Heart of Texas Vol. 3 (20 page)

“No.”

“I…I got your letter.” She wanted to tell him how excited she was when she saw it, but couldn't manage the words.

“I got yours, too. That's the reason I'm here.”

“My letter?” He must have booked the flight out of New York a minute after he'd read it.

“You love me, Nell, don't you?”

She nodded slowly.

“I love you, too,” he whispered and reached for her hand.

“But—”

“Hear me out,” he interrupted. “You're about to list all the reasons it's impossible for us to be together, but there's nothing you can say that I haven't thought of myself. We're different, but it's a good kind of different. We're good together, a team.”

“But—”

“Together we solved a hundred-year-old mystery. There's a lesson in it, too. The people who left Bitter End were looking to make a new life, a new start, and put the pain of the past behind them. I'm offering you the same opportunity—and taking advantage of it myself. We belong together, Nell. You and me and Ruth and the kids.”

“But—”

“I'm almost finished,” he promised and drew in a deep breath. “It'll be a new life for all of us. I love you, Nell. I want to marry you.”

“I can't live in the city,” she blurted.

“You won't have to.”

“You mean that?” It was almost more than she dared believe.

“Not if you don't want to. I can work anywhere, you know. One of the benefits of being a writer.” He paused. “So?”

“I'll marry you.” She'd known that the minute she saw him standing on the porch.

“You don't have any questions?” He seemed almost disappointed that she wasn't going to argue with him.

“Yeah. One.” She smiled. “Just how much longer do I have to wait for you to kiss me?”

Within a single beat of her heart, Travis had wrapped her in his arms. His mouth was hard and hungry over hers, and Nell let herself soak in his love. He loved her, really loved her! And he was right that it was time to put aside the past and start again.

“How soon can we arrange the wedding?” he whispered against her throat.

“Soon,” she said.

Travis chuckled. “But not soon enough to suit me.” Then he kissed her again.

Nell Bishop:
thirtysomething widow with a son, Jeremy, and a daughter, Emma; her husband died in a tractor accident

Ruth Bishop:
Nell's mother-in-law; lives with Nell and her two children

Dovie Boyd:
runs an antiques shop and has dated Sheriff Frank Hennessey for ten years

Caroline Daniels:
postmistress of Promise

Maggie Daniels:
Caroline's five-year-old daughter

Dr. Jane Dickinson:
new doctor in Promise

Ellie Frasier:
owner of Frasier's Feed Store

Frank Hennessey:
local sheriff

Max Jordan:
owner of Jordan's Towne and Country

Wade McMillen:
preacher of Promise Christian Church

Edwina and Lily Moorhouse:
sisters; retired schoolteachers

Cal and Glen Patterson:
local ranchers; brothers who ranch together

Phil and Mary Patterson:
parents of Cal and Glen; operate a local B and B

Louise Powell:
town gossip

Wiley Rogers:
sixty-year-old ranch foreman at the Weston Ranch

Laredo Smith:
wrangler hired by Savannah Weston

Barbara and Melvin Weston:
mother and father to Savannah, Grady and Richard; the Westons died six years ago

Richard Weston:
youngest of the Weston siblings

Savannah Weston:
Grady and Richard's sister; cultivates old roses

Grady Weston:
rancher and oldest of the Weston siblings

A
MY
T
HORNTON WAS OUT OF MONEY
,
out of luck and out of hope. Well, she had a little cash left, but her luck had definitely run out, and as for her reserves of hope—they were nonexistent. When the Greyhound bus rolled into the bowling-alley parking lot in Promise, Texas, she stayed in her seat. Disinterested and almost numb, she stared out the window.

Promise seemed like a friendly town. June flower baskets, filled to overflowing with blooming perennials, hung from the streetlights. People stopped to chat, and there was a leisurely, almost festive atmosphere that Amy observed with yearning. Smoke wafted from a barbecue restaurant, and farther down the street, at Frasier Feed, chairs were set up next to a soda machine. A couple of men in cowboy hats and boots sat with their feet propped against the railing; they appeared to find something highly humorous. One of them threw back his head, laughing boisterously. His amusement was contagious and Amy found herself smiling, too.

A couple of people boarded the bus. As soon as they'd taken their seats, the bus doors closed. “Next stop is Brewster,” the driver announced.

“Excuse me!” Amy cried, and surprised herself by leaping to her feet. “I want to get off here.”

“Here?” The driver looked at her as if he thought he'd misunderstood. The bus had sat there for fifteen minutes without her saying a word.

“Yes,” she said as though Promise had been her destination all along. “I'll need my suitcase.”

Muttering irritably under his breath, the driver climbed out of the bus, opened the luggage compartment and extracted her travel-worn case.

Five minutes later, choking on the bus's exhaust, Amy stood in the parking lot, wondering what madness had possessed her. She was homeless, without a job and nearly six months pregnant. She didn't know a soul in this town, yet she felt compelled to start her new life here. Away from her mother. Away from Alex. Away from all the unhappiness that had driven her out of Dallas.

Austin had been her original destination. Her mother's cousin lived there—not that Beverly Ramsey was expecting her. But she
was
the only other family Amy had. Moving to Austin had seemed preferable to staying in Dallas, and despite the pregnancy, she'd felt confident she could find employment fairly quickly, if not in an accounting office, then perhaps as a temp. Anything would do for now, as long as she managed to meet her expenses until she located something more permanent. Naturally she'd hoped that Beverly would invite her to stay until she found an apartment. Two weeks, she'd promised herself. No longer. Just until she was back on her feet. Yet the thought of calling her mother's cousin mortified Amy. Her mother had sponged off Beverly's kindheartedness for years. It went against everything in Amy to ask for help. She'd rather make it on her own.

If only she knew what to do.

Promise, Texas. Holding her suitcase with both hands, she glanced down Main Street again. If ever she'd needed a promise, it was now. A promise and a miracle—or two.

The baby kicked and Amy automatically flattened her hand against her stomach. “I know, Sarah, I know,” she whispered to her unborn child. She hadn't had an ultrasound but chose to think of her baby as a girl and had named her Sarah. “It's not the smartest move we've made, is it? I don't know a soul in this town, but it looks like the kind of place where we could be happy.”

Her stomach growled and she tried to remember the last time she'd eaten. A small poster advertising $1.99 breakfast special showed in the bowling-alley window. Apparently there was a café inside.

The small restaurant was busy; almost all the seats were taken, but Amy was fortunate to find an empty booth. A waitress handed her a menu when she brought her a glass of water and glanced at her suitcase.

“You miss the bus, honey?” she asked. “You need a place to wait?”

“Actually I just got off,” Amy said, touched by the other woman's concern. “I'll take the breakfast special.”

“It's the best buy in town,” the woman, whose name tag identified her as Denise, said as she wrote the order down on her pad.

Seeing that the waitress was the friendly sort, Amy asked, “Do you happen to know of someone who needs a competent bookkeeper?”

Denise gnawed thoughtfully on her lip. “I can't say I do, but I'm sure there's a job for you in Promise if you're planning to settle here.”

The news cheered Amy as much as the welcome she felt. Already she was beginning to believe she'd made the right decision. Promise, Texas, would be her new address—the town where she'd raise her baby. Where she'd make a life for them both. “I can do just about anything,” Amy added, not bothering to disguise her eagerness, “and I'm not picky, either.”

“Then I'm sure all you need to do is ask around.”

A rancher sitting at a table across from Amy caught Denise's eye and lifted his empty coffee mug. “Be right with you, Cody,” she said, then looked back at Amy. “Tex will have your meal out in a jiffy.”

“Thanks for your help,” Amy said, grateful for Denise's encouragement and kindness. As she waited, she found herself fighting the urge to close her eyes. She staved off a yawn as her meal arrived.

The eggs, toast and hash browns tasted better than anything she'd ever eaten. She hadn't realized how hungry she was and had to force herself to eat slowly. When she'd finished the meal, Amy left her money on the table and included a larger than usual tip in appreciation for Denise's welcoming helpfulness.

As she stood up to leave, the rancher Denise had called Cody sent her a curious glance. He smiled in her direction until he noticed the slight rounding of her abdomen, then his eyes widened and he abruptly turned the other way. Amy shook her head in amusement.

Taking Denise's advice, she walked down Main Street and looked for Help Wanted signs posted in store windows. She saw none, and it occurred to her that it might not be a good idea to apply for a position, suitcase in hand. Her first priority was finding a place to live. Besides, her feet hurt and the suitcase was getting heavier by the minute.

That was when Amy saw the church. It could have appeared on a postcard. Small and charming, it was built of red brick and had wide, welcoming steps that led up to arched double doors. They were open, and although she felt silly thinking this, the church seemed to be inviting her in.

Amy soon found herself walking toward it. Lugging her suitcase up the stairs, she entered the vacant church and looked around. The interior was dark on one side, while rainbow-hued sunlight spilled in through stained-glass windows on the other.

Silently she stepped inside, slipped into a back pew and sat down. It felt good to be off her feet and she gave an audible sigh, followed by a wide yawn. She'd rest a few minutes, she decided. Just a few minutes…

The male voice that reached her came out of nowhere. Amy bolted upright. Her eyes flew open and she realized she'd fallen asleep in the pew.

“I beg your pardon,” she said, instantly feeling guilt. It took her a moment to discern anything in the dim interior. When her eyes had adjusted, she saw a tall rugged-looking man standing in the church aisle, staring down at her. He resembled a rancher, not unlike the one she'd seen in the café, except that he wore a suit and a string tie.

“Is there a problem?” he asked, his voice gentle.

“No.” She shook her head. “None.” Flustered, she stood clumsily and grabbed for her suitcase.

“My sermons might be boring, but people generally wake up before Thursday afternoon.” His smile unnerved her.

“I didn't mean to fall asleep. I closed my eyes and the next thing I knew, you were here.” She glanced at her watch; she'd drifted off for at least twenty minutes, although it felt more like twenty seconds.

“You don't have anything to apologize for,” the man told her kindly. “Are you sure there isn't anything I can do to help?”

“How about a miracle or two?” She hadn't meant to sound so flippant.

“Hey,” he said, dazzling her with a wide Texas grin, “it just so happens miracles are my specialty.” He held his arms open as if to say all she needed to do was ask and he'd direct her request to a higher power.

Amy looked more closely at this man, wondering if he was real.

“Wade McMillen,” he said, offering her his hand. “Reverend Wade McMillen.”

“Amy Thornton.” She shook hands with him and withdrew hers quickly.

“Now, what kind of miracle do you need?” he asked as if rescuing damsels in distress was all part of a day's work.

“Since you asked,” Amy said, slowly releasing her breath. “How about a place to live, a job and a father for my baby?”

“Hmm.” Reverend McMillen's gaze fell to her stomach. “That might take some doing.”

So he hadn't noticed the pregnancy before, but he did now. “Some miracles are harder than others, I guess.” Amy shrugged, figuring it was unlikely he'd be able to help her. But she got into this predicament on her own, and she'd get out of it the same way.

“But none are impossible,” Wade reminded her. “Come with me.”

“Where are we going?”

“The church office. I'll need to ask you a few questions, but as I said, miracles are my specialty.”

D
OVIE
B
OYD
H
ENNESSEY STEPPED
back from the display she'd been working on and studied it with a discerning eye. The pine desk was a heavy old-fashioned one. She'd placed a book next to the lamp, with an overturned pair of old wire-rimmed spectacles on top. A cable-knit sweater was casually draped over the back of the chair, suggesting that someone was about to return. The knickknacks, a quill pen and ink bottle along with a couple of framed pictures, gave it a well-used comfortable feeling.

The effect was all she'd hoped for. Her shop had enjoyed a rush of business in the past few months, and the antiques were moving almost as fast as she could get them in the door. Just last week she'd sold a solid cherry four-poster bed that had been in inventory for the better part of eighteen months. Dovie was thrilled. Not just because of the sale, but with the bed gone, an entire corner of the shop would be freed up, allowing her to create a brand-new scene.

Designing these homey nooks was what she loved best. If she'd been thirty-five years younger, she'd go back to school and study to be an interior decorator. Her skills were instinctive, and she loved assembling furniture and various bits and pieces to create the illusion of cozy inviting rooms. But with Frank talking about retiring and the two of them traveling, she probably wouldn't be as involved in the running of her store as she'd been in years past.

As if the thought had conjured up the man, the bells above her door chimed and Sheriff Frank Hennessey walked into the shop.

“Frank!” She brightened at the sight of him. They'd been married nine months now—and he could still fluster her! He was a striking man for sixty, handsome and easy on the eyes.

“Travis Grant come for that cherry bed yet?”

“Not yet,” Dovie told him, wondering at the question.

Frank smiled—and it was a saucy sexy smile she knew all too well. “Frank, don't be ridiculous.”

“We're married, aren't we?”

“It's the middle of the afternoon—good heavens, someone could walk in that door any minute.” She edged protectively to the other side of the desk.

“You could always lock the door.”

“Frank! Be sensible.”

He walked toward the desk.

Giggling like a schoolgirl, Dovie moved beyond his reach. “What about the display windows?”

“Draw the shades.”

He had an answer for everything.

“Frank, people of our age don't do this sort of thing!”

“Speak for yourself, woman,” he said, racing around the desk.

Dovie let out a squeal and fled with her husband in hot pursuit. He'd just about caught up with her when the bells above the door chimed. Frank and Dovie both froze in their tracks.

Louise Powell, the town gossip, stood just inside the doorway staring as if she'd caught them buck naked on the bed. Her head fell back, her mouth dropped open and her eyes grew round as golf balls.

“Well, I never,” she began.

“Maybe you should,” Frank suggested. “I bet Paul would appreciate a little hanky-panky now and then.”

Dovie elbowed her husband in the ribs and heard him swallow a groan. “Is there something I can help you find?” Dovie asked with as much poise as she could muster. A loose curl fell across her forehead and she blew it away, then tucked it back in place.

“I…I came to browse,” Louise muttered. “It's Tammy Lee's birthday next week and…”

Dovie couldn't imagine there being anything in this store that Tammy Lee Kollenborn would find to her liking. The inventory included classy pieces of jewelry, subtly elegant clothing and delicate figurines. Nothing she sold had sequins—which was more Tammy Lee's style—but Dovie would never have said so.