by Sharon Sala
Just for a moment Rachel panicked. Then she pressed her hand against his chest. His heartbeat was rapid but steady. She leaned down and whispered in his ear.
“I’m leaving now, Houston. But I swear to God, this time I’ll be back.”
Twenty
By the time Detective Sullivan’s message reached the proper authorities in Mirage, it was all over but the shouting. Houston was in Midland in the hospital, recovering from a gunshot wound. Rachel was afraid to sleep, for fear she would wake up back in darkness. Only after two days had passed with no sign of her blindness recurring did she start to relax. Esther had been notified that they were all still alive, and she’d promised to come out by Thanksgiving and check on them herself. Kenny proved his friendship even further by taking Rachel shopping to replace some of her clothes. By the time they were through, he’d come to the conclusion that Houston was a saint and that he might never get married.
And Beatty, well, Beatty took a while to show up. It would have pleased him to know that he’d become the first killer on record to be found and identified in two places at once.
But all wasn’t right with their world, and wouldn’t be until Houston came clean about his lie. Only this time he wasn’t taking any chances. Like a typical man, he was going to marry her first, then confess all his sins.
Houston’s arm was still in a sling. His suit was new and black and western-cut. His new boots were shining. A gray-belly Stetson lay upside down on a nearby chair, and he smiled to himself as Rachel fiddled with the string tie he was determined to wear.
Her dress was stunning. The white silk clung to her body just enough to make a man break a sweat. Her arms were bare, as were her shoulders, save for two thin strips of silk. The bodice was fitted, the skirt short and fitted, with a slit at the side that stopped just short of indecent. She was beautiful—and so was her dress. He couldn’t wait to get it off her.
“Are you sure you want to do this today?” Rachel said. “You haven’t even been discharged from the hospital.”
Houston frowned. “The paperwork is in progress.”
“But we don’t have a place to live yet. Shouldn’t we—”
“We’ve got your motel room,” he muttered, wincing as she pulled the tie just a little too tight. “Are you trying to back out on me, girl?”
Rachel rolled her eyes. She knew he was nervous. But there was a peace within her that money couldn’t buy. No matter what happened, as long as they had each other, they would survive.
“Hush,” she muttered. “You’re being silly and you know it.”
Houston sighed and gave up the fight. He was nervous, yes, but not for the reason she thought. He still had to confess to some pretty big lies.
“You look beautiful, Rachel Ann.”
Rachel paused, staring up at him in disbelief. Only her mother had ever used her full name.
“You never called me that before.”
“Then I suppose it’s about time,” he said softly, and brushed his mouth across her lips.
She moaned beneath her breath. If nothing else, the tenderness of this man would be her undoing. He must have sensed how torn she was today between joy and regret. Today was the happiest day of her life, and her mother should have been here to share it with her.
Moments later Kenny came breezing into Houston’s hospital room carrying a handful of papers. A nurse was right behind him, pushing a wheelchair.
“You’re sprung,” Kenny crowed, waving the papers in the air. “Plant your butt, bub. We’re going for a ride.”
Houston sat himself down, more than ready to move on with his life.
A short while later they walked hand in hand out of the courthouse, while Kenny and a cute little clerk he’d known for exactly ten minutes threw impromptu rice at their heads. Neither Houston or Rachel was upset by the fact that it was actually Cheerios. Kenny thought about explaining that the Honk and Holler across the street had been out of rice and then figured they didn’t give a damn. He and the clerk had torn into the box, pelting them with cereal instead.
Toasted O’s crunched beneath Rachel’s feet as she hurried to open the door to the truck. Houston slid inside, slamming the door behind him just in time to block another barrage of cereal. Rachel squealed and ran around to the driver’s side, laughing madly as she dodged more cereal and slid into the seat. She turned to Houston, and the look in his eyes wiped the smile off her face. He hit the automatic door lock just as Kenny threw a huge handful onto the windshield. Then he leaned across the seat and pulled Rachel into his arms.
“Rachel Bookout?”
Rachel sighed. There had been a time when she’d believed she would never bear that name.
“Yes?” she whispered.
“Do you love me?”
She smiled and brushed a kiss across his mouth. “More than life.”
Houston grinned. “You gotta promise to remember that.”
She recognized that tone of voice. “Houston, what have you done?”
“Nothing bad,” he said swiftly.
“Then that’s that,” Rachel said, and gave him a wink. “Okay, bub, which motel will it be?”
Houston grinned. “Just head back toward Mirage. You’ll find out soon enough.”
Rachel groaned. “Lord, Houston. I love you dearly, but couldn’t we spend just one night in a place without mice before we move into the trailer park?”
Houston laughed. It was a well-known fact that the rental property at the Mirage trailer park was seedy, and that was the good part.
“Do you trust me, Rachel?”
She looked at him seriously. “With my life.”
Joy swelled inside his chest. It was going to be all right.
“Then take us home, Rachel Ann.”
Confused but willing, she waved at Kenny, who was leaning against his car, eating what was left of the Cheerios out of the box.
He grinned and waved back, giving her a big thumbs-up. She gave Houston a considering glance.
“Does he know something I don’t?” she asked.
Houston grinned. “Pretty much.”
“Am I going to be pissed?” she muttered.
“Not much, I hope, and surely not for long.”
“God help me.”
“What did you say?” Houston asked.
“Nothing. I was just saying a prayer.”
Houston laughed.
And so the journey began.
In spite of her nervous anticipation, Rachel drove with extra care. Houston seemed pale beneath his smile, and there was a weariness around his eyes that she didn’t like. Instinct told her that he was trying to do too much, but she knew Houston well enough to realize he was going to do it his way or not at all.
When they were within a few miles of Mirage, Rachel’s gaze was automatically drawn to the new field of pump jacks that had sprung up while she was gone.
“That’s a pretty big field,” she said. “Do they all belong to your boss, too?”
“Yep,” Houston said.
Rachel’s eyes widened in appreciation. “You were sure lucky to get that job. He must be rolling in money.”
He grinned. “I’m one lucky son of a bitch, and that’s a fact.”
Rachel eyed him nervously. “Don’t you need to take a pain pill or something?”
His grin widened. “Cherokee, I’m on a high you wouldn’t believe.”
She shrugged.
A short while later Houston started to point. “Turn here,” he said.
Rachel tapped on the brakes, then took the turn with ease, thankful that Houston’s new pickup had survived the storm. At least she was able to bring him back to Mirage in comfort.
“Don’t you think it’s about time you tell me where we’re going?”
He pointed. Rachel’s gaze shifted momentarily from the road to the house up ahead.
“Wow,” she said softly. Then she saw a sign on the gatepost, and the tone of her voice rose a notch. “Cherokee Oil?”
Ner
vousness set in, shifting Houston’s grin from wide to still hanging in there.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“To see the boss.”
Suddenly everything became clear. Houston probably needed money. He was going to ask for an advance on his pay. Rachel couldn’t bear to think about him worrying about that at a time like this.
“Houston, if you need money, I told you I probably have enough to—”
“Don’t, Rachel.”
She frowned. “But we’re in this together, remember? If you can’t—”
He sighed. “For God’s sake, Rachel, stop now before you shame me completely.”
She bit her lip but did as he asked and parked. The longer she sat there, though, the more convinced she became that something was wrong. She leaned over the steering wheel, staring toward the house.
“Houston, I don’t think anybody’s home.”
He opened the door. “They will be,” he said. “Come on.”
She got out and met him in front of the truck. When Houston took her hand, she thought she felt it tremble, but when she looked at him and he winked, she decided she’d been imagining things.
They got to the door and Rachel started to ring the bell.
“Wait,” Houston said, and dug a key from his pocket. To Rachel’s horror, he stuck it in the lock and then opened the door.
“What are you doing?” Rachel gasped. “We can’t just go in as if we owned the place.”
Houston tossed the key on a nearby table and then gave the room a perfunctory glance before he turned to face her.
“Yes, we can, because I do,” he said.
Rachel gawked. “Do what?”
“Own the place.”
Her legs went weak as she stared around at the luxury in disbelief.
“You don’t. You can’t.”
He tried a grin. “I do. I can.”
“But—”
He reached for her. She didn’t move. He sighed. “Rachel, you weren’t the only one whose fortunes changed.”
Her eyes kept growing wider.
“Cherokee Oil is mine. I own the company, lock, stock, and barrel.”
She dropped into the nearest chair, staring up at him in shock.
“But the old house... Why did we... ?”
He shrugged. “Part of me was afraid to tell you about this.”
Suddenly she understood, and felt ashamed that she’d given him cause to doubt her.
“You don’t have to say any more,” she said. “You had no reason to trust me.”
He moved to kneel at her feet. “I suppose you’re right, but only at first. By the time we got off the plane, I was debating with myself about telling you the truth. Then we got to the old house, and I was so ashamed, I started to tell you right then. But you were the one who changed my mind.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Remember what you said when we walked inside?”
She frowned, trying to think back.
“You called it a godsend. You said that at least there you could see.”
She sighed. “Yes, I remember.”
“After that I didn’t know what to do. So I let the lie stay. But not because I didn’t trust you. Not then.”
“Even so, it wouldn’t have mattered,” Rachel said. Then she looked around in quiet wonder. “Is there anything else I need to know before I put you to bed?”
He watched her face. The hesitancy hurt him, and he knew that he needed to heal what he’d done.
“Yes, baby, actually, there is.”
Rachel tried to smile, but he could tell she was still feeling ashamed.
“It means another trip, but this one’s real short.”
She nodded. “Whatever it takes, Houston. Whatever it takes.”
A few minutes later she pulled back onto the highway, again driving at his direction.
“Turn here,” Houston said.
As they turned down the old county road, Rachel took a deep breath, telling herself she could do this. Even though it had been over a year since the auction, she still wasn’t ready to accept that this was no longer her home.
She saw the rooftop first, and from a distance thought it looked a bit like an old gray hat, shading a weathered face from the west Texas sun. As they drove closer, she could see that a new metal gate had been hung at the head of the drive. She tried to look away, but the pull was too strong.
“Oh, Houston.”
He reached across the seat and touched her arm. She was trembling. This had gone on long enough.
“Pull over,” he said shortly.
She hit the brake, then put the truck in park.
“It’s yours, Rachel. I bought it with the first oil check I got.”
She jerked as if she’d been slapped, and she started to cry. She’d walked out on him and he’d still done this for her. While she’d been chasing rainbows, Houston had been planting her pot of gold.
“Why?” she whispered. “After what I did to you, I didn’t deserve it.”
“Let’s just call it your wedding present.” He tilted her face, making her look at him. “Everyone deserves to have roots, Rachel Ann. This place was yours. It may take a while for them to grow back, but if you trust enough, it will happen.”
Then he reached in his pocket and took out another set of keys, keys that would open the gate, the house, and, he hoped, her heart. This time he handed them to her, and pointed to a pair of small white crosses on the hillside beyond the house.
“Here, Cherokee. Go say hello to your mama and daddy. They’ve been waiting for you to come home.”
About the Author
With fifty books in print, award-winning author SHARON SALA, who also writes as DINAH McCALL, still has to remind herself from time to time that this isn’t a dream.
She learned to read at the age of four and has had her nose in a book ever since. Her introduction into romance came at an early age through the stories of Zane Gray, Grace Livingston Hill, and Emily Loring. Her pride in contributing to the genre is echoed by the letters of her fans.
She’s a four-time RITA finalist, Winner of the Janet Dailey Award, three-time Career Achievement winner from Romantic Times magazine, four-time winner of the National Reader’s Choice Award, and five-time winner of the Colorado Romance Writer’s Award of Excellence, as well as numerous other industry awards.
Her books are regularly on bestseller lists, such as the New York Times, USA Today, Publishers Weekly, Waldenbooks mass market, and many others.
She claims that for her, learning to read was a matter of evolution, but learning to write and then being published were a revolution. It changed her life, her world, and her fate.
Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins author.
Books by
Sharon Sala
CHANCE MCCALL CHASE THE MOON DEEP IN THE HEART DIAMOND FINDERS KEEPERS LUCKY QUEEN SECOND CHANCES TOUCHSTONE
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
TOUCHSTONE. Copyright © 1999 by Sharon Sala. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
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