost or two might still haunt her, but this would be her chance to lay them to rest.

  When Nora answered, she hooted with surprise to hear Kitt. “Kitt-Kat!” she cried. “Can you read minds? I was just thinking of you. I loved that piece you wrote about the little girl who plays chess.”

  Kitt thanked her, feeling the pinch of guilt. Nora followed Kitt’s career proudly and read every issue of Exclusive. She sent notes of praise and funny cards and newsy letters, but Kitt was usually too busy to answer at length. Now and then she dashed off a postcard or an e-mail. It was not that she didn’t love Nora, but…

  She paused, picturing Nora’s pretty face and blue-gray eyes. How often in the past had she turned to her, a girl barely older than herself, for comfort? Now she was turning to her again—but for reasons of ambition.

  Kitt took a deep breath. “Listen, Nora, I’m coming down there next week. On Monday. I hope it’s not too short a notice.”

  “Here?” Nora sounded delighted. “That’s great! I can’t wait to see you. Good grief, how long has it been?”

  “Twelve years,” Kitt said. Another guilty twinge stung her, and she tried not to think of her long absence.

  “Twelve years,” Nora said in wonder. “It’s not possible. It can’t be.”

  “The prodigal returns,” Kitt said, trying to make a joke of it.

  “It’s about time,” laughed Nora. “I was starting to think you got too citified. You wouldn’t claim us any more.”

  “I’ve got an assignment,” said Kitt, trying to sound casual. “To write about Crystal Creek. The current troubles. You know, that whole land grab thing with Brian Fabian.”

  For a moment, Nora went strangely silent. At last she said, “Write about it? I don’t know. Folks around here might not like it….”

  Kitt made her voice conciliatory. “We’ll talk about it when I get there, okay? The main thing is I get a chance to see you. It’s been so long…I mean, I can still come, can’t I? Even if I’m on assignment?”

  This time Nora didn’t hesitate. “You’re always welcome,” she said with warmth. “And I want you to stay with us. At Chez Slattery. I insist.”

  It was Kitt’s turn to pause. For the first time since that afternoon she had a strong rush of apprehension about the McKinneys.

  Nora was married to the McKinneys’ foreman. She lived within sight of the main house. For Kitt, it was uncomfortably close, too close.

  “That’s good of you, but I shouldn’t. I mean, if the people in town don’t like what I write, they could hold it against you.”

  “I know you’re always fair,” Nora said loyally. “That’s one of the best things about your articles. You put emotion into them, but they’re fair. Really, stay with us—please.”

  “No,” Kitt insisted. “It wouldn’t be in my best interest, either. If I stay with you, it’ll look as if I’ve taken sides before I’ve even started.”

  Kitt drew in her breath and held it. What she was saying was sound in journalistic principle. But she also could not bear spending a week or more living on the McKinneys’ land. Suddenly the ghosts of her past did not seem so few or so feeble.

  Nora sighed. “I can understand that. I’d certainly never want to compromise the integrity of your story. But you can spend time with us—can’t you? You can’t work all the time.”

  “You’ll be the first person I’ll come see,” promised Kitt. “I’ll drive straight to your house. Won’t even check into the hotel first. The old hotel—you said they remodeled it?”

  “You won’t recognize it. You know that you could stay for free at the motel, instead,” Nora said ruefully. “But it’d hardly be doing you a favor. We’re putting in a new heating and air-conditioning system. It’s a mess.”

  “No, it’s better I stay on neutral ground,” Kitt replied.

  Nora laughed. “Oh, Kitt—these days there is no neutral ground in Crystal Creek. But it’ll be a kick to have you home.”

  Home. The word almost froze Kitt. She tried to shake off the cold, empty feeling. New York was where she lived now, and she wanted and needed no other place to call home.

  She pushed the emotion away and got back to her job. “The McKinneys,” she said with seeming casualness, “they’re leading the fight against Fabian?”

  “J.T.’s the president of a citizens’ group. It’s running him ragged. I wish Cal could get home, but he’s tied up in business in Australia.”

  He’s not there yet. Good, Kitt thought with a wave of relief. But he would soon be back—Cronin had said he would.

  Kitt made herself press on. “Is there any word of Fabian making another move down there?” She knew, of course, that he was about to.

  “We hope not,” Nora said. “J.T.’s got about all he can handle. He’s got Fabian tied up in lawsuits for the moment. And all the major ranchers have refused to sell any more land. But anything might happen. J.T. doesn’t need any nasty surprises.”

  “I see,” Kitt said noncommittally. She couldn’t warn Nora that just such a nasty surprise was on the way, and it would come in the form of a man named Mel Belyle.

  IN CRYSTAL CREEK the next day, Nora realized that Kitt’s phone call had sent a strange restlessness tingling through her.

  The Longhorn Coffee Shop was languid, enjoying a rare Saturday morning lull. Nora savored the quiet and looked out the front window at the blue sky and sunshine and the strolling people.

  This was the first time in two long weeks that the sky had been bright and clear. Every day had brought clouds that sprinkled, rained, or poured down storms. Suddenly, she yearned with all her heart to join those people out in the beautiful sunlight and be free, like them.

  What would she do if she had a Saturday all to herself? A whole day to do anything she wanted? She leaned her elbows on the windowsill, giving herself up to this sinful fantasy. For starters, there were books to be read, tempting stacks of them, seductive heaps of them…

  The crash of shattering glass hurtled her back to reality. Nora straightened, squaring her shoulders. She was training a new waitress, LaVonda Pollack. “Vonnie?” she called apprehensively.

  The girl’s voice, nervous, came from the kitchen. “It was only an empty bottle. I’m cleaning it up. Sorry.”

  “It’s all right. Don’t worry.” Nora sighed and pushed a hand through her ash-brown hair. Then she busied herself readying for the lunch hour rush. She had tables to wipe, fresh place mats to put down, condiments to restock.

  Nora’s regular assistant, Kasey, was on vacation. Her other waitress, Shelby, had just gotten married, and Nora had been lucky to get a replacement—even if it was Vonnie.

  Finding good, steady help for the café was hard. The hours were long, the pay only adequate, and the waitresses had to count on tips to make a decent living. Nora missed Shelby, and she envied her. Shelby had gone back to college for her master’s degree.

  So
metimes in her heart of hearts, Nora still wished for life without the Longhorn. But the place was hers, and she was lucky to have it. Once the café had almost sold, but the deal had gone sour at the last moment, and Nora took that as a sign. It belonged to her and she belonged to it. There was no escaping and no use complaining.

  The door opened, its bell jingling, and her vague discontent fled. When she saw who entered, her heart flew up in happiness.

  Three tall men stood in the entryway. All wore Stetsons, western-cut shirts, jeans and expensive boots. Each was handsome, but in a different way. It was J. T. McKinney with both his sons, not only Tyler—but Cal.

  The sight of Cal dizzied her with happiness. He and his family had been gone for months. She threw herself into Cal’s arms, half-laughing, half-crying, hugging and being hugged. Cal laughed out loud, Tyler gave a tight smile, and J.T. sighed as if in resignation.

  “Cal,” she said in disbelief. “When did you get back?”

  “This mornin’,” he said and whirled her around. Then he stopped and beamed the smile that showed his killer dimples. “Lord, is it possible? You’re prettier than ever. Got a kiss for me, sweet thing?”

  Then he was bending, his lips firm and affectionate against her cheek. “Mmmwha!” he said, drawing back slightly.

  She drank him in. Next to her husband and son, she loved Cal McKinney more than anyone else in the world.

  He was as irresistible as ever, his hazel eyes just as full of high spirits. He had his hat brim tipped at a cocky angle, and though he was in his thirties now, he still had his boyish, sexy, carefree air.

  He grinned again. “That worthless husband of yours has gone off and left you alone today, the fool?”

  Nora hooked her arms around his neck. Her husband, Ken, was J.T.’s foreman and Cal’s best friend. “Ken’s in Medina. He should be back by tonight. Oh, Cal—it’s so good to have you home.”

  “Good to be home. Mighty good.”

  “And the rest of the family?” she asked. “They’re here?”

  “Serena and the twins? Couldn’t go nowhere without ’em, could I? They’re sleeping at Daddy’s. It was a long trip. I hope those twins sleep a week. Ever been on a plane thirty-six hours with twins? Close to hell as I ever want to get.”

  She laughed and led him to the nearest booth. “Let me get you some coffee. Or are you too wired?”

  “Never too wired for your coffee, darlin’. Or your cheesecake. I’ve been thinkin’ of your cheesecake for the last three thousand miles. It was all that kept my spirits up. You got pumpkin?”

  “I do. The first of the season. You want it with whipped cream?”

  Cal closed his eyes in mock ecstasy. “Yes. Say it again. It’s like you’re talkin’ dirty.”

  She gave him a playful swat. She turned to Cal’s father. “And what can I get you, J.T.?”

  “I wondered if you were ever going to notice me,” J.T. drawled.

  Nora laughed. “I always notice you. You’re not an easy man to ignore.”

  “Except when he’s around,” J.T. said with a rueful nod at Cal.

  Cal looked amused, but his brother, Tyler, didn’t smile.

  J.T. said, “Give me black coffee with no caffeine and a piece of gingerbread. But no whipped cream.”

  Cal patted his father’s chest over the heart. “Gotta take good care of that ticker, Daddy.”

  “I learned that the hard way,” J.T. said, pushing the sugar bowl farther away. Almost ten years ago he’d had a major heart attack.

  “And you,” Nora said to Tyler, “you’ll have black coffee, skim milk on the side and a plain donut.”

  Tyler nodded.

  “You still have that same thing?” Cal asked in disbelief.

  “Yep,” said Tyler.

  “You don’t ever change it?”

  “Nope,” said Tyler.

  “God,” Cal said, shaking his head. “You’re so predictable.”

  Tyler gave him a level look. “So in your way,” he said, “are you.”

  “Ah,” said J.T. “The sound of quibbling. How I’ve missed it. Family’s a wonderful thing. Isn’t it, Nora?”

  “The best,” she said. She looked at the three of them fondly.

  J. T. McKinney owned the biggest ranch in the county. He was in his early sixties now, but still straight and tall. His thick hair was silver, and although time had carved lines in his face, women said he was as handsome as ever—and some said he was even more so.

  Tyler, the black-haired elder son, resembled his father, with the same dark eyes and stubborn jaw. Nora knew that he was a good man, but his feelings often ran too deep and silently for his own good.

  And Cal—unlikely as it was, Cal was now a golden boy. Tyler had graduated from college with honors. Cal had been kicked out with multiple dishonors. Like a dutiful son, Tyler went back to the Double C to work with his father. Cal hit the rodeo circuit and spent the next ten years raising merry hell without wasting a thought on responsibility.

  Then Tyler had a brainchild. He studied hard and toiled even harder to turn almost a thousand acres of Double C land into a vineyard and establish a winery. He did everything by the book, with science and forethought.

  Cal fell into business only because he fell in love. He was surprised to find he had a knack for making deals. He’d turned Serena’s small boot-making business into a big one, then diversified. He invested, and his investments multiplied.

  Now Tyler was still struggling to make his winery one of the best in the state. His wife had left him once, and he’d almost let her get away. The last ten years had often been rocky for him. In contrast, Cal was rich, with a marriage smooth as silk. Who could have predicted such a thing?

  There were tensions among the three men. Nora could see it even now, when they should be happy in their reunion. Still, for all the undercurrents that ran among the men, they were bound together by ties of blood. If anyone was foolish enough to take on one McKinney man, he took on all three.

  They had their differences. They always would. But to Nora, these three men weren’t simply from Crystal Creek. They were Crystal Creek, its generous and complex heart and soul.

  CHAPTER TWO

  MEL BELYLE RACED like hell through the Dallas airport. He dodged, he wove, he sprinted. The crowd in the concourse formed a slow-moving human maze, but he negotiated it with a keen eye and his fanciest footwork.

  It didn’t matter. He still missed his flight to Austin.

  He turned around in disgust and bumped—hard—into the little redhead. She’d been on the same flight as he had from New York. How in blazes had she got there so fast? Did she have wings on her heels?

  He blinked in surprise. She didn’t. “Excuse you,” she said, her voice full of irony.

  Hmm, he thought. Attitude. Lots of it. “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t see you clear down there.”

  Blue sparks flashed in her eyes. She tossed a disdainful glance at his expensive shoes. “I hope you didn’t scuff your Guccis on my shin.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “I said I was sorry.”

  “Right,” she said, “Forget it.” She hustled past him and made her way to the ticket counter. “I missed my connection to Austin,” she said to the attendant. “When’s the next flight?”

  Austin? he thought. It’s a small world after all.

  Mel looked her up and down. Her long hair was red as flame and pulled back into a loose ponytail. Her face would have looked almost elfin, except the eyes were a-crackle with worldly intelligence.

  She wore jeans, running shoes and a travel vest, and she had the air of knowing exactly what she was doing. She was breathing hard, but he was breathing harder.

  He stepped up behind her. He was almost a foot taller than she was.

  He said, “You were on the flight from New York.”

  She didn’t bother to look at him. “Yes.”

  “You’re going to Austin, too?”

  “Yes,” she said in a tone that meant Stop talking to me.<
br />
  He wasn’t about to stop. She rather intrigued him. She was the sort of little thing who thought she was a big deal, and he was just the man to bring her down a notch or two.

  But he made his voice friendly, casual. “You must have got here right behind me. I thought everybody was eating my dust.”

  She cast him the briefest glance over her shoulder. “I got here before you. You ate my dust.”

  He laughed at her audacity. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken. I was on my college track team.”

  This time her glance was longer and more dismissive. “So was I. I was the captain.”

  Again she turned her back on him. He looked dubiously at her. She was breathing almost normally now, but his heartbeat still labored, his lungs still burned.

  She was built like a runner, he conceded, even if she was small. Her legs were long for her height, and she didn’t carry an ounce of fat. While he’d searched for openings in the crowd big enough to get through, she’d probably dashed through like a rabbit through the forest.

  How annoying. And she was apparently in better shape than he was. More annoying still. She probably ran ten miles a day, ate bean sprouts and drank only bottled water.

  The attendant said to the redhead, “I’m sorry. There won’t be another flight for at least two hours.”

  Mel heard the redhead mumble something under her breath. Then she said, “Is there a place around here to sit down and eat?”

  “Up the escalator,” said the attendant. “Then just keep going straight.”

  The redhead sighed and made her way toward the rest room, shouldering her carry-ons again. During her run, her hair had come partly undone. It hung down in tendrils along the nape of her neck and over her ears.

  That neck was pale and slightly moist with perspiration. Mel wondered if her whole body was as flawless and damp as that ivory neck. He watched her disappear into the ladies’ room, moving smoothly.

  Two hours is a long time, he thought. An enterprising man could make things happen.

  He made his arrangements for the next flight, then waited until he saw the redhead emerge from the rest room. Her hair was brushed neatly into place, and she’d added a touch of coral lipstick to that smart mouth of hers.