Lone Star Diary

She needed no encouragement to keep ahead of him as they ran headlong through the woods, climbing, climbing back to the top of the small rise where they’d parked Luke’s pickup. Luke shoved her fanny up over the rocks, whirling around to return fire three times.

Frankie’s lungs were burning by the time they got to the top and her little beaded flats were in shreds. When the truck came into view they ran headlong, as the sharp rocks cut into Frankie’s unprotected feet. As she stumbled sideways, Luke jerked her up by the arm, then scooped her into his arms and ran the rest of the way carrying her.

Frankie clawed at the door handle of the truck, and when she got it open, Luke threw her onto the seat, scrambling in behind her. He moved so fast it seemed he had crawled over her, fired up the engine, slammed it into Reverse, rammed it back into Drive, and barreled away in one unbroken motion.

Three men charged into the clearing and Frankie threw herself back down on the seat when she saw the fat one raising the automatic weapon to his shoulder.

The rain of bullets spat against the chassis, sounding like the hail that had once damaged Frankie’s Mercedes when she’d been trapped in a sudden storm in the Austin traffic.

“Ah, dammit!” Luke cursed as they roared down the rutted road at breakneck speed. “There goes my paint job.”

Once they’d rounded the curve at the bottom and flown past Robbie’s old house, Frankie raised her head and peeked over the edge of the rear window. Above the cloud of dust raised by the pickup, she could see the Coyotes up on the hill, shrinking to the size of ants as they crabbed back up. “They’re leaving,” she said.

“No. They’re going for their vehicles to make chase.” Luke sounded calm as he pressed on at full throttle.

“Those guys…” Frankie was struggling for breath, “shot somebody back there. Why on earth didn’t you arrest them?”

“Let’s see.” Luke’s neck craned as he looked before executing a squealing turn onto the highway. “Five of them, not counting the one down, o’ course. One of me. Think a Texas Ranger’s badge means anything to those hombres?” His grimace said he found her more than a little naive. “Gotta know when to fold ’em…” His pause said he regretted informing her of this next, “…or end up being the ones down.”

Once they were speeding down the highway, from the seemingly endless cache of his jacket he produced a cell phone. He punched a button and started barking facts to the sheriff’s dispatcher. After an amazingly detailed description of the Coyotes and their vehicles, he broke off to ask Frankie where the ranch road intersected the highway, then told the dispatcher where the sheriff would be most likely to catch up with the Coyotes. When he was done, he handed the phone to Frankie. “Call your parents.”

“Are my parents in danger? Their place is over a mile away.”

“I don’t think it’s your parents’ property that interests these guys. As long as they stay inside, they should be safe. Call them.”

WHEN THEY GOT BACK to town, Luke drove Frankie back to Robbie’s house so she could change into dry clothes.

He, too, was soaked from crossing the river. The dampened leather of his boots squeaked as he walked her to the door. He checked his impulse to stare at her curves as she bent to work the old-fashioned key in the lock, but the fact that she was finely made registered anyway. “You sure you’re okay?” he said to compensate for ogling her.

“Yes. I think so. A little shook up.” Her nervous chattering on the way to town made him think it was more than a little.

“I’ve never been shot at before.” The lock gave and the door swung open on its creaky hinges. “Would you like to wait inside?”

Robbie Tellchick’s living room looked as if a bomb had gone off in it. Toys and books and discarded children’s clothes were everywhere. A pile of half-folded laundry obscured the sagging couch. Frankie grabbed up an armful of bibs and onesies and blankies to clear a space so Luke could sit.

“That’s okay.” He stopped her with a gentle hand, glad to have any excuse to touch her again. “I’ll stand.” He made a futile gesture at his soaked jeans.

“Of course.” She tucked a strand of bedraggled hair behind one ear. “I’ll only be a sec.” She dashed up the stairs.

ON THE SHORT DRIVE over to Main Street they fell quiet. The shot of adrenaline that had gotten them through the worst had dissipated, and now they both were processing their narrow escape…and each other.

He reached over and squeezed her hand. “It’ll be okay,” he said softly as he studied her face. “I’ll get ’em.”

Frankie broke her worried silence. “Will I need to go in and talk to the sheriff?”

“He’ll want to interview you. But I’ll be right by your side.”

Before she went inside the store, Frankie turned to him with a sudden thought. “You’re not going back out there?”

His eyes narrowed, as if he were concealing his intentions. “Not right away. Local law enforcement will be all over the place, looking for evidence. I’d appreciate it if you kept this incident to yourself for now. Are you okay with that?”

“Yes, but shouldn’t we tell Zack?” Her future brother-in-law was not the kind to let strangers tromp all over his land without calling them down.

“That’s who I intend to see first. You said he’s on duty?”

“Yes. I saw him in his uniform this morning.”

“Frankie…listen. This is not the right time, but I was thinking…” Luke lingered with a hand jammed in his pocket, and for the life of her, Frankie could have sworn this tough Texas Ranger had grown suddenly shy. “I was thinking of what you said, about your birthday…”

“My birthday?”

“Yeah. I was thinking… Do you like the food at that little restaurant across the street?”

Frankie turned her head. “The Aggie? The Hungry Aggie?” Having lived in Five Points all her life, Frankie had a certain native affinity for the storefront diner. But its garish fifties-era red-and-green decor, its ancient ceiling fans coated with dust, and its scarred-up high-backed booths might not hold the same charm for everyone.

But Luke was studying the place with genuine interest. “Yeah. They serve dinner?”

“Absolutely.” It was hard to resist Virgil Parson’s cooking, even if you’d grown up eating it all your life. Now that Five Points drew in folks from along the Hill Country travel corridor, Virgil and his chuck wagon menu had become a tourist attraction. People drove from as far away as Austin to enjoy Parson’s most famous dish, the Darlin’, followed by a slice of his mouthwatering Texas cream pie. “Friday is Darlin’ night.”

“Darlin’ night?”

“Don’t let the name fool you. It takes courage to face down a Darlin’.”

She caught a twinkle in his eye. “Well, I’ve always got my gun.”

She kept her expression serious. “If you chicken out, there’s always the fried catfish.”

Luke looked up and down the curving Main Street. “I believe I am starting to like this place. So, you want to grab a bite to eat with me?”

The image of the wedding ring flashed into her mind, though she couldn’t see it with his hand jammed into the pocket of his Levi’s.

“I’m getting a room in town,” he explained when she didn’t respond. “I hate eating alone. Besides,” he continued offhandedly, “You said it was your birthday…” He paused. “And I believe you said it was not exactly a happy one. I’d love to be the one to cheer you up.”

“Mr. Driscoll—”

“Luke. It’s the least I can do after getting you shot at.”

“Luke, I…you’re married, right?”

His expression remained calm, except for a tiny frown line between his brows. He shook his head slowly, once. “I am not.”

“Oh.” This caught her off guard, as she had been assuming all along, much to her disappointment, she now realized, that he was. “But…you’re wearing a…isn’t that a wedding band?” She gave a nod toward the source of her confusion, still tucked in his pocket.

He slid his hand out and glanced at the ring as if he had forgotten it was there. His expression grew sad. “I’ve kept it on ever since my wife died. For reasons of my own.”

“Oh. You’re a widower?”

“Yes. And you said you’re in the process of getting a divorce. So. Free agents, both of us. Will you have dinner with me?”

Frankie didn’t really need to mull it over. For the past few weeks she had been eating spaghetti and tuna casserole and bologna sandwiches surrounded by Robbie’s rowdy boys. “On one condition.”

He raised that eyebrow again.

“You let me buy the pie.”

He smiled. For the first time since she’d met him, Luke Driscoll gave her a full-fledged smile. And Frankie found she liked that smile. A lot. “Around seven?”

“Six. Parson gets cranky if people keep him open too late. And we’ll want to get there before—”

“The pies are all picked over?” Ah-ha. Perhaps a hint of humor, after all. She was gratified when Luke Driscoll flashed her a smile one more time.

CHAPTER FOUR

Well, so much for shriveling up and becoming a boring old drudge. Doesn’t look like that’s going to happen. I’m suddenly too busy hiding the witness to a murder. Witnessing a shooting. Getting shot at! And as if all of that wasn’t crazy enough, I’ve accepted a dinner date with one very handsome man.

He’s the reason for all of this…for want of a better word…excitement. Luke Driscoll.

We’re meeting at six at the Hungry Aggie. I’m waiting at the store. I couldn’t see the point of having him drive over to Robbie’s house. I thought about going back there to change clothes, but wouldn’t that make it seem like a real date? Like I was trying too hard? Like I was really attracted to him?

Okay. I am really attracted to him. But this set-up is all wrong. I’ll feel better about the whole deal if I tell myself I haven’t actually accepted a date when I’m not even divorced yet.

Life is so weird.

Robbie has just left for the evening. We did get one wall papered despite all the upheaval, but I’m exhausted. I couldn’t wait to get Sissy and the baby packed off so I could jot down some of my thoughts in peace. This business out at the caves is scary. Luke told me not to discuss it, so I didn’t, but it was one long afternoon.

Now I’m perched up on this stool by the credenza, looking out at Main Street through the storefront window, counting down the minutes until six o’clock and wondering if I’ve lost my mind.

SHE SAW HIM striding up the sidewalk toward the restaurant at six sharp. He chopped a hand up in a wave when he saw her stepping out of the shop.

He stood outside the door of the restaurant while a pickup rattled past on the brick pavers. Frankie fiddled with the balky old door of the Rising Star and finally got it locked.

She smiled nervously at him as she crossed the street, pulling her leather jacket snug over her breasts. His gaze was so steady that she wasn’t sure if it was the January wind giving her the chills or those eyes.

At an altitude of twenty-five hundred feet, Five Points was cool at night, even in summer. But this evening was especially dark and wintry, with the stars emerging big and bright. The warm, mouthwatering scent of Parson’s grill drifted out into the cold air and the golden glow of the interior lights highlighted the profiles of diners and beckoned more in.

Luke held the door for her. Several heads turned the second she stepped inside. Frankie hadn’t counted on this, how it would feel, being seen when she was with a man not her husband. She had forgotten how thoroughly parochial Five Points could be. None of the regulars at the bar smiled at her—or Luke—as his tall frame ambled past their backs on the stools. They stared, first sidelong at the couple, then shiftily at one another, then back down at their platters of chicken-fried steak.

“Friendly town,” Frankie mouthed at Luke as she unwound the silk and mohair scarf from her neck and slid her arms out of the sable-brown leather jacket that was not typical attire in the Hungry Aggie. Her little sister even wore overalls to work sometimes, for heaven’s sake.

Luke winked, grinning at her as they settled into the booth.

She was suddenly glad she hadn’t been overly fashion-conscious when she’d changed out of her wet clothes earlier. She had been in a rush to get back downstairs so she’d grabbed loafers, a pair of stretch corduroys and a V-neck argyle sweater. Thank goodness it was a conservative outfit that said, This isn’t a date. And it certainly isn’t, she reminded herself. It’s more like an act of pity…on his part.

But what shone in Luke’s eyes now was not pity.

She avoided his gaze by smiling up at Nattie Rose Neuberger, who skated by with a tray of blue-plate specials and big eyes at Luke.

The waitress, a buddy of Robbie’s and notoriously nosy, was back in a flash. She had big, bottle-blond hair and party-bright makeup. Nattie Rose had been dark-haired in high school. Frankie wondered if a woman who was really a brunette under all that bleach still got to have more fun.

She censored herself for such catty thoughts. Was that another warning sign of bitterness? According to rumor, Nattie Rose had two beautiful daughters and a husband who was loyal as an old hound dog. Frankie had neither. Her sister Robbie liked Nattie Rose, and had found the woman a faithful ally during her recent trials. Frankie planned a big tip as penance for her petty thoughts.

“Well, hi, Frankie,” Nattie Rose chirped. “How’s things going over at the new store? I haven’t seen Robbie in a while.”

“Things are coming along really well, thanks.”

“You all have about got everything all cleaned up from the fire, then?” Nattie Rose snapped open menus and placed them in their hands. “That Robbie doesn’t let anything get her down, does she?” The waitress filled Frankie’s water glass from a sweating metal pitcher. “Did Robbie and Zack set the wedding date yet?”

“No, but it’ll be very quiet, as soon as the bluebonnets bloom.”

“Oh, I can understand that. There’s been enough gossip about those two already. Just family then?”

“I’m not sure how Robbie is going to do it. Uh…let’s see.” Frankie pretended to read the menu, not sure if her sister was going to invite Nattie Rose or not.

“The Darlin’s dee-licious tonight, o’ course.” Nattie Rose turned a hundred-watt smile on Luke as she poured water in his glass. “How do I know you, mister?”

“This is Luke Driscoll. Luke, this is Nattie Rose Neuberger. A friend of my sister’s.” Frankie offered belated intros, but was not going to play Nattie Rose’s game. If you engaged her, she’d take any scrap of information and weave a whole tapestry out of it.

“Nattie Rose Kline, actually. Frankie hasn’t seen much of me since I got married. You the Texas Ranger?” Nattie Rose’s mascara-caked eyes studied him avidly.

Luke’s eyes crinkled with a hidden smile when he caught Frankie rolling hers. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Heard about the shoot-out over there at Zack’s place.”

Frankie couldn’t imagine why they even bothered to print their pitiful little newspaper in Five Points. Here was Nattie Rose Live, ready to report. “Nattie Rose, could we have a couple of Oceans while we make up our minds?”

“Oceans?” Luke’s eyebrows raised in question.

Frankie grinned. “Iced teas big enough to drown your troubles.”

Luke shrugged. “When in Rome.” After Nattie Rose shot off he said, “She seems pleasant enough.”

“The town tattletale.”

Luke studied the waitress’s back at the tea station. “That might come in handy actually.”

Frankie thought it interesting, and admirable, the way he stayed focused on his job above all else.

“Just don’t channel anything to her that you don’t want the entire Hill Country to know.” Frankie kept her voice low.

His glance ticked sideways. “Incoming.”

Nattie Rose swooped back to the booth with two monster glasses of iced tea with lemon slices already squeezed in.

“Thank you, honey,” Frankie said, her inflection intentionally west-Texan. “I’d like the fried catfish. And this brave gentleman wants to try the Darlin’.” She handed over the menus.

But Nattie Rose didn’t take them just yet. She crossed her arms under her broad bosom and said, “This town has gone straight to hell, you know?” She shook her head sadly. “First it’s a couple of arsons and now it’s shoot-’em ups out in the hills. Is there any rhyme or reason to this crime wave?”

Luke’s eyes got that squint again. Frankie was getting used to it. Starting to like it, in fact.

“Can’t say, ma’am.”

Frankie liked the way he could speak the truth yet reveal absolutely nothing.

“But that’s why you’re here, isn’t it? To figure out why those Mexicans wanted Danny Tellchick dead. I hear you work over in Austin, specializing in nasty crimes.” Nattie Rose’s curious gaze traveled over to Frankie. “Or are you in town for other reasons?”

“Right now he’s here to eat.” Frankie shot her a bright smile that said, Off with you now, sweetie.

Nattie Rose reverted to being the congenial waitress. “You’re gonna want some of Parson’s Texas cream pie for later.”

“When in Rome.” Luke really did have a very charming smile.

“I’ll save you a big old slice.” Finally, Nattie Rose snatched up the menus and left.

Frankie wasted no time in starting her questions. “Did the sheriff apprehend those men?”

“Three of them. They’re down the street in the jail.”

“But the fat one?”

“No. Texcoyo’s on the loose.”

She released a disappointed breath.

Luke reached across the table and, very naturally, covered her hand with his big warm one.

Frankie automatically curled her fingers through his. She needed the contact. For all kinds of reasons.

“You can bet the farm on this.” He squeezed her fingers. “I will get that one.”

She nodded and leaned forward. Next question. “Any idea who it was they shot out there?”

“No. And the body’s gone.”

Frankie released his hand. “Gone?”

“The Coyotes probably moved it when they went to their vehicles.”

“Well for heaven’s sake, did the sheriff’s deputies look in the caves?” Frankie could not believe she’d gotten herself mixed up in such a mess. And she couldn’t believe that she wouldn’t back out now for the world. Because of him, she was sure. The man was just too fascinating.

He removed his Stetson and tossed it on the seat beside him, as if settling in for a long talk. He swept his dark, salt-and-pepper-tinged hair back. His forehead was high, a receding hairline, which did absolutely nothing to detract from his attractiveness.

“They found plenty of blood on the rocks,” he explained, “but no trail leading into the caves. I suppose it’s plausible that the guys who got away could have loaded him into one of the vehicles. The deputies took lights and looked in as far as they could. But it will take experienced spelunkers to get down that shaft. Caves are tricky. You could hit a streamway—a hole with another vertical shaft that drops to underground water—and fall hundreds of feet before you finally hit water and drown.”

Frankie nodded. These were the same dire warnings her parents had always given about the caves.

“But my guess is it’s going to take some doing to get this local sheriff off the dime and authorize hiring cavers.”

“Why, for heaven’s sake? A crime has been committed!”

Luke calmed her with a raised palm. “He’s going to act like it’s useless to pursue the activities of Coyotes,” he said quietly.

“Is this what you meant by local law enforcement dropping the ball? What is this thing you do in Austin, this special unit?”

“It’s called the Unsolved Crimes Investigation Team.”

“Unsolved crimes?”

“Murders, mostly.”

“Like the girl on the border?”

“The list seems to be growing around here.”

The image of the man being shot flashed into Frankie’s mind and she closed her eyes to shut out the horror. “I have witnessed a murder.” Her voice was barely a whisper. She gulped her tea.

“Listen, Frankie.” He leaned across the table, his hand almost touching hers again. “I’m placing you and your family under my protection. I don’t know what the connection is yet, but too many leads come back to the McBrides, or to that land out there, for me to ignore it.”

“Surely you don’t think my family is mixed up in any of this?”

“No. I’ve checked you out. Your father’s side has been farming in this area since the pioneer days. Your mother was a Hess, German immigrant stock.” He continued a litany of facts.

“You and your two sisters were raised like boys on that farm out there, singing in the church choir and babysitting for the neighbors. You, the oldest sister, married a doctor right out of nursing school.”

Frankie rolled her eyes at that one. Would that she hadn’t.

“Your middle sister, Robbie, who was widowed when her husband died in a barn fire last spring, has three boys and a new baby. Your youngest sister, Markie, gave a child up for adoption when she was seventeen, and went on to become a wildcat political consultant. Now the story gets interesting. She recently married congressman Kurt Kilgore’s son Justin, right after the two of them were reunited with their full-grown son. They’ve set up house, running that place out there.” He jerked his head in the general direction of the Light at Five Points. “And ever since they’ve had a little bad blood with Congressman Kilgore.”

“He doesn’t approve of Justin’s work,” Frankie confirmed. “He didn’t even come to their wedding.”

“Funny how the congressman keeps cropping up in this deal.”

“He’s not one to be messed with.” Frankie’s voice grew quiet.

“Neither am I.” Luke’s was quieter.

Frankie’s eyes widened. Was this guy really willing to go after Kurt Kilgore? The congressman had a reputation. A mean one.

“I like to get to the bottom of things.” Luke was still looking at her levelly. “There’s a little more about you.”

“Me?” Frankie quailed at the idea that this investigator had looked into her background. Although there was nothing to hide, unless you counted Kyle’s indiscretions, damn him.

Kyle was no longer her problem, she reminded herself. And because he’d broken their covenant, she felt free to be with the man sitting before her. A Texas Ranger. One who’d checked her out. She should have known.

Somehow she’d imagined they’d get acquainted in the normal way. That is, a little at a time, with each of them conveniently hiding the parts of their lives that were less than flattering.

“I assume you and the successful surgeon are splitting up on account of he’s a sneaky creep who’s been boinking his little nurse.”

“Oh. That.”

“Yes. And a few other useless details. You happen to be a nurse, too, but you haven’t practiced in a clinical setting in years now. You buy a new Mercedes every three years. You spend more money on your poodle than most people do on their kids.”

Frankie’s cheeks, inexplicably, burned. Maybe it was the way he’d just thrown out Kyle’s affair so casually. Or maybe it was the implication that she lived the life of a spoiled rich woman. What business was it of his how much money she spent on her pet? But she supposed it would sound really lame to explain that little Charm had health issues, that the steroids to treat the poodle’s grass allergy alone cost a fortune. What was she supposed to do? Let the poor little thing scratch her hide off? “Do go on,” Frankie allowed herself a haughty tone. Or was it defensive?

“You hire an illegal alien as a housekeeper, another to cook, another as a gardener. And you always pay them in cash.”

Now Frankie’s cheeks really burned. “How did you find out such a thing?” She hoped her tone still sounded haughty. Surely he couldn’t have delved into her medical records, the miscarriages, the counseling.

“I can find out where you go to church, the name of your country club, where—and when—you drop your dry cleaning, how many long-distance calls you make, and how you spend your nights. But relax. You are boring, lady. Nothing in your background is germane to this case.”