Cowboy Lullaby (The Boones 0f Texas Book 6)

by Sasha Summers

  Now...the odds were stacked against him.

  Her scent hung in the kitchen, the ripple of her skirt against his jeans waking his senses up. Every instinct told him to go after her. He wouldn’t. He’d no right. He couldn’t hurt her, hurt them, not again. He wouldn’t survive it this time.

  Her hazel-green eyes never looked at him. He should be relieved. Instead, the hole in his chest ached. He blew out a deep, slow breath.

  “Looks like you never outgrow some hurts,” Miss Francis said.

  Click looked at the older woman, comforted by the presence of Lynnie’s favorite cohort. “Ma’am?”

  “Click Hale, don’t you pretend you don’t remember. Lynnie was plum tore up over what happened between you two. I know you were young’uns, but that doesn’t mean you didn’t love each other.” Miss Francis shook her head. “Doesn’t look like Tandy’s forgotten either.”

  No, he hadn’t forgotten their summer together. Those were cherished memories, long before the heartache of two years ago. He treasured each remembered smile, kiss and sigh. His heart had been whole and fearless, full of purpose and hope. He’d grown up since then.

  Miss Francis patted his hand on her way from the kitchen. “Glad you’re home, son.”

  He nodded, hooked his thumbs in his belt loops as Renata joined him in the kitchen. He looked at her, waiting.

  She held her hands up. “Tandy told us to be nice to you. So I will. For now.” She crossed the room, her hands rubbing his arms. “But don’t think I don’t have questions. Lots of questions.”

  He nodded, not in the least surprised by Renata’s words. Of course Tandy would have told them to be nice to him—that was her way. She put others first, always. He cleared his throat.

  “I’m so sorry about Lynnie,” Renata whispered.

  “Me, too.” Lynnie had been too bighearted and too important to die. How could she leave him, now, when he needed her more than he’d ever needed anyone in his life? What was he supposed to do without her straightforward advice and guidance?

  “How’s life been treating you, Renata?” he asked, trying to get out of his head and away from his troubles—for a few minutes.

  “Life’s good, Click.” She smiled.

  “I’m glad.” He grinned. He wanted only good things for her. He could count the positive forces in his life on one hand. Renata Boone was one of them. “Stonewall Crossing?”

  “Growing.” She shrugged, laughing. “Thanks to my brothers, all settled family men. Toben, too.”

  His brow shot up. Tandy’s twin had been more inclined to take things one night at a time. “Toben? That’s hard to believe.”

  She nodded. “I know. Boy, do I know. But it’s true. And he’s happy. What about you?”

  Happiness had always been a foreign concept to Click. But he was trying. He had a very good reason to try. A reason he needed to collect from Widow Riley before all hell broke loose. “Good,” he forced the word out.

  Tandy.

  Desperation gripped him. She didn’t deserve to have this sprung on her—like it had been sprung on him.

  “Better get out there,” he said, catching Renata’s confused look before he pushed through the kitchen door and down the hall.

  He spied Widow Riley the same time Tandy did, and froze. In the week since little Pearl’s mother had placed her in his arms and left, since he’d learned he was a father, Click felt like he’d been driving ninety miles an hour down an endless pitch-black highway. Now Click realized that highway led him here, toward a horrible, inescapable collision. When Widow Riley had offered to rock Pearl while she slept, he didn’t resist. Widow Riley had experience and confidence, two things he lacked when it came to babies. But seeing the old woman rock his baby girl, while Tandy approached—wearing her sweetest smile—had his stomach in knots.

  “Who is this little doll?” Tandy asked.

  Click braced for impact. He forced himself to move, to think, to remain calm. He’d loved Tandy since he was seven years old. It was one of the few constants in his life. That didn’t mean she gave a damn about him. Still, his daughter’s presence, her age, was bound to wound her deeply.

  “This little angel is Pearl,” Widow Riley said, still rocking. “Isn’t she precious?”

  Tandy placed her tray on the side table and crouched by the rocking chair. “She is that.”

  Click looked at his daughter. She was beautiful. She was also small, fragile and just as confused by his presence as he was by hers. The difference was, he was supposed to be responsible for Pearl.

  “How old is she?” Tandy asked, her finger tracing one round cheek.

  Widow Riley looked at him for the answer.

  “Fourteen months.” Click cleared his throat, his heart shuddering.

  Tandy jumped up and knocked the tray, sending the remaining cake plates to the ground. He stooped to help her when Pearl started to wail. Pearl—his daughter and his obligation. He reached awkwardly for the baby girl, her slight weight in his arms still alien.

  As far as babies went, she was pretty easy. She didn’t cry often, and when she did, a few pats on the back seemed to calm her. A fact Click was thankful for. Chances were, he’d fought back more tears this week than Pearl had. He held her now, whispering to her softly, fully aware that all eyes were on him.

  Again.

  Seemed like his branch of the Hales couldn’t turn up in Fort Kyle without causing an uproar. Not him so much, but his parents. This time, it was on him. Not that he gave a damn about what these people thought—not at the moment. The only person he owed any explanation to was on her knees, cleaning up cake and china from Lynnie’s hardwood floors.

  He’d imagined a dozen scenarios for their reunion. None of them included a funeral or a baby. Shame burned his face and neck. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Tandy. He couldn’t.

  “She’s yours?” Renata asked, kneeling to help Tandy.

  He nodded, his throat too tight to speak.

  The congratulations that followed were a surprise. For years, his presence had been greeted with judgment and gossip. He was no longer a child, but history had his defenses up. Lynnie had been his champion, shushing the whispers and gossip his sudden arrival on her doorstep was sure to kick up. What he wouldn’t give to have her here now.

  Never in his life had he felt so damn alone.

  Pearl hiccuped, sniffed and burrowed against his shoulder. He held her, his hand spanning the width of her back as he cradled her close. “It’s okay, Pearl,” he whispered, patting her.

  “She’s beautiful.” Tandy’s words drew his attention. She was stacking the last of the china on the tray, her hands shaking and her gaze averted.

  “Thank you.” The words were gruff and hard.

  Pearl looked up at him, her light brown eyes full of tears, and her lips drawn into a frown.

  “Hey,” he whispered, her expression softening his agitation. The world was scary enough without being frightened of your father. He knew the nightmare that was. He’d never be that man, never make his child cower in fear or cry from physical pain. Dammit. He forced a smile and wiped the tears from her soft cheeks. “No tears, baby girl.”

  Pearl blinked, her instant smile unnerving him. She shouldn’t smile at him like that, like she trusted him. Like she could rely on him.

  Tandy all but ran from the room, that tray rattling with broken china. Try as he might, he couldn’t stop his gaze from trailing after her. But he stood his ground, bouncing his daughter in his arm.

  “Click.” Scarlett was all smiles, transfixed by the temptation of his baby daughter. Pearl had some sort of magical power, attracting women and making even the meanest sons of bitches smile. “When did you get here? Where’d you come from? A baby? Wow.”

  He glanced at his watch, deciding now was not the time to open the door on questions. He answered one. “Ten mi
nutes ago. Hate that we missed the funeral.” Traveling with a baby was no picnic. Not that he blamed her. Being strapped into that car seat looked pretty damn uncomfortable. Truth is, they’d sat in the truck through the funeral. He followed the procession to the cemetery but hadn’t been able to get out of the car. Men didn’t cry in public. He was confident Lynnie would understand.

  He’d driven his trailer to the back of Lynnie’s place and unloaded the horses into the far pasture—doing it all so he could delay this. “Pearl...” He broke off and shrugged, hoping that would be all the explanation needed.

  He was worn out, emotionally and physically. The house was too crowded, the people too loud and curious. After he fed and changed Pearl, he wanted peace and quiet, a shower, a beer and a soft bed. If he was lucky, he could forget the mess his life was.

  Chapter Two

  Tandy washed every dish in Lynnie’s kitchen. She cleaned out the refrigerator and swept and mopped the floor. She was hiding. She knew it and she didn’t care. Until her cousins were ready to go, this was where she would stay. Cleaning was how she processed.

  And dammit, she had so much to process.

  She’d known seeing Click would be hard. But their past had nothing to do with losing Lynnie. And then... Today had been beyond expectation. He...he was a father.

  Fourteen months.

  If her heart hadn’t already been shredded, this would have done it.

  She’d told him to move on. And he had.

  Wasted no time.

  Fourteen months. Their time together hadn’t been as special as she’d thought—to him anyway. He’d waited, what, weeks? That baby was evidence of that. She’d been catatonic, consumed by sadness. And guilt—guilt that chipped away what was left of her heart.

  He’d been in bed with someone—

  She couldn’t think about it, couldn’t stand it. It hurt. Deep, raw and angry.

  “You’re exhausting,” Renata said, having planted herself on a kitchen stool seconds before.

  Tandy smiled, rinsing out the sponge.

  “I say we go get drunk,” Renata said. “It’s the only option.”

  Tandy shot her a look. “How do you figure that?”

  “My brain can’t stop spinning. I can only imagine what’s going through yours.” Renata’s blue eyes met hers.

  She was pretty sure alcohol wasn’t going to fix a thing. Still, she knew her heart wasn’t the only one hurting right now. “Scarlett’s okay with it?” she asked.

  “She will be.” Renata winked.

  Tandy shook her head and carried the mop bucket out the back screen door, letting it slam behind her. Poor Scarlett—she’d have no say-so in their plans for the evening. But spending a night chatting with Uncle Woodrow and Aunt Evelyn wasn’t Tandy’s ideal way to unwind. She was too wound up. They’d only make it worse. Maybe a drink or two wasn’t a bad idea. Anything to help her forget for a while.

  Banshee jumped up from his place on the deck, pushing his massive head under her hand. She patted him, dumped the dirty water out and leaned against the railing, gasping for breath. The past was over and done with. She had no right to feel anything. None. So her anger was a shock. But she was. Really angry.

  Worse, she hurt.

  I’m done hurting over the past.

  Banshee head-butted her hand, groaning in the back of his throat. She rubbed behind his ear, his silky fur calming her. A little.

  Fourteen months? Fourteen months. She couldn’t wrap her head around it. Didn’t want to.

  “Is that Tandy Boone?”

  Tandy jumped, spinning on her heel. “Brody?” She pressed a hand to her chest. “I didn’t know you were here. Last I heard, you were wheeling and dealing in Dallas, or something.”

  “Just got here. Nothing like a funeral to get people together again.” Brody Wallace’s hug was warm. “I make the trip once a month, or when Dad needs me. He’s never fully recovered from his stroke last fall. Not that he’d admit it or say I was anything other than a nuisance.”

  “You’re being a good son to check in on him so regularly. No thoughts of taking over the family businesses yet?” she asked.

  “Soon, maybe.” Brody smiled. “I came to pay my respects. Lynnie Hale was a rare breed.”

  Tandy nodded. “She was that.”

  “What brings you back to Fort Kyle?” Brody’s brown eyes did a quick head-to-toe. “Not that I’m not glad to see you and all. Who is this?” he asked, nodding at Banshee.

  “Banshee, my best friend, of course. We moved for a new job at the veterinary clinic.” She squinted into the setting sun, the fence between Lynnie’s and Uncle Woodrow’s property visible. And just beyond the fence line sat one of Uncle Woodrow’s hunting cabins. Wildflowers carpeted the space between, vibrant pinks and reds and blues a stark contrast to the rugged beauty of West Texas. Nothing like the rolling hills she’d left behind in Stonewall Crossing. Please God, don’t let this move be a mistake.

  “So you’ll be around for a while?” he asked.

  She shrugged, everything she’d known a few hours ago no longer certain. The job here paid ridiculously well, and she still needed some distance from all the weddings and babies in Stonewall Crossing. She was happy for her family and loved them dearly, but it was hard. “We’ll see.” She rubbed on Banshee then, smiling into his golden eyes.

  “What’s taking so long? You better not be scrubbing the porch or sweeping the rafters—” Renata’s eyes went round when she spied Brody. “Brody Wallace, what are you doing out here?”

  Brody laughed. “Enjoying the view.” He caught Renata in a big hug. “Damn good to see you, Renata.”

  “You, too.” Renata clapped his shoulders. “You should come with us tonight. We can catch up.”

  Brody looked back and forth between them. “Where are you going?”

  “The Tumbleweed,” Renata said. “Drinks are definitely in order.”

  Brody nodded. “I could use a drink. Any other Boones around?”

  Tandy shook her head, knowing exactly what he was asking. “If you’re asking if Uncle Woodrow is here, the answer is no. It’s just me, Renata and Scarlett.”

  He winked. “He’s not real fond of me. Guess it’s the last name.” As far as Tandy knew, the Wallace-Boone animosity began and ended with the current patriarchs.

  “Is that why you’re hanging around outside?” Tandy asked.

  He shrugged. “No point adding more stress to the day.”

  “Agreed. We’ll meet you there, around seven,” Renata said, waving at him before tugging Tandy back into the kitchen. “No more. I’m guessing you’re as ready to go as I am?”

  Tandy nodded. “You get Scarlett, I’ll get the truck.”

  Renata nodded, her blue eyes full of sympathy once more. “If it helps, he’s in Lynnie’s room with...with his daughter.”

  Tandy frowned, straightening. “I’m not hiding from him,” she lied. If she was avoiding him it was because she was afraid she’d cause a scene. Not by yelling, that wasn’t her style. But crying a river of tears was a surefire way to get people talking. Her cheeks were flaming as she headed from the kitchen to the front door.

  “Tandy, there you are.” Miss Francis gripped her arm. “We hoped you’d play Lynnie’s favorite hymn for us. It was too quiet at the service today, what with Mr. Magee’s arthritis making it hard for him to play. Seems wrong, don’t you think? With her love of music and all.”

  She wanted to argue and get the hell out of there. But how could she? Miss Francis was right. She could do this—for Lynnie.

  “Yes. Of course.” With a glance at Scarlett and Renata, she made her way to the piano. She sat, running her finger along the newly polished surface before sliding the lid back. She took a deep breath, stretched her fingers and began. No one needed to tell her what Lynnie’s favorite hymn was. Lynnie had hummed
“What a Friend We Have in Jesus” all the time. She said prayer was really a long-distance call to Jesus, that he was always listening.

  Tandy played, the straightforward notes and simple rhythm flowing from her without thought. She could almost hear Lynnie, knitting in her rocking chair, humming along. Voices joined in, filling the small parlor with song. She sang, too, the words long ago etched into her brain. By the time she was done, there were tears on her cheeks. Happy, thankful tears for the privilege of knowing such a strong and giving woman. Sorrow that such a life force was gone. And yet, she was one of the gifted few to know and love Lynnie Hale.

  “That was perfect, darling girl,” Miss Francis said, pulling her into a tight embrace before Tandy had managed to stand. “She loved to hear you play, loved that you loved music so.”

  Music was a comfort. Thanks to Lynnie, she’d mastered the piano, the guitar, the banjo and the dulcimer. Creating music and lyrics eased wounds and hurts too deep to ever fully heal. “She didn’t give me much choice,” Tandy said, wiping her cheeks. “I’m not sure I ever thanked her for that.”

  Beyond Miss Francis, Renata and Scarlett waited—crying and leaning on each other. Brody Wallace had come inside and had an arm around each of them.

  And Click, stony and rigid, watched her from the door.

  Black hair. Strong jaw. Tall and broad and muscled. Blue-green eyes that pierced her soul. Nothing had changed. Nothing. Except all the pleasure his presence used to stir was replaced with something jagged and sad and cold. She tore her gaze from his, sheer determination the only thing that kept her from breaking down right there in the middle of Lynnie’s formal parlor.

  “I’d say that was the perfect way to end the day. We’d best get,” Widow Riley said. “You need anything, Click? With your baby girl and all?”

  The need to leave quadrupled. She didn’t want to think about Click and his baby girl. She couldn’t. It hurt too much.

  “Yeah, Click,” Brody joined in. “We’re going into town, to the Tumbleweed, if you want to join us?”