Lonestar Homecoming (9 page)

Estevez's lips tightened. “I just want to be clear who's in charge.”

“We're clear,” Michael said. He was used to taking orders, but this kid was still wet behind the ears. His irritation faded when he saw Caesar's ears go up. A low growl emanated from the dog's throat. “Someone's out there,” he said. “Hit the ground!” Some sixth sense made him grab the kid and yank him down behind the SUV.

Estevez tried to shake off Michael's grip, but the first bullet pinged against the bumper. Both border agents drew their guns and returned fire as a volley of shells hit the vehicle. Michael pulled his revolver. He saw a flash of green and aimed at the movement, then fired.A man fell. He heard a shot, then the sound of an engine. Dust billowed from the tires of an old pickup that sped away.

A heavily accented male voice floated out the window. “Señor Wayne, you are a dead man.”

He rose from his crouched position and followed Caesar to the fallen man, who lay behind an agave plant. He was dressed as a Mexican national, in his forties, and his sightless eyes stared at the glaring sun.

Vargas was wasting no time in trying to kill him.

7

A
PACK OF COYOTES HOWLED IN THE DISTANCE
.
A
NOTHER PACK ON THE
other side of the canyon replied. Michael sat in the living room with his Bible in his hand. Only one light pushed back the night.The clock on the mantel read 11:00. After tossing and turning for half an hour, he'd finally gotten up and come downstairs. The nightmares that haunted him had little to do with the unseen faces of his enemies and much more to do with concrete fears.

He'd done the right thing all his life, and to the best of his ability. God should have honored his faithfulness, yet here he was with two motherless kids, an experience he'd sworn he'd never allow his children to go through. He leaned his head against the worn headrest on the chair. Once upon a time he'd thought serving his country and his God would result in fulfillment and contentment.Then why did this ache still keep him awake?

The last four days on sentry duty had confirmed that he stood directly in the line of fire. The man he'd shot and killed his first day out was part of the cartel that had killed his brother. Michael wasn't a man to second-guess his decisions, but he did now.What would happen to his kids if he died? At Michael's feet, Caesar raised his head.The floorboard creaked.

Gracie stood in the doorway. Her blond hair spilled onto the white robe she wore. She clutched the top of it closed at her neck. Her eyes were wide, and they went from him to the Bible in his hand, then back to his face. “I thought you were down here.”

He put down the Bible. “Couldn't sleep either?”

She stepped into the room. “No.”

“Problems with the kids this week with me gone?”

“No, they've been very good.” She wet her lips and took another step. “I-I've got a problem.”

He motioned to the sofa. “Sit down.” At least she was going to share it with him. He hadn't figured her out yet. He liked her. She was great with the kids. But she held so much of herself back that he hadn't been able to get a handle on who she really was.When she walked past him, he caught a whiff of vanilla. The clean, light scent was like the mask she'd shown him so far. A plain, blank canvas. But he knew there was more underneath.

She arranged herself on the sofa so the oversized robe covered her fully. Her toes peeked out under the hem. Pale-pink polish adorned them.When Michael realized he was staring, he averted his gaze from her tiny feet, then tugged at the collar of his shirt.

“So what's the problem?” he asked.

She clasped her hands together in her lap. “We're enrolling the kids in school tomorrow, but I was thinking about homeschooling Hope. Do you suppose I could get an advance for books? I've been saving as much of my wages as I can, but with so many things to replace, it's not quite enough.”

He frowned. “Why would you want to homeschool? The school in Bluebird is small and intimate. She'll get plenty of attention and can interact with other kids.”

She looked down at her hands. “I-I just think it might be best.”

“Best for her? Or for you? You don't have any experience teaching, do you?”

She cupped her face in her hands and sighed. “I can't enroll her in school. It's the records.”

“Ah.” He nodded. “I get it.Your fiancé might track her here. Is he that bad?”

She pleated the robe with her fingers. “It would ruin my life if he found me. I don't know what to do.” Her voice cracked, and she cleared her throat before looking up at him.“What can I do to keep our whereabouts secret, Michael?”

His name on her lips shouldn't have made a blip in his pulse.The move, the reunion with his kids, and events on the job must have been more wearing than he'd expected. “Change her name maybe? I know the town lawyer.You could change both your names.”

“But that will take a long time.What about school in the meantime?”

He rubbed his forehead. “I don't know. Let me talk to the principal in the morning. I have to enroll my two hoodlums too.You don't even have a birth certificate for her, do you?”

She shook her head. “It's not something I typically carry with me.”

He grinned. “Stupid question, huh? If we can transfer her records from the old school, they'll have a copy of her birth certificate.”

“But we have the same problem with tracking us here if the records are transferred.”

He nodded before she finished. “Maybe homeschooling would be best for a week or so.”

“A week or so? What will that gain me?”

“Then you could say you've been homeschooling her and could start from scratch. They'd have to test her, but we might be able to skate on the identity thing for a while.What books do you need? I'll get you some.”

“If it's only for a short time, it's not worth buying them. I could get some books at the library in town.”

“They could get whatever you need on interlibrary loan.”

A smile, one that looked genuine, curved her lips. “Thanks. I'll leave you alone to your reading.”

He wanted to tell her not to go—that he didn't want to be alone— but he kept his mouth shut and watched her rise and pad from the room in her bare feet. He should be used to his own company and that of other men. His stint in Iraq had taught him about self-sufficiency and the depth of his internal reserves, but there was something about a woman's presence that brought calm to a room. Not that he'd ever had much of it. He had no real memories of his mother, and his marriage had lasted only long enough to produce the kids. Kate wanted excitement and the constant stimulation of parties. He'd craved the peace found only at home with his family.

His thoughts went back to his dilemma.Who would care for the kids if the cartel was successful? A way out came to mind, but he wasn't sure he was that desperate.

T
HE SQUEALS OF CHILDREN AWAKENED
G
RACIE
.
T
HINKING SHE'D OVER
slept, she bolted upright, then realized it was only seven.The kids were up early. She stepped to the adjoining room and glanced at Hope's empty cot, then grabbed her robe and threw open the door.The scent of cinnamon wafted on the air.Waffles? Rolls? Whatever it was, the aroma made her tummy rumble. She'd only picked at her supper last night.

She followed the fragrance and found Michael in the kitchen with all three children and the dog. Flour dusted their pajamas and their hair. And the counter and the floor. Caesar's black fur had a dusting of white. Even Michael had a swipe of it on his left cheek. Hope sprinkled powdered sugar on waffles, and Jordan followed it up with cinnamon. In heavy doses. No wonder Gracie could smell it from upstairs.

She rescued the waffles from the girls. “Smells good.”

Jordan made a grab for the plate. “It needs more cinnamon.”

“I think the next one needs it more.” She slid another plate of waffles in front of her, then turned in time to stop Evan before he overflowed the glasses with orange juice.

“Thanks.” Michael swiped at his forehead with the back of his arm. “I thought this would be easier with the kids' help.”

She smiled. “Maybe not easier, but more fun.” It took a special sort of guy to let kids play with sugar and cinnamon. Something more than military discipline lurked beneath that close-cropped haircut. She had the kitchen to rights in a few minutes, and the kids sat down to eat.

“Ew,” Evan said.“It tastes funny.”He spit the bite back onto his plate.

“Evan, that's rude,” Michael said. He grabbed a paper towel and scooped away the partially eaten bit. “You probably got one with too much cinnamon.”

“It's not my fault,” Jordan said, raising her voice. “I put just enough on it. He's being mean.”

“Kids, your dad worked hard on breakfast.The least you could do is be grateful,” Gracie said. She settled beside Hope.

Hope leaned over. “Mommy, it tastes funny. Salty.”

Salty?
Gracie cut a piece with her fork and tasted it. She nearly choked. “Um, Michael, did you use baking powder or baking soda?”

He shrugged. “I don't know. It's all the same, isn't it?”

“No.” She laughed and went to the cupboard and pulled down the yellow box of baking soda. “Was it this you used?”

“Yeah, that's it. Baking soda. I had Evan help me and he got a little much in there, but I figured it would just help them rise more. Is something wrong?” He lifted a bite to his lips and tasted it, then grimaced before manfully swallowing it. “It's gross.”

Jordan tasted it and spit it out. “Can I have cereal?”

Michael stood and began dumping the waffles.“Yeah.You need help?”

“Dad, I'm eight. I can fix my own cereal.”

Gracie hid her smile behind her hand, but a giggle escaped that swelled when Michael glowered at her. He was pretty cute in that apron, but she wasn't about to say so.

“At least you let the kids help,” she said. “How about an omelet?”

“Kick a man when he's down,” he muttered, but he was smiling. “I was trying to save you work.”

“And I appreciate it.” She glanced at her watch.“We need to hurry if we want to get there before the line starts.”

“I get to go to school,” Hope chanted.

Gracie hadn't explained anything to her daughter yet. The tears would flow when Hope found out. She loved school. She exchanged a glance with Michael.

“I'll talk to the principal,” he mouthed.

He stared at her for a long moment, and she wondered what that was all about. It was as if he'd seen her clearly for the first time. She couldn't quite make out his expression. Speculation? Distrust? She wished she had the courage to ask him.

“I'll fix the toast,” Jordan offered.

“That would be great. Hope, you get out the jam and butter,” Gracie said when she saw the frown gathering on her daughter's face. Hope wasn't used to having to share her mother's attention. “We can all help.”

By the time they were ready to go to town an hour later, Gracie was limp from Jordan's tears over not being able to wear the shirt she wanted (in the laundry) and Evan's proclamation that his sneakers were too small. She'd managed to find him a pair that fit, but Jordan had to endure wearing a pink shirt she claimed she hated.

Once at the school, Michael disappeared to the principal's office with his two while Gracie took Hope to a bench outside to explain that she couldn't go with the other kids yet.

“It's just for a little while,” she told Hope. “We have to get some records transferred.We had to leave without them, remember?”

Tears rushed to Hope's eyes. “I want to go to kindergarten,” she wailed. She hid her face in Gracie's lap. Caesar whined and licked Hope's cheek.

Gracie smoothed her daughter's soft curls. “I know, sweetheart. Maybe you and I can have some special time.”

“Can we go see Betsy every day?”

“Betsy will be in school too.”

Hope's face crumpled again, and Gracie wanted to cry herself. She hugged her daughter and promised they could bake cookies together and go for field trips to see the birds.

Michael exited the school with Evan and Jordan in tow. “Let's go to the library,” Michael said. “We'll get you some books, Hope.Then your mommy can teach you at home for a little while.”

“I want to go with the other kids.” She hid her face against Gracie's leg.

Gracie exchanged a helpless glance with Michael.“How did it go?”

“We'll talk later. Come with me.”

“What about Caesar?”

“I'll let him wait in the back of the truck. It's in the shade.” He called the dog to him and told Caesar to stay in the truck.

The library was across the street from the school.The low-slung concrete-block building, its windows coated with reflecting film, hunkered on the rocky lot. She and the children followed his stiff shoulders up the walk and into the coolness of the building.

“What did the principal say?” she asked when she caught up with him outside the front door.

“I'm working on it.”

There was something going on that she didn't understand. Michael's shoulders were tense under his camo. He stared at her as if he was trying to read her mind. Standing there with the sun heating her skin, she wanted to bolt. It wasn't that there was an air of menace between them. But what emotion hooded his eyes and tightened his mouth?

“Let's go,” he said after a long moment of silence.

He walked toward the bank of computers along an inside wall. She took the kids to the children's section where story hour was going on, then wandered to a computer. After having been cut off from the world for two weeks, she longed to know what the papers had said about the agents' deaths. Michael wasn't at a computer like she'd expected. He was in a corner with a big guy in a cowboy hat, and the two huddled together in conversation.