Chance McCall (37 page)

“Jennifer,
niña
, would you please get out of my kitchen and let me do my work? If you say Chance comes home today, then he’ll come. And if he comes, I will have food. If…” she stared pointedly, “you will leave and let me get busy.”

Jennifer grinned. “I’m leaving,” she said. “And of course Chance is coming home today.”

Juana was puzzled. “What makes you so certain?” she asked. “Did he call?”

“No,” Jenny answered. “But today’s Saturday. He’ll be home by tonight.”

Juana rolled her eyes and went back to her work.

Jenny wandered through the house, anxious now that the time was near. Remembering the man who’d called himself Chance’s father made her uneasy. Even though Marcus had all but ignored her at one time, he’d been a shadowy figure in the background of her life. It felt good knowing that their relationship had progressed.

“What are you doing?” Marcus asked, as his daughter paced the living room.

“Killing time.” She fluffed the throw pillows on the sofa.

“Until what?” Marcus asked. If something was happening, he hadn’t been told.

“Until Chance comes home.” She carried an arrangement of flowers from the mantel to the table by the window.

“He’s coming home today? When did he call?”

“He didn’t. I just know that it’s today.” She stepped back and surveyed the room.

The assurance in her voice made Marcus worry. What if Chance didn’t show up today? What made Jenny so all-fired certain it would be today?

“Okay,” he said, trying not to let doubt seep into his voice. “But if he doesn’t make it, I wouldn’t worry. He’ll be along…just like you said…when he’s ready.”

“Marcus! Quit trying to bolster my spirits. You don’t understand. It’s Saturday. He’ll be home. You wait and see.”

And then her face lit up as she remembered. “Wait here! I want to show you something.”

She came hurrying back with a stack of magazines. He smiled as he saw the title of the magazine on top.
Bride
. It figured.

“I’ve found the perfect dress,” she said. “Look, what do you think?”

Marcus took the picture she offered and tilted it toward the window for better light.

Jenny smiled, watching his intense concentration. She knew he didn’t know satin from fur balls, but it was sweet that he was trying to get involved. And then she looked past him, out of the window.

“Oh, Marcus!” she whispered. “Look!”

He turned and lost his place in the magazine as it fell shut. A familiar red pickup truck had just topped the rise and was coming down the driveway toward home.

The rest of the magazines fell to the floor at her feet. Jenny began to move. She made it to the door without crying. But the minute she reached the porch, the tears began to flow. She hit the ground running.

It was late evening when Chance reached the last leg of his journey. Familiar faces and places had taken on new meaning. He could just imagine the look on Jenny’s face. He wondered if he should have called, but he wanted to surprise her.

The pastures were in need of some rain, he’d noticed on the way to the ranch. It looked like their neighbor to the north had cut his prairie hay. When he came over a slow rise he saw a vehicle coming to meet him. He pulled over to let it pass, and smiled as he recognized two of the men from the Triple T.

“Hey, it’s the boss!” They waved from their window. “Welcome home!”

Chance grinned. Damn, but it felt good to hear that!

The small pond in the north pasture was next in sight. The three cottonwood trees at the side of the spillway waved in the breeze. Even the landscape was welcoming him home. Chance’s stomach twisted in nervous anticipation. The house was just over the next rise.

His fingers tightened on the steering wheel. He slowed down as he topped the hill, feasting his eyes on the Triple T and what it meant to be coming back.

And then he saw her, a small figure in white, coming out of the door and off the porch. She was running. Chance pressed down on the gas. Urgency overwhelmed him. He’d waited entirely too long to hold her again.

The closer he came, the faster she ran. He could see her face…and the laughter…and the tears. And then he was out of the truck and she was in his arms.

“Jenny, Jenny, Jenny!” It was all he could say. Holding her was the next best thing to heaven.

“I knew that you’d come today,” she said. She wrapped her arms around his neck as her feet left the ground.

“How did you know that, darlin’?” he asked. “I wanted to surprise you.” He was pressing urgent little kisses along the contours of her face and neck.

“Because it’s Saturday night, you fool.” She was smiling and crying, all at the same time, as Chance swung her around and around, stirring up a small dust cloud beneath his feet.

And then his laughter rang out, pure and long. Jenny Tyler loved him.

Epilogue

“
Did the caterers
get everything in place?” Marcus asked, as Juana darted from the kitchen to the buffet and back again.

“Yes.” She sighed. “Go see to your guests. I’ll see to the food.”

Marcus grinned and complied.

The wedding was all he’d expected and more. Jenny made a beautiful bride. And walking down the aisle, with her on his arm, had been the most uplifting experience of his life. He might have missed out on a lot of things, but he’d finally been there when it had counted.

The front door to the house opened and closed with constant regularity. Henry had stationed himself as official butler for a day. He was dressed in a western suit and brand-new boots that made his hobble more obvious than usual. But he’d sworn to be a part of Jenny’s special day, even if it killed him.

Marcus was anxious that everyone arrive for the reception before Jenny and Chance. They’d been detained at the church while the photographer insisted on more pictures, even though the guests had long since departed for the Triple T ranch.

The front door opened, and another small group of people entered. Marcus had seen them at the church, but had taken little notice until now. A young man and woman walked in, each firmly in charge of a blond little boy. Twins! Marcus smiled to himself. But it was the older man who walked in behind them that made him take a second look.

“Well I’ll be damned,” he said to himself. Even at this distance, through the crowd of people, he could see the resemblance. He didn’t know whether to punch the man’s face or shake his hand. From the little Jenny had told him, this man had given Chance nothing but grief.

“Marcus,” Henry said, as he walked them over to where he was standing. “This here’s Chance’s sister and her husband,” and then he grinned, “and their boys. Ain’t they somethin’?” And then as an afterthought, he included the older man in his introduction, but Marcus could tell that Henry, too, was reserving judgment. “And this is Logan Henry.” He muttered as he walked away. “Says he’s Chance’s father.”

Logan would like to have complained about the lack of respect in the old man’s voice, but in all conscience, he knew he deserved it. From what he’d learned in the last few weeks, Chance was a highly respected employee…and now son-in-law…of Marcus Tyler.

The look that passed between the two older men was reserved. Logan knew he was here on sufferance.

The phone call inviting him had been a surprise. When she’d identified herself as Chance’s future bride, his attention had become instantly focused. She’d told him, in no uncertain terms, what she thought of his treatment of Chance. Then she’d invited him to the wedding.

Her reasoning still made his head spin. If he knew his women, and that was one thing on which Logan Henry was definitely an expert, his son had just married a tiger. He grinned. Those were always keepers.

He headed for the bar, grabbed himself a drink, and began to blend into the crowd of guests.

Jenny was fidgeting. She yanked on her sleeves and pulled at her veil. She smoothed the dark cloud of hair away from her face, and secured it back beneath the fluff of net and pearls that crowned her forehead. She pulled down the mirror over the visor and checked her makeup again, just to make certain that there was some left.

Chance had kissed her all the way from the church to the car, and then it had taken him five minutes just to put the key in the ignition and drive. He couldn’t seem to keep his hands off of her. Jenny smiled. That was just the way she wanted it. Needy and begging like this, Chance was going to make tonight memorable, to say the least.

Chance grinned. He saw her smile. He knew what was on her mind, as well he should. He’d just spent the last twenty minutes putting it there. He watched her fidget with her wedding dress and was damned glad he didn’t have to wear all that stuff.

“You okay, darlin’?” he asked, and slipped his hand beneath the yards and yards of skirt, trying to find his Jenny.

“Just drive,” she said. “I can’t wait to get home and get this off.”

“Me neither.”

She laughed, and then remembered. When they got to the reception, he was probably going to be mad.

The Triple T came into view. Jenny took a deep breath. Maybe she should prepare him. Maybe springing it on him unannounced wasn’t such a good idea after all.

“Chance…”

“We’re here, darlin’,” he said. “Come on, let’s get you and all that fluff out of the car. We’ve got cake to cut, champagne to drink, and a party to start. After that, they’re on their own. I’ve been lonesome too long.”

He was referring to the fact that she hadn’t let him get too close to her, let alone make love to her, since he’d returned from Odessa. It had taken exactly two weeks to plan and execute this wedding, and she wanted their wedding night to be really special. As far as he was concerned, it had been two weeks too long.

She sighed. In a few minutes she’d know whether she would spend her wedding night alone or not.

They walked onto the porch.

“Chance,” she said, “I should probably warn you…”

He saw worry clouding her eyes. What had she been up to now?

The door swung open, and Henry beamed, waving them inside as he called aloud to everyone assembled, “They’re here!”

His family was the first group Jenny saw. She held her breath, turned a warning look toward Chance. and waited.

Chance felt the porch tilt. His grip tightened on Jenny’s hand. He felt her return the gesture with a sharp tug of her own. He looked down.

“Jenny…what have you done?” His voice was stiff with disbelief.

Logan Henry was here!

“I know you don’t like him,” Jenny whispered. “I’m not asking you to. I don’t care if you never resolve your differences. But you’re going to have to learn to get along. I won’t have the grandfather of our children be nothing but a faceless name for them…do you hear me?” Her vehemence was mixed with panic.

It was the word “children” that did it. He saw the small, dark-haired girl-child with scruffy boots, dirty jeans, and a torn shirt who’d wrapped herself around his heart and never let go.

“I hear you, Jennifer Ann,” he said softly. “And you’d better hear me. You’ll pay for this. Later tonight…you’re going to pay dearly.”

She turned and smiled. “I certainly hope so.”

He caught his breath at the promise in her eyes and then swept her into his arms.

“Come on, darlin’.” He laughed. “Let’s cut that cake, greet the guests, and leave the rest of the partying to the family. I’ve got a lifetime of loving for you.”

She leaned back in his arms, blessed him with a smile that nearly made him miss a step, and whispered in his ear, “I can hardly wait.”

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Special thanks to the wonderful people of Odessa, Texas, who opened their hearts to a stranger asking questons.

And to the Odessa Chamber of Commerce who treated me like a member of their family: to Linda Sweatt, Stacey Burkhart, Chrissy Roehrman, Pat Owlfley, Molly Reid, and Frances Durham.

To Glen Atkins, Lynn Riggs, Joe Johnson, and John Middleton, of The Chuck Wagon Gang for sharing the organization’s fascinating history. Keep up the great work!

To Pearl Collins of Henderson’s Drug.

To Bonnie Ruth Brannigan at The White-Pool House for helping me remember my own roots…and for laughing with me.

To the people at the Barn Door for their hospitality.

To the waitress at The New Brewery, thanks for sharing the hospitality of your city.

And a special thanks to my aunt, Grace Ryan, a long-time resident of Odessa, who shared her home with me while I searched her city for its flavor.

About the Author

With forty-five books in print, award-winning author SHARON SALA, who also writes as Dinah McCall, still has to remind herself from time to time that this isn’t a dream.

She learned to read at the age of four and has had her nose in a book ever since. Her introduction into romance came at an early age through the stories of Zane Gray, Grace Livingston Hill and Emily Loring. Her pride in contributing to the genre is echoed by the letters of her fans.

She’s a four-time RITA finalist, Winner of the Janet Dailey Award, three-time Career Achievement winner from
Romantic Times
magazine, four-time winner of the National Reader’s Choice Award and five-time winner of the Colorado Romance Writer’s Award of Excellence, as well as numerous other industry awards.

Her books are regularly on bestseller lists, such as the
New York Times
extended list,
USA Today, Publishers Weekly,
Waldenbooks mass market, and many others.

She claims that, for her, learning to read was a matter of evolution, but learning to write and then being published was a revolution. It changed her life, her world and her fate.

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