Once a Cowboy Read online

Alex smiled on her way out the door.

  Buck wasn’t in the office so she didn’t know where he was, but at least the air was working. She called the lab to set up the DNA test. She dropped the comb off and called Helen, who was eager to help by giving her DNA. Now they waited.

  As Alex worked on other cases, she kept thinking about Brodie. Maybe someday she’d have the opportunity to apologize for stealing his comb.

  B RODIE WOKE UP to quiet, like always. That’s the way he wanted it. His friends called him a people person because he acted outgoing on the rodeo circuit, but he was really a loner. He enjoyed the peace and the quiet. Maybe that had something to do with age, too.

  When he was younger, partying was in his blood. The more people around him, the better he liked it. Today life was more sedate and that suited him. He was comfortable with his life choices, but he’d probably always regret the rift with his parents. At least they’d tried to work through it as a family. That was important to him.

  He showered and slipped into jeans. After shaving, he reached for his comb, but it wasn’t there. He looked in the drawer, then the cabinet. The comb had disappeared. He’d had it yesterday when he’d combed his hair to go see his mother. That was the last time he’d seen it.

  No one had been here, not even the cleaning lady. So what could have happened to it? Wait a minute. The lady in the Jeep had used his bathroom. Could she have taken his comb? What the hell would she want it for? It didn’t make any sense, but he was becoming increasingly intrigued. Why would Alex Donovan steal his comb?

  Next time he would be more careful who he let use his bathroom. It was a comb, less than five bucks so what did it matter? Sometimes girls who followed the rodeo circuit would steal an item that belonged to a cowboy they had a crush on just to have something to connect them. But Alex didn’t seem like a groupie and she hadn’t come on to him. She was friendly, that’s all.

  So what was going on?

  Finding another comb, he finished dressing and headed for the barn. He saddled his horse, Jax, a thoroughbred quarter horse he’d gotten from Colter, who raised them. With the dogs trotting behind him, he checked the herd and all the water troughs to make sure the cattle had water in the searing heat.

  Riding gave him peace and he enjoyed the movement, the rhythm, even the sun on his face and the calluses on his hands. He knew who he was—a cowboy in control. As his boots touched soil again the comb business nagged at him.

  Suddenly he wanted to find the lady in the Jeep—Alex.

  Chapter Three

  Brodie arrived at his mother’s around ten. Propped up in bed, his petite, fragile mother looked pale yet she seemed much better than yesterday. Cleo fussed about, fluffing pillows and straightening the bed linens.

  “Brodie, my son,” Claudia said. “I’m sorry I scared you yesterday.”

  He sat in a Queen Anne chair, his hat in his hand, feeling out of place. “How are you today?”

  “Much better.”

  “She should,” Cleo said. “I’ve been waiting on her hand and foot. You know you’re not helpless, Claudie.”

  Cleo was the antithesis of his mother—she was strong, resilient and resourceful. But Claudia, her older sister, was her Achilles’ heel.

  “Cleo, please. I don’t want to argue today.”

  “Me, neither. And I don’t plan on staying in every night, Claudie, so get used to it.” Cleo winked at Brodie. “How about a cup of coffee, cowboy?”

  “I’ll settle for iced tea.”

  “You got it.”

  After Cleo left, Brodie searched for the right words and knew there weren’t any. He carefully placed his hat on his knee. “Mother, you can’t expect Cleo to stay home all the time. She’s sixty-four and enjoys her friends.”

  “Men friends, you mean.”

  “Whatever.”

  “She’s been married three times and has absolutely nothing to show for it. You’d think she’d appreciate a roof over her head.”

  He grabbed his hat and stood in a quick movement because he was about to lose every ounce of patience he’d been blessed with. “Cleo is not your personal slave and she has a right to her own life, whatever that might be.”

  “You always take her side.” Claudia sank farther into the pillows with a hurt expression.

  “It’s not about sides, Mother.” He raked a hand through his hair. “Tell you what. I’ll check in to getting someone to stay here when Cleo is out. That way it will be easier for both of you.”

  “You know you remind me of your father when you do that?”

  “What?” He was disconcerted for a moment.

  “Your father. Tom always ran a hand through his hair when he was agitated. His hair was dark and thick like yours.”

  She talked as if he didn’t remember his father, but he remembered him very well. When his father crammed a hand through his hair, Brodie quickly disappeared. That meant a stern lecture was about to ensue.

  He shook the thought from his mind. “Mother, did you hear what I said?”

  “I don’t want a stranger in the house. Why can’t you stay with me?”

  That took the air right out of his chest. He and his mother weren’t close. They’d been estranged for a lot of years. When he’d left college, his father had told him to never come back home, that neither he nor Brodie’s mother supported his decision to ride professionally. And Brodie was no son of theirs if he chose that life. His mother was always the buffer between Tom and Brodie, but this time she stood stoutly behind her husband’s decision.

  He knew they thought he would change his mind and they had to be united and strong in their stance. Somewhere inside him he found the courage to walk out the door, realizing he was leaving his childhood behind but hoping to find the man he was supposed to be.

  The first two years he had no contact with them at all, then he called home one Christmas. That started periodic phone calls, which usually ended with his mother begging him to stop the silly foolishness of the rodeo. His father’s words were always terse. When his father had attended the national finals, they’d finally made their peace. He accepted that Brodie was different than him.

  After his father had died and Claudia had moved to Dallas, he and his mother started building a new relationship. Talking to his mother for any length of time had always been a chore for him. The conversation always came around to his choices in life and how bad they were.

  Hours with her could make him old before his time. But she was his mother and he loved her. A few hours weren’t going to kill him. Guilt was a powerful thing. It turned cowboys into sissies.

  “It’s not like you have a wife or anything,” Claudia said at his hesitation.

  “I have a ranch to run. It’s very time-consuming.”

  “I never understood your interest in cows and horses. I thought you would outgrow it.”

  He clamped his jaw tight. “No, Mother. That’s not going to happen.”

  “I see that now.”

  An awkward pause followed.

  Claudia tied the bow on her bed jacket. “I am proud of your success, though. Your father was, too.”

  “Really?” He didn’t quite believe that.

  “Of course we were. It was just hard for us to accept your lifestyle.”

  “You make it sound like I was into some sort of deviant behavior.” He clenched a fist to keep his cool.

  She looked directly at him. “Why do you get so angry when we talk?”

  “Maybe because you criticize.”

  “Do I?” Her green eyes feigned innocence. “I don’t mean to.”

  Brodie had had enough conversation. “It’s after ten. Aren’t you getting up
today?”

  “In a little while. Those spells take so much out of me and some days it’s just taxing to get out of bed.”

  “Getting upset doesn’t help.”

  “I know. I’m just a lonely old woman.”

  The guilt bored into his chest like the horn of a bull. He bit the bullet and said, “I’ll stay with you when Cleo goes out.”

  Claudia smiled. “Thank you, darling.”

  He drew a deep breath. “But, Mother, we have to talk about your fear of being alone.”

  She shifted uneasily in the bed. “You know I’ve never liked to stay by myself and ever since your father died it’s gotten worse. I know it’s irrational, but I can’t help it.”

  “Maybe you need to get out more.” Recently she hadn’t been involved with her social functions.

  “Maybe.”

  “Call your friend Ruth and get back into the bridge group. You always enjoyed playing. And what about the Heart Association fund-raiser and luncheon? That’s your pet project and they need your help.”

  “I’m tired, darling. I think I’ll just rest.”

  For the first time he realized his mother might be going through depression and he planned to mention that to the doctor. He didn’t like seeing her this despondent.

  B RODIE DECIDED to let Alex keep his comb—for now. He had more pressing matters to deal with. Later, though, he would find out why she saw a need to steal something from his home.

  He spent two nights at his mother’s watching chick-flick movies. His mother talked about his childhood, his father and her life as an army wife. She talked and he listened. As a single male, he realized this was probably the lowest point in his life—spending evenings with his mother. What had happened to the charmer who had a different woman every night? He’d just hit rock bottom. He had to get his mother back into the swing of living.

  T HE HOUSE WAS VERY QUIET without Naddy. She’d called and said they’d arrived safely so Alex didn’t worry. But with Naddy there was always cause to worry. She tended to do the unexpected.

  Alex and Buck finished the cases for the DA and Buck was pleased because in both cases the attorneys were able to secure a guilty verdict.

  The DA had its own investigators, but when they needed someone to go the extra mile they knew who to call. Buck was known for getting information out of the person without them knowing it. Everything Alex had learned about investigating, she’d learned from her father.

  That morning Buck said, “I’m off to the coast for a few days of fishing.”

  “Oh?” She looked up from reading the paper.

  “Yeah. Bert’s putting a new heating-and-cooling unit in so it’s no use hanging around here.”

  “What? You never mentioned that.”

  “Thought I did.”

  “No. I would have remembered it.”

  “Well, you might think about taking some time off, too. We have the Cryder and Wilcox cases next week and we might as well start fresh.” He poured another cup of coffee. “I’m going to hook up my boat.”

  Time off. That sounded wonderful to Alex. She had a friend, Patsy, in Florida she could visit and lie on the beach with drinking piña coladas. As she jumped up to call Patsy, the phone rang.

  “Alex, it’s Lou at the lab.”

  This was it. He had the results of the Braxton DNA test. She braced herself.

  “I’m sorry. We can’t get a clear DNA from Mr. Hayes’s hair. We’ll need blood or saliva to complete the test.”

  “Thanks, Lou. I’ll get back to you.”

  She hung up cursing. Damn. This could have been so easy. How was she going to get his blood or saliva? By asking, like she should have done in the first place.

  Being discreet had its advantages, but the ethics of this whole situation bothered her. She’d wanted to make things easy for Helen and Brodie—that’s the only reason she’d stolen the comb. Ever since she’d done that, though, it had been niggling at her.

  She’d have to do this by the book, as Buck had taught her. She’d have to tell Brodie Hayes the truth. He deserved that and it would keep her principles about her job intact. She grabbed her purse, heading for Brodie’s ranch once again.

  Parking at the house, she spotted him at the corrals on a horse, herding cattle into a pen. Plumes of dust spiraled around him. His truck and trailer were backed up to a loading chute.

  Without a second thought she walked to the pipe corral. He dismounted and closed the gate, his gaze swinging to her. His loose-limbed strides brought him closer and she thought again how incredibly sexy he was. Today there were no starched clothes. His chambray shirt and jeans were worn, his boots dusty and his Stetson stained with sweat.

  The hat pulled low hid his eyes, but from the firm set of his jaw she knew he wasn’t happy to see her.

  “You’re back,” he said, his voice unfriendly.

  “May I speak with you please?”

  “Lady, I’m rather busy at the moment.” Those blue eyes blazed. “And people who steal are not people I want to talk to.”

  “If you’ll give me a few minutes, I can explain.”

  He seemed to think about it. “You’ve got five minutes.” He meandered around cows to a gate, his dogs behind him. Within seconds, he was standing next to her and his nearness seemed to cut off her breathing.

  The heat was suffocating her even more. “Could we sit somewhere?” She blinked against the sun.

  He turned toward the barn and she saw a bench beneath an oak tree. She sat down, glad of the shade. He remained standing, staring at her with narrowed eyes. The bluest blue was frosty and she felt a moment of trepidation.

  The dogs sniffed at her feet and she patted them. “What’s their names?”

  “Buck and Butch.”

  She couldn’t help it. She laughed.

  “You find that funny?” He lifted a dark eyebrow.

  “No. Yes…you see, we call my dad Buck.”

  The little bit of conversation seemed to relieve the tension and he sank down by her. “Who are you?”

  She took a moment, then said, “I’m a private investigator.”

  He looked at her with a startled expression. “Are you investigating me?”

  “Yes.”

  Brodie was taken aback. He’d never met a detective who looked quite like her before, with soft brown eyes, high cheekbones and a bow of a mouth. A kissable, tantalizing mouth. Her blond hair was pulled back like the other day, but today she wore snug-fitting jeans and a knit top. She appeared more like a model than a detective.

  He swallowed. “Why?”

  “It’s kind of hard to explain.”

  He thought for a minute. She took his comb, which probably had strands of his hair on it. Oh no. He jumped to his feet. “Were you trying to get my DNA?”

  Her eyes grew big, as if she didn’t quite expect him to grasp that so quickly. “Yes.”

  “Who is it?”

  She frowned. “What?”

  “I assume some woman I’ve slept with is trying to find out if I’m the father of her child. Who is it?” Just saying the words caused a painful knot to form in his stomach. He was always careful, always used protection, but there was always that slim chance.

  She shook her head. “It’s nothing like that.”

  He removed his hat and wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. “Then what is it?” Relief oozed out of him. He could actually feel it.

  “Do you know a Helen Braxton?”

  “No. Never heard the name. Who is she?”

  There was silence for a moment.

  Alex took her time, not knowing
quite how to do this. The paternity thing threw her and she wondered just how many women there’d been in his life. Probably more than he could remember. His relief was very evident. She was getting sidetracked and she brought her thoughts back to his question.

  There wasn’t an easy way to do this so she just came out with it. “Someone stole her baby from the hospital nursery almost forty years ago.”

  The dark eyebrow rose again. “So? What does that have to do with me?”

  She stared at him. “She thinks you might be her son.”

  He drew back. “You’re joking, right?”

  “No.” She held his gaze.

  An eerie quiet wrapped around them. A cow mooed, the dogs barked in response and trotted to the corral to investigate. The hot sun fueled an unbearable heat. A typical summer day, but there was nothing typical about the innuendoes and unspoken truths.

  He studied his hat in his hand. “Why does she think I’m her son?”

  “She saw your picture in the paper and you resemble her other sons.”

  “That’s it?” His face creased into a frown. “You invade my privacy because this woman thinks I might be her long lost son. You have no proof. Nothing.”

  “No. That’s why I wanted to do this discreetly, to keep you from ever knowing—if it wasn’t true.”

  “How noble of you.”

  “I realize the lady has been grieving for a long time and that she’s grasping at straws, but there is something very similar about all the photos she showed me.”

  “Get off my ranch, Ms. Donovan. I don’t want to hear any more of this nonsense.”

  She stood, knowing this conversation was over. He was getting angry.

  “And I want my damn comb back.”

  She reached into her back pocket and pulled it out. “The lab couldn’t get a clear DNA. They would need your blood or saliva.” She held up a hand as he made to speak. “If you’re curious, here’s my card.” She fished it out of her front pocket. “Just call me.”

  “I’m not remotely curious. I know exactly who my parents are. My father was in Germany when I was born, but my aunt was with my mother and took care of us until we flew to Germany to be with my dad. No mystery at all. You have the wrong man.”