Loving a Lawman (6 page)

“Don't lie to me. I've heard the doctors talking behind my back—”

“Meemaw,” she sighed. “No one has been talking about you. The doctors have been very up front about everything.”

“—and I know I'm not long for this world.”

Jessie resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She knew what was coming. Had heard it too many times to count. It both unnerved and annoyed her that her grandmother could talk about her death like an event at the county fair.

“When I die,” she continued, “make sure that you get that picture. The one of me and your mother at the river. You know the one.”

She did. A framed black-and-white snapshot that hung just to the left of the door leading to the kitchen. Her mother had been about seven years old, with knobby knees and stringy blond hair. Donna had been holding her mother's hand. Naomi looked young and happy. A different lady, a different time. It was that picture that had inspired Jessie to want to take photographs of her own, capture things so easily lost.

“I don't have much,” Naomi continued, “but that picture's special.”

“I know, Meemaw.” Jessie inched toward the door.

“I want you to keep it.”

“Yes, Meemaw.”

“Pass it down to your children.”

“I will, Meemaw.”

Naomi opened her mouth to say something more, but Jessie interrupted. As rude as it was to cut off her grandmother, Seth was waiting and once Naomi got on the subject of the picture and happier times, it might be days before she came up for a breath.

“Just take your medicine at four thirty, 'kay?”

Naomi harrumphed again and muttered something that sounded like “these young people today” as Jessie turned and made her way out the front door.

*   *   *

S
eth was halfway to the house when Jessie came tripping down the porch, her camera swinging around her neck and a brightly wrapped package tucked under her arm. Without a word, he opened the door for her, then made his way around to the driver's side of his old red-and-white Ford.

How many times had he done this very same thing: swing by and pick up Jessie before heading out to the ranch for a Langston family function? Christmas, Easter, Jake's birthday, his mother's birthday, Grandma Esther's birthday. After all those times, all those birthdays, all those family events, why did today feel different? Why did today feel like a date?

There was only one way to get through a situation like this: keep his eyes on the road, his hands on the wheel, and an iron clamp on . . . well, an iron clamp on everything else.

Piece of cake.

Yeah, right.

Why now?
he asked himself again. Why, after three years, was he having such a tough time ignoring the feelings he had for Jessie? Why was he having such a tough time ignoring
her
? Why was he so aware of every breath she pulled in, every time she exhaled? Why was he so aware of the way the air from the vents blew the wisps of her hair—those fuzzy little pieces that had escaped her braid—around her face? Her scent assaulted him and enticed him at the same time. He'd barely spared her a glance and yet every detail was burned into his brain. The exact color of her buttercup yellow button-up dress printed with tiny blue flowers and the exact way it rippled and floated around her slim frame. The worn red cowboy boots that Jake had found her over in Austin and the seen-better-days straw hat that she'd had as long as Seth could remember. The fact that the only jewelry she
wore were little, dangly butterfly earrings his mother had given her when she graduated high school and the slim silver bracelet engraved with the word
dream
—also a gift from the Langston family—that she wore on her left arm in place of a watch.

Why now? He only had one answer to that question: because he was starting to want more. A real house—not just Nita Calvert's renovated garage apartment. A family of his own. A wife to come home to every night. To share a meal, share their days. A son to carry on his name. More.

He let his gaze wander to the side, just enough that he could make out Jessie's tense profile. The one big problem with wanting more was that he couldn't have the one woman he truly wanted.

It sure didn't help that his mother kept pushing Millie Evans in his face every chance she got. He hadn't had a conversation with his mother in the last two weeks without Millie's name coming up—ever since she had returned to Page County. And then there was Darly Jo . . . well, she was something else entirely. Though he had to admit she would be the most logical choice for him. She was obviously willing to enter into a relationship with him. And she knew firsthand the responsibilities of a small-town sheriff. She knew about the long hours, the spur-of-the-moment, middle-of-the-night calls. But with all things considered, he couldn't say she was what he wanted in a mate. What he wanted was sitting next to him, but belonged to someone else. And Thursday night's events just drove home what he had been denying for far too long. It was time for him to settle down and get married. Stop playing the field and—

“I don't know why you insisted that I come today.”

Seth kept his gaze glued to the dusty ranch road in front of him. They had been driving for almost half an hour, not counting the side trip to the Safeway, and she hadn't said more than “Hi” and “Thanks for the ride” to him. They were almost to the Diamond and now she wanted to talk?

“You're part of the family.”

“Not really.” She shrugged. Not that he was actually looking at her. Not directly anyway. Just out of the corner of his eye.

“Okay. What'd you get for Christmas last year from my mother?”

“A bread machine and some underwear.”

“Me too,” he said, trying not to think about the whole underwear thing. “Doesn't get much more family than that. Plus, you take the best pictures.”

“So you want me or my camera skills?”

Now, what was he supposed to say to that? “And your punch. Don't forget your punch.”

She tried for a smile at his poor attempt at humor, but it looked more like a grimace than anything else.

“Jessie, you're an honorary Langston.”

“And that's all I'll ever be.”

He couldn't help himself; he turned his head and looked directly at her. “What do you mean by that?”

“Chase was real mad the other night.”

“Chase doesn't stay mad for long. He did drop the charges the next morning.”

Her short little braid did a small pendulum swing as she shook her head. “Chase isn't going to get over this one. No one's going to let him.”

“That's not true and you know it.” He peeled his gaze away from her and trained it back onto the road ahead.

He said the words, and she shrugged again, neither in agreement nor in denial. But he knew she believed what she had said. And he supposed there was a small part of it that was the truth. Small towns were cruel and unforgiving. Collectively they forgot nothing. If an individual happened to let something slip his mind, you could bet that someone in the town would be there to remind him. Unfortunately Jessie had been fodder for the gossips since the day she was born.

Of course everything would be different for her once
Chase decided to settle down. Lucky Langston was the golden boy of Page County. Hell, he'd put Cattle Creek on the map. Once Jessie hooked up—officially—with Chase, then all her worries would be over.

“You could always tell him the truth.”

She made another one of those noises in response, somewhere between protest and acceptance.

They drove in silence for a few minutes; then she cocked her head to the side and asked, “Did you really get a bread machine for Christmas too?”

“Actually mine was a toaster oven.”

She nodded thoughtfully as he pulled his truck to a stop in front of the big house.

Jessie had her door open before he even cut the engine. She grabbed the brightly colored present and the brown paper grocery bag that she'd brought along, then tossed a small white envelope in his direction. The fat little bundle hit his lap with a small
thwack
.

“Now we're even,” she said, slamming the door shut, leaving Seth to stare at the stack of twenties nearly an inch thick.

“Jessie—” He broke off as she shook her head.

“Don't say anything, Seth. Just let me do this. I
need
to do this.” Without sparing him the smallest glance, she turned on the heel of her boot and hurried toward the house.

S
eth caught up with her, just as she reached the steps leading to the door to the ranch house.

“Wait up,” he said, snagging her arm before she could escape the many, many questions he had. Like where she'd gotten that kind of money.

“Just leave it, Seth,” she said without turning around, without looking at him at all. Damn. That pride had kicked in again. Her freckled shoulders were stiff, her back ramrod straight as if she had just been led in front of the firing squad.

“Jessie. You know I can't take this money.”

“That was the agreement.”

“You and I both know that Chase will forget about this in a day or two—”

“Well, I won't.”

“Where'd you get this money, Jess?” he asked quietly.

She lifted one shoulder. Like that was any kind of an answer.

“Jessie.”

“I've been saving a little here and there.”

“A little? There's over four thousand dollars in this envelope,” he said, smacking it against his thigh. It cracked like a whip.

She shook her head, refusing to answer.

“Jessie,” he started, his quiet voice sounding overloud in the cool shade of the porch. “Why are you letting everybody think that you did it?”

She shrugged again. “Everyone expected me to do it.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but she plowed on ahead.

“Let it go, Seth. It doesn't matter,” she said. “Because soon, I'm gonna have all the money I need to leave this town behind forever.”

Only his years of police training allowed Seth to hide his surprise. Never in his wildest dreams had he ever imagined a Cattle Creek without Jessie. To him she was as much a part of the town as the longhorn mascot of the high school football team that was painted on the water tower. Always there, true blue.

“You're leaving?”

“Did you think I was going to wait around forever?” She shrugged again. “I love him, but I'm not stupid.”

He had no chance to reply, no chance to give voice to his hope.

The front door opened. Wesley stood in the threshold looking from him to Jessie and back to him again. Then in typical Wesley fashion, she turned without a word and ran back into the house yelling, “Da-ad! Nana! Aunt Jessie and Uncle Seth are here.”

Jessie shot Seth one more look, then hustled up the steps and into the house.

Seth took a deep breath, trying to tamp down the beast that had risen inside him again. Aunt Jessie and Uncle Seth. Like they were a couple, as if they belonged together.

The creature under control once again, he started after Jessie and Wesley.

The heels of his boots scraped against the slate stone of the cool, broad portico as Seth crossed to the door of the big house. It wasn't the first ranch house. The original white clapboard with wraparound porch and squeaky screen door was a quarter of a mile or so down the dusty ranch road. And though it had been good enough for her parents, it was not worthy of JT Langston's bride, so he'd built her a new house with her own dowry. The Duvalls continued to live in the cozy three-bedroom, and the Langstons resided in the expansive ranch house reinforced with Oklahoma sandstone.

To Seth, it was home. He loved spacious rooms and tall, cedar-beamed ceilings. It smelled like vanilla and leather and family. There had been so many good times here, both before and after his father died. There had been lots of sad times too. Maybe that was why walking through those big oak doors was like being embraced by every good and honest thing he had ever known. He'd missed it during all his time in San Diego and had rediscovered it when he returned to Texas.

“Seth, is that you?” his mother called to him from the back of the sprawling house.

“It's me, Mama.” He took off his hat and started through the spacious living room with its oversize leather furniture, cowhide throw pillows, and brightly pattered Navaho blankets.

“Did you remember the ice cream?”

“Yes, ma'am.” He followed the sound of her voice and the delicious smell of sweet birthday cake to the warm, homey kitchen.

For the most part, the kitchen was open and airy with an earthy terra-cotta tile floor and all the modern conveniences that money could buy. A ristra of dark, wrinkled peppers hung in the corner between the two uncovered windows. One looked out over the ranch yard and the well-worn path to the horse barn. The other had a view of the
side yard and the sparkling blue swimming pool Jake had installed as a fiftieth birthday present for their mother.

“I'm glad you're here. Millie's been asking about you.”

I'm sure she has.
He set his hat on the table, stowed the melting ice cream in the freezer, then kissed his mother on her proffered cheek. The combined smells of White Shoulders and prized horseflesh greeted Seth like an old friend.

Five foot four, petite, and blond, Evelyn Duvall Langston looked like a delicately aging rodeo queen instead of a devoted mother and grandmother. Dressed in a red silk blouse and dark-wash jeans, a snake-hide belt with a glittery buckle encircling her trim hips, she could have posed for
Country Living
magazine. But from the tips of her Nacoma boots to the top of her perfectly coiffed hair, she was a horsewoman at heart. There was a power in her that was almost tangible and spoke of more than just her triumph over breast cancer. She was tender and strong, the matriarch of the Diamond and the reigning queen of Page County. She had been before she married JT Langston and she remained so all these years after his death. Neighbors and friends wanted her to run for mayor of Cattle Creek, but Jake joked that the decrease in power would kill her.

“Did Jessie come through here?” Seth asked.

“She put her bag on the table and then went out back with Wesley. Tore through here like the devil was on her tail.”

Chicken, Seth thought. Dump forty-three hundred dollars in his lap—literally—and then head out the back way.

“I suppose these are supplies to make her infamous punch?” Evelyn asked, fingering the edge of the brown paper grocery sack that Jessie had abandoned. “Do you think I should look and see what the secret ingredient is?”

“Not if you value your life.”

“That girl is such a mess.” Evelyn smiled affectionately, taking some of the sting from her words. “I guess she gets that from her daddy. Her mama was a wild one, but she wasn't so . . . so . . .”

Prideful? Hardheaded? Beautiful? Sexy?

“Feisty?” he finished.

“Mmm-hmm,” his mother murmured as she casually turned her attention back to the final touches of Wesley's birthday cake. “There's a rumor going around that you arrested her night before last.” The words held no more weight than the evening weather report. But Seth knew . . .

He made a great show out of unloading the bag that contained Wesley's birthday present, hoping he appeared too busy to answer.

“Did you really do that?”

He took a deep breath and braced his hands on his hips. “She confessed, Mama.” There was no need going into the whole obstruction of justice thing. His mother would definitely not understand that.

She shook her head. “Well, that's no reason to go and put her in jail.”

“I'm sure there are several people that would disagree with you. Chase, for one.”

“That boy.”

Seth didn't correct her. At twenty-five years old, Chase would be considered by most to be a man. “Was he still mad when he left?”

“Chase doesn't stay mad long,” she said, then went back to the task of putting candles on the mile-wide birthday cake spread across the big wooden table. “Did she do it?”

“No.”

“And you still put her in jail?”

“She confessed, Mama.”

“I thought I raised you better than that. She's practically your family and the first chance you get, you go and lock her up.”

He didn't know how to respond to that, so he played it safe and just kept his mouth shut. After a long silence his mother continued.

“I think she's expecting you to ask her to the Cattle Days Picnic.”

He frowned. “Jessie?”

“Millie.”

“And why would she think something like that?”

“Now, Seth. You're not getting any younger. Millie's a good girl from a good family. If the two of you were married—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he said, not sure whether he should be annoyed or amused. “How did we get from a date to Cattle Days to marriage?”

“I'm just saying, that's all.” She gave a slight shrug of one shoulder. “It's high time that we had some more grandchildren around here. And you're not getting any younger.”

“I believe you've already mentioned that,” Seth replied.

“Well, it's true.”

And it was. But . . .

“Mama, I—” And just how did he finish that?
I love Jessie?
“I'll think about it,” he managed.

She tilted her head to one side in that thoughtful pose she struck when she was meddling, but trying not to appear that she was meddling. It was a look he knew well. “I wouldn't wait too long if I were you. Ethan Davis was asking about her earlier.”

“He was, huh?”

“You wouldn't want to let a fine girl like Millie slip through your fingers.”

“I don't suppose I would,” he said.

“But you're a grown man. Old enough to make your own decisions.”

“Yes, I am.”

She stared at him a moment as if she couldn't figure out why he was being so stubborn; then she went back to the fine details of the cake.

Her attention elsewhere, Seth ran one finger along the
edge of the icing for a quick taste and got a swat for his efforts.

“Seth Langston, you stay out of this cake if you know what's good for you. Grandma Esther worked all morning on it. She'll have your hide if she comes in and finds your finger tracks in it.”

“Not a problem.” He grinned. “I'll just blame it on Jake.”

“That didn't work when you were twelve, young man. It's not going to work today.”

He turned and smiled as Esther Langston entered the room. Thin and feisty, his paternal grandmother—despite her eighty-plus years—was hell on wheels on her good days and a force to be reckoned with on her not so good ones.

She pointed a gnarled finger at him. “You been in my cake?”

He plastered his best innocent look across his face. “No, ma'am.”

“Don't you lie to me, boy. You know where you go for lying?”

“Houston?”

Evelyn stifled a laugh.

Grandma Esther shook her head, then turned accusing eyes to her daughter-in-law. “Too much cheek, that one. Now come over here and give your grandmother a kiss.”

Seth did as he was told, bestowing a small, affectionate peck on her wrinkled forehead. Despite her sass and brass, she had a marshmallow center, and he loved the old bird with all his heart.

“Cake looks real good, Grandma.”

She harrumphed and started criticizing Evelyn's candle placement. But his mother was used to her and kept right on doing as she pleased.

“Where's my brother?”

“New Mexico,” Evelyn answered without missing a beat.

He didn't know whether she was being deliberately
obtuse as a joke or she was so consumed with Chase that she automatically thought of him first. He was afraid it was the latter. “My
other
brother.”

She looked up from the cake, her eyes sad, her lips pressed together in a thin line. “He's in his office.”

“Is he okay?”

“As well as can be expected. Each year I think it gets a little easier. But he puts on a brave face for Wesley's sake, so it's hard to say for sure.”

Seth nodded. “I'll go see about him.”

“That one's crooked, Evie.”

“What about Millie?” his mother asked as she adjusted the candle and he headed out of the kitchen.

“I'll only be a minute.”

“And then you'll go find her?”

“You need more sprinkles on this side here,” Grandma said.

“It's a possibility,” Seth answered.

“And ask her to the Cattle Days Picnic?” Evelyn shook more sprinkles on the left side of the cake.

“We'll see, Mama,” he said, then started down the hallway to Jake's office.

He rapped twice on the thick wooden door, then stepped inside at his brother's distracted-sounding summons to enter.

If there was nothing like coming home, then surely there was nothing at all like entering the enormous office that had once been JT Langston's and now belonged to his second eldest son. Aside from Jake's framed diplomas that hung on the wall to the left and a snapshot of Wesley that sat on the large mahogany desk, Seth would bet that nothing had changed since his father's death nearly fifteen years ago. Stepping inside was like stepping back in time. But in a good way.

Not that the ranch was running the same as it had been in his father's day. No, Jake had taken the Diamond into
the twenty-first century and beyond. He worked long and hard—probably too long and too hard, given the fact that it was his daughter's fifth birthday celebration, and he was chained to his desk.