All Roads Lead to Texas. Linda Warren

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СКАЧАТЬ Brit forgets things easily, and frankly I need to spend all my time on the house.”

      And not getting involved with me. Where did that thought come from? He didn’t even know the woman, but he liked her and…

      He cleared his throat. “Are the kids comfortable for the night?”

      “Yes. They’re completely exhausted.”

      He nodded. “I’m sure you are, too, so I’ll let you get to bed.” He tipped his hat again. “Have a good night.”

      With that, Wade strolled down the step to his squad car. He’d vowed to stay away from Callie and give her some space, but when he’d glimpsed her sitting in the rocker he’d stopped without even thinking. The offer of Brit riding a horse bothered him. After he’d done it, he realized he shouldn’t have, especially after Callie’s reaction. And of course Jock would be against anyone riding Lucky. It was best to rectify things now, but he didn’t feel good about hurting Brit. He wondered how Callie would explain it.

      Before getting into his car, he glanced at the front porch. Callie had gone inside. He felt a moment of loneliness and he had no idea what that meant. He felt lonely all the time—nothing and no one could make that go away. Talking to her was almost surreal, like this was something he needed. And he’d told her about Zach. He never spoke to anyone about his son, except his friend Ethan Ritter. Ethan had lost a sister, so he knew about that kind of pain.

      He got in his car and headed toward Spring Creek Ranch.

      And a confrontation with his father.

      WHEN WADE WALKED into the kitchen, Jock was sitting at the table nursing a cup of coffee. The mug trembled in his hands.

      “How you feeling, Pop?”

      “Hummph.”

      Wade poured a cup and straddled a chair across from his father. He and Jock used to be the same height, but at sixty-nine Jock’s height had diminished. His hair was silver-gray and his face leathery and wrinkled from years in the sun. A man who once walked with pride now found it a struggle to get through each day, and on days when he needed help, he depended on the bottle. There were too many of those days to Wade’s way of thinking. They had to talk.

      Where to start? Talking to his father had always been a hard thing to do. Wade had idolized Jock and wanted to be just like him. He’d been Wyatt Earp and John Wayne combined to a young Wade. Seeing him in this state of depression was even harder. Now Wade would have to be the strong one.

      He gripped his cup. “Pop, this drinking has to stop.”

      Jock held his head with both hands. “My head’s pounding, son, and if I get angry it might explode.”

      “Then stop drinking.”

      “What else have I got to do?”

      “Work this ranch like you always have.” He paused, using all the ammunition he had. “That’s what Zach would want.”

      Jock gulped down a swallow of coffee. “I don’t want to talk about Zach.”

      “We have to,” Wade insisted, knowing they had to get to the root of Jock’s problem. “You blame me. You haven’t come out and said it, but I know you do.”

      Jock glared at him through bloodshot eyes. “Why did you let him go to that party? Why?”

      It was the first time Jock had asked that question and it was long overdue. Wade removed his hat and slowly placed it on the table, that permanent knot in his stomach felt like a rope pulled taut. To avoid the pain, he could get up and walk away like he always did. But he couldn’t do that anymore or soon that rope would choke him to death.

      He swallowed to ease the knot. “Zach wanted to go and it was a party for twelve-year-olds. Kim and I thought it would be safe.”

      “But it wasn’t, was it?”

      Unable to sit any longer, he stood and jammed both hands through his hair, losing control. “No. I killed him because I didn’t check out the situation. Does that make you feel better?”

      Jock hung his head.

      “I will feel the guilt of his death every day of my life, but I’m not going to sit by and watch you drink yourself to death. You and I are left to face this world so let’s do it the best way we can. Without arguing—like Zach would want.”

      “Zach never liked it when you and I argued.” Jock brushed hair out of his eyes.

      “No,” Wade agreed. “He loved us both.”

      “Yeah. He was a good kid. I just don’t see why those boys didn’t get jail time.”

      Wade took his seat again, suddenly feeling a relief to be able to talk about his son. “I tried everything I could, but they were twelve years old. They’re on probation until they’re twenty-one and their activities are monitored. That’s all the court would do.”

      That still rankled Wade, but he’d learned to live with it the best way he could.

      An awkward silence followed.

      “Pop, there’s a kid in town who wants to ride a horse. Lucky needs to be ridden and—”

      Jock stumbled to his feet. “Nobody rides that horse. Nobody.”

      Jock hobbled away and Wade buried his face in his hands. Was life always going to be like this? He’d had just about his limit. From out of nowhere, Callie Austin’s face appeared in his mind and he wondered why he could see it so clearly.

      THE NEXT MORNING, Callie woke up to noise and she scrambled from her bag into her clothes. She heard the pounding of a hammer, the whiz of a saw, the buzz of a mower and voices—several voices.

      “What’s that?” Adam asked, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

      “I’ll check. Stay with your sisters.”

      Callie opened her front door and stopped short. People were everywhere and she didn’t know any of them. Two men were working on the picket fence, another was mowing the grass. Several men were working on the roof and the column. Odell stepped up on the porch with a tool belt that looked bigger than him around his waist.

      “Odell, what’s going on?”

      “You told me to fix up the place and that’s what I’m doing.”

      “I’m paying for all these people?”

      “No, ma’am. The guy mowing is Walter and he’s retired and just likes to mow. He helps out the new residents—sort of makes them feel welcome. That’s Delbert and his son, Little Del, working on the fence. They help out when they can and they owe me a favor. And the men working on the house I hired so I can do the job as quickly as possible. That’s what you wanted, right?”

      “Yes,” she answered absently, realizing for the first time that no one ever said their last name. Everybody knew everybody, Wade had said, so she supposed there was no need, except she didn’t know anyone. It would help to know a last name, especially if it was Collins.

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