Texas Hope: Sweetgrass Springs Stories (Texas Heroes Book 16)

by Jean Brashear

  That he did know. “Yeah. Thanks.”

  “So…how about a poker night?”

  “I could lighten that fat wallet of yours.” But he didn’t feel like poker. “I’m fine, Wiz.” At Jackson’s soft, knowing huff of laughter, he grimaced. “Well, I will be. He’s gone now, and I don’t have to call him if I don’t want to.” He glanced sideways. “I don’t want to. Dad doesn’t deserve to be slapped in the face with what that woman did after she left us.”

  “She’s your mother, Ian.”

  “The only mother I needed was the one you loaned me. Your mom was the best.”

  “That she was.”

  “I don’t miss that other woman. Your mom, now…her, I miss. Anyway, I turned out fine.”

  Jackson mock-punched him in the shoulder. “That’s debatable, QB. Fine, yeah, I guess…just not quite so fine as me. But hey, we can’t all be geniuses.”

  “I kept your scrawny ass out of jail more than once, genius.”

  “Only because your rock-hard head was harder than mine, dude. Let’s go get Mackey. Ris can handle the ranch while we go fishing.”

  Ian shook his head. “I’ve got a ranch to run, too, and you have an empire.”

  “They’ll manage. Get the lead out, QB.” Jackson slung an arm around his shoulder, and they started back town the hill, bickering amiably as they had since childhood.

  Henry and Brenda showed up with the little wagon Bridger Calhoun had built them to carry food over to the cantina.

  “Hey, guys,” Spike greeted them. “What’s up? You get deputized to transport supplies to keep the geeks at bay?”

  Brenda ducked her head, and Henry blushed.

  The two of them were so cute it made her teeth ache. “You know I can come get that stuff.”

  The two exchanged glances. “Things were a little, um, unsettled at the cafe,” Henry ventured.

  “Oh?” Gossip. Nothing she loved better. This little burg might not have a lot of amenities, but there was always something afoot. “Shall I guess? Let’s see…Ruby won the lottery.”

  “Ruby doesn’t gamble,” Brenda said. “Well, except for playing poker with Judge Porter and Mrs. Oldham.”

  “Okay…Pen is moving to China because she spends half her time on the phone with them, anyway.”

  Henry grinned. “Bridger would tie her to a chair first.”

  “I’d pay good money to see that. My bet’s on the shark lawyer. Stilettos win every time.”

  They shared a smile.

  “Okay, stop torturing me. Spill.”

  “Well…” Henry began.

  “Ian has a brother!” Brenda rushed past him breathlessly.

  “Ian? Scarlett’s Ian?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Ruby told Harley not to talk about it,” Henry reminded Brenda.

  The usually timid girl rolled her eyes. “That was before Ian met him.”

  “So what happened?” Spike leaned forward.

  “It was sad.” Brenda subsided. “He seems like a nice man, and Ian’s the best, but…it didn’t go that well.”

  “So Ian had no idea?”

  “Don’t think so. The man—his name is Michael, but I didn’t hear the last name—has the same dimple as Ian and his brown eyes. He’s tall like Ian, too.”

  “He has two dogs!” Henry added.

  “So…what happened?”

  “Ian told him to leave and walked out on him.”

  “Ian? Our Ian?” Crazy how quickly she’d adopted this place she would leave soon. “Wow.”

  “Tell her about Harley and Arnie,” Brenda prompted.

  “Oh, yeah. They’re starting up a radio station. At Ruby’s.”

  Spike blinked. “Say what?”

  “Harley wants a trading post program, and Big D told him how to do it with only a computer and a microphone.” He paused. “Not that Harley even knows how to turn on a computer.”

  Spike snorted. “D! Get in here!” She’d just let the guy taste her latest creation, a brownie that would incite thoughts of sin, and she knew he was working with his headphones on in the next room.

  “Yo, what?” The person named Big D was actually named Damon Griffin, she’d learned, and his nickname was a total misnomer. He barely exceeded Spike’s height—he might be five-foot-six, max, and might weigh even less than her, dripping wet. His black Mohawk with purple tips had immediately endeared him to her, but he lacked her piercings.

  “I hear you’re a media advisor now.”

  “What?”

  She turned to the duo. “How did Ruby react?”

  They both grinned.

  “That bad, huh?” She turned back to Big D. “Are you crazy? Harley and a computer? And Ruby needs all her tables for guests—they stay swamped over there. What were you thinking?”

  A big shrug. “That he asked a question and I answered?” At her glare, he shrugged again. “What, I should just tell the old dude to bite me? We’re supposed to assimilate. Resistance is futile,” he quoted as if he were Captain Picard facing the Borg. “You know how that worked out for Jean Luc.”

  Henry grinned, and Brenda looked confused.

  Spike took pity on her. “Not a Trekkie? You’re better off, trust me. Just be glad you haven’t had to learn to speak geek.”

  Big D smiled. “You could become one of us. So. Easy. For reals.”

  She shuddered dramatically. “You’ll never taste-test for me again if you creep me out like that. Who would want to be one of you weirdos?”

  Big D grinned, but Brenda looked worried about him. “We’re glad you’re here, Damon. It makes Jackson happy that you gave Sweetgrass a try.”

  D practically shuffled his feet, and Spike found herself wondering if perhaps the geek had a little crush on the waitress nobody seemed to know much about.

  Whoa. Henry was bristling a bit. Go, Brenda.

  “It’s not so bad here,” D said. “Except for the whole grass-growing-under-the-feet thing. If we lose wifi, there’s gonna be trouble.”

  “Well, we’d better get back to the cafe. Dinner rush is starting,” Henry said.

  “You working tonight, Brenda?” D asked.

  Henry shot him a death-ray glare. “We all work every night.”

  “You need to get help.”

  “No kidding.”

  “I got some time tonight. Maybe I should come over,” Big D offered.

  Spike snorted. “And do what? Write code for the menu?”

  “He could bus tables,” Henry said. “Brenda winds up doing too much of that because we’re shorthanded.”

  Big D’s eyebrows rose. “I could do that.”

  Spike stared at him. He was no doubt paid several times what a busboy could make. Then she glanced at Brenda, who was blushing again.

  “Come on, Brenda. Ruby’s waiting on us,” Henry reminded.

  “Oh. Right.” She nodded.

  But she glanced back as she followed him out the door.

  And Big D winked at her.

  She stumbled and blushed.

  When they were gone, Spike glanced over. “Dude, what are you doing?”

  “Nothing.” He stuck his chin in the air and turned to go.

  “Don’t mess with that girl. Scarlett and Ruby will skin your hide if you hurt her—if Henry doesn’t clean your clock first.”

  “Whatever. Later, Spike.”

  She watched him depart, then shook her head and turned to load the refrigerator with the meals Ruby and Scarlett prepared for the late-night hours the geek squad worked.

  Then she remembered the radio station Harley and Arnie wanted to start. What the what?

  And what in the world was a trading post?

  This place… For a little spot of nothing, there was seldom a dull moment.

  Chapter Three

  The towheaded boy leaped out of the truck and charged straight for Michael’s vehicle once he parked. “Hi, I’m Eric. Can I see the puppy? Please?” He cast a glance back over his shoulder and muttered something.


  Michael cocked his head. “What was that?”

  A shrug. Eyes looking at the ground. “Before Samantha, I said.”

  Michael glanced up as Mackey approached.

  “Son,” Mackey hid a smile. “You and Samantha have to stop this one-upmanship thing you have going.”

  Eric’s mouth turned down. “But she’s a pain in the—” His eyes shifted to Mackey as the man’s brows drew together. “—Uh, neck. She thinks girls are better at everything.” He made a sound of pure disgust.

  Mackey met Michael’s gaze, humor in his own. He cleared his throat. “Girls are better at some things, son.”

  “Nothing important,” Eric grumbled.

  “Do not let your mom or Aunt Penny hear you say that, not if you want your hide intact, my boy.”

  Just then a stunning redhead, tall and voluptuous, walked up. “Mackey, I’m glad you’re back. Blaze managed to knock down Pablo and rub that wound against the stall front again.” Then she turned to Michael. “Sorry to interrupt. I’m Rissa.”

  When she smiled, Michael had to catch his breath.

  He glanced at Mackey, who grinned and pulled Rissa into his side. “Mine. But yeah…a lot to take in, huh?”

  “Are all the women in Sweetgrass beautiful?”

  “Oh, I like him,” Rissa said.

  “Mom, look—there’s a puppy in here. Come see.”

  Rissa cast Michael an approving glance. “Wow. Compliments and a puppy. You’re loaded for bear, I see.” She followed as Eric jumped up and down and Ajax whimpered, frantic to get out and lick everything in sight.

  “Can he get out, Mister? Please?”

  Michael looked at Mackey, who shrugged. “Fine by me. He can’t hurt anything.”

  “I wouldn’t count on that.” Michael opened the door, and both dogs came spilling out, Monroe with grace and dignity, Ajax with, well, enthusiasm.

  Soon Eric was on the ground with Ajax crawling all over him, licking every bit of skin in sight. Rissa crouched beside him, laughing and accepting puppy kisses while petting the older dog.

  “They take my breath away,” Mackey said under his breath. “My life used to be hot and cold running women and partying nonstop. I thought I had the world by the balls, but…”

  “You’re a lucky man,” Michael agreed, his heart seized by pure envy.

  “You should do this for yourself. I highly recommend it,” Mackey said. “That vixen in Austin—she a candidate?”

  “I think so—more’s the pity she doesn’t. It’s gonna take a miracle to make her see it.”

  Mackey chuckled. “Women. Nothing better in the world…but nothing tougher on a man, either.”

  “Tell me about it.” Michael shook off the longing. “So where’s this colt?”

  “Let me get Ris first. Hey, Red—I didn’t tell you about my present.”

  Eric’s head popped up. “For me, Dad?”

  “In a roundabout way. Blaze needs a good vet to look at him, right?”

  “Right,” the boy responded.

  Rissa’s gaze pinned on Michael, then back to Mackey. “Him?”

  “Him. Among other things.”

  “What other things?”

  Mackey shook his head and nodded toward Eric. “Later, babe.”

  She rose in one lithe move, about a mile and a half of shapely leg in worn jeans and beat-up boots. “Eric, you stay with the dogs, okay?”

  “Sure, Mom.” Eric giggled again and began wrestling once more.

  “Tell me about the colt and what you’ve done so far,” Michael asked.

  They took turns filling him in. “Think you can help, Doc?” Mackey asked.

  “I do.” Then they came to the stall, and Michael eased inside, approaching the colt slow and steady. In no time at all, he was able to get close enough to examine Blaze. “Let me get my bag.” He glanced back. “I carry limited meds with me, but you’ll need more. I can get them from my buddy’s clinic in Austin. But I’ll need to clean this wound and replace the sutures. I hope I won’t need to insert drains, too—this fellow isn’t going to respond well, is he?”

  Mackey rolled his eyes. “Blaze is smart as hell and could be the best I’ve ever trained, but yeah…that’s an understatement.”

  “I can come back every couple of days to monitor him.”

  “Hate to ask you to make that drive,” Mackey said.

  “You’re not from around here?” Rissa asked. “Or, I should say, would you like to be?”

  “Well…that’s complicated,” Michael responded.

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah,” Mackey began. “That’s the rest of the story. He’s Ian’s brother.”

  She stopped dead in her tracks. Her mouth literally gaped open. “Our Ian? He doesn’t have a brother.”

  “Actually, he does. Half-brother, that is,” Michael said.

  “How? He—” Her eyebrows flew. “Sophia? She’s…your mother?”

  “Yeah. But I didn’t know about Ian or that she was married before my dad, not until very recently when my dad passed away.”

  Rissa whistled between her teeth. “Does Ian know?”

  “He does now,” Mackey replied.

  “And he’s not happy about it,” Michael added. “Not that I blame him for practically throwing me out the door. It’s a hell of a shock.”

  “Ian was rude to you? Our Ian?”

  Michael smiled. “Apparently he’s not usually like that.”

  “That’s an understatement. Ian never loses his temper.”

  “Look, I really don’t blame him. Maybe there was a better way for me to break the news, like a letter or something. I just—when I finally knew where he was, I jumped the gun. I’ve wished for a brother my whole life.”

  “Your mother never told you…”

  “I found out by accident. She’s very unhappy with me for wanting to meet Ian. But that’s tough.” He grinned, and Rissa gasped.

  “You have his dimple. And his eyes.”

  “Her eyes,” Michael said.

  “I don’t remember her. I was a baby when she left. He never talks about her. I guess we all thought she was dead or something.”

  “Very much alive.” He shook his head. “I’m not sure what to do now.”

  “He’ll cool off. Honestly, he barely has a temper. We don’t ever see it. And he’s the best. A really good guy,” Rissa reassured. “He’ll be fine.”

  “I need to give him space, I think. I was on my way out of town when I met Mackey.”

  “You could stay here tonight.”

  “I’d better not. I want a long-term relationship with Ian, and I already got off on the wrong foot. Once I treat your colt, I’d better make myself scarce.”

  Mackey glanced over his shoulder. “Uh, about that. I think you’re too late.”

  “Why?” Michael turned and followed the direction of his gaze.

  “Because that’s Rissa’s brother Jackson’s Range Rover, and Ian’s in the front seat.”

  “Oh, boy.” Then Michael chuckled.

  Because, well…what else was there to do?

  Sophia Cavanaugh stood near the foot of the wide staircase in her pristine white foyer and stared out of the beveled glass on the massive front doors.

  This place that once been her refuge, had so soothed her soul, felt too close now, too cold, too…

  She halted before the family portrait over the fireplace in the family room, taken when Michael was twelve.

  He had Ian’s dimple.

  “Oh, Ian…” His name came out a strangled, anguished whisper. She pressed a fist to her chest, just over her heart. She hadn’t let herself say his name in so very long, but he was always there in the space between thoughts, a ghost of memory. Of regret. Of a sadness so deep she could not live if she let it in.

  I have a brother, and you hid him from me. Do you know how many times I would have sold my soul not to be alone? Not to carry the full weight of Dad’s expectation and yours? Just to have someone who understood me, who co
uld—

  Michael was so very angry with her. Her son had never looked at her like that, disgust laced with frustration, anger, fathoms-deep and rich with temper.

  You lied to me. All. My. Life.

  He was gone now, too, straight out this very front door, righteous anger his shield and his sword, all of the minutes and hours and days she’d spent trying to protect him from the past, from the young woman who’d been so weak. Who had run from a good man, from all that was missing inside her, from—

  She doubled over from the pain of her loss. That sweet, bright boy who’d loved her with a child’s pure heart—

  Until the day she’d left him. She covered her eyes with one hand, wrapped the other arm around her middle. All the memories she’d had to lock away to keep from screaming roared back now.

  Gordon. Her cowboy. So at ease on his land, so perfectly suited to his life. Gordon had roots deep as the earth. He’d given them to Ian.

  She’d been so restless. Tense and tired and…lost. Can’t breathe kind of lost. It wasn’t that she hadn’t loved them, both of them. She just couldn’t ever…belong. She had tried. For a long time, but…

  And Gordon wouldn’t let her take her baby with her. The man who’d loved her so fiercely, who’d swept her off her feet…who’d promised that he’d give her whatever she needed to feel at home.

  But when they’d married and gone to Texas, she realized that the vision she’d fallen in love with was a figment. She’d cast Gordon in the role of romantic hero, the cowboy who stood for right and justice, who protected his own.

  Gordon McLaren was all those things. But ranch life was not. It was brutally hard work, an existence that required 24/7 attention. Cattle didn’t let you take off for weeks to cruise the Caribbean or jet to Rome. Gordon’s father had died soon after their marriage, and everything had rested on Gordon’s broad shoulders.

  He hadn’t lied to her before bringing her to Texas, she saw that now. He’d told her exactly what to expect.

  But she’d had stars in her eyes and no direction. She’d seized on her strong cowboy and made up a dream from whole cloth, what it would be like, how she would show him off to her friends, how they would sigh over him, too. She’d done that, and they had—but however much he’d been a true gentleman with those in her world, it had clearly been her world, not his. He was plain-spoken and wouldn’t play their games. He’d been himself, and the women had flocked to him. The men had liked him, a genuine man’s man.