A Texan on Her Doorstep

by Stella Bagwell

  “Oh, yes,” Chloe answered. “It’s been a working ranch for nearly seventy-five years. For the most part, we raise horses, and I train them for the racetrack.”

  He looked intrigued now, and Ileana wasn’t surprised. Her mother lived and worked in mostly a man’s world, at an exciting sport. Whereas Ileana worked at a job that was oftentimes depressing and complicated. Men were rarely drawn to her occupation.

  “Thoroughbreds or quarter horses?” he asked Chloe.

  “Both.”

  Mac looked over at Ileana and was struck at how lovely she looked with her face bathed in a golden glow from the fire and the tail of her simple ponytail lying against one shoulder. There was a quiet dreaminess about her expression that was both soothing and inviting at the same time, and he found himself wishing he was going to have dinner with her alone.

  “What about you, Ileana? Are you familiar with horses?”

  “Ileana is an excellent horsewoman,” Chloe spoke up before her daughter could answer his question. “But she rarely takes the time to ride.”

  “Keeping others well is important to me, Mother.”

  Chloe smiled, but Mac got the sense that there was sadness behind her expression. As though she didn’t quite approve of her daughter’s lifestyle.

  “Yes. And I’m very proud of you, darling. You know that.”

  The room went quiet after that, and it suddenly dawned on Mac that he’d been so caught up in conversation with Ileana and her mother that Frankie, the reason for this visit, had totally slipped his mind.

  “Ileana tells me you’re from Texas, Mac. What part?” Chloe asked.

  “South Texas, ma’am. About forty miles north of Corpus Christi. I’m a deputy for Sheriff Langley Nichols in Bee County.”

  She nodded slightly. “I have a brother-in-law and nephew who both served several terms as sheriff here in Lincoln County. We know all about the dedication you men put in your jobs. You’re to be commended.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  Ileana’s mother smiled. “Call me Chloe.”

  At that moment, an older man, tall, with a thick head of salt and pepper colored hair, appeared in an open doorway of the room. He politely inclined his head toward Mac, then turned his attention to the mistress of the house.

  “Supper’s ready, Chloe.”

  “Thank you, Cesar. We’ll be right there.”

  The two women rose to their feet, and Mac followed behind Ileana as they left the living room and entered an adjoining room to their right. The rectangular space was furnished with a long cedar table that seated ten. The top was made of board planks while the legs had been roughly hewed from small cedar post. The matching chairs were worn smooth from years of use. Above the table, a lamp fashioned like a kerosene lantern hung from a low ceiling and cast a dim glow over the dining area. Across the way, heavy drapes were pushed back from a double window. Beyond the blackened panes, Mac could make out the tall branches of a spruce tree whipping in the cold wind.

  In the past year, his brother had married a ranching heiress, a daughter of one of the Sandbur Ranch families. Since then, Mac had had the pleasure of visiting the huge ranch, and he could safely say that this house was nothing like the huge, elaborate homes there. This Bar M Ranch house was much smaller in scale and far more rustic in furnishings and appearance. As Mac helped both women into their chairs, he decided the Sanders family was only concerned with two things. Comfort and practicality.

  After Mac took a seat directly across from Ileana, the man called Cesar served them a salad that was full of ripe olives and bits of corn chips. The concoction was so tasty Mac forgot that he didn’t like salads.

  “Ileana tells me that you’ve come to Ruidoso to see Frankie Cantrell,” Chloe said, once all of them were eating.

  Mac hadn’t expected her to bring up the subject so bluntly, but he was quickly seeing that Chloe wasn’t bashful about speaking her mind.

  “That’s right. I—we—that is, my brother and I didn’t have any idea she was ill. If we’d known I would have put off the trip to a later date.”

  Chloe thoughtfully chewed a bite of food, then said, “So Frankie didn’t have any idea you were coming to New Mexico?”

  “No. Ripp and I didn’t want to write or call. This matter is something that needs to be dealt with in person. Face-to-face.”

  Silence settled over the table, and Mac could feel Ileana’s gaze settle on him. When he looked across the table at her, there was a shy smile on her face. The sweetness of it caught his attention far more than a wicked wink would have, and he wondered if the high altitude of these desert mountains was doing something to him. Right now they were probably more than seven thousand feet above sea level. Maybe he was getting altitude sickness. Something was definitely making him dizzy.

  “I’ve told Mother about your concerns—that you believe Frankie might be your mother. I hope you don’t mind me sharing the information.”

  “Of course I don’t mind,” he said. “It’s hardly something I’m trying to keep a secret. I can’t find answers without asking questions. And questions require explanations.”

  “Well,” Chloe began, “I’ll be honest, Mac. Your story floored me. I’ve known Frankie Cantrell for nearly thirty years. I’ve never heard her mention having other children. I mean, children from her past.”

  Mac told himself not to let this morsel of information get to him. A good lawman always gathered all the evidence he could find before he took action. Even when he might be the victim.

  “Maybe she wanted to forget she had other children,” he suggested.

  With a long sigh, Chloe put down her fork and faced him directly. Mac studied her closely, and as he did, he found himself comparing the woman to Ileana. The two didn’t match in looks or demeanor, so he assumed Ileana must have taken after her father.

  “I’m being honest with you now, Mac. The Frankie Cantrell I know just wouldn’t forget her children. It’s unfathomable. She’s been the most loving, caring mother I’ve known. She’s a good and decent woman. If she is your mother, something dire must have happened in her past to make her leave.”

  Everything inside Mac went still. This woman knew something. Probably more than she was saying. But he honestly didn’t want to hear it from her. For years now, all he’d gotten about his mother was secondhand words and phrases. He wanted to hear it directly from Frankie herself. Otherwise, it wouldn’t have the same meaning.

  “What makes you say that?” he asked quietly. “Do you know about my mother’s past? Where she came from?”

  Chloe shook her head. “Only that she came from somewhere in Texas. I’ve never asked. And she’s never told me more.”

  “So you don’t know what her name was before she married Lewis Cantrell?”

  “She told me it was Robertson, and I never thought it could be anything else.”

  Mac shook his head. “Well, that wouldn’t have been our mother’s married name or her maiden name, which was Anderson, but everything else seems to fit. My brother and I have just learned that Frankie Cantrell had been corresponding with a friend’s mother through the years. That’s a bit too much of a coincidence.”

  Concern marred Chloe’s face, but whether it was for her friend or for Mac, he had no idea. Most likely the former. Friendship was oftentimes thicker than kinship.

  “Have you questioned this woman?”

  “Unfortunately she passed away a couple months ago. Our friend, her son, was trying to organize her things and ran across the letters. That’s how we happened to find out about them.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry your friend’s mother is no longer with us,” Chloe said.

  “Mac, this might be too personal,” Ileana spoke up, “but have you read the letters? Did they give you any clues?”

  His mouth twisted. Now that the sweet doctor had put the question to him, the fact that he and Ripp had refused to inspect the letters sounded inane. They should have scoured every line, every word. Instead, they’d both b
een reluctant to discover what, if anything, Frankie might have said.

  Looking down at his salad, he said, “No. I couldn’t bring myself to look at them. Neither could my brother. We wanted to see what Frankie had to say first, before we let things that had been written in the past sway our feelings. But we do know that both of us are mentioned in the letters.”

  “I can certainly understand you being reluctant to read them,” Ileana said softly. “You have no idea what you might find. Things that could be heartbreaking.”

  “Well, frankly, I’m not as understanding as my daughter,” Chloe said firmly. “Reading the letters might have answered everything for you.”

  He looked directly at the older woman. “You think so? Reading a letter would be the same as talking in person to your mother? I don’t think so.”

  “I can’t speak to my mother, Mac. She died when I was twenty-three and so did my father.”

  If Chloe expected him to apologize she was going to be disappointed. She was the one who was guilty of speaking out of turn. Especially when she didn’t know what sort of life he’d had or anything about his family. She couldn’t guess the devastation that Frankie’s leaving had caused the McCleod home. His father had never been the same, and as for Mac and Ripp, well, he supposed they’d never been the same either.

  “We’ve all lost family,” he said politely.

  Chloe suddenly smiled. “Sorry if I sounded harsh, Mac. I didn’t intend to. In fact, I think I’m beginning to like you. I’m just concerned about my friend. Surely you understand.”

  “I do. And for what it’s worth, I’m not here to cause Frankie Cantrell any sort of grief. Or to harm her in any way. My brother and I aren’t interested in any sort of monetary gain, whether that be from money, property or anything else. The only thing we’re interested in is knowing if our mother is alive—if this woman could be the same Frankie.”

  Chloe nodded in a way that said she understood but still found the whole matter worrisome. “And you can’t be a hundred percent certain of that until you finally speak with her, will you?”

  Mac looked across at Ileana. “That’s true. And Ileana has the final say over that.”

  Even in the dim light, he could see a faint pink color stain her cheekbones. The blush brightened her otherwise pale face.

  “Frankie needs to improve greatly before I allow such a meeting.” She looked directly at Mac. “Why don’t you show Mother your photo, Mac? She might be able to recognize if the woman is Frankie Cantrell.”

  He glanced hesitantly toward Chloe. “I’m not sure your mother wants to see the photo.”

  Chloe put down her fork and held out her hand in an inviting way. “Of course I want to see it. Whatever you might be thinking, Mac, I can’t hide from the truth. No more than you can.”

  Mac forgot about the food in front of him as he fished the photograph from his wallet and handed it over to Chloe. The woman studied it for long agonizing moments before she finally lifted her head.

  “When I first met Frankie she had naturally black hair. Was that the color of your mother’s hair?” she asked him.

  Mac tilted his head to one side as he allowed himself to remember. “I guess you’d call it that. It looked black until she got out in the sun, and then it had a fiery sort of glow to it. I thought she was the prettiest woman who ever walked the earth.”

  Chloe’s smile was gentle. “I expect we all think that of our mothers.” She handed the ragged photo back to Mac. “I can’t be for certain, but the woman in the photo looks very much like Frankie Cantrell.”

  Mac and Ripp had already pretty much come to the logical deduction that the two women had to be the same person. Still, it was a jolt to hear this woman actually say it. Even so, he did his best to remain casual as he stuffed the photo back in his wallet.

  “Well, I guess that answers one question,” he said quietly.

  “But there are so many more questions to come,” Chloe stated wisely. “And I have to admit, Mac, that I’m just as anxious as you are to hear them.”

  Mac agreed, while wondering if he and his brother would be better off if he simply packed his things and headed back to Texas. In all likelihood he’d found Frankie McCleod. She was in ill health but alive. She owned a ranch and had other children. What good would it do now to appear in her life, in her children’s lives?

  I promise, boys, I’ll be back for you. No matter what, Mommy loves you, and I’ll come back.

  That hastily spoken promise had haunted Mac and Ripp for nearly three decades. If anything, they deserved to know why she’d not kept it.

  After a few awkward moments of silence passed, Chloe turned the conversation to other things, and before Mac knew it, he was relating some of the more colorful incidents he’d experienced since becoming a lawman. In turn, Chloe and Ileana recounted stories about their relatives who had spent years in the capacity of sheriff.

  Eventually, when the meal was over, Cesar served them coffee and dessert in the living room, but after a few short minutes, Chloe excused herself saying she needed to make a few important phone calls.

  The woman’s exit left Mac and Ileana alone, with nothing but the sound of the crackling fire and the cold north wind whistling through the spruce trees outside the window.

  Mac ate the last bite of cake from his dish and placed it and his empty cup on a nearby coffee table. Then he walked over to the fireplace.

  With his back to the flames, he looked pointedly at Ileana. “Your mother knows more about Frankie than she’s saying.”

  Ileana rubbed her palms nervously down her thighs, then rose to her feet and walked over to stand in front of him. She’d only met him yesterday, yet she felt connected to him in an odd sort of way. Maybe it was because he’d shared such personal troubles with her. Or maybe it was because he’d seemed to look at her. Really look at her.

  “I probably shouldn’t be saying anything. But Mother told me that when she first met Frankie, she was running from an abusive husband. Is that in character with your father?”

  The expression on his rugged face didn’t change, but she could see surprise flicker in his eyes and then a shutter lowered and blocked any inkling of his feelings.

  “No. Once our mother left, Dad refused to speak of her. But while we were still a family, I never saw him lift a hand to her in any way. Neither did Ripp, or he would have told me.”

  “There are other ways of abusing a person,” she dared to say.

  His eyes suddenly softened, and as they settled on her face Ileana felt her insides turning as mushy as a hot chocolate bar.

  “That’s true,” he murmured. “And it’s true that two young boys wouldn’t know what went on with their parents behind closed doors. But my father was a good man. He loved us and raised us without any help from friends or relatives. And the people in the county liked and respected him. In fact, he was never voted out of office. His failing health finally forced him to retire after fifteen years of service to his community. Does that sound like an abusive man?”

  Making people feel better was the very thing that Ileana had dedicated her life to. And more often than not, she couldn’t stop her emotions from getting involved. But there was something about Mac that made her feel more deeply, made her ache to give his heart ease. What did that mean?

  She sighed. “No. And I only told you what Mother said because I know that you need answers. If you can hang on a few more days, Frankie will be well enough to give them to you.”

  The wry smile on his lips deepened to a seductive grin, and Ileana’s breath lodged somewhere in the middle of her chest.

  “Hang on?” he repeated softly. “With you for company I won’t have any problem at all hanging on in New Mexico for a while.”

  The suggestive implication of his words shocked her, but she tried her best to keep a cool mask on her face. The last thing she wanted to do was let him know just how inexperienced she was with men like him—any man in general. And she especially didn’t want him knowing
that her knees were threatening to buckle beneath his charm.

  “Mac, I—”

  Before she could form any sort of sensible response, he shocked her further by stepping forward, until the small space separating their bodies had disappeared and she could smell his scent, feel the heat radiating from his body.

  “From the first moment we met, I’ve been wondering something about you,” he drawled in a low, sultry voice.

  She tried not to shiver as his gaze made lazy trails over her face. “What is that?” she asked, unaware that her own voice had dropped to a husky whisper.

  “How you would look like this.”

  With one smooth movement, his hand moved to the back of her head and released the barrette holding her hair. Once he pulled the clasp away, the silky tresses spilled onto her shoulders and tumbled against her cheeks.

  She tried to make herself step away, to admonish him for being so forward and impertinent, but all she managed to do was stand paralyzed and breathless as his long fingers pushed into her hair, combed the loose curls against her collarbone.

  “You—you’ve lost your mind.”

  Her strangled words were said with more awe than accusation, making the grin on his face a slash of satisfaction.

  “Not yet. But I will if I don’t do this.”

  Before she could ask what this was, his face dipped to hers, and then she could see nothing but a glimpse of hard jaw, flared nostrils and a perfectly chiseled mouth descending toward hers.

  The shock that he was going to kiss her short-circuited her senses. Even if she’d wanted to run, she was helpless, caught in his spell like a horse against a tight rein.

  Softly, his lips settled over hers and then running was all but forgotten as the wild, forbidden taste of him swirled her to a place she’d never been.

  Chapter Four

  M ac was totally lost in the taste of Ileana’s kiss, the feel of her soft body next to his, when the faint sound of a throat being cleared suddenly jarred his senses.