His Texas Runaway

“You never know what time it is, Chandler. It’s late. They’ve retired for the night,” Maureen answered. Then she explained to Roslyn, “My oldest son and his family stay on the third floor. They don’t want the twins crying to disturb the rest of us.”

“Hah! That’s just an excuse to get away from all the noise we make down here,” Chandler said jokingly, then tossed another question at his mother. “If it’s so late, what’s Reeva still doing in the kitchen?”

“Tessa and Joe and Little Joe came over for dinner, so Reeva made several extra dishes. I couldn’t help her with the cleaning up because Holt called me down to the foaling barn.” She glanced over at their houseguest. “Just a regular night on the ranch, Roslyn. Around here, you never know what’s going to happen next.”

On the second floor, they walked halfway down a wide passageway to a partially open door and entered a bedroom decorated in reds and browns and furnished with a queen-size bed and a large chest made of knotty pine.

Chandler said, “If the room looks masculine, Roslyn, that’s because this used to be Holt’s room. He moved downstairs a few years ago.”

“During foaling season Holt is called out at all hours of the night,” Maureen explained. “And as our resident vet, Chandler usually has to go with him.”

“But even when it’s not foaling season, Holt is coming home at all hours of the night,” Chandler added with a sly chuckle.

Maureen let out a good-natured groan. “Chandler, our guest doesn’t want to hear about the playboy of the family.”

“No,” he agreed. “She needs for us to get out of here and let her rest.” He placed Roslyn’s bag on the end of the bed.

His mother gestured toward a door in the far left corner of the room. “There’s a private bath there with a shower. You should find plenty of towels and things. And if you get chilled in the night you’ll find extra blankets in the closet. Now with that settled, are you hungry?”

“Thank you. I’m fine. Dr. Hollister gave me a chicken leg and a carton of yogurt.”

Maureen rolled her eyes. “First of all, he’s not Dr. Hollister around here. You’d better call him Chandler, or Doc, or Bones, or something like that, so we’ll know who you mean. And secondly, a chicken leg and a bit of yogurt does not qualify as a meal. Especially when you’re eating for a little one, too. I’ll bring you some of the leftovers from dinner.”

Chandler gave Roslyn a wink. “You probably ought to listen to her. She’s had six of us.”

“I’m not an expert on carrying babies, but by the time Camille was born, I felt darn close to it,” Maureen said with a chuckle, then reached for Chandler’s arm. “Come on. Let’s leave Roslyn alone so she can get comfortable and ready for bed.

She tugged Chandler out the door and didn’t let loose of his arm until they’d reached the landing at the bottom of the stairs.

Deliberately lowering her voice, she said, “Okay. What’s going on? You’ve brought home plenty of things over the years, Chandler, but never anything like this!”

He glanced up the stairs just to make sure Roslyn hadn’t followed and could hear them discussing her. “Well, it’s pretty simple, Mom. When Trey and I returned to the clinic tonight, Roslyn’s car was parked near the front of the building. Seems she’d gotten dizzy and pulled off the highway. I found her sitting inside the vehicle. She was a bit disoriented and while I was trying to question her, she fainted. As best as I could tell from dehydration and exhaustion.”

“But where is she from? Who is she? Anyone you know?”

He shook his head. “She’s from Fort Worth and apparently driving herself to California.”

“The poor little thing,” Maureen murmured with empathy. “No one was with her? Where’s her husband?”

He grimaced. “She doesn’t have one. And from what she tells me, she isn’t going to have one. I think the baby’s father turned out to be...uh, not the good guy she thought him to be.”

“Oh. That’s just awful.”

“Well, I apologize for springing a guest on you this way, Mom, but I hated to think of her at a motel.”

She released the grip on his arm and gently patted his shoulder. “No need for an apology, son. This is your home, too. Besides, you did the right thing. Roslyn might not even have the extra money for a motel room.”

The two of them moved away from the landing and started toward the kitchen. As they walked together, Chandler said, “Wrong, Mom. Roslyn appears to be wealthy. She’s driving a Jaguar and did you notice her clothing? I’m sure the pieces will have fancy labels inside.”

“Hmm. I didn’t notice her clothing,” she admitted. “Did you ask her why she’s traveling west?”

“No. It’s none of my business. But from everything she’s said, she’s not going back to Texas. I’m guessing she’s trying to get away from something or someone. Kinda like our Camille. In any case, I didn’t think it would hurt to help her out for a night.”

“Or two?” Maureen suggested slyly. “For the baby’s sake.”

Chandler glanced skeptically at his mother. “I don’t believe she’ll stick around for a second night. Unless you can persuade her—for the baby’s sake.”

Maureen gave him a clever smile. “All right, son. I’ll give it a try.”

He leaned over and pecked a kiss at the end of her eyebrow. “Thanks, Mom.”

She didn’t respond and by the time they reached the end of the hallway, Chandler was shocked to see a tear trickling down her cheek. Maureen Hollister never cried or rarely showed an emotional crack in her tough, ranch-woman armor.

Before she could shoulder her way through the swinging doors leading into the kitchen, he caught her by the arm. “Mom, I see a tear in your eye! What in the world is wrong?”

She blinked. “Nothing is wrong. I was just thinking.” Smiling wanly, she cupped her hand against the side of his face. “Have I ever told you just how much you remind me of Joel?”

A tight knot of grief twisted in the middle of Chandler’s chest. “Oh, Mom, don’t compare me to Dad. It isn’t fair. I could never be the man that he was.”

“Not exactly. But you are like him in so many ways. And that’s a comfort to me, Chandler. Always remember that,” she said gently, then her mood instantly brightened and, smiling, she urged him through the swinging doors. “Let’s see what Reeva has left for you in the warming drawer. You might have to share it with your little Texas stray.”

She was a stray all right, Chandler thought. But she didn’t belong to him. Like any other stray he’d picked up in the past, he could afford to offer her food and a temporary home. But he wasn’t about to risk offering her a piece of his heart.

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