Lonestar Homecoming (15 page)

There were so many names, Gracie had a hard time keeping them straight. Everyone insisted she open her gifts right away. Most were kitchen gifts or decorative items.

“The house is pretty spare,” Shannon said. “I bet you're still trying to find enough tableware.”

“Michael finally bought some,” Gracie said. “I love these plates you bought. Blue is my favorite color.”The blue and white Pfaltzgraff had been something she'd wanted for a long time.

Allie's smile was a bit wicked.“Wait until you see what I got you.” She handed Gracie a pink bag.

It weighed practically nothing. Gracie pasted on her smile. She suspected whatever the gift was would make her blush. Removing the tissue paper, she peeked inside the bag. Something white and lacy lay at the bottom. Heat rose up her neck, but she pulled out the lingerie and held it up.A delicate teddy dangled from her fingers. “I. . . I love it,” she said.

For just a moment she let herself imagine the expression on Michael's face if he ever saw her in it. She needed to quit thinking about him in that way.This thing was going to go in the bottom of her dresser. She stuffed it back into the bag as the women laughed.

“It's okay, you're married,” one woman said. “No need to be embarrassed.”

“Thanks,” Gracie mumbled to Allie. “It's really beautiful.”

“I'm sure Michael will be knocked on his patootie when he sees you in it,”Allie said. “It's got to be tough to find time for romance with three kids in the house.And you're newlyweds. I wish you'd let us throw you a real wedding instead of the quick one in the judge's chambers.”

“We didn't want a fuss,” Gracie said softly.

Shannon's smile widened. “The other part of the gift is that we're going to watch the kids for you while you honeymoon.We're sending you to the Chisos Mountains Lodge.You can save the teddy for that.” Her eyes twinkled.

“A. . . a honeymoon?” How on earth would she get out of this?

“Jack called and said he told Michael when he took the horse over. Michael was speechless!” Shannon's smile was triumphant.

“The lodge is so nice,” Allie said. “You'll love it. The elevation makes it cooler, so you can have a fire in the fireplace even though it's the middle of August. So romantic!”

That wasn't the word Gracie would have chosen. “Thank you,” she said. “It's too much.”

“Everyone needs a honeymoon,”Allie said. “A chance to bond and talk without the distractions of caring for the kids.”

“I rather like distractions,” Gracie said. She managed a smile when the women all laughed.

“Michael will be a better distraction,” Janet said. “Lanny says Michael is going to be a great asset to the Border Patrol.”

“Think he'll even be able to get off work?” Gracie asked.

“Don't sound so hopeful,” Shannon said, laughing. “You'll make us think you don't want to be alone with your new husband.”

“I. . . I was just worried. I didn't want to get my hopes up if it's not going to happen.” She could feel beads of perspiration break out on her forehead.

“I'll make sure Lanny doesn't throw a wrench in the works,” Janet said. “Start thinking about what you'll take.”

“I'm not sure about leaving the kids. Hope is still adjusting.”

“She loves Betsy. She'll be happy to stay with us,” Allie said.

“And I'll take Evan and Jordan,” Shannon said. “We'll keep them busy with the horses. Don't worry. It's all going to be fine. It will be a weekend you'll always remember.”

In more ways than the women could even imagine. Gracie wished she could have seen Michael's face when Jack told him what they had planned. Had he tried to wiggle out of it as hard as she was? Probably harder, she decided. Maybe she could get sick. Or maybe one of the kids would have a school function they couldn't miss.There had to be something she could do to avoid being with Michael alone. If she had the courage, she'd tell these friendly women the truth, but she couldn't bear to see their fallen faces. She would just have to grin and bear it.

12

M
ICHAEL HAD NEVER RIDDEN A HORSE WITH SUCH A SMOOTH GAIT
. T
HE
intelligence in the gelding's eyes pleased him, too, and in the three hours he'd owned the horse, the two bonded. The horse seemed to anticipate Michael's thoughts and desires. Caesar loped alongside them with his ears up and his nose down. Michael hoped the dog was on a scent that would yield something worthwhile.

He needed all the help he could get to keep his thoughts from straying to the bombshell Jack had dropped. A honeymoon with Gracie. That news had probably filled her blue eyes with panic. If he was honest with himself, he'd admit his pulse had kicked the minute Jack mentioned it. He was way too attracted to his new wife. But was that so wrong? He'd known her long enough to see the kind of woman she was. Pursuing these emotions to see where they led might be— interesting.

Caesar broke into a run. Michael dug his heels into Fabio's flank and took out across the desert after the dog. Caesar was in full hunt mode. Michael scanned the rolling blue hills and peered past soft green vegetation for any hint of movement. Moments later, the dog paused at a paloverde tree and began to paw at the sand. Michael reined in his horse and dismounted. He looped the lead over a tree branch and knelt to see what the dog had discovered.

“What'd you find, boy?” he asked.The dog whined and continued to dig. Michael went to his saddlebag and dug out a small shovel. “Stand back,” he commanded.

The dog fell back, and Michael thrust the shovel into the dirt. It was soft here, probably from being disturbed recently. He lifted out three shovelfuls, then the blade struck something. He scooped faster until a large metal box lay revealed. Leaving it in the hole, he called in his find to army headquarters, who promised to notify Border Patrol. They'd want to recover any forensic evidence from the area. Caesar's reaction told him drugs were inside. He didn't need the confirmation of seeing them.

He put his shovel away and waited.The sun beat down hot on his head, and a trickle of perspiration ran down his face. He wiped the sweat away with his forearm. Caesar growled low in his throat, and Michael immediately hunkered down. A whine ran past his head, and he realized it was a bullet. He threw himself to the hard ground, then rolled as he pulled out his revolver. Fabio reared, and his rein loosened. Moments later he galloped away.

A shadow moved by a pile of rocks partway up the hillside. Two men, both Mexicans. And both armed. He needed cover. He crab-crawled to the tree and lay on his stomach. Spitting the sand from his mouth, he peered toward the rocks. Caesar took off toward the men, and Michael called the dog back. They'd shoot him for sure.Taking out his phone, he called the incident in.The officer on the other end of the line told him to wait for backup, but he glanced up toward the rocks again.The men were still there, gesturing with their guns. No doubt they wanted the drugs they'd hidden, but they'd have to go through him to get them.

“Mr.Wayne,” one called, “we want only our property.Take the box out and put it on the rock over here.We will not shoot, and you will be free to go.”

Probably a lie, he decided. If he got that close to them, he'd be able to identify them. A shot through the head, and their worries would be over. He squinted at the gaping hole.Was there something more than the typical stash of marijuana or cocaine? He should have peeked inside, but he hadn't wanted to disturb any forensic evidence.

What really concerned him was that they'd called him by name. How did they know who he was? He stared at the figures moving around the rocks. They could be after the bounty on his head. Regardless, he wasn't about to hand over the box. Reinforcements would be here soon. All he had to do was wait them out.

Almost before the thought formed, a flurry of bullets flew his way.The men began scrambling down the rocks. He could return fire, but once his ammo was exhausted, he'd be helpless. The rest of his ammo was in his saddlebag.With Fabio, who was out of sight.

They were looking away as they maneuvered on the rocks. Michael crawled from the tree to a rock. He patted his leg, and Caesar joined him. When the men reached the desert floor and began to advance toward his position, he aimed at the feet of the closest one. He squeezed off a shot, and the bullet kicked up sand where it struck by the man's toe. Both men dived for the rocks again.While they were positioning, Michael dashed for another tree. If he could keep them off center until help arrived, he might survive this.

He crouched in his new spot and waited. One man cursed, then Michael heard the other say in Spanish, “He's as tough as his brother.” Did these men kill his brother? A red haze filled his vision. He started to stand and shout at them, but common sense took over. He needed to stay alive for his kids. But once reinforcements arrived, he would interrogate these men.

The
whop-whop
of chopper blades overhead drew another shout from the men.They scrambled up the path through the rocks. Michael stood and shouted for them to stop, but they didn't look back. He lunged toward the hillside. One was almost in reach.With a leap, he tackled the youngest man bringing up the rear.

Pain encased his kneecap, then radiated in all directions, but he hung on as the man wrestled out of his grip. Michael made another grab for the guy's ankle and missed.When Michael tried to get up, his leg buckled under him. Helpless, he watched the men disappear around the curve in the path.

When the chopper landed, Lanny and two other Border Patrol agents alighted.They loaded him on a stretcher, but he refused to let them put him on the helicopter until Lanny opened the box.

“What's in it?” Michael asked as his boss bent over the container.

Lanny straightened. “AK-47s. And a little pot. Good work.”

“Not good enough. I think they killed Philip.” He'd promised Lanny there would be no vendetta, but Michael found he was going to have trouble keeping his word about that. He curled his fingers into fists. He would find those men.

“Look here,” one of the agents said. He handed a letter-sized poster to Michael.

Michael's fingers spasmed. “Get me home.” He stuffed the paper in his pocket. “I need to check on my family.”

G
RACIE WAS ON HER HANDS AND KNEES, SCRUBBING THE CRACKED LINOLEUM
in the kitchen, when she heard a vehicle crunch on the driveway gravel. She popped her head up and glanced out the window to see a big SUV park by the porch. Michael's truck and trailer rolled to a stop behind the SUV, but two strangers got out of it. A man exited the SUV and approached the front door. He wore a green Border Patrol uniform.

She dried her hands. “Wait here, Hope,” she told her daughter, who was copying letters onto lined paper. She went to answer the firm rap on the screen door. She stared through the screen at the man on the other side. He was in his thirties with brown eyes and skin weathered by the sun and wind.

“Howdy, ma'am.You're Mrs.Wayne?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“I'm Israel Fishman with Border Patrol.We've got your husband in the SUV, and I wanted to make sure the door was unlocked to bring him in.”

She gasped and put her hand to her throat. “He's hurt?”

“Rapped his knee trying to catch a shooter. The doctor said to keep ice on it and keep it elevated. He's not supposed to put any weight on it for a couple of days.We'll bring him in.”The man tipped his hat, then went back down the wooden steps. “And we'll put the horse in the barn and feed him so you don't have to worry about more than a grouchy husband.” He grinned.

The two men from Michael's truck approached the SUV's front passenger door, which swung open. Gracie didn't like how white Michael's face was or how he grimaced when the men helped him out.The men made a sling with their arms and carried him across the yard and up the steps. Caesar watched as if to make sure they were doing it right.

“Where do you want him?” Fishman asked.

Michael answered for her. “In the living room.”

She shook her head. “In his bedroom. He won't be able to get up the steps.”

He glared at her. “I'll sleep on the sofa. I'm not spending two days looking at four walls.”

Uh-oh. She'd always heard it said a sick man was worse than a kid. She was going to have her hands full taking care of him. She shrugged. “In the living room, then.”

Puffing, the men carried Michael down the hall to the sofa and deposited him on it. She scooted over a footrest, then lifted his injured leg onto it.

He winced. “Appreciate the help, guys.”

“Anything for Phil's brother,” Fishman said.

Michael rose onto his elbow. “You knew Phil?”

Fishman nodded. “Good man. Pickens has me investigating his death.”

“What have you found out?”

“Nothing you don't know. Not yet, at least. But I'll track down Vargas's henchmen.” He went toward the hall.

“Thanks,” Gracie told the men, following them to the door.

“He's been grousing since we got him,” Fishman said. “You might want to put on your boxing gloves.”

“I think I can handle him,” she said. “You seem a little tense. How did he take that fall?”

“Running after arms smugglers.”

“Did he catch them?”

He shook his head. “I'm just thankful he didn't get shot. There was gunfire.” He glanced away. “Sorry. I'll be in trouble for telling you that, I'm sure.”

In her mind's eye, she saw Michael lying spread-eagle with a bullet through his chest, and something lodged in her throat that grew until she couldn't speak.

Fishman touched her arm. “Try not to worry. He's okay.”

She nodded, still unable to form a sentence. Fishman shrugged and went toward his SUV, where the other men waited. Gracie backed away from the door and went back to check on Michael. His feet were propped up. His brows were drawn together, and his lips were in a tight line.