Lone Star Woman

by CALLAHAN, SADIE

  He peered up at her but hesitated a few seconds. “Brady’s resignation.”

  Now she thought her insides really might just go ahead and fly apart. “He’s quit? Did you ask him to?”

  “No.”

  She huffed a bitter laugh. “Then why would he?”

  “I want you to know, Jude, I’m trying to salvage this whole thing.” Her father slashed the air with his flattened hand. “I’m trying to make a deal with him. I’ve made him a fair offer.”

  Her brain felt as if a javelin had passed through it. Her brow tugged into a frown. “Offer? What are you talking about?”

  He stood up and planted his hands on his belt. “I told him I couldn’t have the two of you, uh . . .”

  “Sleeping together, Daddy.” She wanted to say fucking, but she couldn’t bring herself to say that to her father.

  “I told him if that’s what he, er, you, uh . . . both of you want, then you two should get married. I told him you’d been engaged to other men and it hasn’t worked out. I told him I realize he’s apparently the one you want.”

  Jude was stunned speechless. Her eyes bugged so hard, she thought they might pop out of their sockets.

  “I told him you don’t come without a dowry,” her father went on. “I said I’d set him up with a small cattle herd. I figure that Wallace place will support two fifty, maybe three hundred head.”

  Jude fisted her hands. “A bribe? You bribed someone to marry me? My God, Daddy. You didn’t sink to that depth even with Webb and Jason. Are you out of your mind? Are you so self-absorbed here in this . . . this limestone fortress that you don’t even know how a normal human being would react to that?” Her head throbbed. “Brady wouldn’t consider something so outrageous.”

  “He didn’t turn it down.” Her father’s brown eyes held hers. “He resigned from the GM job, but I think he could be thinking about the offer.”

  Suddenly Jude couldn’t breathe, couldn’t find words, wondered how she even remained standing. She unclenched her fists and splayed her fingers. “This is insane. I feel like I’m living in an asylum.” She started for the door again.

  “Where’re you going?”

  “Upstairs. I’m worn-out.”

  “You go on. Get some rest now. It’ll soon be dinnertime. I think we’re the only ones here to eat. We can talk then, after you’ve settled down.”

  “I will not be settling down. And I will not be eating dinner.”

  She tramped upstairs on shaky knees. Brady’s smile loomed in her mind all the way to her bedroom. She would never stand in the light of those sky blue eyes again. For the first time in her life, she had wanted something more desperately than she wanted to run the Circle C. And her father had destroyed it. But worse than that, she had helped. She thought of her great-grandmother, Penelope Ann. This could only be more of the Campbell Curse.

  She hadn’t been in her room more than fifteen minutes before she heard quick, heavy boot steps in the hall. She opened the door to see her father standing there with the real estate purchase contract in his hand. His face was a thunder-cloud. He shook the contract at her. “Jude, what are you doing?”

  A week later, Jude’s life at the Circle C had changed in ways she would have never thought possible. She had shredded the real estate contract. Her father again had the reins of the Circle C firmly in hand. On the surface, in an overstated display, the household appeared to be calm—but underneath, the ambience was as brittle as dried sticks. She no longer had drinks with her father at the cocktail hour, nor did she walk with Grandpa in the evenings. She didn’t even eat dinner and supper with Daddy and Grandpa. She excused herself by saying she had to do work for the start of school. She rode Patch every day, exploring parts of the ranch she hadn’t ridden to in months, if not years. She spent her evenings constructing her resume but had difficulty filling a whole page, even when she adjusted the margins.

  Suzanne called her every day, trying to persuade her to go here or go there. She did go to town every day to eat at Maisie’s. Sometimes Suzanne accompanied her. Jude listened as her best friend raved about Pat Garner. But while she was glad for Suzanne’s happiness with a new boyfriend, hearing about it only worsened Jude’s mood.

  In her mind, she saw herself going to Brady’s house and explaining away her attempt to buy his land behind his back for a below-market price. She would park in front of the rickety old porch. He would hear her pickup engine and come outside. There, the fantasy ended because she knew that in reality, he would probably ask her to leave.

  Brady was now headed in a different—and less desirable—direction. He had applied for a line of credit at an Abilene bank, using part of the 6-0 land as collateral. He was waiting for an appraiser to arrive and assess its value. Once he had the money, he figured he would start out with two hundred head of cows. Bad time of year to be starting, but he had to make do.

  Next week, Andy and Jarrett would be showing up to spend the week with him before the beginning of school. He was still negotiating with Marvalee on custody, but he believed that his ex-wife, now that she would soon be single again, was tired of being a parent.

  He was painting one of the bedrooms, getting it ready for the boys, when he heard the clatter of a diesel engine in his driveway. He walked outside just in time to see Jude’s truck come to a stop. He had tied a bandana on his head to avoid paint spatter in his hair. He peeled it off and shoved his hand through his hair.

  “Hi,” she said, looking up at him, her hands stuffed into the back pockets of her jeans. She had on those damn sunglasses that hid half her face, but she looked pretty and sexy. He stuffed the bandana into his hip pocket. “What’s up?”

  Her shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Nothing much. I just dropped by.”

  He nodded.

  “How’re the horses?”

  “Great.”

  “I’ll bet they . . . miss me.”

  Her head turned and she looked out over the pasture where the horses grazed in the sun. His jaw clenched, but he stepped down off the porch. She removed the sunglasses and squinted up at him. “Brady, I—I came to say I’m sorry.”

  He didn’t want to hear her apology. Hell. What he wanted was to have never gotten his own life crossed up with the Circle C in the first place, but it was too late for that. “Don’t worry about it. Sh—Stuff happens.”

  “Can I tell you how . . . or why I wanted to buy the land?”

  It made no difference to him that she wanted the land. By now, he had seen that coveting land was in the Strayhorn blood. He supposed she was no different from the rest of that family. Her method was what had him bewildered. And the fact that she had broken their trust. But after she had come to apologize, he wouldn’t be so bad-mannered as not to let her talk. He crossed his arms over his chest. “You’ve got the floor.”

  “When I first made the offer, it was after Daddy had given you the general manager’s job. I was so angry. I’ve wanted to do something on my own for a long time. And I knew Grandpa wanted the land. I realized it was a mistake later. For what it’s worth, I eventually canceled the contract.”

  It just wasn’t enough. How could he forgive her? Given the same opportunity again, she would do exactly what she had done. He had seen nothing to convince him otherwise. “I appreciate your telling me.”

  She nodded. “Well, I guess that’s that. I’m headed for town. Guess I’ll go on.”

  “Yeah, I need to get back to my painting.”

  “What’re you painting?”

  “The back bedroom. My boy and my stepson are coming next week.”

  “Oh. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah.”

  It was what he wanted, but he had also wanted more that he obviously couldn’t have, at least not on his own terms. The lesson to be learned was that a man shouldn’t want—or expect—too much.

  The next morning, Jude left the house early and went to town to eat breakfast and run errands. She returned to the ranch midmorning to see a Life
Flight helicopter sitting in the parking lot. Her heart nearly leaped from her chest. She slammed to a stop in front of the garage and raced toward the chopper. Doc Barrett met her and stopped her. “Is it Daddy?” she cried, trying to pull away from him.

  “No, Jude, no,” the vet said, gripping her shoulders and holding her back. “It’s Jeff.”

  “Grandpa? Wh-what happened?”

  “We don’t know. Maybe a stroke. Maybe a heart attack.”

  Just then, her father’s pickup came to a skidding stop beside her and the vet. “Jude. Get in.”

  They made the hundred-mile trip to the Abilene hospital in under an hour. Neither of them spoke. Jude sat as rigid as a statue, her teeth clenched. At the hospital, they learned that her grandfather had passed away in the helicopter. When the ER doctor told them, Daddy’s eyes teared, as did her own. She stood in the hallway watching him pull his handkerchief from his back pocket, take off his glasses and wipe his eyes. Then he replaced his glasses, pulled his cell phone off his belt and began making phone calls. That was who her father was—the man who always did what needed doing, no matter what. She didn’t know who he might be calling. Cable perhaps. Or other distant relatives.

  When he finished, he spoke to the doctor again, then a nurse at the nurses’ station, after which Jude and he started back to Lockett.

  Of course arrangements for Grandpa were already made, had been for years, no doubt. His funeral would take place in the church in Lockett founded by his mother’s father. He would be laid to rest beside his wife, who Jude barely remembered.

  The tension in the pickup cab was intense. Jude’s chest carried so much weight, she could barely breathe. She wished she hadn’t had the wicked thoughts she’d had about Grandpa the last few weeks, wished she had walked with him a few more times. She had, after all, loved him, and he had loved her. She felt bereft and empty. She had to ask, “Did he know about my trying to buy the 6-0?”

  “No. There was no reason to tell him that. If you had gone through with it, he would have known then.”

  She nodded, looking down at the Kleenex she was shredding.

  Except for road noise, they rode in silence for another little while. Then Daddy said, “I suppose you’ll never tell me why you did that.”

  She shook her head. “It just seemed like a good idea at the time.”

  More silence. Then, “Obviously some things at the ranch have to change,” her father said, “I don’t know if Dad’s passing will make a difference to Cable. I’m sure Jake’s attitude won’t change.”

  “Cable hasn’t lived at the ranch in years. He never did have a great interest in the operation of it. He mostly just liked the horses.”

  “Before the house fills with people, Jude, I want to have a meeting. With you and Brady Fallon, the three of us together. I want to set things straight.”

  She looked at him and frowned. “Why?”

  “Because I have to think of the future of Strayhorn Corp. And I have to put a new survival mechanism in place. When I hired Brady, I thought I was on the way to getting that done. I still believe in him.”

  “So why include me in a meeting?”

  “Because you and your children are the future of this family’s legacy. Maybe Webb and Jason were bad choices for husbands. But I think Brady cares about you. You care about him or you wouldn’t have . . .”

  When his words trailed off, she said dully, “Slept with him, Daddy.” It felt otherworldly to be having this conversation at this moment.

  Unfortunately, her father’s belief in Brady and his notions of romance wouldn’t undo what she had done. She shook her head again. “Brady’s so angry over me trying to buy the 6-0, he barely speaks to me. I doubt if he’s interested in breeding. Of course, if you throw enough money in front of him . . .” She twisted her mouth into a horseshoe scowl and bobbed her head.

  “Jude. We’re talking about the future of the Strayhorn dynasty. Neither one of us can take that lightly.”

  She stared out the window and made a bitter noise. “Well, we know he isn’t sterile. He’s already sired one offspring. But I assure you, he isn’t available for stud service.”

  Her father sighed. “You’re being mean, Jude. And don’t put words into my mouth. The idea is not for you to just have children. I want you to be happy with someone who loves you and who’ll look out for you. I want for you what I’ve never had. There are so many things money can’t buy.”

  The meeting took place the next day. Brady offered his condolences, then listened stoically to what Daddy proposed: Brady would return to work as the general manager, with Jude assisting where it was needed. A romantic relationship between them wasn’t a requirement, but if one were to blossom again, Daddy wouldn’t oppose it. Jude was amazed when Brady agreed to it, but after all, his choices were limited and he was smart enough to know it.

  It all sounded so simple on the surface.

  And so ridiculous.

  27

  In the days following Grandpa’s funeral, Jude found herself in a strange state of mind. She focused on doing what she normally did, even helped Brady a little as agreed. She had less time for it because school had started, which kept her busy all day and some evenings.

  She and Brady were polite to each other, even complimenting each other when called for, but a solid barrier existed between them. They never discussed the 6-0 or Brady’s son. That part of his life seemed off-limits. Brady fit perfectly into Daddy’s and Grandpa’s proclivity for minimal and selective conversation.

  Brady reestablished himself in the office in the veterinary clinic, and she returned to putting things in order in the sunroom. Daddy and Brady began having drinks every evening in Daddy’s office. Jude had attended on two of those occasions but had opted out after that. The chauvinism was too blatant, the testosterone too deep.

  She decided to ride the young horses to get away from the ranch and people on the weekends. She was a daughter of the earth and had always fared better in life when she remembered that.

  The Saturday after school started, she packed a lunch, took a six-pack of bottled water from the pantry, saddled a three-year-old gelding named Pokey and set out for a day-long ride. Before she left the house, Daddy cautioned her about riding out alone on a green-broke horse, but she had no fear of horses, even green-broke ones.

  She swung into the saddle and started for the big gate that opened onto the pasture. Brady was there waiting to open the gate for her, and she felt that odd little stir in her stomach when she saw him. No matter what had happened, he was still the best-looking man she had ever met. As she waited for him to open the gate, he gripped Pokey’s bridle, looked up at her and wrapped his right hand around her ankle. She made herself not jerk her ankle free of his hand.

  “You be careful out there,” he said. “Pokey’s known to crow hop a little.”

  She smiled down at him. “We’re buds, Pokey and me.” She nudged the gray through the gate and didn’t look back.

  It was morning, but the sun already blazed from a white-hot sky. She was glad she had thrown a long-sleeve shirt over her tank top. The August sun could fry an egg.

  A sudden memory of her childhood darted into her mind. Back then, the kitchen help had kept hens for fresh eggs. Cable and Jake had stolen a hatful from the nests, and she had followed them up to the big barn’s loft, giggling as they dropped them out the second-story loft window onto the neighboring barn’s metal roof and watched them fry. Grandpa had been so mad at them. Even now, thinking of it made her laugh. Cable. He had come for Grandpa’s funeral. After not seeing or hearing from each other for so long, they’d had a warm reunion. She still had him on her mind.

  As she topped a rise, a hot wind swept her cheeks and threatened her hat, causing her to cram it tightly onto her head. The wind’s motion even pestered Pokey. He walked with his head down, and she could sense his edginess. The wind had been gusting for several days, only further drying out the already baked pastures and turning the grass crisp. Dry wind
storms weren’t new occurrences, but they were always nail-biters. No greater fire hazard existed than the combination of dry grass and low humidity.

  She rode a familiar trail that led to Rimrock Canyon. Her destination was roughly eight miles from the ranch house over mixed terrain, a good workout for a horse. She remembered reading that in the old days, a good horse might travel twenty miles or more in a day. By the time they reached the canyon, she and Pokey both were sweating. She found that the canyon’s sandy floor was damp, kept that way by an underground water source. Riding into it felt almost like entering an air-conditioned room. Within the canyon’s steep walls, the wind became a zephyr rather than a gale.

  Noon had already passed, so the tiny pool where she usually watered Patch lay in the shadow of the canyon’s steep wall. She loosened Pokey’s cinch and let him drink his fill.

  She laid out her lunch on the flat limestone outcropping where she usually ate when she came here. She had packed an apple, a hunk of Gouda cheese and some Ritz crackers and a bottle of water. Save for the chirr of insects and the call of distant birds, no sound penetrated the solitude.

  After eating, she lay back on the flat rock and closed her eyes, thinking about how no matter the day-to-day changes, life moved on. Just two weeks ago, Grandpa had been carried to his grave in a pine box, on a nineteenth-century buck-board, escorted by ranch hands wearing work clothing and riding good horses. A graveside eulogy had been delivered by Windy. Afterward, there had been grief and whiskey and speeches by pompous politicians.

  And now there was nothing. Except for Brady’s presence, nothing had changed at the Circle C. Constancy. The fundamental element of dynasty. It was bigger than all of them. Daddy knew that. She knew it, too, but had temporarily forgotten it.