The Texan's Secret

by Linda Warren

  What did he say?

  Southern Cross?

  She tried to sit up, winced and lay back as pain ripped through her head. “What happened?”

  “You were in an accident, sugar,” the woman said.

  “You ran your car off the road into Crooked Creek,” the cowboy added.

  Bits and pieces fitted together in Shay’s head like one of Darcy’s puzzles. “A silver truck was headed straight for me. I tried…”

  “That was me, and I was on my side of the road.” His voice was deep and commanding, with a Texas accent much like Matthew McConaughey’s, but delivered with an edge of censure. That rankled, even if the sound set off unexpected waves of pleasure.

  Shay narrowed her eyes, then winced. “You ran me onto the shoulder.”

  “You did that all by yourself.”

  “Now let’s don’t quibble.” The woman intervened, as if used to dealing with cantankerous children. “I’m Renee Calhoun and this is Chance Hardin, the foreman of Southern Cross.”

  Renee Calhoun.

  Chance Hardin.

  Oh, no! This just wasn’t her day. The names settled in Shay’s stomach like sour milk. Now what should she do?

  The woman who had broken up her parents’ marriage was a couple of feet away. Shay squinted at her. She seemed perfectly normal, dressed in a cream linen blouse and pants. Her dyed blonde hair hung like a bell around an attractive face. From her mother’s description, Shay had expected Renee to have horns and a tail, next-of-kin to the devil.

  Maybe this was good luck, Shay thought. She had a foot inside the house, and soon, when she’d regained her equilibrium, she’d tell this hellish woman a thing or two.

  The cowboy looked down at her with those dark, dark eyes and she resisted the urge to wriggle. What was he thinking? It was hard to tell, since the blackness of his eyes seemed to block out his emotions as if he were wearing sunglasses. Did he know who she was? Of course not. Shay was getting paranoid. She couldn’t think about Chance Hardin.

  She looked around the room. Cathedral ceilings with wagon wheel chandeliers met her gaze. The walls were a rich mahogany done in a picture-framing style. Photos of Judd Calhoun, his wife and twin sons took pride of place. A huge stone fireplace covered one wall and was adorned with a rustic Texas star. A wedding photo of Renee and Jack Calhoun graced the intricately carved wood mantel.

  Shay stared at the man—her father—and felt no emotion other than anger. How could she? She’d never known him. He’d kicked her mother out when he’d met Renee, his first wife, and wanted to remarry her. He didn’t even care that Blanche was pregnant.

  For so many years Shay had dreamed of being here, inside Southern Cross, to get a glimpse of where she should have been raised. But oddly, and fittingly, she felt out of place. This wasn’t Huckleberry Lane, where she lived with her mother and Darcy.

  Thoughts of the little girl filled her aching head. Darcy didn’t like being alone with Blanche, and Shay had to let her know she’d be back soon.

  “May I have my purse, please?”

  Renee and Chance exchanged a glance.

  “It was in your car,” the cowboy said.

  “I know. I need to make a call.”

  “You don’t remember?”

  “What?” Why was he talking as if she were five years old?

  “After I pulled you out, the Chevy sank into Crooked Creek. I’m sure everything in your purse is ruined.”

  Oh, no! She’d just paid off her car loan and now the vehicle was gone. A wave of regret washed over her. She should never have let Blanche talk her into this. Jack Calhoun was dead and nothing could change the past. Shay had to get out of here and fast.

  “What’s your name, sugar?” Renee asked in a kind, soothing voice. Shay hated that.

  Spit fire or something. Please don’t be nice. She caught the cowboy’s eyes. Chance Hardin’s concerned gaze was doing a number on her resolve. And her conscience.

  “Shay,” she replied, her voice low.

  “How pretty.” Renee patted her arm again. “For a pretty young lady.”

  For some reason tears stung the back of her eyes. Her mother had never called her pretty or ever paid her a compliment. The gesture coming from Renee Calhoun was almost too much, on top of everything else that happened on this horrendous day.

  “Thank you,” she managed to answer, before the sound of a siren startled her. “What’s that?”

  “An ambulance. You need medical attention. I’ll open the front door.”

  Renee walked away and Shay stared at Chance. She didn’t have any choice but to enlist his help—a Hardin’s help. Why did he have to be here?

  “Please, I’m fine. I don’t need an ambulance.”

  “You probably have a concussion.”

  She forced herself to sit up.

  He practically leaped to her side. “Whoa. You shouldn’t have done that.”

  She frowned, which made her head hurt that much more. “What?”

  “You shouldn’t have sat up until the paramedics arrived.”

  “I’m fine, really.” Brushing her hair from her face, she wondered what had happened to her hair clip. And she realized for the first time that she was wet. Damn! Chance must have saved her life. Just what she needed—more guilt. Forcing negative thoughts aside, she appealed to him. “I don’t have health insurance and I can’t afford an ambulance or a hospital bill.”

  The candor in her voice got to Chance—and the fear. What was she afraid of?

  “I’m sure you can make payment arrangements.”

  She laughed, a sound like a frightened child’s. “I don’t have any extra money and…” Her voice trailed off as two paramedics wheeled in a stretcher.

  One medic checked Shay’s pulse and blood pressure, then took her temperature. Next he removed Renee’s bandage and studied the cut. “Doesn’t look bad,” he said as he applied ointment and another bandage.

  “I’m fine,” Shay insisted.

  The man shone a small penlight into her eyes and asked her to follow his finger.

  While the paramedic continue to examine her, Chance moved away to speak to Renee. “She doesn’t have health insurance and doesn’t want to go to the hospital.”

  “Well, hell, I’ll pay the bill,” the older woman offered. “She needs help.”

  Shay overheard her and axed that idea immediately. “No. No. You’re not paying the bill. I’m fine. I’m not going to a hospital.”

  Renee pulled Chance farther aside and whispered, “What do you have in mind?”

  “Can she stay here tonight? I’ll get her a rental car first thing in the morning.”

  “If the paramedics say she’s okay, I don’t see why not.”

  The attendant stepped back with his hands on his hips. “It would be best to go to the hospital and get checked out.”

  “I’m fine, really,” Shay replied again in that nervous tone.

  “What do you think?” Chance asked the man.

  “She can focus and her eyes are clear, so I suppose if she refuses to go we can’t make her. But if she grows dizzy or passes out, you need to get her to a hospital.”

  “We will,” he promised.

  The medic looked at Shay. “Stay awake for a while and see your doctor as soon as possible.”

  “Okay.”

  As the ambulance left, Renee said, “Well, it looks as if I have a houseguest. Just give me a few minutes and I’ll get you some dry clothes.” She hurried away, her shoes tapping on the hardwood floor.

  Shay glanced at Chance, her eyes huge in her pale face. “Thank you.”

  She managed to look coy, inviting and desperate all at the same time. His heart knocked against his ribs like a bronc about to be broken. “You’re welcome.” He swallowed hard, this unexpected attraction hitting him like a sucker punch. His next words came out terse. “What’s your last name? And your auto insurance company?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I’ll make some calls for you so I c
an get you a rental in the morning. But I need information.”

  She seemed to hesitate. “Stevens,” she finally answered. “But I’ll call my insurance company.”

  Fear still tinged her voice, and Chance knew something wasn’t quite right. “Fine. You can use the phone in your bedroom.”

  “Okay, but I really need to go home.”

  A reasonable request. Maybe he was making something out of nothing. “You said you wanted to call someone?”

  Shay chewed on a fingernail. “Yes. I’ll use the phone in the bedroom to check on my mother. She’s dying of lung cancer and a cousin takes care of her when I’m not there.”

  Chance was taken aback at the turmoil in the young woman’s life, and against his better judgment he could feel himself being pulled into her problems. Before he could form a response, the doorbell rang.

  He handed her his cell. “Call your mother. I’ll make sure you get home tomorrow.”

  “Thank you,” Shay replied, quickly punching in a number as he walked to the door.

  Walker stood on the threshold. “Is the woman okay?”

  Chance stepped out onto the veranda. “She’s a little shaken up and refuses to go to the E.R.”

  “The volunteer fire department is now at the site. Henry finally got the truck running. Since the rain is letting up, a wrecker is also there to pull the car out. I’m pretty sure it’s totaled.” The constable pulled his Stetson low to keep the wind from taking it, and glanced over Chance’s wet appearance. “Sorry you had to deal with that.”

  Everyone knew of his parents’ deaths. It had happened on the same county road, closer to Giddings. Though only twelve, Chance had worked valiantly to get his parents out—but they were already dead.

  “I’ve developed Teflon feelings,” he joked.

  “Yeah, right.” Clearly, Walker didn’t believe him for a minute. “You get any information from her?”

  “She said her name is Shay Stevens.”

  Walker frowned. “That’s strange. The license plate must not have been secured properly, because I found it in the grass. I ran a check with the Department of Public Safety just in case she was still unconscious, and it’s registered to Shay Dumont from Houston.”

  “Hmm.” Chance rubbed his jaw in thought. That name ran a bell, but he couldn’t place it. That niggling feeling returned. The lady wasn’t who she said she was. He felt a moment of regret. He was beginning to like her. Now he had some questions was determined to get answers—one way or another.

  Who was she?

  And what did she want in High Cotton, Texas?

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHANCE WENT UPSTAIRS to talk to Shay, but Renee was hovering around and he didn’t get an opportunity. He didn’t want Renee to think something was wrong, so he headed out the door for dry clothes and boots.

  “Thank you for pulling me out of the car,” Shay said in a rush before he left. “Your cell is downstairs.”

  “Thanks.” He turned to look at her. She sat on the side of the bed in a white fluffy robe of Renee’s. Nervousness, shock and fear flitted across her pretty face. What was causing her such anguish? He didn’t have time to figure it out. He had to get into dry clothes and check on the cowboys. Work awaited him and he had to go. Who are you? He planned to find out later when Renee wasn’t around.

  Renee followed him to the kitchen. “I think I’ll fix her a bite to eat.”

  “Missing the kids, huh?”

  “You bet. I can’t wait for the twins to come home.”

  Chance thought for a moment and asked, “Do you mind if I spend the night in the house? I’m a little leery of you being alone with a stranger.” He had a room at the bunkhouse, but that niggling feeling wouldn’t go away. He had brought the woman here and he had to make sure Renee was safe.

  “What do you think?” Renee whispered. “That she’s going to murder me in my bed?”

  He shrugged. “I just have a strange feeling. That’s all.”

  “Then by all means, sleep in the house.”

  “Thanks. I’ll be back later.”

  When he returned the woman was asleep in a guest room. Should she be sleeping? It had been almost two hours since the medics left, so he supposed it was okay. The light was on and she was curled up in bed with a wistful expression on her face, blonde hair all around her. She was probably the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Why did they have to meet under these circumstances? This stranger was hiding something and he had to be on guard.

  Walker dropped by later to talk to Shay about the accident. Chance told him she was asleep, and the constable said he’d come back in the morning. The car had been towed into Giddings, he reported, and he’d brought the sodden remains of Shay’s purse. Since it had been filled with muddy water, Walker had done his best to dry it out, but everything was ruined. The only thing legible on her diver’s license was her name— Shay Dumont.

  Where had he heard that name before? Chance went to bed with it rattling around in his head, and again he vowed to get answers.

  At six he woke up, slipped into his jeans and a T-shirt and headed downstairs to make coffee. Since the Calhouns were gone, the housekeeper was on vacation, too. His plan was to carry a cup to the woman and talk.

  As he finished making the coffee, the phone rang. He grabbed the wall phone before it woke up everyone. Renee was not an early riser.

  “You ordered a rental?”

  “Yes.”

  “I have to deliver it early because I’m the only one working the lot today.”

  “Okay. What time?”

  “I’m here now.”

  “Oh. I’ll be right out.” Chance marched to the door and opened it. A middle-aged man stood there with a clipboard, which he held out to Chance, who scribbled his name. “This was fast,” he commented.

  “Ms. Dumont’s insurance agent called late yesterday. He’d gotten photos from the wrecker service via the internet and it was a done deal. The car will be scrapped.” The man handed over a receipt and the keys. About that time an older truck with loud exhaust pipes pulled in.

  “That’s my son. Gotta go.”

  “Thanks,” Chance called to the man’s retreating back.

  He hurried into the kitchen for coffee. Placing the keys and receipt on the granite kitchen island, he poured a cup. After taking a sip he decided he’d better put on his boots and shirt before talking to the woman.

  Swinging around, he came to a halt. Shay was standing in the doorway, fully dressed in the clothes she’d worn yesterday, the bandage still on her forehead. Her long hair glistened in the kitchen light.

  He swallowed. “How are you?” he managed to ask her.

  “Fine.” She held out her arms. “Renee washed and dried my clothes. Wasn’t that nice?”

  “Renee’s a nice lady.”

  Shay didn’t respond to that. Instead she waved a hand toward the coffeepot. “May I have some?”

  “Sure.” Her sudden appearance had made him forget his manners. He poured a cup and handed it to her. In the process he noticed that her fingernails were bitten down to the quick. Obviously she was a very nervous person.

  She took a tentative sip. “Do you live here?”

  She was fishing for information, and Chance was willing to give her only so much. But it was hard to stick to that resolve with her green eyes so inviting.

  “No. My gig’s at the bunkhouse, but I stayed in the house last night to make sure…you were okay.”

  “That’s so sweet.” She touched his bare arm and tiny sizzles of pleasure radiated through him. “Oh.” She spotted the keys and receipt on the island. “They brought my rental?”

  “Yes. It’s outside.”

  “That was quick.” Setting her cup down, she slipped the keys into the front pocket of her jeans, folded the receipt and stuffed it into her back pocket.

  He watched her every movement and thought how graceful and beautiful she was. The knit top outlined her breasts and the tight jeans emphasized her slim curv
es. He cleared his throat. “Walker, the constable, brought your purse and phone from your car.” He pointed. “They’re in that plastic bag on the floor.”

  “Oh.” She knelt and examined the contents. “Good grief, everything’s covered in mud.”

  “I’m afraid it’s pretty much ruined.”

  “Yeah,” she murmured, removing her driver’s license, a credit card and some cash. She stuffed them into her other pocket and stood, wiping her hands on her jeans. “Do you mind throwing the rest away?”

  “No problem.”

  Silence followed as they faced each other. Chance could feel the tension building in the room. He had to admit he was attracted to her, and he wished he’d dressed before coming down. The situation was a little too intimate. But the doubts kept his emotions in check.

  She glanced around the kitchen. “I’d like to thank whoever lives in this big house.”

  And the doubts doubled. She wanted information.

  “Renee’s son and his family live here.”

  “I’d like to thank them.”

  The tension tripled. “There’s no need.”

  She was about to persist when his phone buzzed. He reached for it in his pocket and saw the caller ID. “I’m sorry, but I have to take this.”

  “I’ll just…go up and thank Renee.” Shay picked up her cup.

  “Walker, the constable, is coming by to talk to you this morning,” Chance called as she left.

  “Okay.”

  He clicked on his phone. “What is it, Monty?” Monty was one of the cowboys on the ranch.

  “Where are you? You didn’t sleep in the bunkhouse last night.”

  “Did the boys fix the fence at Crooked Creek?” Chance countered with a question of his own.

  “Yep. All done.”

  “Get them to check all the fences to make sure no limbs fell on them in the rainstorm.”

  “Will do. Where are you? Are you still dealing with that wreck?”