More to Texas than Cowboys. Roz Fox Denny

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ a key Miranda had mailed her. Clearly none was needed. The front door had a hole where a lock mechanism should have been.

      Their exploration was cut short when an older, dark-green sedan pulled in. The driver parked behind the Blazer and Greer reeled as her mother stepped out. Rollicking emotions ranging from anxiety to joy set Greer’s heart banging like a tambourine. Loretta had aged. Oh, she was still lithe, trim and neatly turned out, but deep lines etched her face and neck. And her once-vibrant red hair had gone brassy.

      “Is that the mayor?” a curious Shelby inquired.

      Greer’s throat had closed and tears hampered her ability to respond. All she could do was shake her head. No, no, no, galloped through her brain. She couldn’t handle one more disappointment today. Not on top of seeing the town, meeting Holden Kelley’s son, then finding her and Shelby’s dream home so decrepit.

      Loretta Bell quickly removed a mop, bucket and broom from her back seat. She slowly approached the duo standing on the porch. Suddenly, with a small cry of delight, she dropped everything and went down on one knee in front of the granddaughter she’d only seen via yearly photographs.

      Uncharacteristically shy all at once, Shelby edged closer to Greer and looked up at her mother for instructions on how she should react.

      Through a haze of tears, Greer noticed that Loretta had held out her arms, but then let them fall. In that one brief moment, Greer realized that it took guts for Loretta to show up unannounced, since she had no idea how she’d be received.

      Releasing a sob, Greer hastily mumbled introductions. Bridging the gap, taking the initiative, she gathered her mom and her daughter into a trembling hug. Three generations of Bell women sank down on a sagging porch step. They all talked at the same time and alternately laughed and cried together until Loretta jumped up and collected her cleaning tools.

      In a voice still husky from tears, she said, “I took time off work to help you make this place livable.” She let a worried gaze rest momentarily on Greer. “Your father is…uh…busy cutting hay.” She quickly turned aside. “The truth is, Greer,” she said in an unsteady voice, “He’s too stubborn to let bygones be bygones. Yet, everything that’s happened has taken its toll on Robert’s health. He splits his days between the farm and church work.” Raising a slender wrist, Loretta checked her watch. “He’ll expect lunch on the table at noon as always, so I can only stay a couple of hours. As much as I’d like to sit and talk, we need to dig in.”

      A stab of sadness affected Greer’s breathing. She ought to have suspected that her parents still cared first and foremost for each other. Then came their devotion to church, jobs, and last to their only child. A mother herself now, Greer didn’t think she’d ever subscribe to that concept. She’d never let Shelby take a back seat to anyone or anything. If ever she met a man she’d consider marrying, he’d have to understand going in that her love would be divided equally. Perhaps it shouldn’t have been such a shock that her parents had shipped her off to live with a stern, rigid aunt. Greer had always been a tagalong in her parents’ lives.

      Following Loretta and Shelby as they chatted about inconsequential things throughout a depressing tour of the house, cottages, bunkhouse and a barn that had no door at all, Greer wondered if in coming home she’d made the second mistake of a lifetime. Had she idealized this opportunity? Was she crazy to think it spelled a future for Shelby?

      True, the mayor had been a huge cheerleader for her program, but truer still, Greer had latched on to the deal with gusto.

      Over the next hour as the trio worked together, her worries began to fade. Her mom’s chatter spurred Greer over her disappointment with the dilapidated place.

      “I have a bolt of cloth at home guaranteed to brighten this kitchen,” Loretta said. “Greer, come help me measure these windows. Tonight I’ll sew up red-and-white-checked valances and curtains. Add a coat of white enamel to these cupboards, and your guests will gravitate to this room.”

      Greer accepted one end of the tape measure. As she did so, a blue GMC pickup pulled in. Within seconds, Homestead’s mayor bore down on the house, swinging a galvanized bucket swathed in a bright red ribbon in one hand; in the other she carried a steaming pie plate. Shelby ran to open the door.

      A tall woman who could be called statuesque, Miranda Wright wore jeans with panache. Her mink-brown ponytail swept her shoulders as she thrust the bucket into Greer’s hands. “Welcome to Homestead. I could’ve brought you a plant, but you’ll get more use out of a hammer, nails, screwdriver, paintbrushes, gloves and assorted tools. The dried-peach pie is courtesy of my mother, Nan. Oh, Loretta, hi. You know how Mom loves to bake. I assume my able escort is none other than Shelby?” A yellow Lab trotting at Miranda’s heels claimed Shelby’s attention. “That’s Dusty,” Miranda said, then asked a question about school. As Shelby petted the dog, they discussed the local elementary. Miranda said, “How cool is it that your grandma teaches math at the high school across the street from where you’ll be going?”

      “I didn’t know that.” Shelby’s hand hovered over the dog. “So maybe I won’t feel so bad not knowing any kids. At the store in town, Mama met a man who invited us to church. He said I’d meet kids my age. But Mama said we can’t go, ’cause we’ve got so much work here.”

      Miranda, who noticed Greer staring at something outside the kitchen window, stepped over to have a look. “Ah, I wondered what was so engaging. Looks good, huh? That’s Noah Kelley, exercising one of his horses by the river. Is he the man Shelby meant? Did he mention he bought one of the two mini-ranches bordering the eastern edge of your property?”

      “What?” Greer spun around, wearing a frown.

      Miranda just grinned. “Yeah, I know his mom’s on the Home Free committee, but the ranchettes aren’t part of our package. Anyway, he didn’t want to displace his folks from the rectory, since they’ve lived there for probably forty years. Neither did he want to move home, which I’m sure you can understand.”

      Feeling confused, Greer slipped out to the back porch, where she was able to identify that the rider was indeed Father Kelley. “I thought you said my property butted up against Clint Gallagher’s grassland,” she muttered.

      Miranda pointed in the opposite direction. “Yes, and you’ll probably need to rebuild those buckled fence sections. The senator opposed our land giveaway. Another thing—I know the guy you worked for in Colorado recommended you run sheep instead of cattle, but old-time cattlemen are never comfortable having sheep move in. Clint rents deer leases, too. I’m sure you realize hunting season’s right around the corner.”

      “Gr…eat!” Greer blew her bangs out of her eyes. She’d rather fence off Noah Kelley, who was actually trespassing. However, if she did that, she’d cut her stock off from water. What had made this ranch so appealing was its proximity to the Clear River.

      Her attention remained focused on Noah, who sat the pinto like a seasoned cowboy. Her insides curled, and Greer almost missed her mom calling from inside the kitchen that she had to leave. Hurrying to walk Loretta out, Greer saw Noah’s home, visible through a stand of weeping cypress nearer the river. A long-ball pitcher could, without much effort, smack his brick chimney, which gleamed in the nearly noontime sun. Miranda whistled for Dusty, announcing that she had to leave, too, and Greer thanked both women for stopping by. As they turned their vehicles around, she wondered what had possessed her to think Homestead could be her utopia. Every bit of her old baggage, plus some that was new, had already begun piling up on her doorstep.

      But Father Kelley did indeed look good….

      CHAPTER СКАЧАТЬ