Taken Home (Lone Star Burn)

by Ruth Cardello

  Mason cut into his steak and said blandly, “Some couches are quite dangerous. They have those levers on the side and snap into place. A person could easily lose a finger.”

  Her father opened his mouth to say something, appeared to realize Mason was poking a little fun at him, and snapped his mouth shut.

  Chelle quickly interceded by explaining the merits of the water bill Mason was working on. She wanted her father to see the good he was doing.

  Her father laid down his knife and studied Mason. “That can’t be a popular stand to take.”

  Mason’s expression hardened. “It’s not, but the right thing to do is often not the easiest. My second term ends in two years. I can’t run again for this office, but I can use my remaining time to get some long-term policies put in place that will hopefully avert what could be one of our nation’s largest man-made disasters if we allow it to go unchecked.”

  “We struggle with similar issues here. So”—her father continued his cross-examination—“what are your plans for after you leave the senate? Can you see yourself here in Texas?”

  “Dad,” Chelle protested again. “We haven’t discussed that yet.”

  “Well, you need to,” her father countered. “Marriage isn’t something you should jump in and out of like so many people do today. I want to know that the two of you have thought this through. Are you planning on having children? Have you talked about if Chelle is going to continue to work? She left here thinking she wanted to find her dream job and came back with you. I want to know what else she found out there.”

  Chelle’s mother put her hand on her husband’s shoulder. “Roger, don’t you think you’re being too hard on them? If my father had asked us where we wanted to be, we would have said together. Give them time to figure everything out. We’ve raised a smart daughter. Trust her to make good choices.”

  Roger gave Mason a long look. “I trust our daughter; it’s him I’m not sure about yet.”

  Mason held his tongue and met Chelle’s eyes. She shot him a grateful look. A week ago she would have been writhing internally from guilt as she lied to her parents. But now she didn’t feel guilty at all. Their actual engagement might not be real, but how she felt about Mason was. “Dad, I wouldn’t have brought Mason home to meet you if I didn’t think he was the most amazing man I’ve ever known.”

  A funny, pained expression passed over Mason’s face.

  Roger’s eyes narrowed and he asked, “What does your father do for a living, Mason?”

  “I don’t know. He and I don’t speak.”

  Chelle knew that wasn’t an easy admission for Mason to make. She put her hand on his and gave it a squeeze. She wanted to protect him from the questions, but she also understood what her mother had said about letting them get to know each other.

  “And your mother?” her father asked gruffly.

  “She died when I was eighteen,” Mason said, his tone devoid of emotion.

  Her father’s expression softened. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  Mason shrugged a shoulder. “It was a long time ago.”

  Roger nodded, then threw his napkin down beside his plate. “Bryn, dinner was wonderful as always. If you don’t mind, I’d like to show Mason around. It’s early enough for us to get in a ride before sundown.”

  “That sounds perfect. It’ll give Chelle and me time to catch up,” Bryn answered.

  Her father and Mason stood, and Chelle panicked. She interjected quickly, “Dad, I’m sure Mason doesn’t ride.”

  Roger turned to Mason. “Do you?”

  Mason’s unreadable smile was back. “Of course.”

  “Then let’s go,” Roger said and led the way out of the dining room.

  Mason winked at her as he followed her father. Chelle had no idea what that meant. “Mom, we have to stop them. What if Mason said he can ride just because he didn’t want to say no to Dad?”

  Her mother started clearing the dishes from the table. “Grab the glasses. I’ll take the plates. And then you need to tell me why you’re marrying a man you don’t know all that much about. Are you pregnant?”

  Chelle gathered the glasses and followed her mother into the kitchen. “No. Oh, Mom. Did you ever do something that feels right and wrong at the same time?”

  “He’s not married to someone else already, is he?” Bryn asked while leading the way back to retrieve more dishes.

  “No, nothing like that.”

  A moment later, they were back in the kitchen. Her mother was washing the dishes, and Chelle was drying them. “Well, speak, child. I’m listening.”

  Chelle dried another dish and stacked it in the cupboard. “I’m happy, Mom. Nothing happened the way I would have planned it, but does that make it bad? I want to be with Mason, and he wants to be with me. Can’t that be enough?”

  Bryn took a break from washing the dishes and wiped her hands on a towel. “We’re happy you found someone, Chelle, but your father’s not the only one who is worried. You don’t have to rush into anything. Take your time. If this is the man you’re meant to be with, it’ll happen.”

  Chelle turned and leaned back against the counter. “If you’re so worried, why are you having a party for us tomorrow?”

  Bryn kissed her daughter’s forehead and said, “You’re our only child, and if you love Mason, then we love him, too, and that’s something to celebrate, don’t you think?”

  Chelle threw her arms around her mother and hugged her. “It is. How did I end up with the best parents in the world?”

  Her mother wiped away a tear and smoothed her hands on her apron before turning back to the sink. “Well, you didn’t do it by slacking on your chores. We’ll have company in and out of here all day tomorrow. Let’s get this place cleaned up.”

  Chelle picked up the towel again and dried another dish. “I don’t have a solid plan about anything, Mom. I’m twenty-five, and I feel like my whole life is up in the air. Sometimes I feel free. Sometimes I’m downright terrified.”

  Her mother paused again and met her eyes. “I’ve seen you make tough choices in the past, but I’ve never heard you say you’ve regretted them. You’ll be fine, Chelle. Keep following that beautiful heart of yours, and you’ll end up where you’re supposed to be.”

  Chelle nodded, glad she’d come home. She hoped Mason was enjoying himself as much as she was. “You don’t think Dad would put Mason in danger, do you?”

  The quick no Chelle had hoped to hear didn’t come. Instead, her mother rinsed the last dish off and said, “Why don’t we go check on them?”

  Mason took a long, hard look at the horse Chelle’s father had asked his ranch hand to saddle for him. The mare was swaybacked and insultingly aged; she was in her thirties if she was a day old. He could feel Roger watching his reaction and knew he was being tested.

  Had Mason not learned to ride at one of the summer camps his parents had sent him to, he would have accepted that mount. His parents had cultivated skills in Mason they thought would help him become a star. He’d taken fencing, self-defense, riding, and acting lessons as early on as he could remember. It hadn’t particularly mattered if he enjoyed them or not, although he had. Especially riding. The rider and the horse worked together, or they failed. Mason’s instructors had said he was a natural.

  He hadn’t ridden since before his mother died. Temptation spurred him to see if he could still do it. Mason looked away from the old mare being led toward him and scanned the paddocks. “Do you have anything younger? A little more challenging to ride?”

  He spotted a well-muscled brown horse in a round pen. “How about him?”

  Roger shook his head. “You wouldn’t want him. He requires an experienced rider.”

  Mason walked over to the pen and looked the horse over. “I’d like to try him.”

  “Are you sure I can’t talk you out of it?” Roger asked in a dry tone.

  “I’m sure,” Mason said with growing confidence.

  Roger told the ranch hand to saddle the you
nger horse. The man said, “Boss, isn’t that the horse you’re sending over to Tony because—”

  Roger cut the man off. “Saddle him up.”

  “Yes, boss.” The man gave Mason a look and shrugged.

  Mason was no fool. He had a pretty good idea that the horse being saddled for him had issues. He could have confronted Roger and gotten him to admit it. He could just as easily have refused to ride the horse. But he had a feeling Chelle’s father wouldn’t have respected him for choosing either one of those options.

  Mason decided to get up on that horse, and if he were thrown, he would get back on. He was going to prove to Roger he was not out of place on that ranch. Exactly why Roger’s opinion mattered so much wasn’t something Mason was about to analyze. It just did.

  When the ranch hand returned with the bay, Mason walked over and laid his hand on the horse’s neck. “What’s his name?”

  “We call him Fury, but on paper his name’s Prancer. The breeder’s daughter named him. She thought he had a cute trot. He didn’t make it as a family horse, though.”

  Mason looked into the horse’s eyes. He didn’t see craziness there; he saw anxiety. So he spoke softly and slowly. “Well, Prancer, you need to consider rebranding yourself. I can’t say either name fits you. How about Tango? Would you like me to call you that?”

  “What’s he doing?” the ranch hand asked.

  “He’s having a conversation with the damn horse,” Roger answered.

  “You think he can ride?”

  “He says he can.”

  “You want me to call Doc Stevens and have him on standby?”

  Mason tuned the two men out and said, “Tango, I’ll make you a deal. Don’t throw me, and I will make sure they change your name.” With that, he swung himself up into the saddle and waited.

  The horse danced nervously beneath him, but Mason left the reins slack. He relaxed in his seat and let the horse settle. Like riding a bike, his ability to communicate with horses came back to him. He could hear his trainer telling him to keep his commands firm, but his hands light.

  Mason didn’t consider himself a horse whisperer, but he could read people and animals. He would bet the horse below him had been spoiled by his previous owner and allowed to pick up some bad habits. Habits cowboys would have no tolerance for. If he was right, the horse wasn’t angry; he was confused and frustrated. The rules had all changed for him, and Mason could imagine how the horse would respond to being harshly reined in. Mason would buck, too.

  He asked the horse to walk and kept that in mind. He ignored the dance and focused on guiding the horse to where he wanted to go. The horse took off at a run, and Mason let him. He ran that horse down the path along the side of the barn, across the field, and back. When the horse began to slow, he pushed him to run more. Only when they came around the large barn for the second time did Mason ask the horse to drop down to a walk again.

  And the horse did. Feeling exhilarated, Mason gave the horse a hearty pat on the neck and rode up beside Chelle’s father. “Are you saddling up?”

  Roger’s face split into a smile for the first time that day. “Well, I’ll be damned. That horse may not need Tony Carlton after all.” He turned to his ranch hand. “Tack Checkers up for me. Looks like we’re going for a ride.”

  After the ranch hand was out of earshot, Roger said, “I was sure I’d see you fall on your ass, son, but I’m glad you didn’t. Chelle needs a strong man she can respect. That doesn’t mean I agree with all the tomfoolery I’ve read about you in the press, but I’m sure that’s all behind you now.”

  “Yes, sir,” Mason said, treating the man with more deference than he’d ever shown, even with his own father. There was something about Roger that made a man want to stand straighter around him.

  “Roger Wilton Landon, tell me you did not put my future son-in-law on a horse you said was dangerous.” Chelle’s mother’s voice rang out from the porch steps.

  Mason choked back a laugh and avoided Roger’s eyes. They’d gotten to a good place he didn’t want to spoil.

  “Oh my God, Dad. He could have been killed.” Chelle closed the distance between them.

  Roger’s horse arrived, and he swung himself into the saddle. “Don’t get yourselves all lathered up. In fact, since you two are out here, do you want to join us? I thought we’d ride down to the summer pasture.”

  Chelle looked up at Mason. “Are you all right?”

  Roger made a disgusted sound. “Don’t coddle the man. He’s a fine rider.”

  “He is?” Chelle asked in awe. A huge smile spread across his face. “Of course he is.” She turned to her mother. “Mom? Do you want to go?”

  Bryn waved a finger at her husband, but nodded. “You are so lucky he didn’t get hurt. Come on, Chelle. Clover will be happy to see you.” She looked back at her husband. “We’ll be two minutes. I want everyone still alive when I come back.”

  Chelle and her mother led their horses into the barn while two ranch hands rushed to help them. Roger cleared his throat and said, “If she’s still mad at me later, I’ll apologize. You remember that, son. Pride isn’t strength; it’s weakness. There’s no shame in saying you’re sorry so you don’t have to sleep in the barn.”

  “Yes, sir,” Mason responded automatically while he tried to figure out why Roger’s words had touched him so deeply. Mason wanted to believe people could be as genuinely good as Chelle’s family appeared.

  He wanted to, but believing wasn’t his strong suit.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Later that night, Chelle and Mason sat side by side on the porch swing. Chelle couldn’t remember ever having a better day in her life. She looked down at her hand laced through Mason’s and thought if she died right then, no undertaker would be able to wipe the smile off her face. “You survived meeting my parents,” Chelle said.

  Mason tightened his grip on her hand. “It wasn’t hard. They’re nice people.”

  Chelle chuckled. “Nice? My dad did everything but ask you for a blood sample at dinner.”

  Mason smiled. “He wanted to make sure I was good enough for his daughter.”

  “How did he get you up on that horse?” Chelle asked with a shake of her head.

  “I chose it.”

  “Dad should have told you he considered Fury dangerous.”

  Mason shrugged. “Tango, and I would have gotten on him anyway.”

  “Tango, is it? I don’t understand men sometimes. Was it really worth risking breaking your neck?”

  “Yes,” Mason said simply.

  Chelle laid her head on Mason’s shoulder. “I used to ride with my parents all the time when I was younger, but I haven’t in a while. I’m glad we did tonight.”

  Mason turned his head and nuzzled her hair before saying, “Me too.”

  “Where did you learn to ride? I pictured you growing up in a city.”

  He shifted as if the topic of his past made him uncomfortable. “I did, but my parents wanted to prepare me for any role I might get in a movie.”

  “Did you always know you wanted to be an actor?”

  Mason was quiet for a moment. “I didn’t have a choice. My parents didn’t come from money. I don’t know what their finances were before I started working, but I don’t think they were very good. My mother used to say people would stop and stare at me when I was a baby. They’d tell her I was the most beautiful child they’d ever seen or that I belonged in commercials or on TV.”

  “It must have been devastating for you when she died.”

  Mason stared out into the darkness and said, “Yes. It was senseless, and it was difficult not to resent her for that.”

  “You don’t think she killed herself, do you?”

  Mason shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ll never know. My mother was prone to depression, and she closely linked her identity to my success. If I was doing well, she was on top of the world. If I failed at something, she couldn’t handle it. She and my father wanted to control every decision I made, rig
ht down to what I wore each day. It was too much. That’s why I fired my father. I didn’t want to hate them, and I was starting to.”

  “And then your mother died.”

  “Yes.”

  Chelle’s eyes filled with tears. “You must have felt responsible. You were too young to realize it wasn’t your fault.”

  When Mason fell quiet, Chelle decided to change the subject. She didn’t want the dark cloud of the past to mar what she hoped had been an amazing day for him. “Tomorrow is going to be crazy. Most of the town will probably be at Mrs. Nicholson’s. Some will come because they want to congratulate us, and some because they’re curious. Either way, prepare yourself for a whole lot of handshaking.”

  “I’m used to that,” Mason said with some humor.

  Chelle rocked back and forth in silence, letting herself simply enjoy being next to Mason. What had started as a game at Sarah’s wedding had grown into something real. She could picture being married to Mason. It was easy enough to imagine herself standing beside him in Sacramento as well as raising children with him in Fort Mavis.

  She let out a long, slow breath and admitted to herself that she had fallen completely, irreversibly in love with him. She loved how confident he was in public and how he let her see beyond that when they were alone. She loved how easily they could make each other laugh or turn each other on. She would have loved him even if he hadn’t known a horse from a donkey, but watching him bond with her father and the ranch hands was a little piece of heaven on earth.

  Tracing the edge of Mason’s thumb with hers, Chelle said, “I’m sorry you and Charles are having issues. I get the feeling it’s over me, and I don’t want to come between you two.”

  Mason lifted his arm, wrapped it around Chelle’s shoulders, and kissed her forehead. “I’ve certainly done enough to deserve his opinion of me.”

  Chelle voiced what she knew he couldn’t. “But it hurts.”

  He made a sound deep in his chest.

  Chelle raised her head and said, “Melanie thinks Charles is afraid we’ve taken this game too far, but it’s not a game to me.”