Lonestar Homecoming (25 page)

“Slave driver.” He released her with obvious reluctance and shoved open his door, then came around to open hers.

His chivalry brought an even broader smile. “Bet this doesn't last long,” she teased.

He took her hand. “You keep waiting for me to open it, and I'll keep coming around.”

They found the nature trail and moved toward the scent of water. A boardwalk crossed over the wetlands, and they followed it to a side trail toward the river.The Rio Grande flowed placidly along the grassy bank, reflecting the blue of the sky.

Michael's grip tightened, and he pointed with his other hand. “There. See the beaver's head in the water?”

She squinted, then saw the water's movement. And a black nose above the river. “I'd hoped to see more than a nose,” she said.

“Glutton. Come with me.” He led her along the bank of the river, where the marshy ground sucked at their shoes. “Beavers here build their homes in the riverbank. There's always been one under this big cane growth.” A few feet from the river, he pointed to a boulder. “Have a seat, and maybe we'll see some action.”

Once he scoured the underbrush for snakes and other undesirables, she settled on the rock.Water lapped at the bank in a soothing sound, and she squinted to see in the dim light.Within a couple of minutes, two beavers came waddling toward the water, with twigs in their mouths.They splashed into the water and disappeared under the canopy of cane. “Are they repairing their den?” she asked.

Michael joined her on the rock. “Or storing up food. There's a reason for the phrase ‘busy beaver.'These rodents never seem to stop working.”

“Kind of like someone else I know,” she said.

He smiled. “They have an extended family, and sometimes the mother beaver raises kits that aren't her own. Beavers are territorial, too, and will fight for their families. And they mate for a lifetime.”

“What is it you're trying to tell me?” she asked, trying to decipher the deliberate meaning in his voice.

His gaze held hers.“We can build a new family unit, the five of us. I'll work hard and make sure you have a good life.”

She ran her fingertips over the stubble on his cheeks. “Don't make the mistake of thinking you need to provide us
things
when we need you, Michael.”

“I know, I know,” he said. “But I want to get us a nice house, some land.You need a car.”

“I can see where this is headed, and I don't want to go there.The kids and I need shelter, food, and clothing.”

“A man takes pleasure in providing for his family.”

“We don't have to have a house like Shannon's or a field full of horses. I like the simple life we've found here. I'm content staying in our old rental and fixing it like we want it.”

He grimaced. “The place is a dump.”

She held his gaze. “It's got good bones, and I love it. Forget what you
should
do and focus on what we really need.Your love and attention.”

“I thought that's what I was doing.”

“The night we came here, you mentioned the prodigal son. I've been thinking about what my dad said about the story.” She wet her lips. “He always said too much emphasis was placed on the prodigal's return and too little on the attitude of the son who stayed behind.”

“He was a selfish dude. He should have been happier to see his brother.”

“That's not what Dad meant, though.” She hadn't thought about this in years, and she struggled to remember what her father had said. “Dad said the son who remained did what was expected out of duty instead of love.”

“What do you have against duty? It's why people go to work every day.”

She twisted a lock of her hair between her fingers. “Dad struggled with his tendency to put his duty to the church above his family. Some days he'd come home and take me and mom out for ice cream or kite flying.The next day he'd be deep in a new sermon series, and I'd have orders not to so much as put my toe in his office for weeks on end.”

“You're remembering it as a kid remembers. He was a grown-up with responsibilities.”

“I always knew he loved me.” She released her hair and leaned back on the heels of her hands. “I just know he never overcame that defect. Now he doesn't have anything to worry about besides his congregation.”

“Doing our duty is not a defect,” Michael growled through gritted teeth.

His head turned away, and she couldn't tell if she was getting through or not. “I'm cold. Let's go back to the room.”

He rose without protest and held her hand as they walked back to the truck. Could two people be less alike? He steered his life by logic and responsibility, and she navigated hers by emotion and conflict avoidance. She wasn't sure there was a happy medium between them.

They were silent on the return trip. After the long morning hiking, Gracie's muscles ached, but in a good way. She clung to Michael's hand as they walked the last few feet to their cabin. This afternoon they'd have to go home, and while she missed the kids, the time spent with Michael had cemented the love she'd been afraid to admit to herself. And to him.

He pulled her back when she would have gone into the cabin. “The door's cracked open.”

“Maybe the maid is still here.”

“Maybe.” He moved her out of the way, then pushed open the door. He reached inside and flipped on the light.

Gracie peered over his shoulder. The bed was neatly made up, and the room appeared empty. “She's been here. Maybe she forgot to lock up.”

“I hope none of our stuff is stolen.” Michael put one boot inside the room, then the other.After striding the length of the room and peering into the bathroom, he motioned for Gracie to come in. “Looks clear.”

She joined him. “Mr. Paranoid.”

“Hey, it pays to be careful.” He embraced her, and his lips grazed her forehead. “I want to stay around a long time.”

She circled her arms around his waist. “You're not going anywhere, buster.” She nuzzled his neck. “Um, you smell like sage and desert sun.”

“Doesn't sound like a good combination to me.”

She raised her head at his distracted tone. “What's wrong?”

He tipped his head to the side. “I thought I heard something.” Moving away from her, he approached their suitcases. He prodded one with his foot, and a frantic rattle sounded. His gaze met hers. “A rattler is in my suitcase. And it's zipped.”

“Don't touch it!” She shuddered. “What if it bites you? We're a long way from help.”

“It's inside the suitcase, and we have to get it out.” Lifting the suitcase by the handle, he carried it outside and laid it down on the path. The rattle from inside the case intensified. “Stand back.” Once he moved behind the suitcase, he unzipped it slowly. “I'm going to open it now. Go inside.”

She retreated to the front door of the room. “I'm staying here. I'm far enough away.”

He scowled but didn't say more. “Be ready to run inside.”

She watched Michael and the case.The snake would exit the suitcase and run for cover, so she didn't think she was in danger. But what if she was wrong, and the snake struck at Michael?

Michael grasped the top of the suitcase and flipped it open, then leaped away.The rattling grew louder, then a triangular head appeared. The snake's tongue flickered as it tested the air.The rattling stopped, and the greenish-brown snake slithered out of the suitcase. The rattlesnake slipped sideways down the hill and across the road, where it disappeared into the brush on the other side.

“That was a Mojave green,” Michael said. “You don't see them often. Their venom is sixteen times more deadly than a regular rattler's.” He stooped and retrieved something from the suitcase.

Gracie shuddered. “I thought it was a diamondback. I saw the diamonds.”

“The two are similar, but the greenish color gave it away. And did you see how the diamonds faded out near the end of its tail?”

“I didn't look that closely.” Suddenly cold, Gracie hugged herself. “How did it get in your suitcase?”

“Someone had to have put it there.Whoever it was meant business. This far away from help, if one of us had been bitten on the face or chest, it would have been lights out.”

Gracie clutched Michael's arm. “Someone was trying to kill you.” She peered into the luggage. “Is it empty?”

He held up a paper. “Except for this.”

She craned her head to try to read the scrawled handwriting. “What's it say?”

His mouth tightened. “‘Gotcha.'”

She suppressed a shudder. “That's it?”

“Yep.”

“How'd they know we were here?”

“That's what I'd like to know,” he said. His eyes narrowed to slits. “I'm going to find out.”

She hugged herself. “Maybe we should get on home and check on the kids.”

“Let me call Allie.” He grabbed his cell phone and punched in the number.

While he was on the phone, Gracie wandered over to a rock wall and sat down.The pungent scent of pine from the trees wafted down to her nose. The bright sun illuminated the striated rocks of red and brown. Her phone rang in her pocket, and she pulled it out, then nearly put it back when she recognized Cid's number.

Why couldn't he leave her alone? She'd been gone for weeks. Turning her back to Michael, she opened it. “Cid, what do you want from me? Can't you leave me alone?”

“Gracie, I miss you,” Cid said. “I do not understand you. You promised to marry me. I think of Hope as my daughter. How can you rip us apart in this way?”

“You lied to me.You never intended to get out of the cartel. I can't trust you, Cid.”

His voice grew eager. “I am out of it, Gracie, I swear.”

She shouldn't have left the door open for him. The only thing to do now was to tell him the truth. “Cid, I've married someone else. I want you to leave me alone.” The words had barely left her mouth when she wished she could snatch them back.

Cid's voice growled. “Married? What is this craziness?”

She dropped her head. “I'm married, Cid. It's over. Quit calling me, and get on with your life. I'm getting on with mine.”

“Gracie, what have you done? It is not that easy to walk away from me. I hope this is not true, or you will have ruined everything.”

The phone clicked off in her ear, then she stared at it in her hand. His tone left her queasy.

“The kids are fine.” Michael dropped his cell phone back into his pocket. “You're pale.What's wrong? Who was on the phone?” He put his arm around her.

“It was Cid. I told him I was married. Maybe that was a mistake. He was so angry.” His voice had held a dark threat, but Michael was right. She was safe here.

“The guy's a nutcase. He can't have you.” He nuzzled his face in her hair. “Um, your hair smells like oranges.”

The tension dropped from her shoulders in degrees until she leaned into his embrace. “Think it's safe to go back into our room?”

“I checked it out. No more snakes. The gecko is still waiting for you though.”

“I can handle the gecko.”

22

T
HE HOT SUN BEAT DOWN ON
G
RACIE'S UNCOVERED HEAD, AND SHE WISHED
for a cowboy hat. On the way home, the sheriff had called and told them they could occupy their house again, so they'd picked up the kids and headed home. Michael had them in the barn, helping muck out the stables. She'd invited the Baileys for supper and only had an hour before she needed to start cooking.

She tried to push Cid's call from her mind as she leaned her bare arms on the rough wood of the corral.What had he meant? The only plans she'd ruined were the ones he'd made for their marriage. She had to keep reminding herself that she was hundreds of miles away from San
Diego. Cid would be hard-pressed to find her in this remote location.

A new life stretched in front of her—one with promise and purpose. She didn't need her father's forgiveness now. Not when she was making a new life without him. The old life was gone anyway. It couldn't hurt her anymore. She ignored the internal ache that said otherwise.

She focused on the scene in front of her. Poor King had sores and a dull coat. The kids squealed in the barn, and she heard complaints of “Ooh, it stinks, Daddy!” She laughed, and King lifted his head and stared at her. His dark, liquid eyes seemed to ask what could be funny in life.

An impulse she couldn't explain to herself made her prop her foot on the lowest rung.All she had to do was climb the fence, and she could begin to interact with the horse. After the time with Michael, she wanted to be braver, stronger. King continued to stare at her, and the misery in his eyes drew her.

“Hey, boy,” she said softly.The horse had been as frightened of her as she was of him. Maybe they could both find wholeness and fearlessness. She swung her leg over the top rail and landed on the other side of the fence.

King snorted and backed up. He neighed, and Gracie saw clouds tinged with orange. Fear? His tail swished the flies from his rump.The strong scent of horse closed her throat, but she forced herself to approach with her hand out.

“Hey, boy,” she said softly.

King's eyes rolled to white, and she froze but kept her hand out. The horse snorted again, and his head came down. He pawed the ground. His nose lowered. She took another step and reached toward him. The horse nickered, then nuzzled the hand she extended. Her pulse stuttered, and she expected to feel his teeth on her skin, but the only sensation that registered was the softness of his muzzle.

“Good boy,” she cooed. If only she'd brought a lead with her. She ran her hand down his neck. “You need to be curried,” she said when her fingers detected the roughness of his coat. The horse stepped nearer and lifted his nose to her cheek. She forced herself to stand and
wished Michael could see how brave she'd gotten. It was all his doing.