West Texas Weddings

by Ginger Chambers

  Morgan closed the distance between them, and almost as much to his surprise as to Mae’s, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gave a gentle squeeze. She felt so fragile. “Everything’s going to work out just fine, Mae,” he said softly.

  She said nothing, but she did pat his hand.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHRISTINE RETREATED to her room after leaving Morgan and Mae. The vague headache that had been threatening had caught up to her, full force. Stretching out on her bed, she closed her eyes.

  She wished she’d never gone downstairs. She could have done without witnessing Erin’s growing attachment to Morgan. Not to mention her own…What should she call that silent exchange with Morgan? All she knew was it had touched deep within her. And his reaction, his reaching out to her, not sensually, but sensitively, had made her tremble. Still made her tremble.

  She jerked upright. No! This was extremely dangerous ground for her. Ground she had trod once before and didn’t want to again.

  All those years ago she’d been at a particularly vulnerable stage in her life, just as she was now. Filled with the need to be well-thought-of, to be believed in. To be loved.

  No! She jumped to her feet and went into the bathroom for an aspirin. What was wrong with her? Had she taken leave of her senses? But then, wasn’t thatthe problem? Her overactive senses?

  She swallowed the aspirin, then stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her face still looked much as it had when she’d just turned sixteen. When she’d met the boy, a whole year older, who had come to mean so much to her. And who, when he’d learned of the baby he’d helped create, had run frightened, denying responsibility and citing her mother’s behavior as her own. And to make matters worse, he’d spread nasty rumors about her around their high school.

  Christine turned away from the hurt-filled image in the mirror and dragged herself back to bed. Maybe if she caught up a little on the sleep she’d missed last night, she’d feel more settled emotionally and not be so.so irrational.

  CHRISTINE DID FEEL BETTER upon awakening a couple of hours later. She decided to ignore much of what had happened that morning and concentrate only on the positive.

  She set out to find LeRoy, to thank him personally for repairing her car. But he wasn’t around the garage or the barn, and when she stopped by Harriet’s, she discovered the reason.

  “Rafe needed him to help keep an eye out in one of the pastures,” Harriet said. “You’ve heard about the rustlers working nearby, right?” When Christine nodded, she continued, “Rafe needs all the extra men he can find right now. He’d even get Gib up on a horse if he thought it would do any good, but Gib would soon be off it sketching. Did I tell you he’s a painter? He used to keep it a secret—from Mae, at any rate. The rest of us knew. Mae still thinks it’s a waste of a grown man’s time.” “Is he any good?” Christine asked.

  “I think he is. He does Western scenes. Get him to show you some of his work sometime. It’d make him happy if you did.”

  “What does he do around here?” Christine asked. “I rarely see him except when he’s coming or going from Mae’s.”

  “That’s because Mae’s the one who keeps him hopping. Jodie gets a little impatient with him because he lets Mae order him around. And she’s right. He should stand up to her more. But then—” she shrugged “—it’s the way he is. Easygoing.”

  The sound of children’s voices in the backyard caused Harriet to turn. “I hate to be the one to break this up, but Delores called a little while ago. Jessica’s daddy is planning to phone her after lunch, so she needs to go home.” She smiled as Jessica—the only blonde in the group—ran up to get into place outside the wide kitchen window. “They’ve practiced and practiced this. It’s set for tomorrow, you know. After Sunday dinner. The invitations will be given out this evening. Erin has yours.”

  Recorded music blared and Jessica stepped away from the house, her steps measured, like a bride coming down the aisle. She clutched a wilted daisy, and a little in front of her, Gwen scattered pretend flower petals. Both walked toward Wesley and Erin, who waited in front of a fan-shaped flower trellis.

  Christine smiled. “They look like they have it down pretty pat.”

  “They do, except for the occasional disagreement or disaster. Earlier, Gwen decided she wanted to be the bride. Then Erin told them all that the bride should walk down the aisle on her hands.” Harriet laughed and shook her head. “Honestly, I don’t know where kids get some of these things!”

  Christine knew exactly where Erin had gotten that particular bit of whimsy.

  Harriet reached for her car keys hanging on a board by the back door, then went over to the stove to remove a pot from the burner.

  “I can take her, if you like,” Christine volunteered. “I mean, you’re busy cooking, and LeRoy was nice enough to get my car running. Let me do it. I promise I won’t get lost again.”

  Harriet grinned. “Well, it’s a little hard to get lost going over to Little Springs. If you set off on the right road, you’ll find it.” She paused. “Your driving Jessica would be great, thank you. If you’re sure you don’t mind.”

  “I’d like to help,” Christine said.

  THE CHILDREN’S PLAY ended on a chorus of groans and pleas to let them practice one more time, but Harriet was adamant. “I promised your grandmother, Jessica.”

  Of course Gwen and Wesley had to come along for the ride, as well as Erin. After they’d all trooped to the car and she’d settled them inside, Christine got behind the wheel. Someone—LeRoy?—had cleaned and polished it inside and out. It hardly seemed like the same vehicle. And when she turned the key and the old engine sprang instantly to life and actually began to purr, the impression increased. She smiled in delight.

  Little Springs was just as Christine remembered it. The sudden greenness of a clump of trees, then a weathered set of corrals, a barn, a few outbuildings and a low stone house. Morgan Hughes’s family home.

  Christine shook her head. She wasn’t going to think about him.

  The front screen door opened and Delores Hughes stepped outside, frowning in puzzlement at the strange car. But once Christine got out, Delores’s frown was replaced by a smile. Especially when the children piled out after her.

  “Oh! So it’s you!” she said, coming to greet them, wiping her hands on her apron.

  “My car’s just been repaired, so I thought I’d try it out,” Christine said, unsure of her welcome. “Harriet gave the okay for me to bring Jessica.”

  “Of course,” Delores said, her eyes, so like Morgan’s, moving curiously over Christine.

  What had Morgan told her? Christine wondered. Or had he told her anything? The woman’s gaze switched to Jessica.

  “Jess, why don’t you take the others inside and get them a soda? And listen for your daddy’s call. He talked to Rusty and Mindy earlier. This one’s just for you.” Jessica did as she was told, but not without dragging her feet.

  Delores shook her head as she watched her granddaughter move slowly inside. “Here her daddy’s calling her special, and she acts like it’s a terrible trial.” She sighed. “Oh, well, they’ll be together soon enough. Then Russell can try to start making up for some of the things his kids have missed along the way.” She glanced at Christine. “Would you like some coffee?”

  Christine’s first impulse was to refuse. But as had happened the last time she’d been here, she soon found herself agreeing in the face of the older woman’s resolute hospitality.

  The children had taken over the kitchen, so Delores led Christine out onto the back porch. It was shaded and, even in the middle of the day, relatively cool. A round metal table with two matching chairs were set off a distance from the doorway.

  “You make yourself comfortable,” Delores invited, “while I get the coffee going.” Then she disappeared back into the kitchen, only to reappear minutes later, nodding approval that Christine had chosen the chair farthest from the door. “I’ll probably have to be up and down like a
Jack-in-the-box seein’ to the kids. I tell you, at my age, it’s almost too much. I can barely keep up with ‘em. But—” Delores leaned closer “—to tell you the truth, I’m going to miss the little rascals when they leave. It’s going to be so quiet around here. Too quiet.”

  “When do they leave?” Christine asked.

  “Their daddy’s coming down for the big wedding, then he’s going to take ‘em back. So it’ll be the first of June.” Delores sighed.

  A loud cry of protest made her hop up. She disappeared inside again, and Christine could hear her saying, “All right. That’s enough!” Then, after a pause, “Jessica, you pour your sister more drink than that. Now, all of you, sit at the table and behave.” Finally, a few seconds later, far more sternly, “I mean now, Jessica!”

  Delores came back bearing the coffee on a tray.

  “That girl,” she said, shaking her head as she sat down. “Her daddy’s got a handful coming. But he can handle it, I think. Now that the worst is over.” She slid a mug across to Christine. “A nasty divorce,” she explained.

  Christine nodded.

  Delores added both sugar and cream to her coffee and while stirring it said carefully, “Harriet tells me you’re holding your own over there, in spite of Mae’s being on the warpath.”

  “What does Morgan tell you?” Christine asked, unable to stop herself. Did she truly want to hear what Morgan had confided to his mother?

  “Not a lot. I wish he’d say more, but he’s too well trained.”

  Christine nodded again. This wasn’t such a good idea. She should have dropped Jessica off and kept going. She didn’t want to know anything about”Trained in what?” she heard her wayward self question.

  “He’s a lawman of sorts. A detective. He hunts down rustlers for the Texas Cattlemen’s Association. That’s a federation of ranchers who’ve banded together to put a stop to…”

  Delores continued to talk, but she’d lost Christine. Christine was concerned with only two pertinent words: lawman and detective.

  “A…a lawman?” she repeated huskily.

  Delores nodded. “He’s assigned to a region in the panhandle that keeps him pretty busy. Lots of activity up there, but then, I suppose there’s lots everywhere. People who’d rather profit off someone else’s hard work than do the work themselves. Frankly, I’m relieved he’s back. I’d keep him here if I could. What he does can be dangerous. He’s had more than a few close calls.”

  Christine stumbled to her feet. “I…we…we have to get back,” she said.

  Delores frowned. “Are you all right? You look a little pale. Maybe you should stay sittin’ down. Drink some of your coffee.”

  “I—I had a bad headache earlier. I thought it had gone away, but suddenly…”

  “Then you shouldn’t be driving, that’s for sure! Come on.” Delores moved around the table to collect Christine, placing a strong arm around her shoulders. “You come inside out of the heat and lie down for a little while in the cool. You can use mine and Dub’s room.”

  “No, no…I’m fine, really. I’d rather—”

  “Just for half an hour. That’ll probably make all the difference. And don’t worry about your little one or Wes and Gwen. They’ll be fine. I’ll give them lunch along with my crew and call Harriet to let her know what we’re doing.” She took Christine through to a small bedroom where she quickly pulled the curtains and fluffed a pillow. “You just rest for a while until you feel better.”

  Once she was alone, properly lying down as Delores had insisted, Christine stared blankly at the ceiling. This short excursion to bring Jessica home was going from bad to worse. Her excuse of a headache—which she didn’t have—had only gotten her in deeper.

  What concerned her most, though, was why learning that Morgan was a professional investigator had created such havoc inside her? She had no reason to be afraid of him or of what he might find even if he did take it in mind to investigate her. She wasn’t trying to pull a fast one on the Parkers. She hadn’t stolen what she’d been accused of stealing in Houston.

  Only, why hadn’t she heard about his profession before this? Why had no one thought to tell her? Had there been a conspiracy to keep her in the dark?

  Also, why would hearing that his mother worried about his safety cause her to—

  No! No! No! It wasn’t that! She didn’t care for him. Not even the tiniest little bit. Not in any way.

  She hopped off the bed, straightened her jeans and shirt, ran a hand over her hair, stiffened her spine and marched from the room. She had no idea how much time had passed since she’d gone in there, but it had been more than enough.

  Dub Hughes, Morgan’s father, was now in the kitchen with the others. While the children finished their lunch at the table, he perched on a stool at the narrow bar just off the kitchen work area, munching a sandwich. His right arm, held in place by its brace, was unusable. “Well, well, look who’s here,” he drawled when he spied her standing in the doorway.

  Christine smiled tightly. Erin, she noted, had eaten very little, and when she looked up and saw her mother, she ran over to her.

  “Are you all right, Mommy?” Erin asked worriedly.

  Christine smiled. “I’m fine. Much better now. I think it was the heat.”

  Delores studied her, pausing while dishing up several small bowls of ice cream. “Are you sure?” she asked. “You don’t look all that well.”

  The phone rang and Delores hurried to answer it, then she called Jessica from the table. “You can have your dessert later, Jess, after you’ve talked with your dad. Why don’t you use the phone in our bedroom? It’ll be quieter.”

  The girl mumbled something that sounded like assent and left the room.

  “You want a sandwich?” Dub asked. “It’s from a good side of Parker beef.”

  Christine declined, then said, “I think we should go just as soon as the children have finished their ice cream.”

  “What do you have to rush?” Dub asked. He looked better than the last time Christine had seen him, not as drawn. “Mae keepin’ you on a tight rein? How’d you like meetin’ her? She a surprise to you?”

  Christine met his seemingly placid gaze, but she could sense the sharpness of the mind behind it. She answered slowly, “I think Mae could surprise anyone.”

  “Well, you must be holdin’ a pretty good hand, since she ain’t sent you packin’ yet”

  “Dub!” Delores warned.

  “It’s the truth!” Dub declared. “If she wasn’t, Mae would’ve seen her off the ranch after the first five minutes.”

  “That’s the Parkers’ business,” Delores maintained. “Christine, would you like some ice cream yourself? Or something else to eat?”

  Christine refused again as Dub continued, “The Parkers’ business is our business.”

  “Not about who gets a share in the place,” Delores retorted.

  “It’s been the same all my life. If you’re a Parker by blood, you get your one share when you turn twenty-one. If you’re not, you don’t. And the shares can’t be passed on to an outsider.”

  Christine spoke up. “By that reasoning, doesn’t that mean you’re an outsider, too?”

  Dub’s eyes narrowed. “We’ve never claimed to be family.”

  “But you consider yourself a part of the Parker Ranch.”

  “By virtue of several generations’ blood and sweat, yes. But there’s a difference. We don’t claim to own any of it”

  “That’s enough, Dub,” Delores said. “You forget—little pitchers have big ears. Now,” she said to the children at the table, “anybody for seconds?”

  Of course they all agreed, their attention quickly turned to the unexpected treat and away from what the adults had been talking about. Even Erin’s attention.

  Christine met Delores’s gaze, and the two women shared a silent affinity.

  AFTER RETURNING to the compound and leaving Gwen and Wesley in Harriet’s care, Christine and Erin walked up the curving drive to Mae’s
house. Erin had been quiet throughout the drive back, breaking her silence only when she’d said goodbyes to her friends. Now she spoke what must have been on her mind.

  “Mommy,” she asked, “are we going to get to stay here?”

  Christine had been preparing herself for such a question. “I seem to remember, not too long ago, you wanted to leave.”

  “That was in the beginning. Now I like it here, Mommy. It’s like Ira said. I know I haven’t gotten to go riding outside the corral yet, and I haven’t helped gather cows like he did. But I’m learning to ride. And I’m making friends.”

  Christine stopped where the drive met the pathway to Mae’s house. She knelt down on one knee so she could look directly into Erin’s eyes. “Honey, I wish I could say yes and mean it, but…I’m not sure. There are things I can’t control. Things that maybe I won’t be able to change.”

  Erin’s dark eyes had tears in them. “Don’t they like us, Mommy?” she whispered.

  Christine’s heart flooded with love for her child. She wanted to protect her from all hurt. Keep her safe, keep her whole, keep her just as sweet and innocent as she was at this moment. “If we have to go, it won’t have anything to do with you, sweetheart. Or with me, either, really. It’s just that Ira…tried to do something nice for us, and he may not have been able to, because some rules were made a long time ago that say he can’t.”

  “Didn’t Ira know about these rules?” Erin asked softly.

  “I don’t know. Most important, though, is that he really cared for us, so he tried.” She rubbed her daughter’s thin arms and forced her tone to be brighter. “But we don’t know what’s going to happen, do we? Everything might work out fine—the rules might not count—and we can stay here forever. That’s a better way to look at it, I think.”