Home to Texas

by Kaki Warner

  She moved to the doorway. “What?” she asked when he ended the call.

  He looked up, a worried expression on his face. “My mother had a heart attack.”

  KD pressed a hand to her throat. “Will she be okay?”

  “It was mild. Minor damage.” As he spoke, he rose from the bed, pulled his duffle out of the closet, and carried it to the bureau. “She’s scheduled tomorrow afternoon for angioplasty and a stent,” he went on as he tossed clothes into the duffle. “She wants to see me before she goes into surgery.”

  “Is the procedure risky?”

  “Not usually. But she’s in her sixties and she’s put on weight.”

  She’s afraid, KD thought. She wants to reconcile in case something goes wrong. Mama had shown similar fears before she’d had her appendix removed.

  Richard zipped the duffle closed and looked around, as if checking to see what he might have forgotten. Then he pulled up a map on his phone.

  “You’re not leaving now, are you?” KD asked in alarm. “It’s almost ten.”

  “She goes in at one.” He slipped the phone into his pocket. “It’s a twelve-hour drive to Tucson. I can take a two-hour stop if I need to and still get there before the procedure.” He began loading his pockets with his wallet, his sunglasses, spare bills, and change.

  “Do you want me to go with you?” KD offered.

  “Not necessary. You’ve been through enough without stumbling into the middle of a family crisis.” He must have seen her growing panic. “Hey, stop worrying. I’ll only be gone four or five days at most.”

  “I’m not worried,” she lied. Not about him leaving. But what if he never came back?

  “Come here.” He held out his arms. As soon as she stepped close enough, he pulled her in for a long, tight hug.

  She drew him in—his warmth, his scent, the steady drum of his heart beneath her cheek. If he didn’t come back to her, it would break her.

  “This might be a good thing, babe,” he said against her hair, the vibration of his low voice rumbling through her ear. “Give me a chance to figure out what I want to do. I can’t freeload at the ranch forever.”

  She kept her head tucked and tried to keep her voice light. “We could always put you to work.”

  “You already have.”

  “We could do it again.”

  He chuckled. “I don’t doubt it.” Loosening his arms, he kissed her forehead, trailed his lips down her cheek, settled in for a longer kiss on her mouth. When he lifted his head, he was smiling. “Maybe while I’m trying to figure out what I want to do, you can figure out what you want to do. Other than the usual, of course. We’ll compare notes. Winner gets to sleep with the loser.” He bent to pick up his duffle. As he slung the strap over his shoulder, KD watched his smile soften into something tender, and sweet, and maybe a little sad. It brought an ache to her heart. “I’ll miss you, babe. Call if you need me.”

  Then he was gone.

  * * *

  * * *

  The days dragged on. Dalton and Raney did their best to keep the ranch running, and with the return of the married workers and help from Sarge and Shirley, who showed no interest in returning to Hood, they muddled through.

  Sheriff Ford moved out of the ICU and was scheduled to leave the hospital in a few days. Once Raney gave assurances that everything was under control at the ranch, Mama decided that when “poor Lewis” was released, she would stay with him at his house in Gunther to make sure he continued to improve. She’d even hired one of Maria’s nieces to help out and chaperone. Yeah, right.

  Richard only called once, letting her know the procedure had gone well and his mother was back home. He’d had several long talks with his parents, and things were better. He was beginning to understand that their anger over Kenny’s death was mostly directed at themselves, rather than at him. “We’d all failed him in one way or another,” he said in a regretful tone. “But ultimately, Kenny’s death was because of his choices, not ours. It doesn’t lessen the grief, but does help ease some of the guilt.”

  He asked about Ford and how things were going at the ranch and when the therapy program would start up again. She told him hopefully soon. Conan had several vets who were interested, and Dalton was replacing the tent where the shootings had occurred. “I’ve already convinced Sarge and Shirley to stay on to help run future sessions. I think they’re hot for each other,” she added with a smile. “I’ve never seen Sarge so mellow.”

  “Sounds like you’ve got it all under control.”

  “We’re trying.”

  They talked for a few more minutes. When she asked how long he was staying in Tucson, he said he’d be heading back in a few days. “Got people to see and plans to make.” He sounded hopeful and impatient at the same time. Ready to get on with his life. He ended with, “Gotta go. Miss you, babe. See you soon.”

  Short and sweet and somewhat impersonal. It felt like a knife in KD’s heart.

  * * *

  * * *

  Two days later, KD was walking back from Tent City when she saw a familiar blue pickup heading toward the house.

  She stopped, breath caught. Richard! An explosion of joy almost sent her racing toward him shrieking and laughing. She had to force herself to continue at a normal pace as he climbed out of the truck, then stood beside it, watching her. After a moment, he started toward her with long, purposeful strides.

  “You’re back,” she said when he drew near.

  Instead of answering, he took two more steps, then swept her up in his arms and held her against his chest. “God, I missed you,” he breathed in her ear.

  KD buried her face against his throat, arms tight around his neck, not wanting him to see the emotion she couldn’t hide. He felt so good. So solid. So perfect against her.

  After a moment, he loosened his hold just enough that she could slide back to the ground, but not enough to let her go completely.

  “You’ve lost weight,” he said, smiling down at her, his beautiful blue eyes alight with a familiar fire.

  “You were only gone four days,” she reminded him.

  “Too long.” Loosening his hold but keeping one arm around her shoulders so he could anchor her to his side, he steered her toward the house.

  Slipping an arm around his lean waist, she matched her stride to his. “So what are you going to do?” she asked.

  “About what?”

  “Before you left, you said you were going to figure out what you wanted to do. Did you?”

  “Mostly. A lot of it depends on you.”

  She stopped and looked up at him. “How so?”

  He hesitated, then said, “It’s complicated.”

  She almost hit him. After all her worry and doubt, she couldn’t let him get away with that. Letting go of his waist, she crossed her arms over her chest. “Then let me simplify it for you. Do you love me?”

  He blinked, taken aback. “Of course.”

  “Do you want to marry me?”

  “Absolutely. But—”

  “But what? You have exceptions? Reservations? Stipulations?”

  “Well—”

  She threw a hand up. “No! There is no room in this discussion for buts and wells. It’s a simple yes or no question. Do you want to marry me?”

  He gave an emphatic nod, his eyes dancing. “Yes. I want to marry you. I’m desperate to marry you. Darling.”

  “But . . . ?”

  He let out a deep breath. “But I don’t want to live at the ranch.”

  KD blinked in astonishment. That’s what this is about?

  Apparently misreading her stunned expression, he quickly said, “I love the ranch and your family. But I think we should go our own way. Not far. I wouldn’t take you away from the horse therapy program. But how about Gunther?” Before she could respond, he hurried on. “I stopped there o
n my way back. Had a long talk with the sheriff. And your mother, of course. A very encouraging woman,” he added with a weak smile.

  “If you mean manipulative, I agree. Go on.”

  “He—they—convinced me to run for sheriff. If I win, maybe we could get a place somewhere between town and the ranch so you could still have time with your family and run Tent City. What do you think?”

  KD had to laugh. Throwing her arms around him, she gave him a long, hard kiss, then laughed again. “I think it’s perfect!”

  EPILOGUE

  Whitcomb Four Star Ranch

  Rough Creek, Texas

  Two months later

  Needing a break from all the guests milling about the house, Coralee Whitcomb hurried down the hallway off the kitchen, ducked into the quiet dimness of the office and closed the door.

  Blessed silence.

  She stood for a moment, eyes closed, as the past whispered around her. The lingering scent of the cigars Charlie smoked at his desk, thinking she didn’t know. The rumble of men’s voices when he talked strategy with his business and political cronies. The lonely days after his death when she had come here, hoping to find solace in the room that had always been uniquely his.

  With a sigh, she opened her eyes. “We had some good times in here, didn’t we, Charlie?”

  Smiling faintly, she drifted through the memories, imprinting on her mind every scent and sound and detail of the room that had been the hub of the ranch she had helped nurture over the last three-and-a-half decades. The girls’ laughter as they’d played with their dolls and horses on the rug by his chair. The bookcases filled with awards, memorabilia, photographs, and well-worn law books. The gallery of animal heads she’d never grown accustomed to—she’d always hated those glass eyes staring down at her. But this had been Charlie’s domain, and even after his death, she hadn’t been able to alter a thing. Perhaps Raney would. This was her office now. She and Dalton would fill it with memories of their own.

  As she moved past his desk, Coralee paused to open the scrapbook of newspaper clippings that Raney had put together during the last month of her pregnancy.

  drug cartel invades gunther county, the first headline read, followed by a totally fictional account of three men attempting to run a heroin pipeline through Gunther County. It amazed Coralee that anyone would believe such a thing. No mention of Afghan terrorists targeting American soldiers. Or KD’s abduction. Or the DOD’s controversial policy that had set these events in motion in the first place. The powers that be had decided on this absurd explanation, so here it was.

  On the opposite page was another headline: gunther county sheriff injured in brutal attack. Coralee didn’t read that article. Simply thinking about those harrowing days she’d spent at Lewis’s bedside made her stomach knot. That he had made such a full and remarkable recovery was a miracle.

  She scanned other pages, pausing on a headline that read, governor honors local heroes. She smiled, remembering how nervous they’d been that day. “Sheriff Lewis Ford, along with sheriff-elect Richard M. Murdock, former special agent with the Army’s Criminal Investigation Division, and Dalton Cardwell, quarter horse trainer and facilities manager of the sprawling Whitcomb Four Star Ranch, were honored this week by the governor of Texas for their bravery and courage in defending the county against members of a violent drug cartel.” Thankfully, no mention of the FBI’s long investigation into the deaths of those “cartel” members, which ended with no charges being filed against the heroes owing to a lack of witnesses or evidence of criminality.

  She flipped through write-ups about Lewis’s retirement, the special election to fill his position, Richard’s landslide win. She especially liked the one describing Lewis’s retirement party and the crush of people who had come out to the ranch to wish him well. “The outpouring of support for retiring Sheriff Ford is a reflection of the high esteem and affection the citizens of Gunther County hold for the man who has served and protected them for over three decades.” He had been so happy and humbled by the huge turnout.

  But her favorite clippings filled the last two pages and were the most recent. The first was dated two weeks ago. No bold headline. No fanfare. Just the picture of a tiny baby and, below it, an announcement of the birth of Charles Whitcomb Cardwell to Raney and Dalton Cardwell of Rough Creek. After Len’s son, the second male born in Coralee’s family since her father’s birth over ninety years ago.

  “You always wanted a son, Charlie,” she murmured aloud. “Now you have four and two grandsons. How I wish you could have known them.”

  The last clipping was more elaborate, with a quarter-page photograph of KD and Richard, standing stiffly in formal attire, announcing their upcoming marriage at the ranch on the last Saturday in October. Today.

  Coralee was a little miffed that although Richard was featured prominently as the new county sheriff, there was barely mention of the Rough Creek Second Chance Rehabilitation and Horse Therapy Center that KD, Shirley, and Sarge were planning to build at the ranch. Perhaps once they completed construction, they could have the reporter out to see the results.

  All in all, it had been a rough year, but one that had ended well.

  Closing the scrapbook, she sighed and looked around again. These walls had seen so many changes. Mostly happy, joyful changes, with more on the way. A new baby, another marriage, Joss scheduled to headline her own tour, Len and Ryan growing closer as they watched their own babies circle the nest on fragile wings. And now dear KD, the youngest and strongest of them all, rising above the horrors she had suffered to find love and hope with a man strong enough to stand beside her. They were blessed in so many ways.

  “You would have been proud of our girls, Charlie,” she whispered to the silent room. “Such beautiful, strong, loving women. The best of both of us.”

  She walked slowly past the bookcases, trailing her fingertips over this frame or that trinket or any of the many special treasures collected over the years. “I know you’ve been watching over us, Charlie. I’ve felt your presence when I’ve needed you. God bless you for that. And for the beautiful babies you gave me.”

  She felt tears form but resolutely blinked them away. She didn’t want to dampen KD’s wedding day with tears. This wasn’t a sad goodbye. It was a new beginning. Another step in the journey of her life.

  And what a wonderful, fulfilling life it had been.

  Through blurred eyes, she smiled up at the portrait above the fireplace mantle that showed Charlie as she would always remember him—forever young, vital, a man in his prime. Sitting proudly beside him, a much younger version of herself, while gathered at their feet sat their four precious daughters all prettied up in their Sunday best.

  “We made a beautiful family, didn’t we, Charlie?” Her smile faltered on a wistful sigh. “But now our babies are all grown. Younger, stronger backs are needed to carry the legacy we’ve built.” She swiped a hand over her stinging eyes as her heart ached with a familiar sense of loss. “Dear Charlie, how I’ve missed you. You were the rock I leaned on. The presence that gave me the strength to go on after you were taken from us. I will always treasure the years we had together. But . . . as hard as it will be, dearest, it’s time for me to let you go.”

  “Who are you talking to?”

  Startled, she turned to see Lewis standing in the doorway, a worried frown on his handsome face. He looked so much better than he had two months ago. She had been so afraid she was losing him. But now he looked as sturdy and strong as ever.

  “Charlie,” she said, walking toward him.

  “Telling him about me?”

  “About us.”

  When she stopped before him, he rested his hands on her shoulders. “Think he approves?” He said it with a smile, but she saw the doubt in his gray eyes.

  “Absolutely. Charlie always liked you.” She slid her arms around his waist, still not believing she had been gr
anted the gift of a second chance to love and be loved. “He would have wanted me to have someone like you in my life.”

  With his thumb, he wiped away the last tear. “Then I hope he knows how grateful I am.” He leaned down and kissed her, then straightened when raised voices drifted down the hall from the veranda. “They’re about to toast the new bride and groom. Ready to make your announcement? You’ll have to make it quick,” he added in warning. “Or we’ll miss our flight. Without the cruiser, we won’t be able to run the lights and speed.”

  She laughed and patted his cheek. Dear, sweet man. So honest and dependable. Hopefully, by the time their honeymoon ended, she would have shown him that some rules were sweeter when broken.

  “I’ve changed my mind,” she told him. “I’ve written down everything I wanted to say and sealed it in an envelope, along with the deed to the west pasture so KD will have a place to build a permanent horse therapy camp. I also included several sizable donations I rounded up to help get them started.”

  “You don’t even want to tell them goodbye?”

  “I don’t want to intrude on KD’s and Richard’s day. I’ve left the letter with Raney and asked her to give it to KD when all the guests have left and it’s only the girls and their husbands. I’ve got it all figured out.”

  He chuckled. “I’m sure you do. But please tell me that you won’t supervise me as relentlessly as you do them. I’ve been a bachelor too long to be easily managed.”

  “Don’t be silly. You’re perfect as you are.” She gave him a scolding look. “And stop listening to the girls. If I hadn’t been such a relentless manager, they wouldn’t be where they are now.”

  “I’m not complaining, honey. Just warning you it’ll take a lot of effort to bring me to heel.”