Cowboy Lullaby (The Boones 0f Texas Book 6)

by Sasha Summers

  “She was stubborn,” Uncle Woodrow mumbled.

  Tandy bit back a grin then. She remembered how frustrated Woodrow got with Lynnie the few times his cows brought down her fences or when she’d let him water his cattle at her spring—on her terms.

  “She had to be.” Aunt Evelyn sipped her tea. “To hold her own with the men hereabouts.”

  Tandy agreed. From Scarlett’s nod, so did she. She wished Renata was here. She made conversation seem easy. But Renata’s hangover had other plans, like staying in a dark, silent room in bed.

  “Breakfast was wonderful,” Tandy said, ready to get the day started. “Guess I’ll head out to the hunting cabin and start unpacking.”

  “Take her to the south field. Best shape,” Uncle Woodrow said, not looking up from his coffee.

  “When he says best shape, that’s not saying much,” Scarlett whispered.

  Tandy laughed. “I’m sure it will be fine.”

  “Good, good.” Uncle Woodrow nodded. “Dinner is at six, around the campfire. Booked solid, so join us.”

  “Thanks for the invite.” Tandy smiled.

  Both of her uncles ran successful guest ranches. Most of her summer holidays and school breaks were spent at one of the two places. She knew hard work was required to keep things successful. Uncle Teddy’s Lodge was more a large-scale bed-and-breakfast. They offered low-key excursions like birding and wildlife walks, horseback rides, hayrides and the occasional campfire.

  “Bring your guitar, too, Tandy. Nothing says cowboy like a serenade under a sky full of stars,” Uncle Woodrow added. “Should be a clear night.”

  “Will do,” Tandy agreed. For some reason, singing to strangers was always easier.

  Unlike Uncle Teddy’s Lodge, there was nothing low-key about Fire Gorge Dude Ranch. The large-scale ranch brought people from all over the world to experience the Wild West firsthand. They had over-the-top theme nights, a mock cattle drive, dances and overnight trail expeditions for those who really wanted to “rough it.” The last few years, Uncle Woodrow added upscale dining, yoga and fitness classes, and a spa for those “city folk willing to spend big money for mud baths and fancy food.” It seemed to be working—business was definitely booming.

  Tandy suspected the dude ranch existed mostly to keep Evelyn happy. Her aunt loved talking and meeting new people. Her uncle hated travel almost as much as he hated strangers and lengthy conversations. The fact that the dude ranch kept his wife happy and brought in a pretty penny was a bonus her uncle surely appreciated. But their real wealth came from the oil they’d discovered some years back. That and the cattle Uncle Woodrow kept.

  “If you need a thing, you let me know,” Aunt Evelyn said.

  “I’m sure it will suit just fine.” Tandy smiled.

  Scarlett trailed behind her from the dining room, speaking only once they were out of earshot. “Something’s up.”

  “I sort of got that,” Tandy said. “As long as I have four walls, running water and some electricity, Banshee and I will be fine.”

  “That might be all you have.” Scarlett shook her head. “That cabin is in rough shape.”

  Thirty minutes later, she, Scarlett and a bleary-eyed Renata bounced down the rutted dirt road to her new home. Tandy’s enthusiasm nosedived. The cabin was one room—and in need of substantial TLC. But the bed was big and comfy and there were large windows in three of the four walls. The fourth wall was the kitchen, a collection of burnt-orange appliances and curling wallpaper. A pop-up table was built into the wall, collapsing flat when not in use. Two wooden chairs hung on pegs from the wall to prevent overcluttering the space. To say furniture was minimal was an understatement. The only additional piece was a large recliner. She could function with her closet-sized bathroom. At least there was a teeny-tiny shower stall, a toilet and a sink that dripped. None of that was the problem.

  What bothered her was the view.

  This was the sad cabin she’d spied from Lynnie’s back porch. Now, Lynnie’s house occupied the majority of one window. Not just any window either. If she lay on her big comfy bed, that was her view.

  “No curtains?” she asked Scarlett.

  “We’ll head into town and shop.” Scarlett shook her head. “Might as well start a list.”

  “I’ll stay here and hold down the bed,” Renata offered, collapsing into the armchair.

  Banshee sniffed his way around the perimeter of the room and sat, staring at her.

  “Pass inspection?” she asked Banshee. “No rats? Or snakes?”

  “Or armadillos,” Scarlett added. “I hate armadillos.”

  Banshee’s tail thumped.

  “Doesn’t look like it. Good news,” Tandy said, rubbing her dog behind the ear and refusing to look out the window. Here she was, surrounded by an ocean of waving gold grass and wildflowers and rugged cliffs. Yet, just beyond the barbed-wire fence sat Lynnie’s house. And Click’s large gray truck.

  “Lightbulbs,” Renata said, pointing at the ceiling fan overhead. The light fixture was bare.

  “And candles,” Scarlett said, looking under the sink. “I’m thinking you’ll lose power whenever a storm rolls through. Candles are cheaper than batteries.”

  Tandy grinned. Leave it to her ridiculously wealthy cousin to be cost-conscious. “Candles sound good. And matches.” She opened the small wood-burning stove built into the far wall. “Wood, too, I guess.”

  “How about we bring in your gear and see what’s missing,” Renata said from the chair. “And when I say we, it’s understood that I’m not moving from this chair.”

  Tandy laughed.

  “Maybe you can bring in the bedding first?” she groaned, draping an arm across her eyes.

  Scarlett giggled. “That’ll teach you.”

  “Oh, I’ve learned my lesson, I promise,” Renata moaned. “No tequila. And no men. We should start a club.”

  Tandy shook her head. “I’m getting my stuff.” She propped the front door open and headed for her truck, Banshee at her heels. “What do you think?” she asked him. “Lots of room to run. Peace and quiet—”

  Banshee whimpered, staring at the fence line.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, following his gaze.

  The hot West Texas wind carried the distinct sound of crying to her. A baby crying. She slowed, glancing at Lynnie’s house. Click was there, slowly making his way around Lynnie’s porch with Pearl in his arms. He was bouncing her, almost dancing with her—but Pearl kept right on crying.

  Banshee whimpered again. He loved kids—loved them. Tandy had taken him to every babysitting gig she’d had, so it was a natural development. Somehow the dog had determined that, since he lacked a herd to care for, his job was wrangling babies and children. And now there was a baby in need. The dog stared at her, golden eyes shimmering.

  “Hate to point this out, but you’re my dog,” she said. But poor Pearl was wailing. Her dog wasn’t the only one with a weakness for children. She sighed and gave up. “Go on.”

  Banshee took off, his tawny coat a flash in the tall grass, knocking wildflowers flat as he made a beeline for Pearl. Tandy waited. The minute Banshee reached Lynnie’s porch, he barked and ran around Click’s long legs. Pearl’s wails came to an abrupt stop.

  And Click laughed.

  She swallowed hard and turned back to her truck, tugging her bag from the back with so much force, she wound up falling on her butt. She sat there, fighting laughter—and tears—taking slow calming breaths.

  “What can I carry?” Scarlett asked. “You okay?”

  She pushed off the ground. “I’m fine. A dork, but fine. Grab what you can.” She grinned. “Bedding is in that suitcase.”

  Scarlett reached inside for the bag. “You sure you’re going to be okay out here?”

  “It’s not so bad,” Tandy said, inspecting the small cabin. Truth be told, it
would be nice to have the space.

  “I’m not talking about the cabin.” She nodded at her neighbors. “What if he stays?”

  Tandy shook her head, impersonating her uncle Woodrow as she said, “Let’s not put the cart in front of the horse.”

  “I can’t believe you just said that,” Renata said from her spot, leaning against the door frame.

  “It was scary good,” Scarlett agreed.

  Tandy smiled, hooking her backpack over one shoulder and lugging a large suitcase with the other. She’d lived too much of her life worrying over Click Hale. That was going to stop, now.

  * * *

  CLICK SHIFTED PEARL to his hip and unhooked the gate between Lynnie’s and Woodrow Boone’s properties. A gate he had put in years before. It was rusty after sitting so long, but a solid push had it swinging open. How many times had he and the girls met up after the moon was high? They’d been damn lucky never to have run into a rattlesnake or javelina—or any other trouble. Those were happy memories. When he came to Lynnie’s, he’d pretend that this was his home and life was easy and carefree.

  “Da-gee,” Pearl said, reaching for Banshee and kicking her little legs.

  “Doggie.” Click nodded, repeating her words.

  She smiled at him. “Da-gee. Do-gee. Da-gee.”

  He laughed. “You like that doggie?”

  Banshee stopped, looked back at them and took off.

  “He wants us to follow him,” Click explained. He didn’t know enough about babies to know if Pearl listened or not. Half the time he thought she understood everything he said. Others, not so much. Like when he was trying to rock her to sleep at 2:00 a.m.

  “Da-gee?” she asked, leaning forward in his arms, searching for Banshee.

  “He’s over there,” Click said, pointing. “Right there. Banshee,” he called.

  Banshee came trotting back.

  “Da-gee!” Pearl squealed.

  Banshee barked, making Pearl jump. Click smiled at her wide, startled eyes.

  “Doggie said hi,” he said. “Say hi, Pearl.”

  Clearly, his daughter wasn’t sure she liked the barking part of the dog. Her little mouth was puckered. The excited kicking and hand waving had stalled out, too.

  “Hi, doggie,” he repeated, smiling. “Hi.”

  She looked at him. “Hee, da-gee.”

  Banshee barked.

  “See, he likes it.” Click nodded.

  Pearl nodded. Whether she was agreeing with him or doing what he did, he wasn’t sure. But she wasn’t crying, so he was satisfied. How she’d react to leaving Banshee with Tandy was another matter. How something so little could make such a loud noise was beyond him. Pearl had champion lungs.

  “Howdy,” Scarlett said.

  He nodded. “Banshee showed up. Didn’t want Tandy worrying over him.”

  “I sent him,” Tandy said, patting the dog on the back. “Sounded like Pearl needed some distracting. He loves kids.”

  Click couldn’t have been more surprised. “You sent him?”

  She glanced his way, barely. “He gets upset when he hears a baby cry.”

  “That makes two of us,” he said.

  Did she smile? A small smile, but a smile nonetheless.

  He knelt, holding Pearl’s hands while she found her footing. Banshee ran up, sniffing her up one way and down the other. Pearl thought this was hilarious—even when she ended up sitting in the grass.

  “Banshee.” Tandy’s tone was soft. “Gentle.”

  Banshee looked at Tandy and sat, then resumed staring at Pearl.

  “He’s smart.” Click was impressed.

  “Da-gee,” Pearl said, pushing herself back onto her feet and pointing at Banshee.

  “He is,” Tandy agreed, watching his daughter and the dog. “And he loves the attention.”

  Click’s lungs emptied at the smile Tandy gave his daughter. Warm and real, sweet and carefree. The way Tandy should look.

  “Since you’re here, lend a gal a hand?” Scarlett asked. “It’s heavy.” She nodded at a large box in the back of the truck.

  He nodded. “You moving out here?” he asked, inspecting the cabin with a critical eye. It leaned to the right, the whole damn building. Hell, a strong wind would probably knock it over. He pulled the box to the edge of the truck and lifted it onto his shoulder.

  “Me? No,” Scarlett said, hurrying into the cabin.

  He hesitated. Pearl was following Banshee in a circle, but with his hands full, he couldn’t carry her and the box.

  “I’ll keep an eye on her.” Tandy’s voice was soft, but her smile was gone.

  He closed his eyes, wishing there was a way to ease the tension between them. “Thank you.” He carried the box inside the cabin and placed it on the floor. Renata was sprawled across the bed, a towel folded over her eyes. Other than the even rise and fall of her chest, she wasn’t moving.

  “Recovering?” Click asked Scarlett.

  “She’s just trying to get out of work,” Scarlett said.

  Renata giggled. “It’s working, isn’t it?” Then she groaned.

  He peered around the cabin. If the outside had been bad, the inside was worse. “Who’s moving in?” He bit back the “and why” he wanted to add.

  Renata sat up, the towel sliding from her face. “Tandy. You and Tandy are going to be neighbors.”

  “I’m pretty sure my dad is up to something,” Scarlett said with a sigh. “I’m just not sure what. Yet.”

  He’d stopped listening after You and Tandy are going to be neighbors.

  Lynnie’s lawyer was headed out that evening, to go over the particulars of Lynnie’s will. He didn’t know how long he and Pearl had before they’d be back on the road, looking for a home base. He’d hoped they’d have longer than this—time to get sorted out. Having Tandy for a neighbor was bound to complicate that. “She’s moving out here?” he asked, shifting so he could see out the open front door.

  Tandy was kneeling next to his daughter, tickling Pearl’s face with a flower. The sight took his breath away and turned him to stone. That, right there, was all he’d ever dreamed of. The two of them and the family they’d created. But his dreams were based on a different baby girl. Amelia. The baby girl who had kicked and rolled inside Tandy’s belly, reminding them she was coming whether they were ready or not. They’d wanted her so bad...loved her so much. He’d held her once, blinking back the tears so he could etch every detail of her too-still features into his mind.

  She’d been perfect—a mix of him and Tandy and pure love. Letting her go had been the hardest thing he’d ever done. Tandy’s sobs still woke him, frantic to ease her.

  But he couldn’t make it better—for either of them. Their baby girl was gone.

  He gripped the door frame until the grief subsided.

  “Click?” Renata asked.

  He ran a hand over his face, swiping away all traces of his heartache before they saw them. “Yeah?”

  “You okay?” Scarlett asked.

  He nodded. “Yep.” He pushed off the door frame and headed outside. He smiled at Tandy and crouched by his daughter. “What’d you find, Pearl?”

  Tandy was so caught up in his daughter, she forgot not to smile at him. “A feather. A flower. And this smooth rock.” She offered the rock to Click.

  Click took the smooth oval stone from her hand, ran his thumb across its surface—still warm from her touch.

  “Rock?” he said to Pearl. “Rock.”

  Pearl grinned at him. “Da-gee?”

  Banshee’s tail thumped.

  “I get the impression he understands?” Click asked.

  “Rock,” Tandy repeated, taking the stone from Click and pressing it into Pearl’s hand. “Rock.”

  “Ra,” Pearl said. “Ra.”

  Tandy clapped her han
ds. “Yes. Rock. Good job, Pearl.” She stroked her cheek. “Rock.”

  Pearl clapped her hand, dropping the rock in the process.

  Click bent forward for it, the same time Tandy did, and they ended up knocking heads hard. “Damn, Tandy, I’m sorry,” he said, rubbing his head.

  Tandy sat back, her hand pressed to her head. “Accident.”

  Pearl burst into tears. Banshee was up, climbing over Tandy to get to the baby. His tail slapped Tandy in the face—over and over. Tandy’s laugh rang out as she leaned out of Banshee’s tail radius. Pearl stopped crying, pushing herself into Tandy’s lap and smiling up at her. She reached up with one tiny hand, stroking her cheek just as Tandy had done to her.

  Click’s heart throbbed, the tenderness on his baby’s face the sweetest offering a person could receive.

  Tandy’s forehead furrowed as she clasped Pearl’s hand in hers. Click heard her ragged breath, the slight hiccup in her laugh, and ached for her. Somehow, she managed to smile and press a kiss to each of Pearl’s fingertips. And that smile, Tandy’s smile, lit up the evening sky.

  Chapter Five

  The moment Pearl touched her cheek, Tandy was done for. Why that smiling baby girl picked her, Tandy couldn’t fathom. There was no prompting or ulterior motive. Pearl wanted her. For the first time in so long, something cold and sad shifted to let the sunshine in. Maybe it was the way Pearl toddled after her on unsteady legs, reached for her with tiny fingers splayed, or hugged her calf whenever Tandy stood still. Whatever the cause, Tandy couldn’t fight it. She didn’t want to.

  Even if it was taking her twice as long to unpack.

  “I didn’t mean to stay. Just wanted you to know where Banshee was,” Click said from his place on the floor, wrench in hand. “Least the sink’s not dripping.”

  “And you’ve kept Banshee occupied,” she said, nodding at Banshee. Her dog lay at Click’s side, his golden gaze tracking every move Pearl made.

  “He was always herding little ones in Stonewall Crossing,” Renata said, wiping out the kitchen cabinet.

  “I guess I didn’t think about that.” Tandy glanced at her dog. “Hope he doesn’t get too lonely out here.”