Texas Heroes: Volume 1

by Jean Brashear

  He shook his head. “Mitch was right. TV’s not such a big deal.”

  This was not the time for his stubborn streak to rear its head. “Davey, we can’t stay here. We have to pack and leave while we still have enough sun to make it to the car.”

  “You mean today? We have to leave today?” He looked horrified.

  “Yes, sweetheart. Now up and at ’em. You get dressed, and I’ll fix us something to eat.”

  “What about Mitch? I need to talk to him.” The pouting lower lip had made way for a sense of urgency on his face.

  “We’ll write Mitch once we get to our new town, and maybe he’ll come to visit.” Perhaps it could happen that way, though not anytime soon.

  “We can’t just leave without saying goodbye.”

  “David Lee Matheson, don’t argue with me.” Why did this have to be so hard? But she couldn’t explain, not to a five-year-old.

  He looked so forlorn, so unsettled. The air whooshed from her chest. Dropping to a crouch, she held his shoulders. “Davey, Mitch has been very good to you—to both of us. There are grown-up reasons why this is the best thing to do for Mitch, and I have to ask you to trust me on this. We have to leave today, and I need you to help me. I know you care about Mitch. I care about him, too, and that’s why we have to go. He is too kind to us to tell us to leave, but he’s not used to living with other people. We came up here to live with Grandpa Cy, but Grandpa’s gone. This is Mitch’s cabin now.”

  “He would let us stay. I know he would.”

  Not after last night, she thought. Not after what I did.

  “Sweetie, he likes living alone. It’s what he’s used to. And he needs freedom to travel and not worry about us. I know it’s hard to leave Mitch, but sometimes you have to do the hard things for the sake of someone you care about. If you care about him—”

  “I love Mitch!” Davey interjected, blue eyes filling with tears.

  She nodded, drawing him close. “I know you do. So we have to do the right thing and leave now, so he can go on with his life.”

  He burst into broken sobs against her neck. Perrie rubbed his back, fighting back her own despair. They had to do this. There was little she could do to repay Mitch’s kindness, but she could do this for him.

  Steeling herself, she pulled Davey out in front of her. “If ever there was a time to be grown-up, Davey, this is it. Now please help me.” But rebellion still stirred within the heartbreak in his eyes. She made one more effort. “We’ll leave Mitch a note, one from you in which you can tell me what to say and I’ll write it—”

  “I can write my own name and his, too.” Davey’s jaw jutted. They were far from through with this, she could tell.

  “Fine. Then you write those, and tell me what you want written in the middle. We’ll leave the notes, and when we’re settled, we’ll let him know where we are.” It wasn’t quite a lie. Perhaps her letter to the reporter would bear fruit, and Simon would be caught one day soon. Then she would get back her life. And maybe contact Mitch.

  But looking at Davey, she could tell that this was one of the times when her will would just have to prevail. She rose. “Please dress warmly in the clothes I’ve set out. I’ll fix us something to eat.” Then she left the room, knowing she hadn’t crossed the last hurdle.

  But more sure than ever that this was the right thing to do. Davey would only get more attached if they stayed.

  Mitch entered the general store, mentally assembling the list of supplies he would need to take to them, unease a hard knot in his gut at the thought of leaving them there through the winter.

  But he would leave. After last night, one of them had to go. Cy might have given him the cabin, but it had only been because Perrie had vanished from Cy’s life. Mitch was convinced that something had kept her from being there for her grandfather. The old man would have wanted her to have the only thing he’d had to hand down.

  Perrie knew how to handle herself up there. Her strength was almost fully returned. He would make sure there was a winter’s supply of wood and plenty of supplies. He would ask Hank Pearson at the ranger station to check in on them often.

  Maybe he could come back and check himself—

  No. Not a good idea, but it was hard as hell to think of leaving them there. What other choice existed? He couldn’t stay there and not want her. The last days had seduced him, made him wish for a dream. He’d let his damn fool heart open, allowed longing inside. Had let himself pretend that the haven was real.

  But it was only the imaginings of a heart too long unused. He had to get out before there was nothing left of him to save. Rebuilding from scratch again might be more than he could bear. He had to lock the gates now.

  “Hey, Mitch, how ya doin’?” Curly Bondurant greeted him from behind the cash register. “Didn’t expect to see you back so soon. Get much snow up there?”

  “Enough,” he answered. “Already melting, though.”

  “Yeah, might have a decent break before the next one. Here to stock up a little more?”

  Mitch nodded.

  “Don’t know how you stand it, no power or phone up there. Betty would go crazy without her TV or folks to talk to.”

  He’d been alone so long, it had come to seem normal. It was his life. At least until Perrie and her child—

  No. He couldn’t think about how it would feel without them. It was what it was. What had to be. Shaking his head, Mitch headed for the shelves of canned goods, looking for those noodle things Davey had said he liked.

  “Say, Mitch, almost forgot.” Curly walked over and handed him two envelopes. “You got some mail. A letter for you and another one addressed to someone named Matheson sent in care of Cy. You got company up there?”

  “Thanks.” But he didn’t answer Curly, studying the envelope addressed to Perrie. A Boston postmark. Mentally shrugging, he stuck it in his pocket, then looked at the one addressed to him. His heart thumped once, hard.

  From Texas. From Morning Star.

  Mitch’s stomach rose, then plummeted. He didn’t recognize the bold scrawl forming his name. It wasn’t his father’s handwriting—at least, he didn’t think so. He hadn’t seen that in years.

  He couldn’t decide whether to stuff it in his pocket, too, or go ahead and read it. Finally, curiosity won out. He turned toward the door. “I’ll be back.”

  Curly was obviously curious. “No need to go outside to read it. Good light in here.”

  Mitch didn’t spare him a look, just kept walking. Curly’s need for entertainment wasn’t his concern.

  Outside, he leaned against his truck, holding the envelope in his hands, a jumble of feelings tossing inside him. A letter from home, or someone close. But Morning Star hadn’t been home for half his life now.

  His gut told him this wasn’t good news. He wondered how anyone had found him here.

  Finally, he knew he had to read it, whatever it said. Tearing open the flap, he pulled out two sheets of paper inside.

  Dear Mitch,

  It’s been a long time, but I want you to come home.

  Home. The word sank in his chest like a stone tumbling over a cliff. Flashes of memory: his mother dying in his arms, his father’s rage as he told Mitch never to come back—

  Mitch flipped to the last page, to the signature.

  Boone. His brother had been fourteen, raw-boned and all feet, just getting his height the last time Mitch had seen him. How did he look now? And why did Boone want him to come back?

  Longing, swift and sharp, sank claws in his heart.

  He turned back to the first page.

  I don’t know how to say it easy, so I’ll just say it. Dad is dead. His heart gave out. He left the ranch to you and me and Maddie.

  Sam was dead. Mitch couldn’t take it in. The father he had once worshipped…who had banished him forever. Dead. They would never reconcile, never take back the hateful words between them.

  Mitch stared out across the road, seeing nothing. And wanted to howl.

 
He tightened his jaw. Dead was dead. Nothing he could do now. He turned back to the letter, finally noticing the other name.

  Maddie? Who was Maddie?

  Maddie’s my wife. It’s a long story, but she’s Dalton Wheeler’s daughter.

  Dalton Wheeler? The one who had vanished years ago? The ranch had been the old Wheeler place until Dalton’s mother died back when he and Boone were kids.

  Boone, married. Mitch couldn’t get the picture of a gangly fourteen-year-old out of his head.

  You’ll like her, Mitch. And we have a lot to talk about. Dad hired a private investigator to look for you and me both, but you’re one hard sonofagun to find.

  Why had Sam needed to hunt for Boone? As much as Boone had loved the old place, Mitch had always assumed he would stay and take over one day.

  And there’s more. We’ve got a half-sister we never knew about. Long story, but we’re looking for her now.

  Mitch leaned heavily against his truck. A half-sister? Had Sam cheated on their mother? That bastard.

  He closed his sagging jaw. Hell of a deal, dropping only part of a bombshell like that. Boone hadn’t changed much—still knew how to taunt his older brother.

  Mitch shook his head and read on.

  I’m giving you a chance to come back by yourself, but I’ll warn you—I’m coming after you if you don’t show up pretty soon. Dad was wrong to do what he did, and in the end, he knew it. I want my brother back. You belong on this land, same as I do.

  You never should have had to leave. Maddie’s made this place feel like it did when Mom was alive, but there’s one thing missing. You.

  Mitch bowed his head. Jenny would still be there, making it a happy place, if not for him. He couldn’t go back. It was his fault that everything had gone wrong.

  This is your home, Mitch, and you’ve got family waiting. It’s been too long. Besides, I need to show you I can take you now.

  Mitch snorted, and a laugh almost broke through. You and whose army, little brother? Then he read the last line and sobered again.

  I’ve missed you, big brother. Come on back where you belong.

  Boone

  Mitch’s chest ached with a pain sharper than any he’d felt since the night his mother died. Home. Hadn’t he wanted to go there a million times? Hadn’t it been like cutting his heart out to have to leave, knowing he could never return? How many nights had the kid he’d been felt like blowing his brains out or racing off some cliff, just to make the endless emptiness go away, quit eating at his soul?

  Damn you, Dad. Why did you die on me? We can’t ever fix it now.

  And damn me, for starting the whole nightmare.

  Too much was kicking up inside him. He didn’t want to leave the one place that was starting to feel like home. He didn’t know how to go back to the home he had lost. And the last thing Mitch wanted to do was to walk back in that store and think about groceries.

  Which was why that’s exactly what he’d do.

  Shoving the letter in his pocket, Mitch squared his shoulders and headed back inside the store.

  Pulling on the homemade travois Cy had fashioned, Mitch pulled the heavy load through the woods, the cabin’s contours visible now. The long drive had done nothing to settle the turmoil inside him.

  The last person he wanted to see right now was Perrie. Or Davey. They made him feel too much, and feelings had always been the enemy. Always would be. From the day he’d fought with his father and taken off in a rage, life had pounded that lesson into him again and again.

  Don’t feel. Just put one foot in front of the other. If he hurried, there was a slim chance he could pack up and leave before nightfall. He just had to get through the next couple of hours, and then he could be alone again. Put his careening thoughts in order.

  At the cabin steps, he dropped the harness of the travois. Drawing a deep breath, he steeled himself to enter.

  The first thing he saw was their suitcases, stacked by the door.

  Perrie walked into the room, her hands full of Davey’s toys. When she saw him, she froze.

  “What’s this?” he asked.

  “We’re leaving.”

  If he’d had any lingering notion that last night had meant anything to her, this put paid to it. “Where are you going?”

  “It’s not your concern.” But she wouldn’t look at him, her movements jerky, almost feverish as she set the toys on the sofa and began to stuff them into the waiting bags.

  “Do you even know where you’re going?”

  “It’s not your concern,” she repeated, her voice quavering.

  “You don’t, do you?” When she still didn’t answer, the upheaval inside him at last had a target. “What the hell are you doing? What kind of mother are you that you’d just take off with that boy, not knowing where you’re headed?”

  She shrank from his words like he’d punched her, but the pressure inside him was too intense, too primed to blow.

  Still she didn’t answer.

  “What if you get sick again, huh? Do you even have any money to take care of him? And what about that junky damn car you’re driving? What if it breaks down? Are you so desperate to get away from me that you’ll risk your child’s life?”

  He stalked across the floor, looming over her. “What are you running from, Perrie?”

  Her head jerked up in surprise.

  He took a stab in the dark. “It’s Davey’s father, isn’t it?”

  All color drained from her face. “You—you don’t—you can’t know that.”

  “But it’s true, isn’t it? You’re on the run. Tell me why. Tell me what he’s done to you.”

  She shook her head sharply and turned back to her packing. “It’s not your problem.”

  “It is when you’re irresponsible enough to endanger that boy. I won’t let you do it.”

  “You can’t stop me.”

  “I damn well can, and I will if you don’t start thinking of your boy instead of yourself!”

  “I am thinking of him!” she shouted. “That’s why I have to go.” She stalked to the door and jerked it open. “Davey! Come on, time to go now.”

  Mitch grabbed the door out of her hands, slamming it shut. “You are not taking off like this.”

  “I have to.” Her chin tilted stubbornly, her eyes sparking.

  “You don’t have to. I’m leaving. Tonight.”

  Her eyes widened. “This is your place. You don’t have to go. It’s not right.” She pulled the door open again. “Davey, come in right this minute. I know you’re mad, but answer me right now.”

  “Why is he mad?”

  She shot him an accusing glare. “Because he doesn’t want to leave you.”

  Something fast and fierce warmed Mitch’s heart. He would miss the boy, too, but he would be the one to go, not them. Before he left, though, he would grant himself one last pleasure. He would hold the boy once more, as he could never again hold the boy’s mother.

  Perrie reached for her coat, muttering. “That child’s stubborn streak is going to be the death of me, I swear.”

  Mitch stopped her with one hand on her arm. “Let me, all right? Maybe he’ll come to me. Let me talk to him a minute.”

  Perrie studied him, and within her eyes, he saw the faintest flicker that made him want—

  Never mind. Pushing past her, he went outside, calling the boy who had walked into his life and stolen a big piece of an old rusty heart.

  Perrie looked around her when he left, trying to see this place as her new home. It was so tempting, and Mitch had hit at her sore point. She was afraid of taking off with Davey, afraid that she couldn’t hide him well enough, couldn’t make the life he deserved. But she couldn’t rob Mitch of the only home he had. And she couldn’t forget the threat of Simon. Mitch hadn’t asked for that. But maybe…

  The door burst open. “He’s not around here, unless he’s just not answering me. Would he have run off?”

  Fear shoved away the first flood of anger. Would he have run awa
y? Was he that upset about leaving?

  “I don’t know. He’s never done anything like that before, but he was dead-set on seeing you again. Maybe he’s just hiding.”

  “If he wanted to see me, why won’t he answer?”

  A big fist squeezed the air from her lungs. “Oh, God. Simon,” she whispered. What if Simon had him?

  “What did you say?”

  But she barely heard him. Either Simon had found them or Davey was all alone out in the wilderness. All she could think of was the cliff, the bears, all the places around here for him to get hurt—

  Mitch grabbed her shoulders and steadied her. “Stop. We’ll find him. I can track anything. The snow is melting, but he’ll still make easy prints.” His voice sounded absolutely certain.

  “I’m coming with you.” She pulled away.

  He didn’t release her, studying her face. Then he nodded. “All right, but you’ll have to keep up. It’ll be dark soon and the temperatures will drop fast.”

  “I’ll keep up.” Thoughts of her child alone, freezing in the darkness, much less all the other things that could—

  “Stop letting your imagination run wild. You need to stay alert, and you can’t do that if your emotions are getting the better of you.”

  She could see his face forming into its customary mask. Was this how he’d lived his whole life?

  Perrie pulled on her outer gear and dumped out a backpack, placing two blankets inside. Mitch turned away and gathered up his own supplies.

  “You ready?” His face was grim, set into lines of sheer determination. The sight of it lifted her spirits. If anyone could find her son, it was Mitch.

  She wouldn’t let herself think of the alternative.

  “Stay behind me, and don’t talk unless it’s urgent.”

  Perrie nodded.

  “We’ll find him. I promise you that.”

  “I believe you,” she said softly.