скачать книгу бесплатно
“I think I can do what I want.”
“Naddy…”
“Ethel’s seventy-six and she doesn’t drive too bad, except she has trouble staying awake.”
“Okay. Okay.” Alex threw up her hands, knowing her grandmother was working her. “I’ll pay for your plane ticket.”
“What about Ethel? I don’t want to go alone.”
Alex gritted her teeth. “Okay. I’ll pay for Ethel, too.”
“You’re such a sucker.” Naddy laughed.
“I knew you were playing me from the start. You wouldn’t do laundry unless you were after something. And you’d better not crow too much or I’ll rescind the offer.” She paused. “Does Buck know you’re going?”
“No. You can tell him after I’m gone.”
Alex shook her head. “Oh, no. You tell him before you leave.”
“Honeychild.” Naddy put an arm around her shoulder and Alex caught a whiff of Ben-Gay. “Why do you always want that family connection to be there? It isn’t. I was a bad mother, a terrible mother. I admit that. Bucky has a right to hate me. I was young, stupid and had no idea how to raise a kid. He grew up the hard way, by himself with a string of step-daddies.”
Alex had heard this a million times and Naddy wasn’t getting around her by using that bad-mother routine. “All the same, you’ll tell him.”
“Did I say you were a sucker? Crafty is more like it.”
“I’ll be upstairs,” she said, walking away.
“Want to help with my laundry?”
“No, thanks,” Alex called, running up the stairs.
She laid the plastic bag with the comb on her dresser. In the morning she’d call a lab they used to run the test. She’d also call Helen so she could give a sample to see if Brodie was her son. One little test, but it could change a lot of lives.
That night she went to sleep seeing the bluest eyes in Texas.
THE NEXT MORNING she awoke to loud voices, which was reminiscent of her childhood. Evidently Naddy had told Buck she was going to Vegas. She didn’t bother going down. They’d yell and scream until one of them was out of breath.
She changed into jeans and a knit top. She brushed her hair and clipped it behind her head. After applying the barest of makeup, she headed downstairs.
“Don’t think I’m paying for this crazy trip!”
“I never asked you for a dime.”
“Yeah, right.”
Alex walked between Buck and Naddy. “Good morning, all. Think I’ll get my coffee on the way to work.” With her hand on the doorknob, she looked at her father. “Is the air fixed?”
“I had to work on the damn thing myself and I got it going for now. Bert’ll fix it this morning.”
“Really? The old push method didn’t work?”
Buck glared at her. “Don’t start with me. I’ve already had it with Naddy. Going to Vegas. That’s insane.” He pointed a finger at his mother. “Don’t come back to this house with a man in tow. That’s all I got to say.”
“Bucky, you take all the fun out of life.”
“Don’t call me Bucky.”
“I had those teeth fixed, didn’t I?”
Buck slammed out the door and Alex stared at her grandmother. “This certainly isn’t the Cleaver household.”
Naddy chuckled. Alex used to sit for hours watching reruns of Leave It To Beaver, wishing she had a mother like June and a father like Ward. How unrealistic was that? Not to mention outdated.
“More like a soap opera,” Naddy muttered.
Alex only grinned. “When are you leaving?”
“Ethel’s daughter is dropping her off and we’re taking a cab to the airport.”
“Be careful.” Alex hugged her.
“If I was careful, I wouldn’t have any fun.”
Alex smiled on her way out the door.
Buck wasn’t in the office so she didn’t know where he was, but at least the air was working. She called the lab to set up the DNA test. She dropped the comb off and called Helen, who was eager to help by giving her DNA. Now they waited.
As Alex worked on other cases, she kept thinking about Brodie. Maybe someday she’d have the opportunity to apologize for stealing his comb.
BRODIE WOKE UP to quiet, like always. That’s the way he wanted it. His friends called him a people person because he acted outgoing on the rodeo circuit, but he was really a loner. He enjoyed the peace and the quiet. Maybe that had something to do with age, too.
When he was younger, partying was in his blood. The more people around him, the better he liked it. Today life was more sedate and that suited him. He was comfortable with his life choices, but he’d probably always regret the rift with his parents. At least they’d tried to work through it as a family. That was important to him.
He showered and slipped into jeans. After shaving, he reached for his comb, but it wasn’t there. He looked in the drawer, then the cabinet. The comb had disappeared. He’d had it yesterday when he’d combed his hair to go see his mother. That was the last time he’d seen it.
No one had been here, not even the cleaning lady. So what could have happened to it? Wait a minute. The lady in the Jeep had used his bathroom. Could she have taken his comb? What the hell would she want it for? It didn’t make any sense, but he was becoming increasingly intrigued. Why would Alex Donovan steal his comb?
Next time he would be more careful who he let use his bathroom. It was a comb, less than five bucks so what did it matter? Sometimes girls who followed the rodeo circuit would steal an item that belonged to a cowboy they had a crush on just to have something to connect them. But Alex didn’t seem like a groupie and she hadn’t come on to him. She was friendly, that’s all.
So what was going on?
Finding another comb, he finished dressing and headed for the barn. He saddled his horse, Jax, a thoroughbred quarter horse he’d gotten from Colter, who raised them. With the dogs trotting behind him, he checked the herd and all the water troughs to make sure the cattle had water in the searing heat.
Riding gave him peace and he enjoyed the movement, the rhythm, even the sun on his face and the calluses on his hands. He knew who he was—a cowboy in control. As his boots touched soil again the comb business nagged at him.
Suddenly he wanted to find the lady in the Jeep—Alex.
Chapter Three
Brodie arrived at his mother’s around ten. Propped up in bed, his petite, fragile mother looked pale yet she seemed much better than yesterday. Cleo fussed about, fluffing pillows and straightening the bed linens.
“Brodie, my son,” Claudia said. “I’m sorry I scared you yesterday.”
He sat in a Queen Anne chair, his hat in his hand, feeling out of place. “How are you today?”
“Much better.”
“She should,” Cleo said. “I’ve been waiting on her hand and foot. You know you’re not helpless, Claudie.”
Cleo was the antithesis of his mother—she was strong, resilient and resourceful. But Claudia, her older sister, was her Achilles’ heel.
“Cleo, please. I don’t want to argue today.”
“Me, neither. And I don’t plan on staying in every night, Claudie, so get used to it.” Cleo winked at Brodie. “How about a cup of coffee, cowboy?”
“I’ll settle for iced tea.”
“You got it.”
After Cleo left, Brodie searched for the right words and knew there weren’t any. He carefully placed his hat on his knee. “Mother, you can’t expect Cleo to stay home all the time. She’s sixty-four and enjoys her friends.”
“Men friends, you mean.”
“Whatever.”
“She’s been married three times and has absolutely nothing to show for it. You’d think she’d appreciate a roof over her head.”
He grabbed his hat and stood in a quick movement because he was about to lose every ounce of patience he’d been blessed with. “Cleo is not your personal slave and she has a right to her own life, whatever that might be.”
“You always take her side.” Claudia sank farther into the pillows with a hurt expression.
“It’s not about sides, Mother.” He raked a hand through his hair. “Tell you what. I’ll check in to getting someone to stay here when Cleo is out. That way it will be easier for both of you.”
“You know you remind me of your father when you do that?”
“What?” He was disconcerted for a moment.
“Your father. Tom always ran a hand through his hair when he was agitated. His hair was dark and thick like yours.”
She talked as if he didn’t remember his father, but he remembered him very well. When his father crammed a hand through his hair, Brodie quickly disappeared. That meant a stern lecture was about to ensue.
He shook the thought from his mind. “Mother, did you hear what I said?”
“I don’t want a stranger in the house. Why can’t you stay with me?”
That took the air right out of his chest. He and his mother weren’t close. They’d been estranged for a lot of years. When he’d left college, his father had told him to never come back home, that neither he nor Brodie’s mother supported his decision to ride professionally. And Brodie was no son of theirs if he chose that life. His mother was always the buffer between Tom and Brodie, but this time she stood stoutly behind her husband’s decision.
He knew they thought he would change his mind and they had to be united and strong in their stance. Somewhere inside him he found the courage to walk out the door, realizing he was leaving his childhood behind but hoping to find the man he was supposed to be.
The first two years he had no contact with them at all, then he called home one Christmas. That started periodic phone calls, which usually ended with his mother begging him to stop the silly foolishness of the rodeo. His father’s words were always terse. When his father had attended the national finals, they’d finally made their peace. He accepted that Brodie was different than him.
After his father had died and Claudia had moved to Dallas, he and his mother started building a new relationship. Talking to his mother for any length of time had always been a chore for him. The conversation always came around to his choices in life and how bad they were.
Hours with her could make him old before his time. But she was his mother and he loved her. A few hours weren’t going to kill him. Guilt was a powerful thing. It turned cowboys into sissies.
“It’s not like you have a wife or anything,” Claudia said at his hesitation.
“I have a ranch to run. It’s very time-consuming.”
“I never understood your interest in cows and horses. I thought you would outgrow it.”
He clamped his jaw tight. “No, Mother. That’s not going to happen.”
“I see that now.”
An awkward pause followed.
Claudia tied the bow on her bed jacket. “I am proud of your success, though. Your father was, too.”
“Really?” He didn’t quite believe that.
“Of course we were. It was just hard for us to accept your lifestyle.”
“You make it sound like I was into some sort of deviant behavior.” He clenched a fist to keep his cool.
She looked directly at him. “Why do you get so angry when we talk?”
“Maybe because you criticize.”
“Do I?” Her green eyes feigned innocence. “I don’t mean to.”
Brodie had had enough conversation. “It’s after ten. Aren’t you getting up today?”
“In a little while. Those spells take so much out of me and some days it’s just taxing to get out of bed.”
“Getting upset doesn’t help.”
“I know. I’m just a lonely old woman.”
The guilt bored into his chest like the horn of a bull. He bit the bullet and said, “I’ll stay with you when Cleo goes out.”
Claudia smiled. “Thank you, darling.”
He drew a deep breath. “But, Mother, we have to talk about your fear of being alone.”
She shifted uneasily in the bed. “You know I’ve never liked to stay by myself and ever since your father died it’s gotten worse. I know it’s irrational, but I can’t help it.”
“Maybe you need to get out more.” Recently she hadn’t been involved with her social functions.
