Texas Rebel

by Jean Brashear

  “Yes, ma’am.” A tortured sigh.

  Her Bethie, so much more reserved than her ebullient sister, smiled back over her shoulder and gave a surreptitious thumbs-up.

  Veronica grinned and repeated the gesture, then blew her more sensible daughter a kiss. Beth might be quiet, but she was every bit as bright as her sister. She’d simply never seen the need to do a lot of talking, because heaven knows her sister was more than willing to do the talking for them both.

  She watched them skip their way toward the booth closest to the door, then speak to the occupants who smiled and let them climb inside.

  That’s how it was in Sweetgrass. The children were raised by a community, and there were eyes on them wherever they went.

  Except—and she knew she was not the only rueful one present—towheaded Eric Bronson. If Rissa hadn’t taken an interest in him and given him a refuge when his mother’s poor taste in boyfriends erupted into violence…the consequences made a mother shudder to think.

  She would never wish the death of a parent on any child, however pitiful a mother Gina had been to Eric.

  But it had been the luckiest day of his life when he’d stolen into Rissa’s barn to hide. The woman Scarlett called Cousin Crankypants hid a huge heart beneath her crusty exterior…and wouldn’t anyone forced to live with James Gallagher have to form a protective hide?

  Jackson had never been able to do that. He was of genius intellect and set the bar high for his own performance. Boys wanted their dads’ approval, yet he’d received none from his own. He’d taken every criticism of his father’s to heart, but he couldn’t change who he was—he was no rancher. He was meant for so much more. The constant battering to a teenage boy’s psyche had only spurred him to new rebellions, and all that had saved him was his mother Mary’s boundless well of love.

  She’d envied him his mother. Mary would stand up to James, though more often she simply loved him out of his tyrannical ways.

  Veronica’s own mother Sarah had been a pale ghost, a wispy presence too terrified to say boo to Vernon Patton, a man who used his fists to enforce his will. He and her brother Tank, a year older than she, had fought battles Jackson could not have imagined. Tank had been her defender, and much as people did not like him in Sweetgrass, they couldn’t understand why he behaved as he did. No one from a normal family could truly imagine what he’d endured growing up.

  She wished for the woman who would show Tank the softness she knew he craved, however hard it would be for him to accept.

  She and Jackson had only ever met in secret because of her father. There were generations of hard feelings between the Gallaghers and the Pattons over a land deal gone wrong. So though Jackson had wanted to bring their love into the light, she knew better. Instead, they made plans for the bright future they would share.

  She couldn’t remember their love anymore and didn’t want to. She understood the truth now—their love would have shriveled in sunlight; it had only thrived in shadow. It had not been strong enough for Jackson to stay. Or for him to take her with him.

  Her father’s wrath was the reason she’d wound up married to David Butler after Jackson vanished. She was set to run away herself when she’d realized she was pregnant, but David, blessed, kind David, had been there. Had convinced her that marrying him was the better path.

  If her heart had been shredded to bits by Jackson’s betrayal and the ensuing realization that she was going to have his baby, David Butler performed a healing that was little short of a miracle. It had taken a long time to fall in love with her husband, her savior, but she had, and she would miss him to her dying day.

  “Mrs. Butler?” came a soft voice, yanking her from her thoughts.

  Startled, she glanced up. “Brenda, you can call me Veronica. You make me feel really old, saying Mrs. Butler.”

  The very shy Brenda flushed. “It doesn’t seem right, ma’am.”

  Veronica clutched at her heart. “Oh, dear. Ma’am, even. I can feel my bones creaking.”

  Distress rose in Brenda’s eyes, and Veronica thought, not for the first time, that Brenda was a kindred soul. Someone had all but snuffed the spirit out of this girl. She laid her hand over Brenda’s where it clutched her order pad, and the girl flinched slightly, confirming Veronica’s suspicions. “I’m just teasing you. You call me whatever you like.” She removed her hand slowly, dipping her head to catch Brenda’s downcast gaze. “I’m harvesting the last of the marigolds this week. Would you want to come help?”

  “Oh, yes. You don’t have to pay me this time, though.”

  Veronica resisted a sigh. She wasn’t sure which one of them the town found more charity-worthy. “I’m paying you,” she said firmly, then smiled. “You’re excellent help. You have a real feel for flowers.”

  “I love them,” Brenda gushed. “I’d do it every day if—” She bit her lip.

  “I know. Ruby needs you, too, and we all owe Ruby. Don’t you worry about it. I do understand.”

  Just then she heard a din at the doorway and glanced over, expecting to see the birthday boy arriving. She rose, a smile on her face—

  Her heart stopped.

  It was Jackson.

  She couldn’t stifle her gasp.

  “What is it?” Brenda asked. “What’s wrong?”

  She gripped the table. “Nothing. I’m fine. Just…stumbled.” She summoned a smile. “You go on back to work. I’ll let you know the day I’ll be harvesting, and you can decide then if you can spare the time, all right?”

  “If you’re sure…”

  “Positive. Thanks, Brenda.”

  Finally the girl left.

  Veronica tried not to look back, but Jackson’s presence was a tractor beam dragging her gaze toward him, a helpless satellite of a blazing sun. She had only gotten a glimpse of him last night.

  He was…gorgeous. He’d been a handsome boy, but now he was a man in his prime, tall and lean and commanding. The staggering blue eyes that had been her world still had the power to render her knees weak, and his boyish angles had become a powerful man’s face, high cheekbones, straight nose, sinfully thick lashes, ink-black hair and brows. And his mouth…so sensual in that hard face. She thought she’d forgotten his kisses, but looking at him now, she could remember their sweetness, their heat. Recall the feel of those long, strong fingers caressing her, worshipping her as if she were the key to existence, as if she were…

  Everything.

  As he’d been to her.

  Then she realized the blue eyes were locked on hers and somehow, heaven help her, he was speaking to her, calling to her, luring her to—

  She yanked her gaze away.

  I can’t do this. Can’t be here with him, not when—

  “You okay, Mom?” Ben approached, eyes following the direction she’d been looking, and his face softened into awe. “Jackson. He’s here. Dad said he was some kind of genius, and Henry says he owns Enigma Games, you know the one with that game I play all the time, Doom Star? I’m gonna go tell him.”

  “No!” She grabbed his arm, and he whipped around, shocked at her feral tone.

  “What? Why not?”

  Others were staring, too.

  No one knows. No one but David. Keep your cool.

  “I just meant, we need to be watching for Eric right now. It’s his party. I could use your help with the girls. Abby is about to jump out of her skin, she’s so excited.”

  Frustration and longing skimmed over his features. Disappointment filled his tone when he sighed. “All right, but once Eric is here…”

  How could she keep them apart?

  Would either of them guess?

  What would Jackson do?

  You have no right to him. She sent fierce thoughts winging his way. You left me. You didn’t care enough to find out if I was dead or alive. Let me believe you could be dead.

  David was his father, not you.

  Resolutely, she ignored how he looked lonely, even in the midst of a crowd.

  He h
ad a lot of money. If he knew about Ben…

  And what would Ben do if he learned she and David had lied to him? David had been the best father a boy could ever have. She’d tell Ben someday, when he was older and could understand the difficult choices she and David had made.

  Go away, Jackson.

  He took a step as if he’d approach—

  Just then the front door opened and—thank heavens—in walked Eric.

  “Surprise! Happy birthday!” And the singing began.

  Jackson felt Veronica’s antagonism clear across the room.

  But she’d married someone else. Almost before his tracks had disappeared from the dirt road he’d stumbled down, leaving town.

  He’d planned to come back for her, but he’d been struggling to survive, to find his way in a hostile world, and before he could do anything about her, she’d turned around and married one of his best friends, the one who’d had a crush on her since junior high.

  Had she ever really loved him? Maybe he’d only been her escape hatch.

  She’d had a life with someone else, made the family he should have had with her. So why was she shooting daggers at him? He took a step, intending to…what? Talk to her? In this crowd?

  Her brother Tank, the nemesis of the four Horseman, stood across the room, bristling. He’d caught Jackson dropping her off near their ranch once. He’d never said anything to Veronica, but he’d threatened to beat the hell out of Jackson if he didn’t stay away from her, hinting at the danger she’d be in from their father—danger Vee would never discuss.

  Jackson had been even more careful after that, not because Tank frightened him, but because what Veronica’s father could do to her did. If he was right in what he guessed, he couldn’t protect Veronica from her father while she lived under his roof.

  Jackson had tried reporting him once, but the complaint had gone nowhere. They’d closed ranks as a family.

  Now he understood domestic violence better. One of his main charities was a foundation that established women’s shelters. It was his way to help other women, since he hadn’t been able to help Veronica.

  They had to talk. He wanted to understand why she hadn’t waited for him.

  “That’s a tough story,” said a voice he recognized.

  “Mr. McLaren,” he greeted Ian’s dad Gordon. “How are you?”

  “I’m mighty glad my boy managed to marry that little girl, that’s how I am. Good to see you, son.” He clapped Jackson on the shoulder.

  He looked older. It was a shock to realize that when he’d been exiled from Sweetgrass, Ian’s dad hadn’t been much past his own age now. He’d seemed invincible, but now Jackson could see the toll of the stroke Aunt Ruby had told him Mr. McLaren had suffered.

  “I haven’t met her yet. It’s hard to imagine Ian married, but he sure seems gone over her.”

  Gordon McLaren still had that great smile. “She’s a pistol, that girl, and she’s got Ian wrapped around one dainty finger. She’s made our lives a joy, and that’s God’s honest truth. Ruby’s over the moon.”

  “They seem very happy together,” Jackson murmured. He glanced back toward Veronica. “But what do you mean about her?” He nodded in her direction.

  “You know she was married to David Butler and lost him a year ago, right?”

  “So I’ve heard.”

  “She’s got too much on her hands, trying to keep that flower farm running and raise three children alone. Ian helps as much as he can, but she’s a proud woman and won’t ask anyone. She’s wearing herself to a nub.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” She did look exhausted. A fragile beauty where once she’d been filled with life.

  With him, at least.

  In secret.

  They’d never been able to be together in the open, but here, tonight, he could approach her to express his condolences, at least.

  But they wouldn’t be having any more of those two-level conversations they’d conducted in passing at school, ones where he’d devoured her with his eyes while he exchanged inanities verbally.

  Where she seldom looked at him directly because she knew, as he did, that what was between them would explode when allowed into the air.

  He’d loved her with every last breath. Would have sworn she’d felt the same.

  Now she wouldn’t look at him. Seemed to be seeking escape yet again.

  “…Afraid she’s going under soon,” Ian’s dad continued. “She can’t afford help, best I can tell, and she won’t accept charity from any of us. Not that we think of it that way. It’s just being neighborly. Long tradition here of helping each other out in tough times.”

  But not for her, Jackson thought. Her family had been reviled and ostracized. She was liked well enough herself, but her brother was a bully, and her father was worse, and not a one of them had the time of day for others. Veronica had kept her head down, studied hard and resolved to make her escape from Sweetgrass the second she could.

  “Were they happy?” he asked Ian’s dad.

  “Very. You knew David as well as anyone. He was a good boy who grew up into a solid, steady man, and he worshipped the ground she walked on. Even took on her old man for her and made him back off.”

  Jackson’s head whipped around. “Her father? What was he doing?”

  “Vernon Patton was one miserable son of a gun, and he wouldn’t let Veronica’s mother see the children unless they came over there.”

  Which she would never, ever do. “Why didn’t anyone help them when they were young?” At Mr. McLaren’s furrowed brow, Jackson continued. Realized his mistake.

  Family violence was often such a well-kept secret.

  He hastened off dangerous ground. “They always seemed like such outsiders, but the Pattons are one of the Founding Families.”

  Mr. McLaren made it clear he was wrong in assuming no one else suspected the violence. “Sorry situation, that. Nowadays I guess folks would realize that Vernon was abusing his family, but back then…all anyone knew was that the Patton men were mean bastards, cheats and swindlers. Hard feelings between them and the Gallaghers. You know that—Tank was never a friend to you boys.”

  “True.”

  Someone grabbed his arm. He swung around.

  Ian grinned and drew forward the petite dark-haired beauty he’d married. “Scarlett, this is the Wizard of Sweetgrass, smartest guy I ever knew and our very own homegrown rebel—more’s the pity you’re related to him.”

  “I’m delighted to meet you.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “You’ve made Nana very happy. Thank you for coming.”

  When she stepped back, Ian’s arm went around her waist to stake claim.

  Jackson couldn’t help a grin. “You sure you want to be hitched to Cowboy Bob here?” He shifted his glance to Ian. “You’ve come up in the world if you can snag this beauty.”

  Ian waggled his eyebrows and wrapped his other arm around her. “Tell me about it.”

  Penny and Rissa approached. “She’s not too bad—for a city girl,” Rissa said.

  “Please, not so gooey, Cousin Crankypants. It’s embarrassing how much she adores me,” Scarlett said to Jackson.

  He had to chuckle. “So when do I get to meet the birthday boy?”

  “Right now,” his younger sister said, slipping her arm through his.

  “Good to see you again, Mr. McLaren.”

  “Call me Gordon. We’re all grown men now. Glad you’re back, son.”

  “Thanks.” He couldn’t resist a flick of his glance toward the woman he’d been watching. “I doubt it’s the prevailing opinion.”

  “Water under the bridge, Jackson. It was an accident, that’s all. The real crime is what happened after. You are welcome in this town, and don’t you ever doubt it.”

  Jackson’s throat tightened. “I appreciate that, Mr. McLaren.”

  “Don’t be a stranger. You know your way to the ranch.”

  “I do.” Penny clasped his other arm, and Jackson nodded at Scarlett. �
�Hope to get some time to know you better. I’d like to see what you’ve done over there.” He nodded toward the courthouse.

  “Oh, now you’ve done it,” Rissa said. “She’ll have you stripping woodwork or God knows. Run while you can.”

  Scarlett laughed and blew Rissa a kiss. “See? I told you—embarrassing, that much devotion. But thank you—you can claim a tour anytime, cousin.”

  “Cousin,” Penny said as they walked away. “You have a family, Jackson.”

  “It’s hard to wrap my mind around the notion,” he admitted.

  His cell phone buzzed its text tone. He flicked a glance at the display. Tyler Grant, the public face of Enigma and a trusted friend who’d helped him build the company, using their emergency code. He frowned. “I have to take this.” No way he could hear with all the excited chatter roaring. He scanned for the back door. “I’ll be with you in just a minute.”

  Chapter Five

  On the way outside, a stocky form stepped in his path. “What the hell are you doing back?” Tank Patton growled.

  Jackson took in the badge and the service weapon on Tank’s hip. The world had definitely upended if the biggest bully in Sweetgrass was in law enforcement.

  “I came back for Aunt Ruby.”

  Tank squinted, menace rolling off him in waves. “Ruby? Not—” His gaze flicked across the room toward where Veronica was standing.

  Tank, beefier and outweighing Jackson by thirty pounds or more, if not as tall, had been much more adept at violence back then. He’d left Jackson on the ground with threats of what he’d do if Jackson ever came near Veronica again.

  But Jackson was bigger now and had martial arts training. He also topped Tank by four inches or more. “What I do is none of your business.”

  “You leave my sister alone, you hear me?”

  “Or?” Jackson lifted one brow. Tank didn’t need to know that there was nothing between them. “Your father’s dead now. And I’m not afraid of you.”

  “You see this badge?” Tank jabbed a finger. “I can make your life hell.”