A South Texas Christmas

by Stella Bagwell

  Groaning, he grabbed the phone from his secretary’s plump hand. “Neil Rankin here.”

  “Uh, this is Raine. Raine Crockett. I’m calling about the article you put in the paper—about the woman you’re searching for.”

  The voice sounded light and sweet and young, and the thought quickly ran through his mind that a mischievous teenager might be on the other end of the line.

  “Okay. Where are you calling from, Ms. Crockett?”

  After a short pause she said, “The Sandbur Ranch. It’s located north of Goliad, Texas. Do you know where that is?”

  There was an eager note in her question, as though she was hoping she’d found a transplanted Texan on the other end of the phone. The idea put a faint smile on Neil’s face. “Sorry, Ms. Crockett. I’ve only visited Texas twice in my lifetime and both times were to Dallas.”

  “Oh. Well, I’m far from Dallas, Mr. Rankin. The ranch is about fifty miles south of San Antonio.”

  The mention of the Alamo city caught his attention and he planted his hip on the corner of the desk while he picked up a notepad and motioned for Connie to hand him a pen.

  “I see,” he said to the young woman. “So what prompted you to call me, Ms. Crockett? Do you know Darla Carlton or Jaycee?”

  “No. At least, I don’t think so. I’m calling—well, to be honest, I’m not sure I should have called you at all. I could be wasting your time.”

  “Don’t worry about it. No one else does,” he said with false cheeriness.

  Connie frowned at him while he doodled on the notepad resting next to his hip.

  “Okay,” the sweet voice replied. “I called you because the woman in the picture resembles my mother.”

  Neil’s sandy-brown brows pulled together to form a line across his forehead. “Is your mother’s name Darla Carlton?”

  “No.”

  “Was she ever married to Jaycee Carlton?”

  “No. Not that I’m aware of.”

  “Is your mother missing?”

  There was a long pause in his ear followed by a tiny sigh. The sound told Neil this woman was troubled and he realized he hated the idea. Particularly when she sounded so nice. But, hell, he could hardly help every troubled soul in the world. Even if she had the voice of an angel.

  “If your mother isn’t missing, then you obviously know who she is and where she is, right?”

  “Well, not exactly…”

  Her words trailed away and Neil was surprised at the disappointment flooding through him. Something about this young woman had made him hope for her sake that she had a connection to Darla Carlton. But it didn’t sound as though that were the case.

  “Look, Ms. Crockett, I’m sorry to cut you short, but I have a luncheon appointment. And I really don’t see any point in us continuing this conversation.”

  He could hear a fierce intake of breath on the other end of the line and the next thing he expected was the sound of the receiver clicking the phone line dead. But that didn’t happen. Instead the young woman’s voice changed from sweet to clipped and cool.

  “I’ve been waiting twenty-four years to find my mother’s lost identity, Mr. Rankin. Surely your lunch appointment can wait for five more minutes.”

  Her words knocked the air from him and for a moment all he could do was grip the phone and stare at Connie’s curious face.

  “You—what do you mean?” he finally asked in a rush.

  She hesitated, then said, “It’s too complicated to go into now. Go to your lunch, Mr. Rankin. You can call me back later.”

  “No! Wait!” he practically shouted. “Please don’t hang up. I’m—sorry if I seemed short. I really am interested, Ms. Crockett.”

  Silence met his apology, but at least the phone line was still connected. Finally she said, “I’m sorry, too, for being so curt, Mr. Rankin. You’ve got to understand that this is difficult for me. My mother would be very upset if she found out I was doing this. And I hate going behind her back.”

  “You say her identity was lost?”

  “That’s right. Twenty-four years ago. But I don’t really want to go into the whole story over the telephone. Is there any way I could meet with you?”

  Neil’s mind was suddenly spinning. He wanted to hear this woman’s story. “Sure we could meet. If you’re willing to travel up here to New Mexico.”

  “Oh. That’s—out of the question.”

  She sounded disappointed and Neil had to admit he was feeling a bit deflated himself. As a lawyer he had the impression her story needed to be explored. And as a man he would like to see for himself what sort of woman Ms. Raine Crockett was.

  “Why? Is there some reason you can’t travel?” he asked.

  His questions were met with another long hesitation, then she said, “I can’t leave my job right now, Mr. Rankin. And I don’t have a feasible reason to give my mother for traveling to New Mexico.”

  “You’re underage?” He was worried now that his first impression was correct.

  “I’m almost twenty-four, Mr. Rankin—not underage. I just happen to love my mother and I don’t want to do anything that might…hurt her.”

  How could finding the woman’s past possibly hurt her? Neil wondered with confusion. But he didn’t voice the question to Ms. Crockett. She was obviously a cautious little thing and he didn’t want to put her off.

  “Well, surely you could come up with some excuse that wouldn’t raise eyebrows,” he suggested.

  “I can’t think of one. You see, I’ve never traveled on my own and—” She paused, then went on in a disgusted way, “Oh, this was a bad idea anyway. Let’s just forget it.”

  Neil jumped off the corner of the desk. “Ms. Crockett, why can’t we discuss this over the telephone? It would be much simpler for both of us. Why don’t I go have my lunch and I’ll call you when I get back? You won’t even have to be out the expense of another phone call,” Neil suggested.

  “Wait just a moment,” she said in a suddenly hushed tone. “Someone is coming into the room.”

  Frowning, Neil started to ask her what that had to do with anything, but she must have partially covered the receiver with her hand. He could hear the muted sound of voices in the background. The conversation went on for less than a minute and then she came back onto the line.

  “Mr. Rankin, are you still there?”

  “Still here.”

  “Great,” she said with a measure of relief, then, “I’m sorry about that. You see, my mother works in the same house as I do. That was her. She’s going out this afternoon. I think—maybe it would be better if you did call me back. At least I could give you a brief rundown.”

  Neil had the feeling he was agreeing to some sort of clandestine meeting or something worse. But he was already this far into this strange exchange. He couldn’t drop it all now. He’d be curious for the rest of his life.

  “All right, Ms. Crockett. I’ll call you back in about an hour. How’s that?”

  “Fine. I’ll give you my extension number. But if someone other than me does happen to answer, just say that you’re calling to—to talk to me about a computer I’m thinking about purchasing.”

  Now she was prompting him to make up stories, he thought incredibly. Something smelled very fishy about this whole setup.

  “I’m a lawyer, Ms. Crockett. Not a computer salesman.”

  “Please! Just do as I ask. If you can’t be covert about this, then there’s no use in us going on.”

  He looked at Connie and rolled his eyes. The secretary shook her finger at him.

  What the hell, Neil thought. At the very worst, Ms. Raine Crockett was trying to set him up, but for what or why he couldn’t guess. He would have to find out for himself.

  “All right. I can be discreet,” he promised.

  “Good. Let me give you the number.”

  Neil took down the telephone number, then added a last warning, “Ms. Crockett, before you hang up, let me tell you right now that if I were you, I wouldn’t get my hopes up
.”

  “I wouldn’t know how to do that,” she said, then clicked the phone dead in his ear.

  Chapter Two

  The moment Neil dropped the receiver back on its hook, Connie asked, “What was that? Or should I ask who was that?”

  “Some woman down in south Texas,” Neil said wonderingly.

  Connie was enthralled. “So? What do you think?”

  With a wry shake of his head, Neil looked at his secretary. “You know, when Nevada first came to me about finding Linc’s mother, I never thought the search would turn into me dealing with people who have more problems than this ole boy knows how to deal with.”

  Frowning, Connie said, “You’re making her sound like a mental case—or something worse.”

  Neil peeled the phone number from Connie’s notepad, folded the paper, then stowed it away in his shirt pocket.

  “How do you know she isn’t? You don’t know what was said on the other end of the line.”

  “I don’t have to know the whole conversation,” Connie argued. “The woman is obviously searching for someone she loves. You could show a little more sensitivity, you know. What’s the matter with you, anyway? If people didn’t have problems we’d never have any clients.”

  Neil had practiced law for thirteen years. Once he’d passed the bar exam and gotten his license, he’d gone to work in Farmington. Not a huge city by any means, but compared to Aztec it had been like moving from the secluded countryside to downtown Manhattan. The firm had specialized in wrongful lawsuits and he’d hated the experience so much that for a brief time he’d considered giving up law completely. Until he’d come back home to Aztec and decided to open an office of his own where he could help people with an array of needs rather than constantly suing someone.

  His clients trickled in sporadically and sometimes not at all. But that was all right with Neil. He didn’t want to be one of those harried men who died before they ever had a hand on a retirement check. Like his father had.

  “Yeah, yeah. I need to be a nicer person. This afternoon when I call the woman back, I’ll try to be more sympathetic.” As he hurried to the door, he shot her a wicked grin. “And don’t look at me in that shameful way, honey. You know how I hate to disappoint you.”

  Rolling her eyes, Connie motioned for him to leave and chuckling under his breath, Neil shut the door behind him and headed down the sidewalk toward the Wagon Wheel.

  For early December, the day was mild. Most often, this time of year brought brutally cold weather to this northern corner of the state. It wasn’t unusual to see snow and even blizzard conditions, so the warmth of the weak, wintry sun shining down on his broad shoulders was an unexpected pleasure.

  The Wagon Wheel Café was situated off Main Street and had been in existence for more years than Neil had been alive. It was far from the nicest eating place in Aztec. The vinyl booths were worn and the Formica bar running the length of the room had lost its red and white pattern from all the elbows and dishes sliding over it. But the down-home, friendly atmosphere and good food made up for any shortcomings. Once Thanksgiving had passed, the waitresses had cheered up the place by hanging Christmas bells and glittery tinsel from the ceiling. Poinsettias sat on every table and behind the bar a CD player constantly spun songs of the season.

  During the weekdays, Neil always ate lunch here. But he didn’t often get to lunch with the busy county sheriff. And now that Quito and Clementine were married and trying to start a family, he saw his old friend even less.

  When Neil entered the café, he immediately spotted Quito sitting in a booth situated by a plate-glass window overlooking the adjacent street. A stranger to Neil was standing at the edge of the table talking amiably to the sheriff, but as soon as he walked up to the booth, the other man politely excused himself.

  “Sorry if I interrupted something,” Neil apologized to his friend as he slipped into the seat. “And before you start in—yes, I’m aware that I’m late, but it couldn’t be helped.”

  Quito, who had a mixture of Navajo and Mexican blood, was a handsome man of rough features and a body built like a small bull. Neil had often wished he had just half of the sheriff’s charisma. It was no wonder that the man had easily held his office for the past fifteen years.

  “I’m not griping,” Quito replied. “But I was beginning to wonder.”

  “Have you ordered yet?” Neil asked.

  “No. I waited for you.”

  Before Neil could reply, a waitress appeared at the side of their table and the two men quickly ordered the blue plate special. Today it was pork roast with brown gravy, mashed potatoes, corn and cherry cobbler. Not a dieter’s dream, but Neil didn’t have to worry about any flab on his six-foot frame. At least, not yet. But he was thirty-nine years old. Who knew what middle-aged maladies might strike him next year?

  “So were you flooded with clients this morning?” Quito asked once the waitress filled their coffee cups and left the table.

  Neil laughed. “Not hardly. Other than me, I think Connie’s the only one who’s been in and out of the front door this morning.”

  Amused by his friend’s response, Quito shook his head. “You don’t appear to be too worried about it.”

  Neil reached for his coffee. “No need to worry. Worry can’t change anything. Besides, I never wanted to be rich.”

  Which couldn’t be more true, Neil thought. He’d never been a man obsessed with acquiring a fortune. He lived modestly, on a place out of town, where the only neighbors he had were coyotes and sometimes bear. He’d purchased the land with money that his father had left him when he’d died of a sudden heart attack. James Rankin had only been forty-five years old at the time. His father’s premature death was an everyday reminder to Neil that money couldn’t buy happiness or immortality.

  “Well, you’ll never be destitute,” Quito remarked fondly. “So if a client didn’t keep you at the office, what did?”

  “Connie!”

  “Your secretary? What’s the matter with her?”

  “Nothing. She answered the phone,” Neil quipped.

  Quito chuckled. “Isn’t that what you pay the woman to do?”

  “I pay her to do what I tell her to do. And I told her not to answer the phone,” he said with a grimace. “On top of that, she made me talk to the caller.”

  “What a hell of a thing for her to do,” Quito said with wry humor.

  Seeing that his friend was practically laughing, Neil grinned. “Okay. Call me crazy, but I’ve had a hell of a week. I’m not a private investigator, Quito, but ever since I put that damn picture of Darla Carlton in the San Antonio Express, I’ve had to try to play Mike Hammer.”

  Quito chuckled. “You’re showing your age with that reference. And that shouldn’t be so hard for you, Neil. You already have the playboy part down.”

  “You’re as sharp as a tack today, old buddy,” Neil retorted, while thinking the sort of experience he’d had with women wasn’t likely to be helpful with Ms. Raine Crockett. She didn’t sound like the type who could be easily charmed by a man. “So why don’t you advise me as to how to deal with nut cases?”

  Quito glanced at him. “Is that what this last caller was, too?”

  Neil released a weary breath and started to answer, but the waitress appeared with their food. Neil waited until she’d served them and the two men had started to eat before he continued the conversation.

  “Actually this one wasn’t a kook. In fact, she sounded pleasant enough, only a little strange. And two things she said did intrigue me.”

  “The caller was a woman?”

  Neil nodded as the conversation with Raine Crockett played over in his mind. He realized he was eager to talk with her again. And not just because she might accidentally be a lead to Darla Carlton. There had been something innocent and vulnerable in her voice. Her words had touched him in a way that had taken him by complete surprise; a fact that he wasn’t about to share with the sheriff. Quito would think he was crazy and Neil would proba
bly have to agree with him.

  “A very young woman,” Neil answered. “Her name is Raine Crockett.”

  “And what was so intriguing about this Raine Crockett?” Quito asked, then added, “I might be able to help.”

  “I’m probably going to need it,” Neil told him as he picked up his fork and shoveled it into the potatoes and gravy. “First of all, she said she was calling from a ranch north of Goliad, Texas. That’s not all that far from San Antonio.”

  Quito nodded with deduction. “That’s where Linc’s stepfather was from.”

  “Right,” Neil responded. “Now add that to the notion that this young woman said her mother’s past identity had been lost.”

  Quito frowned. “What the hell does that mean? The mother doesn’t know who she is?”

  Neil turned a palm upward in a helpless gesture. “Don’t know yet what it means. And this young woman was reluctant to explain anything over the telephone.” Scared was more like it, Neil thought, and he was eager to find out why. “But she had the timing right. Her mother apparently lost her memory twenty-four years ago. That’s when Darla disappeared.”

  “Could just be coincidence,” the sheriff told him in a dismissive way.

  “Could be,” Neil agreed. “But I’m calling her back this afternoon and I’m going to do my damned best to get some answers from her.”

  Quito was silent for a few moments as he ate and thought about Neil’s words. Then he warned, “You’d better be careful, Neil. There’s plenty of con artists out there just waiting to pounce on people searching for missing family members. You might turn around twice and realize she’s taken you for a ride.”

  “No chance,” Neil said with a shake of his head. “I’m not that dumb. At least, not where women are concerned.”

  His friend grunted with amusement. “Since when?”

  Neil chuckled. “All right,” he conceded. “I’ve made a few bad choices in my lifetime. But the lessons have made me wiser. Never believe a pair of pretty blue eyes.”

  Quito glanced across the table to Neil. “What about green ones? Or brown? Or gray?”