The Texan Quartet (Books 1-4) Omnibus

by Claire Boston

  “Come on, Cowboy George, we’ve got cattle to rustle.”

  At first George thought Toby had spotted him but then he realized he had named the cowboy figure after him. He rubbed at the pang in his chest. The kid was a lot of fun to be around and such a sweetheart. He was really looking forward to teaching him today. One of his favorite memories was spending days helping his father on a renovation, wearing his hard hat and safety glasses and digging in the sand or swinging a hammer on some section to which his father had deemed he couldn’t do any damage.

  He hoped Toby would have as much fun.

  “Howdy, pardner,” he said.

  Toby looked up and his face lighted up. “Howdy, George!” He jumped up and gave George a hug.

  Seriously, how could anyone not adore the kid?

  “You ready for a day of construction work?”

  “Sure am. Are we going now?”

  “Yep; your mom’s just making me some coffee to go.”

  Elle walked in carrying a tray with three take-out cups, two large and one small. She handed them to George. “I made Toby a hot chocolate,” she said. “Let me grab my car keys and you can take the car seat out.”

  “No need. Adrian had Kate’s old one still sitting in the garage so I’ve got that. I checked it out to make sure it’s still in good condition.”

  Elle gave him a look that he couldn’t decipher.

  “I hope that’s all right?”

  “Ah, should be. I’ll come out and check.”

  George didn’t mind. He knew some parents were more protective than others and Elle had every right to be after what she’d been through.

  “Toby, put your things in this bag.” Elle held open a small backpack and Toby put his horse and cowboy inside. After it was zipped up, she helped him put it on his back.

  Together they walked out to where George had parked and Elle checked the carseat.

  “Looks good.” She strapped Toby in, showing George how it was done, and then stepped back. “Toby, you need to listen to George and his dad today, all right?”

  “Yes, Mom.” Toby answered in a sing-song voice.

  George swallowed his grin.

  Elle turned to him. “You’ve got my cell number and the number of the café. Call if you need anything.”

  “Sure will. Don’t worry, he’ll be fine.”

  “I know.” Elle sighed.

  George drew her close to him. “I’ll take care of him.” He gave in to his desire and kissed her, savoring the taste of Elle, before drawing back. “Do you want me to call you at midday?”

  Elle blinked, and then shook her head. “No, not if everything’s fine.” She glanced back to the café. “I’d better get back.” She said good-bye to Toby and left.

  George climbed into the car and glanced at Toby in the rearview mirror. “Ready, kiddo?”

  Toby nodded slowly, but his forehead was furrowed. George started the car and set off. “Everything all right?” Perhaps Toby was a little unsure about being taken to a strange place without his mother.

  “You kissed Mom.” It wasn’t an accusation, merely a statement with a hint of a question behind it.

  George wasn’t quite sure how to handle it. “Yes, I did.”

  “Miranda says only people who love each other kiss, but Mom kissed Dad and she doesn’t like him very much.”

  Hell, how could he respond? He had to tread very carefully here, and he hadn’t had his coffee yet.

  “People kiss for lots of reasons,” George said, hoping Toby would leave it.

  There was silence for a moment and then Toby asked, “So why did you kiss Mom?”

  He used to laugh when Kate would be tenacious about something with her father or Adrian, but it wasn’t so funny when he was in the firing line.

  He kept it simple. “Because I like her.”

  Another pause and then a quiet voice. “Don’t you like me?”

  George coughed. “Of course I do. There are different types of kisses and the kiss I gave your mom is different from the kiss I’d give you.” He was digging himself deeper.

  Sure enough, Toby asked, “Why?”

  How the hell was he supposed to explain it? Really it should be Elle who had this conversation with him. But it was his own fault for kissing her in front of Toby.

  “Well, you often like people in different ways.” He wished the house they were heading to wasn’t so far away. “You like Miranda in a different way than you like your mom, right?” He hoped he was right.

  “Sometimes I don’t like Miranda at all. She steals my horse.”

  Relieved to be on a safer subject, George said, “That’s exactly right.”

  Toby was quiet and George congratulated himself on handling it so well, when Toby spoke.

  “Should I kiss Miranda on the mouth?” He sounded a little disgusted.

  George choked back a laugh. “No, I don’t think so. There’s love for family, which can be different from love of friends, which is different from love of …” What word could he use? “… partners.”

  “We’re partners, aren’t we, George?”

  Bad choice of word. “Not that kind of partner.” He needed to use something Toby would understand. Glancing in the rearview mirror, he spied the horse in the boy’s hand. “You know how a stallion and a mare react when they get put in the same pasture?”

  “You mean when they act all silly and the stallion tries to ride the mare.” Toby laughed. “He’s too big to get on top of her.”

  George was thankful Toby didn’t understand precisely what was going on there. “Yes, like that. That’s another kind of like.”

  “So you want to ride Mom and that’s why you kissed her on the mouth?”

  George swallowed his groan. He was digging himself deeper and deeper. He hoped to hell, Toby wouldn’t repeat this conversation to Elle. There was no way he’d be able to explain it.

  “Kind of.”

  Toby nodded and glanced out of the window. “Are we almost there?”

  Relieved Toby was satisfied, George said, “Another five minutes, kiddo.”

  ***

  They arrived at the house George’s father was renovating a few minutes later. Hank’s truck was parked in the drive and there was banging coming from inside the seventies brick building.

  George helped Toby out of the car, grabbed the coffees and walked through the front door toward the sound. “We’re here, Dad.”

  George’s mom appeared from one of the side rooms. “Good morning, darling.”

  George hugged her. “I didn’t realize you’d be here.”

  “I can’t let your dad have all the fun.” She spotted Toby, who was standing behind George’s legs. “You must be Toby. My name’s Marla.” She held out a hand.

  Toby took it and shook it slowly. “Howdy, ma’am.”

  “Why don’t you come through to the back? I brought some things you might need.”

  George and Toby followed Marla through to the kitchen, where George’s father, Hank, was in the process of demolishing a wall. There was a fair bit of dust and Toby coughed and watched wide-eyed as Hank swung the hammer.

  Another portion of the wall tumbled down and Hank grunted in satisfaction before pulling down his dust mask and turning to them.

  “Howdy, folks.” He took off his gloves and turned to Toby. “My name’s Hank.”

  Toby took Hank’s outstretched hand and shook it. “I’m Toby.”

  “I hear you’re going to be helping out today,” Hank said. He turned to the kitchen bench where a small hard hat and a pair of safety glasses sat. George recognized them from his youth.

  “The first rule of the job is to be safe.” Hank took the hard hat from the table and placed it on Toby’s head. Toby’s eyes were solemn as he gently touched the helmet on his head.

  “You need to protect your head, your eyes,” he handed Toby the glasses, “and your hands.” From the bag on the table he drew out a small pair of gloves.

  “Yes, sir,” Toby said,
carefully taking the items he was handed.

  George remembered the pride he’d felt when his dad had handed him his first safety gear. He’d thought he was a grown up.

  “But before we get started, I see you’ve brought refreshments.” Hank grabbed a coffee from the tray George held. “Let’s head outside and go over the plan.”

  Toby turned to George, but his hands were full of glasses and gloves.

  “You can put those things down outside and get your drink,” George told him and followed his father outside.

  The yard of the house was a decent size but needed a bit of tidying. There were a few tall trees and shrubs to prune and the garden beds, though a respectable size, were covered in weeds. From the branches of one tree, a swing hung ready to be played with. George recognized his father’s work. Hank had probably hung it there when he’d heard Toby was coming.

  They sat on the steps of the porch and George handed Toby his drink. Then Hank took them through the work he wanted to get done.

  George noted Hank had chosen a couple of small projects for Toby to work on; they’d keep him busy and out of the way of the big stuff. When he got bored he could play with his horse or on the swing outside. George’s jobs were all in the back of the house, so he’d be able to keep an eye on the kid even while he helped his dad.

  They got to work after they’d finished their drinks.

  Toby’s first job was to sand a small chest of drawers so it could be repainted. George showed Toby what to do and made sure he was doing it correctly. Then he helped his father demolish the kitchen.

  It was dusty, dirty work but George loved using his muscles to rip the cupboards down and discard them in the dumpster his father had hired.

  He kept an eye on Toby, who was quite content to do his task, or watch what he and Hank were doing.

  It was just before lunch that George first met Cranky Pants.

  Toby was playing with a hammer, randomly hitting things that George had told him he could, when there was an almighty yell. As George turned the hammer fell to the floor, Toby clutched his thumb in his hand and started wailing.

  It was inevitable something was going to happen but George wasn’t worried. He had a trick up his sleeve that had worked on every child he’d seen get hurt, every time. Placing down his own hammer he made the sound of an ambulance siren wailing and hurried over.

  “Let’s see what we have here.”

  Toby paused for a second and then wailed louder.

  Damn. The siren usually shocked the child long enough that they forgot about the pain and started laughing. “It’s all right, Toby. Let me check it out.”

  Toby shook his head and held his hand closer to his body, his wails getting louder and louder.

  Surprised, George tried his no-nonsense voice. “Toby-boy, I need to check where you’re hurt.”

  He reached out to take the injured hand and Toby screamed, “I want my mom!”

  George closed his hand over Toby’s and Toby flinched away from him. “No, no, no!”

  George didn’t have a clue what to do. None of his usual tricks were working. Flustered, he glanced up at his father, who stood by watching, not trying to help. He was waiting for George’s reaction.

  “Toby, please let me have a look.”

  “I want my mom!” Each word got louder and louder.

  Marla hurried into the room, took one look and whispered to George, “Poor thing is tired.” She swooped down and scooped Toby into her arms, murmuring, “Let Miss Marla kiss it better. I bet that hurt, didn’t it?”

  Toby’s sobs subsided somewhat and he nodded.

  “I remember George hitting his thumb like you did and boy did he caterwaul.” She jiggled him up and down and smothered his cheeks in kisses.

  Toby sniffed and let her kiss his thumb better.

  George breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t want to take a screaming Toby home to Elle. And he couldn’t say she hadn’t warned him. A tired Toby was a grumpy Toby and George had kept him up past his bedtime the previous night.

  “How about we stop for lunch?” Marla said, still with Toby in her arms. “George, the cooler is in the front room. Wash up and then bring it out back. Hank, grab one of the drop sheets and we can use it as a blanket.” She swept out of the room with Toby in her arms.

  George shook his head and breathed a sigh of relief. “She’s amazing.”

  “She sure is. Had lots of practice with you kids,” Hank told him. “Trick is not to get flustered.”

  George rolled his eyes. “Thanks, Dad.”

  They followed Marla out to the backyard and Hank spread out the drop sheet like a picnic blanket under the trees. Marla sat with Toby still on her lap while Hank and George unpacked the cooler. Toby was a lot calmer now and his eyes were heavy.

  “Let’s get some food into us,” Marla said and gave Toby a chicken drumstick to eat. Toby munched away quite happily while they all ate and George surreptitiously checked his hand. There was the faintest bruise on Toby’s thumb he’d have to explain to Elle when he took him back. He hoped she’d understand.

  When they were finished eating, Marla said, “Toby, why don’t you go on the swing with George while Hank and I pack up?”

  Toby nodded and stood up, walking over to George.

  “Sounds like a great idea, kiddo,” George said as he glanced over Toby’s head at his mother who mouthed the word gently and then tilted her head to the side with her hands under it like a pillow.

  George nodded as he got to his feet and walked over to the swing. He sat down and then pulled Toby on to his lap.

  “Did you enjoy lunch?” George asked as he settled Toby back against his chest and began gently swinging.

  Toby nodded.

  Not wanting to keep him awake, George stopped talking and kept up a smooth, steady rhythm as his parents packed up the lunch together. When they finished, Marla looked over and smiled. “He’s asleep. Lay him down on the drop sheet and let him sleep. I’ll do some pruning out here and keep an eye on him while you two make noise inside.”

  George carefully stood and lay Toby on the sheet. He barely stirred. “Are you sure?”

  “Course I am. It will give me a bit of peace too, and he’s such a sweet child.”

  George looked down at Toby sleeping peacefully, slight tearstains still on his cheeks. “He is.”

  “Elle has done a wonderful job raising him.”

  He nodded. His mother didn’t know the half of it.

  “I hope you have a lot of patience, Georgie-boy,” she said. “I can tell that girl has been through a lot.”

  It never failed to surprise George how much his mother saw and understood. He really should be used to it by now.

  “For Elle, I do.”

  “Good. Now go and help your father and I’ll watch the little man.” His mother made shooing motions.

  George hugged her and kissed her cheek. “Thanks, Mom.”

  Knowing Toby couldn’t be in better hands, he went to help his father.

  ***

  By the end of the day, George was pleasantly tired, Toby was well rested and back in good spirits and they’d achieved everything Hank had wanted to.

  After Toby had woken up, he’d been happy as a clam for the rest of the day. He’d helped Marla pull weeds in the garden and then planted the few flowers she’d brought with her.

  Toby hugged Hank and Marla and waved before hopping into the car to be strapped in.

  George’s thoughts turned to Elle and on a whim he called the café.

  “Everything all right?” Elle asked when she heard his voice.

  “Fine. We’re on our way back. I’m calling to ask if you and Toby want to have dinner with me tonight.”

  In the back seat Toby yelled, “Yes!”

  Elle laughed. “Are you sure you’re up for more Toby time?”

  “Absolutely.” And he definitely wanted more Elle time. “I could grab some stuff to grill on the way over, or I could take Toby straight home and yo
u could meet us there.”

  “If you’re happy to have Toby, how about I meet you at your place? It will save you having to come this way.”

  “Sure. See you when you get there.”

  He hung up and turned toward the grocery store. “What does your mom like to eat?” he asked Toby.

  “Chocolate, but only for special occasions ’cause we can’t afford it every day.”

  George made a mental note to send Elle chocolates during the week when he was in California. She deserved to have chocolate whenever she wanted it.

  “What else?”

  “We have spaghetti a lot. I like it with cheese.”

  “What about sausages and steak?”

  “Yep, with ketchup or barbeque sauce.”

  George parked and helped Toby out of the car. He took the boy’s hand and together they went into the shop. George grabbed a basket and they walked up and down the aisles adding not only items for dinner but also the things Toby wanted to try. George couldn’t say no to the kid. He wanted to spoil him.

  By the time they arrived home, it was only a half hour before Elle would arrive. George threw together a marinade and added the steaks and then put Toby to work chopping tomatoes for the salad.

  “I’m a good cook,” Toby announced as he added the tomatoes to the bowl. “Mom and Memah taught me how to chop right and said I was a big help.”

  “You are,” George agreed as he whisked together a dressing for the salad, and then passed Toby some cucumber to slice.

  “Mom will like us cooking. Sometimes when we get home she is too tired to cook so we have leftovers or she cooks eggs.”

  “Does it happen often?” George didn’t like prying Toby for more information but he’d noticed how tired Elle was.

  “Nah, just sometimes.”

  The doorbell rang.

  “Is that Mom?” Toby asked.

  “Let’s go check.” George dried his hands on a dish towel and headed to the door, anticipation stirring in his veins.

  ***

  Elle waited at the door as Toby’s excited chatter came nearer. She’d dashed home to change after work and had slipped on her one summer dress. Now she straightened out the non-existent creases.

  George opened the door and smiled at her, full and welcoming. Her heart did a little dance.