A South Texas Christmas

Neil’s hand slipped upward until he was cupping the side of her neck. Raine felt goose bumps dance along her arms.

“I wouldn’t be averse to making that part of our story true,” he whispered huskily. “What about you?”

Her jaw fell. “Is this what you call behaving like a gentleman?”

“I am being a gentleman, Raine. Otherwise you’d already be in my arms. Like this.” He tugged her forward and Raine was shocked to find herself clamped tightly to the front of his body. She squirmed in an attempt to escape the circle of his arms, but the movement only made things worse. His body was hard as a rock and she could feel the softness of her own curves gladly yielding to every inch of him.

If he kissed her again, she desperately feared she would go up in flames.

Dear Reader,

Several books ago, when I first began spinning tales about the Ketchum family, I was particularly drawn to their lifelong friend and attorney Neil Rankin. Through thick and thin, he’s the kind of guy who remains steadfast and devoted to his friends, and the sort that will tell them the truth of the matter, even when it hurts. His lonely heart cried out for that special woman, and while he travels all the way to a south Texas ranch to find her, he also uncovers a startling secret about the Ketchums that will change his life—and theirs—forever.

Christmas is a gift for love and hope, and Neil is lucky enough to experience both while he’s in south Texas. As for me, my family and I are blessed to enjoy the yuletide season here on the coast with balmy weather, homemade tamales, parades of shrimp boats decked with lights and Santa on a riding lawn mower!

God bless and Merry Christmas, y’all!

Stella

A South Texas Christmas

Stella Bagwell

www.millsandboon.co.uk

STELLA BAGWELL

sold her first book to Silhouette in November 1985. More than fifty novels later, she still loves her job and says she isn’t completely content unless she’s writing. Recently, she and her husband moved from the hills of Oklahoma to Seadrift, Texas, a sleepy little fishing town located on the coastal bend. Stella says the water, the tropical climate and the seabirds make it a lovely place to let her imagination soar and to put the stories in her head down on paper.

She and her husband have one son, Jason, who lives and teaches high school math in nearby Port Lavaca.

To my late mother, Lucille.

Like the Christmas star, you will

always glow in my heart.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter One

Could this photo be the answer to her prayers?

Only moments before, Raine Crockett had picked up the latest issue of the San Antonio Express with plans to scan the news before she got down to the business of her daily schedule at the Sandbur Ranch. But the paper had slipped from her hand and scattered across the floor, exposing a grainy black-and-white picture wedged among the classifieds. Now, she was still staring at the miracle in her hands, wondering if it might finally lead her to the truth about her mother’s past—and the identity of her father.

“Knock, knock.”

Her friend’s breezy voice had Raine jerking her head up and snapping the paper shut at the same time.

Nicolette Saddler, a member of the family that owned the Sandbur, was like a sister to Raine. This morning she desperately wanted Nicci’s advice.

“Thank God you stopped by! I want you to look at something.”

Nicolette glanced at the small watch on her wrist. “Sorry, Raine. I don’t have time. I have thirty minutes to get to the clinic. I just stopped by to ask you to let Cook know not to set a place for me this evening. I’m going to be working late.”

Not willing to let Nicci get away that easily, Raine jumped to her feet and grabbed Nicolette by the arm.

“Raine! I said I don’t have time! What—” Her exasperated expression turned curious as she watched Raine shut the door behind her. “What in the world is this about—” She paused as her medical training took over. “You look almost green. Are you feeling ill?”

Raine’s hair swished against the tops of her shoulders as she shook her head. Normally she was a quiet, serious-minded young woman, a bookkeeper who kept her nose stuck in the incoming and outgoing invoices of the Sandbur. It wasn’t like her to get emotional. But the photo had filled her with hope and excitement.

“I’m not sick!” Raine’s office was inside the Saddler family’s ranch house where anyone, especially her mother, might be passing by, so she spoke in a hushed voice, “I want you to look at this.” She jerked open the paper and thrust it at Nicolette.

A deep frown marred the woman’s forehead as she scanned the paragraphs beneath the photo.

“What do you think? Could it be my mother?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. This was taken years ago. Lord, look at that big hairdo! And the dangling earrings! Your mother wouldn’t be caught dead looking like that now. Still—” She paused. “I have to admit, it does resemble her.”

Another burst of optimism surged through Raine, in spite of her attempt to stem it. This photo was probably just another of one missing person among thousands. And Raine’s mother wasn’t actually lost. She was living here on the ranch, safe and sound, just as she had been for the past twenty-some years. It was Esther Crockett’s past—and all her memories of Raine’s father—that had been lost.

Nicolette groaned. “Raine, I really don’t want to get into this.”

Raine understood why her friend didn’t want to get involved. Nicci didn’t want to encourage a search that would only cause deeper rifts between Raine and her mother. Well, Raine didn’t want another fight with her mother, either. But she wanted—needed—answers, and as far as she was concerned, this photo was too important to simply toss in the trash.

“Am I crazy for thinking this might be Mother—before she lost her memory?”

Nicolette pointed to the brief information beneath the photo. “The woman went missing back in 1982. Why would anyone start searching now?”

“Maybe they’ve searched before—in other areas of the country. But just think, Nicci, the timing would be right. I was born that year, the year my mother lost her memory. And this woman does resemble Mother. I’m not crazy about that, am I?”

Nicolette’s expression changed to one of concern. “No, honey, you’re not crazy. But you’ve tried this before. By now you ought to realize what a long shot it would be for this—” she tapped the paper with her forefinger “—to be your mother in her younger days. This woman was obviously a glamour girl! Esther always looks like she just stepped out of a Victorian novel!”

Raine grimaced. It was true that Esther Crockett’s appearance was somewhat dowdy. And up until Raine had become an adult, Esther had also insisted that her daughter appear and behave in the same conservative fashion.

Little by little, Raine was doing her best to cut the thick ties her mother had used to restrict her all these years. But the separation wasn’t nearly fast enough to suit Raine. She was going to turn twenty-four next month. She was a grown woman now and she wanted to be her own person and live life her own way without fearing her mother’s disapproval. Most of all, she desperately wanted to find her father, even if her mother was dead set against the search.

“You’re right, Nicci. But Mother could have been different, before,” Raine argued on a hopeful note. “After all, she got pregnant with me. There must have been a man in her life.”

“True.” Nicci’s eyes were full of sympathy. “You really want to find your father, don’t you?”

Raine nodded as a hard lump of emotion collected in her throat. Ever since she’d been old enough to ask about her father, she’d been told there was no way of finding him. Esther didn’t remember that part of her life and, moreover, she refused to allow Raine to search for anything that might lead her to the man.

Blinking at the film of tears in her eyes, Raine said, “More than anything. What if I have brothers or sisters somewhere? I think about that all the time. It drives me crazy that Mother won’t talk about it or help me search.”

Shaking her head, Nicci handed the paper back to Raine. “Well, I guess there’s always a slim chance you could accidentally stumble onto some sort of genuine information here. But you’d be running a big risk in trying! The last time you did something like this—well, everyone on the ranch remembers how furious your mother was when she found out.”

Biting down on her lip, Raine paced around the room.

“You don’t have to warn me about Mother. We’ve had so many fights about this that, frankly, I’m sick of trying to reason with her.”

“What does that mean?” Nicolette questioned warily. “That you are going to call the number in the paper?”

Raine’s casual shrug belied her spinning thoughts. “Maybe—I don’t know yet.”

To hear her mother tell it, Raine should be more than content with her life. She had a nicely furnished office with an antique oak desk, leather chairs and a couch made of beautiful Corriente steer hide raised here on the Sandbur. Potted plants shaded the wide windows and an elaborate stereo system supplied her with music while she worked. She received a very adequate paycheck every week, plus plenty of benefits to go with it.

The accounting degree Raine had obtained two years ago was now paying off. Her job on the Sandbur was one that most any young woman would be envious of. She had a nice apartment in town and a social life, if she wanted it. But no matter how hard she tried, Raine couldn’t dampen the longing she had to find out about her mother’s past and her father, who had to be out there somewhere.

Nicolette nodded at the paper. “Why is an attorney instead of a private investigator taking the calls? Could be the woman in the photo is a criminal.”

Raine refused to consider that idea. “Then it couldn’t be Mother. She’s too straitlaced for that kind of past.”

Nicolette rolled her eyes. “Raine, you can’t know what kind of person Esther was twenty-five years ago! You could open up a nasty can of worms with this thing!”

Raine tightened her lips line. “You’re trying to discourage me.”

Nicolette threw up her hands in a helpless gesture. “I’m only trying to point out the downfalls. Especially if Esther discovers what you’re up to.”

Raine reached out and plucked the paper from her desk. “Maybe I can do this without her knowing about it. At least for a while.” Raine locked it away in the bottom drawer of her file cabinet.

“What are you doing that for?” Nicolette asked. “There are newspapers everywhere on this ranch, including your mother’s house. She’s probably already spotted the picture.”

“I don’t want anyone other than you knowing that I saw it.”

“I’m getting worried now! This isn’t like you! You don’t normally keep things from your mother. At least not something this important.”

Raine swiped the air with her hand. “Those are the key words here, Nicci. Something this important. This is my family we’re talking about—my father!”

Nicolette’s worried expression changed to one of resignation. “I know now how empty I would feel if I didn’t know who my father was. And I’ve always thought it strange that Esther doesn’t want to know who she used to be or where she came from. What woman in their right mind wouldn’t want to find the man that fathered her child?”

Nicolette’s question was one Raine had been asking herself for years now, but a reasonable answer had never come to her.

“I don’t understand it, either,” Raine said with a sigh. “I think she’s afraid. You just talked about opening a nasty can of worms. Well, I think that’s how your mother feels. But in my opinion, no one can truly step into the future if one doesn’t know her past.” Raine was no longer just talking about her mother.

As Nicolette left, Raine returned to her desk chair and dropped her head in her hands.

Oh, Mother, she silently wailed, why can’t you understand that I need to know who my father is before I can ever have a family of my own? It would all be so much easier if you would help me search for him rather than threatening to disown me if I even tried to look.

The shrill noise of the telephone jerked her back to the present and she cleared her throat to put on her best business voice. “Sandbur Ranch, business office.”

“Raine, it’s Matt here. I just wondered if you’d managed to find those vaccination papers on the bull we brought in yesterday? The vet will be here this morning. I need them.”

Raine shoved all thoughts of her mother and the newspaper article from her mind. “Sure thing, Matt. I have them right here. Would you like for one of the maids to bring them to your office?”

“Hell no!” the man barked in her ear. “Every damn time one of them shows up at the barn it takes me an hour to get the boys back to work and their minds on their business. I’ll come after the papers myself.”

“No need for that,” Raine quickly offered. “I can run them over to you.”

“Don’t even think it. You’re worse on the guys than the maids,” he said, then he hung up before Raine could make any sort of reply. Which wasn’t surprising. Matt Sanchez was all business and spent nearly every waking hour of his life making sure the cattle on the Sandbur were the best in Texas.

He was a good man to work for, as were the other family members who ran the Sandbur. For more than forty years, two sisters had made this ranch one of the best and biggest in south Texas. Elizabeth Sanchez and Geraldine Saddler had forged their families and succeeded in keeping the property prosperous by insisting that everyone work together.

Raine couldn’t help but be envious of the close-knit siblings and cousins. In good or bad times they were always there for each other. What must it feel like to be surrounded by loving relatives?

If you had the gumption to stand up to your mother and call that attorney, maybe you would find your own family.

The prodding little voice inside Raine’s head caused her gaze to swing to her file cabinet. Should she? Might the call lead her to her father?

Until she found the courage to pick up the phone, Raine could only wonder.

Later that same day in Aztec, New Mexico, Neil Rankin was about to step out of his law office to head to the Wagon Wheel Café for lunch when his secretary answered the phone.

Pausing at the door, he said, “I’m already gone.”

Scowling at him, Connie grabbed the receiver with one hand and held up the other in a gesture for him to wait.

“What did you say your name was? Miss—” She quickly scribbled on a pad, then pushed it around for Neil to read.

Darla’s photo!

Neil rolled his eyes. This past week he’d had more than a dozen calls pertaining to Darla’s photo and all the callers had been certified nut cases. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with another one. Not when his stomach was growling and the sheriff of San Juan County, who also happened to be a good buddy, was waiting to have lunch with him.

“Quito is already at the Wagon Wheel,” he mouthed to Connie. “Take the caller’s name and I’ll call back.”

Connie shook her head at him. “Of course he’ll speak with you, Ms. Crockett. Just a minute and I’ll transfer you to his personal line.”

With her palm tightly clamped over the receiver, she jabbed the phone in his direction. Neil cursed beneath his breath. He wasn’t a detective. He was a lawyer who normally dealt with simple cases like writing wills or reading abstracts. Dealing with inquiries about an ice cold missing persons’ case was not his style.

But Neil had taken on the task to help his childhood friend, Linc Ketchum. The rancher had gone without a word from his estranged mother for nearly twenty-five years. It had been only recently that Linc’s new bride had encouraged her husband to search for the lost woman.

As for Neil, he didn’t hold a lot of hope for finding Darla Carlton, but he was a man who stood by his promises and he’d assured Linc and Nevada that he wouldn’t stop looking until he’d turned over every stone on the path.

“This one sounds legitimate, Neil,” Connie said with a rush of excitement. “This is what you’ve been waiting for. I can feel it in my bones.”

“You’re going to be feeling something else in your bones if I plant my boot in your backside,” he warned jokingly, while silently hoping that Connie was right. He was getting mighty tired of all the false leads he’d gotten since this search for Linc’s mother had started.

Connie chuckled at her boss’s harmless threat. “You’re too much of a sweetheart to do something so mean, Neil. It’s why I’ve worked for you for the past ten years.”

Groaning, he grabbed the phone from his secretary’s plump hand. “Neil Rankin here.”

“Uh, this is Raine. Raine Crockett. I’m calling about the article you put in the paper—about the woman you’re searching for.”

The voice sounded light and sweet and young, and the thought quickly ran through his mind that a mischievous teenager might be on the other end of the line.

“Okay. Where are you calling from, Ms. Crockett?”

After a short pause she said, “The Sandbur Ranch. It’s located north of Goliad, Texas. Do you know where that is?”

There was an eager note in her question, as though she was hoping she’d found a transplanted Texan on the other end of the phone. The idea put a faint smile on Neil’s face. “Sorry, Ms. Crockett. I’ve only visited Texas twice in my lifetime and both times were to Dallas.”

“Oh. Well, I’m far from Dallas, Mr. Rankin. The ranch is about fifty miles south of San Antonio.”

The mention of the Alamo city caught his attention and he planted his hip on the corner of the desk while he picked up a notepad and motioned for Connie to hand him a pen.

“I see,” he said to the young woman. “So what prompted you to call me, Ms. Crockett? Do you know Darla Carlton or Jaycee?”

“No. At least, I don’t think so. I’m calling—well, to be honest, I’m not sure I should have called you at all. I could be wasting your time.”

“Don’t worry about it. No one else does,” he said with false cheeriness.

Connie frowned at him while he doodled on the notepad resting next to his hip.

“Okay,” the sweet voice replied. “I called you because the woman in the picture resembles my mother.”

Neil’s sandy-brown brows pulled together to form a line across his forehead. “Is your mother’s name Darla Carlton?”

“No.”

“Was she ever married to Jaycee Carlton?”

“No. Not that I’m aware of.”

“Is your mother missing?”

There was a long pause in his ear followed by a tiny sigh. The sound told Neil this woman was troubled and he realized he hated the idea. Particularly when she sounded so nice. But, hell, he could hardly help every troubled soul in the world. Even if she had the voice of an angel.

“If your mother isn’t missing, then you obviously know who she is and where she is, right?”

“Well, not exactly…”

Her words trailed away and Neil was surprised at the disappointment flooding through him. Something about this young woman had made him hope for her sake that she had a connection to Darla Carlton. But it didn’t sound as though that were the case.

“Look, Ms. Crockett, I’m sorry to cut you short, but I have a luncheon appointment. And I really don’t see any point in us continuing this conversation.”

He could hear a fierce intake of breath on the other end of the line and the next thing he expected was the sound of the receiver clicking the phone line dead. But that didn’t happen. Instead the young woman’s voice changed from sweet to clipped and cool.

“I’ve been waiting twenty-four years to find my mother’s lost identity, Mr. Rankin. Surely your lunch appointment can wait for five more minutes.”

Her words knocked the air from him and for a moment all he could do was grip the phone and stare at Connie’s curious face.

“You—what do you mean?” he finally asked in a rush.

She hesitated, then said, “It’s too complicated to go into now. Go to your lunch, Mr. Rankin. You can call me back later.”

“No! Wait!” he practically shouted. “Please don’t hang up. I’m—sorry if I seemed short. I really am interested, Ms. Crockett.”

Silence met his apology, but at least the phone line was still connected. Finally she said, “I’m sorry, too, for being so curt, Mr. Rankin. You’ve got to understand that this is difficult for me. My mother would be very upset if she found out I was doing this. And I hate going behind her back.”

“You say her identity was lost?”

“That’s right. Twenty-four years ago. But I don’t really want to go into the whole story over the telephone. Is there any way I could meet with you?”

Neil’s mind was suddenly spinning. He wanted to hear this woman’s story. “Sure we could meet. If you’re willing to travel up here to New Mexico.”

“Oh. That’s—out of the question.”

She sounded disappointed and Neil had to admit he was feeling a bit deflated himself. As a lawyer he had the impression her story needed to be explored. And as a man he would like to see for himself what sort of woman Ms. Raine Crockett was.

“Why? Is there some reason you can’t travel?” he asked.

His questions were met with another long hesitation, then she said, “I can’t leave my job right now, Mr. Rankin. And I don’t have a feasible reason to give my mother for traveling to New Mexico.”

“You’re underage?” He was worried now that his first impression was correct.

“I’m almost twenty-four, Mr. Rankin—not underage. I just happen to love my mother and I don’t want to do anything that might…hurt her.”

How could finding the woman’s past possibly hurt her? Neil wondered with confusion. But he didn’t voice the question to Ms. Crockett. She was obviously a cautious little thing and he didn’t want to put her off.

“Well, surely you could come up with some excuse that wouldn’t raise eyebrows,” he suggested.

“I can’t think of one. You see, I’ve never traveled on my own and—” She paused, then went on in a disgusted way, “Oh, this was a bad idea anyway. Let’s just forget it.”

Neil jumped off the corner of the desk. “Ms. Crockett, why can’t we discuss this over the telephone? It would be much simpler for both of us. Why don’t I go have my lunch and I’ll call you when I get back? You won’t even have to be out the expense of another phone call,” Neil suggested.

“Wait just a moment,” she said in a suddenly hushed tone. “Someone is coming into the room.”

Frowning, Neil started to ask her what that had to do with anything, but she must have partially covered the receiver with her hand. He could hear the muted sound of voices in the background. The conversation went on for less than a minute and then she came back onto the line.

“Mr. Rankin, are you still there?”

“Still here.”

“Great,” she said with a measure of relief, then, “I’m sorry about that. You see, my mother works in the same house as I do. That was her. She’s going out this afternoon. I think—maybe it would be better if you did call me back. At least I could give you a brief rundown.”