The Texan's Secret

by Linda Warren

“What?” He sat up straight.

  The fallout was here, and she should run for cover, for shelter. But she could do nothing but accept the inevitable.

  “I told you from the start that I couldn’t get involved. It’s too complicated. I have a kid…”

  Chance stiffened. “That’s bull. Tell me what’s really wrong.”

  She swallowed the wad of cowardice in her throat and forced the words out. “I don’t love you.” They tasted bitter on her tongue and she had the urge to throw up.

  He stared at her, and even though she couldn’t see his eyes clearly, she knew he was stunned, angry even.

  “So…these past few weeks…what has that been about? Was it just sex for you?”

  Her throat locked in pain and she couldn’t speak. How did she explain? With the truth, maybe? But it was buried so deep she couldn’t bring it up.

  “Was it?” he demanded.

  “Yes,” she lied, and felt the ache of that lie sear through her.

  Tense silence ate up time.

  “You’re lying,” he finally said. “It was more than sex. You know that. I know that.”

  “Chance.” She stood and stepped away from him. His pain was a tangible thing she could feel. “My mother dated a lot of men and used them to get what she wanted. She never loved them. I don’t want to be like her.”

  He jammed a hand through his hair and buttoned his shirt. “You’re not like that.”

  The words were in her throat and she had to say them again. “I don’t love you.” She hated hurting him like this. Ending it now was best for both of them, though. She should never have gone on that first date. Even so, she should have had enough sense to end it long ago, but she’d selfishly hung on to him, knowing full well there was no future.

  He reached for his hat on the coffee table. “I don’t know what’s going on here but…”

  “Please. I want you to leave.”

  “Does love scare you that much?” he asked, and she knew he wasn’t giving up easily.

  “Chance…I…”

  “Okay.” The entreaty in her voice must have gotten to him. “If you want me to go, I will, but I know something’s not right. Maybe one day you’ll have the courage to tell me what that is.” Swinging around, he headed for the door.

  “Chance.”

  The door slammed shut and then she heard the squeal of tires on the pavement. He was gone—for good this time. Her stomach cramped and she wrapped her arms around her waist. Why did she have to fall in love with the one man she couldn’t have? When he found out the truth, he would hate her. But all the pain he was experiencing now would vanish, and he would be glad he wasn’t involved with her.

  She sank to the floor, pulled up her knees and buried her face on them. Don’t break Chance’s heart. Renee’s words came back to her like a dart through her heart. But it wasn’t over yet. There was still more pain to come.

  “I love you, Chance,” Shay murmured, bracing herself for a future without him.

  CHANCE DROVE AND DROVE, unable to go home to a lonely apartment. But no matter how far he traveled he couldn’t outrun her words. I don’t love you. Had he misread the signs? Was the relationship all on his side? He didn’t think so, though that just might be his ego talking. Rejection burned like a rope across his skin.

  In a matter of a few minutes his world had shattered, much as it had twenty-two years ago. He’d survived that, and would survive this. He wished he understood why, though.

  He’d called a Realtor and told her what he was looking for—a big house with acreage. He wanted to have horses, so Darcy could learn to ride, and he wanted to get them out of that crappy neighborhood. His whole world centered around Shay and Darcy. He couldn’t wait to get off work to be with them. They made him happy. They eased the pain of the past. And now…now it was over. A pain gripped his chest. Why?

  He looked up and realized he was on the Katy Freeway going nowhere. Turning the truck around, he headed back to Houston and his apartment.

  But he still didn’t understand why.

  CHANCE PLANNED TO WORK nonstop. At least Cadde would be happy. That was the only way to put the pain behind him. He was in his office early, mapping out his route for the day. They had a rig in the repair shop and he had to check on that.

  Kid breezed in. “Hey, you working today? It’s Sunday.”

  “Yep. I’m working.”

  Kid sat on the edge of Chance’s desk. “Why aren’t you with the girlfriend?”

  “We broke up.” Chance looked at his brother. “Or more to the point, she broke up with me. Evidently she’s not into a serious relationship.”

  “You’re kidding. Every woman I’ve ever dated has wanted the ring, marriage and babies—the whole chain-around-the-neck thing.”

  “Shay’s not like that,” he said quickly, and then caught himself. He didn’t really know her, so he couldn’t say. He knew her body, though, every soft curve, every sensitive spot that made her moan, and her Try Me button was—

  “Mind if I call her?” Kid flopped into a chair. “Sounds like the perfect woman.”

  “Yes, I mind if you call her,” Chance replied, his voice heavy with umbrage. “Leave Shay alone.”

  “Damn.” Kid snapped his fingers. “Sounds as if you’re not over her.”

  He decided not to answer that. “What are you doing in the office this morning?”

  “Date last night didn’t go the way I’d planned, so I thought I’d get some work done.”

  “You wanted hot sex and she didn’t?”

  “Something like that.”

  Chance closed the folder he was writing in. “Are you ever going to grow up?”

  “Lordy, I hope not. Life’s too much fun this way.” Kid propped his boots on Chance’s desk.

  Chance just shook his head. “Well, I’m off to…” His cell phone beeped and he hurriedly picked it up, hoping it was Shay. It wasn’t.

  “Hey, Sam.” Sam was the tool pusher on Crocker Number One. “What’s up?’

  “We broke a pipe.”

  “Damn it. Start pulling the pipe out. I’m on my way.”

  “What happened?” Kid asked. Chance told him.

  “Man, Cadde’s going to be pissed.”

  “I know.” Chance picked up his hard hat. “I’m on my way to tell him, and then I’m heading to the well.”

  “I’ll change boots, grab my hard hat and go with you.”

  “Okay.” Chance headed down the hall. “Do you think Cadde’s in?”

  Kid laughed. “Hell, yeah.”

  “Son of a bitch,” Cadde muttered when he heard the news. “I’ll get my boots and hat and go with you. I want to see firsthand what’s going on.”

  “I can take care of it,” Chance said.

  “But three Hardins can take care of it faster.”

  Within minutes they were in the helicopter and headed for Crocker Number One. Chance landed the aircraft smoothly some distance from the well. Sam’s eyes opened wide when he saw all three brothers get off the chopper.

  “It’s all under control, sir.” Sam spoke to Cadde. “We’re trying to reach the broken pipe.”

  Chance looked up to see roughnecks busy on the platform, attaching chains and ropes to a pipe as a large hydraulic lift hoisted it up out of the well. A man high on the derrick looped a rope around it and roughnecks guided it to the pipe rack. They repeated the process as mud, grime and oil coated the drilling platform.

  “I’ll see for myself,” Cadde said, turning to Sam. “I need work gloves.” Sam immediately found three pairs. Slipping his on, Cadde headed for the platform. Chance and Kid exchanged glances and followed, shoving their own hands into gloves.

  “Going smoothly, sir,” Mick, the driller, shouted above the roar of the rig.

  Suddenly mud that kept the drilling process cool spewed up from the well, splattering everyone on the platform. No one winced or said a word. If you were a roughneck, you were used to the muck and grime of drilling.

  “I want
this well back on track,” Cadde said, as if nothing had happened.

  “Yes, sir. We’re doing our best.”

  Just then a loud bang cut through the noise of the rig. Chance looked up to see Brad, the derrick man, hanging in thin air. His safety harness held him in place.

  “Shut down the rig,” Cadde ordered. Chance knew how hard that was for him, but a man’s life was at stake.

  Several roughnecks shouted up to Brad, but he didn’t move.

  “Something’s wrong,” Cadde said. “I’m going up to see if I can attach his harness to a pulley line that will bring him down. Any other suggestions?”

  “I can climb the derrick,” Chance offered.

  Cadde ignored the suggestion. “You and Kid be ready to catch him when he slides down.”

  They watched as Cadde climbed the derrick. Once he reached the crow’s nest, as Brad’s position was called, he caught the safety cables that were attached to the derrick. Using them, he slowly pulled Brad toward him, and then reached for the pulley line the derrick man used every day to slide down after work.

  Evidently Brad was deadweight, because Cadde was having a hell of a time attaching his harness to the pulley. Finally he waved a hand. “He’s coming down,” he called on the Sunday morning breeze.

  Chance, Kid and four roughnecks hurried down the platform to catch Brad. He came down fast, but Chance made sure he landed smoothly, just as an ambulance roared onto the site.

  A paramedic quickly checked Brad, who was lying on the grass, lifeless.

  “I’m not getting a response,” he said. “Let’s get him to a hospital. Go, go, go!”

  Brad was pasty and pale, and Chance worried he was dead. Probably a heart attack, but he was so young—only twenty-four, with a young wife. This part of the oil business sucked. This part of life sucked.

  He heard a shout and turned to see Cadde slipping off the derrick into the ropes, chains and pulleys. His hard hat plummeted, bouncing off the platform moments later, as Cadde hung there like a broken kite. A chain held his right boot, and that was the only thing keeping him from tumbling to his death, headfirst.

  For a split second Chance couldn’t move.

  A scream shattered his shock. It was Kid. Roughnecks tried to hold him back from the derrick, but Kid broke free.

  Chance realized he was already on the derrick, climbing up to save his brother.

  Not another death in his family, he vowed, climbing higher.

  Not another death.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHANCE REACHED their brother first. “Cadde,” he called, but Cadde was unmoving. His right boot was being held by a rope, not a chain, he noted. His left foot lay against a pipe they had pulled out of the well.

  “Cadde,” Kid yelled in turn, and again there was not a flicker of response. After surveying the position of Cadde’s body, Kid looked up at Chance. “How do we get him out of here? We can’t use the pulley, ’cause he’s inside the derrick wall.” Kid glanced around. “Where’s the crane?”

  “It’s on another job.” Chance had already thought of that, but the crane was too far away. They needed to get Cadde down now as safely and quickly as possible.

  A warm June breeze cooled Chance’s sweaty body as he held on to the derrick. He viewed the situation again and knew they had to stabilize Cadde before he catapulted downward. At the moment that had to be their main goal. “I’m going to try to tie his legs together and secure him to the derrick.”

  “But…”

  “The rope could give at any minute, Kid. We don’t have many choices.”

  “Sir.”

  Chance looked down to see Woody, one of the roughnecks, with a rope over his shoulder. Two other roughnecks were there with ropes. He hadn’t even noticed them.

  Very carefully, he reached for Cadde’s left foot. If he missed…if he jarred it in any way…the pipe, ropes and chains could all crash downward. Holding his breath, he stretched as far as he could with his right arm and closed his hand on a fistful of denim. Once he had a good grip, Woody handed him the rope. Chance looped it around both legs with one hand, and was amazed to find he hadn’t forgotten a thing from his days of hog-tying steers.

  He secured Cadde to the derrick, then let out a long, agonizing breath. Now his brother would not tumble to his death. But they still had to get him down.

  “We have to secure his arms,” Chance shouted to Kid. Woody and Mick scurried to help, as did Chance. “Okay. Here’s what we do. I’m going to pull him in as close as I can. Woody and Mick, your jobs are to get his arms up so Kid can secure them to his chest. Ready?”

  “His head is bleeding,” Kid said. “We have to do this quickly.”

  “No,” Chance told him. “We have to do this carefully. Concentrate. Focus. Let’s do it.” He held on to the derrick with one hand and reached out with his other for his brother. The first attempt failed, and Chance swore under his breath as the Texas sun bored through his hard hat. He took a sharp breath and noted the quiet. Around an oil rig there was always noise. But not today. The crew on the ground was looking up in silence. No roar of the rig, no pipes or chains rattling, no yelling—just silence. Dead silence.

  “Everyone ready?” he called as he attempted another try.

  “Yes,” echoed through the stillness.

  Again Chance stretched out his arm, straining toward his brother with everything in him. This time he was able to shove two fingers into Cadde’s waist-band and pull. Woody and Mick went into action, each lifting an arm upward to Cadde’s side. Holding on with one arm, Kid threw the rope and jerked it tight around Cadde’s chest. They had him hog-tied.

  And safe. For now.

  “Is he breathing?” Kid asked.

  “I can’t tell,” Chance replied, not letting his mind go in that direction. He had to concentrate. Stay focused.

  He turned to Woody. “Tell Sam to send up the medical cage, more ropes and some bandages.”

  “Yes, sir.” Woody scurried down like a monkey.

  “How in the hell are we going to get him in the cage?” Kid wanted to know.

  “With brute strength,” Chance replied. And little else.

  He looked toward the sky and saw the Texas and U.S. flags waving in the breeze at the top of the derrick. For a moment, all he could see were green eyes. They disappeared in a haze of thundercloud blue as the sun disappeared. He could use some of Nettie’s magic right about now. But the only kind of magic he knew, the only kind his mother had taught him, was the real deal. His eyes centered on the rolling clouds and he prayed like he’d never prayed before.

  Woody returned with a rope wrapped around each shoulder and a bandage in his pocket. He pulled out the latter and handed it to Kid. “Mr. Sam said to peel off the back and stick it on.”

  Kid followed instructions and leaned out to apply it. “It’s soaking up the blood.”

  “Maybe it will clot,” Chance said, as two roughnecks inched upward with the medical cage. “Apply some pressure.”

  “It’s not working,” Kid yelled in a frantic voice. “We have to get him to a hospital.”

  “Calm down,” Chance shouted. He had one brother in crisis. He didn’t need another.

  The stretcher with the leather straps reached them. “What’s the plan?” Kid asked.

  “We have to get his body on it.” Chance glanced toward the threatening sky and felt a warm gust of wind on his face. “We could use a little help,” he whispered. Almost on request, the dark clouds vanished and the sun poked through again, bathing them in sunshine. “Thank you,” he mouthed, and devised a plan to save his brother.

  He didn’t have to do much planning. The roughnecks, who’d faced many crises on the rigs, knew what to do. They were hardworking men devoted to a dangerous job. And right now they were all devoted to saving their boss.

  Four roughnecks with two-by-fours tucked against their bodies climbed the derrick from the other side. Chance knew what they were going to do. He didn’t need to tell them. With the two
-by-fours they were going to guide the stretcher down and keep it from jarring against the derrick.

  Now they had to get Cadde on it.

  Woody and Mick aligned the stretcher against Cadde’s long body. The other roughnecks held it in place with the two-by-fours. Chance and Kid went to work strapping Cadde into the cage with the attached leather thongs. Then Chance looped a rope around and around their brother, making sure Cadde was firmly anchored inside the cage.

  Kid positioned Cadde’s head in the padded horseshoe-shaped headrest and tightened a strap across his forehead.

  They both worked while holding on to the derrick with one hand, and using the other to the best of their ability.

  “We got him secure,” Kid finally called.

  Chance shoved his hand into the carrying handle so he could use his arm to take the weight off Kid’s back.

  Kid did the same for more leverage.

  Woody and Mick climbed to stand between them, each with a grip on the stretcher. The other roughnecks were in place with the two-by-fours.

  They were ready.

  “Okay, boys,” Chance shouted. “Let’s go down—slowly. Wait a minute.” He realized they had one small problem. Cadde was still anchored to the derrick.

  “I’ll get it, sir,” Woody called, realizing the problem at the same time. He crawled higher and reached up to undo Cadde’s legs.

  Chance felt the weight on his arm, and his muscles tightened. But he held on.

  Woody then hurried down to release Cadde’s chest. “Ready,” he called.

  “Let it go,” Kid said, and Chance knew Kid was bracing for the weight that was about to come down on him.

  Slowly, Woody untied the knot and Cadde was deadweight in their hands. Kid groaned under the impact. Chance pulled as hard as he could, trying to take the weight off him. Woody hurried back into place and grabbed the stretcher.

  “Let’s go,” Chance called.

  Inch by inch the stretcher moved downward. Everyone did their job. No one flinched. No one complained. They just kept holding on with all their strength. The wind blew against them and shook their composure a couple of times, but no one let go. It seemed like hours, but Chance knew it was only minutes before they reached the drilling platform.