Heart of Texas Vol. 2 (22 page)

He hadn't, so he turned to look—and roared with laughter. Sure enough, she'd gotten a sticker. It read:
Texas Crude.

“Not only that, I'm listening to Reba, Clint, John Berry and Alabama.”

Cal loved it. “Wonderful.”

She laughed and he discovered that he liked the sound of it. Soon he was chuck ling himself, and for no damn reason that he could think of. Hmm. Something like this could ruin his reputation as a curmudgeon.

“You ready?” he asked.

“Ready as I'll ever be,” she said, then exhaled a deep sigh.

Cal led the way. He'd already chosen Atta Girl for her and brought the horse out of the paddock. Atta Girl was a gentle chestnut mare who'd delivered six foals over the past ten years. Cal trusted her to treat the green horn with patience.

“This is Atta Girl,” he said, rubbing his hand down the mare's neck.

Jane stood directly in front of the animal. “Pleased to meet you,” she said with the same seriousness she might have used to address the bank manager.

“She isn't going to shake your hand,” Cal said, struggling not to smile.

Jane gave him a glance that said she didn't find him all that funny, but he noticed she had a hard time containing her amusement, too. It'd been a long time since anyone had affected him this way.

“I thought we'd start with you learning how to saddle her,” he said. Once she was familiar with the basics, he'd let her mount.

Jane nibbled her lower lip. “Before I put a saddle on her back, I thought maybe Atta Girl and I should talk this over.”

He assumed she was joking, but it soon became obvious she wasn't. Apparently she intended to have some polite conversation with Atta Girl first.

“I thought you might like to get a good look at me,” Jane said, just as if she were talking to a person. “It must be frustrating to carry someone around without being able to see who it is.”

Cal tried not to roll his eyes, but didn't succeed. At this rate it'd take a month of Sundays to get her on Atta Girl's back.

“She can't really see you, anyway,” Cal felt honor bound to tell Jane.

“Do you mean to say you gave me a blind horse?”

He shook his head. “Horses are notorious for having bad eyesight. You notice how far apart her eyes are? How they're on either side of her face?”

Jane looked at one side of Atta Girl's face and then the other.

“Because of that, horses have what you might call a broad view of things, and although they can tell when there's something approaching, what they generally see are shadowy figures.”

“Oh,” Jane said and tentatively touched the mare's soft
muzzle. “In that case, Atta Girl, you need carrots. Lots and lots of carrots. I'll bring you some on my next visit.”

“While we're at it,” Cal said, “it's probably not a good idea to approach a horse from the rear. It's an ugly way to die.”

“How reassuring,” Jane muttered.

“Not to worry, you're safe with Atta Girl.”

“At least her name isn't something like Killer.”

“That was her sire's name,” Cal teased.

Jane placed her hands on her hips. “Are you trying to scare me?”

“Would I do something like that?” he inquired, the picture of innocence. While he had her attention, he told her a number of other facts she should know. Riding information, as well as bits and pieces of horse lore. She listened with complete concentration. Not until she'd grown accustomed to riding would she really experience the thrill of it. Nothing in life could compare with galloping through a field of wild flowers on a warm spring day with the wind in your face.

“What kind of relationship do you have with your horse?” she asked. “Do you think of him the way Roy Rogers thought of Trigger?”

“Probably not.” He hoped he wasn't shattering any illusions. “Thunder's a loyal partner, but he's not my best friend. The tricks he knows aren't going to end up on any television show, but he cuts cattle better than any pony I've ever ridden.” Cal paused, wondering whether to add the next part. “Also, I'm not having him stuffed when he eventually goes.”

Jane looked startled, but recovered quickly. She asked a number of intelligent questions, which he answered to the best of his ability.

“You ready to saddle her up?” he asked.

Jane drew a deep breath and nodded.

Having been around horses his entire life, Cal had no fear
of them. Respect, yes, but not fear. Jane was intimidated; following his example, though, she refused to show it. Nor would she allow her intimidation to stop her from getting on with the lesson.

Cal brought out the brushes, a blanket, the saddle and tack. He taught her by demonstrating and then letting her do it herself. Atta Girl was everything he'd expected. To his amusement Jane stopped what she was doing several times, walked around to the horse's head and spoke to her. Anyone might have thought they were actually communicating.

“You're sure this isn't too much trouble for you?” she asked Atta Girl next.

“Jane,” Cal muttered, thinking she was quite possibly the most sensitive person he'd ever met. Also the most ridiculous, but he found himself more entertained than annoyed.

By the time she had the saddle on, it was close to seven and twilight was beginning.

“We'll save the actual ride for another lesson,” he said. “But it'd be a shame if you didn't at least mount her after all this.” Jane's expression was skeptical. “You think I should? Tonight?”

He nodded, then watched as she walked around to discuss the prospect with Atta Girl. “Does she have any objection?” Cal asked as a joke.

“She doesn't seem to,” Jane said, apparently taking him seriously.

“I'll help you adjust the stirrups,” he said. It was a skill that demanded experience and time. “You're doing great.”

“I'll bet that's what they said to Custer before the Battle of Little Big Horn,” she complained, then put her foot in the left stirrup and heaved herself up.

Apparently the cinch wasn't as tight as it should have been,
because before he could warn her, the saddle slid sideways, sending her directly under Atta Girl's stomach. Jane let out a cry of alarm while Atta Girl pranced about in an effort to maintain her balance. Cal held his breath, fearing the mare would in advertently step on Jane. To his amazement he watched her roll out from under the horse and leap to her feet. Indiana Jones had nothing on Dr. Texas!

“Are you okay?” Cal asked. Everything had happened so fast he'd barely had time to react. He took hold of Atta Girl's reins and quickly re assured the frightened mare by speaking gently to her.

“That does it,” Jane said breathlessly, her hand over her heart.

“You're quitting?” Cal asked, not that he blamed her. She'd had quite a scare.

“No, I'm joining Weight Watchers. I damn near downed that poor horse.”

Cal stared at her, then started to chuckle. The laughter came deep from inside him, and nothing could have held it back. Nothing. It was as though two years of fun and laughter had been confined inside him, waiting for precisely this moment. A few hours with Jane Dickinson, and all the pent-up enjoyment of life came spilling out of him in waves of un re strained delight.

“Well, I'm glad you find this so funny,” she said.

Tears ran down his cheeks and he wiped them aside with the back of his hand. “Damn, but I can't remember when I laughed so hard.” Jane crossed her arms, and not wanting his reaction to offend her, he gave her a brief hug. “You're a good sport, Jane.”

She muttered something unintelligible.

“And listen, there's no need for you to lose weight—you're perfect just the way you are. The saddle slipped because the
cinch wasn't tight enough. It had nothing to do with your size.”

She seemed none the worse for wear and within seconds she was smiling, too. “You're willing to give me another lesson?”

“You bet, Dr. Texas.”

Her smile broadened.

In fact, Cal could hardly wait. This was the most fun he'd had in years. Even Jennifer, the woman he'd loved enough to marry, had never provoked this much reaction in him—apart from the anger and humiliation he felt when she'd dumped him.

“Next week?” Jane asked.

Cal nodded, but waiting an entire week for her second lesson was too long. He wanted to see her again soon.

“Can you make it Tuesday, Dr. Texas?”

She laughed. “You bet, cowboy—and at least my jeans are broken in now.”

 

J
ANE RETURNED TO HER HOUSE,
threw off her clothes and soaked in a hot tub. She couldn't very well claim she was saddle sore, seeing that she hadn't so much as managed to sit on a horse. But she'd taxed rarely used muscles in her effort to avoid being trampled by Atta Girl.

All Cal had done was laugh, and while he might have been amused, she'd been frightened out of her wits. But all's well that ends well, she decided, not sure if it was the desire to learn to ride or her attraction to Cal that had prompted her to agree to a second lesson.

She liked him. A lot.

Climbing out of the tub, she dressed in a light robe, made some popcorn for dinner and settled down in front of the
television with a rented video. The tape had just started when the phone rang.

It was so rare for her phone to ring that she stared at it for a moment. Any emergency calls came through her beeper. At last she picked it up.

“Hello?”

“Janey, it's Mom. How are you, sweetheart?”

“I'm feeling wonderful.” She reached for the remote control and stopped the movie. Since her arrival in Promise she'd tried to hide her unhappiness from her parents. Now she was eager to share the good news of making friends and becoming part of the community.

“You sound terrific.”

“Listen, honey,” her father said, speaking from the extension, “your letter arrived this afternoon. What's all this about a ghost town?”

Excited after her discussion with Dovie, Jane had written home, elaborating on the story, adding bits of speculation and her decision to learn everything she could. From what Dovie had said, the frontier town was real; information had been passed down from one generation to the next. But still, a person could grow up believing in some historical “fact” and later learn it had been a legend with little or no basis in reality.

“Do you honestly believe there's such a place as Bitter End?” her mother asked.

“I don't know, but I'd like to find out.”

“How do you intend to do that?” her father wanted to know. “You didn't tell us in your letter.”

“I don't know….” Dovie had told her there weren't any roads leading to the ghost town, and a quick survey of an area map revealed a thousand spots where the old town might be.

“I'm as fascinated by all this as you are,” her mother said. “I've always loved history, too.”

“What interests me is the mystery involved,” Jane murmured.

“You mean why everyone left the town?” her father asked.

“Yes. If I understood Dovie correctly, the town was thriving. Then over night everyone just packed up and moved away. Actually they came here, to Promise.”

“And nobody knows why they abandoned one town and founded another,” her mother said.

“That's right. No one seems to know. Dovie's never been there herself, but from what she told me there's a good possibility the entire town is still standing.”

“But it's over a hundred years old.”

“Over 130. As far as I've been able to find out from reading state history, the original settlers were probably a mixed bag of immigrants, outlaws and Southern sympathizers who'd lost everything in the Civil War. That was pretty typical of the people who came to Texas at that time. Most of them had packed up what was left of their worldly belongings and traveled here, hoping to put the war behind them.”

“I'm fascinated,” her mother said again. “I'll do some research and see if I can find any books that mention Bitter End.”

“Thanks, Mom, that'd be great.”

“It sounds from your letter,” her father said, “as if you're enjoying Texas. This last letter was a lot less…reserved than before.”

Jane chuckled. “Well, I've got a complete cowgirl outfit now, and one of the local ranchers calls me Dr. Texas.”

It was her father's turn to chuckle. “Don't let him give you any ideas. You're Dr. California, understand?”

She did. She was following in her grandfather's and her uncle Ken's foot steps. As soon as her student loans were paid off, she'd be joining her uncle's medical practice in Los Angeles. One day she'd inherit the practice. Uncle Ken claimed she was his favorite niece. While a couple of her cousins had shown an interest in medicine, she was the only one who'd taken it seriously. The schooling had been difficult, her internship and residency demanding. She'd given up every aspect of a social life and been left to deal with a huge debt.

Her parents had helped her out financially, but medical school was expensive. Her uncle had offered to help, too. Still, when the opportunity arose to wipe out most of her debt by working in Texas, she'd leaped at the idea. Three years was nothing. The time would pass before she knew it, or so she'd believed.

Her first six months in Promise had proved otherwise.

Until recently.

Until she met Cal Patterson.

L
ATE
M
ONDAY NIGHT
F
RANK SAT
in his patrol car outside Dovie Boyd's home, mulling over what he should do next. He was miserable, and he knew she was, too. He'd loved Dovie for a lot of years, but this was the first time he'd encountered her stubbornness. It was enough to drive a man to drink.

Louise Powell, dressed to the hilt in her Texas trash, complete with star-shaped sun glasses and a silvery hat with a rhinestone band, had approached him at the bowling alley café. She'd let it drop that Dovie had booked a singles' Caribbean cruise. Now if that didn't beat all. Louise had gotten the information from Gayla Perkins at the travel agency and had taken great delight in rubbing his nose in it.

It was down right embarrassing. Here was the town gossip, flapping her tongue all over the county, telling everyone who cared to hear that Dovie was seeking greener pastures.

His fingers tightened around the steering wheel as he reviewed his options. He'd tried, heaven knew he'd tried, but damn it all, he loved Dovie and he didn't want to lose her, especially to another man.

He checked his wrist watch and knew she hadn't gone to bed
yet. He sighed deeply, remembering the times they'd cuddled up together on her big feather bed, watching television. She'd made the everyday routines of life special, adding her own little touches here and there. She sun-dried the bedsheets, then stored them with woven lavender wands so that when he crawled in beside her he felt their cool crispness and breathed in the light perfumed scent of summer.

Dinner, too, was something special. Dovie set her table with a linen cloth and napkins, using china and real crystal. She could serve home-baked macaroni and cheese with the panache of the finest restaurant.

Damn, but he missed her.

Swallowing his pride, Frank stepped out of the car and approached the house. He had to try one last time. If he couldn't get her to listen to reason tonight, then he'd have no choice but to accept her decision.

As was his habit, he parked the car around the corner, out of sight from the street, and approached through the backyard. He missed their nights together more than he would've thought possible. He knew Dovie, and she was lusty and vital, a real woman with a woman's needs. It was a source of consolation to realize she must miss their nights together, too.

He knocked lightly on the back door and waited, hat in hand.

The porch light went on and he saw her pull aside the lace curtain and peek out. It was several long seconds before she unlocked the door and opened it.

“Hello, Dovie.” He kept his gaze lowered. Coming to her like this wasn't easy.

“Frank.”

He didn't speak, but merely raised his eyes to hers. He loved her, as much as he was capable of loving any woman. Surely she knew that! But he wasn't the marrying kind. He couldn't help
it; he needed his freedom in order to breathe. Marriage, even to Dovie whom he adored, would feel like a noose around his neck.

Everything had been perfect. They'd each had their own lives and a life together, too. He had his house and she had hers. Two nights a week he joined her for mutual pleasure. He was willing to do whatever it took, short of marriage, to return to that arrangement.

“It's not true,” she said, breaking the silence, “about the singles' cruise. I don't know who told you that, but I'm not looking for another man.”

A weight seemed to lift from his shoulders. So she wasn't seeking out someone else. Although he was grateful, all he could manage was a nod.

“I've just decided to do some traveling,” she told him.

“Why?” That was another thing he'd always loved about Dovie—she enjoyed the simple pleasures in life. She shunned luxuries, content with a walk in the moon light when he would gladly have taken her out for an evening at a fancy restaurant.

“I've lived my entire life in Promise,” she explained. “If I don't travel now, I never will. I understand the Caribbean is lovely and I've always dreamed of visiting the islands there. At one time I thought I'd see it with—”

“I'll take you.” If all she wanted was a trip, a vacation away, he'd book their passage in the morning. No questions asked. Anywhere in the world she wanted to go.

“As your wife, Frank?”

The bubble of hope he'd felt burst with her words. “Oh, Dovie, you know I can't do that.”

“Yes, I do know. That's why I'll be traveling without you.”

The frustration was almost in tolerable. “Don't you miss me?” he cried. He ached with the need to hold her.

She looked away but not before he saw the sheen of tears in her eyes.

“I miss you so much,” she whispered.

“Oh, Dovie.” He reached for her hand and kissed her palm. “Can't we work this out like two adults? I love you and you love me. It's all we need, all we've ever needed.”

Her skin was silky smooth and touching it fired all his love, all his passion. “Let me spend the night.” His eyes pleaded with her.

Her long hesitation gave him hope.

“No,” she finally whispered.

“Dovie, you don't mean that!”

“I do mean it.” She eased her hand from his grasp.

Frank couldn't believe this was happening. He'd come so close to convincing her—and he wasn't about to give up without a fight.

“I'm a man with strong needs,” he said, hoping that would influence her.

“I love you, but I'm not sleeping with you again, Frank, not unless we're married.”

“Dovie.” He groaned her name. Damn it, the time had come to play hardball, acquaint her with a few facts. “There are other women in Promise who'd welcome my attention.” He was a handsome cuss and he knew it, but there wasn't a woman in the world he wanted more than Dovie Boyd.

“Yes, I'm sure any number of them would,” Dovie said.

Frank saw the hurt in her eyes and was furious with himself for suggesting he'd consider seeing anyone else. But he'd tried everything possible to get her to listen to reason.

“Perhaps another woman
would
be the best answer,” Dovie murmured. She stepped back from the threshold.

He opened his mouth to tell her he'd been only bluffing, but he wasn't given the opportunity. Dovie's door was closed firmly in his face. He stared at it in stunned silence.

Hell and damnation, the woman drove him crazy! It'd serve her right if he did go out with someone else. Maybe then she'd realize what she was giving up; maybe then she'd come to her senses. Yup, that was what he'd do, Frank decided. She was taking a fancy cruise and plenty of eligible men were bound to come sniffing around. Well, he was entitled to some compensations, too.

Eventually, he hoped she'd accept that, even though he loved her with all his heart, he wasn't about to let her or any other woman maneuver him into marriage. In a few months he'd be sixty-one years old. He'd managed to avoid marriage so far. Why would he change now? Marriage was a trap, especially for a man like him—despite those sentimental beliefs of Dovie's.

But as soon as she learned he was seeing another woman, she'd be back. What had begun as a bluff now sounded like a good strategy. Dovie needed some competition; that way she'd realize how good they'd had it. One thing about Dovie, she was a fast learner.

Frank felt another faint stirring of hope. Before long, he told himself, Dovie would be begging him to come back.

 

E
ARLY
T
UESDAY AFTERNOON
Ellie stepped outside the feed store and inserted a few coins in the pop machine. The morning had been hectic and she was grateful for this respite, however brief. She opened the can of soda and saw Jane Dickinson walking across the street.

“Jane,” she called, raising her hand in greeting. “Come on over.”

Jane returned the wave, glanced both ways, then crossed the street.

Ellie's father had recognized early in his career the importance of customer relations. He'd strived to make the feed store a friendly place in which to conduct business. He'd wanted to give ranchers and anyone else who dropped off an order a cozy place to sit and chat. The large shaded porch had been furnished with chairs and a pop machine for that purpose.

She and Glen had spent many an afternoon in this very spot. They'd been friends long before they'd fallen in love—a love it took them far too long to recognize or acknowledge. Even now, a month after their wedding, it astonished her that they could have been so blind to their feelings.

“Hi,” Ellie greeted Jane. “I heard about the riding lesson,” she said carefully.

Jane smiled and claimed an empty seat beside Ellie. “It went okay—I think. Cal's teaching me with Atta Girl, and other than damn near toppling the mare, I did fine.”

Glen had told Ellie the story of the saddle slipping during Jane's first lesson. He reported that Cal had laughed so hard in his telling of the story he was almost incomprehensible. It'd taken Glen a while to understand what had happened.

“Actually I'm amazed you're willing to go back for a second lesson, seeing the way Cal behaved,” Ellie said, wanting to kick her brother-in-law for his lack of manners.

At the mention of his name, Jane's face brightened. “He was great,” she said. “Patient and gentle.”

Ellie wondered if she was having a hearing problem. It wasn't possible that they were referring to the same person.
“Cal?”

Jane eyed her. “Yes, Cal. He's the one who's teaching me.”

“I've never heard him referred to as patient and gentle, at least not since Jennifer—” Ellie stopped abruptly.

“Who's Jennifer?” Jane asked.

Ellie sighed inwardly. She'd already mentioned Cal's former fiancée so she might as well continue. “She and Cal were…friendly at one time.”

“Friendly?”

“An item.”

“How much of an item?”

Ellie could see there was no help for it. “They were engaged.”

Jane didn't respond right away. “I see.”

Ellie wouldn't have said another word if Jane hadn't pressed. Would have preferred it that way. Apparently Cal was quite taken with the new doctor, and she didn't want to be responsible for up set ting this hopeful turn of events.

“Do you mind telling me what happened?”

That was difficult. If this had concerned anyone other than Cal, Ellie would have suggested Jane simply ask him. But for the past two years Cal had closed himself off from most people as a result of the broken engagement. And he'd rejected the possibility of any other relationship with a woman. Ellie didn't want to scare Jane off; if anything she wanted to encourage a romance between these two lonely people.

Glen had been shocked when he learned that Cal had offered to teach Jane to ride. Even Ellie had been surprised. And delighted. Naturally she'd
hoped
he'd volunteer, but she'd believed it'd take some champion finagling on her part. The last thing she'd expected was for Cal to volunteer on his own.

Ellie hesitated, wondering how much she should say. “There isn't really that much to tell.”

“I don't mean to pry,” Jane said.

“Well…you should probably know,” Ellie said. “Cal never did tell us exactly what went wrong. He loved Jennifer.
Anyone looking at the two of them could see the way he felt about her.”

Jennifer, though, wasn't the type Ellie would have chosen for her brother-in-law, but then, Cal hadn't sought her opinion. Glen hadn't been impressed by Jennifer, either, but like Ellie, had kept his views to himself. Ellie had met Jennifer, who'd worked at a local branch of a large bank, in the course of business. She'd quickly decided Jennifer Healy was selfish and manipulative, an opinion shared by a number of other people Ellie knew.

“I gather they disagreed about something, and two days before the wedding,” Ellie continued, “Jennifer called the whole thing off. She gave him back the ring and left town.”

“Moved?”

“To Houston. Glen heard sometime later that she was living with a salesman.”

“She walked out two days before the wedding,” Jane repeated slowly.

“A big family wedding,” Ellie elaborated. “Cal was stuck with phoning all the guests and telling them the wedding was off. He had to return gifts, cancel all the arrangements…Humiliating, huh? Naturally, everyone speculated about what had gone wrong. But Cal didn't want to answer questions, so he re treated. Didn't come into town for months.”

“It must have been a painful time for him.”

Ellie nodded. “He wasn't the same afterward.”

Jane's eyes asked the obvious question although she didn't voice it.

Ellie answered it, anyway. “He likes you, Jane. You know something? In two years you're the first woman he's done more than speak a few gruff words to.”

“Me?” Jane flattened her palm against her chest.

“Yes. I know I'm right. He likes you.”

Jane laughed and shook her head. “I don't think so.”

“He's teaching you to ride, isn't he?”

“Yes, but I suspect that's because he felt sorry for me.” Ellie dismissed the excuse with a shake of her head. “You don't know Cal the way I do. Since Jennifer walked out on him, his attitude toward women has been less than charitable. Trust me, he's interested in you.”

 

WITH
E
LLIE'S WORDS RINGING
in her ears, Jane headed out to Lonesome Coyote Ranch for her second riding lesson. It'd been four days since her last one and she was looking forward to learning more. About horse back riding, yes, but also about Cal Patterson.

Ellie had said it'd been two years since Cal's broken engagement. Two years since he'd participated in anything social. What her friend didn't know was that it'd been even longer for Jane. She was twenty-eight years old and couldn't remember her last real date. There'd been a few get-togethers with other medical students, but even these had been severely cur tailed during her intern ship and residency. When it came to dating, high-school girls had more experience and finesse than she did.