Heart of Texas Vol. 3 (10 page)

His words had remained with her for a long time.

About a year ago she'd sought out the town herself. According to an article she'd read, abandoned cemeteries and homesteads were often a good source of nineteenth-century roses. That motivation was strong enough to let her put aside her apprehensions about the place. After weeks of searching, she'd stumbled upon the town, hidden deep in the hills. Only then did she understand what her brother had meant.

The instant she'd stepped onto the main street of Bitter End, a feeling had come over her, an eerie sensation of anxiety and dread. And yet she couldn't have named the reason, couldn't have said what she feared.

Afterward she managed to convince herself that she'd imagined the entire episode. So she returned. But she'd been right the first time. Something was there—not a ghost, but a persistent feeling of intense sadness, a haunting sorrow.

“Let him do it, Grady,” she said, releasing a pent-up sigh. “Let him find out what happened in Bitter End. Let Travis Grant expose whatever wrongs were committed there.”

“You think a stranger can do that?”

“He can start.”

Her brother pondered her words, his face thoughtful. Then he slowly shook his head. “It isn't often I disagree with you, but I do now.”

“You're not going to help Travis find Bitter End?”

“No.”

She accepted his decision, but deep down, she wondered how long it would take him to change his mind. Grady was having second thoughts already; otherwise he wouldn't have come to her in the middle of the day. Especially during the busiest time of the year.

Savannah knew she was right, and she knew Grady would eventually see it. Beneath his doubts he, too, felt a need to lay this matter to rest once and for all.

T
ALK ABOUT STIRRING UP
a hornets' nest, Travis mused as he sat and stared at his blank computer screen. Nell had avoided him all day. And after speaking to Grady Weston, it wouldn't surprise him if the other man was busy rounding up ranchers to tar and feather him. All this because he'd asked a few questions about a ghost town. Why were they so intent on keeping this secret, whatever it was?

He wondered if the people here even knew what had happened in that town. Perhaps they were being influenced by fears and vague suspicions rather than facts.

Travis preferred to face problems, not let them fester. He believed in knowledge and the power of truth. Shutting down the computer, he leaned back in the chair, hands behind his head, reviewing his options. Soon, however, he discovered that his thoughts weren't on Bitter End anymore.

Instead, he was thinking about Nell. Despite her disapproval of his plans, he admired her strength and courage. He was attracted to her, he admitted that, and he sensed she felt the same way. Even if she preferred to ignore it.

Travis decided to get a breath of fresh air and he reached for a sweatshirt. He walked out of the bunkhouse and around the yard, stopping to say hello to Yucky. As he neared the front of the house, he was pleased to find Ruth sitting outside in a rocker, crocheting.

“Travis,” she said with a friendly smile. “Come join me.”

After Nell's silence and Grady Weston's explosive anger, Travis was more than grateful for a cordial greeting. He climbed the steps and leaned against the porch railing.

“Was that you I saw on Twister yesterday morning?” Ruth asked.

“Yeah,” he said, not mentioning that he considered himself lucky to be in one piece.

“That gelding's got a mind of his own.”

“So I discovered.”

Ruth laughed, and he grinned himself. The older woman's fingers agilely worked the yarn, never slowing. It amazed him that she could carry on a conversation without disrupting her work.

“What are you making?” It wasn't what Travis wanted to ask—he had questions about Nell. However, any inquiries would have to be a natural part of the conversation. Unobtrusive.

“An afghan,” she answered. “I find crocheting relaxes me.”

He started to comment, but Ruth broke in. “You're curious about Nell, aren't you?”

Her directness surprised as much as pleased him. “I won't deny that I am.”

Ruth nodded. “She's interested in you, as well. I haven't lived with her all these years not to understand the way she thinks. Have you kissed her yet?”

Slightly embarrassed, Travis laughed. “Yes.”

“And?”

“And it was very good.”

“You plan on bedding her?”

“That's none of your business,” Travis said. He wasn't accustomed to discussing his love life with elderly women, or with anyone else, for that matter. However, he'd certainly fantasized about making love to Nell. She was a passionate woman. Their one kiss had given him a glimpse of that. She was also a woman who didn't believe in half measures; it was all or nothing. He knew that when it came to love, loyalty or friendship, she held nothing in reserve.

For that very reason, she was reluctant to become involved with another man. The potential for pain was too great.

That was something Travis understood. The breakup of his marriage had been one of the most painful ordeals of his life. He'd loved Valerie and been stunned to learn that she wanted out of their marriage, that she'd viewed their lives together as a temporary thing until someone “better” came along.

She'd been intrigued with Travis because he was a writer. Later she'd urged him to give it up and get a real job. Everyone knew there wasn't any real money in publishing. Not unless you were Stephen King. She'd been scornful about his financial prospects.

The irony was that she'd left him too soon. Not long after their divorce, he'd hit it big and his books had been selling almost as fast as the publisher could print them. She laughed about her lack of insight now. Once, a year before, she'd tried to lure him into bed, saying she'd made a terrible mistake and wanted him back. It'd flattered his ego, but in the end he'd told her he wasn't interested in sleeping with a married woman.

In the years since the divorce Travis had rarely dated. Friends had tried to match him up and he knew he was considered a catch. But he preferred the comfort of solitude; being alone was better than being with the wrong person.

The next time he fell in love, it would be with a woman who loved him back, heart and soul. A woman willing to make as strong a commitment to him as he did to her. In the years since Val had left him, he hadn't met such a woman.

Until Nell.

“She's a bit prickly at the moment,” Ruth said, and for the first time since he'd joined her, the older woman's fingers paused. “Did you two have a spat?”

“Not really,” Travis said. He didn't bring up the ghost town for fear Ruth would respond the same way Nell and Grady Weston had.

Ruth scowled. “I don't know what's wrong with her, then, but she'll come around. Be patient, you hear?”

Suddenly the screen door burst open and Nell stuck her head out. “Ruth, have you seen—” She stopped midsentence when she noticed Travis.

“Seen what?” Ruth asked, looking almost gleeful at Nell's reaction to him.

“My kitchen scissors.”

“Top drawer, left-hand side. Look under the church directory.”

“'Afternoon, Nell,” Travis said.

“Ohh, Travis.”

It shocked him how his heart raced, how exhilarated he was by the sight of her.

“I'm putting a chicken on to roast,” Nell said, her voice unmistakably nervous.

“Let me help,” he insisted and didn't give her a chance to object.

“Yes, let Travis help,” Ruth murmured, sounding as if she was about to burst into laughter. “Nell's never cooked a chicken in her life.”

Nell marched into the kitchen with Travis following, and just the way she walked told him she wasn't pleased. “I don't need any help roasting a chicken,” she announced brusquely.

“I didn't think you did. I just wanted to talk to you.”

“If it's about Bitter End, there's nothing to say.”

“At least explain to me why everyone reacts this way the minute I say the name.”

“I already have.”

“Tell me again.”

“No.” She paused. “Bitter End's the only reason you came here, isn't it?”

“Yes.” He wasn't going to lie.

“Then there's nothing to talk about.”

“There's everything to talk about.”

She stared at him, her expression wary.

“I want to know what it is about this ghost town that evokes this type of response. Don't you want to find out what caused everyone to leave? Aren't you curious?”

“I don't need to know—no one does,” she said, then dragged in a deep breath. “You don't understand.”

“Then explain it to me.”

“I'm afraid,” she admitted reluctantly. “Afraid it'll be like opening Pandora's box. I really believe that in this case, ignorance might be bliss.”

He frowned.

She shook her head. “Leave it, Travis…please?”

“Fine. I'll leave it—but just for the moment.” He lowered his voice. “Right now I'm more concerned with settling this matter between you and me. We were on the brink of getting to know each other.”

“No, we weren't,” she denied vehemently. “You're reading more into one kiss than you should…You caught me at a weak moment.”

“I want to catch you again.”

“No,” she said with such force she appeared to surprise herself. “Don't even try.”

It took a moment for her words to sink in, and when they did, a slow satisfied smile appeared on his lips. “You liked it that much, did you?”

“No!” she said. “I…I wish it'd never happened.”

“It frightened you half to death, didn't it?”

She shook her head, which sent her braid flying. “This is the most ridiculous conversation I've ever had. It'd be best if you left now.”

“Not on your life. Oh, Nell, sweet Nell, don't you realize I felt it, too?”

“There was nothing to feel, damn it!” She whirled around and headed for the sink. A chicken rested in a pan on the countertop. Reaching for it, she thrust it under the faucet.

“It's only natural for you to be afraid,” he said in low soothing tones as he slowly advanced toward her. He rested his hands on her shoulders, but the instant she felt his touch, she jumped.

“Nell, sweet Nell,” he whispered and kissed the side of her neck.

“Don't do that!”

“Then what about this?” He ran his tongue around her ear and felt a sense of triumph at the almost imperceptible sound of her moan.

“Not that, either,” she said, obviously struggling to put some starch in her voice.

“And this?” he asked as he wrapped his arms around her middle.

The chicken fell unheeded into the sink.

“No one's going to help you…”

“Help me what?”

“Look for the town.”

“Fine, I'll look for it on my own.” He spread a series of nibbling kisses along her neck.

“You won't find it.”

“That's okay because I've found you.”

A shiver moved through her. “I think you should go.”

“Where?” He was far too involved in kissing her neck and her ear to pay much attention. Her words said one thing and her body another. Her hands hung idle at her sides and she let her head fall back, exposing her throat to his mouth.

“Somewhere else…” Her words were barely audible.

He turned her carefully to face him and smiled at her tightly shut eyes. “Open your eyes, Nell,” he instructed. “I want you to know who's kissing you.”

“I don't want you to…”

He laughed softly and cupped her face with both hands. “I'd expect you to be honest, if not with me, then with yourself.”

She opened her eyes, and he knew his words had hit their mark. “Good, very good,” he whispered and gently lowered his mouth to hers.

His lips had just made contact when the phone on the kitchen wall rang. The sound startled them, broke them apart.

Travis groaned. Every nerve, every sense had been readied to enjoy their kiss.

After two rings, Nell answered it. “Hello,” she said, her voice trembling, but only a little.

It surprised him how close to normal she sounded. Travis wasn't sure he could have pulled it off nearly as well.

He watched as her gaze revealed surprise. “It's for you.” She handed him the receiver.

“Me?” Only a few people knew he was in Promise. “Travis Grant,” he said into the mouthpiece.