Lonestar Homecoming

by Colleen Coble

  Poor, poor man. Only Cid knew the demons that drove him, just as she was the one who had to face her demons. “I haven’t always made the best choices in life. Neither have you. But we can change.”

  “What is this—a sermon?” He rolled his eyes.

  “I can understand you wanting to help your dad.You’ve done that. He’s free.You can start a new life now, Cid. Let me go. I have children to raise.”

  Listen, please listen.

  His jaw tightened. “You nearly got me killed, Gracie.”

  “No, you nearly got yourself killed.You’re the one who chose to get involved with the cartel.You’re the one who laid a plan to use me to free your dad. And you’re the only one who can walk away now.”

  “It is too late for that. I must take my place at my father’s side.”

  She heard the regret in his voice. “Do the right thing, Cid. Let me go.”

  His gaze held hers, then broke away. He shifted his weight and glanced at her again. She held her breath while she awaited his decision. The moment passed when the glint returned to his eyes, and his lips hardened.

  He grabbed her arm. “You will not confuse me, Gracie.The time for talk is past. Come.”

  Her failure to turn Cid from his course hit her harder than the realization that her life was in danger. She almost started to walk with him, then she stopped and plopped onto the sand. “I’m not helping you do this.”

  He yanked cruelly on her arm. “Get up.”

  She ignored the pain and sat down in the rough sand. Her broken wrist throbbed. Lightning lashed the sky again, and a few drops of rain struck her face. “No.You’ll have to carry me.”

  He waved the gun in her face. “I could shoot you where you sit.”

  “You won’t.Then you couldn’t continue to punish me.”

  Cursing, he grabbed her under the arms and began to drag her toward the truck. “This is going to take all night,” he said, panting.

  She dug her heels into the sand as hard as she could and slumped with her full weight to slow down their progress.

  “I’m more trouble than I’m worth, Cid,” she said. “This won’t be the end. I’ll fight you at every turn.”

  His breath labored in his chest from her weight. He dropped her on the sand and glared down at her. “If you do not get up and walk, I will find Hope.”

  Glaring back, she said, “I won’t let you use fear to control me anymore.” The clouds let go overhead, and rain began to pummel the desert.The wind blew the drops in a stinging curtain against her face. “You’d better hurry or you won’t get across the wash before it floods.”

  His eyes widened, and he glanced back toward the truck. Gracie prayed for a flash flood to thunder down the canyon. Or a bolt of lightning to distract him. Something to change his mind. Surprisingly, she found she wanted him to change his mind for his well-being, not just her own. Revenge and bitterness would consume him if he let it.

  When she first heard the rumble, she thought it was thunder. Then Cid’s head jerked to the right, and his face twisted into a snarl. She peered through the sheets of rain and made out something moving. A four-wheeler in this storm? Swiping the deluge from her face, she squinted at the form on the seat.

  Michael clutched the steering wheel with both hands and rode the machine to intercept them. She wanted to leap to her feet and dance. He was alive.The fire hadn’t taken him and Rick. Her joy was short-lived, though, when she saw Cid pull his gun from his belt.

  She stumbled up from the sand and leaped onto Cid’s back. “No!”

  “Get off me!” He whirled in a circle, trying to dislodge her.

  Gracie grabbed for the gun, but it was out of her reach. Cid fell on top of her onto the sand, and the impact drove the air from her lungs. She struggled to pull in oxygen. Her hands fell from his neck, and she lay gasping, with the rain running into her mouth and nose. Rolling to her stomach, she coughed up the river of water. She got to her hands and knees and flung her dripping hair out of her eyes.Where was Michael?

  After she staggered to her feet, she found both men rolling in the sand. The gun lay nearly submerged in a gully made by the driving rain. She grabbed it and pointed it at Cid, but there was no opportunity to use it.The men were too close.The rain stopped as quickly as it had started, but lightning continued to rip the sky.The men rolled and grunted.

  Michael was on the bottom, with Cid’s hands on his throat. His knee came up and dislodged Cid, who rolled into a ditch.

  “Black widows!” Striking at his shirt, Cid staggered across the sand.

  Gracie winced. He would be in intense pain very shortly. She thought the spider bites would slow him down, but he leaped at Michael again, and the two rolled into a struggling heap. Stuffing the gun in the waistband of her jeans, she tried to find a large rock she could use to hit Cid with, but there was nothing but wet sand.

  The truck.The pipe wrench. She ran toward the vehicle, pulling out the gun again for protection against Cid’s father. On approaching the truck, she saw no sign of him. The vehicle had been abandoned in the middle of the wash, bogged down by wet sand. She splashed through the water, then climbed into the back and found the wrench. It would be heavy enough to knock out Cid.

  Before she could exit, the truck started and rolled forward with a jerk. Gracie lurched and fell when the truck veered and accelerated. She crawled to the tarp and saw Michael running toward her. Cid must be driving. She gained her feet and grabbed the side of the tarp to steady herself.

  She heard Cid moan, and the truck stopped. She stuck her head out and peered toward the cab. She could see his ashen face in the mirror. His eyes were closed and he moaned again. Even after all he’d done to her, she pitied him. Though she’d never had a black widow bite, she’d heard stories about the pain. He’d fallen into a nest and likely had multiple bites. Even with medical attention, he would probably die.

  “Gracie!” Michael screamed.

  She turned her head toward him and gazed into eyes filled with terror.

  “Jump!” Michael pointed and waved to her left.

  Gracie saw what caused the fear on his face.A wall of water bore down on the truck as it splashed through the wash. She had only moments to escape its massive power.Without stopping to think, she leaped from the back of the truck and hit the sand. Even as she ran for the bank, she knew she wasn’t going to make it.

  The roar of the approaching water barreled down the wash like water in a pipe. Desert mountains rose on either side. She’d be unable to climb out with the water tumbling her along. Flotsam rode the crest of the waves and the floodwaters would hold even deadlier missiles under the surface.

  She caught a glimpse of Michael’s panicked face and charged toward him with all her might. The wet sand sucked at her feet, and she seemed to be running in slow motion.Almost there. Stretching her hand forward as far as she could without tipping over, she snatched at his open palm. He reached down toward her. Her fingers grazed his, then his hand closed on hers. He yanked her up as the water encased her feet. They fell back on the bank. Struggling to catch her breath, Gracie lay on top of him.

  The ground rumbled under them from the newly swollen river rushing by. She buried her face in his wet shirt.Tears choked her. Such a close call.

  She bolted upright. “Hope!”

  Michael sat up with her still in his arms. “I found her and sent her on to Rick. She’s fine.”

  Gracie turned to stare down into the roiling waters.There was no trace of the truck or Cid. “He’s gone.”

  “Yeah. Are you hurt anywhere?”

  She shook her head, then laid her cheek on his chest. “I’m so tired. And so glad it’s over.”

  He pressed his lips against her forehead. “I thought I’d lost you.”

  “I thought you died in the fire. No, scratch that. I was sure if you’d died, I would have felt it.” She lifted her head. “I confronted him, Michael. I decided I wasn’t going to run anymore. I appealed to his better side and told him he didn�
�t have to keep making wrong choices.”

  “He didn’t listen, did he?”

  “No. But I knew I had to do it. I had to quit running. I had to take control of my life and face my own decisions. I did a sit-down strike.”

  His lips curved. “A strike?”

  She laughed, remembering Cid’s face when she refused to walk. “He was dragging me to the truck when he saw you.When you came to save me.”

  He cupped her face in his hands. “You saved me, Gracie. Your sweetness, your love. I let the truck with all the weapons get away. You’re all that matters to me. The battle will go on this year and next year and the year after that.We can live to fight another day as long as we’re together. Let’s go home.”

  His lips brushed hers, then his arms swept her into a fierce embrace. “Anywhere you are is home to me,” she whispered.

  EPILOGUE

  RESIDENTS OF BLUEBIRD CROSSING MILLED ABOUT THE PATCHY LAWN OUTSIDE the church. Gracie stood with Michael at the cake table under the tent. Her wedding dress billowed around her in the hot breeze. She couldn’t believe how many people from town had shown up.The church had been packed for the wedding, and best of all, her father was on hand to give her away when she and Michael repeated their vows in a real church.

  The three weeks since their ordeal ended had flown by. Estevez had become suspicious when no one went with Fishman, so he’d called Fishman’s superior. Fishman was apprehended just inside the Texas border. Sam had made two trips to see Hope, and he was in the crowd of well-wishers here today. Gracie had come to realize there was no such thing as too much love.

  The only ache left in her heart was that they’d been unable to trace King. She feared the old horse had indeed ended his days in the rendering plant.

  “No cake in the face,” she warned.

  His blue eyes crinkled. “I wouldn’t think of it,” Michael said.

  He slipped a morsel of cake into her mouth, and she smiled as the sweetness melted on her tongue. Michael’s gaze traveled down her dress, then rested on her face. The spark in his eyes warmed her. He wore his dress uniform, and she couldn’t take her eyes off him.

  “I decided to do it, Gracie,” Michael said, sipping his punch.

  “Do what?” she asked.

  “I’m going to see if I can raise some money to start a helicopter paramedic unit here. It’s going to be tight financially for a while.Are you okay with that?”

  “Oh, Michael, I’m so glad.” She leaned over and brushed a kiss across his lips. “We’ll be just fine.”

  His gaze searched hers. “You were right, you know. I was doing it for all the wrong reasons.Trying to save the world to make my dad proud, and he’s not even still alive.”

  “What about Vargas? He escaped.There’s still the bounty on your head.”

  “I got a call this morning. His body was found in the wash along with Cid’s. Someone else will rise to power, and he won’t care about me.That battle isn’t mine anymore. I’m weary of death and combat. I can focus on life for a change.”

  “I like the sound of that.”

  Just then, a cameras flashed in her face. She smiled at Rick and Allie as they approached.

  Rick slapped him on the back. “That’s a beautiful bride you’ve got there.”

  “I always knew she’d be a knockout in a wedding dress,” he said. His eyes held a meaningful glint.

  She poked him in the ribs. “Sh,” she said.

  “Did you tell her yet?” Rick asked.

  “Not yet,” Michael answered, his eyes still on Gracie.

  “Tell me what?” She didn’t trust the impish expression on his face.

  “It’s customary for the groom to give the bride a gift.You haven’t asked about yours.”

  “I have you and the kids.What more could I want?”

  Michael’s grin widened. “I think there’s one thing.” His large, warm hand enveloped hers and he led her out of the tent. Rick and Allie followed them.

  Hope waved to her from atop a horse. “Mommy!” Jordan held the horse’s lead, and Evan walked with her. Caesar bounded beside the kids, with his ears alert.

  Gracie clutched Michael’s arm. She squinted into the sun. “I-is that. . . King?”

  “What do you think?”

  Her vision blurred. She ran for the horse and children. Michael stayed on her heels. The horse whinnied when he caught sight of her and began to walk faster. Gracie broke into a jog and reached the horse and children.

  King thrust his nose against her neck and huffed a blast of warm air onto her skin. She rubbed his neck. “You’re not dead,” she whispered. She turned toward Michael. “Where did you find him?”

  His grin faded. “In a rendering plant. I barely got there in time. Rick and Allie kept him until today so I could surprise you.”

  She leaned her head against the horse’s blaze. “It’s the best surprise I’ve ever had. Other than the one when I opened my eyes on a train station bench and saw my hero for the first time.”

  He colored as he smiled. “God had a plan, didn’t he?”

  “One I sure couldn’t see.” She laced her fingers with his.

  “I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to go home and start that new life.”

  “Home is a beautiful word,” she said, leaning into his embrace.

  DEAR READER,

  I HOPE YOU’VE ENJOYED OUR THIRD VISIT TO THE GORGEOUS BIG BEND area of West Texas as much as I have. I’ve been a little obsessed lately with marriage-of-convenience stories. Do you love them as much as I do?

  The thing I adore about these stories is watching how love works out when it’s a choice. It’s the day-to-day choices to love and to sacrifice that make a marriage work. A good marriage doesn’t just happen. All marriages are between flawed people who have to figure out a way to meld their differences into a relationship that works. It’s about learning how to give when you’d rather take. It’s about agreeing to watch golf when you’d rather watch The Biggest Loser. (Not that I’m too good at that one, mind you!)

  Gracie’s story developed when I pictured a woman getting off a train in a bedraggled wedding dress, without a dime to her name. Intriguing picture, isn’t it? I knew I had to find out what made her run like that.

  Judging from my reader mail, you have been enjoying these peeks into relationship building as much as I have enjoyed writing them. Be sure to let me know what you think of this one. I love to hear from readers! Drop me an e-mail at colleen@colleencoble.com, and check out my Web site at www.colleencoble.com.You can also follow me on Twitter at http://twitter.com/colleencoble, and I’m on Facebook as well. Thank you all for giving up your most precious commodity— time —to spend it with me and my stories.

  Much affection,

  Colleen Coble

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I am so in my sweet spot! It is such a joy to do another project with my wonderful Thomas Nelson family. Publisher Allen Arnold constantly comes up with new ways to build my brand. Senior Acquisitions Editor Ami McConnell (my friend and cheerleader) is never allowed to be gone for an edit again. I crave her analytical eye! Marketing Manager Jennifer Deshler brings both friendship and fabulous marketing ideas to the table. Publicist Katie Schroder is always willing to listen to my harebrained ideas. Fabulous cover guru Kristen Vasgaard (you so rock!) works hard to create the perfect cover—and does it. And of course I can’t forget the editors, assistants, and sales reps who are all part of my amazing fiction family: Natalie Hanemann, Amanda Bostic, Becky Monds, Jocelyn Bailey, Ashley Schneider, Heather McCulloch, Chris Long, and Kathy Carabajal. I wish I could name all the great folks who work on selling my books through different venues at Thomas Nelson.You are my dream team! Hearing “well done” from you all is my motivation every day.

  Michael Wayne was named by Joe and Frances Schwartz. Their daughter Mary Ann Dynes bid and won on the honor of naming a character in my next book at a Taylor University auction. She let her parents have the fun of naming the character, since they w
ere also a great resource for me when I wrote my Amish mystery Anathema. I liked the name so much, I chose it for my hero in the story.Thanks, my friends!

  My agent, Karen Solem, has helped shaped my career in many ways, and that includes kicking an idea to the curb when necessary. Thanks, Karen.You’re the best!

  Erin Healy is the best freelance editor in the business, bar none. Thanks, Erin! I couldn’t do it without you. Check out her upcoming solo novel.

  Writing can be a lonely business, but God has blessed me with great writing friends and critique partners. Kristin Billerbeck, Diann Hunt, and Denise Hunter make up the Girls Write Out squad (www.GirlsWriteOut.blogspot.com). I couldn’t make it through a day without my peeps! And another one of those is Robin Miller, conference director of ACFW (www.acfw.com), who spots inconsistencies in a suspense plot with an eagle eye.Thanks to all of you for the work you do on my behalf, and for your friendship.

  Thanks to my husband, Dave, who carts me around from city to city, washes towels, and chases down dinner without complaint. Thanks, honey! I couldn’t do anything without you. My kids—Dave and Kara (and now Donna and Mark)—and my grandsons, James and Jorden Packer, love and support me in every way possible. Love you guys! Donna and Dave brought me the delight of my life—our little granddaughter, Alexa! It’s hard to write when all I want to do is kiss those darling, pudgy feet. She is the most beautiful baby ever!

  Most important, I give my thanks to God, who has opened such amazing doors for me and makes the journey a golden one.

  READING GROUP GUIDE

  1.Why do you think Gracie wanted to cut up the wedding dress when she was able to change out of it?

  2. Gracie’s desperation drove her to extreme measures.What would you have done if you were in her situation?

  3. Michael took his duty very seriously. Where is the line between duty and family?

  4. Michael was a crusader, out to save the world. In what ways did he go too far?

  5. Gracie ran from trouble while Michael faced it head on.What is your response to conflict and why is that your reaction?