The Ranger And The Widow Woman

by Bagwell, Stella

  “Is she married?”

  Charlie grunted with wry amusement. “Caroline married? She wishes. She’s a fiery redhead like my mom. She hasn’t found a man brave enough to take her on. But she’s only twenty-three. That’s too young to get married, anyway.”

  Violet glanced at him briefly, then turned her eyes on the distant hills. “I’m twenty-four and I feel like an old woman.”

  Though she appeared to be very young physically, Charlie was inclined to believe she really did feel old. She looked at him with eyes far older than her years, eyes that had already seen more than many did in a lifetime.

  “Violet, I...earlier in the bedroom...it’s not like me to jump to conclusions over an innocent remark.” He forced himself to look at her, and he felt a jolt deep inside as his eyes caught the green shimmer of her gaze staring back at him. “And grabbing you like I did...you’ll do well not to read anything into that.”

  She swallowed as an unexpected lump of emotion filled her throat. She wasn’t looking for a man. After the damage Brent had wrought on her heart, she didn’t know if she could ever trust another man or even if she wanted to try. But to hear Charlie dismiss their kiss as though it had been nothing to him, cut her deep.

  “If you’re trying to apologize, Charlie, there’s really no need. I realize this has to be unsettling to have a woman and child in your cabin on your first night home. And I didn’t figure that was really you kissing me, anyway,” she lied.

  His eyes narrowed on her face. “Who did you think it was?”

  One of her shoulders lifted and fell and she ducked her head as heat filled her cheeks. “That was just your frustration coming out,” she murmured.

  He leaned his hip against the porch railing and crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re wrong, Violet. It was a little bit of me coming out.” He studied her down-bent head. She might have been married for six years and borne a child, but she still seemed terribly naive in some ways.

  “I get the idea you think I’m not like other men because I’m a Texas Ranger. That’s where you’re wrong. Men are men under any guise. And deep down all of us are selfish. That’s just the way we’re made. We can’t help it.”

  Her expression turned to comic disbelief. “Why are you saying such things to me? Are you afraid I’m going to let my imagination run away with me? That I’ll get to thinking you kissed me because you wanted to?” She let out a scoffing laugh. “Charlie, I might be young in years, but I wasn’t born yesterday. I’m not getting those sorts of ideas about you. Believe me, as soon as I can get out of your hair, I’ll be glad to go.”

  He was getting the urge to kiss her again, to reach over and pluck her from the chair, pull her into his arms and ravish her soft lips. Violet thought it was frustration and not really him that had compelled him to kiss her. But right this moment it felt like the urge was pure Charlie Pardee.

  “Violet,” he started to say, then stopped and heaved out a heavy breath. “I’m not telling you all this just to hear myself talk! When you leave here you can’t go around trusting the first man who comes along!”

  He was actually angry! She couldn’t believe him. “I have no intention of doing such a thing.”

  “But you might be tempted. Especially when things are going rough and you start to have doubts about making it on your own. You might be tempted to lean on a man... to let him take care of you. And he just might be the wrong man.

  Her head swung from side to side. “Do I look stupid or something? Or do you give this sort of lecture to all the women you know?”

  He made a little growling sound in his throat. “No. I don’t normally preach to the females I come in contact with. But I know...without you having to tell me...that you have problems.”

  She opened her mouth to deny his speculation, but he held up his hand and barged on without giving her the chance. “Maybe your trouble wasn’t over a man. But then, maybe it was.” His eyes flicked insolently over her. “From the looks of you, I’d bet everything I own that you left Texas because of a man.”

  What was he seeing when he looked at her, a jezebel, a siren, a lady of the night? Love or sex had nothing to do with her flight from Texas, and the very idea that he thought it did enraged her.

  “Then you’d lose,” Violet whispered fiercely. “Not that it’s any of your business!”

  She was about to rise from the chair when Charlie suddenly grabbed her arm and jerked her to her feet.

  “What are you—” The rest of her question was lost as she landed with a thump against his chest, and the breath whooshed out of her.

  “I’m making it my business,” he muttered, his hand snatching a grip on her chin. “Somebody needs to shock some sense into you!”

  Sense? What sort of sense was this, she wanted to scream at him, but he didn’t give her the chance. His head bent, and before she could draw a breath his lips were hovering above hers, turning her heart into a frantic runaway.

  “I don’t think you realize the trouble you could get yourself into. With me...or any man,” he whispered roughly.

  Any man could never make her feel like this, she thought wildly. Just the idea of feeling his lips against hers made her head reel. But as for trouble, she’d grown up with it, lived with and was still trying to get out of it.

  “Trouble is my middle name, Ranger Pardee. But it isn’t your problem,” she said, hating the sound of her breathy voice and the thrill she was feeling at being so close to him.

  She was right. It wasn’t his problem. And he should load her up right now, this very minute, and haul her into Ruidoso. But the kid was inside asleep. It would be cruel to jerk him out of bed, Charlie argued with himself.

  And anyway, he knew he’d never be able to leave her at some motel and drive away. She reminded him too much of another young woman who’d sworn she was capable of taking care of herself. She hadn’t been. And neither was Violet O’Dell. That’s why he was going to have to do it for her. At least for a little while.

  “I’m a Texas Ranger. My job is dealing with trouble before or after it happens. And it looks like right now my job is you.”

  Shocked by his touch and all that he was saying, Violet stared helplessly up into his blue eyes until his face grew so close it was nothing but a blur. And then it was too late to tell herself to push him away, to convince herself she didn’t want to be in his arms. He was kissing her again. And this time it didn’t feel a bit like anger. It felt all man.

  Chapter Four

  The morning air was cool with just a hint of breeze, and Violet sighed with appreciation as she lifted her coffee cup to her lips. She’d been sitting on the porch for at least thirty minutes, savoring the quiet of the desert while waiting for the two males inside the house to wake.

  Not that she was looking forward to facing Charlie this morning. After that kiss on the porch last night, Violet wished she could hide under a rock with one of those homed toads he’d been telling Sam about yesterday.

  Even though she’d finally managed to gather enough of her senses together to end the kiss, as far as she was concerned it had been too little, too late. Her lips had already told him how much she liked the taste of him.

  As for Charlie thinking he needed to take care of her, she didn’t know where he’d gotten the idea. And once she’d managed to pull herself out of his arms, she hadn’t waited around to ask him. She’d run straight to the bedroom, slipped into bed with Sam and prayed for sleep to blot out her churning thoughts. Too bad it had taken hours for that to happen, and even then her eyes had popped back open long before dawn.

  Violet was still trying to put last night and Charlie out of her mind when the far-off hum of a vehicle caught her attention. She didn’t believe there were other roads branching off the one coming here to the house. From what Charlie had told her, this whole section of land belonged solely to the Pardees. They didn’t lease any of it, and their only neighbors lived several more miles on down the highway.

  She had just about decided to
go wake Charlie and warn him that someone was coming when a blue pickup truck topped a rise just to the south. Violet watched the truck and the following plume of dust as it curved its way through the juniper and sage and finally pulled to a halt a few feet away from the porch.

  Even more surprising to Violet than the idea of someone calling not long after sunrise was the sight of the woman driver climbing to the ground. She was tall and slender and wore blue jeans and a sleeveless white top. Her hair was a fiery copper color and pulled atop her head in a mass of loose curls. She was more than just attractive. She was sexy and carried herself with an air of self-confidence that Violet was still searching for.

  As she approached the steps she eyed Violet as if finding a woman there was as unexpected as snow in July. “Hello,” she said guardedly. “Who are you?”

  Violet unconsciously gripped the lapels of her cotton robe together. The garment was modestly cut and thick enough to hide her shape, but something about the redhead made her feel terribly exposed.

  “Hello,” she replied in a raspy voice, then deliberately cleared her throat before going on. “I’m Violet.”

  The redhead removed her dark glasses as she climbed the wooden steps. “I’m Justine Pardee. Charlie’s mother. Is my son here?”

  This was Charlie’s mother? She couldn’t be old enough! Dumbfounded, Violet slowly nodded. “Yes. But he’s still asleep.”

  “Oh.” Justine eased down in the chair next to Violet. “I heard last night that he’d come home, and I couldn’t wait any longer to see him,” she explained, then smiled warmly. “I didn’t realize he’d brought company with him.”

  Violet’s cheeks blushed deep red. Dear Heaven, what must his mother be thinking? Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good.

  “Oh, I’m not company,” she said quickly, then thinking that probably sounded peculiar she added, “I mean, Charlie just picked me up on the highway.”

  Justine Pardee’s brows winged upward, and Violet could see her response had only made the situation seem even worse.

  “You see, it’s my car. It broke down, and Charlie was kind enough to stop and help me.”

  Understanding suddenly dawned in the other woman’s eyes, and she nodded at Violet. “That would be my son. He still thinks he’s the Durango Kid.”

  Violet’s brow puckered. “I beg your pardon?”

  Justine chuckled softly. “I’m sorry. Unless you’re an old movie fan, you’re far too young to know who the Kid was. He was a Saturday-afternoon matinee idol. A cowboy version of Sir Galahad.”

  So it wasn’t unusual for Charlie to go around saving damsels in distress. Violet was probably just one of many. No more special than the first or the last one.

  “Well, I tried to assure him I could manage on my own, but somehow I ended up out here,” Violet tried to explain. The last thing she wanted was to have this lovely woman thinking she’d tried to seduce her son in any way.

  Suddenly there was a shuffle of feet at the door. Both women looked around to see Sam’s little face pressed against the screen.

  “I’m hungry, Mommy. When are we gonna eat?”

  Violet glanced at Justine. Her eyes were shining with a smile as she observed Sam just inside the door.

  “This is your son?”

  Violet nodded, then motioned for Sam to come to her. The boy trotted barefoot across the porch and sidled up to his mother’s knee.

  “Mrs. Pardee, this is my son, Sam.”

  “Hello, Sam,” Justine said gently. “How old are you?”

  “Four,” he announced, holding up the fingers to match.

  “Only four! My goodness you look big enough to be five or six!” she exclaimed.

  Sam giggled. “I’m nearly five and I like to eat. Mommy says that makes me grow.”

  “You know what? Charlie likes to eat, too,” Justine told him. “So why don’t we go to the kitchen and find something for breakfast?”

  “Yeah! I like pancakes!”

  “Sam! You little beggar, you’ll eat what’s in the kitchen!” Violet exclaimed. Her son had never been the bashful sort. But she’d never seen him take to anyone as quickly as he had Charlie and now his mother.

  “Oh, don’t scold him for being honest,” Justine said to Violet with a tinkling laugh, then taking Sam by the hand, she led him toward the door. “Come on, Sam. If the ants haven’t found the syrup, we’ll have pancakes. And if Charlie doesn’t wake up by the time they’re cooked, we’ll eat his, too.”

  Inside the house Violet slowly followed the two of them to the kitchen. Along the way she glanced over her shoulder to see Charlie’s bedroom door was still shut. With all the noise that was going on now, she doubted he could still be asleep, and she wondered what he’d think about finding his mother here so early.

  In the kitchen Justine went to the refrigerator and pulled open the door. Empty shelves stared back at her. “My son didn’t bring any fresh groceries with him?”

  “He did. But they’re still in the ice chest. The refrigerator was shut off. He was waiting for it to cool down.”

  “Roy and I decided to unplug it. Our son gets home so rarely these days the whole inside would mold over between visits.”

  The woman’s remark surprised Violet. She’d sensed that Charlie was fond, even proud, of this place. And Texas wasn’t all that far from here. Did he stay away because he had to or because the need to come back home rarely hit him?

  “When—uh, was the last time Charlie was here?” Violet asked her.

  With a grimace Justine shut the door and crossed to the cabinets where she pulled a white apron from one of the drawers and tied it around her slender waist. “About a year ago. Of course it hasn’t been that long since I’ve seen him. Roy and I travel to Fort Worth from time to time.” Glancing at Violet she asked, “Where are you from? I hear the South in your voice.”

  “Georgia, originally. Texas the past few years.”

  “I’ve never been as far east as Georgia. But I’ve been to Mississippi. We rode down the river on a steamboat. I’ll never forget it. All that history and beauty.”

  Amazed at the woman’s open friendliness, she could do little more than nod.

  Justine opened the cabinets and pulled down a plastic canister of flour. “Actually, there’s a lot of history and beauty around here, too,” she went on. “And not unlike the South, there was a war fought here, too. First between the settlers and the Apaches. Then came the Lincoln County range war.”

  “I’ve heard of it,” Violet replied. “Movies have been made about the fierce gun battles between the ranchers. But I didn’t realize the range war was in this area.”

  Justine opened another cabinet door in search of a bowl. “On this very ground,” Justine told her. “You’re in Lincoln County.”

  Violet settled Sam in a chair at the table, then joined Charlie’s mother at the counter. Just being in the same room with the woman made her feel disheveled and awkward and totally out of place.

  “Is there something I can do?”

  With sudden misgivings, Justine glanced at Violet. “Oh, I’m sorry, Violet. I guess it looks like I’ve just barged in and taken over.”

  “It doesn’t—” she cleared her throat “—please, don’t apologize. It’s your place to take over. I’m—just here because of—circumstance.”

  Justine waved away her words with a wooden spoon. “It doesn’t matter why you’re here, honey. I’m sure Charlie wants you to feel at home, and I do, too. So dig out some bacon or sausage or whatever the Kid brought to eat, and we’ll have breakfast.”

  Violet couldn’t believe Charlie’s mother was being so warm and accepting to a woman she’d only met minutes before. She’d never had a mother-in-law. Brent’s mother had passed away when he’d been a young child, and Rex had never remarried.

  She knew most of the bad mother-in-law stories she heard were wildly exaggerated. Still, she figured the woman who got Justine for a mother-in-law would be lucky indeed.

  While Justi
ne mixed the pancake batter, Violet put on a skilletful of bacon and sausage to fry. Once it was sizzling, she poured Sam a glass of orange juice and sent him out on the porch to drink it.

  She was placing plates around the farm table when Charlie walked into the kitchen. His only attempt at modesty was a pair of faded blue jeans, and as Violet’s gaze dipped downward over his bare chest, she knew she’d never seen such raw sensuality in her whole life. He looked like a man who pumped iron, but Violet seriously doubted his job allowed him any time for the gym. More than likely he got all those muscles from lifting women into his arms.

  Sandy hair flopped into his sleepy eyes. He raked it back with a rough hand, then skimmed a glance over Violet before turning his attention to Justine, who was yet unaware her son had entered the room.

  Without a word he walked up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist. “Hi, Mom.”

  “Charlie!”

  She whirled around and smacked kisses on both sides of his face. “Look at you! You look like death warmed over! You’re so skinny!”

  She poked her fingers at his washboard abdomen, causing a half grin to curve his lips. And Violet suddenly had her answer. For all his gruffness and sarcasm, Charlie was glad to see his mother.

  “I weigh over two hundred pounds, Mom. I can’t be skinny.”

  “Well, you look as gaunt as a racehorse to me,” she protested, then sniffed as tears welled up in her eyes.

  Charlie glanced at Violet as if to say I told you so. Violet was amazed to find a lump had collected in her own throat. To think Charlie had once been this woman’s little boy, just as Sam was hers now, touched a spot in Violet.

  “It looks like you two have already introduced yourselves,” he said to his mother.

  “Yes, we did. And I can’t believe you were lying in bed instead of keeping this beautiful young woman company.”

  His sidelong glance at Violet was mocking. “Violet doesn’t need my company,” he drawled. “She just needs her car fixed.”

  Moving down the counter, he poured himself a cup of coffee from the drip machine Violet had used earlier this morning. After a couple of careful sips, he asked his mother, “How did you know I was here?”