Small Town, Big Secrets (Trinity River)

by Elsie Davis

  Steve drove down Main Street, scanning the area to make sure he didn’t see anyone he knew, before parking the car. He chose a narrow back street to make his way to the meeting hall. The door was unlocked, and he slipped inside. The sound of raised voices drew his attention, and he headed in their direction. The men looked up as he entered the room, all voices ceasing.

  “Good evening, Steve. Welcome. Come on in.” Jerry stood and crossed the room to shake his hand.

  “Most of you know Steve Parker, but for those of you who don’t, he’s Judge Parker’s boy. He’s come to find out more about what’s going on with the Savings and Loan foreclosures and see what he can do to help. And he would appreciate it if his presence wasn’t something discussed outside this room.” Jerry clapped a hand on his shoulder, showing the men, as well as telling them, that he trusted Steve.

  “Since when would Judge Parker allow anyone, especially his own son, to help us?” Except for at least one guy present, anyway. Not that he blamed the guy. He’d be a doubting Thomas, too.

  “Now, now,” Jerry said. “Settle down. You need to give him a chance. I trust him, which is why I reached out to him in the first place.” Jerry was trying to control the situation, but the others joined in, voicing their doubts.

  “Why? His daddy’s authorizing every one of these foreclosures,” another man huffed.

  Steve wanted to take control before the meeting got out of hand. “Gentleman, that’s why I’m here. Last time I checked, my name was Steve Parker, not Judge Parker, and I make my own decisions.” He had heard the rumors of his dad’s connection, although he wasn’t sure they were rumors. And though his father was family, for Steve, the law came first. Something his father had taught him at an early age. Although, for Steve, the law meant upholding the rules established, not bending them for personal gain.

  “Well, then, what do you propose we do to stop your daddy and all them other thieves stealing our land?” another man spoke up, this one in overalls and a grubby white T-shirt, looking like he’d just come from his fields.

  “First of all, Judge Parker is the courtroom authority, not the bank authority. And it’s the bank doing the foreclosing. Let’s not forget that. Who’s buying the land? Anyone tracking that?” Steve stepped forward, closing the distance between him and the men. “I’ve already talked to a few of you, but I need as much information as you have if I’m going to help.”

  “Different people. City folk. And not one of them has done anything to do with the ten properties already foreclosed on in Tumble County. And I’m next on the chopping block.” It was Travis McDougall, Sr. who spoke this time, the first property owner who’d approached him in Houston for advice.

  “Not if I can help it,” Steve assured him. “As a short-term measure, I want to set up an emergency fund for landowners. It’s not free money, but a small loan to tide ranchers and farmers over and cover their payments until you all get back on your feet. It will serve to hold off any more foreclosures.” He delivered the news, knowing it might be the final thing they needed to hear to give him a chance. To trust him. He might have left Riverbend, but it didn’t mean the small town didn’t hold a place in his heart. And these people needed hope.

  “Where are you planning to come up with that kind of money?” Travis asked.

  “I’m talking privately to some investors who might be willing to do short-term loans for a fee.”

  “Sounds like fancy talk for something that might or might not happen, and even if it did, it would be too late for me. I’ve only got thirty days. Nope, make that twenty-nine now.” Travis’s voice held a note of worn-out despair.

  Steve nodded, letting out a deep breath. “I’m working on it, and Travis, you’re first on the list of approvals.”

  “I don’t want no charity. That land’s been in the family for over one hundred years, and I don’t want to be the one to fail, but charity, that just doesn’t sit right in a man’s craw.” He knew Travis was a proud man. Most of these men were. And he needed to convince them it was a good plan.

  “It’s not charity. It’s a short-term temporary loan, managed and overseen by someone we hire to monitor the situation. There are others who need help. Don’t let pride get in your way.”

  “Well, it’s not like I got a son to leave it to, anyway. So why fight it?” Travis huffed, his harsh words proof he still grieved for his son, even after two years. Steve had heard about the man going MIA in the army and then presumed dead. It had come as a shock to the community, one that rippled through the state of Texas and the country. Several others were lost in the same overseas assignment.

  “Because it’s your home. You still have your wife and daughter to think about. I hear your daughter is quite the horsewoman. Ever stop and think she might want the ranch?” Steve wanted to help, but McDougall needed to move forward in his thinking and past his grief.

  “She’s a woman. She should be getting married and having babies,” he huffed. Several others nodded in agreement. Several of the older guys, he corrected. The younger guys shook their heads, not at all in agreement.

  Steve laughed. “Quit living in the old world, Travis, and talk to your daughter. You might find out you have a lot to fight for.”

  “Humph. I’m not saying I will or I won’t, but I’ll think on it overnight.” It was a start.

  “As soon as I have the money, I’ll set up the fund, but I want my name left out of this. No one can know who’s putting all this together.” Steve glanced around the room, making sure everyone here understood he meant every word.

  “Afraid it will cost you the election? There’s a lot of political power calling the shots nowadays, and with you running for office, you stand a lot to lose if they find out you’re helping us.”

  The man had zeroed in on Steve’s Achilles heel, but he wasn’t about to enlighten him to the truth. That would require telling why, and so far, Becky was the only one who knew that truth about his relationship, or lack thereof, with Judge Parker. Even Eric hadn’t heard the whole story. But Becky elicited his confidence, and he found her easy to talk to. “No. I just don’t want credit. I only want to help.”

  The meeting lasted another two hours, every rancher taking the time to share where they stood and everyone trying to pitch in and figure out a plan of action. Dropping beef and produce prices in this region was just another example of the suspicious activity going on, the decrease making it even harder on the landowners to keep up with expenses.

  By the time they’d finished, Steve had a pretty clear picture of the situation, even if it wasn’t a good one. “Listen, guys, I’ve got to run. If you find out anything else, Jerry knows how to reach me. And Travis, you do your thinking while I work on the money.” Steve was more than willing to make an early deposit with personal funds if necessary, something he hadn’t bothered to mention to the proud group of men in the room. Casey McDougall died serving his country, and Steve would do everything in his power to help his father save the McDougall ranch. It wasn’t easy for Travis knowing his son would never return.

  The attitude of the group toward him had shifted since his arrival, but there was a thin line between him and Judge Parker, and they all knew it. They were trusting him because Jerry trusted him, and now it was time to earn that trust.

  …

  Steve avoided his mother the following morning, not wanting to be subjected to any probing questions about what he was doing in town. The Judge had finally agreed to meet him this afternoon at Charlie’s, which meant his time in Riverbend was drawing to a close.

  He would have preferred somewhere else to have the conversation with the Judge, but his dad insisted he wanted to eat there. Steve was suspicious at his insistence, but it had taken him some time to force the meeting, so he wouldn’t back out now. Besides, there was the added benefit of seeing Becky again, something he looked forward to a little more than he should.

  And he
knew—it was all in the kiss. Something in the region of his heart had stirred to life when her sweet lips connected with his. With any luck, he’d have a year of those kisses, and not just till the wedding.

  He walked into Charlie’s a few minutes late. His father was already seated toward the front, not in Becky’s section. It was probably for the best if he was expected to concentrate.

  The Judge glanced at his watch, knowing full well what time it was. “Nice to see you could make it.”

  Steve shrugged and sat, unwilling to rise to the bait but not against getting in his own shot. “Nice to see you could finally make it as well.”

  His dad’s eyebrows shot upward, surprise written on his face. Then he grinned and nodded, conceding the hit. “Just busy. You know how it is.”

  “Yes, I do. It’s always been that way for you.”

  “And you,” he said, never taking his eyes off Steve.

  “That’s true.” Steve hoped it was the only thing they had in common.

  “Let’s order first, and then we can talk about whatever is on your mind. Something warranted this lunch request.” The Judge was still trying to maintain control, even when it came to lunch with his son. Some things never changed.

  “The special okay with you? The board says it’s macaroni and tomatoes on toast.”

  “How very uninteresting.” Judge Parker’s upper lip curled slightly at the corner.

  “Everything I’ve eaten here has been great. I’m sure your twenty-dollar appetite will enjoy the five-dollar special.” Steve grinned. “You were the one, after all, who insisted we eat here.” Calling the Judge out as a snob felt good.

  “Fine. Order away.”

  “Hey, Katie,” he said when she approached their table. “Can you bring us a couple of the specials, please? And two iced teas?” he added.

  “I’ll take an IPA,” the Judge corrected. “Need something to help wash down whatever it is we’ll be eating.”

  “Make that two, then. Wouldn’t want you to drink alone.” Steve grinned.

  “Or a case of still trying to be like your old man.”

  Steve rolled his eyes. “Doubt that. No one could be like you.” It wasn’t a compliment.

  “That’s true,” the Judge admitted, cracking the barest hint of a smile. He gazed over at Becky and then back at Steve. “Word on the street is you were seen in a lip lock with our waitress.”

  “Your sources got it wrong.” He wasn’t even the least bit surprised his father had heard already. “It wasn’t Katie. It was Becky. McAllister.” It’s not as if his father didn’t know the truth. The old man was just testing him.

  “I see. Trying to gain voter points for having a loving side to your image? Mingling with the townsfolk.” His father might do business that way, but it had never been Steve’s thing. Until now. The thought didn’t sit well at all. The whole fake engagement and marriage were designed to gain him favor in the polls, his dad’s comment striking far too close to home.

  “Hardly.” It was nothing he’d share with the old man. Sharing confidences was never part of their agenda.

  “It worked for me. Although, in my case, I didn’t have much choice. Be careful, son. Your Becky has already had one son out of wedlock. And you know that’s how your mother got me up the aisle. It was a huge mess and almost ruined my career.” Yes, how could he forget, since his father never missed an opportunity to remind him? Steve was an unplanned and unwanted baby.

  “I know what I’m doing with Becky—don’t worry.” Short for none of the Judge’s business.

  Katie delivered their drinks and then moved off to help another customer.

  His dad shrugged. “What is it you wanted to meet about?”

  It wasn’t over. Not by a long shot. But Steve knew his father would keep an eye on him and find out anything he wanted to know, no matter what resources he needed to use to get the information. “I just wanted to ask you about the McDougalls.” His father’s eyes narrowed, the lines of tension in his face deepening.

  “What about them? Travis McDougall ran his ranch to the ground. Don’t tell me he came whining to you for help? You need to stay out of it. He defaulted on his loan. End of story where you and I are concerned.”

  “But I thought things were getting better now that the drought is over. Isn’t there any way to help him? That family has been in Riverbend since the beginning. They’re a big part of this town.”

  “They let it get too far. Crying shame, but a contract’s a contract. You know that as well as I do. It’s not our job to get involved. Our job is to do what’s right in the eyes of the law.” The Judge sat back in the booth and took a long swig of beer, not at all concerned about the people.

  “He lost his son not long ago. Doesn’t the fact the man was a war hero count for anything to the bank? Or you? It’s been tougher on him than most.”

  “I have to follow the law. He defaulted on his contract. I’m sorry, Steve, there’s nothing I can do to stop it.” Then why didn’t he sound sorry? It all came down to the contracts.

  Maybe it was time he read the loan documents Travis signed when he took out the equity loan to tide him through the drought.

  “I’m sure you heard the Cattleman’s Association has filed a complaint regarding all the recent foreclosures in the county. They’ve assigned an investigator to the case.” Just a little prodding with public information never hurt. One little unintentional slip by the Judge could give Steve the boost he needed to figure out what was going on behind the scenes.

  The Judge sat back, his hardened gaze focused on Steve. “I heard. Waste of time. Bunch of whiny guys looking to blame someone for their own shortfalls. You should steer clear of the investigation as best you can. Poking your nose in where it doesn’t belong could ruin your chances in the election. Not that you’re ready for the job yet, anyway.” The Judge couldn’t help but add the dig, his arrogance a familiar tune. But Steve also couldn’t help but understand the warning in his words. He knew his father and his tactics all too well.

  Steve chose to ignore the jab, staying focused on what was important. “I told the investigator I’d talk to you and see what you had to say.”

  “Nothing to tell. The drought hit them hard, and they’re losing their ranches and farms as a result. End of story. You’ve wasted your time coming here and talking to the ranchers.” Steve had wondered if he’d gotten word about the visits—now he had his answer.

  “Seems that way.” Steve nodded. He could be just as tight-lipped about things as the Judge.

  “Heard your mother is having a surprise dinner for you tonight.” The old man had lots of ears in town.

  “Yes, she wants to show off her future-district-attorney son.”

  Steve wasn’t oblivious to his mother’s motives. It would have been nice if he could have spent the evening with Becky and Byron, but his mother had managed to put a kink in any plans he would have made. And unfortunately, it was too early to introduce Becky to his family. They’d find out soon enough he was dating her.

  It’s the rest that will blow them away.

  “How’s that going, anyway? Still trying to beat me out, are you? It’ll never happen. You’re too young, and the voters know it. Not nearly as experienced as I was at your age.” His dad had the audacity to grin. “But it was a good try.”

  “We’ll see about that.” The election was still six weeks away, and hopefully, his family image was about to improve the ratings. At least, his campaign manager seemed to think it would. Steve sure hoped he was right.

  “If you were experienced, you’d know this dinner party is because your mother heard about your new girlfriend, and she’s hoping you’ll bring her. You need to always look for the ulterior motive.”

  Truer words were never spoken. “Then she’ll be disappointed. I’m not sure Becky’s ready for Mother. We’ve only just met, and I’ve got a
lot going on. It’s not like I’m going to be swept off my feet and fall in love.” The last part was the truth. Love was not on his agenda.

  “That would be the kiss of death to your career. Mark my words. Do what you need to do with her and move on. Words of advice from your old man.”

  Words Steve could live without. “You’ve never been one for advice. Why start now?”

  “I don’t know. Old age?” The Judge laughed.

  “I don’t buy it. You want something from me. What is it?” Steve pressed for more information. His old man always had an ulterior motive if he was being nice.

  “Just in case you do get the D.A. job, you and I would need to talk. We could do great things together. Profitable things.”

  His eyes narrowed. It was nice to know the Judge hadn’t totally discounted the possibility he would win this election.

  “Except there’s one big difference between you and me, Pops.” Steve leaned forward as if he was about to reveal a big secret.

  “What’s that?” One eyebrow shot upward, the Judge eyeing him closely.

  “I’m not driven by money.”

  “Then what are you driven by?”

  “Being better than you.” Steve delivered the bomb he’d longed to say but had never voiced to the old man, an overwhelming sense of freedom washing over him.

  The Judge laughed out loud, his shoulders shaking. “Good luck with that, boy.” He nodded, tossing a twenty on the table, stood, and then turned to leave, making a grand exit. It was always his way.

  But this thing between them wasn’t over yet. Steve was positive his father was at least ankle-deep in the dirty dealings with the landowners, and he was determined to put an end to the foreclosures. He just hoped his father hadn’t crossed any legal lines, because Steve intended to go after everyone involved. Even if it meant the downfall of Judge Parker.

  Chapter Eight

  Becky folded Byron’s pajamas and put them in the drawer. “You need to finish getting dressed. Steve will be here any minute and we can go see Aunt Kayla.”