The Texan's Christmas Read online

  “Yep. Learned a lesson.” He glanced toward Bubba Joe who was standing in the doorway to the storeroom, close to his shotgun in case a fight broke out. “Bet you don’t pick on big Bubba anymore.”

  “Hell, no. He can bench-press me without any effort.” Luther’s eyes narrowed. “You working for Lucky now?”

  “No. I was apologizing to these guys for making an ass out of myself.” He thumbed to the cowboys. “How about if I buy everybody a round?”

  “Sounds good,” Luther replied.

  This time Lucky met him at the cooler, placing her hand on the handle. “What are you doing?”

  “Now don’t get upset.” His brown eyes twinkled like she remembered and her heart fluttered crazily. “Too late.”

  “Just give me a few minutes and I’ll be out of here.” He touched her hand and she jerked it away.

  “Don’t touch me.” She took a long breath, knowing she was fighting a losing battle with her emotions. “You have a few minutes and then I want you to be invisible.”

  “Come on, Lucky, invisible is really hard to do.” He shot her a cocky grin and not hitting him was even harder not to do.

  “Do it.” She grabbed the beers and handed them to him, careful that their hands didn’t touch.

  He winked…again! She gritted her teeth.

  “Where y’all from?” Luther was asking the cowboys and she forced her attention there.

  “Around Cameron,” Clyde replied. “We work cattle for people.”

  Kid placed the beers in front of them, but the conversation didn’t stop.

  “Ain’t much money in that,” Luther remarked, taking a swig from the bottle.

  “We get by.”

  Frank slid in beside Luther. “Did y’all hear that rustlers took three of Judd Calhoun’s prized cows?”

  “You shitting me.” Clearly Luther hadn’t heard.

  “Who’s Judd Calhoun?” Clyde asked.

  “Owner of the Southern Cross ranch, a big spread,” Luther told him.

  “Is rustling big around here?” Kid joined the conversation.

  “It has been lately.” Frank motioned for a beer and Bubba served him. “But they’d been targeting small places until last night. Hitting the Southern Cross was a bold move.”

  “Only an idiot would make that kind of mistake.” Kid leaned on the counter, talking as if they were good friends.

  “Are you sure you’re not involved, Hardin?” Luther tipped up his bottle.

  “Like I got time to rustle cattle. And this is High Cotton. What happened to our sleepy little town?”

  “It’s the economy,” Frank said. “Everybody needs money. I was down at the general store picking up barbed wire and Nell said a special ranger for the Texas and Southwestern Cattle Raisers Association is here talking to Judd. Things will get lively now. Cops will be all over the place.”

  Lucky pretended to wipe the counter, listening with both ears, but there were people chattering in the background and it was hard to hear everything.

  “Boys, I’ve enjoyed talking to you, but the big city awaits.” Kid pushed away from the counter. “Bubba Joe, give the guys another round on me.”

  “You’re a pretty decent guy.” Melvin reached for a bottle. “But don’t mess with us again.”

  Kid nodded and walked toward Lucky, stopping at her side. “I’m going to find out what you’re up to,” he whispered. His breath fanned her cheek and her knees wobbled. Damn him!

  Weaving his way through the crowd, he left with a smug expression on his face.

  Now she knew what he was doing here—screwing up her life.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  KID DROVE TO AUNT ETTA’S and ate supper. Afterward, he and Uncle Ru watched a rodeo on TV. Soon Ru fell asleep, snoring in his chair. His aunt dozed on and off.

  He got up and whispered, “Aunt Etta, I’m leaving, but I’ll be back later.”

  “Oh.” She blinked. “The door will be open.”

  He went back to The Beer Joint, but he didn’t go in. He watched and waited, wanting to make sure Lucky was okay. When the patrons started coming out, he parked in a ditch. The cowboys left along with the others. Still, he didn’t move until he saw Lucky and Bubba Joe come through the door. He followed from a distance until she turned down the Littlefield lane.

  On his way from Houston, he’d thought about what Cadde had said. If he didn’t care about Lucky, Kid needed to get out of her life. If he did…that was the stumbling block. He wasn’t sure what he felt. He only knew she was into something dangerous and he had to keep her safe. He hadn’t been there for her years ago, but he would be there for her now.

  He planned to win her over with kindness, but once he saw the black Dodge outside The Joint he knew that wasn’t going to work. No way was he walking away and leaving her to face those yahoos. And to top off the evening, Luther had walked in. Nothing had gone his way. With a lot of kissing unbelievably ugly butts, he’d finagled himself out of a touchy situation.

  All while Lucky was glaring at him.

  He’d picked up on something, though. Lucky was interested in the two-bit cowboys for some reason. On the nights he’d been watching her, Bubba Joe always left with her. That meant she had to have asked Bubba to leave the night the cowboys waited for her. She’d wanted to talk to them. Why? That boggled his mind.

  And then there was cattle rustling. Somehow he felt it was all tied together. But what did Lucky have to do with stealing cattle in the middle of the night? It didn’t make sense.

  He turned off his lights and drove into the Littlefield lane. He stopped the truck halfway to the house. Parking on the road wasn’t a good idea. Due to the rustling, the sheriff, the constable and the ranger were checking all roads he was sure, and he didn’t want Lucky to know he was here.

  Opening the console, he pulled out a baseball. On it was written Hardin with a Magic Marker. He’d bought it in Houston earlier. He slipped out of the truck quickly, trying to minimize the brightness of the interior light. The night was warm and peaceful as he strolled toward the cemetery. A cow bellowed in the distance, crickets chirped, leaves rustled—all normal country sounds.

  The house was in darkness as he made his way to the chain-link fence. Once inside, he knelt by his son’s grave.

  “Hey, buddy, it’s your dad.” The moment he said the words he had to gulp a breath. He was a father and with that came responsibility. It didn’t matter that the baby had died. It mattered that he had been conceived—in love. It mattered that Kid had to shoulder the responsibility of his death, as the thirty-nine-year-old man he was.

  A coyote howled close by and the eerie call settled in him. He sank back on his boots. “I was going to put this baseball in the basket your mom has on your grave. It has Hardin on it. That’s who you are.” He twisted the ball in his hand. “But I can’t do it now because it would upset her and that’s a humbling thought for a man my age. Most of my life I’ve been carefree, fun-loving, the life of the party. I never knew about you and that’s the most humbling experience of all. I’m not sure what kind of father I would have been at eighteen, but I would have loved you.” He took a breath. “I love you now and when your mom says it’s okay, I’ll put the baseball in the basket. Bye, son.”

  As he walked away he thought this was a hell of a way to grow up. But if he’d learned anything from the past few days he knew Kid Hardin had finally achieved adulthood—the hard way.

  WHEN HE WOKE UP, HIS AUNT and uncle were gone for the day. He made coffee and then showered and dressed. As he was pouring his second cup, Aunt Etta rushed through the door.

  “I brought your breakfast.” She placed a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon and two biscuits on the table. “It’s hot, so eat.”

  “You don’t have to wait on me,” he told her. “I’ve been on my own for a long time and managed to survive.”

  “God only knows what you’ve been eating.”

  He shrugged. “Mostly doughnuts, sweet rolls and sometimes nothing. Just coffee.
That’s the good thing about being an adult. I get to do what I want.”

  “Now that’s a mouthful.”

  “I guess I should be eating healthy, huh?”

  “Yes, and always a good breakfast. That gets you started for the day. Now I have to run. Sky is helping Coop today and I’m watching the kids.”

  His aunt was in her seventies and worked all the time. “Do you ever think about retiring?”

  “Retiring?” Her eyes opened wide. “When they put me in a coffin.”

  He leaned against the cabinet, drinking his coffee. “Wouldn’t you like to go somewhere? Take a vacation? I’ll pay for everything.”

  “Ru and I were born and raised here. This is our life and my heart is full since Cadde and Chance moved home. I wouldn’t be happy anywhere else even for a week.”

  “But I want to do something for you.”

  She shoved her hands into the pockets of her apron. “Then find some peace within yourself. That’s what you can do for me.”

  He grimaced. “It would be easier to send you to the Grand Canyon or somewhere.”

  She shook her head, those patient eyes looking all the way into his soul. She knew him better than anyone and he could tell her anything.

  “I…I…” He told her what he tried to do last night. “I couldn’t, though. Something held me back.”

  “Conscience?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Talk to Lucky and get all of this bad stuff out of your system so you can see the future—with or without Lucky. Don’t just charm your way into her heart. Let it happen naturally.”

  He pulled out a chair and sat at the table. “I’m working on it.”

  “See you tonight.”

  “Oh, Aunt Etta.” He stopped her at the door. “I’ll be in and out so don’t wait up for me.” He just needed a place to sleep and that made him think about the beds. “How about if I buy a new bedroom set for our old room?”

  “There’s one in the attic that Dane and the cowboys took out. I rather like the room the way it is. It reminds Ru and me of when you boys were here fighting over the bathroom, who gets the first pancake and what TV show to watch.”

  “Okay. Nothing new.” That old mattress was about to kill him, though. Aunt Etta liked it so he wasn’t changing a thing. He could sleep at his brother’s, but that was honeymoon central and he didn’t want to invade their privacy.

  After breakfast, he thought he’d try and talk to Lucky. As he passed the general store he saw her truck and turned around. He wanted to set a time for when they could talk. Showing up uninvited was like the old Kid. There were rules of conduct and they were meant for him, too.

  As he slid from his truck, Mrs. Farley and Mrs. Axelwood came out the door.

  “Good morning, ladies.” He tipped his hat.

  “Cisco, how nice to see you.” Mrs. Farley shook his hand, as did the other woman. “And it’s so wonderful to have your brothers back in High Cotton.”

  “Yeah, they’re married and settled. Me, I’m still a bachelor.”

  “You just haven’t met the right woman.”

  “I have a niece…” Mrs. Axelwood spoke up.

  He held up his hands. “Thanks, but no setups.” And to steer the conversation in another direction, he added, “It was great seeing ol’ Luther the other night.”

  “Where did you see Luther?”

  “At The Beer Joint.”

  Mrs. Farley bristled. “I beg your pardon. My son does not frequent that place.”

  “Now, I know it was Luther.”

  “You’re mistaken.” At that moment Lucky walked out of the store. “It’s the devil’s workshop—” Mrs. Farley glanced at Lucky “—and the people who work there are the devil’s helpers.”

  “Well, then, Luther must be on first name basis with the evil-doer himself because he was there.”

  “Let’s go, Gladys,” she snapped and they hurried to a tan Buick.

  “Tell Luther I said hi,” he called after them, running to catch Lucky before she drove off.

  Her window was down so he was able to talk without yelling. “Could we talk, please?”

  “No.” She started the motor.

  “Come on, Lucky. A few minutes, that’s all I’m asking.”

  Her blue eyes stared straight at him. “I do not need your protection so stop butting into my life. I can handle those old bats any day of the week. I’m used to it.”

  “You shouldn’t have to be.”

  She sighed and he wanted to run his hand over the back of her neck to comfort her. He curled his hands into fists to keep from doing so.

  “I’m going home and I’ll give you fifteen minutes to say what’s on your mind. Not one minute more.”

  “Thank you.”

  “And please stop saying ‘come on, Lucky.’ It just annoys me now.”

  “Okay.” It used to make her smile, a poignant reminder of the past.

  She backed out and drove away.

  He had a short amount of time to cram a lifetime of forgive-my-sins into. But as he thought about it he decided to do the exact opposite of what she was expecting.

  LUCKY HURRIED THROUGH the front door, threw her purse on the sofa and carried a carton of milk to the refrigerator.

  Her father was sitting in front of the TV. When The Price Is Right was on, an elephant could walk through the house and he wouldn’t notice.

  “Dad, Kid’s coming over.”

  He didn’t answer. She put glasses and cups into the dishwasher and waited for a commercial. When it came on, she shouted to him again. “Dad, Kid’s coming over.”

  “What the hell for?”

  She’d made a connection. “He wants to talk.”

  “So? People in hell want ice water. You don’t see me shoveling it out.”

  “Dad…”

  There was a knock at the door and she went to let Kid in. He smiled that cocky grin and her stomach fluttered just like it used to. But now she was immune to his charm. Almost.

  “Hey, Bud,” he said, removing his hat. She noticed he had some papers in his hand.

  “You got a Magic Marker in your pocket?”

  “No.”

  “Good. You’re not writing on any of my walls.” Her dad tried to look around Kid to the TV. “Move. You’re blocking my view.”

  “Oh.” Kid immediately took two steps sideways.

  “We can talk in the kitchen,” she said, and he followed her to the table, hooking his hat on a chair.

  Ollie sniffed it.

  “No,” she scolded and Ollie trotted back to his spot.

  Kid eased into a chair. “How is Bud getting The Price Is Right on a Sunday?”

  “I taped a lot of the shows when he was in the hospital and when there’s nothing else on, he watches them.”

  “Oh. Aunt Etta watches it, too.”

  “Are you going to waste your fifteen minutes talking about a TV show?”

  “No.” He pushed the papers toward her. “I’d like to talk about leasing your land to Shilah Oil.”

  That shocked her. She’d thought he’d gotten the message the first time. And she had braced herself for a battle over the headstone. She had to completely readjust her thinking. Was that what he’d intended? To befuddle her?

  She shoved the document back to him. “The answer is still no.”

  “Read it,” he insisted. “Check the signing bonus, the royalty rate. It’s top dollar and no one is going to beat it.”

  “I’m not interested.”

  He stood with a long sigh. “Don’t do this to get back at me. This could be very good for you.”

  She lifted an eyebrow. “And get me out of The Beer Joint?”

  “Well, yeah.”

  She got to her feet and then wished she hadn’t. He was a little too close for her comfort zone. A musky sandalwood scent reached her and she bit her lip to keep her emotion on a leash.

  “I do not need your help. I’m doing fine on my own. I only have one problem—your unwelcomed intrus
ion into my life.”

  “Okay, things got out of hand with the cowboys, but there’s something going on…”

  “Nothing’s going on that concerns you, and what were you doing buying them drinks last night?”

  “You’re into something dangerous and it involves those cowboys. I’m going to keep kissing their ugly butts until I find out what it is. I didn’t count on ol’ Luther coming in when he did so I had to keep up the farce. If I’m good at anything, it’s talking my way out of sticky situations.”

  “Yeah, I know that better than anyone, but I just don’t understand how you feel this is any of your business.”

  “I wasn’t there for you years ago, but I will be here for you now.”

  She sighed. “Why is that so important to you? Your intrusion into my life is only making me angry.”

  He shrugged. “Sorry. I wasn’t able to do anything for our son, but I will keep his mother safe.”

  Her nerves stretched taut at his mind-boggling attitude. She thought quickly and knew of a way to get him out of her affairs. If she didn’t, he was going to jeopardize the whole case. “I’ll sign these papers if you’ll promise to go back to Houston and get out of my life.”

  He rubbed his jaw and she wanted to reach out and touch his roughened cheek. She had to restrain herself from doing so. “Nah, that’s a no go. I have family here and High Cotton is my home.”

  “But you don’t have to see me. You don’t have to come to my house.”

  His eyes narrowed. “My son is buried here and I plan to visit his grave a lot, with your permission, of course.”

  She closed her eyes and wanted to pull out her hair. She was getting nowhere with him. “Please leave.”

  “You’ve said that so many times I’m beginning to believe you don’t like me anymore.”

  She gritted her teeth. “Goodbye, Kid, and take the lease with you.”

  “No.” He waved a hand toward the papers. “Read it. Talk about it with Bud. My number is on the attached card. You can call me at any time.”

  Don’t hold your breath, she wanted to say, but decided not to let him get to her. She followed him to the front door and was surprised her dad didn’t add a few scathing words, but he was too interested in the TV.