A Home in Hill Country (Harlequin Heartwarming)

by Rustand, Roxanne

  RaeJean nodded decisively, snagged Kristin’s arm and hauled her forward. “Family first, I always say. You two sit here for just a minute. I need to do a fast comb-out, turn off that dryer, and I’ll be back.” She smiled at the newcomer. “Ruth, just set yourself down and have a cup of coffee. You’re a mite early, anyway.”

  RaeJean bustled away, checked each head of hair under a dryer, and scurried back to the woman sitting in one of the styling chairs.

  Kristin hovered at the entryway for a moment.

  “C’mon, Mom. Let’s go.” Cody begged. “The first football practice starts in an hour!”

  “And it’s just on the edge of town. This won’t take long, I promise.” She gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, then smothered a sigh as she sank into one of the pink plastic chairs in the tiny waiting area. Cody stubbornly stood at the door, his lower lip jutting out and his hands jammed in his pockets.

  The diminutive woman at the door strolled to the back of the shop and returned with two cups of coffee, handed one to Kristin and settled her thin frame into a chair in the corner. She tipped her head toward the ledge under the window facing the street. “There’s cream and sugar packets over there in the pink basket.”

  “Thanks. Black is fine.”

  The woman chuckled. “You might change your mind. RaeJeans’s coffee could eat rust off a truck, but leastways it’s hot.”

  Kristin took in her pale skin and faded, silver-streaked blond hair. There was a sharp, observant glint in her eyes as she curved a bony hand around her coffee cup for a quick sip and studied Kristin over the rim. She seemed vaguely familiar, though Kristin couldn’t place her.

  The woman cocked her head, as if she, too, were trying to remember, then she sat back in her chair with a satisfied smile. “I’m Ruth Holden. My husband is the rector at St. Mark’s Episcopal.” She pursed her lips. “I’ll bet you’ve come here for the land giveaway.”

  Kristin laughed. “Good guess.”

  “I’ve been on the Home Free Committee since last fall, and we’ve already had some nice young families move into the area. I think I must’ve seen your photo in that first batch of applications. In fact, I’ll bet you’re—” she pursed her lips for a moment, apparently searching her memory “—Kristin and Cody Peters?”

  She leaned forward and offered her hand. “My husband had a light stroke last spring and was hospitalized in Austin for several weeks, so I wasn’t at your interview.”

  “I hope he’s doing well.”

  “He’s a strong man, determined as can be. He was back in the pulpit within three weeks after coming home.” Ruth’s voice filled with pride. “For over forty years, nothing has mattered to him more than the moral welfare of his flock.”

  Settling back into her chair, Ruth took another sip of her coffee. “I want you to know how pleased the Committee is to see all of you young folks moving into town. Just this month, we brought in a husband and wife who are teachers, a young fellow with a new degree in nursing, and a family planning to raise goats and sheep on fifty acres west of town. You must be the physician’s assistant who’ll be running the local health clinic.”

  Despite occasional visits to Homestead to see her father over the years, the easy familiarity of the small town still caught Kristin unawares. In Dallas and Austin, she’d barely known her neighbors, and people had rarely stopped to chat.

  She nodded. “The land deal is a wonderful opportunity. We’re not actually both the Peters, though. Cody kept his father’s last name after my divorce, but last summer I finally decided to go back to my maiden name. Cantrell.”

  “Divorced?” Ruth blinked, her mouth working. She visibly drew back into herself. “But I thought…”

  “I’m sure it was clear on my application.”

  Ruth brought her hand up to her mouth. “A-and you said Cantrell?”

  “That’s right.” Kristin rose and caught Cody’s hand. “My dad was Nate Cantrell.”

  Her brow furrowed, Ruth looked from the boy to Kristin. So it was happening again. That flash of recognition, the moment of prejudgment.

  Maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea to come back here, after all.

  “I should have recognized you,” Ruth said faintly.

  “I was just ten when I left with my mom. When I came to see my dad, he was usually out working on one ranch or another, and we rarely ever made the long trip into town.”

  “I see. It isn’t…I mean…” Her cheeks flushed pink. “It’s just…”

  Mindful of Cody’s heightened interest in the conversation, Kristin gave his hand a quick squeeze. “I think we’d better get moving, Tiger, so we aren’t late for that practice. I’ll just try calling RaeJean later.”

  At the door, she urged him outside, and then turned back toward the flustered woman. “I’m sorry if I’ve upset you.”

  “No…I mean, yes…” The color in the older woman’s cheeks betrayed her struggle for tact.

  “Whatever you may have thought about him, I do know my father had a good heart.” Kristin held the woman’s gaze. “I’m here because I’m good at what I do, this town needs me, and because I need a new start for my son. My last name should make no difference at all.”

  Ruth’s mouth tightened. “You misunderstand me, dear. There are people who still blame your father for how things changed around here. They might not be so ready to forgive.”

  “IT’S GOOD TO HAVE YOU back in Texas, son.” Leland Havens clapped Ryan on the shoulder, then winced in sympathy as Ryan flinched. “Sorry. I didn’t think. How’re you doing, now? Better?”

  “Fine.” Ignoring the pain radiating down his arm, Ryan took a step back and hooked his thumbs in the front pockets of his Levi’s.

  The years had been kinder to Clint than they’d been to his lifelong friend. Deep creases lined Leland’s cheeks, his hair had thinned to a few long wisps on top. His once imposing, elegant frame no longer stood quite as tall. The man had been Ryan’s boyhood mentor, and had once seemed as ageless as the massive live oaks lining the drive. Now, surely in his late sixties, he’d aged beyond his years and his mortality was all too apparent.

  “I’m glad you could drop in so soon. I imagine a young buck like you would rather spend a Saturday morning on horseback or out on a golf course, eh?”

  He waved Ryan to a chair in the corner of his office, motioned to his secretary from the open doorway, and then sat next to Ryan. “I suppose Garrett hightailed it off to some rodeo for the weekend?”

  “He left late Wednesday for Billings.” Without so much as a fast hello and goodbye for the eldest brother he’d once followed around like an orphan pup.

  Leland eyed Ryan thoughtfully. “Nothing his daddy says gets through to him. He’s heading for a full-body cast if he doesn’t quit chasin’ bulls and gold buckles every weekend.”

  “And the little buckle bunnies, from what Trevor says. I understand Garrett’s been busy leaving a trail of broken hearts from Canada to Houston.”

  “I keep warning him to be careful. All we need is one avaricious gal who knows the Gallagher name, and the potential for bad press shoots to the moon.”

  A valid concern, Ryan supposed. With that deep-dimpled, aw-shucks grin and devilish twinkle in his eye, Garrett had always been a charmer. He’d usually gotten exactly what he wanted while making others feel happy to hand it over.

  “At least Trevor is well settled,” Leland continued. “Nice wife, kids.”

  “And works his tail off, from what I’ve seen so far.”

  Leland took a pair of half reading glasses from the breast pocket of his coat, settled them low on his nose, then studied Ryan over the rim. “He’s a good hands-on manager. He knows cattle, horses, people.”

  “But…?” Ryan raised a brow.

  “He doesn’t have the skills or the foresight to handle the broader picture. We just need to get past the Nate Cantrell incident, put the ranch affairs back in order and hire a permanent manager.”

  “Well, my skills aren�
��t exactly current, unless Dad needs a sniper with an M4 guarding the ranch.”

  A portly secretary dressed in a severe black skirt and jacket marched in with a tray of coffee cups and a small coffeepot. After settling the tray on the end table between them, she bustled out, closing the door firmly behind her.

  Leland leaned forward to hand Ryan a cup, then cradled the other one in both hands and smiled at him affectionately. “Your brothers wanted you here, so look at this as a chance to rest up, after all you’ve been through.” He paused. “You’ve given enough of your life to the service. With your business degree, you could head for Chicago or New York, if you want something besides cedars, sand and sagebrush in your backyard.”

  “I’m still on active duty. I plan to go back as soon as I can.”

  Leland’s sympathetic gaze drifted to Ryan’s knee as he put his cup down. “Maybe you’d like to, but—”

  Ryan struggled to curb his irritation. “After surgeries and rehab, they’re even able to return some amputees to the front lines. I’ll go back, even if I have to be an instructor.”

  “Of course, of course.” Leland lifted his hands in a placating gesture. “Forgive me.”

  Ryan winced. Leland had always kept the best interests of the Gallaghers at heart, and he certainly didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of Ryan’s unpredictable bitterness. “No…the apology should be mine.”

  Clasping his hands loosely in his lap, Leland leaned back and gave Ryan a fatherly smile. “That time when you got your first Purple Heart, a few years ago? There was mention of it at a high school graduation assembly. After that, at least five elementary classrooms started sending letters and gift boxes to servicemen overseas.” He shook his head in wonderment. “Townsfolk filled those collection boxes to overflowing.”

  Surprised and a little embarrassed, Ryan looked away. “At least some good came out of it. I didn’t realize anyone even knew.”

  Leland laughed. “Then you probably don’t remember the Niebauers, who run the Herald. Millicent isn’t bigger than a minute, but she’s got a nose for news and the tenacity of a bulldog. Though, come to think of it, she didn’t get wind of your injuries a few months ago. Just the Purple Heart.”

  “So how bad are things out at the ranch—really?”

  “Really?” He shook his head slowly. “Up until a few years ago, your father watched over both his political career and the ranch with a sharp eye. Nothing got past that man—nothing. Then his vision started failing, but of course being Clint, he never let on. We know Nate got away with at least sixty grand, but the books are such a mess that it could be double that, easily.”

  “Pretty much what Trevor said…and what I found in the forensic accountant’s report.”

  “Clint may be snarling about your arrival, but I’m sure he’s angrier at himself than he is at anyone else. Once he simmers down, he’ll be grateful.”

  “So I’m just supposed to reorganize the bookkeeping system?” Ryan sighed. “That’s something a good office manager would do.”

  “Not with Clint bird-dogging every last step of the way…and it’s not just the bookkeeping, either. You could revamp the hunting lease program, and maybe work on marketing angles that will get it moving. The quarter horse and beef cattle programs probably need some work, as well.” Leland grabbed a legal pad on his desk, ran a forefinger down a list of notes, then set the pad back down. “Whatever you can do while you’re here will help the new manager who follows you. I’ll assist in any way I can.”

  “And the missing money?”

  “Honestly, it’s a lost cause.” Leland splayed his fingers on his thighs. “But if you come across anything—any clues whatsoever—let me know immediately. I’ll get the private investigator on it right away.” Leland studied Ryan over the rim of his glasses again. “The corporation needs that money back, but this situation can’t get out to the press or the sheriff’s office—either way, news will spread. Clint’s political rivals would have a heyday crowing about him ‘allowing’ his own business to end up in such disarray. This next election will likely be his last, and there are still issues that mean a great deal to him.”

  “Right.” Ryan shifted in his chair, wishing he’d taken a couple Tylenol before leaving the ranch. “After all this time, the horses are out of the barn, anyway.”

  “The loss came at a bad time. Remember the K-Bar-C?”

  “The Braxton place. Shares part of our eastern property line.”

  “Place went up for auction twelve years ago. A group of locals formed a consortium, bought it and also picked up some smaller properties to create KC Enterprises. Every one of those investors had dreams of making big money. Some of them poured their life savings into the deal, some mortgaged their own property to scrape enough money together.”

  The K-Bar-C… “Trevor filled me in on some of this already, and I do know Dad and Braxton weren’t the best of friends,” Ryan mused. “Clyde’s place was upstream on the aquifer that supplies the Four Aces, and I vaguely remember Dad ranting about water rights.”

  “Which is why he wanted to buy out Braxton for years. We put together one offer after another, but Braxton hung on to it until he died in his late 80s—out of sheer spite, Clint figured. The heirs scrabbled over the estate and ultimately ran it into bankruptcy. It came up for auction when I was out East for a couple months and your dad was in the middle of some big tussle in the State Senate. It sold to a group of locals.”

  “I can imagine how happy he was when he heard the news too late.”

  “You have no idea,” Leland retorted. “Then just a year ago, the consortium folded. Crazy idea anyway, if you ask me. Drought hit. Cattle prices were down. The partners were up to their ears in debt and way behind on taxes.”

  “So Dad—”

  “This time he knew about it. But he was cash poor, especially after so much money was embezzled. He couldn’t pull a down payment together quick enough, and the town council foreclosed on the property. They’re using it for that homesteader program, bringing in more families to grow the town. Your father is still furious, and he’s had nearly a year to adjust.”

  “Homesteads?”

  “At very low-cost loans that mostly just cover the back taxes, with no down payment. If all goes according to plan, there’ll be hundreds of families sitting on top of that aquifer, drawing water away.” Leland pursed his lips. “The sheriff is on the Home Free committee, along with Frances Haase, the town librarian, Father Holden’s wife, mayor Miranda Wright and Enfield.”

  “Enfield. I can imagine what Dad thinks about that.”

  Leland pushed himself to his feet and started to pace. “Local politics are small potatoes to your father, of course, but those two have been rivals since they were kids. He probably thinks the entire land giveaway deal was Arlen’s scheme to irritate him. It wasn’t, though. Miranda came up with the idea and sold everyone else on it.”

  “I was out riding yesterday and ran across a boy in our east pasture. I figured his family was just renting the old Cedar Grove place.”

  “Nope. You just met your neighbors. Permanent neighbors, that is. There’ll be a lot more coming. And a lot of the property adjoins the Four Aces.”

  “The boy was Kris Cantrell’s son.”

  Leland’s jaw dropped. “She’s back? Does your father know?”

  “That Nate’s daughter is in town? Yes. That she’s a neighbor? I have no idea. I suppose there’s been some sort of notice in the local papers about the homestead awards, but he spends a lot of time in Austin.”

  Leland whistled. “Well don’t that just beat all.”

  “I don’t think she was any happier about seeing me that I was to see her.”

  A muscle ticked in his jaw as Leland drummed his fingers on his thigh. “I know you two were close once. She was a pretty little thing, but Clint said she was bad news.”

  How much had Dad told him, all those years ago?

  “I’m old enough to take care of myself, this tim
e around,” Ryan shot back.

  Once burned, twice shy, his mother had said more than once over the years, and she was right.

  He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “MOM, LOOK! HORSES!” Cody struggled to lean forward despite the shoulder strap of his seat belt.

  “I…see.” Shielding her eyes from the noon sun, Kristin parked in front of their house, stepped out of her red pickup and stared at a grizzled old Mexican—one who was all-too familiar—unloading a pale buckskin from a battered old horse trailer.

  On the other side of the trailer, she could see just the hindquarters of a sorrel standing slant-hipped, its tail flicking lazily.

  And sure enough, a wizened figure in dusty boots and an old gray Stetson soon rounded the back of the trailer. “Howdy,” she barked as she slammed the trailer gate shut with a resounding clang. “I was fixin’ to leave you a note if you didn’t show up in time.”

  “Show up?” Kristin said faintly. “In time?”

  Cody took off running and skidded to a stop just a few yards from the horses. “Wow! Are these for us? You really did get me a horse?”

  Kristin hurried to catch up, grabbing his shoulder before he got any closer. “Aunt Nora—”

  With a dismissive wave, Nora retrieved the horse tied to the other side of the trailer, motioned to Luis, her ranch hand, and, with Kristin and Cody tagging along behind, put the horses into the corral by the barn.

  Cody was clearly thrilled. Kristin felt…stunned.

  “Cool! Can we ride now? Which one is mine?” Cody launched himself up onto the split rail fence and hooked his elbows over the top. “Can I have the tan one?”

  “Buckskin, son. Boots is a buckskin. I figure you’d best ride Rebel, the sorrel. He’s been around the world with kids on his back. No surprises with that’n.” Nora tipped her hat back with a forefinger and studied him. Her sun-cured skin baked to a leathery brown after a lifetime outside in the blazing heat of Texas, she was sixty-three but had looked much older than that for the past twenty years. “Did your momma teach you how to ride, yet?”