Texas Rebels--Paxton Read online

  Grandpa got to his feet. “I’ll help you boys. I can still ride a horse.”

  “We’re feeding cows, Grandpa,” Elias said.

  “You don’t think I’ve ever fed cows?”

  They were arguing as they went out the door. Falcon followed and that left him and his mother. He knew what was coming. Something in the house needed fixing. He was good at plumbing, wiring, all kinds of contracting work. And he hated it. But sometimes he did what he had to.

  He leaned forward in his chair, his hands clasped between his legs. “So what do you need?”

  His mother waved a hand. “Oh, no, it’s nothing like that. You know Miss Bertie Snipes?”

  “Everybody knows Miss Bertie and steers clear of her. She’s loony as a bat.”

  “Now, son, I raised you not to be judgmental or critical. Her son was killed in the marines, her only son, and it changed her. Yes, she’s a little different, and she needs our help.”

  That rolled around in his head for a minute, and if it sounded like he thought it did, he was ready to run. “What are you talking about?”

  “Quincy usually helps her with her cows since Edgar died, but he’s busy this morning and I thought you would be nice enough to haul her calves to the auction barn in Cameron. If you take the shortcut, it shouldn’t take you long.”

  Paxton jumped to his feet. “Oh, no, no!”

  His mother took off her glasses and laid them on the desk alongside a picture of his dad and her when they’d first gotten married. His eyes rested on the photo and he couldn’t seem to look away from all the love and the pain that was echoed there and in his heart.

  “I don’t want to force you to do anything. So if that’s the way you feel, I’ll haul the calves.”

  His mother was a master at playing the guilt card and it was working, like always, making him feel guilty, selfish and self-centered. A bell, like a church bell, sounded in his head. He wanted to change his life and this was where he started. By helping others. But why did it have to be a crazy old lady?

  * * *

  THIRTY MINUTES LATER he crossed the main highway from Rebel Road to County Road 461. Miss Bertie lived in a small white frame house with black shutters and a chain-link fence. The property was neat and clean and shaded with big oak trees. An Australian blue healer raced around the chain-link fence at the rattle of the cow trailer.

  Paxton drove to the back and saw the corral was to the left. A 1990 Chevy truck was parked near the barn and a small SUV was in front of the house. He knew the SUV wasn’t Miss Bertie’s so she must have company. That was good. He could get this over with quickly.

  Calves milled around in the corral. That was another good thing. Loading would be easy. He backed up to the wood chute and got out. Miss Bertie hurried from the house with the dog at her heels. A floppy straw hat crowned her head, and she wore a big flannel shirt and baggy jeans stuffed into work boots. In her hand was a shotgun—an old double-barrel. That gave him pause.

  “Who are you coming onto my property?” She fired the words at him like bullets.

  Guess his mother didn’t call her.

  He tipped his hat, refusing to be intimidated by the fire in her eyes. And the shotgun. “I’m Paxton Rebel. My mother sent me over to haul your calves to the auction.”

  “My, my.” She placed the butt of the gun on the ground and leaned on the barrel, peering at him a little closer through thick glasses. “You’re one of the younger ones, the bull rider who spends most of his life on the road.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Now aren’t you a handsome devil?”

  “I’ve never thought about it.”

  “Sure.” She slapped a hand on her jean-clad thigh. “It’s kind of hard to think with girls trailing behind you.” She glanced toward the corral and her demeanor changed instantly. “We don’t have time for small talk. Time to get these calves loaded.” She inspected the trailer backed up to the loading chute. “You did that perfectly. Can tell you’re a cowboy.”

  Paxton noticed the platform from the corral to the trailer was missing and there was no way for the calves to get into the trailer, except if they knew how to fly. “Ma’am, the ramp is missing from the corral.”

  She grunted. “It fell apart years ago. There’s always a way. Haven’t you learned that by now?” She opened the gate and walked into the pen, hollering and shouting until the calves scurried into the chute. They stopped at the trailer.

  The dog barked.

  “Shut up, Memphis,” she scolded.

  Memphis.

  Paxton jumped over the fence. It was wobbly. The whole corral looked as if it was going to fall down at any minute. “This is what I was telling you. If—”

  She raised the shotgun and fired into the air. Stunned for a second, he was speechless, and then he grabbed it from her hand before she could fire it again.

  Yanking the gun from his hand, she said, “Don’t ever take my gun.”

  He swallowed hard at the rough words, but he didn’t falter.

  “See.” She pointed to the calves that were jumping into the trailer, scared for their lives. “That’s how you get ’em inside. Pull your truck up and I’ll close the gate.”

  “Crazy old woman,” Paxton muttered to himself as he jumped over the fence and then pulled his truck forward. Before he could reach the back of the trailer, Miss Bertie had it already closed. But he double-checked it.

  “I’ll be on my way,” he said more to himself than to her.

  “Now wait just a minute.” She pulled a piece of paper out of her shirt pocket. “There’s four black with white faces, five red with white faces and two scrubby-looking things. That’s eleven.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Did she think he would try to cheat her?

  “Gotta watch those people at the auction barn. They’ll cheat you if they can. Keep your eyes open.”

  Holy crap. “Yes, ma’am.”

  She pulled some money out of her pocket and handed it to him. It was a five-dollar bill. “Take this for gas.”

  Was she freaking kidding? Five dollars for a diesel truck wouldn’t get them out of the driveway. But he knew better than not to take it.

  “I’ll be on my way.”

  She glanced toward the house and then back at him. “Just a minute. I need a favor. A big favor.”

  Oh, no. But what did he say?

  “I don’t have much time, Miss Bertie. I have to get back to the ranch to work.”

  “Ah, don’t give me that.” She grunted again. “It’ll only take a few minutes.”

  “Well...” He felt like a fish on a hook and he knew he wasn’t getting out of here without doing what she wanted. He just had a feeling it was going to be something he didn’t want to do.

  “When you bring my sales receipt back, I’ll invite you into the house and I want you to meet my granddaughter.”

  Oh, crap. She was playing matchmaker. The one thing he hated most in the world.

  “She’s been feeling a little down lately and a nice-looking man like you could cheer her up real fast.”

  “Miss Bertie...”

  But the old woman wasn’t listening. “I’ll introduce you and you can say something like what a beautiful granddaughter I have. That’s it. Just a compliment to cheer her up. You can do that, can’t you, Handsome?”

  “I’d rather not.” He figured honesty was the best place to start.

  The butt of the shotgun rested on the ground. She lifted it into her hand. “I’d rather that you did. Do you know what I mean?”

  No, he didn’t.

  “Miss Bertie, I know you’re trying to help your granddaughter, but complimenting her is going to sound fake. It’s not done like that these days.”

  “How’s it done, then?”

  “With a l
ook. It’s the way a guy looks at a girl or the way a girl looks at a guy to let them know they’re interested. That’s how it’s done. You can compliment someone, but they’ll probably laugh in your face.”

  She shrugged. “Who knows how you young folks live these days. You just come into my kitchen and give her the look, and you better do it because if you don’t, I’ll come looking for you. Get my drift?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He climbed into his truck. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you.”

  He sincerely hoped this would be their last meeting because he had no intention of returning to compliment her granddaughter. His mother could bring the sales receipt and he’d stay as far away as possible.

  Chapter Two

  One hour and thirty minutes later Paxton zoomed toward Horseshoe, Texas, and Rebel Ranch. He wasn’t being manipulated by Miss Bertie. But then the seeds of guilt began to play with his mind. His dad had always said once you start a job, you make sure you finish it. He could remember when he was a kid, he and his dad were fixing a fence and it began to drizzle and then it started to sleet. But his dad worked on, saying a man always finishes the job he starts.

  If he gave the sales slip to his mother, so Miss Bertie could pick up her check, that meant he hadn’t finished the job. Disappointment would be in his mother’s eyes and in that moment he knew he couldn’t just run away like a little boy. What would it hurt to compliment Miss Bertie’s plain-Jane granddaughter? He’d flirted with more girls than he could remember. One more was a piece of cake.

  He turned off the highway onto County Road 461 and drove across the cattle guard, the trailer clanging. The dog raced along the chain-link fence, barking his head off. Paxton stopped the truck at the back of the house and slammed the gearshift into Park. He picked up Miss Bertie’s sales receipt, which had a tag number and a description of each calf, from the console and headed for the back door.

  Memphis jumped up and down, barking and wagging his tail, eager to see a person. He had a heck of a time keeping the dog from darting out the gate. A long porch adorned the back of the house with a couple of old rocking chairs. He went up the steps and knocked on the built-in-screen glass door.

  “Come on in!” Miss Bertie shouted.

  He opened the door and stepped into 1960, or the late 1950s. The floor was yellow-and-white linoleum and the chairs and table were an old Formica set. It reminded him of his grandmother’s old house. Miss Bertie came into the kitchen and this time she wasn’t wearing a hat. Her short gray hair stuck out in all directions. He wondered if she had a brush or a comb.

  She winked at him. “Sweetie, come here. We have company.”

  “Gran, I’m riding my bike.”

  “We still greet company in my house. Get your butt in here.”

  Paxton removed his hat, ready to get this over with as fast as he could.

  A girl appeared in the doorway in jogging pants and a sweatshirt with the University of Houston on it. She was thin and frail, and her clothes hung on her. Her short light brown hair framed a pretty face. Familiar sea-green eyes stared at him.

  The girl from Port Aransas.

  She was as stunned as he was, grabbing the door frame for support.

  “Remi, sweetie, this is Paxton Rebel. And this is my granddaughter—”

  “What are you doing letting a Rebel into your house?” The girl turned on her grandmother.

  Miss Bertie shrugged. “I have nothing against the Rebels.”

  “John Rebel killed my father. Have you forgotten that?”

  Oh, crap. It dawned on Paxton for the first time. This had to be Ezra McCray’s daughter. He’d been younger then and had forgotten a lot of the details. But Miss Bertie’s daughter, Ava, had married Ezra McCray. Paxton knew they had a son, Ruger, but he had no idea they had a daughter.

  “Okay, missy, I’m not standing here and letting you paint your father as a saint. He was an evil man and I would have killed him myself, but your grandfather always stopped me. He beat your mother so many times and I begged her to leave, but she was scared to death of him. Everyone in this town was scared of him. And in case you’ve forgotten he tried to kill two of the Rebel boys.”

  “I’d rather not talk about this and I’d rather not talk to him.” She nodded toward Paxton.

  “Do you know what he’s doing here?” Miss Bertie asked.

  “No.”

  “He hauled my calves to the auction barn because Ruger wouldn’t. Your brother is under Ira McCray’s thumb and he won’t let him do anything for me. These are the people you’re protecting. People you don’t even know. You were less than two years old when your mother took you to Houston. Later, your mother remarried and Nathan adopted you. Nathan is your father and Ezra is nothing to you.”

  “Gran—”

  Paxton had had enough. He wasn’t stepping into this land mine. He handed Miss Bertie the papers. “You can pick up your check tomorrow afternoon.” He tipped his hat. “It’s been a pleasure.”

  “Wait a minute. I want to look at this,” Miss Bertie called, and he forced himself to stop and turn around. “I have to find my glasses.” She disappeared down a hallway.

  Remi stepped farther into the room. “What are you doing here?”

  “Your grandmother just told you. I hauled her calves to the auction.”

  “There was no need.”

  “Oh, and who was going to do it? You?”

  “I could have.”

  “I don’t think so. You have a hard time standing and you’re pale and thin.” The moment the words left his mouth he knew they were not something you’d say to a woman. And he was right. Her sea-green eyes simmered with anger.

  She moved closer to him. “I’m fine. Do you hear me? I’m fine.” She wagged one long finger in his face. “I’m fine.”

  He did the only thing a red-blooded cowboy could do. He bit her finger.

  She jumped back, holding her finger. “You bit me!”

  “I’m going to keep biting you until you admit the truth.”

  “You...you...stay away from my grandmother.” She turned and hurried into the living room.

  “A thank-you would have been nice!” he shouted to her back.

  Miss Bertie walked in and glanced at him, then to the empty doorway. “Is that part of the look?”

  Paxton swung toward the door. “No. It’s goodbye.”

  He shoved the shift into gear, backed up and left the crazy ladies behind. He was sticking his nose into something that didn’t concern him and he had no desire to get to know Ezra McCray’s daughter.

  * * *

  REMI SANK ONTO the sofa, fuming. How dare he stick his nose into her business? She curled her hand into a fist, still feeling the warmth of his lips and his teeth against her skin. That strange gesture had awakened something in her that had been dormant for a long time—the need for male companionship. But not him. He was arrogant and rude and...

  Gran sat beside her. “What’s the matter, sweetie?”

  “Nothing.” She tried to hide what she was feeling, but feared she failed.

  “What did he mean about a thank-you?”

  “Nothing, Gran. He’s just an arrogant jerk.”

  “Oh, I thought he was a very handsome young man. If I were your age, I’d be batting my eyes at him and smiling as sweetly as I could.”

  “You would not. Things were very proper back then.”

  Gran let out a big laugh and slapped her leg with her hand. “Oh, sweetie, men and women are men and women at any age. Now your grandpa, he was quiet and shy. I had my work cut out for me because I had him picked out for a long time. We were at a school dance, and when it was time for the girls to choose their partners, I chose him. When they shouted to change partners, I didn’t let go and said, ‘I’d rather dance with you.’ He said, ‘I
would, too.’ And from that day on we were a couple.”

  “That’s so sweet, Gran.” How she wished it could be that simple today. But she had too much on her mind to even think about getting involved with someone. Not that he was interested in her. He’d said she was pale and thin. Pale and thin? As much as the words made her angry, she knew they were true. Would she ever be strong enough to be able to adopt Annie?

  She rested her head on her grandmother’s shoulder. “I wish I had lived in your time.”

  “No, you don’t. You’re struggling right now, but life will turn around for you. Have you called your parents?”

  “Yes. I think they were camped out in my apartment waiting for me to come home.”

  Gran stroked Remi’s hair. “They just worry about you.”

  “I know, but the accident happened in October and I’m strong enough to live in my apartment again. I wish they would understand that.”

  “When you’re a mother, you’ll understand those feelings.”

  Remi sat up. “I was so devastated when my lawyer called and told me not to go to the hospital anymore to see Annie. The adoption process is in full swing and other couples will be ‘visiting’ with her, as CPS puts it. When I heard that, I ran like I always do, as if I can outrun my fears. But I have to face that I might not get Annie because of my health. That’s so unfair.”

  “Yes. But you said your interview and the visit to your apartment went well, so don’t lose hope.”

  Remi scooted to face her grandmother. “Dad and Mom moved my bed over and we were able to get Annie’s baby bed that Holly and I had bought into the room, and the changing table. A small chest for her clothes fit in there, too. It looks really nice and I was happy the room was big enough. I wish I had had time to get a bigger apartment or maybe a house.”

  Gran patted Remi’s leg. “Love is all that counts.”

  Remi prayed that was true. “In the fall I go back to teaching and I have to find a really good day care for Annie.”

  “Now don’t go putting the cart before the horse. Let’s get over this hurdle first.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Remi lay back on the couch and raised her left leg. “Time for stretches. Push my leg as far back as you can.”