Tammy and the Doctor

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So would Tammy. And she was tempted to ask Jenna if she wanted company, but she held back. Her cousin had been friendly last night. And she was being nice now.

Why push herself on the woman? Tammy had learned early on how badly something like that was likely to go, how awkward. Way back in high school she’d made the mistake of approaching a popular group of girls.

She could still hear their giggles and see their smirks.

“You know,” Tammy said, as she got to her feet, “I’d better take a shower now before your sister beats me to it.”

“Donna’s probably already showered and holed up in her room working,” Jenna said. “But you never know… .”

Tammy nodded, then carried her mug to the sink, not wanting to take any chances.

“I’ll talk to you later,” she told her cousin. “Have a nice walk.”

“Thanks.”

As Barbara offered Jenna a plate of muffins, Tammy returned to her bedroom for a pair of clean jeans and a shirt. Then she took them into the bathroom, which was still a little damp and steamy. After locking the door, she turned on the spigot to the shower and waited for the water to heat. As she did so, she removed her clothes.

When she was as naked as a jaybird—and a lot more womanly than most folks would guess—she stepped under the nozzle and let the water jet over her from top to bottom, wetting her hair as it hung along her back.

For a moment, she relished the warmth of the spray. Then she turned slowly, planning to reach for a bar of soap. Instead, she spotted several plastic bottles sitting on the tiled shelf inside the shower stall.

She lifted each one and read the labels, noting shampoo, conditioner and body wash.

As the water continued to sluice over her, Tammy opened each lid, taking a whiff of the girly scent of flowers.

Not bad. In fact, it was kind of nice—and certainly not her usual smell. Tammy showered as often as the next person, but she always used the generic stuff.

Unable to help herself, she squeezed out a dab of shampoo, then applied it to her wet head, hoping her cousin wouldn’t mind.

As she rinsed the long, silky strands, she wondered if she ought to skip the rubber band and wear her long hair loose today.

Sure. Why not?

After she rinsed and dried off, she put on her clean clothes. Then she opened the bathroom door and allowed the dry air to chase away the steam.

Once she could see herself in the mirror again, she spotted a familiar yet very different woman staring back at her, her facial expression revealing how uneasy she felt at the unmasking.

But why wouldn’t she be? Tammy had never known her mama, so she’d grown up in a man’s world, making her way the best she could. And up until today—or rather, yesterday—she’d been happy with the strides she’d made.

But not now. Not when being a lady seemed more important than it ever had before—and far more important than trying to prove herself equal to the men in her family.

She stooped and opened the cupboard under the sink and found a handheld blow-dryer, which was still warm from use. She wondered if Jenna would mind if she borrowed it. But since Jenna had gone outside to explore the ranch, Tammy couldn’t very well ask her permission.

Again she gave in to temptation. Her brush was in her purse in the bedroom, so she used her hands to dry and style the soft curls. When she’d done the best she could, she looked over her work. She definitely saw an improvement. But would it be enough?

Maybe she ought to talk to Jenna as soon as she returned from her walk. If her cousin agreed to give her a few pointers about hair—and even clothes or makeup—Tammy would feel a lot more confident when Doc arrived.

And then maybe she’d snag his attention and put a few stars in his eyes, too.

It was almost eight o’clock in the morning when Mike left town and drove out to the Flying B. He hadn’t meant to visit Tex until late this afternoon, but he’d had second thoughts on his way back to the office yesterday and had decided to return earlier than he’d planned.

Tex hadn’t gone into any detail about the old family feud, but Dr. Reynolds had told Mike about the old man’s insistence upon making things right before he passed. And in Tex’s condition, the stress of meeting new family members during an emotional and trying time could end up being too much for him.

Mike wouldn’t allow himself to get personally involved with any of the Buckshot Hills residents. After all, he’d only be in town long enough to do his job and to pay his debt to his benefactor. Then he would fly home to Philadelphia, where he hoped the position with the Riverview Medical Group was still available.

But in spite of his determination to maintain a professional distance from the locals, Mike couldn’t help sympathizing with Tex Byrd. The man was dying—and he wouldn’t last much longer.

If Tex lived someplace else, in a bigger town or a city where hospice was readily available, Mike would have set it up the first day he’d looked over the old man’s chart.

Yet it wasn’t the rancher’s terminal diagnosis that caused Mike to feel for him. It was his resolve to set things right within his family before he died.

Had Tex called that meeting last night? If so, Mike wondered what had happened. How was Tex faring today? Was he in more pain? Was he distressed?

As Mike turned onto the county road and headed for the Flying B, he thought about the family members who’d gathered, as well as the stragglers who’d yet to arrive yesterday afternoon.

Were they eager to put an end to the feud? Or were they more interested in the old man’s will and the division of his assets?

It was hard to say. Sometimes death brought out the worst in people.

Engagement rings did that, too.

His thoughts shifted to Katrina Willis and the blowup they’d had before he’d left Philadelphia. So much for true love, he supposed. But it was probably for the best. They’d had different plans for the future.

Katrina had called him on his cell phone last night, telling him she’d had a change of heart and that she wanted to come out to see him in Texas, maybe even stay with him. But Mike wasn’t about to agree to something like that. Katrina would hate the small-town life, and he’d be miserable if he had to listen to her complaints for the next couple of weeks.

Hell, being in Buckshot Hills was difficult enough for him. Even in his wildest dreams he’d never expected to live in a place like this—albeit temporarily.

But he shook off the thoughts. Katrina was out of the picture. Mike only had himself and his mother to worry about now.

Unlike Tex Byrd, Mike’s mom didn’t have any real assets to divvy up. But that didn’t matter. She’d been a loving, supportive mother, and because of that, Mike’s childhood had been happy.

He might have grown up poor and somewhat disadvantaged—at least, until she’d gone to work for George Ballard and their financial situation had improved—but once he’d seen the good life, first through George and then through Katrina and some of his college roommates, he was determined to create that lifestyle for himself, as well as for his mother, who’d worked her tail off to raise him on her own. She deserved to finally retire and do some of the things she’d only dreamed about in the past, and Mike would soon be able to provide them for her.

Well, that is, he’d provide them once he got out of Buckshot Hills.

Up ahead, he spotted Flying B Road and reached for his turn signal. He sure hoped his patient was holding up okay—and that the plans to set things right within the family hadn’t blown up in his face.

After Tammy had dried her hair, leaving it in a wild array of curls, she pondered the idea of going outside to look for Jenna. She’d gotten as far as the wraparound porch, but had chickened out and returned to the house.

As a teenager, she’d learned not to let the girls—or the boys, for that matter—know that she felt the least bit insecure about anything.

And something told her becoming an adult hadn’t changed things very much.

So instead, she went back into the living room and headed down the hall until she reached the entrance to Tex’s room. For the longest time, she stood at the door, her hand poised to knock, fear and pride holding her back.

Would she be out of line approaching him before he’d asked to see her?

Oh, what the heck. She rapped lightly a couple of times, then waited until an old man’s voice said, “Come in. It ain’t locked.”

Tammy turned the knob, then entered the large bedroom where a long, lanky man lay on the bed, his face craggy, his head of thick white hair propped up on several pillows.

“I…uh…” She bit down on her bottom lip, then pressed on. “I hope I’m not bothering you, sir. But I was eager to meet you, and I thought I’d introduce myself.”

“You must be Tammy, William’s daughter.”

She admitted she was, then eased closer to the bed. “How did you know who I was? There are three of us girls here.”

He gave a little shrug. “I have my ways of keeping tabs on my boys and their families.”

So what exactly did he know about them? Or, more specifically, about her?

“Don’t just stand there, girl.” He pointed toward the chair near his bed. “Have a seat.”

“All right.”

After doing as he asked, she decided to take the bull by the horns by coming right out and quizzing him about the family rift.

Before she could get the words out, he said, “You’re a pretty little thing, Tammy.”

No one had ever called her pretty before. Sure, they mentioned her expressive eyes and praised the color. But pretty? No way.

“You look a lot like your grandma did,” he said. “Her hair was dark like yours. And her eyes were nearly the same shade of blue.”

“Do you have any photographs of her?” Tammy asked, curious about the woman and wondering if her look-alike had really been pretty. “If you do, I’d like to see them.”

“I don’t have as many as I would have liked, but I’ll make sure you get at least one or two to keep.” He gazed at Tammy for a moment, and a slow, wistful smile crossed his face, softening the wrinkles. “Ella Rose was a tomboy, too.”

“A cowgirl, you mean?”

“I suppose so. But that little woman could turn a man inside out with a single smile. And it didn’t matter if she was wearing denim or silk.”

Tammy might have been more impressed with the woman’s skill as a cowgirl if she hadn’t just met a man who’d been able to turn her inside out with a smile.

“Your grandma died when the twins were in kindergarten,” Tex added.

The twins? She’d known her father had a brother, but she hadn’t realized they’d shared the same birthday. Dang. Didn’t twins have some kind of weird, psychic connection, even when separated at birth?

If so, then the one William Travis and Sam Houston Byrd shared must be faulty.

Before she could comment or press Tex for more details, a couple of light knocks sounded at the door.

Her grandfather shifted in his bed, then grimaced. “Who is it?”

“Mike Sanchez.”

Doc? Tammy’s heart dropped to the pit of her stomach with a thud, then thumped and pumped its way back up where it belonged.

“Come on in,” Tex said.

Thank goodness her grandfather issued the invitation because she couldn’t have squawked out a single word, let alone managed to get up and open the door herself.