The Rodeo Man's Daughter (Harlequin American Romance)

by White Daille, Barbara

  “I figured.”

  “What’s this all about, Nate? I mean, what’s got you asking the questions? You feeling a need for money?”

  “No. Mom and Gram are always talking about it.” She shrugged. “But I was just wondering.”

  They sat there in silence.

  A minute later, a dark green Chrysler came into view on Signal Street. He could see Joe and Tess inside. As Joe drove up to the bed-and-breakfast and turned into the drive leading around to the back, Tess waved. Nate returned the greeting with a definite lack of enthusiasm.

  He frowned. “Nice to have your mama home,” he offered.

  “Uh-huh.” She slumped back against the railing.

  “Or not so nice?” he asked.

  “She’s always grumpy.”

  “And you’re always in a good mood.”

  She glanced at him, then away again. “Most times,” she mumbled.

  They heard the slamming of the car’s door. Seconds later, Joe turned the Chrysler back onto Signal Street and drove away. After a moment, Tess’s footsteps crunched on the walkway.

  Nate took a quick drink, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and said in a rush, “Are you gonna move here? ’Cause it’s a really good place.”

  Another irony now.

  He’d come back to Flagman’s Folly only to do what he needed to leave it behind him forever.

  He felt a sudden chill, cold as the ice-filled glass in his hands. Nate was already a self-confessed eavesdropper. Was she basing her questions on something she’d heard the adults say about him? He tried a smile. “You sound like your mama now. Next thing I know, you’ll be wanting to sell me some property.”

  “But are you, Caleb?” She stared at him, her dark brown eyes unblinking and as serious as if everything in the world depended on his answer. “Are you gonna live here?”

  The sound of Tess’s footsteps grew louder. The steady rhythm of her shoes on the gravel walkway sounded like a clock ticking a countdown.

  Leaning forward slowly, he set his glass on the tray Roselynn had left on a wicker side table. Then he rested his elbows on his knees and linked his fingers together in front of them. Finally, he looked again at Nate.

  The eager look on her face told him the answer she wanted.

  Honesty would have to work here, too.

  “No, Nate. I just came back for a short while to visit. I don’t belong in Flagman’s Folly.”

  Tess turned the corner of the house. Their gazes met over the porch railing. Her dark brown eyes were as serious as Nate’s.

  But while her daughter’s expression had looked full of hope, Tess’s face couldn’t hide her relief.

  Chapter Eleven

  Early the next afternoon, Caleb followed Tess and Roselynn across Ben Sawyer’s yard.

  After hearing Ellamae’s news yesterday about the potluck at Ben’s place, he’d looked forward to the chance for a relaxed, enjoyable meal.

  Not that he had any complaints about the food at the Whistlestop. Roselynn’s breakfasts and suppers more than satisfied his hunger. But the conversation sure had lacked something lately.

  Last evening, it had been just the three of them. Nate had sat picking at her plate, wearing the most mournful look he’d ever seen on a child. Roselynn had caught on quick and spent most of her time going back and forth between the dining room and the kitchen.

  At least whupping him at checkers had cheered the kid up.

  Since coming back to the inn after her date, Tess had ignored him.

  They took their places at the end of the line wending its way toward one of the trestle tables. The makeshift tables were loaded down with food, which pleased him no end.

  “Looks like enough here to feed a couple of armies.”

  “It will go fast,” Tess said.

  “It surely will,” Roselynn added. “Better take enough first time around, Caleb, so you don’t get done out of it.”

  “No worries about that.” They’d been here awhile now, and after more than a few conversations with folks already, he’d worked up an appetite.

  He’d come today prepared as he always was when meeting with a crowd—same as he had with Nate and her friends—ready to regale them with tales of his rodeo days. To his surprise, he’d received responses similar to those he’d gotten in the shops on Signal Street. The folks of Flagman’s Folly seemed less concerned about hearing his stories and more interested in welcoming him home.

  He couldn’t understand it.

  The line shuffled forward and he followed, conscious of how close he stood to Tess. So close he could see a few tiny freckles on the back of her neck.

  As he loaded potato salad and pickled beets onto his plate, he contemplated the situation with her.

  Ever since their arrival, he’d expected her to put as much distance between them as possible. Yet except for helping Roselynn bring their contributions into the kitchen and later setting out the food, she’d stayed by his side nearly every minute. He couldn’t understand that, either.

  As he and Tess turned away from the trestle table now, he said, “Guess we’re going to have a time finding somewhere to sit.”

  Before she could answer, Nate came running up. She and her friends seemed less inclined to hang around him today, probably due to all the games they’d had going on.

  “Mom, do you know where Becky is? I can’t see her anywhere.”

  “And you won’t. The Robertsons aren’t coming today. They already had plans to go up to Santa Fe.”

  “Oh, rats.” Frowning, Nate stomped off.

  Her mention of the Robertsons had jogged his memory. “It surprised me,” he told Tess, “when you introduced me to Sam’s wife outside the Double S yesterday. I didn’t know he had a kid, either.”

  “Neither did he.”

  Raising his brows, he waited for her to say more, but she turned her back on him without another word. He could get that she put up defenses when they were alone out in the desert, when the heat of the day couldn’t hold a candle to the heat between them inside the car—no matter how high she cranked up the air.

  But even this afternoon, in front of other people, she had seemed to want nothing to do with him, had acted about as friendly as she had during their meals at the Whistlestop. So why was she sticking to him like a burr under a horse’s saddle?

  Again, he scanned the area. Ben definitely had invited a crowd.

  A good thing, too. With so many people around, he hoped eventually to get his distance from Tess. Something he sorely needed. Any time he got near her, he couldn’t help trying to get a rise out of her. And he always succeeded. But he had a feeling one of these times his teasing would come back to bite him.

  If it hadn’t already.

  He hefted the plate of food in his hands and looked around again.

  “Caleb. Over here!” Ellamae waved at them from a group of lawn chairs near one corner of the house.

  As he headed across the yard, Tess fell into step beside him. It wasn’t until he’d gotten closer to Ellamae that he saw who had taken one of the chairs—an older man with a tanned and wrinkled face and snowy white hair arranged in a style that would’ve looked good on a country singer back in the Fifties.

  Judge Baylor.

  Too late to back out now. Caleb gripped his paper cup of punch and tried to smile. Tess took one of the vacant lawn chairs. He set his food on the other one and reached down to shake hands with the judge.

  “Didn’t think y’all would miss the festivities,” the man drawled, focusing on the pile of chicken wings on his overflowing plate. “I’ll say one thing for Ben Sawyer. He does know how to entertain in style.” He chomped down on a wing and grunted in approval.

  Then, true
to Caleb’s memory of the judge, he proceeded to talk at length while the rest of them ate.

  Caleb dug in to his potato salad.

  Beside him, Tess pushed the food around on her plate, much as Nate had done last night and again this morning.

  After a while, Judge Baylor wound down, took a long swig of sweet tea and sat back in satisfaction. Caleb found himself being inspected from head to foot, as if the judge had just seen him for the first time. “Well, now, aren’t you a sight to behold.”

  He tensed. “That supposed to be a compliment, Your Honor?”

  The judge’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, son, I do believe it is. In any case, you’re looking considerably better than the last time I saw you.”

  “You remember that far back?”

  “Why, it wasn’t that long ago. You were trussed up like a side of beef in that hospital bed you spent so much time in.”

  Startled, Caleb grabbed the plate that had begun to slide from his lap. “You’re saying you saw me in the hospital? In Dallas?”

  “You spent time in any other one since I’ve known you?”

  He shook his head.

  “That would be the place, then. You were an awful sight. Though I must say—” the judge’s bushy brows—the same snowy white as his hair—lowered in a frown “—you keep on with that high-and-mighty tone of yours, I might find your inability to converse back then a marked improvement over today.”

  “Sorry,” he muttered. “I’ve had a lot on my mind.”

  “I’ll bet,” Ellamae murmured. She put the last bite of her hamburger into her mouth and eyed him as she chewed.

  Tess kept her attention glued to her plate.

  Obviously neither of them planned to rush to his defense.

  He focused on the older man again. “I never knew you’d come to Dallas.”

  “Yep. Me and Sam Robertson both. We’d heard the news on the television, of course, but folks in town wanted to know firsthand how you were doing.”

  He had to struggle to find his voice. “No one told me you’d visited.”

  “That’s understandable. We didn’t leave our calling cards.” The judge picked up another chicken wing. “The nurse said they had you knocked out and you’d stay that way for a while and likely not get up to much when you came to.”

  “It might have been days before they would ease back on the medication, the nurse told them,” Ellamae said, taking over the story. “So Sam and the judge turned tail and came back home again. They’d seen enough to tell everyone how you were doing.”

  “Poorly,” the judge stated.

  Hell of an understatement, there. “Yeah, that’s a stretch of time I’d just as soon forget.”

  From the corner of his eye, he saw Tess shift, stabbing her fork into a pile of potato salad she hadn’t yet touched.

  “Ellamae, you’re needed!” called one of the women from over near the house.

  She waved in answer and began to struggle out of her lawn chair. “Well, you two just go on reminiscing about old times. Tess, you come along with me. I’m sure whatever’s up over there, they can use an extra pair of hands.”

  Tess hesitated as if doubting she ought to leave. He frowned once again. Did she think he needed a guard? When she found him staring at her, her cheeks flushed pink and she staggered to her feet. The plate of salad nearly went flying.

  As the two women hurried away, the judge turned back to Caleb. “Quite a few folks have said you’ve stopped in to visit with them in town.”

  “Yeah,” he said, grinning. “We hit Signal Street. Tess said I’d gone on a real spending spree.”

  The judge shrugged. “Didn’t hear anything about that.”

  Caleb stopped grinning and looked at him suspiciously. “No one mentioned it at all?”

  “No. Just said it was good to see you again.”

  “Huh.” Lost in thought, Caleb gathered up his own plate and his empty punch cup. Judge Baylor knew everything that happened in this town. Why hadn’t he heard the news?

  “Sit back, boy, take it easy.” The judge waved his hand lazily. “No sense rushing off just yet. I don’t see anybody starting up with the horseshoes, like at Sam Robertson’s place.” He sounded disappointed.

  “I wouldn’t know about that.” But he could sure envision the older man flinging horseshoes with the same energy he used to throw out sentences in his courtroom.

  “No, you never were at any of the Robertsons’ barbecues, were you?”

  “We weren’t that friendly,” he said, intending to leave it at that. But his tongue overrode his good sense. “I can’t think why Sam would have come to see me in Dallas. Or you, for that matter, Your Honor.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, that was a good part of your problem all along. You couldn’t think.”

  “I didn’t need to.” The paper plate crumpled as he tightened his grip. “Everybody in town made it obvious what they thought.”

  The judge grasped the arms of his lawn chair to pull himself upright. He leaned forward, his expression grave. Instead of the heated glare Caleb remembered from the past—and expected now—he found the man staring at him with something like compassion in his eyes.

  “We watched you with some concern, true,” the judge said. “Couldn’t have been easy, growing up with a mama who gave her favors away like yours did.”

  Caleb narrowed his eyes. “You don’t hold anything back, do you, Your Honor?”

  “I did then. You’re man enough to hear it now. And I’ll say it again. You didn’t think much in those days.” He rose from his chair. “Folks saw you as a boy with a bad home life and—no surprise—a bad attitude to match.” He shook his head. “What worries me now, son, is it seems like getting thrown from a bull and cracked to pieces still hasn’t knocked that chip off your shoulder.”

  ONCE THE FUROR in Ben Sawyer’s kitchen had calmed down, Tess could finally make out why her aunt had received such an urgent summons. The women had required her services to settle an argument over the proper way to prepare nuts for a pie. She had to smile. In her own way, Aunt El held just as much power in this town as Judge Baylor did in his courtroom.

  “Looks like my help’s not needed, after all,” she said to no one in particular. “I’ll just slip back outside…”

  On the porch, she stood and shook her head at herself. Maybe she had misjudged Aunt El. She and Roselynn had a long history of butting into things that didn’t concern them. It hadn’t taken much of a stretch to wonder whether, for some reason of her own, Aunt El had used the trip to the kitchen as an excuse to get her away from Caleb and Judge Baylor. Had she let the knowledge of her aunt’s reputation color her judgment?

  What about her suspicions of Caleb? Why had he come back to town? With his off-again, on-again interest in property, she was beginning to doubt his claim about wanting to buy a ranch. The thought of not making a sale to him made her hands suddenly clammy.

  The fear of what he might really be up to made her entire body break out in a sweat.

  She recalled what she’d overheard him saying to Nate last night. What he’d deliberately wanted her to overhear, she was sure. I don’t belong in Flagman’s Folly.

  The memory of those words made her heart ache.

  He had probably always felt that way, and she’d never realized it. He’d left town—and left her—because of it. Hadn’t he said so, that night outside Gallup when she’d gone to find him? More words to make her heart ache.

  All he’d worried about was his prize. His fame.

  That’s what’s important. That’s what will save me from going back to some one-horse town with one-horse folks in it.

  Even back then, ten long years ago, he’d felt too good to stick around. Too good to be with her.

  Shaken by those
thoughts, she descended the porch steps and forced her gaze to the corner of the house. Then she froze. The lawn chairs now had new occupants. She ground her teeth in frustration. Regardless of Aunt El’s intent, she’d managed to separate her from Caleb. Where was he?

  “Tess?”

  She started at the sound of her name and found Ben Sawyer standing beside her. “Sorry, I didn’t see you.”

  “Obviously. Looks like you have something on your mind. You had a heck of a scowl on your face, too.”

  “I was just squinting. The sun’s so strong today.”

  “Uh-huh. Everything okay in the kitchen?”

  “Yes, fine. And there’s still plenty of food, too. The women of Flagman’s Folly won’t let you down.”

  “They do things right, don’t they? Why do you think I had this potluck?”

  So much for getting away from her suspicions. And he’d just asked a loaded question. “Why did you, anyhow? What made you decide to have the potluck today?”

  He shoved his hands in his back pockets and shrugged. “It’s been a while since I hosted a get-together for folks.”

  “Uh-huh. And who suddenly reminded you of this long passage of time? Were you by any chance chatting with Aunt El?”

  “Yeah, I saw her here earlier on—”

  “No, I meant before today. Did she put you up to this?”

  “Huh?” He blinked.

  She laughed. “Come on, Ben. You handled much tougher questions on the sixth-grade debate team. Aunt El talked you into having this potluck, didn’t she?”

  No answer.

  She had opened her mouth to repeat the question when she noticed him staring across the yard. She’d lost him completely. Something else had caught his attention. Or someone. She turned to look, too.

  Out by the roadside past the other parked vehicles, she spotted a new arrival. Dana’s blue van.

  She smiled with relief. When she’d mentioned the potluck to Dana yesterday afternoon, her friend had shown an odd reluctance about committing. Tess had done her best to convince Dana to come. She’d kept to herself too much since Paul’s death. It wasn’t good for her or for her kids.