Heart of Texas Vol. 3 (4 page)

“It's probably Glen and Ellie again,” Cal said.

Cal's brother and his wife lived in town and would have been with them, Grady suspected, if not for the storm.

Grady answered the phone. “Nothing yet,” he said, instead of his usual greeting.

“Why didn't anyone phone me?” Dovie Boyd Hennessey demanded. Dovie and Savannah had been close since the death of Savannah's mother, Barbara, seven years earlier. Dovie owned and operated the antique shop, which sold everything from old scarves and jewelry to valuable china cups and saucers, all arranged around antique furnishings. The women in town loved to shop at Dovie's; she was universally admired and treasured by the town.

“Savannah's in labor and I only
now
find out,” Dovie said as though she'd missed the social event of the year.

“Who told you?” Grady asked. The women in Promise had a communication system the CIA could envy.

“Frank, naturally,” Dovie told him. “I guess he talked to Laredo earlier this evening. He just got home.” She paused for breath. “Has the baby come yet?”

“Nope, and according to Jane it could be hours before the blessed event.”

“How's Savannah?”

“Better than Laredo,” Grady said.

Dovie's soft laugh drifted over the line. “Give her my love?”

“Of course.”

“And call me the minute you hear, understand? I don't care what time of day or night it is.”

“You got it,” he said on the tail end of a yawn.

“Don't let me down, Grady.”

“I wouldn't dream of it,” he assured her.

By the time he returned to the living room, Cal had picked up a magazine and was flipping through the pages.

“You read that one an hour ago,” Grady reminded him.

“So I did.”

A few minutes later Caroline came into the room, and Grady leaped to his feet. “Sit down,” he urged his wife. “You look exhausted.” She should have been in bed hours ago, but he knew better than to suggest it. Caroline was as stubborn as they came, but then so was he. They understood each other, and he could appreciate her need to be with her best friend.

“It won't be long now,” she told him as she slid her arms around his waist. “The baby's crowned.”

Grady nodded. “Wonderful. How's Savannah?”

“She's doing well.”

“And Laredo?”

“He's holding Savannah's hand and helping her with her breathing.” Grady sat down, pulling Caroline onto his lap. She pressed her head against his shoulder, and he kissed her temple.

Grady glanced in Cal's direction and found he'd folded his arms and shut his eyes. Caroline's eyes were closed, too, and Grady decided to rest his own. Just for a few minutes, he told himself.

An infant's cry shattered the silence. Grady jerked awake and Caroline jumped to her feet and shook her head. “Oh, my goodness!” she gasped.

Grady hadn't a clue how long they'd been out. Cal straightened and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.

“The kid's got one hell of a pair of lungs.”

A few minutes later the bedroom door opened and Laredo emerged, carrying a tiny bundle in his arms. Grady noted that his friend's eyes were bright and his cheeks tear-streaked.

“We have a daughter,” he said, gazing with awe at the baby he held. “Laura Rose, meet your family,” he whispered to the newborn. “This is your uncle Grady and aunt Caroline.”

“Hey, don't forget me,” Cal said, stepping over to gaze down at the baby.

“That's Cal,” Laredo continued. “His wife's the one who coaxed you into the world.” Laredo gazed at the small group gathered around the baby. “Isn't she beautiful?” he said. “Doesn't she look like Savannah?”

Grady studied Laura Rose carefully and decided she looked more like an alien, but he certainly didn't say so.

Another hour passed before Grady and Caroline were in their own home and their own bed. Fortunately the rain had ended. Grady had carried a sleeping Maggie from Savannah's place to the car and then into her room; she never did wake up. He was exhausted, too. This had been a night to remember. His sister was a mother, and for the first time in his life he was an uncle. Damn, but it felt good.

Caroline pulled back the covers and joined him. She sighed as her head hit the pillow. “Did anyone phone Dovie?” she asked.

“I did,” Grady said as he reached for the light.

“Good.” Caroline rolled onto her side. “I think I could sleep for a week,” she mumbled.

Grady drew his wife close, cuddling her spoon-fashion. His arm went around her and he flattened his hand against her stomach and grinned, feeling extraordinarily happy. Soon Laura Rose would have a cousin.

T
RAVIS AWOKE AND LAY IN
the warm bed, unwilling to face the bright morning light. Not just yet, anyway. Something warm nestled against his feet, and he was content to stay exactly as he was for a few more minutes.

Despite his exhaustion, he'd had a hard time falling asleep. It didn't help that his legs stuck out a good six inches over the end of the bed. Those cowboys must've been pretty short guys, he thought wryly.

His eyes flew open as his toes felt something damp and ticklish. He bolted upright to find a goat standing at the foot of the bed, chewing for all it was worth. It didn't take Travis long to realize that the animal had eaten the socks clean off his feet. All that remained were a few rows of ribbing on his ankles.

Obviously, once he'd fallen asleep, he'd slept deeply—the sleep of the jet-lagged. He laughed and wiggled his toes just to be sure the socks were the only thing the goat had enjoyed. So far, so good.

“Yucky, what are you doing in here?”

The door flew open and Nell's boy—Jeremy, if Travis remembered correctly—rushed inside.

The boy planted his hands on his hips and glared at the goat.

“'Morning,” Travis said.

“Hi.” Jeremy smiled and must have noticed Travis's feet for the first time because he burst out laughing. “Yucky ate your socks!”

“So I noticed.”

“Sorry,” Jeremy said, sounding anything but. He covered his mouth to hide a giggle, which made the situation even more amusing. “Mom said to tell you breakfast will be ready in twenty minutes if you're interested.”

Travis didn't need a second invitation. His stomach growled at the mere mention of food. If the cinnamon roll the night before was any indication, Nell Bishop was one hell of a cook.

Travis dressed, showered and shaved, entering the kitchen just as Nell set a platter of scrambled eggs and bacon on the table.

“'Morning,” he greeted her.

“'Morning,” she returned and poured him a mug of coffee.

Travis gratefully accepted it and pulled out a chair. Nell joined him and the children, and the three bowed their heads for grace. The instant they were through, Jeremy reached for the platter.

His mother sent him a warning glance and Jeremy immediately passed the platter to Travis. “Here,” the boy said. “You're our guest. Please help yourself.”

Travis was impressed with the boy's manners. So many children didn't seem to have any these days. He forked some fluffy scrambled eggs onto his plate and took a piece of toast from a bread basket in the center of the table. He gave Nell a sidelong glance as she buttered her own toast. She was obviously doing her best to be a good mother. The owner of the B and B had told him Nell was a widow, and he admired her for the loving manner in which she schooled her children.

“You collected all the eggs?” Nell asked Emma, interrupting his thoughts.

“Yes, Mama.”

“Did you check under Bertha?”

The little girl grinned and nodded.

“I understand,” Nell said, turning to Travis, “that we owe you a pair of socks.”

He glanced up from his plate and saw that her mouth quivered with the beginnings of a smile.

“Best darn pair I owned.”

“Your feet must've been pretty ripe to attract Yucky's attention,” Jeremy said.

Travis couldn't help it; he burst out laughing. Nell, however, didn't take kindly to her son's comment. Jeremy read his mother's look and mumbled an apology.

Breakfast was wonderful, the food even better than he'd expected and the company delightful.

As soon as the kids had finished, they excused themselves and set their plates in the sink, then rushed out the back door.

“The children have animals to tend before they catch the school bus,” Nell explained before he could voice his question.

“I see.”

“Jeremy's got rabbits. Then there's Yucky, whom you've already met.”

“We have a close and personal relationship,” he said, leaning back in his chair, savoring the last of his coffee.

“Currently we have twelve horses, but I plan on buying several more. Jeremy feeds them grain and alfalfa, and Emma makes sure they have plenty of water. I'll be mucking out the stalls later this morning.”

Travis could see that they had their chores down to a science and admired the way they all worked together. Briefly he wondered about Ruth, but guessed she reserved her strength for later in the day.

Nell cleared the remaining dishes from the table. “Take your time,” she said as she put on a sweater and headed toward the door.

“Can I help?” he asked.

“Not at all. Just enjoy your coffee.”

Travis did as she suggested and watched from the window as Nell and the children worked together. They were a real team, efficient and cooperative. Half an hour later Jeremy and Emma raced into the house and grabbed their lunch boxes from the counter.

“We gotta go to school now,” Emma said, staring at Travis as though she'd much rather spend the day with him.

Jeremy was on his way out when he paused. “Will you be here tonight?”

Travis had to think about that. “Probably.”

“I hope you are,” the boy said. “It's nice having another man around the place.” And with that, he flew out the door.

Travis rinsed his mug and set it beside the kitchen sink. He met Nell as he left the house. “Do you mind if I plug my computer into an outlet in the bunkhouse? I want to get some work done while I'm here.”

“Not at all,” she said, her smile congenial.

Whistling, Travis returned to the bunkhouse and retrieved his laptop from his bag. With a minimum of fuss, he located an outlet and set up shop. The computer hummed its usual greeting as the screen saver reminded him that he was one hell of a good writer—a message he'd programmed in to battle the deluge of self-doubts all writers faced.

The note was just the boost his ego needed before he dug into his latest project. He'd achieved indisputable success with his series of Western stories for preadolescents and young teens. The book he planned to write next might possibly be his best; he could feel that even before he wrote the first word. A mainstream novel set in a Western ghost town—his editor had been ecstatic over the idea.

Travis never did the actual writing while he was on the road, but he wanted to document facts about the storm from the night before. One of his characters was sure to lose his socks to a hungry goat, too. He prided himself on the authenticity of his details, although in his past books, most of that background had come from research.

Rarely did anything happen to him that didn't show up in a book sometime, one way or another. He used to think he kept his personal life out of his work, but that was a fallacy. Anyone who really knew him could follow his life by reading his books. The connections weren't always direct. Take the end of his marriage, for example. Of the two books he'd written the year of his divorce, one took place in Death Valley and the other on the River of No Return. Those locations had corresponded to his emotional state at the time.

He didn't want to stop and analyze why a ghost town appealed to him now. Maybe because his life felt empty and he struggled with loneliness. Travis realized without surprise that he envied Nell her children.

He entered notes about Texas, the drive from San Antonio, his impressions of the landscape and the people. The storm was described in plenty of detail. He made notes about Nell and her children. Ruth, too.

The next time he glanced up, he was shocked to discover it was midmorning. He stored the information onto a computer file and headed for the kitchen, hoping Nell kept a pot of coffee brewing during the day. He didn't expect to see her, since she had stalls to muck out and plenty of other chores, many of which he knew next to nothing about.

He was pleasantly surprised to find her in the kitchen.

“Hello again,” he said.

“Hi.”

The spicy aroma of whatever she was cooking made him instantly hungry, despite the fact that he'd enjoyed one of the finest breakfasts he'd eaten in years.