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How are you? After all they’d been through and all that had happened between them…What kind of question was that? This man had torn her world apart and now he wanted to make small talk? Her insides rolled. “Fine,” she blurted. “Mule Hollow is a great place.” How was she chatting when she wanted to throw up? Pass out. Run.
“That’s what I hear,” he said, his gaze searching hers. “Here, do you want me to take those for you?”
“No!” she exclaimed, and jerked away. Experiencing his touch again was the last thing she wanted. She was amazed she didn’t drop her packages. More amazed she didn’t throw them at him.
“I—I really need to be going. I have to get to work. But I’m sure we’ll see each other again. This is a small town.”
Too small for the both of them, she thought, angling past him.
“That’s what I’m counting on.”
DEBRA CLOPTON
was a 2004 Golden Heart finalist in the inspirational category, a 2006 Inspirational Readers’ Choice Award winner, a 2007 Golden Quill Award winner and a finalist for the 2007 American Christian Fiction Writers Book of the Year Award. She praises the Lord each time someone votes for one of her books, and takes it as an affirmation that she is exactly where God wants her to be.
Debra is a hopeless romantic and loves to create stories with lively heroines and the strong heroes who fall in love with them. But most importantly she loves showing her characters living their faith, seeking God’s will in their lives one day at a time. Her goal is to give her readers an entertaining story that will make them smile, hopefully laugh and always feel God’s goodness as they read her books. She has found the perfect home for her stories writing for the Love Inspired line and still has to pinch herself just to see if she really is awake and living her dream.
When she isn’t writing she enjoys taking road trips, reading and spending time with her two sons, Chase and Kris. She loves hearing from readers and can be reached through her Web site, www.debraclopton.com, or P.O. Box 1125, Madisonville, Texas 77864.
Texas Ranger Dad
Debra Clopton
Published by Steeple Hill Books™
For you who revere my name, the sun of righteousness will rise with healing in its wings.
—Malachi 4:2
To my lifelong buddies and best friends in all the
world, Debra Drake and Lisa Webb—the fun and
laughter we’ve shared through the years is the
inspiration that fuels my stories today! God truly
blessed me with your friendship.
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 Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Questions for Discussion
Chapter One
Zane Cantrell was looking for a woman. And not just any woman.
As a Texas Ranger, he’d made a career of either tracking or protecting men, women and sometimes even children. But this time it was different. This time it was personal.
His gut twisted and his jaw tightened. He wasn’t a Ranger anymore; still, following her to this small town of Mule Hollow had been the easy part.
Facing her…that was where the hard part would begin.
“Zane Cantrell?”
Hearing his name, Zane turned just in time to see a giant of a man emerge from Sam’s Diner. A broad smile spread across the man’s chiseled features. Given the gold star pinned over his heart and the fact that only one person knew he’d been due to arrive in town late last night, Zane took this to be Sheriff Brady Cannon.
When Zane had called inquiring about a job, the sheriff had surprised him by hiring him as deputy within minutes. Of course he’d been officially checked out and no doubt the background check had revealed his story—at least most of it. The sheriff didn’t know about Rose. Didn’t know that Zane had more reasons than just a bum leg to take early retirement.
“Sheriff Cannon?” Zane said, extending his hand for a brisk shake.
“Glad you made it. I see you found the apartment all right.”
A funny statement, since there were only two intersecting streets. Zane’s mood eased with a feeling of finding a kindred spirit in his new boss. “I didn’t have too much trouble,” he said.
“It’s not exactly Corpus, is it?”
One side of Zane’s mouth lifted. “Not by a long shot.”
Only seven hours separated the two places, but they seemed worlds apart. However, his leg injury required frequent stops to walk and stretch the recovering tendons. Because of that it had taken him eleven hours. He’d arrived in town shortly after ten, long after the streets had been rolled up. In Corpus, the nightlife would have just been getting started. He doubted the police here had much going on at any time of the day.
“Thanks for locating the apartment for me. You didn’t have to do that, but I appreciate it.” He glanced behind him at his new home over Mule Hollow’s only real estate office. That it had twenty steep steps was a painful blessing Zane welcomed. Every step would help him heal more quickly.
“I’m the one who should be thanking you,” Brady was quick to counter. “Having a man with your credentials call up out of the blue looking for a job, especially when I’m in need of help—it goes without saying that I’m pleased.” He chuckled. “And my wife insists you’re a godsend. Come on, let’s go around the corner to the office.”
A godsend. Zane could only pray that God was directing his steps here.
Rose Vincent lived here.
And that was Zane’s only reason for coming. Plain and simple.
Falling into step with his new boss, he surveyed the tiny town in the daylight. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen such a colorful place.” Each building along Main Street was painted a different color. The feed store was yellow, the diner grass-green and across the street was a pink hair salon among a row of equally bright buildings. When he’d walked down the stairs that morning and seen the town in the light of day for the first time, he’d been startled. But he’d adjusted, liking the idea of Rose living in a place that looked so…happy. Especially after learning about the years she’d had between then and now. The time she and her son had spent in hiding, struggling and alone, because he’d failed her. It was a small comfort to know she’d found this place. He owed this town a debt of gratitude.
Brady’s expression warmed. “The people are just as colorful. You won’t find a better group of folks. The pace around here is pretty slow, but with all the festivals and weekend traffic we’ve started attracting, it can get wild sometimes. Keeps me busy and me and my wife have got a baby on the way so I really need the extra help.”
“I’m glad to be of help,” he said, and knew he meant it. “So how’s the leg?” Brady asked. They turned the corner at the end of town, their boots clicking on the plank sidewalk. Though he could usually hide the weakness, the sound of his boots hitting the wooden planks accentuated the limp. “It’s coming along.” He’d been up front about his healing process from the injury that had almost killed him. He’d already assured Brady before taking the job that he was on the road to a full recovery. That was all the talking he planned to do. However, that wasn’t what had Zane’s answer stuck in his throat as they approached the sheriff’s office. It was the color of the law enforcement headquarters—chocolate brown with…It couldn’t be.
Rose trim on a sheriff’s office just wasn’t right. Then again, maybe it was red and he simply had Rose on his mind. The thought of being this close to her again after all these years had his attention distracted beyond repair. Almost as much as Zane feared their ability to reconcile the past would be.
Brady glanced over his shoulder and chuckled. “You’ll get used to it. The ladies came up with the color scheme.”
“That’s a relief,” Zane said, forcing a grin as he followed Brady inside the office. Paint was the last thing he was going to have to get used to in this new life. But if he could make things right by Rose then he’d be satisfied. It was a lot to ask of her. During his recovery, though, he’d realized he had to try. God had given him time to make things right…God had given him a second chance and he was taking it.
“So everything is here?” Rose Vincent asked, eyeing the packages spread out across the counter of Pete’s Feed and Seed.
“Goggles. Two pair. Just like you wanted,” the robust store owner said, pulling them out of the stack. “Two thick work shirts. One for you and one for Max. Leather work gloves, bandanas and a pair of size-seven boots.”
It was all here. “I just feel giddy, Pete. This is so thrilling. Not to mention I now own a pair of cowboy boots!”
Pete shook his head and grinned. “Greenhorns—Oh, I almost forgot.” He pulled two small canisters from the shelf behind him and set them on the counter. “You don’t want to forget your blowtorches.”
Rose laughed. She couldn’t help it. “Max cannot wait to get his hands on those. Thanks so much for showing him how to use them correctly.”
“It’s a guy thing and he didn’t need much teaching. Y’all are gonna do real good with this venture, Rose.”
She took a deep breath and started stacking the boxes. Her heart was bursting with emotions she couldn’t put into words. If Pete only knew what it had taken for her to get to this point in her life. A life that hadn’t turned out anything like she’d envisioned it. And yet despite everything that had happened to her, she’d come to realize that she was finally happy.
More important, Max was happy. Her son was so excited about the new business they were starting together…even if it was selling jelly. The idea made her smile. Her grandmother’s wonderful jelly recipe was the perfect foundation with which to build their new future. God rest her soul; she’d always wanted the best for Rose.
Her heartstrings tugged as always when she thought of her grandmother. Oh, how she missed her. “I’m going to bring you my first jar of prickly pear jelly.”
Pete rubbed his belly. “I can hardly wait. Let me carry these packages out to your car for you.”
“Oh, no, you don’t,” she said. “I can get this. You have better things to do and I have two capable arms.” She proved it by scooping the stack of boxes into them.
“I don’t feel right about you carryin’ all that,” Pete grumbled, leaning across the counter to balance the top boxes as they teetered.
“That’s because your momma raised you right. But really, I’ve got this. You have feed orders waiting to be filled, so go on and take care of that and stop worrying about me.”
He didn’t look convinced, but didn’t push the issue as Rose headed for the door. She’d learned a man with manners was a wonderful thing, but she wasn’t one to get used to such things. She glanced back to reassure him. “You have a great day,” she called. Her excitement about the boxes in her arms had her quickening her steps toward the door. Max was waiting at home, eager to start their first fruit harvest.
It was amazing, through years of bitter disillusionment, betrayal and a broken heart God had led her and Max here—to this new life they were starting today. She’d never felt so exhilarated or optimistic about her life. She was practically singing as she stepped out into the bright sunshiny day.
And straight into a wall of a man!
“Whoa, there,” he rumbled from behind the grass separating them.
Rose froze. That voice!
Shock washed over her—if it hadn’t been for his strong hands holding her up, her knees might have buckled beneath her. Dazed, she looked over the packages into the eyes of a two-legged skunk.
“Rose.”
Her name coming from Zane Cantrell’s lips was like the rock slamming through her heart.
“Zane,” she managed. Zane was the last person she’d ever expected to meet on the streets of Mule Hollow. The last person she’d ever wanted to meet anywhere ever again! “What are you doing here?” she demanded.
“I, well, I moved in last night.”
His eyes, his unforgettable, gold-dust eyes, leveled on her as the words moved in hit home. Her eyes widened.
“I’m the new deputy in town.”
“Deputy—” She yanked from his touch. Fought to appear calm. Fought to appear casual. Fought not to notice how good the years had been to him—that he was as handsome as she’d remembered and just as rugged. His cheekbones were more prominent, his jaw harder, his lips…Her mouth went dry. “You’re living here?” she repeated. Repeated, as though he hadn’t just said it loud and clear.
He nodded, probably thinking she’d lost her mind in the years since they’d had their…since their paths had crossed. Humiliation swamped her and she felt her cheeks heat as her past opened like a yawning black hole and threatened to swallow her. For a brief instant she almost welcomed the refuge fainting would give her. But weakness wasn’t an option. Weakness was a weapon that she’d sworn no one would ever use against her again.
“Where?”
He jerked his head to the right. “I moved into the apartment up there.”
Her gaze followed his to the apartment above the real estate office. It was directly across the street from the dress store where she worked!
Rose wasn’t a good enough actress to hide her shock. “I see.” No, I don’t, she silently said. What are you doing here?
“It’s been a long time, Rose. How are you?”
How are you? After all they’d been through and all that had happened between them…What kind of question was that? This man had torn her world apart and now he wanted to make small talk! Her insides rolled. “Fine,” she blurted. “Mule Hollow is a great place.” How was she chatting when she wanted to throw up? Pass out. Run.
“That’s what I hear,” he said, his gaze searching hers. “Here, do you want me to take those for you?”
“No!” she exclaimed, and jerked away. Experiencing his touch again was the last thing she wanted. She was amazed she didn’t drop her packages. More amazed she didn’t throw them at him.
“I—I really need to be going. I have to get to work. But I’m sure we’ll see each other again. This is a small town.”
Too small for the both of them, she thought, angling past him.
“That’s what I’m counting on.”
She managed a nod, then hurried across the street to the dress store. She was off today, but she’d forgotten momentarily that her car was parked in front of the feed store. Her only thought was getting away. She wasn’t sure how her legs held her up, but she made it across the street and to the door.
“Hang on,” she growled under her breath. Her hand shook violently as she grasped the doorknob, wrestled with her packages and at the same time somehow got inside. She kicked the door closed just as her arms turned into noodles and the boxes toppled to the ground. Struggling to breathe, she fell against the wall and fought to regain some sort of control. It was a hard thing to do when everything she cared about was now at risk.
Zane Cantrell was here.
Zane watched Rose disappear inside Ashby’s Treasures. He wasn’t certain if he’d been right in coming here, but one look into her midnight-blue eyes told him he’d done what he needed to do. He wasn’t surprised that she hadn’t been glad to see him. He was trained to read people, but it hadn’t taken a trained eye to see that he’d upset her. An expected reaction, considering the likelihood she hated him.
And with reason.
Chapter Two
What are dreams made of?
Standing in the center of the pasture surrounding her newly acquired home, Rose smiled despite the turmoil she was feeling since seeing him that morning. Not many would say their dreams were made of ugly, purple, egg-shaped fruit. But that was exactly what Rose’s dreams were made of. Delicious prickly pear fruit.
The house was old and the pastures were overrun with huge prickly pear cacti. To the town it looked about the most useless of any land the Lord had ever created. But that was precisely the reason she’d saved and worked to buy this particular piece of property. These heavily laden plants, whose beautiful yellow flowers had given way to the ugly fruit, were a thing of beauty. They were her field of dreams.
She and Max had arrived in Mule Hollow on a bus loaded with other women relocating from a burned-down women’s shelter in L.A. They’d come with the hope that the small town and the new women’s shelter might be the answer to their prayers.
It had been everything they’d hoped and so much more. The town had such a caring, loving need to make the newcomers feel safe and that they had something to offer the community. That made a difference. Especially for Max. He’d taken to the town almost immediately and now dreamed of owning his own ranch one day. On the streets of L.A. that thought would have never crossed his mind. She thanked God every day for leading them here.
And this—this deceptive-looking field of cacti surrounding this frame house and barn that had seen better days—this was where their dreams were going to come true.
She refused to think the past few hours could have changed that.
“Mom!” Max yelled.
She spun and watched her gangly teenage son zigzag toward her through the cacti. In his gloved hand he held a canvas bag aloft like the trophy that it was.
“I’ve got a bagful,” he said, skidding to a halt, his beautiful eyes sparkling from behind the protective goggles. She could hear the grin in his voice behind the bandana covering the rest of his face. The tiny, hairlike stingers on the fruit and the cactus plant were not something to take chances with. They were horribly irritating if they got on skin; in the eyes would be even worse. He’d grumbled when she’d first asked him to wear the goggles, but no protective wear, no deal. When she’d gotten home from town he’d been so anxious to get to work he hadn’t blinked twice as he’d snapped the goggles into place.
He was too excited about the prospect of harvesting the fruit to notice that she was upset. She was glad because, though she tried to hide it, there had still been the chance that her observant son might notice. She wasn’t ready to explain Zane…Mule Hollow’s new deputy!
Her temperature rose at the thought of him.
Desperately in need of a distraction, she stood dressed in her own gear harvesting prickly pear. Just what she needed. Denial was the name of the game. And at the moment, she’d play the game, because Zane, here in Mule Hollow, was simply too overwhelming to take in one dose.
She needed time to process it. Needed time to find a way to explain it all to Max. He knew that they’d spent many years in one shelter after the other, but he didn’t know all the circumstances that had led up to their nomadic way of life. He didn’t know that she’d witnessed a murder when she was twenty. Or that she’d briefly entered the witness protection program, when her testimony had sent the killer to prison. Nor did he know the whole truth about why or how she’d taken back her real name.
Max had been too young to remember anything of that life and she wanted to keep it that way.
Forcing the thoughts away, she held up her matching bag of fruit. “Me, too,” she said. “But, Max, please slow down. If you trip and fall into a cactus, those bristles are going to eat you alive.”
He tugged the bandana down. “Mom, stop worrying. I’m covered up like a mummy. Besides, I don’t trip.” The words were spoken like only a cocky teenager could do. “I’m an entrepreneur. The guys still can’t believe I’m opening my own business at fourteen.”
Rose teasingly lifted a brow at his words, loving his willingness to succeed. He was a fighter. Ambitious to achieve his goals. He was as proud as she was to have their first home, because at his young age he knew what it meant not to have a place to call their own. His ambition would help him survive.
“We’re opening a business,” he amended with a wide grin and teasing brow of his own. “Just you and me, kid,” he said with a wink of his beautiful golden eyes.
Instantly a stab of worry cut Rose to the core. Those eyes coupled with that wide grin…She was standing on top of a house of cards that had already begun to buckle.
But not here. Not in this moment when everything was supposed to be so perfect. “We’re full partners,” she said, forcing the conversation forward. “You are welcome to be as involved in this as you want to be. I’m going to rely on you a lot. If you’re sure you want the responsibilities.”
His eyes turned serious in an instant. “I’m in all the way. Remember, I have a ranch to buy. That means I better get to work. It’s torch time.” He took her bag, then sauntered off toward the worktable where his torches waited.
Cleaning off the stickers required singeing the bristles off with the hot flame. Like Pete said, it was a guy thing.
Watching him, panic crowded near. Zane was here. In her town.
She could run, leave all of this behind—but she couldn’t do that to Max. She sucked in a shaky breath, attempting to calm her fears. Deep down she’d feared this day might come. And now that it was here there was only one thing she could do.
Stay put.
No more running.
It was time to make a stand, whether she was ready to or not.
“I still can’t believe we got ourselves a real live Texas Ranger as a deputy in our little town,” Applegate Thornton said, sounding like he was talking through a bullhorn the minute Zane entered Sam’s Diner. Applegate was a reedy, dour elderly man of average height—Zane figured his scarecrow thinness probably made him seem taller to most on first glance. He was a mainstay of Sam’s Diner. With his buddy Stanley Orr, he seemed to have the pulse of the community well in hand. They sat front and center at the window table and were deep into their morning checker tournament. Zane had met them the previous day after his encounter with Rose. The two men and Sam had practically interrogated him for an hour.
It was pretty evident to Zane that though they looked like they were engrossed in their game, their eagle eyes saw everything that happened on the street beyond their window.
Softer, shorter and smiling, Stanley nodded in agreement. “Brady’s a good man, too. I bet he’d a made a good Ranger. Hard ta b’lieve our little town’s been fortunate ta get y’all both.”
“I appreciate the vote of confidence,” Zane said, with a nod their direction. It was true. He’d only been in the small town a couple of days, but he already felt a connection to it. His natural sense of protectiveness had gone on full alert. Not that he was expecting any trouble—but if it came calling he’d meet it head-on. Zane had never taken his job lightly, as a Ranger or now, as a sworn deputy. He’d always prided himself on making choices in the best interests of the people or places entrusted in his care. For the most part, that code had left him with few regrets and enabled him to be proud of looking back. Rose was the exception.
“So, what do the two of you do?” he asked.
Sam hustled from the kitchen with tray of clean coffee cups. He was five feet, if that, with the bow-legged gait of a man who’d been built to sit a horse. Zane saw the craggy-faced proprietor as a small man with a big heart and more than likely a tenacious one. There was something about his eyes and his stout handshake that spoke to Zane. He was a mainstay of the community. Zane had studied people all his life, and then trained for it in his job, but there were some people who wore their character like an open book for all the world to see—that was Sam Green. He was a man who could be counted on. It was the way Zane had always hoped he could be described by those who knew him. It cut deep that Rose couldn’t say that about him.