When to Call a Cowboy

by June Faver

  “I guess that little lady was just not interested in living in a small town. Miss Dixie isn’t the same girl who left Langston. She’s gotten all citified on us.”

  Beau let that sink in and shook his head sadly. “Well, I guess there’s only one thing left to do. I’m going to go to Dallas.”

  * * *

  “Why, that contemptible, underhanded jerk!” Mamie Moore’s voice was shrill. She gazed up at Dixie, her eyes and mouth wide open. “How could he do that to you?”

  Dixie shrugged. “He kicked us out before. Why would you think he would treat us any better when he was dead?”

  “Well...well...” Mamie’s hands fluttered in the air. “Don’t worry about it. I still have some money left, and you have a nice little business going. We’ll be fine.”

  “That’s what I was thinking, Mom.” Dixie pressed her lips together, forming a thin line. “Daddy didn’t love me at all…but…” She recalled the strange language of the will. Why did he think she had abandoned him? After all, her mother had tried over and over again to change his mind. She had pleaded with him to find forgiveness in his heart, but he had remained cold and distant.

  “We’re going to be fine.” Mamie nodded vigorously. “We have the condo, and it’s all paid off. I’ve got my savings. We don’t need that much. It just isn’t worth it for you to give up a year of your life to go back to that horrid place where everyone treated you so badly. It’s not worth it at all.”

  Dixie considered the vast amount of grassland, the thousands of head of beef cattle, the lovely rambling house, and the successful feed store. She blew out a deep breath before wrapping her arms around her mother. “I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

  * * *

  The next day, Beau called on Misty, his ultra-smart sister-in-law, and asked her to try to find Dixie Lee Moore in Dallas, Texas. He walked into the offices of Breckenridge T. Ryan, Esquire, and explained to her what he needed.

  “I’ll see what I can do,” she said, entering the information into her computer. “Let me see what I can find online.”

  The door swung open, and Breck Ryan strode inside. “Good morning, Misty. Beau. Do you need to see me?”

  Beau shook his head. “I’m just borrowing a little of your office manager’s time.”

  Misty laughed. “I’m just a secretary. Give me a break.”

  Breck folded his arms across his chest. “No, I think you’re more than that. I couldn’t do half of what I do without you keeping me straight.”

  “I do the best I can.” To Beau she said, “Let me work on this, Beau. I’ll call you if I can find something.”

  “Come on into my office,” Breck invited. “You and I can catch up while Misty is looking for whatever it is she’s looking for.” He swung the glass-paned door open and gestured for Beau to enter.

  The lawyer tossed his Stetson on a hat rack and took a seat behind his wide mahogany desk. Beau sat opposite, trying to relax.

  “Tell me what I can do for you.” He eyed Beau critically. “What’s on your mind?”

  “It’s Dixie Moore. I need to find her.”

  Breck leaned forward. “Mind if I ask why? I know you were sweet on her in high school, but she’s been gone a few years.” He spread his hands. “Trust me, the woman who came in here yesterday was not the same sweet kid.”

  Lifting his shoulders, Beau shook his head. “I—I don’t know. I just have to find her. I have so many questions. I can’t let her go without some answers.”

  Breck raised one dark brow. “I hear ya.” He opened a desk drawer and removed a folder. He pried open the clasp, spilling the contents on the desktop. “I think I have what you need right here.” He pawed through the papers and found what he was looking for. He tossed a card across the desk.

  Beau seized upon it. It was the business card of a detective agency in Dallas. He flipped it over. A squeezing sensation in his chest triggered an intake of breath. The name Dixie Moore was hand-printed along with an address and a telephone number. “How did you get this?”

  “I had to locate her when Vern was killed. She was the heir. She’ll inherit everything—that is, if she comes back to Langston.”

  “So you paid a private detective to find her?”

  “That I did. If you want to talk to little Miss Dixie, there’s your chance.”

  Beau stared at the words on the card. The letters seemed to dance before his eyes. This was Dixie’s world…where she lived. He could just drive to Dallas and knock on her door. Simple as that. Maybe he could get some answers. Maybe she would kick him out, but at least he would have tried.

  He stood and extended his hand, giving Breck’s a hearty shake. “Thanks. Thanks a lot.”

  To Misty, he murmured, “Cancel the search…just never mind,” as he strode out the door.

  * * *

  “Sweetie, your mother’s crazy.” Scott lifted her chin. “She’s not that old, but she’s very bitter. She’s asking you to give up your birthright.” He had come over soon after Dixie had called to tell him she was back. He still wore a cast on his right forearm since his hand was not fully healed.

  Tears stung Dixie’s eyes. “I—I don’t know, Scott.” She glanced toward the stairs leading up to her mother’s bedroom.

  “Years from now, you’ll kick yourself if you let this opportunity go. You owe it to yourself. You owe it to—”

  “I know,” she said, sniffling. “I’d just hate to go back to Langston. Everyone there treated me like—like…” She cast about for an analogy but came up blank.

  A tear trailed down her cheek, and Scott wiped it away with his thumb. “Don’t cry, sweet girl. You know I’m here for you. I’ll drive to Langston every weekend, if you need me. Roger won’t mind. He knows you’re like a sister to me. We’ll always be like family.”

  “I know, but—”

  He interrupted her with a finger to her lips. “It’s only a year. It will pass in a flash. You’ll see.”

  She sucked in a deep breath and eased it out. “You think so?”

  He flashed a grin. “I know so. You can run your business from your home in Langston, and I’m sure you can deal with the feed store. I mean, how hard can that be?” He spread his hands. “Farmers come in and buy feed…right?”

  A throbbing in her temple signaled the beginning of a headache. How hard can it be? Did he have any idea how hard it was to run a ranch? How hard it was to run a business? Scott worked at a day spa and gym, flattering middle-aged women and showing them how to use exercise equipment.

  She nodded. “I’m sure you’re right. I’ll think about it.”

  “You can sell everything in a year. All that property has to be worth a bundle. Don’t blow it away.”

  “A year.” She thought about spending the next twelve months in Langston. Twelve months in a small town where she would run into all the Garretts. Where she would run into Beau everywhere.

  “It will go by in a flash,” Scott assured her. “We can get you through this, and then, when you sell it all off, you can go anywhere you want. You can do anything you want.”

  “I’ll think about it,” she reiterated.

  * * *

  Big Jim stood, his hands fisted on his hips, glaring at his youngest son. “Are you sure about this?”

  “Yeah, Dad. I’m sure. I can’t get on with my life until I get some answers from Dixie. If I have to chase her down to her home turf to find out why she left me so suddenly, then that’s what I’m going to do.” He opened his closet and took out several nicely starched western shirts and Wranglers on hangers and laid them across his bed. “I just need to do this.”

  Big Jim looked doubtful. “You don’t need to. You want to.”

  “Yes, I do.” He stuffed his toiletries into a dopp kit and rolled some underwear into a duffel bag. He abandoned his packing efforts and turned to his dad. “Look, I
know you don’t understand, but this is just something I have to do. I can’t leave things unresolved between us.”

  Big Jim huffed out an impatient snort. “You and Dixie Moore? I thought she made it clear she didn’t want anything to do with you, or Langston, when she went running out of town after the will was read. Running away for the second time, I might add.”

  “Yeah, well…” He couldn’t think of anything to rebut his father’s assessment. At that moment, his cell phone sounded.

  His father rolled his eyes and walked away.

  Beau answered the phone, noting that the call came from the office of Breckenridge Ryan. “Hello?”

  “Beau? It’s Misty. I have news for you.”

  He raked his fingers through his thick dark hair. “Let ’er rip.”

  “Well…Dixie Moore is coming back to Langston. She called Breck a little while ago to tell him she intended to return to Langston and live up to the terms of her father’s will.”

  Beau sat down on the edge of his bed. “She’s coming back?”

  “That’s what she said.”

  “Okay, thanks.” He hung up and sat staring into space. She’s coming back. I have a year to win her over.

  * * *

  Beau gave her a week. He thought that should be enough time for her to get settled in…and for her to get used to the fact that she would have to deal with him for a year.

  He gripped the steering wheel with both hands as he drove to the Moore ranch. He gave himself a pep talk about keeping his cool and not losing it if she shut him out—again.

  When he turned his silver double-dually truck in at her ranch, he slowed, rolling to a stop in front of the house. He killed the motor and sat, gazing at the rambling one-story ranch house. Dixie’s SUV was in place, so he figured she was inside. He hoped her boyfriend was not. It wasn’t that he was afraid of the muscle-bound oaf, but he didn’t want to do anything to upset Dixie. It was too important to him to be able to communicate with her.

  Man up, Beau.

  He opened the door and stepped down out of the truck, hoping he could break through the wall Dixie had built up against him. Sucking in a chest full of air, he then blew it all out. He strode across the porch and rang the doorbell. Nothing. No sounds from within.

  He knocked this time, but again, the house remained silent. He figured she had peeked out and decided not to open the door to him.

  Just as he turned to go, he heard her laughter…and her voice. She was talking to someone and coming closer.

  Beau stood frozen on the porch, watching as Dixie rounded the corner, hand in hand with a young red-haired girl. A strangling sensation wrapped his throat. Undeniably, this was Dixie’s clone. She has a child—a daughter.

  He struggled to draw a breath. “Dixie,” he gasped out.

  Dixie’s gaze lit on him, and she stopped in place. “B—Beau,” her voice rasped.

  The child turned her attention to him as well. She was Dixie’s spitting image, except for her eyes. Garrett eyes. Bright, turquoise-blue eyes ringed with a fringe of black lashes stared back at him.

  Beau felt as though he had been sucker-punched. He dropped to one knee, unable to speak. Obviously this was his daughter. The question was why had Dixie hidden the child from him?

  * * *

  Dixie had known this moment was coming. She had rehearsed her lines a hundred times in her head. She had intended to be cool and aloof, letting him know her boundaries in no uncertain terms—but now she stood staring at Beau, unable to react.

  Her throat constricted as she saw tears gather in Beau’s eyes. Seeing this big man drop to one knee had jarred her, but now that tears had formed in his eyes, the eyes identical to her daughter’s, she couldn’t function. She could barely breathe.

  “Mommy?”

  “It’s okay, baby.” Resolutely, Dixie continued, stepping up onto her porch. “Beau Garrett. Meet my daughter, Ava. She’s five years old.”

  Still on one knee, he stared at Ava and then raised his gaze to Dixie’s. “My daughter.” It wasn’t a question.

  “Yes.” She felt her lips tighten. “The daughter you denied. Now, she’s just my daughter.”

  A strange, animal-like sound curled up out of Beau’s throat. He stood, his face changing as he rose. “Just what the hell are you talking about?”

  Dixie raised her brows, giving him a stern look. “I’ll thank you to watch your language.” She ruffled her daughter’s curls. “Ava, why don’t you go on in the house and find your teddy bear. I’m sure he needs some company. I’ll be with you in a minute.”

  Beau’s gaze followed Ava as she climbed the steps and entered the house. When he turned back to face Dixie, his face was the picture of rage. His color was heightened, and a muscle in his jaw worked.

  “I can’t believe you never told me about Ava. I was sick with worry when you disappeared.” He shook his head and stomped to the end of the porch. “I can’t believe you did that to your father.” Pivoting, he strode back to her. “What kind of monster are you, Dixie Moore?”

  Anger spiraled through Dixie’s chest. She could hardly breathe. “How dare you pretend you didn’t know about Ava! My mother went to your home and begged your father to acknowledge my pregnancy.” Her voice came out as a raspy whisper, since she didn’t want to alarm Ava. If she were to scream at Beau, as every molecule of her being wanted, she might fly at him with her fists. How dare he pretend? Is he mocking me?

  Beau regarded her through slitted eyes. “I assure you my father would never do that. If he knew you were pregnant with his grandchild, he would have gone straight to the preacher to arrange our wedding. My dad’s not like that.”

  “Ha! Shows what you know. Your dad is a big, egotistical bully. My mother said he laughed and called me a slut.”

  “He would never do that,” Beau reiterated, leaning so close she itched to slap his face.

  “Are you calling my mother a liar?” She was aware her voice had become shrill.

  He straightened his shoulders. “It appears so.”

  Chapter 4

  Beau drove home. It might be true that he exceeded the speed limit, but encountering an officer of the law was the last thing on his mind. He took the turn way too fast, squealing his tires. The truck rocked as he drove through the horseshoe-shaped arch gating the entrance to the Garrett spread. His truck bumped over the cattle guard, jarring his teeth together. A cloud of dust rose behind his vehicle as he tore down the private road to the Garrett ranch house.

  Stomping on the brakes, he swerved to park next to Big Jim’s truck. He jammed the gears into park and jumped out, stomping into the house. “Dad! Dad, where are you?”

  “What’s all the racket?” Big Jim came out of his study, frowning.

  Beau raked his fingers through his hair. “I’ve got to know, Dad. Promise you won’t lie to me.”

  “What the hell?” Big Jim’s brows came together as he fisted his hands on his hips. “Have I ever lied to you?”

  “Not that I know of, but I’m just saying, you have to be straight with me. This is too important.”

  “Come on in the kitchen. You look pretty hot under the collar. I’m going to have a glass of sweet tea, and I’m gonna pour one for you.” Big Jim headed to the back of the house.

  Beau released a frustrated sigh before following his father to the kitchen. Slumping onto a stool, he leaned both elbows against the counter. He watched Big Jim’s movements as he selected two tall glasses, filled them with ice from the refrigerator door, and topped them off with tea from a pitcher in the refrigerator.

  “Now, what is all this about?” Big Jim took a sip before sliding onto another stool.

  “Dad, did Dixie’s mother ever come to talk with you?”

  “Not that I recall.” He took another hit of tea. “I barely remember her. Seems she was always scowling.” Big Jim cock
ed his head to one side. “You wanted to talk about Mrs. Moore?”

  “Maybe I should have started off congratulating you.”

  “For what?”

  “For one thing, you’re a grandfather.”

  “You mean Leah’s little daughter, Gracie? I love her like she was my own blood. You know that.”

  “No, I was thinking about the daughter Dixie Moore gave birth to when she left high school before graduation.” He raised his glass in a salute before taking a sip. “My daughter.”

  Big Jim set his tea down hard and leaned forward. “What did you say?” His bushy brows rose toward his thick shock of silver hair.

  “You heard me. Dixie Moore has a beautiful little daughter, and she’s mine.”

  “Well, I’ll be damned.” A slow smile spread across Big Jim’s craggy face. “A daughter, you say?” Big Jim let out a whoop and smacked his open palm down on the countertop.

  “Dad, it’s not a laughing matter. Dixie insisted her mother came to this house and told you about the pregnancy. That’s what she’s been so all-fired pissed off about.”

  “Never happened,” Big Jim growled, suddenly serious. “We would have gone straight to the preacher to get you two married.”

  “That’s what I figured.” Beau slumped against the counter. “Damn! I can’t believe I have a daughter.” He leaned his forehead against his hands. “She’s just beautiful.”

  “I can’t wait to meet her.”

  Beau let out a snort. “Good luck with that. Dixie and I had a fight. She’s convinced her mother came here to tell us Dixie was pregnant and that you called her a slut and turned her away.”

  “That’s a bald-faced lie!” Big Jim exploded.

  “That’s what I told her.” Beau raked his fingers through his hair again. “That’s when she went inside and locked the door.”

  “What is it you want to do?”