The Texan's Secret

“Avoid that Hardin boy who’s the foreman. He could be trouble.”

“I don’t plan on talking to any of the cowboys.” A Hardin was the last person she wanted to meet.

“Don’t you let me down.”

Shay clicked off with the words ringing in her ears. They epitomized her whole life. Her mother had probably started saying them to her in the crib. Where most kids had cereal for breakfast, Shay had been spoon-fed guilt. She did not have a Cosby kid’s childhood. It was more like a Hallmark afternoon special.

But today she was going to make up for a lot of that.

By doing exactly what her mother wanted.

What was she doing? Shay’s mind reeled with unsettling thoughts, and she misjudged the distance to her purse. Her cell phone fell to the floor. Reaching for it, she turned the wheel too far, and the car slid off the road. Quickly overcorrecting, she glanced up and saw a silver truck heading straight for her. She jerked the wheel and the car left the road and barreled across a bar ditch, through a fence, and kept going.

She screamed when a tree came out of nowhere. Frantically, she jammed her foot on the brake, and the car spun, her head hitting the wheel. A searing pain shot through her, followed by a soft white light and then darkness.

CHANCE PULLED OVER to the side of the road and jumped out, poking 911 into his cell. He gave his name, location and a few details. The wind tugged at his hat, so he threw it into the backseat.

The operator told him there was a bad wreck on US 290 and that all available ambulances were en route there. She said she’d send one as soon as she could. As they spoke, Chance paused briefly on the shoulder of the road and took in the situation. The car had crashed through a fence, grazed a tree and was resting in the creek.

“Can you see anything?” the dispatcher asked.

“Yes. The car is in Crooked Creek.”

“I’ve notified the volunteer fire department in your area and the constable. Help is on the way. Check and see if anyone is injured.”

Clutching his phone, Chance ran down the slope and leaped over the ditch. Please, not another wreck on a dreary March day, was all he could think.

“A small Chevy is slowly taking in water,” he reported to the dispatcher. He stepped into the creek to take a closer look. “Only one person in the car—a woman. Her head is resting against the steering wheel.”

“Does she have on her seat belt?”

Chance peered inside. “Yes.”

“Air bag inflated?”

“No.”

“Do you see blood?”

“No. But there’s water on the floorboard and it’s rising.” His eyes shifted to the front of the car. “Steam is coming from under the hood, but I expect that’s from the hot motor hitting water.”

“Yes, probably. Can you open the door?”

“Just a sec.” Shoving his cell into his jeans pocket, he grabbed the handle and yanked on it. “No. It’s jammed and the water is holding it tight,” he said, anxious moments later. The wind whipped the water against his legs and tousled his hair. His efforts on the door made the car inch farther into the creek.

Damn!

Memories beat at him. His mother’s blonde hair covered in blood flashed through his mind. Chance hadn’t been able to save her. But he would save this woman.

“Do you hear a siren?”

“No. Not yet.”

“Try the other doors.”

He did as instructed, but none would open. “They won’t budge, and the water is rising. It’s up to her waist. Where in the hell is everyone?”

“An ambulance has been rerouted from US 290, but that’s twenty miles away. High Cotton is one of those remote communities we have problems with, but the fire department should be there.”

“They’re not.” Chance bent and gazed in at the unconscious woman again. Her blonde hair was long and the tips were now touching water. “This lady doesn’t have a lot of time.”

“Okay. I just heard from High Cotton’s fire chief. They’re having trouble with the truck.”

“Damn.” They were always having problems with that old fire engine. They’d been having fundraisers for a new one and had applied for a grant from the state of Texas to help with the cost. But this lady needed help now.

“Just stay on the line.”

“I’m not going anywhere, but this car is filling up fast.”

“Okay. Do you have anything to break a window?”

“I have a crowbar in my truck.”

“Get it, and wait for instructions.”

Gulping a breath, he ran back to his truck for the implement, then sloshed back into the creek to the stranded vehicle. “Now what?” he asked, though he already knew the answer.

“Break the driver’s side window, but be careful.”

Switching to speakerphone, he placed his cell on the roof of the car, then looked inside again. The driver was still out cold, leaning toward the right, that was good. She was farther away from the door.

With one swing, he shattered the window. Luckily, it broke into a sheet of tiny cubes and he was able to break it away from the frame. Pieces of glass fell into the water and others dropped into the car. As he worked, sweat rolled down his face despite the relentless wind.

“It’s done,” he said.

“Check and see if she has a pulse.”

He brushed her long hair aside and felt the smooth skin of her neck. A faint rhythm beat against his fingers and he let out a long breath. “Yes, she’s alive.”

“No help yet?”

“No, and the wind is not helping. The car is not stable.”

“Can you get her out?”

Chance took another deep breath. “I’ll try.”

“Just be sure to brace her neck.”

After making sure there were no jagged glass edges left in the window frame, he reached in, stuck his hand in the water and felt for her seat belt. It made a swishing sound as it slid back into its holder. With a grunt, he grasped her under her armpits and tugged, maneuvering carefully to pull her through the window. The buoyancy of the water helped. At one point the car swayed, and he held his breath.

Finally clear, Chance braced her head on his chest and dragged her away, leaving a wet trail in the mud.

He gently laid her on the grass. While supporting her neck, he managed to struggle out of his wet shirt and stuff it under her head. Then he hurried back for his phone.

“What’s happening? Can you hear me?” he heard the dispatcher calling.

“I have her out on the creek bank.” He knelt beside the unconscious woman. “She has a slight gash on her forehead.”

“Is she bleeding?”

“Not much.” He glanced toward the sky and saw the dark thunderclouds gaining force. “Where in the hell is that ambulance? It’s fixing to rain.”

“Stay calm.”

“Listen, this woman needs to get out of the weather.”

“Check her arms and legs to see if anything is broken.”

He ran his hands over her limbs. “Doesn’t seem to be and I can’t see any more blood.” He made a quick decision. “I’ll take her to the Southern Cross ranch a mile down the road. Route the ambulance there.”

“They’re about ten minutes away.”

Raindrops fell on his hand. “We don’t have ten minutes.”

“Okay. Just be careful with her neck.”

“I will.” Losing no time, Chance shoved his phone into his back pocket again and gingerly scooped her into his arms, making sure her head was braced against his shoulder. As he started toward his truck, he heard a swooshing sound and turned to see the car submerged in the water, with only the roof showing.

Staggering in his wet boots and jeans, he climbed onto the road and hurried to the vehicle. After depositing her on the passenger side, he repositioned his shirt beneath her head, then tilted the seat back. Blood covered her forehead, but the gash had stopped bleeding. Her skin was pasty white and her hair seemed to be everywhere.

He fished his phone out of his pocket. “Thanks for your help. We’re on the way to Southern Cross.”

“The woman was lucky to have you around. Good luck. The ambulance should be there shortly.”

As soon as he clicked off, the cell buzzed again. It was Walker, the constable. Finally.

“Hey, Chance. I’ve been at the courthouse in Giddings and I just got the news about the wreck. How’s the driver?”

Chance glanced at her. “She’s still out and I’m taking her to Southern Cross. The volunteer fire department sure didn’t help.”

“Henry couldn’t get the truck started. It’s time the community did something about that or we’re going to have a major fire and the whole town is going to suffer.”

“Yeah.” Chance snapped the woman’s seat belt into place and ran around the truck, his boots sloshing. He crawled into the driver’s seat, still talking to Walker. “Maybe this will encourage everyone in High Cotton to get behind the project.”

“We can only hope. I’m on my way.”

Within minutes Chance rolled into the driveway of the ranch. He called Renee, Judd’s mother, to announce his arrival with a casualty.

Renee opened the door at once. “Oh, good heavens, come in,” she said as he carried the patient up the steps. Thunder rumbled in warning and heavy rain began to fall. He’d made it just in time.

“My boots and jeans are wet and muddy, Renee,” Chance said apologetically.

“Not a problem! I can clean up a little mud,” she said.

Chance wiped his boots on the mat as best he could, then carried his load inside. Renee spread sheets on the sofa in the den and he gingerly laid the unconscious woman on them.

“What happened?” Renee asked, glancing from one bedraggled figure to the other.

“She ran off the road into Crooked Creek and I had to pull her out. I’ve already called 911 and Walker.”

“Good heavens.”

Chance pointed to the woman’s face. “She has a cut on her head.”

“I’ll get some supplies.”

As Renee hurried away, the woman stirred. “Oh, o-o-oh.”

“Lie still,” Chance instructed. “You’ve been in an accident.”

Renee came back and cleaned the cut with warm water and applied a bandage. “That should hold you until the paramedics arrive.”

Their patient looked around and Chance noticed her eyes were green, a startlingly brilliant color. The kind of eyes that caught a man off guard with their intensity and beauty. She was pretty, too, with a pert nose, clear classic features and gorgeous blond hair streaked with a lighter color he was sure was artificially produced. Definitely not a country girl. She had a big city look about her, and he wondered what she was doing around here.

“Where am I?” Shay blinked, feeing disoriented.

Someone patted her arm. “Don’t you fret, sugar. You’re fine. The paramedics should be here soon.” It was a woman’s voice, sure and confident, with a Southern drawl.

Paramedics?

“You’re at the Southern Cross ranch,” a male voice said. Shay glanced up to see a handsome man with wet, disheveled hair staring down at her. His face was lean, his muscled body was showcased in a white T-shirt, tight jeans and cowboy boots. A cowboy? His eyes were like dark chocolate, tempting, sinful and good for her heart. Had she died and gone to heaven, and was he her reward for putting up with all the crap in her life? Oh, he was a very good reward. Now she felt giddy and…

What did he say?

Southern Cross?

She tried to sit up, winced and lay back as pain ripped through her head. “What happened?”

“You were in an accident, sugar,” the woman said.

“You ran your car off the road into Crooked Creek,” the cowboy added.

Bits and pieces fitted together in Shay’s head like one of Darcy’s puzzles. “A silver truck was headed straight for me. I tried…”

“That was me, and I was on my side of the road.” His voice was deep and commanding, with a Texas accent much like Matthew McConaughey’s, but delivered with an edge of censure. That rankled, even if the sound set off unexpected waves of pleasure.

Shay narrowed her eyes, then winced. “You ran me onto the shoulder.”

“You did that all by yourself.”

“Now let’s don’t quibble.” The woman intervened, as if used to dealing with cantankerous children. “I’m Renee Calhoun and this is Chance Hardin, the foreman of Southern Cross.”

Renee Calhoun.

Chance Hardin.

Oh, no! This just wasn’t her day. The names settled in Shay’s stomach like sour milk. Now what should she do?

The woman who had broken up her parents’ marriage was a couple of feet away. Shay squinted at her. She seemed perfectly normal, dressed in a cream linen blouse and pants. Her dyed blonde hair hung like a bell around an attractive face. From her mother’s description, Shay had expected Renee to have horns and a tail, next-of-kin to the devil.

Maybe this was good luck, Shay thought. She had a foot inside the house, and soon, when she’d regained her equilibrium, she’d tell this hellish woman a thing or two.

The cowboy looked down at her with those dark, dark eyes and she resisted the urge to wriggle. What was he thinking? It was hard to tell, since the blackness of his eyes seemed to block out his emotions as if he were wearing sunglasses. Did he know who she was? Of course not. Shay was getting paranoid. She couldn’t think about Chance Hardin.

She looked around the room. Cathedral ceilings with wagon wheel chandeliers met her gaze. The walls were a rich mahogany done in a picture-framing style. Photos of Judd Calhoun, his wife and twin sons took pride of place. A huge stone fireplace covered one wall and was adorned with a rustic Texas star. A wedding photo of Renee and Jack Calhoun graced the intricately carved wood mantel.

Shay stared at the man—her father—and felt no emotion other than anger. How could she? She’d never known him. He’d kicked her mother out when he’d met Renee, his first wife, and wanted to remarry her. He didn’t even care that Blanche was pregnant.

For so many years Shay had dreamed of being here, inside Southern Cross, to get a glimpse of where she should have been raised. But oddly, and fittingly, she felt out of place. This wasn’t Huckleberry Lane, where she lived with her mother and Darcy.

Thoughts of the little girl filled her aching head. Darcy didn’t like being alone with Blanche, and Shay had to let her know she’d be back soon.

“May I have my purse, please?”

Renee and Chance exchanged a glance.

“It was in your car,” the cowboy said.

“I know. I need to make a call.”

“You don’t remember?”

“What?” Why was he talking as if she were five years old?

“After I pulled you out, the Chevy sank into Crooked Creek. I’m sure everything in your purse is ruined.”

Oh, no! She’d just paid off her car loan and now the vehicle was gone. A wave of regret washed over her. She should never have let Blanche talk her into this. Jack Calhoun was dead and nothing could change the past. Shay had to get out of here and fast.

“What’s your name, sugar?” Renee asked in a kind, soothing voice. Shay hated that.

Spit fire or something. Please don’t be nice. She caught the cowboy’s eyes. Chance Hardin’s concerned gaze was doing a number on her resolve. And her conscience.

“Shay,” she replied, her voice low.

“How pretty.” Renee patted her arm again. “For a pretty young lady.”

For some reason tears stung the back of her eyes. Her mother had never called her pretty or ever paid her a compliment. The gesture coming from Renee Calhoun was almost too much, on top of everything else that happened on this horrendous day.

“Thank you,” she managed to answer, before the sound of a siren startled her. “What’s that?”

“An ambulance. You need medical attention. I’ll open the front door.”

Renee walked away and Shay stared at Chance. She didn’t have any choice but to enlist his help—a Hardin’s help. Why did he have to be here?

“Please, I’m fine. I don’t need an ambulance.”

“You probably have a concussion.”

She forced herself to sit up.

He practically leaped to her side. “Whoa. You shouldn’t have done that.”

She frowned, which made her head hurt that much more. “What?”

“You shouldn’t have sat up until the paramedics arrived.”

“I’m fine, really.” Brushing her hair from her face, she wondered what had happened to her hair clip. And she realized for the first time that she was wet. Damn! Chance must have saved her life. Just what she needed—more guilt. Forcing negative thoughts aside, she appealed to him. “I don’t have health insurance and I can’t afford an ambulance or a hospital bill.”

The candor in her voice got to Chance—and the fear. What was she afraid of?

“I’m sure you can make payment arrangements.”

She laughed, a sound like a frightened child’s. “I don’t have any extra money and…” Her voice trailed off as two paramedics wheeled in a stretcher.

One medic checked Shay’s pulse and blood pressure, then took her temperature. Next he removed Renee’s bandage and studied the cut. “Doesn’t look bad,” he said as he applied ointment and another bandage.

“I’m fine,” Shay insisted.

The man shone a small penlight into her eyes and asked her to follow his finger.

While the paramedic continue to examine her, Chance moved away to speak to Renee. “She doesn’t have health insurance and doesn’t want to go to the hospital.”

“Well, hell, I’ll pay the bill,” the older woman offered. “She needs help.”

Shay overheard her and axed that idea immediately. “No. No. You’re not paying the bill. I’m fine. I’m not going to a hospital.”

Renee pulled Chance farther aside and whispered, “What do you have in mind?”

“Can she stay here tonight? I’ll get her a rental car first thing in the morning.”

“If the paramedics say she’s okay, I don’t see why not.”

The attendant stepped back with his hands on his hips. “It would be best to go to the hospital and get checked out.”

“I’m fine, really,” Shay replied again in that nervous tone.

“What do you think?” Chance asked the man.

“She can focus and her eyes are clear, so I suppose if she refuses to go we can’t make her. But if she grows dizzy or passes out, you need to get her to a hospital.”

“We will,” he promised.

The medic looked at Shay. “Stay awake for a while and see your doctor as soon as possible.”

“Okay.”

As the ambulance left, Renee said, “Well, it looks as if I have a houseguest. Just give me a few minutes and I’ll get you some dry clothes.” She hurried away, her shoes tapping on the hardwood floor.

Shay glanced at Chance, her eyes huge in her pale face. “Thank you.”

She managed to look coy, inviting and desperate all at the same time. His heart knocked against his ribs like a bronc about to be broken. “You’re welcome.” He swallowed hard, this unexpected attraction hitting him like a sucker punch. His next words came out terse. “What’s your last name? And your auto insurance company?”

“Excuse me?”

“I’ll make some calls for you so I can get you a rental in the morning. But I need information.”

She seemed to hesitate. “Stevens,” she finally answered. “But I’ll call my insurance company.”

Fear still tinged her voice, and Chance knew something wasn’t quite right. “Fine. You can use the phone in your bedroom.”

“Okay, but I really need to go home.”

A reasonable request. Maybe he was making something out of nothing. “You said you wanted to call someone?”

Shay chewed on a fingernail. “Yes. I’ll use the phone in the bedroom to check on my mother. She’s dying of lung cancer and a cousin takes care of her when I’m not there.”

Chance was taken aback at the turmoil in the young woman’s life, and against his better judgment he could feel himself being pulled into her problems. Before he could form a response, the doorbell rang.

He handed her his cell. “Call your mother. I’ll make sure you get home tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” Shay replied, quickly punching in a number as he walked to the door.

Walker stood on the threshold. “Is the woman okay?”

Chance stepped out onto the veranda. “She’s a little shaken up and refuses to go to the E.R.”

“The volunteer fire department is now at the site. Henry finally got the truck running. Since the rain is letting up, a wrecker is also there to pull the car out. I’m pretty sure it’s totaled.” The constable pulled his Stetson low to keep the wind from taking it, and glanced over Chance’s wet appearance. “Sorry you had to deal with that.”

Everyone knew of his parents’ deaths. It had happened on the same county road, closer to Giddings. Though only twelve, Chance had worked valiantly to get his parents out—but they were already dead.

“I’ve developed Teflon feelings,” he joked.

“Yeah, right.” Clearly, Walker didn’t believe him for a minute. “You get any information from her?”

“She said her name is Shay Stevens.”

Walker frowned. “That’s strange. The license plate must not have been secured properly, because I found it in the grass. I ran a check with the Department of Public Safety just in case she was still unconscious, and it’s registered to Shay Dumont from Houston.”

“Hmm.” Chance rubbed his jaw in thought. That name ran a bell, but he couldn’t place it. That niggling feeling returned. The lady wasn’t who she said she was. He felt a moment of regret. He was beginning to like her. Now he had some questions was determined to get answers—one way or another.

Who was she?

And what did she want in High Cotton, Texas?

CHAPTER TWO

CHANCE WENT UPSTAIRS to talk to Shay, but Renee was hovering around and he didn’t get an opportunity. He didn’t want Renee to think something was wrong, so he headed out the door for dry clothes and boots.

“Thank you for pulling me out of the car,” Shay said in a rush before he left. “Your cell is downstairs.”

“Thanks.” He turned to look at her. She sat on the side of the bed in a white fluffy robe of Renee’s. Nervousness, shock and fear flitted across her pretty face. What was causing her such anguish? He didn’t have time to figure it out. He had to get into dry clothes and check on the cowboys. Work awaited him and he had to go. Who are you? He planned to find out later when Renee wasn’t around.

Renee followed him to the kitchen. “I think I’ll fix her a bite to eat.”

“Missing the kids, huh?”

“You bet. I can’t wait for the twins to come home.”

Chance thought for a moment and asked, “Do you mind if I spend the night in the house? I’m a little leery of you being alone with a stranger.” He had a room at the bunkhouse, but that niggling feeling wouldn’t go away. He had brought the woman here and he had to make sure Renee was safe.

“What do you think?” Renee whispered. “That she’s going to murder me in my bed?”

He shrugged. “I just have a strange feeling. That’s all.”

“Then by all means, sleep in the house.”

“Thanks. I’ll be back later.”

When he returned the woman was asleep in a guest room. Should she be sleeping? It had been almost two hours since the medics left, so he supposed it was okay. The light was on and she was curled up in bed with a wistful expression on her face, blonde hair all around her. She was probably the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Why did they have to meet under these circumstances? This stranger was hiding something and he had to be on guard.

Walker dropped by later to talk to Shay about the accident. Chance told him she was asleep, and the constable said he’d come back in the morning. The car had been towed into Giddings, he reported, and he’d brought the sodden remains of Shay’s purse. Since it had been filled with muddy water, Walker had done his best to dry it out, but everything was ruined. The only thing legible on her diver’s license was her name— Shay Dumont.

Where had he heard that name before? Chance went to bed with it rattling around in his head, and again he vowed to get answers.

At six he woke up, slipped into his jeans and a T-shirt and headed downstairs to make coffee. Since the Calhouns were gone, the housekeeper was on vacation, too. His plan was to carry a cup to the woman and talk.