All Roads Lead to Texas

“You’re my father.”

“I knew who you were the first moment I saw you. You favor Glynis. She was very beautiful.”

“You knew who I was?” Callie gasped.

“Yep. Been waiting a lot of years to see that face, but when I finally got my chance, I guess I acted like a coward. I couldn’t tell you who I was. Didn’t think you really wanted to know, but I kept coming here just to get a glimpse of you.”

Callie’s hands trembled and tears stung the back of her eyes. “You’re the reason I came to Homestead with the kids. Glynis said you were probably dead, but I had to know for sure.”

“How is Glynis?” her father finally asked.

Obviously Wade wanted Callie to be the one to tell her father the truth. Telling another person could jeopardize their safety, but when Callie looked into her father’s eyes, she knew she could trust him. So she told him their story.

Dear Reader,

Welcome to Homestead, Texas. Never heard of it? Well, you’re in for a treat. This is the third book in a series called HOME TO LOVELESS COUNTY. The books, about a fictional town in the Texas Hill Country, are written by Roxanne Rustand, K.N. Casper, Roz Denny Fox, Lynnette Kent and me. I had a great time brainstorming with these wonderful authors. Please don’t miss any of these exciting stories!

To save the dying town of Homestead, the mayor comes up with a land giveaway program. New residents arrive weekly in search of a new beginning, a new life.

Callie Lambert was born in Homestead, and when she needs a safe hiding place, she returns to her roots as an applicant for the Home Free Program. But Callie is a fugitive. She’s kidnapped her brother and sisters from an abusive stepfather. Now all she has to do is stay hidden until her case can be heard.

To do that she has to avoid the handsome sheriff, Wade Montgomery. But he keeps checking on Callie and the kids, and against her better judgment she’s drawn to the tall, lanky Texan. What will Wade do when he discovers her secret? Turn the page and find out!

I hope you enjoy your visit to Homestead, Texas.

Warmly,

Linda Warren

It’s always a pleasure to hear from readers.

You can e-mail me at [e-mail] or write me at P.O. Box 5182, Bryan, TX 77805 or visit my Web site at www.lindawarren.net or www.superauthors.com. Your letters will be answered.

ALL ROADS LEAD TO TEXAS

Linda Warren

To the other authors of the

HOME TO LOVELESS COUNTY series,

Roxanne Rustand, K.N. Casper, Roz Denny Fox

and Lynnette Kent. It was a privilege and a joy to work

with you, even during those times of panic. Thanks for

making the newbie feel right at home. And to our editors,

Paula Eykelhof, Laura Shin, Kathleen Scheibling and

Victoria Curran, for keeping us focused and on track.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Mitch Siegert, executive chef, thanks for answering all my questions so patiently. Wayne Landry, thanks for sharing your colorful friends with me. Ladies in my aqua therapy group, thanks for your encouragement and support on this book.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER ONE

SHAFTS OF LIGHT pierced the darkness, illuminating a stretch of foggy grayness. Callie Lambert drove on and on, putting miles behind her. Up ahead loomed the unknown, the unfamiliar. Her hands clasped the steering wheel with a death-like grip and her stomach roiled with the enormity of her actions. She was on the run. A fugitive. She’d kidnapped her brother and sisters and could be arrested at any minute.

Those facts kept her focused, cautious and half-crazed with fear. What if she was caught? The kids would be returned to their abusive stepfather. And Callie would go to jail.

She wasn’t worried about herself. It was the kids. She was their big sister and she’d do anything, go through anything, to protect them. But tangible fear throbbed at the back of her mind like a persistent toothache as she waited for the wail of a siren.

Raindrops splattered the windshield and she turned on the wipers. Their hypnotic action calmed her nerves and steadied her resolve. She thought of her mother and anger stirred in her breast. How could Glynis do this to them?

The past swept through her mind with each swish of the wipers. Glynis had left Callie’s father when Callie was barely five and had become a waitress in a hotel restaurant in Houston. She’d struggled to make ends meet. Then Glynis met John Lambert, a wealthy stockbroker, and their lives changed for the better. John was twenty years older than Glynis, but Callie liked him. When Callie was twelve, Glynis married John and they moved from Houston to New York City. John adopted Callie and life was better than she’d ever known.

She was always his oldest child. John never made a distinction between Callie and his own children and she loved him all the more for that. A year ago, he was diagnosed with colon cancer and it was a sad time for all of them. During the last month of his life, he had nurses around the clock, but Glynis only left his bedside to sleep.

After his death, Glynis decided to take a cruise for a much-needed rest and Callie gladly offered to care for her young siblings. It was a shock when Glynis returned home with a brand-new husband, Nigel Tremont, who was twelve years her junior. And it was an even greater shock when Glynis was killed in an auto accident three months later, leaving Nigel as sole guardian of the children and executor of her estate.

Despite the enveloping fog of grief and loss, Callie knew one thing for certain—Nigel was after her mother’s money. He’d somehow convinced Glynis to change her will—whoever had custody of the children had control of the money. But how could she prove it?

Two months ago, Callie received a frantic call from her eleven-year-old half brother, Adam. He, nine-year-old Brittany and six-year-old Mary Beth were scared to death. Mary Beth had wet the bed and woken up crying, wanting Callie. Nigel had hit her with a belt and made her sleep in the soiled bed. When Nigel went to his room, Adam sneaked Mary Beth into his, then he called Callie from the den so Nigel wouldn’t hear. She told him to lock Brit, Mary Beth and himself in the bathroom until she got there.

She met the police at her mother’s home and to her horror, found they could do nothing. They said there was no evidence Nigel was abusing the kids and it was clear that the children needed time to adjust to their mother’s death. The kids were so frightened they wouldn’t say a word.

The police warned Nigel about hitting the children and said a complaint would be filed with Child Protective Services. This was standard procedure. Callie was asked to leave the house. She refused and was forcibly removed, even though Mary Beth was clinging to her. At that moment, she knew she’d have to fight to get them out of Nigel’s clutches.

She’d immediately contacted an attorney and contested Glynis’s will and guardianship of the children. The lawyer had said the procedure could take months, but Callie didn’t have that much time. Each night, she got another desperate call. Nigel had slapped Adam. Brit was crying because Nigel had locked her in the closet for talking back. Mary Beth was wetting the bed and sleeping in it, afraid to say anything. Callie feared for their safety, for their peace of mind.

She had a friend from college, Miranda Wright, who was now mayor of Homestead, Texas, a dying small town in the Texas Hill Country. Miranda had told her that the city council had foreclosed on a large ranch and several old homes for unpaid back taxes. The land and homes were now being given away if applicants were approved by the Home Free Committee. The applicant had to live on the property for a year and make the necessary improvements and renovations, then it would be theirs. Families and children were encouraged to come to build the tax base—to save the schools and the town.

The plan intrigued Callie because she’d been born in Homestead, as had Glynis and Callie’s father, Dale Collins. After her parent’s divorce, Callie had never seen her father again. When she was older, she’d asked Glynis about him, and her mother had said that he’d probably died long ago since he was an alcoholic. Callie still wondered though. Maybe now she’d find out the truth about her father.

The town of Homestead had always held a mystique for her. She guessed it represented her childhood or safety, or life before things got complicated. She’d always wanted to go back. And now here she was at two in the morning headed toward Texas and hoping against everything that she wouldn’t be caught.

She glanced back and saw Brit was asleep, her head sideways on a pillow—a purple pillow. Everything in Brit’s life these days had to be purple. One hand clutched a cowboy hat. She was going to Texas to ride a horse and become a cowgirl. Callie was glad Brit saw this as an adventure.

Mary Beth was also asleep, leaning toward the window, her head on a Barbie pillow, her doll, Winifred, better known as Miss Winnie, held tight against her. This was hardest on Mary Beth. She wanted her mother and Callie’s anger mounted at Glynis’s insensitivity. How could she leave her precious children in the hands of a man like Nigel Tremont?

It was now her responsibility to do what was best for her brother and sisters. Callie could only pray and hope they’d find some peace while she waited for her case to be heard.

Callie had invented a new identity and had applied for one of the free homes in Homestead. When she’d been approved, she’d taken money out of her savings, money that John had left her in trust until her twenty-fifth birthday, and opened a new account in Philadelphia. There was no way Nigel could find out about the account, and she could wire for the money once she reached Texas.

She was staggered by how easy it was to change your identity. Someone in the restaurant where she worked knew a guy, who knew a guy and with the right amount of money she could be anybody she wanted. So they were the Austins and Callie was the young mother of three. At twenty-eight, she was hoping she could pull that off. She was sure she’d aged ten years in the past month and for once in her life she was hoping it showed.

She’d given up her job as executive chef in a New York restaurant, her dream ever since she could remember, and they were headed for a new life, a new beginning far away from New York City—in Homestead, Texas.

Adam stirred in the passenger seat. He’d been dozing for a while but Callie knew he slept lightly, so afraid that they were going to be taken back to Nigel.

“You okay?” she asked, turning off the wipers. The light shower had stopped, leaving a stretch of wet highway.

He rubbed his eyes, gazing into the watery beam of the headlights. “Yes. Where are we?”

“Somewhere in Pennsylvania.”

He jerked up straight. “You do have a map and a route planned, don’t you?”

“Not exactly.” She’d been in too big of a hurry to leave New York. She planned to buy a map once they were on the way.

Nigel had gone out for the evening, like he usually did, leaving the kids by themselves. The children used to have a nanny, but Nigel had fired her, saying the kids were too old for one. Once Nigel had left, Adam had called Callie and turned off the security system. He’d done this several times before so Callie could get into the house and see the kids. Nigel had denied her any visitation and he’d warned Adam about calling her. Adam was told he’d be severely punished if he even thought of contacting his sister. The phone was only to be used for emergencies.

Minutes after she’d arrived at her mother’s home, they’d been on the road. Nigel wouldn’t check in on the children. Adam said he never did. It wasn’t in his nature to be paternal, especially after a night of drinking and partying. Once he’d sent them to bed, he expected his orders to be obeyed. Callie was hoping tonight would be no different, so they’d have a head start of several hours.

“Callie…”

She patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry, little brother. All roads lead to Texas.”

“They do not.”

To her, they did. “Trust me on this one. I’ll get us there.”

“Just drive carefully so a cop won’t stop us.”

Poor Adam. He’d taken on the role of older brother and protector at too early of an age. “I always drive carefully.”

“You do not. I was with you twice when you got tickets.”

“But that was Callie Lambert. Callie Austin is a diligent, cautious driver.”

He was silent for a moment then said, “Sorry about Fred, but Mary Beth wouldn’t leave without him.”

Fred was Mary Beth’s goldfish, a must-have after watching the movie Finding Nemo. Callie looked down at the goldfish bowl she’d managed to wedge into the console. Fred was the last thing she’d planned to pack, but she didn’t have the heart to tell Mary Beth. She’d lost two parents in six months and Callie couldn’t take anything else away from her.

“It’s okay. I guess Fred wanted to go to Texas, too.”

THE DAYS THAT FOLLOWED were very stressful. The constant vigilance was getting to Callie. She kept waiting for the sound of a siren and when she heard one in Virginia, she almost lost the Big Mac she’d just eaten. But the trooper sailed right by her, stopping the car ahead of them. It took an hour for her nerves to settle down.

The kids were also nervous. As they passed the stopped car, Mary Beth asked, “Are those people running away, too?”

Adam quickly turned in his seat to look at Mary Beth. “You can’t say things like that, especially in front of other people. They’ll take us back to Nigel and—”

Callie touched his arm, stopping him. “Adam is trying to say we need to be careful what we say.”

“I will. I sorry. I don’t want to go back.”

“It’s okay, sweetie,” Callie tried to reassure her.

“I want to sit in the front with you, Callie.”

“At the next stop you can change seats with Adam.”

“’Kay.”

Callie’s heart broke at what this was doing to them. Mary Beth was scared all the time. Hyperactive Brit couldn’t sit still and chatted nonstop. Adam, quiet and pale, just stared straight ahead at the road in front of them. And they were only halfway to Texas.

Then Callie had another problem—she noticed Fred floating face-up. Poking him with her finger, she found he was dead. She made a mad dash into a Wal-Mart with the bowl in her arms, leaving Adam in charge and telling Mary Beth that Fred needed fresh water. It took several minutes, but she bought a new Fred and they continued on their journey.

In Arkansas, Fred died again and Callie realized that goldfish did not travel well. Another Wal-Mart. Another fish. Callie prayed she could get this one to Homestead. She was tempted to tell Mary Beth that Fred had gone to heaven, but they’d had too many of those discussions lately. Callie wasn’t ready for another one.

THE JOURNEY WAS LONG. From the metropolis of New York to the farmlands of Pennsylvania, through the tobacco farms and timberlands of West Virginia and Virginia, to the Smoky Mountains of Tennessee—sometimes it looked as if they were in a tunnel, with sixty-foot pines on each side of the road—then they reached the Ozarks of Arkansas and soon the rolling plains of Texas. They’d made it! The kids shouted with joy. Callie was happy, too. It had been three days and they hadn’t been caught. And Fred was still alive. That was also reason to cheer.

She drove through the Dallas–Fort Worth area and took I-35 to Austin. She showed the kids the University of Texas where she’d gone to college. Somehow the beautiful hill country with its peaceful rolling hills, brilliant live oaks and craggy ledges made her feel at home. It was early June so the heat of the summer hadn’t dulled the landscape. Even the air was invigorating.

“That’s where I want to go to college,” Brit stated.

“We’re going to Harvard, just like Daddy planned,” Adam was quick to correct her.

“Oh. I forgot.”

John had started planning the children’s futures as soon as they were born. They would attend the same private school in New York John had as a boy. The school was known for its academic excellence. Then they would apply to Harvard, as he had. He’d wanted them to have the best education possible.

On his deathbed, Callie had promised to do everything she could to see that his wishes were fulfilled. No matter what happened, she had to keep her word.

She headed toward San Antonio, turned off the interstate and took the state highway to Homestead. When they saw the city-limit sign, they cheered again. The sign read Population 2,504, but Miranda had told her that about fifteen hundred people now lived in the small town—the reason Miranda and the city council had come up with a plan to repopulate the area.

Callie went through a drill, making sure they knew their roles.

“What’s our last name?”

Adam and Brit remained quiet, waiting for Mary Beth to reply first. “Austin,” she shouted. “My name is Mary Beth Austin and I’m from Chicago, Illinois, ’cause that’s where my nana lived. I know that.”

Callie had chosen Austin because it would be easy for them to remember—Callie had gone to school there. And Chicago because John’s mother had lived there before she’d died two years ago.

“My name is Brittany Austin and I can’t wait to ride a horse,” Brit responded.

“Don’t be stupid,” Adam said. “We don’t have a horse.”

“Callie!” Brit wailed.

“We’ll talk about the horse later. First we have to find our new home.”

Callie knew it would be difficult for them to call her mother so they’d agreed they would just call her by her name. She would explain it the best way she could—being so young when Adam had been born, she’d allowed him to call her by her first name, and the other two children had followed his lead. Telling lies was becoming a habit.

There was a vegetable-and-fruit stand on the outskirts of town and a used car lot. It was time to stop for gas. Buddy’s Gas and Auto Repair Shop was up ahead so she pulled in.

It was an old station, probably had been there for years, but the gas pumps were new. A wrecker parked to the side had Buddy’s written across the door. An old wood fence separated the station from a junkyard. Through the broken and missing boards weeds grew wild and she could see rows of junked cars on the other side. A large building stood behind the station and Callie assumed this was the auto shop. Across from the pumps was a shiny Coke machine and a small office. Attached to the office was a double garage that had a car on a lift. A man was under it, looking up. To the right there was a small white frame house with a chain-link fence around it.

Callie got out and wrinkled her nose at the strong smell of gas, oil and rubber. The man walked toward her. He looked to be somewhere in his late forties or early fifties and he wore jeans, baseball cap and a chambray western shirt splattered with oil stains. He wiped his hands on a grease rag.

“Need help, ma’am?” His smile was friendly.

Callie was used to filling up her own car. She didn’t think that kind of service was offered anymore.

“I just need some gas.”

“Sure ’nuff.” He jammed the rag in his back pocket and proceeded to remove the gas cap then stuck the nozzle into the tank.

“Can I get out, please?” Brit called.

“Yes,” Callie said, thinking they probably needed to stretch their legs. They’d stayed at small motels and eaten take-out food in roadside parks so no one would recognize them. The rest of the time they’d been in the car.

They climbed out and stood by Callie. Brit plopped her hat on her head and tightened the string under her chin.

“You folks passin’ through?” the man asked.

“No. We’re here for the Home Free Program. I was approved for one of the houses.”

“You don’t say. Mighty good.” He nodded. “We need more youngins in Homestead. I’m Buddy, by the way.”

“I’m Callie Austin and these are my children, Adam, Brittany and Mary Beth.” This was the first time she’d said those words out loud and she found it quite easy. “Nice to meet you, Buddy.”

He looked at her blond hair pulled back in a ponytail with a colorful scrunchie and she could almost read his mind—too young to have three kids.

“Plumb nice to meet you, ma’am,” he said, then glanced at the children. “Your youngins, too.”

“Have you got a horse?” Brit asked, looking up at him, and Callie was relieved at the change of subject.

“Nope, little missy, but know lots of folk who do.”

“I’m going to be a cowgirl.”

“Mighty fine hat for a cowgirl.”

The conversation stalled as a sheriff’s car drove up to the station. Buddy withdrew the nozzle and replaced the cap. Callie’s nerves tightened. She wanted to leave as fast as she could, but she had to pay for the gas. Glancing at the amount on the pump, she quickly dug in her purse.

“We better go,” Adam whispered, nudging her.

Callie handed Buddy the money as a tall man got out of the car. He opened the back door of his vehicle and a black Lab bounded out and loped straight to Buddy.

Mary Beth, who was glued to Callie’s side, came alive and moved in the direction of the dog. She loved animals.

“Buddy, I got a call from Mrs. Meyers. Rascal’s chasing her chickens again.”

Unable to resist, Callie glanced toward the strong, masculine voice. In khaki pants, a white shirt and cowboy boots, with a light-colored Stetson hat and a gun on his hip, the man in his mid-thirties moved with an easy swagger. She was sure she’d seen him in her dreams or fantasies at one time or another. He was like the Marlboro man and Brad Pitt rolled into a gorgeous package of Texas masculinity. She brought herself up short. She must be experiencing road lag. Or a mental block. The last thing she needed was to be attracted to the local sheriff. For that’s what he was. It said so right there on his badge attached to the shirt that covered his very broad chest.

Buddy rubbed the dog’s head. “He just likes to play, Wade.”

“Try telling that to Mrs. Meyers. She said her chickens won’t lay for a week now.”

“I’ll go over yonder and apologize.”

“What’s his name?” Mary Beth asked, patting the dog.

“Rascal,” Buddy said. “Rascal’s a bad dog.”

“Better keep him penned up for a while or at least until Mrs. Meyers cools off.”

“Sure ’nuff, Wade.” He motioned toward Callie. “This is Callie Austin and her youngins. New arrivals for the Home Free Program.”

“Howdy, ma’am. Wade Montgomery, sheriff of Loveless County.” He tipped his hat and held out his hand. “Welcome to Homestead.”

Callie had no choice. She took his hand—a hand that was strong and firm—probably like the man himself. Then she made the mistake of looking into his brown eyes and felt herself melting like butter on a hot grill. Heavens, he was handsome. And the sheriff. That little fact had her stepping back and taking control of her emotions.

“Thank you. We really have to go. It’s been a long trip.” She took Brit’s arm, but Mary Beth was entranced with the dog and Callie knew it wasn’t going to be easy to get her away from him.

“You have the Hellmuth house.”