A Texan on Her Doorstep

by Stella Bagwell

  “I could dictate comments and have someone else do it for me. But I prefer to do it myself. The well-being of my patients is my personal responsibility, not some person filing charts and records.”

  In spite of the dark interior, there was enough lamplight to see a look of appreciation flash across his face, and the sight pleased Ileana far more than it should have.

  “Your dedication is to be admired,” he said. “But it brings me to another question. Why do you want to be a doctor? Seems to me you’re always working—even when you’re home. Doesn’t that get old?”

  “Everyone gets tired—even at a job they love. I’ll bet once in a while you even need a break from being a deputy.”

  He nodded in agreement. “The hours are crazy, and the pay is low. Not to mention the danger. And sometimes it gets so hectic that I ask myself if I’m crazy for hanging on at the job.”

  “But you keep on doing it, because, like you said earlier, you want to help people. It’s the same way with me, Mac. I want to be a doctor so that I can help people.”

  He leaned toward her, and Ileana’s gaze zeroed in on the lopsided grin on his face.

  “Well, right now I wish you’d forget about being a doctor,” he said softly. “There’s still plenty of evening left. If you stopped by the ranch house, we could—”

  “Mac,” she gently interrupted, “I have to go home. Really.”

  His hand came up and stroked the side of her hair. “I was only going to say that we could—talk.”

  Ileana swallowed as her heart pounded wildly in her chest. “We’ve already done a lot of talking tonight.”

  His fingers left her hair to slide gently along her jawline before coming to a rest beneath her chin. “You’re right,” he murmured. “We have. And I’ve learned a lot.”

  Her lashes fluttered as her gaze sought his. “What have you learned?”

  “That I want to kiss you again,” he whispered as his mouth inched toward hers. “And I think you want to kiss me, too.”

  She tried to counter his words, but all she could manage to do was breathe his name, and even that one tiny sound was swallowed up as his mouth covered hers.

  Her full lips were soft, softer than anything he’d ever tasted. But it was their vulnerable quiver that got to Mac and urged his arms to circle around her shoulders. And it was the sweet surrender of her mouth that caused him to groan deep in his throat and press her close against him.

  In a matter of moments he was lost in her gentle response, and then he was struggling, fighting the urge to deepen the kiss, to acquaint his hands with every inch of her body. In the pit of his belly coals of desire stirred to flames and heated his blood.

  Knowing he was close to losing control, Mac jerked his mouth from hers and drew in a long, ragged breath. Beneath his hands he could feel Ileana trembling, her back rising and falling as she struggled to regain her breath.

  Mac was stunned. He’d never expected to want this much, feel this much. Especially from a woman who could possibly still be a virgin, an innocent waiting for the man of her dreams.

  He couldn’t, in good conscience, be the man who burst those dreams. More than anything, even more than assuaging the desire simmering in his loins, he wanted her to remember him as a gentleman.

  “I…I think we’d better head for home,” he said with heavy reluctance.

  “Yes—you’re right,” she said in a choked voice.

  Avoiding his gaze, she reached to the floorboard for her handbag. While she retrieved it, Mac hurriedly left the cab and walked around to the passenger door to help her to the ground.

  Once she was standing in front of him, Mac clung to her hand while his gaze snatched hungry glances at her face.

  “I’ll drive behind you until we get to the ranch,” he told her.

  “Okay.”

  She didn’t make any sort of move toward her own truck, and Mac finally realized he was still holding her hand in a firm grip.

  Quickly he dropped it and smiled sheepishly. “Would it do me any good to come here to the hospital tomorrow?”

  “I doubt it. But miracles do happen.”

  He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I’ll be here then. Good night, Ileana.”

  To his surprise, she rose up on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Mac, for the lovely dinner. Good night.”

  As he watched her climb into her truck, Mac figured he had a goofy look on his face. Had any woman ever kissed him there before? Maybe. If one had, she’d not meant it. Not in the genuine way that Ileana had.

  What the hell was coming over him, he asked himself as his gaze followed her retreating taillights. Since when did he let a woman end a date with a kiss on the cheek?

  Since he’d met Dr. Ileana Sanders.

  Chapter Six

  T he next afternoon, Mac was exploring the Bar M racing stables when he spotted Chloe on a nearby dirt track, exercising a big, steel-gray Thoroughbred.

  After three circles in an easy gallop, she pulled up the horse and, after sliding to the ground, handed the reins over to a groom.“Put him on the walker for ten minutes, Manuel, then shower him,” she told the young man, who was using all his might to keep the energetic horse under control.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Manuel led the horse up a slight hill to a big barn with a connecting row of stables. Mac continued to stand with his forearms propped on the board railing surrounding the racetrack, until Chloe came within reach. Then he turned and tipped his hat politely.

  “Good mornin’, Chloe.”

  She was bundled in a red plaid jacket and her jeans were stuffed in the tops of her riding boots. The cold air had nipped her face with color, and the smile she wore as she walked over to him was one of exhilaration.

  “Good morning, yourself,” she replied. “What did you think about Rebel? Does he look like he’s ready for the big track?”

  Mac chuckled. “I’m the last person to be asking. I own a couple of horses, but they’re quarter horses that I use to herd cattle. But from what I could see of Rebel he looked great.”

  She reached over and fondly patted Mac’s arm. “I hope you’re not getting too bored here on the ranch, Mac. I’m sure it’s nothing like being home, but it has to be better than hanging around a hotel.”

  Mac shook his head. “I haven’t been bored at all. The ranch is beautiful, and I enjoy watching all the horses.”

  Her expression turned keen. “Have you spoken yet to Ileana today? I’m wondering if there’s any change in Frankie.”

  “I haven’t spoken to her today. But last night she told me that Frankie had slightly improved. That’s all.” Mac hadn’t told Ileana’s parents that he’d taken their daughter out to dinner last night. He wasn’t sure why he’d kept the information to himself. He didn’t think they would frown upon it; he just considered his time with Ileana private. “I plan to go to the hospital this evening and maybe catch up with her as she does her rounds.”

  Chloe frowned. “Why do that when you can catch up to her at her house?”

  Mac realized that Chloe was merely being practical, but he wasn’t at all sure that Ileana would appreciate him showing up on her doorstep. Even after that kiss she’d given him last night. “I don’t think it would be a good idea to intrude on Ileana’s privacy.”

  “Mac,” Chloe gently scolded, “Ileana wouldn’t consider you an intrusion. My daughter was born to help others. And I know she wants to help you resolve this issue with Frankie.”

  Help him? It wasn’t exactly help he wanted from Ileana. When he’d decided that, he didn’t quite know. He only knew that spending time with Ileana had somehow become more important to him than meeting Frankie Cantrell.

  He was trying to think of a nice way to dismiss Chloe’s suggestion when he caught the sound of approaching footsteps directly behind him.

  As Mac turned to see who was joining them, Chloe said, “Quint, how good of you to come this morning.”

  The dark-haired man was dressed lik
e Mac, in hat and boots and worn jeans. He was tall with broad shoulders and at least twelve years younger than Mac, but his rugged features implied a maturity that belied his age.

  Quint. As Mac rolled the name through his head, it suddenly struck him as to where he’d heard it. This man was Frankie Cantrell’s son! This man could possibly be his half brother! The notion nearly paralyzed Mac.

  With an easy smile, the young man assured Chloe, “No trouble.”

  As her gaze swung guardedly from one man to the other, Chloe took Quint by the arm and turned him toward Mac.

  “Quint, this is the man I wanted you to meet. Mac McCleod. Mac, this is Quint Cantrell, Frankie’s son.”

  The whole situation felt totally surreal to Mac as he thrust his hand out to the younger man. “Nice to meet you, Quint.”

  “Same here,” Quint replied.

  Mac cleared his throat, yet the effort did little to ease the lump of emotion that had suddenly lodged behind his Adam’s apple.

  “I didn’t realize Chloe had invited you here to the ranch this morning,” Mac candidly admitted.

  Quint tossed a fond look at Ileana’s mother. “When this lady calls, I usually come running.”

  Well, Mac thought, Chloe had taken the question of whether to talk to Frankie’s children out of his hands. With Quint here, he could hardly avoid talking about his mother—their mother. Oh, God, could this be any worse for both of them?

  Yes, Frankie could be dead and then no one would know what really happened thirty years ago.

  “Now that you’re here, Quint,” Chloe spoke up, “I have horses to tend to. If you men will excuse me, I’ll get out of your way so you can get acquainted.”

  Both men watched the woman make her way back to the barn. Once she was totally out of sight, awkward silence settled in until Quint finally suggested, “Would you like to walk to the other side of the track? Down below this shelf of mountain there’s a pasture full of yearlings you might like to see.”

  Grateful that the young man was making an effort to be friendly, Mac nodded. “Sure. It’s kind of cold just standing here, anyway.”

  Quint smiled briefly. “Chloe tells me you’re from South Texas. I guess this mountain air does feel chilly.”

  “I’m getting a bit more used to it,” Mac admitted.

  With mutual concession the two men turned to the right and began strolling along the outside rail of the exercise track. As they walked Mac was acutely aware of the younger man’s presence, and for some odd reason it suddenly struck Mac that he was far, far from Texas, from everything familiar, from Ripp and home.

  “I really don’t know what to say,” Quint said after they’d walked a few yards in silence. “The whole story that Chloe told me sounds rather fantastic.”

  “You’re right. It does,” Mac said soberly.

  “Chloe says you have letters from my mother and that they were mailed to a family friend of yours.”

  “I didn’t know Chloe planned to say anything to you,” Mac admitted. “I wasn’t sure—I didn’t want to concern you or your sister if this turned out to be untrue. But now that Chloe has let you in on part of it, you might as well hear everything.”

  Quint nodded. “I’d appreciate that, Mac. This whole thing is…well, it’s pretty much shaken my sister and me. Hell, it’s more than shaken us—we’re both in a daze! And we don’t know what to think…except that we’ve got to find out the truth about all this.”

  Mac let out a breath of relief. At least this man wasn’t accusing him of being a crackpot or threatening legal action to keep him away from Frankie. Apparently, he must have recognized a thread of truth to Mac’s story.

  Mac said, “We only learned about the letters a little over two weeks ago. My brother and I were both shocked when Oscar Andrews, Betty Jo’s son, brought the letters to us. You see, we…well, for thirty years we haven’t known whether our mother was alive or dead.”

  Pausing on the rocky ground, Quint looked at him squarely. “And you think Frankie, my mother, is that woman?”

  “I can’t think anything else. In the letters she mentions my brother and me by name. How else would she have known us?”

  The younger man sighed as he shook his head back and forth in disbelief. “I don’t know. It doesn’t make sense. She’s mentioned that she used to live in Texas when she was young and that she still had a few friends there. But she never went to visit. And she certainly never talked about being married before or having children. It’s like—”

  “She wanted to forget she ever had us,” Mac finished for him.

  Quint’s jaw dropped, and Mac could see that the young man felt badly for him. Mac didn’t want his sympathy. After all, they’d both been misled and the way he viewed it, Quint was just as much a victim as he.

  Looking down at the toes of his boots, Quint said, “I didn’t want to say it like that, but I guess it does look that way. I can’t believe that Mother would just go off and leave two sons behind. She’s not that sort of woman. She’s always been dedicated to my sister and me. She—well, at times she can even be too clingy to her children. Does that sound like a woman who could walk away from two sons?”

  Quint Cantrell’s gaze was direct and forthright. But Mac was noticing far more than that about the man. His eyes were blue, the same azure color as Mac’s mother. The notion struck him, crushed him with all the implications of having siblings he’d not known about. Of not having his mother’s love while this man had been showered with her affection.

  “From a law officer’s standpoint, I’d have to agree with you. It sounds totally out of character.”

  Quint jammed his hands in his pockets, and Mac realized the other man wasn’t wearing gloves or a jacket. Maybe that’s why his face was pinched, his shoulders shivering.

  “I guess Ileana has told you all about Mom’s illness,” he said.

  “A bit. She believes in protecting her patient’s privacy. But she made it clear that Frankie is too fragile to discuss this yet. And I respect her decision.”

  Quint regarded him thoughtfully. “I’ll be honest with you, Mac. Mom’s health is precarious at best. She needs heart surgery, but she won’t discuss it. Ever since Dad died, it’s like she wants to die, too.”

  “Have you tried to change her mind about the surgery?”

  “Oh, yes. Alexa and I have tried. When we talk about it, she only gets angry. You see, when Dad died, my parents had been married for twenty-eight years. They were very close, and I don’t think she’s ever recovered from his death.”

  “My father died, too. About six years ago,” Mac told him. “It’s been hard not to have him around. Although, I can’t imagine what he would think about his sons going on a search for their mother. He was very bitter about Mom’s leaving. He practically forbade us to mention her name.”

  Quint looked at him curiously. “Why was that? I’ve heard of sour divorces, but that was carrying things a bit too far, wasn’t it?”

  Mac shrugged. “From what my brother and I can glean from acquaintances, when Frankie left her family, she moved in with Will Tomlin, a man who owned a tire business in town. We’re not exactly sure how long she lived with him before she left for parts unknown. Only a few weeks, we think. Will moved away from Goliad County not long after Frankie did, and no one around town could give us information as to his whereabouts now. Anyway, back when all this was happening, Dad had to try to hold his head up while his wife flaunted an affair with a local townsman. It was rough on him.”

  Quint looked around him as though he needed to find a place to sit down. Mac understood the other man’s feeling all too well.

  “God, this is—It just can’t be the same woman, Mac. The one appears to be exactly opposite of the other. My mother has always been a good, honest woman. It’s impossible to believe anything else.”

  Feeling utterly terrible, Mac reached over and squeezed the other man’s shoulder. “I understand, and I’m sorry about this, Quint. Maybe when your mother gets well, we
’ll find out that she never was Frankie McCleod.”

  Quint’s expression was anything but hopeful. “Yeah, maybe. But I don’t believe so. All I ask, Mac, is that whenever you do finally get to see Mother…be as gentle as you can be.”

  That terrible lump had suddenly returned to Mac’s throat. “I’d never planned to be any other way.”

  Later that day at the Saunders Family Clinic, Ileana worked through the last of her patients, then made her way over to Sierra General to wind up her workday. It was Friday, and this coming weekend she would not be on hospital call. Thankfully, a fellow physician would be handling her rounds for her. So barring some horrible emergency, Ileana’s time would be free for the next two days.Because her Friday patient list had been short, it was still daylight when she drove across the ranch, then up the mountain to where her log house was perched on a shelf that overlooked the Hondo Valley.

  Eight years ago, when Ileana had turned thirty, she’d had the house built for herself. Up until that time, she’d lived with her parents in the main ranch house. And even though she’d always gotten along very well with her parents, she’d wanted to give them and herself more privacy.

  Compared to the main house, the log house with its green tin roof was modest in size. But with Ileana living alone and with not much hope of ever having a family, she’d figured it had plenty of space for her.

  Now, as she parked her truck and grabbed her handbag from the bench seat, she paused to gaze through the windshield at her home. The log structure sat snugly against the mountainside. Attached to the front, and shaded by one lone Aspen growing just to its left, a wide wooden deck with a waist-high rail ran the length of the structure.

  Because of the steep terrain, there wasn’t much of a yard. And since Ileana didn’t have all that much time to devote to gardening, she’d left the rugged ground dotted with twisted juniper, yucca plants, choya cacti and clumps of blue sage.

  Ileana figured the place would be too isolated and wild for most folks. Yet as she left the truck and climbed the steep wooden stairs leading up to the deck, she wondered what Mac would think of it.