Heart of Texas Vol. 3: Caroline's Child

The waiter, a kid of maybe eighteen, delivered a plate heaped with rice and chicken and covered with a thin tomato sauce and melted cheese. “Could you give me directions to the closest motel?” Travis asked him.

“Brewster’s got a motel.”

“Great.” Travis reached for his fork. “How far away is that?”

“About a hundred miles.”

He laid his fork back down. “You mean to say a town the size of Promise doesn’t have a motel?”

“We’ve got a bed-and-breakfast.”

“Fine.” A bed was a bed, and at this point he wasn’t picky.

The waiter lingered. “You might have trouble getting a room, ’cause of the big festivities this weekend.”

“Festivities?”

“The rodeo’s coming, and then there’s the big chili cook-off. I thought that was why you were here.”

Apparently the town was small enough to recognize him as a stranger. “Where do the rodeo cowboys stay while they’re in town?”

The youth stared at him as if the answer should be obvious. “Motor homes.”

“All of them?”

“Unless they got family close by.”

“I see,” Travis murmured. He hadn’t considered that there wouldn’t be a motel—but then that was one of his problems, according to Valerie. He didn’t think ahead.

“If you’d like, I could write you out directions to the Pattersons’ B and B.”

“Please.” Famished, Travis dug into his meal, devouring it in minutes. He’d no sooner finished when the waiter returned with a hand-drawn map listing streets and landmarks. Apparently the one and only bed-and-breakfast was off the beaten path.

Thunder cracked in the sky, followed by flashes of lightning. No one seemed to pay much heed to the storm until the lights flickered. Everyone in the restaurant paused and waited, then sighed with relief when the lights stayed on.

The storm was bad, but he’d seen worse off the New England coastline five years before. Holed up in a rented cottage in order to meet a deadline, Travis had watched storms rage as he fought his own battles. It’d been shortly after the divorce.

He thought of that sassy ranch woman who’d spoken to him today and wondered what she’d say if she knew he’d stood on a rocky bluff overlooking the sea, with the wind and rain pounding against him, and openly defied nature.

Remembering the way she’d leaped out of her truck, eyes flashing with outrage, brought a rare smile to his lips.

She’d been an attractive woman. Practically as tall as he was and full-sized, not some pencil-thin model. A spitfire, too. Definitely one of a kind. Briefly he wondered if he’d get a chance to see her again and rather hoped he would, just so he could tell her he’d managed to survive the storm.

Following the directions given him by the waiter at the Mexican Lindo, Travis drove to Pattersons’ Bed-and-Breakfast, which turned out to be a large older home. He rang the doorbell.

Almost immediately a tall, gray-haired, lanky man opened the door and invited him inside. “Welcome to Promise.” The man extended his hand and introduced himself as Phil Patterson.

“Travis Grant. Do you have a room for a few nights?” he asked, getting directly to the point.

“Sorry,” Phil told him. “We’re booked solid.”

Travis had left New York early that morning and didn’t relish the thought of traveling another hundred miles through a storm to find a bed for the night. “I’m tired and not difficult to please. Isn’t there any place that could put me up for a few nights?”

Phil frowned. “The rodeo’s coming to town.”

“So I understand.”

“I doubt there’s a room available in Brewster, either.”

Travis muttered a curse under his breath.

“Phil.” A woman’s voice called out from the kitchen. “You might try Nell.”

“Nell?”

“Nell Bishop.”

Phil sighed. “I know who Nell is.”

“She’s opening her dude ranch in a couple of months, so she’s probably got rooms to rent.”

Phil’s face relaxed. “Of course, that’s a great idea.”

Travis’s spirits lifted.

“I’ll give her a call.” Phil reached for the phone, punched in the number and waited. After a minute or two he covered the receiver. “Nell’s busy, but her mother-in-law’s there and she said you’d be welcome to drive out, but she feels obliged to warn you there’s no electricity at the moment.”

“They have a bed and clean sheets?”

“Sure thing, and Ruth—that’s her name—said she’d throw in breakfast, as well.”

He named a price that sounded more than reasonable to Travis. “Sold.”

Phil relayed the information, drew him a map, and soon Travis was back on the road.

Patterson had told him that the ranch was a fair distance out of town; still, by the time Travis pulled off the highway and onto the gravel drive that led to Twin Canyons Ranch, he suspected he was closer to Brewster than Promise. Approaching the front door, he felt as though his butt was dragging as low to the ground as his suitcase.

A kid who looked to be about twelve answered his knock and stared blankly at him while Travis stood in the rain.

“Hello,” Travis finally said.

“Hello,” the boy answered. A girl two or three years younger joined him. Good-looking children, but apparently not all that bright.

“Most people come to the back door unless they’re selling something, and if you are, we’re not buying.”

Despite feeling tired and cranky, Travis grinned. “I’m here about a room.”

The two kids exchanged glances.

“Who is it?” He heard an older woman’s voice in the background; a moment later, she appeared at the door. “For the love of heaven, young man, come out of the rain.” She nudged the children aside and held open the door.

He stood in the hallway, which was all gloom and shadows except for the light flickering from a cluster of candles. Travis glanced around, but it was impossible to see much.

“Mom’s in the barn,” the boy said.

“I know that,” the older woman told him. She put the candle close to Travis’s face. “You look decent enough.”

“I haven’t eaten any children in at least a week,” he teased, eyeing the two kids. The little girl moved a step closer to her brother.

“I’m Travis Grant,” he said, turning his attention to the woman.

“Ruth Bishop, and these two youngsters are my grandchildren, Jeremy and Emma.”

“Pleased to meet you.” He shifted the suitcase in his hand, hoping Ruth would take the hint and escort him to his room. She didn’t. “About the room…” he said pointedly.

“You’ll need to meet Nell first.”

“All right.” He was eager to get the introductions over with so he could fall into bed and sleep for the next twelve hours straight.

“This way.” She led him through the house to the back porch, where she pulled on a hooded jacket. Then she walked down the back steps and into the rain, holding her hand over the candle to shield the small flame.

Travis wasn’t enthusiastic about clumping through the storm yet again, but didn’t have much choice.

“Ruth?” a new voice called into the night. A low pleasant voice.

“Coming,” the grandmother answered.

They met halfway across the yard in the pouring rain. “I got us our first paying guest,” Ruth announced, beaming proudly. “Travis Grant, meet my daughter-in-law, Nell Bishop.”

It took Travis no more than a second to recognize Nell as the woman who’d called him an idiot.

He liked her already.

CHAPTER 2

NELL LOCATED AN OLD-FASHIONED lantern for Travis Grant. It had probably been in the family for fifty years and was nothing if not authentic. Next she gathered together fresh sun-dried sheets, a couple of blankets and a pillow. She tucked everything inside a plastic bag and raced through the storm, holding the lit lantern with one hand. When she arrived at the bunkhouse, Nell discovered Travis sitting on the end of a bed, looking tired and out of sorts.

The initial group of tourists was scheduled to show up the first week of May, and almost everything in the bunkhouse had been readied. It was primitive, but then this was the real thing. A genuine ranch, complete with enough cattle to give would-be cowboys the experience of dealing with a herd, horses for them to ride and plenty of land. Nell was as determined as Curly in the movie City Slickers to make real wranglers out of her guests. It was what they were paying her big bucks to do, and she firmly believed in giving them their money’s worth.

“Thanks,” Travis said when he saw her. He stood up to remove the bag from her arms, and she placed the lantern on a small wooden dresser opposite the bed.

“I realize this isn’t the Ritz,” she said as she spread the crisp sheet across the thin mattress.

“Hey, beggars can’t be choosers,” her guest reminded her. “I’m grateful you’re willing to take me in at all.”

Actually no one had thought to ask her. It was her mother-in-law who’d agreed to put him up for the night when Phil Patterson phoned. But to be fair, Nell suspected she would have agreed herself.

“With the rodeo coming, the Pattersons didn’t have any vacancies,” he explained unnecessarily, leaning over to help her with the top sheet and blanket.

The lantern actually gave a fair amount of light, much to Nell’s chagrin. She chose to pretend she didn’t recognize him. And either he was too tired to remember the way she’d harangued him at the side of the road or he’d decided to forget. Whatever the case, she was grateful.

“Does the Texas hill country generally get storms like this?”

“This one’s worse than some,” she told him, lifting the edge of the mattress to tuck in the covers. Given his size, she wondered if the bunk would be big enough for him. Well, there was no help for it, since this bed—or another exactly like it—was the only one available.

“What about losing your electricity?”

“Happens now and then,” she said, not looking at him. She reached for the pillow and stuffed it inside the case, then plumping it up, set it at the head of the bed. “Is there anything else I can get you?” she asked, ready to return to her family.

“Nothing. I appreciate your putting me up,” he said again.

“No problem.”

“Mom.” Breathless, Jeremy burst into the bunkhouse, his face bright. He carried a blue-speckled tin coffeepot in one hand and a matching cup in the other. Emma followed with a covered plate.

“Grandma sent us over with hot chocolate and—”

“—one of Mom’s cinnamon rolls,” Emma finished for her brother. Travis could see a black-and-white dog waiting patiently at the door.

He took the pot and cup from Jeremy and set them on the nightstand. “Hey, no one said anything about room service. How’d I get so lucky?”

Emma handed him the plate. “My mom’s the best cook in the world.”

Nell grinned and put an arm around each of her children. “Now probably isn’t the time to mention we roasted hot dogs in the fireplace for dinner.”

“Are you staying for the chili cook-off?” Emma asked their guest.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Travis sat on the side of the bed and poured himself a mug of steaming cocoa.

Nell wasn’t sure how Ruth had managed to heat the cocoa—the fireplace, she supposed—but was pleased her mother-in-law had made the effort.

“Mom’s going to win. Her chili’s the best.”

“Emma’s opinion might be a little biased,” Nell said, steering the two children toward the door. “Let us know if you need anything.”

“I will. Good night,” Travis said as they left to go back to the house.

Nell turned and smiled when she saw that he’d already started on the cinnamon roll with the appreciation of a man who rarely tasted anything homemade.

The children ran across the yard ahead of her. Lucky, their border-collie mix, followed at their heels. Ruth waited for Nell in the kitchen, holding the candle and looking inordinately pleased with herself.

“Travis Grant seems like a nice young man,” she said the moment Nell entered the kitchen.

“He’s from New York City,” Nell said, wanting it understood right then and there that he was a big-city boy and only drifting through Promise. It just so happened that he’d ventured into a strange town and needed a place to sleep; there’d be plenty of guests just like him in the months to come.

“We have a big day tomorrow,” Nell said. “It wouldn’t hurt any of us to get to bed early for once.”

As she’d expected, her children put up token protests, but they didn’t argue long. Both were tired and, without electricity, there was little to entertain them. The lights probably wouldn’t be coming on soon, especially with the rain and the wind still so intense.

“Did our guest mention what he’s doing in Promise?” Ruth asked. She held her hand protectively in front of the flame of the candle she carried and led the way across the living room.

Nell wondered, too. “He didn’t say.”

“You could’ve asked.”

“Well, I didn’t. That’s his business, not mine.”

“Weren’t you curious?”

“A little.” A lot actually, but Nell wasn’t willing to admit it.

“He’s probably here for the rodeo,” Jeremy suggested, heading up the stairs, Lucky at his side.

“Maybe, but I don’t think so.” Nell wasn’t sure why she thought that, but she did. Her guess was that when morning came Travis Grant would pack up his bags and leave.

“He reminds me of someone,” Emma said and yawned.

“Me, too,” Jeremy murmured.

Jake. Nell had seen it, too, not in looks but in build. Travis Grant was a lumberjack of a man, just the way her beloved Jake had been. Sadly the children’s memories of their father had dimmed with time into vague recollections.

The family stood at the landing at the top of the stairs, where they exchanged good-night hugs and kisses. Even Jeremy let his mother and grandma kiss him tonight. Ruth guided the children to their bedrooms while Nell retrieved a candle for herself.

Once everyone was in bed, she undressed and put on a full-length white cotton nightgown. She unbraided her hair and brushed it out, the thick dark tresses reaching halfway down her back. Jake had loved her hair, had often gathered it in his huge hands and run it through his fingers. Nell missed those moments, missed everything about Jake.

Time, she’d discovered, was a great healer, just as Pastor McMillen had told her. The grief became duller, less acute, with every month and year that passed. But it was still there, always there. Now, though, her grief shared space with all the good memories, the happy moments they’d had together.

Nothing would ever erase those ten wonderful years she’d shared with the man she loved.

Setting her hairbrush aside, Nell pulled back the covers and climbed into bed. She leaned against the headboard, her back supported by two pillows, and opened the drawer in her nightstand. She took out a pen and her journal.

By the light of a single candle, she wrote down the events of the day, pausing now and then to collect her thoughts. When she’d finished, she reread what she’d written, something she rarely did, and was surprised to note she’d mentioned Travis Grant in the first line. It didn’t take her long to figure out why.

It was because he was like Jake and meeting him had shaken her. Not the first time on the road into town, when she’d stopped and read him the riot act, but later. It hadn’t hit her until they stood across from each other to make the bed. He was the same height as Jake.

Nell reached for the framed photograph of Jake taken on their wedding day. It was a rare shot of him without his Stetson. Fresh from the military, his hair had been cropped close. He looked strong, capable—and oddly vulnerable.

Her heart clenched as it always did when she studied the photograph, but the usual tears didn’t come.

“Good night, my love,” she whispered and placed the photograph back on her nightstand. As she did, Nell saw a light come on outside the window. Tossing the blankets aside, she peered out and noticed a bright even glow coming from the bunkhouse. The electricity was back on.

“I DON’T KNOW HOW MUCH LONGER this is going to take,” Laredo Smith said as he reappeared to give another update on Savannah’s progress. He’d practically worn grooves in the carpet from the bedroom to the living room where the men had gathered. Rain continued to beat against the window and there were occasional flashes of lightning, although the storm had begun to let up.

Grady smiled indulgently at his brother-in-law, grateful that the electricity was back on. “Babies take as long as they take,” he said wisely. He reclined in the leather chair and laced his fingers behind his head, rather pleased with his insight.

“That’s easy for you to say,” Laredo snapped in a rare display of temper. “It’s not your wife in there giving birth to your child. Let’s see how calm you are when Caroline delivers.”

The grin faded from Grady’s face. Laredo had a point.

“Birthing babies is a whole lot different from bringing calves into the world,” Cal said. Grady’s best friend leaned forward and rested his arms on his knees, then glanced at his watch.

Grady was surprised when he checked the time. It was already past midnight, and it could be hours more before Savannah’s baby was born. Not one of the assembled group showed any sign of being tired, much less leaving. Caroline and Jane were with Savannah, and his daughter was in bed upstairs. Six-year-old Maggie had tried to stay awake but fell asleep in his arms around ten.

Laredo had been with Savannah from the first but returned to the living room periodically to make his reports. Grady watched his brother-in-law with interest. Laredo was so pale he looked in danger of passing out.

“I had no idea it would be like this,” Laredo mumbled, ramming all ten fingers through his hair.

“That it’d take this long?” Grady asked.

Laredo vigorously shook his head. “No—that I’d feel this scared, this nervous. Savannah and I must’ve read ten books about pregnancy and birth, and I thought I was ready. Hell, man, I’ve been around horses and cattle all my life, but this is nothing like I expected.”

Those books were the very ones Grady and Caroline were reading now. His wife was two months pregnant. Grady had been walking on air from the moment she’d told him. He’d thought about the baby a lot, his excitement building as he watched his own sister’s pregnancy progress. He and Caroline had told only a few people, since she was months from showing.

To Grady, his wife had never looked more beautiful. Maggie was pleased and excited at the prospect of becoming a big sister. What Grady hadn’t considered was this strange emotion Laredo exhibited.

Fear.

He hadn’t thought of his child’s birth as a frightening event. He’d imagined himself a proud father, holding his infant son or daughter. He enjoyed the prospect of people making a fuss and giving their opinions on which parent the baby resembled. Friends would come to visit and it would be a time of celebration and joy.

But tonight Laredo had destroyed his illusions. In his imaginings, Grady had glossed over the actual birth. Until now. Beyond any doubt, he knew that when it was Caroline’s time to deliver their child, he’d be as bad as Laredo. Pacing, worrying, wondering. Praying.

“I’m going back in there,” Laredo announced as though he couldn’t bear to be away from Savannah a moment longer.

Grady stood, slapped his friend on the back to encourage him, then sank into his seat again.

“We’re going to be just like him, you know,” Cal said.

Grady nodded in agreement. “Worse, probably.”

Cal grinned. “When’s Caroline due?”

“The end of October.”

“You two certainly didn’t waste any time, did you?” Cal teased.

“Nope.” Their wedding had been the last week of October, and Caroline was pregnant by the first week of January. They’d hoped it would happen quickly, seeing as Grady was already well into his thirties and Maggie was going on seven. It made sense to start their family early.

As the wind howled, Cal looked out the window. “Why is it babies are always born during a storm?”

“It probably has something to do with barometric pressure.”

Cal scratched his head. “You think so?”

The hell if Grady knew, but it sounded good. The phone pealed in the kitchen and the two men stared at each other.

“It’s probably Glen and Ellie again,” Cal said.

Cal’s brother and his wife lived in town and would have been with them, Grady suspected, if not for the storm.

Grady answered the phone. “Nothing yet,” he said, instead of his usual greeting.

“Why didn’t anyone phone me?” Dovie Boyd Hennessey demanded. Dovie and Savannah had been close since the death of Savannah’s mother, Barbara, seven years earlier. Dovie owned and operated the antique shop, which sold everything from old scarves and jewelry to valuable china cups and saucers, all arranged around antique furnishings. The women in town loved to shop at Dovie’s; she was universally admired and treasured by the town.

“Savannah’s in labor and I only now find out,” Dovie said as though she’d missed the social event of the year.

“Who told you?” Grady asked. The women in Promise had a communication system the CIA could envy.

“Frank, naturally,” Dovie told him. “I guess he talked to Laredo earlier this evening. He just got home.” She paused for breath. “Has the baby come yet?”

“Nope, and according to Jane it could be hours before the blessed event.”

“How’s Savannah?”

“Better than Laredo,” Grady said.

Dovie’s soft laugh drifted over the line. “Give her my love?”

“Of course.”

“And call me the minute you hear, understand? I don’t care what time of day or night it is.”

“You got it,” he said on the tail end of a yawn.

“Don’t let me down, Grady.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he assured her.

By the time he returned to the living room, Cal had picked up a magazine and was flipping through the pages.

“You read that one an hour ago,” Grady reminded him.

“So I did.”

A few minutes later Caroline came into the room, and Grady leaped to his feet. “Sit down,” he urged his wife. “You look exhausted.” She should have been in bed hours ago, but he knew better than to suggest it. Caroline was as stubborn as they came, but then so was he. They understood each other, and he could appreciate her need to be with her best friend.

“It won’t be long now,” she told him as she slid her arms around his waist. “The baby’s crowned.”

Grady nodded. “Wonderful. How’s Savannah?”

“She’s doing well.”

“And Laredo?”

“He’s holding Savannah’s hand and helping her with her breathing.” Grady sat down, pulling Caroline onto his lap. She pressed her head against his shoulder, and he kissed her temple.

Grady glanced in Cal’s direction and found he’d folded his arms and shut his eyes. Caroline’s eyes were closed, too, and Grady decided to rest his own. Just for a few minutes, he told himself.

An infant’s cry shattered the silence. Grady jerked awake and Caroline jumped to her feet and shook her head. “Oh, my goodness!” she gasped.

Grady hadn’t a clue how long they’d been out. Cal straightened and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.

“The kid’s got one hell of a pair of lungs.”

A few minutes later the bedroom door opened and Laredo emerged, carrying a tiny bundle in his arms. Grady noted that his friend’s eyes were bright and his cheeks tear-streaked.

“We have a daughter,” he said, gazing with awe at the baby he held. “Laura Rose, meet your family,” he whispered to the newborn. “This is your uncle Grady and aunt Caroline.”

“Hey, don’t forget me,” Cal said, stepping over to gaze down at the baby.

“That’s Cal,” Laredo continued. “His wife’s the one who coaxed you into the world.” Laredo gazed at the small group gathered around the baby. “Isn’t she beautiful?” he said. “Doesn’t she look like Savannah?”

Grady studied Laura Rose carefully and decided she looked more like an alien, but he certainly didn’t say so.