“Tell her we keep a pretty good eye on things that are entrusted to us out here,” Rafe said, his response edged.
Christine Grant had no trouble picking up on the message. “What was it Ira told me about the Parkers? Oh, yes-that you were the salt of the earth.”
Then she turned to go back upstairs. Only to stop once again to glance at Morgan. “I do sincerely thank you,” she said.
The three of them watched her until she disappeared from view.
At that point Shannon frowned and asked, “What did she mean by that?”
Rafe’s smile was ironic. “I think we’ve just been told that we aren’t…the salt of the earth,” he explained at Shannon’s continued look of confusion. Then his smiled broadened as he thumped Morgan on the shoulder. “But you are,” he teased.
“Nah,” Morgan said. “She can’t stand the sight of me.”
“That’s not the way it looked from over here.”
“Then you need to get your eyes tested,” Morgan said gruffly, and went back out to the truck.
He started it and drove away. And for the first time since coming back to help out while his father was injured, once he reached the road he let himself revert to type and pressed the accelerator to the floor. Dust flew high into the air behind the racing wheels.
He’d forgotten how good it felt to let go.
CHAPTER FOUR
CHRISTINE A WOKE shortly before eight the next morning and was amazed that she’d slept at all. Unfamiliar house, unfamiliar bed, unaccustomed noises. She wasn’t used to the far-off howl of a coyote or the old-fashioned twice-hourly striking of a grandfather clock in the hall just beyond the door.
Yet the arrival of a new day did nothing to change yesterday’s problems. As she’d more than half expected, she was going to have a battle on her hands. The Parkers weren’t at all pleased to see her. Although they hadn’t shown themselves to be spiteful, like Abigail and Brendan, it might be only a matter of time before the nastiness began. She had to be prepared for anything.
She glanced at Erin, who was still asleep in the bed next to hers, and debated whether to wake her. They hadn’t put in an appearance downstairs last night. Erin had already been through so much Christine hadn’t wanted to heap more strain on her. The worst, from Erin’s perspective, had come when she thought she’d lost Golden Belle. She’d collapsed on the bed in a storm of tears that had stopped only when the newly reclaimed horse had been slipped into her hands. Another wave of tears followed, but these were tears of happiness and relief. This morning the palomino was still clasped tightly to her chest.
Christine decided to let Erin sleep while she bathed and dressed. A return to the real would come soon enough. She gathered the same shorts and shirt she’d worn yesterday. She had no choice but to wear them again. Her suitcase was in the car and the car was out by the “border to Indian Wells.” Wasn’t that what Morgan Hughes had told his father? She would give a lot to be able to change into a respectable-looking skirt and blouse, and take time with her hair and makeup—to correct the negative impression she knew she’d already created. -But it probably wouldn’t do any good. Like everyone else, the Parkers would believe what they wanted to believe.
Erin awoke as Christine came back into the room. Her eyelids fluttered open to a moment of confusion, before she remembered where she was. She immediately sat up. “We’re still here!” she said. “I dreamed we were back in Houston, with Ira and Mrs. Tobin, and—”
“We’re still here,” Christine confirmed, smiling fondly as she crossed to sit on the edge of the bed.
Erin frowned. “I don’t know if I like this place.”
“You haven’t been here long enough to tell.”
“That lady—the older one—I don’t know if I like her, either.”
Christine smoothed back her daughter’s dark hair. “Why don’t you go take a bath. I did and I feel great. You will, too. Then we’ll go down and see about breakfast. Are you hungry?”
“Will that lady be there?” Erin asked, her expression dubious.
“Probably. Possibly. I have no idea.”
Erin slid out of bed and padded barefoot and in her panties to the bathroom.
“You’ll have to wear what you did yesterday,” Christine called after her.
“Ew-w!” Erin replied.
Christine chuckled. “Don’t fuss. That’s what I’m doing.”
Someone tapped on the door. Erin squeaked and closed herself inside the bathroom, while Christine went to answer it.
Shannon stood in the hall holding a tray. On it was a carafe of coffee, two cups and a glass of orange juice.
“Good morning!” she greeted Christine brightly. “I thought you might like a little help getting started this morning.” She proffered the tray. “And something to wear.” She tapped the suitcase at her feet with a slippered toe. “Rafe had LeRoy—LeRoy’s one of his cousins—haul your car to the ranch. It’s here now, in the garage out by the barn. LeRoy will take a look at it later to see if he can fix it. He’s a miracle worker with engines.”
Christine took possession of the tray and glanced around the room for a place to put it.
“Marie will make breakfast whenever you want it,” Shannon said, “but I remember my first morning here. A cup of coffee first thing would have been welcome.”
Christine set the tray on the low chest of drawers, whose heavy dark wood gleamed with polish. “Thank you,” she murmured.
“And this, too, I believe.” Shannon scooted the suitcase into the room.
“Yes.”
A silence fell, then Shannon asked, “Would you mind if I share your coffee? I’ve brought enough for two.” But when Christine didn’t respond, she murmured, “Then again, maybe you need more than one cup to get started in the morning. I—I’ll just leave you to enjoy it. There’ll be plenty of time later to talk. When you—”
“Is Rafe having the car repaired so he can get rid of us?” Christine interrupted.
Shannon frowned. “Of course not.”
“There’s no ‘of course not’ to it. I know everyone here would rather see the back of us. And the sooner, the better, I’d be willing to bet.”
“Rafe told you last night that you were welcome to stay while he and Mae—”
“People have a way of changing their minds.”
“Not Rafe. When he says something, he means it.”
“To you, maybe.”
“To everyone! Rafe is the most honest trustworthy man I’ve ever—”
“And how do I know I can trust you?” Christine challenged.
Shannon stared at her, wide-eyed. Finally she admitted, “You don’t.”
Christine allowed a small smile. “Now you understand my problem.”
Shannon seemed taken aback. “You’re wrong. About Rafe, about me—”
The bathroom door opened and a freshly bathed Erin came into the room. Wrapped in a large white towel that dragged on the floor, she regarded Shannon with unconcealed wariness.
Christine took the situation in hand. She swung the suitcase onto her bed and, opening it, began to search through the hastily packed clothing. “Guess what, Erin,” she said with feigned brightness. “Our suitcase has arrived! Now we have fresh clothes to wear!”
Shannon went to the door. “Mae’s in her office and Rafe’s gone to town,” she said quietly. “No one will disturb you while you eat breakfast, and I—I’ll stay out of your way, too.”
Christine could hear the hurt her rebuff had caused the other woman, and it pricked her conscience. They couldn’t have been more than two or three years apart in age. Shannon was maybe twenty-seven or twentyeight. But she was a Parker—or as good as. And even though she had been nice last night and had made kind overtures this morning, she wasn’t on Christine’s and Erin’s side.
As a sop to her conscience, Christine did what she’d done the evening before when that abrasive Morgan Hughes had turned up with Golden Belle—she fell back on straightforward politeness. �
�Thank you for bringing the coffee and juice,”-she said. “And the suitcase.”
Shannon’s cornflower blue eyes were steady as she paused, her hand on the doorknob. “You’re welcome,” she said. Then she stepped into the hall, shutting the door softly behind her.
CHRISTINE AND ERIN found their way to the dining room, where two places had been set at a long table. A table whose dark heavy wood was repeated in a sideboard. Both were echoes of the Spanish flavor at work throughout the house, from the subtle undercurrent in Mae Parker’s office to the more overt influences of the black wrought-iron chandelier and stair railing in the entry way to the brightly colored rugs on the gray stone floors.
The housekeeper—a plump middle-aged woman with short curly brown hair and an austere demeanor—came through from the kitchen just as Christine was seeing Erin into her chair. “So you’re up,” she said.
There was no subservience in her manner. Only a cool formality, which made it obvious that she knew the reason Christine and Erin were here, and, naturally, sided with the Parkers.
“Yes,” Christine replied.
“And now you’re ready for breakfast. What would you like? Eggs, bacon, toast?”
“Just toast for me, please” Christine said, “and cereal for Erin. Any kind of dry will do.”
“Dry cereal—out of a box? For a growing little girl?” The housekeeper sounded appalled.
Christine held on to her patience. “Yes. She likes it.”
The housekeeper went back into the kitchen, shaking her head.
“I would have eaten an egg, Mommy,” Erin whispered.
“I know, but you shouldn’t have to, not if you’d rather have cereal. The Parker Ranch is our home now, Erin. We have to start like we mean to go on, otherwise—”
The housekeeper—Marie, Christine remembered—reentered the room, carrying a larger version of the round serving tray Shannon had brought to their room earlier. Balancing it on one hip, she served the table, performing the duty as if she’d been doing it for years, which she probably had—on this ranch, in this room. She had the aura of an old retainer, a quality shared by Ira’s Mrs. Tobin.
Thinking of Mrs. Tobin made Christine yearn for the time they’d spent in Ira’s house and for the kindnesses the elderly housekeeper and Ira had shown them. Not once had either of them questioned Christine’s motives or made disparaging remarks.
“If I’ve forgotten something, tell me,” Marie said, standing back.
Christine glanced at the bowl of cornflakes served to Erin, along with the pitcher of milk, sugar, fresh fruit and a glass of orange juice—all within easy reach of the little girl. And closer to herself, the stack of toast, obviously made from homemade bread, along with butter and several varieties of jams and jellies. “Thank you,” she murmured. “I’m sure that’s everything.”
Christine wasn’t at all hungry, but aware that she was setting an example for Erin, she spread plum jelly on a thick piece of toast and started to eat it. Erin followed suit, adding milk and sugar to her cereal and several of the fresh strawberries.
Surprisingly, or not so surprisingly, since neither of them had done much justice to the beef stew that had been sent to their room last night, their appetites picked up, and plates and bowl were soon emptied.
At that point Christine sat back, smiling. But before she could utter a word, a man and woman, both in their early thirties, came into the room. The man had the look of Rafe and Mae Parker—thick dark hair, intense black eyes, the same familial features. But where Rafe Parker was long and lean, this man was of average height and stocky. The woman, tall and strong-looking, had short hair almost the same color as Christine’s and wide-spaced gray eyes.
Her curious gaze took in everything at once-the relaxed way Christine and Erin had been sitting, their instant alertness, the clothes they were wearing. Her gaze lingered longest on Erin, though, and Christine saw her eyelids flicker.
“You’re Christine, right?” the man said. The way he presented himself—shifting restlessly from foot to foot, his worn Stetson held tightly by the brim—revealed his discomfort in social situations. “I’m LeRoy Dunn, Rafe’s cousin. He asked me to tow your car to the ranch this mornin’. And this here’s my wife, Harriet. She wanted to come along an’ meet you.”
Christine started to rise.
“No, don’t do that,” LeRoy urged, seemingly genuinely concerned at the idea of causing an interruption. “We’re only gonna be here a minute. I came to tell you I had a quick look at your car, and…well, I can’t make any promises. The engine’s got a lot of miles on it. But I’ll see what I can do.”
“If anybody can fix it, LeRoy can,” Harriet said confidently. “As LeRoy said, I’m Harriet.” She extended her hand, her smile friendly yet with a touch of reserve.
Christine clasped it lightly.
LeRoy spoke again. “I also came to ask what you want me to do with the stuff you’ve got stowed inside-in the trunk and on the back seat. There’re some boxes and other things. You want me to bring them all up here?”
Christine did stand now. She felt at a disadvantage sitting down. “No, that’s all right,” she said. “I’ll get them myself.”
LeRoy frowned. “It’s a long way and they’re kinda heavy. I picked one up to see.”
“Still, I’d rather—”
“Let her do it herself, LeRoy,” Harriet said, unexpectedly taking Christine’s side. “If that’s what she wants.”
“It’s what I want,” Christine confirmed.
Two more people joined the gathering, exchanging hellos with LeRoy and Harriet while at the same time eyeing Christine and Erin: an older man, in his late fifties, with salt-and-pepper hair—obviously a Parker, too—and a much younger woman, in her late teens, tall and delicately made; with a mass of copper red hair and gaminelike features. Christine began to feel overwhelmed. Just how many Parkers were there on the ranch?
“We came to see what all the hoo-ha was about!” the older man said jovially. “I haven’t seen Aunt Mae this exercised in months. Not since—” He glanced at the younger woman and shut up.
The younger woman’s face froze for a moment, then with a shake of her head, she put whatever it was behind her and said, “My name’s Jodie Parker. And this is my dad.”
“I’m Gib,” he said, and tipped the front of his hat.
Christine glanced at Erin to see how she was faring. She wasn’t surprised to find the girl slumping in her chair, trying for invisibility. “Yes, well—” she murmured, then couldn’t think of anything more to say.
Everyone else seemed equally tongue-tied. Then Jodie walked over to Erin’s chair and, crouching down beside her, said, “I heard you had quite an adventure yesterday. That your car broke down and you ended up walking and you almost got bitten by a snake.”
Erin nodded without looking up.
“And Morgan gave you a ride to his place in Little Springs on his horse.”
Again Erin nodded. This time, though, she looked up, and Jodie Parker smiled.
Here was someone who didn’t fit into the Parker mold, Christine thought as she watched the young woman interact with her daughter. With her bright hair, willowy frame and mischievous smile, Jodie was a cuckoo in the Parker nest.
“Do you like horses?” Jodie asked.
Scooting up in the chair, Erin nodded vigorously. Instinctively Jodie had known the right tactic to win the girl over.
“We have a horse here-Junior,” Jodie went on. “He’s great for learning how to ride. I learned on him and maybe you can, too. Would you like that?”
Christine stirred uneasily, and after a quick look at her tense expression, Erin retreated to silence.
Jodie followed the direction of the little girl’s glance and frowned. She slowly straightened.
It wasn’t that Christine was against Erin’s learning to ride. It was just…she didn’t feel comfortable letting her get too close too soon to any of these people. She didn’t want her to be hurt if…Christine stiffen
ed her spine. There would be no if!
“So,” LeRoy said, filling in the awkward silence, “how’d you end up at the station-six windmill? What road there is peters out there.”
“We had a map,” Christine murmured.
“Musta not been a very good one,” Gib remarked.
“Who gave it to you?” Harriet asked. “Ira?”
“He hasn’t been here in years.” LeRoy exclaimed. “No wonder you got lost!”
“It might not have been him.” Christine was quick to jump to Ira’s defense. “It was probably me. I must have—”
“What in the name of heaven…” Mae’s voice cracked like a whip, making everyone in the room jump. She pushed her way through the gathering, then turned. “I don’t remember calling a meeting! Did I forget? Or did all of you just decide to come over so you could see things for yourselves? Well, now you have, so get going! Unless you don’t have enough work to do.”
The room started to clear. Mae might be an old lady, but a sharp word from her got everyone bustling.
“Harriet, I’d like you to stay, please,” Mae decreed. “And you, too, Shannon.”
Christine hadn’t seen Shannon slip into the room, but at some point she must have, possibly entering with Mae.
At the door Jodie looked over her shoulder and winked at Erin. A glimmer of a smile touched Erin’s lips, only to disappear when Mae took a seat just inches away at the head of the table.
A subtle signal called Erin to Christine’s side, and they immediately started for the door.
“Where are you going?” Mae demanded.
Christine’s hand tightened on Erin’s shoulder as they stopped and turned. “Back to our room. Do you have a problem with that?”
“I want a word with you. The child is free to go.”
Christine looked down into Erin’s worried face. “If I stay, Erin stays.”
“That might not be advisable,” Mae said darkly.
Christine felt the weight of all three women’s eyes. Was Mae testing her to see what kind of mother she was? What she was willing to expose her daughter to?
West Texas Weddings Page 5