Texas Rebel

by Jean Brashear

  But what would their mother think? “Tell you what, Princess Beth, you go ask your mom first, okay? She might not have enough.”

  “She has lots,” Abby crowed. “I saw them before school. Mommy makes the best cookies ever.”

  “Still, it would be rude of me to just barge in. Go ask, please, and don’t press her. You probably have homework and stuff.”

  A deep sigh from Abby. “We always have homework.”

  Ben snorted. “First grade homework.” But when Abby’s lower lip quivered, he recanted. “Homework is important.”

  Jackson glanced at the boy’s bulging backpack and lifted his eyebrows. “Ben’s right. Homework is important at every grade. I wouldn’t own my own game company if I hadn’t learned so much math. Do you like math?”

  Abby shook her head vehemently. Beth shrugged.

  “I’m awesome at math,” Ben said.

  “Really? Your mom was decent at it, but your dad struggled with it. He was a smart guy, though. He just didn’t like math the way I did.”

  “Yeah, they called you the Wiz. I heard. ’Cause you were a wizard at math and all kinds of stuff.”

  “I did okay.” He noticed the girls were still hanging around. “How about you go ask your mom while Ben and I finish unloading?”

  “Okay, Prince.” Abby hopped down, then helped her sister. They took off running. “Mommmmyyy! Can Prince stay for snack?”

  Jackson chuckled. “I was sort of thinking they’d just ask your mom, not all of Sweetgrass.”

  Ben shook his head. “Abby is…unique. Mom says Beth doesn’t talk much because she could never get a word in edgewise.”

  They carried another load into the cooler. On the way back to the van, Ben glanced over. “How come you never came back to Sweetgrass?” He blushed. “I know it’s not polite to ask, but everyone’s wondering.”

  Jackson stared off into the distance, then made himself meet the boy’s gaze. “You know about the accident that killed your dad’s sister? The one Beth is named for?”

  “Not much.”

  “It was my fault.” Saying that never got any easier. “I was out of control back then, except for—” Your mom, he started to say, but he doubted Veronica had ever told anyone either. “My mom died during my senior year, and my dad wasn’t like yours—bet your dad was really great, right?”

  Ben nodded. “He was awesome.”

  “I figured.” Jackson sighed. “It’s no excuse, but my dad hated that I was smart and was angry that I didn’t want to grow up to run the ranch. He wasn’t impressed that I coded my first game when I was ten, or that I made straight A’s without studying. None of that matters on a ranch, and I was his only son, so I was supposed to carry on the legacy.” He glanced over. “This can’t possibly be interesting.”

  “That you coded your first game when you were ten? Are you kidding? That’s awesome! Doom Star is my favorite game, and I can’t believe I’m standing here with the guy who wrote it.”

  “I don’t write so much anymore. One person could never create games that massive alone.”

  “So you, like, just tell people what to do?”

  Jackson chuckled. “Yeah, sort of. Sometimes they even listen. Game designers are, well…a different breed, to say the least.”

  “I tried to write a game once,” Ben said softly. “That is, I took a part of a game and created a side story from it.”

  “Seriously?” Jackson studied him. “What did you do with it?”

  “Nothing.” The boy shifted uncomfortably.

  “That’s how I got my start in the business, well, sort of.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I—” He wasn’t sure Veronica would want his whole gory past exposed, especially that he’d lived on the streets and hitchhiked to Seattle. “I volunteered to beta test a new game for Lucky Seven.”

  “The ones who make Deadline: Armageddon?”

  “That’s them. And then I created an offshoot world, and I got some of the other testers playing it. I put it online for people to play for free, and word kinda spread. Next thing I knew, I was in the office of the director of that game, Alien Raiders, and he wanted to talk about my work.”

  “Were they mad?”

  “No. That’s actually how some game designers get started in the business. There are college programs in that subject now—a good one at SMU in Dallas—but nothing like that existed when I started.”

  The last buckets were stored, and Jackson watched Ben close up the cooler.

  “So how did you—”

  “You can come, Prince! Mommy says it’s okay!” Abby charged up, grabbing one hand and Beth the other, and they started towing Jackson toward the house.

  He looked back at Ben, who snagged his backpack and slung it over his shoulder, grinning while he shook his head. “Might as well go along. Abby doesn’t take no for an answer easily.”

  The small hands in his felt odd but…nice. And Ben was a fascinating kid. He’d like to think he might have had a boy like that himself one day, if life had been different.

  All of this was odd. He was a fish out of water.

  But the water was feeling really nice for the moment, so in a rare instance of submitting to fate rather than how he’d always fought to control it, Jackson exhaled some of the tension that was always with him. Went with the flow and accompanied Veronica’s children into the house she’d shared with the friend who had made a life with her in Jackson’s place.

  Chapter Six

  She had more work to do, much more, before her day was done.

  Yet she couldn’t just walk away and leave Jackson with her children. On an ordinary day, Ben would be in charge if he were home, or if he was still at school, she would supervise the girls and their little dab of homework while she cooked or cleaned or sewed.

  Instead she had to be a hostess. Had to remain polite.

  Even as her skin was itching with the need to get away.

  Jackson sat at the table, unconsciously taking David’s chair—or was it unconscious? Jackson was a very smart man, brilliant, even. Once she’d believed she understood how he thought, but now…she had no idea what he was thinking, or why he did what he did. Why he’d done…anything.

  “This is like it was with my mom,” Jackson said to her, his voice filled with wonder.

  “That’s a nice thing to say.” Very nice. She’d had few opportunities to be around his mother, since her father kept her on a tight leash. Only what anyone would have, seeing Mary Gallagher about town with her children.

  But everyone knew what an amazing mother Jackson had had.

  She had witnessed the depths of his grief when he’d lost the only parent who understood him, who backed him all the way and fought to give him options, who respected his astonishing talents, his brilliant intellect.

  He had broken down and cried with her once after his mother’s passing, but only that once. Most of the time, he seethed with fury over how his father had turned his back on Jackson’s sisters and ratcheted up the pressure even higher on Jackson himself.

  Now that she’d lost David, she thought she might understand James Gallagher a little better. When you lost the other half of you, nothing made sense. Every day was a struggle.

  And she’d been through the experience twice.

  “It’s true,” Jackson responded, bringing her out of her thoughts. He glanced around. “And what you’ve done with this place…” He shook his head. “It was fine when David’s parents lived here, but you’ve, I don’t know, brightened it, I guess.”

  Brightened. Maybe once, but over the past year, all she’d been able to see was gloom. “I guess.”

  “But where are your paintings?”

  “She painted a little when I was young,” Ben offered. “But not in a long time. How come, Mom?”

  Some days she ached for a brush in her hand. Longed for that escape.

  Life was very real now. “Too much to do,” she only remarked.

  “Ben plays your game
,” Abby said to Jackson. “A lot. Even sometimes when he’s not supposed to.”

  Ben stiffened. Beth looked worried.

  “I’ll take that as a compliment,” Jackson said with a glance at her. “But I’m sure Ben knows homework and chores come first.”

  “I do,” Ben grumbled.

  Jackson’s eyes smiled at her. “Should I apologize?”

  Oh, that smile… It had once been her sun.

  “I’m sure Benjamin is aware of the need for self-discipline.”

  “Did you know he wrote his first game when he was ten, Mom?”

  She did…but should she acknowledge it?

  Jackson seemed to be content to let her choose how to answer.

  “That’s impressive” was the safest response, she thought.

  “You gonna let me see the subroutine you created?” Jackson asked Ben.

  Ben shrugged, but she could see the hope in his face. “It’s not that good.”

  “Why don’t you let me be the judge of that? Wait.” He looked at her. “You have a routine. I’m screwing up your schedule, I bet.”

  Routine had flown out the door the second he drove up.

  Before she could answer, Jackson rose. “I do want to see it, Ben, but we have to honor your responsibilities. Maybe we’d better wait until another time. I want to help your mom some more, since I’m guessing I’ve thrown her schedule off, too. Can we work out something later?”

  She ached to see the disappointment in Ben’s frame, but it was true that school nights left little free time.

  And she wasn’t eager for Jackson to see similarities between them. If he didn’t disappear again, maybe she’d tell him. First she had to be certain Jackson wouldn’t abandon his child the way he’d abandoned her.

  “Maybe after supper,” Abby suggested. “Can he stay for supper, Mommy?”

  “How about I buy dinner for all of us at Ruby’s instead?”

  “Yes!” cried Abby. Beth’s face lit.

  But she didn’t want Jackson and Ben appearing together in public. Someone might notice the resemblance that was becoming more marked by the minute. How had she not realized it before now?

  “We were at the cafe last night, and honestly, though not having to cook is lovely, it’s really easier to stay here on a school night. They can be doing homework and chores while I cook.”

  “I don’t want to impose.”

  “You won’t. You can help cook.”

  “Deal.” That smile was a killer.

  The dinner wasn’t fancy, but Jackson seemed to enjoy it and praised her cooking probably more than it deserved.

  “Just simple farm food,” she demurred.

  “I can’t remember a meal I’ve enjoyed more.” His blue eyes locked on hers, and inside she shivered with a thrill she couldn’t afford.

  “I’m glad. Kids—” She rose, and they all carried their plates to the counter beside the sink.

  “Thank you, Mommy,” Beth said, hugging her waist.

  Veronica smoothed back her hair. “You can play until bath time.”

  “I want Prince to play,” Abby insisted.

  “Sorry, kiddo. He who doesn’t cook, cleans,” he said. “Why don’t you take your mom into the living room so she can put her feet up after a long day?”

  That got her back up. “I can take care of my own kitchen.”

  His phone warbled a text tone.

  He glanced at the display and grimaced. “I’m sorry. I have to return this call. Don’t touch the dishes.” He strode to his vehicle and pulled a different phone from inside. As he talked, she noticed how he had returned to the powerful, commanding man, the one who held himself apart.

  Watching him was a reminder that he was no longer that boy she’d loved. He was a man with an empire, one whose world was so much broader than her own.

  The text had been from a blogger for whom Jackson had once done a favor. The man had said he owed Jackson, and he’d decided now was the time to repay it.

  Jackson hadn’t wanted to interrupt the time at Veronica’s, but perhaps the timing was propitious. He couldn’t afford to get involved. Especially now, after what he’d learned earlier from Ty. He needed to talk to Ty about the blogger’s disturbing message.

  Don’t be too trusting. You have a leak.

  The blogger didn’t know who, didn’t have any more information, and relying on so little evidence wasn’t Jackson’s style.

  But the potential consequences were too damaging to discard this clue. Leaks happened, but this one was malicious, and the stakes this time were very, very high.

  Jackson clicked off the sat phone and stared into the night. He had been headed back to Seattle when he’d stopped here. This information only made him itchier to be at command central. He’d postponed the departure once already today.

  He wheeled to return to the house. He couldn’t stay to read to the girls or play a game—he would clean the kitchen, then he had to get to his plane.

  His toe hit a stepping stone sticking out of the ground, and he was yanked from his thoughts. Took a look around him.

  The signs of neglect were everywhere. She was trying so damn hard to keep up, but one woman couldn’t do it. Not even one man, but for sure not the sylph who was in that house, surrounded by her children. He might not want to run a ranch, but he’d grown up on one. Even a clueless kid could see that operating a successful one required endless hours and many hands—one reason why the pioneers had so many children, in addition to high levels of infant mortality.

  His ancestors… For the first time in many years, Jackson was cognizant of the bonds of blood that tied him to this valley, to the land and the rocks, the hills and the water.

  He’d forgotten what it felt like to belong somewhere.

  The company needs your full attention.

  But as he peered into the windows, watched the family gathered in the golden lamplight—and yes, cleaning the kitchen without him, no matter what he’d said—their bond was evident in every gesture, every word. It couldn’t be more clear that the two forces pulling on him were very different.

  He’d forgotten this life—the comfort of simple human touch, the delight of a child’s innocence…the scents of earth and the majesty of the sky.

  He felt a clutch in his chest, realizing that for all his wealth, all his influence…he had nothing that could compare. Nothing warm and simple and…sweet.

  But he still had people depending upon the living his company made possible. Whatever fanciful notions he might entertain, his life wasn’t here, and he didn’t even want it to be.

  Just then Veronica and her children began laughing at something Abby was saying.

  Jackson smiled. That Abby would be fun to watch grow up. She was a corker.

  Abruptly he sobered. He wouldn’t see that, Abby’s growing up. Or whether Veronica succeeded or failed. Failure would hurt her. She’d always wanted to excel—needed to. She was smart and bright and beautiful…yet her light was guttering out like a spent candle.

  He couldn’t stay.

  But he could help her out. He could offer the money for whatever would make her life easier, give her time to play with her children instead of working herself into the ground.

  Feeling better about that prospect, he opened the door and strode inside. “I’m sorry—and you should have left the cleanup for me.”

  “Everything okay?”

  “Not really. Problems with the new game rollout. I have to go back.”

  Whatever disappointment he thought he saw was quickly masked. “Of course. You’re a busy man.”

  “So can you play one game before you go?” Ben asked.

  “I really—I’ve instructed my pilot to be ready early in the morning, and I have to drive to Austin.”

  Ben’s disappointment fled. “You have your own plane?”

  “I do. I can even fly it.”

  “Whoa! Mom, did you hear that? That is so chill!”

  “But could you read our bedtime story befor
e you go?” Abby asked. “Please?”

  He debated with himself, but in the end, the children won. He flicked his gaze to Veronica. “I would be happy to, right after I cream your brother in Doom Star.”

  Ben’s face lit, and he rubbed his hands together. “You think so.” Challenge fired in his gaze. “I’m very good.”

  “We’ll see.” Jackson remembered what it was like to be a boy wanting to prove himself. “And maybe your mom can sit down and take it easy while we’re doing that.”

  Startled, Veronica wasn’t slow with a comeback. “I have hours of work left, but thanks anyway.”

  He frowned. “You need more help.”

  “And you would know that how?” Her tone went to frost. “I don’t think a computer wizard knows much about running a ranch, much less a flower farm. I’ll be just fine.” She turned away. “Girls, it’s bath time.”

  “Aww…” moaned Abby.

  One brow arched. “It’s not up for discussion, young lady. Tomorrow is a school day.”

  Beth came to his side and clasped his hand, big chocolate brown eyes looking upward. “I wish you could come over after school tomorrow.”

  “I’m sorry. I have to go back to work in Seattle.” He couldn’t stand the disappointment he saw, so he crouched before her. “I’ll come back to visit as soon as I can, okay?” Why was he promising that? He was almost sorry he’d come in the first place. The tugs on his heart were…wearing.

  He didn’t do heart. But this beautiful little girl, so sweet and shy, was looking at him as if he were the prince they called him, and he didn’t know how to walk away from her.

  Maybe she’d forget once he was gone.

  Then Abby’s arm stole around his shoulders. “You have to come back, Prince,” she whispered in his ear. “Mama’s too sad by herself.”

  Oh, no. No, no, no.

  Yet his heart stuttered a bit. He cast a glance upward, but saw no welcome in Veronica.

  He rose, desperate to extract himself from all this emotion. “Come get me when you’re ready for that story.” However much he didn’t want to get more involved, these were innocent children. “I’ll be busy thumping your brother.”