He cleared his throat. “What do you need from me to find my brother?”
Marlowe appeared startled at the brusque interruption, casting a quick, apologetic smile at Maddie. “Anything you’ve got. I don’t always know until I see it. Your father just handed me what he thought I needed.”
The mention of Sam turned the atmosphere strained. Boone wondered exactly what his father had told this man about him. Nothing too good, from Marlowe’s manner toward him.
It didn’t matter. Sam was dead, and it was none of Marlowe’s business what had happened between Boone and his father.
“We’ll go through his office first, then you might want to go through the attic. There used to be boxes of stuff up there. I don’t know if there’s anything that could help you, but my mother never threw anything away, even items that were here when we moved in.”
Maddie’s quick gasp caught his attention. “Before you moved in? You mean, there might be something of my grandmother’s up there?”
Boone nodded slowly, sorry he hadn’t thought of them before. “I think I remember a trunk or something that was in the attic when we first started putting stuff up there.”
Maddie looked poised to race up the stairs that very minute.
Boone held up a hand. “Maddie, I don’t know if Sam kept any of it.”
Maddie rose. “I’d like to see.”
“It’s too hot up there right now, in this afternoon heat. I wouldn’t recommend either of you going up there until morning.”
“What about tonight when it cools down?”
“There’s no electricity up there.”
“What about a flashlight?”
“I don’t know how good the footing is, but there’s a big window if you can wait until morning.”
Impatience jittered in Maddie’s expression.
Marlowe spoke up. “I second Boone. I’ve had to crawl through attics more than once. The heat is usually at least ten degrees higher. It’s already a hundred degrees outside. You’re talking heatstroke up there.”
She subsided, clearly disappointed.
“What are you looking for?” Boone asked.
“Anything I can find that would tell me something about my grandmother or my father.”
“I’ll show you what I’ve gathered in my files, Maddie,” Marlowe offered.
She turned a grateful smile on him, the wattage blinding.
He’s her kind, Boone. He comes from her world, the world you made Helen leave. Boone could see the writing on the wall. Marlowe would find Mitch. Maddie would gratefully return to her life. Hell, they might even wind up in New York together, for all he knew.
The thought turned his voice curt. “I’ll show you Sam’s files, Marlowe. Then I’ve got to get back to the barn.”
“You’ll stay for dinner, Dev?” Maddie asked.
Marlowe beamed. “You’re cooking?”
She nodded.
He turned to Boone. “This woman is feeding you? Do you know how lucky you are? A top-notch chef here in Morning Star, cooking in your kitchen?”
For some reason, Boone remembered radish roses. He glanced at Maddie, seeing her as the outside world knew her instead of a barefoot woman in cutoffs with flour on her cheek.
And he realized that he’d been a fool to entertain the idea that there would ever be a decision for Maddie to make. She wasn’t the woman who’d been living here with him, who petted calves and swung on the porch. That woman was an illusion, just like any person who’s on vacation assumes a persona that isn’t real.
He’d never even met the real Maddie Collins.
With the force of a sledgehammer, it hit Boone that somewhere deep inside he’d been harboring the tiny seed of a dream that could never happen.
Shaken, he retreated. “I have to get back to work. The files are this way.”
With a determined step, Boone crushed the tiny seed into powder.
Maddie stared out the kitchen window at the still-dark sky, her coffee cooling while her thoughts tumbled, unable to land on anything but how much she wished the sunlight would hurry.
Above her, she heard Boone’s steps heading for the shower. She glanced at the clock, judging when to put the biscuits into the oven. She’d been up for two hours. Boone might not want anything she’d cooked, but she’d needed to stay busy.
Too bad Dev hadn’t accepted their offer to stay here last night. He would talk to her, unlike Boone, who had reverted to the silent stranger she had first met.
Too bad Dev wasn’t the person she really wanted to know.
It was better this way, though. Hearing Dev’s enthusiastic response to her food, even when she didn’t have access to the ingredients she would have liked, had reminded Maddie that there was a whole world of people out there that would welcome her back from Nowhere, Texas. Maybe it was only because of her cooking, but that was all right.
She knew people. She would be fine.
But Boone would stay here, locked in his self-imposed prison, haunted by ghosts, some he wouldn’t discuss. He could die an old man here, never venturing farther than fifty miles away.
Stop being fanciful, Maddie. Boone was a grown man who had traveled the world. He would find someone to marry. He would have children. He would be just fine.
But something deep inside Maddie knew different. And that something ached for the man who had taken a couple of steps toward his prison door until the other night.
Now he had slammed the door shut. The Boone who had begun to smile just a little was long gone.
And Maddie missed him.
The shower shut off.
Maddie shut off her thoughts, too. She had one priority right now, finding out about her family. Proving her father’s innocence to everyone.
She opened the oven door and placed the biscuits inside.
Boone smelled bread baking and inwardly groaned. No slipping out of the house without encountering her this morning. When he entered the kitchen, he could see the restless night in her eyes. He nodded and headed for the coffee.
“Two eggs or three?” she asked.
His back turned to her, he sipped carefully. “Maddie, I told you not—”
“I couldn’t sleep. The sun isn’t up yet. Humor me.”
He faced her, studying the lines of strain on her face. “This means a lot to you, doesn’t it?”
She nodded. “Two eggs or three?”
“Three. But there might not be anything up there.”
She shrugged. “If there isn’t, there isn’t. But I have to look. I won’t prowl through your family’s belongings any more than I must to find my grandmother’s things.”
Boone frowned. “I don’t care about that.” But he did care about her almost certain heartache. Sam might not have kept any of it, and anyway, Boone had no idea what had been in the trunk he thought he’d seen so long ago.
“Do you want me to wait for Dev?” she asked.
“Do you think you need a chaperone?”
A quick smile curved her lips. “I imagine I can behave.”
His own lips did the same. “I doubt that, but go ahead.”
Maddie’s head lifted, her gaze searching his. Boone realized that it was the first time she’d really looked at him since the other night.
“Are you teasing me, Boone? You?”
Abruptly, he sobered. “Maddie, I don’t want you getting your hopes up. There might be nothing there.”
“There will be. I can feel it. I know I’ll find something.”
Boone almost sighed. He’d forgotten the flaky gypsy. “It’s really important to you, isn’t it?”
Her chin tilted upward. “I’m just curious, that’s all.”
She was lying. Everything about her spoke of nerves this morning. “Do you want me to go up there with you?”
“Why?”
So I can protect you from what you might find. Or not find. He shrugged. “The boxes might be heavy.”
For a long span she studied him, the silver eyes softening
to gray velvet. “I’ll be all right. I’ll come get you if there’s something too heavy.” With practiced ease, she dished up his eggs and pulled the biscuits from the oven, piling four on his plate.
His hand reached for the plate. She held on, their gazes meeting. “Thank you,” she said softly.
Boone couldn’t take his eyes off her.
Finally Maddie let go. Boone reminded himself of what was real. What was possible. With a nod, he headed for the table.
Maddie climbed the attic stairs, grateful that Dev had called to say it would be this afternoon before he could return, that he’d deal with Sam’s desk then and see if he even needed to search the attic. She really wanted to do this alone, to seek her grandmother’s spirit in a way she could never do if accompanied by a stranger.
Her heart thumped heavily in her breast with every step.
Then she reached the top and just stared.
Across the large attic motes floated in the air, turned golden by the rays of the morning sun. The narrow path between boxes was floored with broad wooden planks, undisturbed under a blanket of years of dust. She smelled the slightly mildewed scent of old fabrics and cardboard. With delight, Maddie filled her lungs—
Immediately she was seized by a fit of coughing.
Such a romantic. But she couldn’t help smiling, eagerly anticipating treasures in this place.
And treasures there were—but none of them her grandmother’s. She found a box labeled in loopy feminine handwriting, “Boone Baby Clothes.” Her fingers itched to open its flaps. I don’t care about that. She remembered Boone’s words. Carefully, she pried open just one flap.
On top lay a pair of tiny brown cowboy boots stitched in yellow and red, so small the soles barely covered her hand. Beneath she could see little garments, but Maddie ventured no further. It wasn’t her right, no matter how longing squeezed her heart. These things belonged to Boone and his future wife. And to his children.
With careful fingers, Maddie closed the box, trying not to think of a little boy with Boone’s golden hair and blue eyes, and moved on.
Bless Jenny Gallagher for her careful labeling. Box after box marked “Keepsakes 1976” or “Mitch Toys.” Maddie wondered if Boone had any idea what a treasure trove lay up here.
A few boxes lay on top, unmarked and jumbled in piles. Maddie opened them carefully but could quickly tell they held papers related to the ranch. Sam must have stuck them up here—instead of the careful folding and packing, these seemed almost thrown into boxes, not a one labeled.
Maddie scoured the attic, lifting box after box, some of them heavy enough that she should have called Boone to help, but she wanted to find Rose’s things in private. She reached the single window at the far end and looked behind her, realizing that she’d almost covered the entire attic.
And found nothing.
Her heart clutched. Boone had warned her, but she had hoped.
Oh, how she had hoped.
She swept the flashlight beam across the expanse, stepping upon a pile and trying to be sure she’d covered it all. An odd shape beneath an old torn, yellowed bed sheet caught her eye. Carefully, Maddie picked her way through the boxes, heart pounding as she removed the obstacles in her way. She barked her shin on one sharp corner but hardly minded, so intent was she upon reaching her last best hope.
Her fingers trembled as she tugged at the sheet, hearing the rip of worn fabric. Maddie drew a deep breath and struggled to be calm and careful. With the steps of a penitent approaching the throne, Maddie moved closer.
It was a very old trunk, the leather cracked with the passage of years, the brass darkened with tarnish. Maddie closed her eyes and prayed that it wasn’t locked.
It was. Maddie looked around her, fighting the urge to cry.
She’d always said she was a good hand with a knife. Hoping Vondell would forgive her, Maddie climbed down the steps and retrieved an assortment of kitchen implements.
Maddie didn’t care, long minutes later, that her hair was glued to her neck with sweat. All that mattered was that she’d heard a click and that the latch had popped open.
Shaking like a leaf, Maddie lifted the lid and looked inside. The faint smell of lavender and mothballs teased her nose. Another yellowed sheet lay over the contents. Maddie lifted it carefully and set it aside.
On the left side lay a stack of books and things; on the right, a pile of fabric—clothing, she guessed. Maddie lifted a black leather scrapbook in her hands, afraid to open it.
Drawing a deep breath, she took a look. On the front page, hand-lettered, was the name Dalton.
Maddie’s heart stuttered. She’d found it. On page two, she saw the tiny dark curl of hair carefully placed inside an envelope turned yellow with the years. On the outside, it read Dalton’s first haircut, age two.
Maddie ran one reverent finger over the lock of her father’s baby hair. When a tear dropped on the page, she jerked her head up, swiping at her eyes. She couldn’t do anything to harm this precious evidence.
It all belongs to you, Maddie Rose. She could almost hear her father’s voice. With a shock, it truly hit her. These things were hers now. She was the last of her line, the last Wheeler.
Maddie Rose Wheeler. Was that who she was? And where did she belong?
She lost track of time as she thumbed through the album, seeing her father grow from infancy to boyhood to football team in high school. In the childhood pictures, she could see some of her own features. In the very few teenage photos, she could see the beginnings of the man she’d known.
She almost thought she could see the beginning of the end, the time when Rose had let Buster Caswell and his poison into their lives. Dalton stopped smiling as life grew more solemn. She couldn’t bear to think of what had been happening to them then.
Some of the photos had been taken at this very house, on the porch outside. She saw her father riding a pony near a barn that she recognized, and suddenly she was struck by a pain so sharp she gasped aloud.
This ranch held her past. How could she walk away from all that they had loved?
But she heard Boone’s voice. You can’t mean to stay. Remembered his eyes revealing how much he needed this place.
Please, Daddy. Grandmother Rose. I can’t stay. Please understand.
But I won’t forget.
Maddie laid down the album and made a mental note to ask Boone to help her carry the trunk downstairs. Then she reached inside for the large cloth item that took up most of the right side. Unfolding it carefully, Maddie cried out as she realized what it was.
A wedding dress. Inside its folds lay a picture of a woman Maddie knew in an instant was her grandmother Rose.
She knew because she might have been looking in a mirror.
Maddie’s eyes filled with tears as she devoured the sight of a tall man who had her father’s build and his dark hair standing beside a woman who looked for all the world like Maddie Rose, dressed in this very same gown with its simple cut, the lace now yellowed with age.
Her knees shaky and weak, Maddie stood and set the picture down with care. She backed away into the small open space and held up the dress, trying to imagine what it would look like on her. With careful steps, she pressed it to her body and closed her eyes.
Oh, Grandmother, how I wish I’d known you.
And that was how Boone found her. He’d come inside since Maddie hadn’t appeared at her usual time. He’d intended only to make a quick sandwich and go back to work, but the day was hot and he’d begun to worry. Deciding to check and make sure she hadn’t passed out from the heat, he’d mounted the stairs, assuming she’d hear his steps.
When he reached the top, he couldn’t speak. Maddie stood in the sunlight holding an ivory gown against her, her eyes closed and tears rolling down her cheeks.
With careful steps, Boone crossed to her. “Maddie?” he spoke softly.
Her eyes opened, showing him a world of such pain and confusion that he reached for her without considering anything b
ut that she needed to be held.
Maddie was always so relentlessly cheerful that he’d come to think nothing could bring her low. To see that he was so very wrong struck him in a way that scattered his resolutions. Maddie needed someone. Right now, it would have to be him.
She nestled into him and sobbed softly. Boone thought at that instant that he would slay dragons to bring back Maddie’s smile.
“Why couldn’t I know her, Boone? Why did I miss so much?”
He had no answers, no way to change the past. So he just held her while she cried.
After a moment, her face turned up to his. In her eyes he saw such need for comfort, such loneliness and despair, that he did something he knew he would regret.
He kissed her.
He only meant it to comfort, to ease her pain, to let her know she wasn’t alone. But one touch was all it took. One brush of lips and he was lost.
Maddie slid one arm out from between them and gripped his shirt in one fist, lifting herself to her tiptoes, bringing back the hunger that never really left him.
Boone forgot about good intentions, forgot about being the wrong man. Forcing himself to go slowly, he licked softly at her full lower lip and heard her intake of breath. A quick prickling heat flashed through him, raising the hairs on the back of his neck. For one instant, an instinct as old as man warned him away, reminded him of danger.
Then Maddie parted her lips and her tongue stroked him back, her fingers pressing into his side, her breasts soft against his chest.
He had to get closer. With one hand he gripped the back of her head, sliding his fingers into the thick fall of dark hair and turning her into his kiss. His tongue slid into the sweetness of Maddie’s mouth and he wanted to stay there forever, to drink of her kind heart, her cheerful soul, to soothe her despair and her sorrow.
Maddie knew only that Boone was here sharing his strength when she couldn’t find her own, that he warmed the cold corners of her anguish and made her feel, for the first time in years, that she wasn’t alone.
His kiss was a balm and a solace, but it was so much more. In his kiss, Maddie found a dark, edgy promise of excitement, of bliss beyond the power of words. Maddie felt the ragged border of Boone’s own anguish and she poured herself into soothing him, forgetting her own pain as she touched the raw edges of Boone’s grief.
Texas Heroes: Volume 1 Page 12