The Coltons: Fisher, Ryder & Quinn: Soldier's Secret Child. Caridad Pineiro

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СКАЧАТЬ the best that I can as well.” He couldn’t say it, but his reawakened feelings for Macy and the surprise announcement that he had a son were creating doubt within him. Doubt about the decisions he had made in his life. Doubt about the future he had thought to be fairly certain.

      Now nothing seemed sure anymore except for the fact that he had to help Macy and T.J. His honor demanded it. He just hoped his heart would be intact when it was all over.

      Macy nodded and after a shaky inhalation, her words came out on a rushed breath. “We’ll do the best we can together for now.”

      Together for now. It seemed like the best thing they could hope for at that moment.

      “Do you want to go to this honky tonk?” he asked again, trying for that togetherness.

      The tension ebbed slowly from her body. “I think that’s a good idea. I just want to check on T.J. first. Is that okay?”

      “That sounds fine.”

      She laid her hand over his as it rested on her cheek, the action achingly tender and causing a funky tightening in his heart.

      “Thank you for trying.”

      He bit back the words he had been about to say—that it was the least he could do. He had never believed in doing the least of anything in his whole life and Macy and T.J. certainly deserved more from him. Instead he said, “I will give it my all to make sure this comes out right.”

      A glimmer of a smile came to her face. “I’m certain you will.”

      Her trust in him moved him once again, choking his throat tight. Unable to say more for fear of what he might say, he nodded.

      “I’m going to go check on T.J. and then we’ll go, okay?”

      “Okay,” he managed to eke out and returned his attention to printing out larger pictures of Sara, both alone and with her parents.

      He heard the tread of her steps going up the stairs and past the whir of the ink-jet printer, the soft and loving way she called T.J.’s name. A moment later, she descended the steps again and reentered the kitchen carrying the tray with the empty plates and glasses with T.J.’s lunch.

      “He’s sound asleep again. I left him a note that we were stepping out for a little while,” she advised and went to the sink to clean the plates.

      “That’s good. It’ll give us some time to visit this place and try to figure out where Sara may have gone.” With a final thunk-thunk, the printer spit out the last sheet of paper with the photo of Sara.

      He stood, picked up the papers, folded them neatly and tucked them into the pocket of his chambray shirt. Macy joined him just a second later.

      “Are you ready to go?”

      She nodded. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

      The Amarillo Rose sat on one of the smaller county roads, but one well-traveled by truckers avoiding the sometimes more crowded state highways. Sitting smack dab in between Esperanza and another rural town, the location made it a great watering hole for the truckers who were headed from the Corpus Christi area to Lubbock or other northern cities.

      The paint on the sprawling one story structure was a faded color which had probably once been yellow based on the name of the place and the slightly more colorful neon sign of a yellow rose close to the roadway. A couple of tractor trailers were parked off to the side of the building and a Chevy Silverado that was at least a decade old sat near the door.

      As they walked by the truck, they noticed the name of a fish company painted on the door along with a Dallas address.

      Macy took it to be a good sign.

      She entered first, her eyes adjusting to the dimmer light. A small podium stood by the door and beyond that, a long bar to the left. In the center of the space were dozens of tables and chairs and to the far right, a small dance floor and bandstand.

      Plastic bunting in red, white and blue emblazoned with the name of a local beer hung from the ceilings. The walls were adorned with yet more ads and neon signs for an assortment of beers.

      At the bar, a bartender was filling a glass with beer while a waitress laid out a plate for one of the three customers seated at the counter.

      Fisher placed a hand at the small of her back and after a quick exchange of gazes, urged her toward the bar. She took a seat as did he and the bartender approached after setting the beer in front of one of the patrons. He slapped down paper coasters on the relatively clean surface of the bar.

      “What can I get you folks?” He inclined his head in Macy’s direction.

      “An iced tea for me,” she answered and Fisher immediately added, “And another for me.”

      The bartender quickly shifted away to get their orders and the waitress came to their side, held the menus before her as she said, “Can I get you folks some food? We’ve got a mean five alarm chili today as well as a to die for peach cobbler.”

      Fisher met her glance for only a second. “Peach cobbler for me. With vanilla ice cream if you’ve got it.”

      “We sure do, honey. What about you, ma’am. Same thing as your husband?” the waitress asked.

      Macy was about to protest her mistake, but then thought better of it. If the waitress thought they were concerned parents searching for their daughter, she might be more inclined to help them. “I’ll just have the cobbler, thanks.”

      The waitress walked away to fill their orders while the bartender came by with their drinks. “Here you go, folks. Is there anything else I can get you?”

      Fisher pulled the photo of Sara from his pocket and as he did so, she quickly spoke up. “My husband and I are looking for our daughter, Sara.”

      Fisher masked his surprise well, she thought, as he pushed forward the picture they had taken off the Internet.

      “We think she might have come through here. Maybe a couple of weeks ago,” Fisher said.

      The bartender peered at the photo and then called out to one of the men sitting farther down the bar, “Maybe only…Hey, Billy Joe. Didn’t you say that you gave a young girl a ride a few days ago?”

      Billy Joe, a grizzled older man sporting a trucker’s hat, slid off his stool and approached them. Leaning toward the picture on the bar, he placed his hands on his lips and tipped the hat back, exposing his Marine-buzzed salt and pepper hair.

      “Yep. Picked her up just outside of Esperanza on…” The man rubbed the thick graying stubble on his cheeks as he tried to recollect. Finally, he said, “I think about two nights ago. She was on the road all by herself trying to get back to some ranch just outside of town.”

      “The Hopechest Ranch?” she asked and the old man nodded.

      “I think that was the place. Dropped her off at the end of the driveway and she hightailed it up to the front door and went in.”

      “Your company’s from Dallas, though, right. Do you do the drive from there regularly?” Fisher asked.

      “I СКАЧАТЬ