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Authors: Colleen Coble

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BOOK: Lonestar Homecoming
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The men glanced toward the house. Gracie ran to the bathroom and grabbed her daughter's hand as Hope exited. “Be very quiet,” she whispered. Keys, she needed keys. She snatched her bag from the top of the dresser.

Hope's dark eyes were huge. “Mommy, what's happening?”

Gracie put her finger to her lips. Her pulse stuttered as she led her daughter into the hall. Where could they hide? The voices grew closer.They'd be in the house any moment.

The steps to the attic were only a few feet away.Maybe she could trick them. She yanked on the knob and left the door standing open, then hurried to the kitchen utility closet. If she had to speak right now, she'd never manage a whisper.The scent of pine cleaner and dust enveloped her as she stepped inside with Hope and hunkered down behind the closed door. She quietly listened.

Footsteps paused by the hall. “The attic,” a male voice said quietly. “Angel, you check the bedrooms. Niguel, come with me. Find the woman and kid.”

She pressed her forehead against the wood. Hope's tight grip on her hand was painful, but Gracie squeezed her daughter's fingers reassuringly. She waited until footsteps went past the kitchen and down the hall. Holding her breath, she stepped into the kitchen. The coast was clear, but it wouldn't be for long. She and Hope rushed to the back door.

She put her hand on the knob.What if there was someone else from the van outside too? Biting her lip, she eased open the back door and peered outside.The yard was empty.

She tugged on her daughter's hand. “Shh,” she said.

Staying as close to the old brick building as possible, she led Hope down the alley to where it exited onto the street. A quick glance up and down the crumbling sidewalk dissuaded her from stepping out. Teenagers with tattoos stood smoking in groups. They could be part of the neighborhood gang. It wouldn't be safe to ask them for help.

She ducked back into the alley. Across the lane stood an old church, one she'd attended a few times with Hope.As far as she knew, its doors were rarely locked, even though it had been vandalized several times. The pastor had told her if someone needed what the church had that badly, they could have it.

“Let's see if we can get into the church,” she whispered to Hope. The two of them dashed across the alley to the side door, which opened to her tug.

They stepped into a cool darkness that smelled of old wood and dust.The familiarity of the odor took her back to her childhood. She crept along with her hand on the wall until she reached the entry.The place had a deserted air, so she didn't think the pastor was here. Stepping to the front door, she opened it and peered outside. The morning sun hid behind clouds, and she heard a train whistle a few blocks over.

She ducked back inside. An ancient black phone sat on the table by the door to the sanctuary. Her hand hovered over the receiver, then she snatched it away. She'd seen articles in the papers of what the cartels did to informers. Their tongues were cut out before they were executed. She had to get away, find a place to hide where they'd never find her.

The train whistle blew again.
The train.
She still had the tickets to Alpine that she'd bought a few weeks ago, before Cid talked her out of leaving. If she and Hope could get to the train, they could escape.

The teenagers ignored them as she and Hope ran across the street to the intersection.They hurried down busy Taylor Street. A few men whistled at her through their open windows, and she knew her wedding dress was an attention getter she didn't need.The train platform was just ahead. The strong smell of diesel fuel burned her nose, but the odor signaled her escape. Passengers stared down at her from inside the train as she hurried to the steps.

She dug through her purse past the wallet, lipstick, and gum to find the train tickets.With the tickets in her hand, she and Hope boarded the train. Her wedding dress raised a few eyebrows as she walked by the other passengers, but no one spoke. She pushed toward the back, where she could hide Hope if the men came looking.Two seats together were a welcome haven, and she sank onto the upholstery before her legs could give way.

Safe, at least for now.

Her little girl's eyes were huge in her white face. “Are the bad men coming?” she asked.

Gracie embraced her and kissed the top of her head. “It will be okay,” she whispered. She licked dry lips and watched through the window across the aisle. Her muscles trembled, and she knew if she'd been standing, her legs wouldn't have supported her.

The conductor shut the door. They were leaving. A sigh eased from her lungs.The train lurched, then pulled away from the platform as a man came running down Taylor Street. He glanced up and down the street but didn't look at the train.

Her last glimpse of him silhouetted in front of the platform showed the butt of a gun jutting from his jeans' waistband. The train picked up speed, and she settled back against the seat. Though lulled by the clack of the wheels on the tracks, she knew the danger was far from over.They'd think about the train eventually.

I could go home instead of to Bluebird Crossing.

“No,” she whispered. “I can never go home.”

Hope burrowed her head into Gracie's lap. Her long lashes fluttered, and Gracie smoothed her daughter's delicate brows. “Sleep, little one,” she whispered.

Night was coming, and there would be many stops along the way in the next day and a half. She glanced at her wallet. How much money did she have? She opened it and stared at the single five-dollar bill inside.They could drink water at the stops, and maybe she could buy a couple of apples for Hope. But then what? When the money was gone, how would she feed her daughter until she found out if she could get a job in Bluebird Crossing? Where could they live until she received a paycheck? She had a bit of money in her bank account, but the minute she touched it, they'd find her.

Her cell phone was in her purse as well, but she had no one to call for help. Her throat thickened, and she swallowed hard. Blinking fiercely, she told herself not to cry.

T
HE FIERCE SOUTHWEST
T
EXAS SUN BEAT DOWN ON
L
IEUTENANT
M
ICHAEL
Wayne's face as he disembarked at the Alpine platform. Whoever invented train travel should be lined up in front of a firing squad. It had to be a hundred degrees out here, but he should be used to it after his stint in Iraq. He dropped his duffel bag at his feet and scanned the scant crowd for Rick Bailey's face.Wonder of wonders, the train from El Paso had arrived a little early. At least he hadn't had to ride the thing long. And he'd had a front seat.

The elderly gentleman, Zeke, disembarked and shook Michael's hand. “It's been good talking to you, Lieutenant. If I were you, I'd find a wife to help you raise those kids.”

“Easier said than done, sir.” The man's statement heightened Michael's sense of ineptitude. He was ill equipped for the task ahead of him.What did he know about raising kids—especially a daughter? He grew up without a mother and knew how hard it was. He'd never dreamed his kids would have to endure it too.

Zeke released Michael's hand. “Thank you for your service, son.”

“You're welcome, sir.” Michael marveled at the fellow's strong grip. Zeke looked like he was at least eighty.

His back erect, the gentleman grabbed his backpack and walked away with a spry step.More people followed him as the train emptied. As Michael turned to watch for Rick again, he noticed a young woman who held a little girl of about five by the hand.What caught his attention more than the fragile beauty of her fine-boned face and full lips was the wedding gown she wore. It was creased and spotted as though she'd worn it several days. Her dark-blond hair hung in wisps around her cheeks where it had fallen from a shiny clip.

The little girl glanced up with an appeal in her brown eyes. Her pink dress was all ruffles.A layer of dust dulled the shine on her patent leather shoes. “Mommy, I'm hungry,” she said.

“I know, Hope,” the woman said, her voice full of defeat. “I'm out of money.” She blinked rapidly, but a tear escaped and trickled down her pale cheek. She turned to a woman beside her. “Would you be going to Bluebird Crossing? My daughter and I need a ride.”

“No, dear, I'm sorry. I live here in Alpine.There's my husband.” The woman waved at a craggy-faced man in a cowboy hat and walked away.

The young woman's face took on more determination, and she turned toward the next person exiting the train. Michael started toward them, his hand going to the pocket that held his money clip. The woman swayed as her knees began to buckle.What little color remained in her face leached out. He sprang forward in time to catch her before she crumpled to the walk. As he lifted her in his arms and carried her to a nearby bench, he noticed how slight she was.

“Mommy, Mommy!” The little girl ran after them with tears streaming down her face.

“It's okay,”Michael said, pitching his voice to a low, soothing murmur. He laid the woman on the bench, then pressed his fingers to the thin skin of her wrist. Her pulse jumped erratically beneath his fingertips.

“Hope,” the woman muttered, her lids still closed.

He glanced at the little girl hovering beside her mother. “Hope, has your mommy had anything to eat?”

Hope shook her head. “She only had five dollars when we ran away. She bought some apples, but she said she wasn't hungry and I could eat them.”

“How long ago was this?”

Hope wrinkled her forehead.“We rode the train all day yesterday and slept on it last night.”

It was middle of the afternoon now, so Michael assumed the woman hadn't eaten in two days. He wanted to ask why Hope's mommy had run away from her wedding, but it wasn't his business. “What's your mommy's name?” he asked Hope as he took out his water bottle.

“Gracie. I'm Hope. Hope Lister,” she said.

Gracie Lister.The name fit the delicate woman on the bench. Her nose had a dusting of freckles. Translucent eyelids fluttered, then opened wide, revealing eyes as blue as the cheery storefront behind them. A tiny scar gleamed on her forehead.

She started to sit up, but he pressed her back. “Easy. Here, have a sip of water.” He held the bottle to her lips, and she swallowed a mouthful. “A little more,” he instructed.

She nodded and took another drink. “Thank you so much,” she said. “I don't know what came over me.The heat maybe.”

He helped her sit, then pushed her gently forward until her head was down. “Sit up when your head clears.Take deep breaths.”

After a few inhalations, she straightened. “I feel much better,” she said.

“Hope says you haven't eaten in two days.”

A delicate bloom of color stained her cheeks. “I'm fine.”

“I don't think so, ma'am. I heard you tell Hope you had no more money.Where's your luggage?”

Her hands twisted together in her lap. “I. . . I had to leave it behind.”

He saw the fear in her eyes, the way she couldn't hold his gaze.Was she running from an abusive fiancé? A distasteful marriage arranged by her family? Her left hand was bare, so apparently she'd escaped before the marriage happened.

“Do you live here?” she asked, glancing around. Her pupils dilated as she watched the crowd moving past.The muscles in her throat convulsed, and she shrank back against the bench when a tall man came toward her. Her breath eased from between her lips when the man passed without another glance at her.

“No, I'm heading to Bluebird Crossing.”

Her head came up. “Could we catch a ride with you?”

“Why are you going to Bluebird?”

She wet her lips, and her gaze darted away. “I'm looking for a job.”

“In
Bluebird
? Ma'am, you're not likely to find much there.”

“I—I have a contact there,” she said. “Someone to help me.”

While he knew the folks in his tiny burg were neighborly, he couldn't see her finding any real job there. “I can give you a ride when mine gets here.” He glanced at the parking lot. “I don't think he'll be here for another half hour, though.”

“I'd be so grateful,” she said, more color coming to her face.

“How about we get something to eat?” He held up his hand when objection gathered in her eyes. “My treat. Hope is hungry.”

The rebellion in her eyes disappeared, and she nodded.“Thank you.”

He nodded across the street. “A sub sandwich sounds good to me. How about you?”

“Hope loves turkey sandwiches,” Gracie said.

He took Gracie's hand and helped her stand. “You okay? Dizzy or anything?”

“I'm fine,” she said.

As he led her across the street, he noticed the way she glanced over her shoulder and the tension in her muscles.What was she running from?

2

G
RACIE FORCED HERSELF TO NIBBLE IN A LADYLIKE MANNER INSTEAD OF
taking the huge bite she wanted. Food this good should have a luxury tax on it.The aroma of fresh-baked bread added to her ravenous hunger.

Hope had already gulped down half her turkey melt. “Can I have more milk?” she asked.

“Sure, kiddo,” Michael said. He left his own sandwich untouched and went to the counter for another carton of milk. He pulled out his cell phone as he waited in line with his black beret tucked under his arm.

Gracie watched him as he stood with his shoulders squared in his army dress blues.The sun shone through the window onto his tanned face. She guessed him to be in his early thirties. Soldiers inspired an innate sense of trust in her, probably from having grown up near a military base. His voice looked like ocean waves, blue with whitecaps that rolled to the shore.What would he say if she told him that? She rarely spoke of her synesthesia.

She turned her attention back to her sandwich when she saw the stares of the other patrons. She knew how she must look to them:
loser
should be tattooed on her forehead. The bedraggled wedding gown announced how pathetic she really was. Every time someone came in, she tensed, though she knew her stalkers couldn't have tracked her here already. At least she didn't think so.

BOOK: Lonestar Homecoming
13.02Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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