Heart of Texas Volume One (11 page)

Luck was with him. Slowly but surely he'd manage to wriggle his way back into Grady's good graces—enough, at any rate, to convince his big brother to let him stay for a while. It wouldn't take long to win Savannah back, but then his sister had always been a soft touch. Grady, however, wasn't nearly as easy. So far, it was Richard two, Grady zilch.

Because not only was Richard staying at the ranch, he had the truck. Okay, Savannah had been the one to give him the keys, but what Grady didn't know wasn't going to hurt him.

His brother was a fool. Grady could have sold that ranch ten times over and lived off the profits for years. Instead he'd half killed himself holding on to twenty thousand smelly cattle-filled acres. Richard had listened to the spiel about their forefathers struggling against impossible odds and all that garbage. So what? He wasn't about to let the ranch or anything else tie him down. He had better ideas than following a bunch of senseless cattle around all that godforsaken land.

Richard pulled into the first available parking spot and hopped out of the cab. Six years away, and he still knew this town inside out, recognized every street and practically every building. On the other hand, no one was going to recognize
him
dressed as he was. What he needed, Richard decided, was new clothes.

His first stop was Jordan's Town and Country. Max Jordan who owned the place would be close to retirement by now.

“Max,” Richard said as he walked into the Western-wear store. He greeted Max as if they'd been the best of friends, slapping the older man jovially on the back. “Don't you know me?” he asked. “Richard. Richard Weston.”

“Richard.” The other man's eyes brightened with recognition. “When did you get back?”

“Yesterday. Listen, does Grady still have an open account with you?” He fingered the pearl buttons on a polished-cotton shirt and checked the cost, raising his brows at the price.

“That's one of our designer shirts,” Max said, and steered him toward another less pricy rack of clothes.

Richard returned to the original shirt. “Do you have it in a forty-two?”

“I think I just might,” Max said with some surprise. He shifted hangers as he searched out sizes. “Yup, got one right here.”

“Great. Grady said I should buy what I need.”

“Not a problem,” Max assured him, grinning at the prospect of a big sale. “How's Grady doing these days? I don't see much of him.”

“He works too hard,” Richard said. And it was true. His brother needed to relax and not take everything so seriously.

“It's good to see you, my boy,” Max said, watching Richard try on a pair of three-hundred-dollar snakeskin boots. They fit perfectly as if they were just waiting for him. “I'll take these, as well.”

“Good choice.”

Grady wouldn't think so, but Richard would pay him back. Eventually.

“I've got to say I still miss yours parents,” Max continued. “They were good people. My, but your mother knew how to cook, and your pa, why, he was the life of the party.”

The word
party
struck a pleasant chord with Richard. He didn't imagine there'd been much celebrating around the Yellow Rose since he'd been away. Not with Grady being such a tightwad. He doubted his brother even knew how to laugh anymore, and Savannah ran and hid from her own shadow.

“Funny you should mention a party,” Richard said as the owner tallied the bill. “Grady's throwing a bash to welcome me home on Sunday. You're welcome to come. Bring the missus, too.”

“Who else'll be there?”

“The whole town's invited. Spread the word, will you?”

“Sure. It'll be great for everyone to get together. Haven't had a real party all spring, and it's weeks yet until the big summer dance.”

Richard left soon after signing his name to the yellow slip. On the sidewalk outside Jordan's he ran into Ellie Frasier. “Ellie,” he said and did a double take. “Little Ellie?” Only she wasn't so little anymore. She'd been in junior high when he was a high-school senior, and he remembered thinking then that she was going to be a looker. He'd been right.

She stared at him blankly.

“Richard!” he cried and spread his arms wide. He was surprised she didn't recognize him in his new shirt, hat and boots. His gaze lowered to her full breasts. He always had been partial to a well-endowed woman. Yup, he could see he'd come home in the nick of time. No ring on her finger, either. Not that it mattered. Often, forbidden fruit was all the sweeter.

“Richard Weston?”

“The one and only.”

She asked the same questions as Max—when he'd arrived, what he'd been doing, how long he planned to stay and so on. He was vague until he mentioned the party.

“Bring whoever you want, but be sure to save me a dance, all right?” He winked, letting her know he was interested.

“I don't know… My dad's been sick and—”

“Come, anyway,” he urged. “You need the break, and what better way to put your troubles behind you than to kick up your heels and party?”

Dancing. That meant music. They were going to need a band, and on short notice. That'd cost a few extra bucks, but hey, no problem. Grady was tight with a penny, but he probably had plenty of cash stored away. His older brother was too much like their father to cut it close to the bone.

“Who's playing at the Chili Pepper these days?” he asked, referring to the best barbecue pit in town.

Ellie named a band he hadn't heard of. He nodded and headed in that direction. While he was there, he'd arrange to have Adam Braunfels set up a barbecue. They were going to need lots of food. Naturally Savannah would want to cook up most of it herself, make salads and such; she'd insist on that the same way Mom would if she were alive.

He remembered his parents with fondness. Their deaths had put an unexpected crimp in his life, but Richard was a survivor. The years had proved that. He'd weathered his current troubles, hadn't he? He was home and as safe as a babe in arms.

By the time Richard drove back to the ranch, he'd made a number of arrangements for the party. He'd ordered a dozen cases of beer and he'd made sure there was going to be plenty of soda pop for the youngsters. Millie over at the flower shop had suggested Chinese lanterns and agreed to set them up early in the afternoon. For a price, naturally, but she'd been reasonable about it.

Savannah was working in her garden when he arrived. She wore one of those long dresses of hers with an oversize straw hat and looked more like a nun than the big sister he remembered. Briefly he wondered what was up between her and that prickly hired hand.

“My, don't you look beautiful this afternoon,” Richard said as he waltzed through the gate. “As pretty as one of your roses.”

She blushed and Richard was struck by how truly pretty she was. It surprised him.

“Listen, sis, I probably shouldn't have done this, but I ran into some friends in town.”

Savannah straightened and dabbed the sweat from her brow. “I imagine everyone was glad to see you.”

“They were, but there just wasn't enough time to visit with everyone the way I wanted. I hope you don't mind, but I invited a few people over for dinner Sunday evening. You wouldn't mind cooking up some of your prize-winning potato salad, now, would you?”

“For how many?”

Richard laughed and hugged her close. “Enough for about 150.”

G
RADY SWORE
R
ICHARD
must have invited the entire population of Promise to this so-called party. Neighbors and friends whirled around the makeshift dance floor, while others sat in the sunshine and exchanged gossip. Grady didn't want anything to do with it.

The first he'd heard of Richard's party was when he found Savannah in the kitchen this morning cooking her heart out. The next thing he knew, Millie Greenville from the local flower shop was stringing Chinese lanterns around the backyard and asking him when he intended to set up the tables. According to Millie, he was going to need at least twenty to accommodate everyone.

Before he fully comprehended what was happening, people started to arrive. The lead singer of the Hoss Cartrights asked him questions he couldn't answer. Apparently they didn't need his help because the next time he stepped out of the barn, they'd set up a stage, plugged in their sound equipment and spread a bale of straw across the lawn for a dance floor.

Richard, dressed in his fancy new duds, was in his element. Grady didn't know what had possessed him to give in to Savannah's pleadings to let their worthless brother stay on until his severance check showed up. Grady wasn't entirely convinced there
was
a check. Furthermore he wondered where the hell Richard was getting the money to pay for his new clothes, not to mention this party. The guy was supposed to be broke. Well, maybe he had a charge card he hadn't told them about.

As for Richard's staying on, Savannah insisted it'd only be a few days. Richard needed to recuperate, rest up. To hear her tell it, you'd think he'd been working on a chain gang for the past six years and was practically at death's door. Judging by the energy his kid brother displayed on the dance floor, he'd recovered quickly, Grady thought.

The beer flowed free and easy. Grady was on his second bottle himself: the Chili Pepper's spicy barbecue sauce sizzled on the large tin-drum grills, filling the air with a spicy smoky aroma. The dinner line extended halfway around the house.

Those who weren't eating or dancing mingled in the yard, making themselves at home. Grady had originally decided not to participate in Richard's party, but his standoffishness hadn't lasted long.

Cal and Glen Patterson, neighboring ranchers and friends, arrived then. They sat with him on the porch steps. Grady couldn't remember the last time he'd shot the breeze with the brothers. The three of them had grown up together and remained close to this day. As close as Grady allowed anyone to get.

“I didn't think you'd ever welcome Richard back,” Cal said, leaning back, a beer in one hand. Cal and the sheriff were the only two who knew about Richard's theft. It wasn't the kind of information you shared about family.

“I didn't welcome him back.” Grady wanted that understood right then and there. This party wasn't his idea.

Grady noticed Sheriff Hennessey twirling Dovie Boyd around the dance floor. His opinion of the lawman had fallen several degrees when he'd failed to turn up anything on Smith. If the man was doing his job, he grumbled to himself, Frank would be down at the office right this minute, instead of partying.

“If you aren't responsible for this welcoming, then whose idea was it?” Cal asked. “Savannah's?”

“Nope. Richard organized it himself.” Grady took another swallow of beer. The cold brew helped relieve his growing sense of frustration. Again he wondered how Richard intended to pay for all this. Surely he wasn't expecting
him
to foot the bill. That would be too brazen even for Richard.

His mistake, Grady realized, was giving in and allowing Richard to stay that first night. Now his younger brother had manipulated him once again—made it look as if Grady had welcomed him back with open arms. As far as he was concerned, Richard couldn't leave soon enough.

Savannah had been slaving in the kitchen since before dawn. Neighbors he hadn't seen in months had brought over pies, cakes and an assortment of side dishes; they'd delivered picnic tables and dozens of lawn chairs. And now Grady was indebted to each and every one of them. His neighbors would be looking for return favors, too. Especially of the social kind. It wouldn't take long for the invites to arrive, and he'd be expected to accept. Damn it all. He'd never been a party goer and didn't intend to start now.

“What I'd like to know,” Grady muttered to his friends, “is how the hell he's paying for all this.”

“Did you ask him?” Glen, the younger of the Patterson brothers, inquired.

“I didn't have a chance.” The party was happening before Grady even knew there was going to be one. If he'd had a clue what his brother was up to, he would have put a stop to it. The last time he'd seen this many people had been the day he buried his parents. Leave it to Richard to dredge up the most pain-filled memory of his life.

“Who's that?” Glen asked, directing their attention to a blond woman walking in from the driveway. The row of cars stretched all the way to the road. Fifty at last count.

Grady didn't recognize the newcomer, either. She was young and pretty, if such attributes mattered to him, which they didn't. She didn't seem to know many people because she stood at the edge of the crowd, looking self-conscious in a pinstriped power suit. Whoever she was, she'd completely overdressed for the party.

Cal sat up and gave her a long stare. “Isn't that the new doc? Jane something-or-other.”

“She's a doctor?” Glen asked with disbelief. “Promise has a lady doctor? When did all this happen?”

“Last week.” Cal nudged his brother with an elbow. “Don't you two read the paper?”

“Who has time?” Grady wanted to know.

“Cal keeps the weekly edition by the john, don't you, big brother?” Glen teased.

“Well, it gets read, doesn't it?” Cal chided. “Her picture was on the front page. She's here on one of those government programs.”

“What government program?”

“I don't know the name of it, but the paper said she agreed to work off her medical-school loans by volunteering her skill in a deprived area.”

“Promise is a deprived area?” This was news to Grady.

“Must be,” Cal muttered, sounding as surprised as Grady.

“Hey, we got a doctor who didn't fight in the battle for the Alamo?”

Doc Cummings had retired at the first of the year at the age of seventy. At least he admitted to being seventy, but in Grady's opinion, he was on the shady side of that figure. He'd delivered Grady and just about everyone else in town under forty. Rumor had it that Doc Cummings was lazing his days away on the Gulf coast now, eating shrimp and soaking up the sunshine. Grady wished the old coot well.

Caroline Daniels strolled past, carrying a bowl of potato salad. She returned a minute or so later with an empty one. Straining, Grady glanced into the kitchen and caught a glimpse of Savannah feverishly making another batch of salad. Smith was there with her, sitting at the table and dutifully peeling potatoes. Those two were as thick as thieves, despite all his warnings. His talk with Laredo Smith hadn't made any difference; he suspected Savannah was still planning a return visit to Bitter End. It hadn't been easy swallowing his pride and asking for Smith's help. The wrangler appeared to have gotten the wrong message, too, because he spent every available minute with Savannah, just as if Grady had given the pair his blessing. He hadn't. Despite his job offer, he wanted the other man off the ranch and the sooner the better.

“Are you going to dance with me or not?” Breathlessly Ellie Frasier plopped herself down next to Glen. They were good friends and had been for years. Grady had never understood how a man could be friends with a woman and not get romantically involved. But that seemed to be the way it was with Glen and Ellie. They were friends and nothing more.

Ellie needed a confidant these days, according to Cal. Her father was terminally ill and had been transferred to a hospital in San Antonio. Her mother was spending all her time there while Ellie ran the family store. Grady sympathized; he knew all too well the pain of losing a parent. Ellie was young to be taking on such heavy responsibility, but from what he heard, she was up to the task. She spent as much time as possible visiting her father, and between driving to San Antonio and managing the business, she was running herself ragged. It surprised him a little that Ellie was at the party, and he guessed Glen had something to do with that. Getting away from all the emotional pressures was probably the best thing for her.

“So what about that dance, Patterson?”

“Seems to me you've already got yourself a dance partner,” Glen said. He stared pointedly in Richard's direction. Grady's brother was at his most charming, teasing and laughing with the women, exchanging jokes with the men. Outgoing, personable, the life of the party—and self-appointed guest of honor, to boot.

“I gotta say,” Ellie said, speaking to Grady, “your brother's mighty light on his feet.”

Yeah, in more ways than one.
Grady was tempted to say it but didn't. He frowned, instead. Richard had been on the dance floor for hours without revealing any signs of slowing down. Grady suspected his brother had danced with every woman in town at least once, and the pretty ones twice. He'd taken a liking to Ellie, that was for sure. Grady had seen the two of them dancing three or four times already. He wanted to issue a word of caution, seeing how vulnerable Ellie must be feeling, but he bit his tongue. She'd find out soon enough what kind of man his brother was.

“I'd forgotten how much fun Richard could be,” Ellie said.

“He's a regular laugh fest,” Grady agreed sarcastically; he couldn't help it. Ellie studied him for a moment and he hoped she'd gotten the message.

“Don't mind Grady,” Glen said, looping his arm around Ellie's shoulders. “He's just sore because he doesn't have anyone to dance with.”

Grady's frown deepened. He wasn't about to make a fool of himself in front of the entire town. While Richard might know his way around a dance floor, Grady had been cursed with two left feet. The last time he'd attempted to dance he'd been in his teens and forced to wear a suit and boutonniere.

“I haven't seen this many people since the Willie Nelson Fourth of July picnic,” Cal said. Like Grady, his friend wasn't much of a social animal. Glen was by far the most outgoing of the three men. He'd tried to drag Grady off to the town's biggest function—next to the cattlemen's dance and the rodeo—for the past six years. Every Fourth of July Promise threw a Willie Nelson picnic, hoping the popular entertainer would agree to visit. Willie had politely declined each year, but the town councillors hadn't let that deter them from holding the affair in the singer's honor.

“Come on,” Ellie urged, tugging at Glen's hand. “I want to dance.” With a show of reluctance, Glen untangled his feet and stood.

The pair was out of earshot when Cal spoke. “We won't see him the rest of the night. Once he's out on the floor, he won't quit.”

“Go ahead if you feel like it,” Grady told his friend. “No need to keep me company.”

“No thanks. I'm happy to sit here for a while.”

Cal lingered an hour or so, not that they said much. This was what Grady enjoyed most about his friend. They didn't have to fill every silence with idle chatter. A couple of times he was on the verge of mentioning Savannah's recent trek to the ghost town, but he held his tongue. The last time either one of them had talked about Bitter End, they'd been in their teens. Anyway, there wasn't anything Cal could tell him he didn't already know. Besides, Savannah was his concern, not his neighbor's. After a time Cal drifted away to get himself some barbecue.

Laughter and music abounded. It disgusted Grady to watch his brother. Richard continued to be sociable and entertaining, the focus of the party. It certainly hadn't taken him long to put the good people of Promise under his spell. Once again Grady wondered how his brother intended to pay for all this, but it wasn't his concern, and he wasn't going to worry about it.

The kitchen door opened and Caroline stepped outside. Her gaze caught Grady's; she waved, then walked over to where Adam Braunfels was handing out beer. She collected two.

Grady was somewhat surprised when she brought the extra bottle over to him. “You look like you could use this,” she said and sat down on the step beside him. She tucked one knee under her chin while her foot tapped to the beat of the music.

Grady saluted her with the bottle and took a long swallow of beer. Neither spoke for a few minutes; both of them just stared at the dance floor. Finally Caroline said, “He's really something, isn't he?”

“If you came over here to sing Richard's praises, I don't want to hear them.”

“This might surprise you, Grady, but I'm not a fan of your brother's.”

It
was
news to Grady, and he found himself grateful that at least one other person hadn't been blinded by Richard's charm. “I get the impression you aren't particularly fond of me, either,” he said wryly.