Texas Heroes: Volume 1 (3 page)

“No one else is going to have this place, especially the Caswells. But you don’t know what you’re getting into. You’ll be stir-crazy in a week.”

“I’m a big girl. You let me worry about myself.”

Boone’s jaw pulsed. After a long silence, he nodded his head. “Fine, then. We’ll just have to make do until it’s over. I can stay out in the barn.”

Maddie bristled. She’d been measured and found wanting, yet again—this time by a man who didn’t even know her. “You don’t have to stay in the barn. Surely that house is big enough for both of us for thirty days.” Then her temper started to simmer again. “You don’t know anything about me, but you’ve already decided my future.”

His blue eyes didn’t soften. “Can you honestly tell me you want to spend your life in a place like this?” A sweep of his arm took in the horizon and stark, sun-baked earth.

For as far as Maddie could see, there was not one other house, certainly no theaters or fine dining or museums. And absolutely nowhere for her to use her skills as a chef. Of course she didn’t want to stay. She would be gone as soon as the thirty days were over.

But his pigheaded certainty galled her, and she would rise to the challenge. Like the optimist she’d always been, Maddie refused to make this less than an adventure, despite the glowering man beside her. She’d do better than endure this stay, and when she left to go back to her chosen environment, she’d have stories to tell for years.

Maddie the Cowgirl. The phrase had a certain ring, and it made her smile. “No, I don’t want to spend my life in a place like this. But don’t write me off, Boone Gallagher. You may think you know city girls, but you’ve never met Maddie Rose Collins.” She turned to follow Vondell, calling back over her shoulder in imitation. “You comin’, Boone?”

When she glanced back, he was still standing there staring at her, hands on lean hips, shoulders broader than the Brooklyn Bridge. So rugged and handsome her mouth went dry.

“You’re wrong, Maddie Rose. I know everything I need to know about you. You’re a city girl, used to fine things and lots of entertainment. Bright lights and noise and bustle. You’ll hate this place, just like—” He broke off.

“Just like who?”

“Never mind. Go on inside. I’ll take care of the calf.” He turned his back and headed away.

It was shaping up to be a long thirty days. Stuck with Mr. Personality in the middle of nowhere when all she had wanted was peace and quiet.

Ah, well. A good chef improvised with whatever ingredients she had at hand.

And Maddie Rose was a very good chef.

Having this land under his feet again felt good. He’d known when he shipped off on the tanker that his absence was only temporary, but after his wife Helen died, the sea was as far as he could get from this place where so much had gone wrong. He’d have traveled to the moon if he could have found transportation.

This land was part of him—when he was growing up he’d never expected to live anywhere else. Then his mother had died, and their world had collapsed. After graduation he’d joined the Navy and found a new home there as a SEAL. The teams had become the family he’d lost—until the mission that had nearly killed him. After losing his career, he’d come back here with a wife who had expected something more than a cowboy…only to lose her, too.

He was fundamentally changed from the boy who had roamed these acres, yet he’d expected to find everything he’d left the same.

Sucker
.

He was too damn tired to think anymore. Instead he’d concentrate on the task at hand: the calf.

The calluses on his hands served him well, since he hadn’t come home carrying gloves in his back pocket as had once been second nature. He found a rope in the closest barn and ointment in the big barn. He tied up the cow so she couldn’t interfere while he freed the calf, and he kept the little guy in place between his knees so he would have both hands available.

Once he’d been renowned for his prowess with animals, horses especially. He’d had a calming way with them even as a kid.

But cows weren’t nearly as smart as horses, and this panicked calf strained Boone’s resolve. Over and over he spoke in soothing tones and stroked the calf until he stilled enough. At last Boone got him free, then set to work doctoring his cuts. The cow protested, and the calf bawled, but Boone persisted until he was done.

“There, little guy,” he said, letting the calf up.

The calf scrambled away about ten feet, eyeing Boone with suspicion before seeking the shelter of his mother’s side. Boone approached her carefully and slipped the rope from around her neck, then slapped her on the rump and shooed them both away.

Barbed wire left lying on the ground inside a pasture. His father would have fired a man on the spot. Just how bad were things? And where were all the hands?

Boone rubbed his eyes, wishing he had his old straw hat. He’d walked away from everything when he left, and Sam had probably burned it all. But he was too tired to look for any of it now. He needed to hit the sack and sleep around the clock, then get up to see what he’d inherited.

Why did it all go so wrong, Dad? Did you hate us so much you couldn’t even leave us the only place that ever felt like home?

Instead Sam had left it to a woman who couldn’t possibly appreciate it. A woman who didn’t belong. Maddie had said it was payment for a wrong Sam had done her father. What on earth had Sam done?

Too many questions. Too little sleep. The house wavered in his vision.

Get inside, Boone. You can move to the barn tomorrow. Right now you’re no good to anyone without some rest
.

But first he had to see if he could find Sam’s foreman Jim Caskey or any of the hands. He needed to understand where things stood. Placing one foot in front of the other, Boone didn’t look back toward the house that had once been all he’d wanted of heaven…until the day it had turned into hell.

Chapter Two

W
hen Maddie stepped inside the back door and saw the kitchen, it only confirmed her first impression. This house would never make the pages of
Architectural Digest
, but she could swear she felt the pulse of generations in this room.

To think that her grandmother had cooked here…even saying the word
grandmother
gave Maddie a charge. To a woman who had never known any family but her mother and father, lost in a plane crash four years ago, the concept was almost unimaginable.

Maddie ran a hand across the counter and wondered if her grandmother’s hand had touched this very spot. For a moment she went still as though by listening carefully, she might hear the whispers of her father’s hidden past.

Suddenly, Maddie realized that Vondell was watching her closely. She jerked her hand away as if burned. “I’m sorry.”

“No need to be, child. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Maddie smiled. “Did you know my grandmother Wheeler?”

“Old Rose?” Vondell nodded. “Not well, but everyone knew the story. After Dalton…” She fell silent. “Well, never mind about that.”

Maddie’s heart stuttered. These people believed her father a murderer. “I know what you’re thinking, but he didn’t kill anyone. Sam’s lawyer was satisfied about that.”

“Well, it’s not my place to be talking about Dalton Wheeler.” Vondell turned away toward the refrigerator, dropping ice cubes into a glass. “I’ll get you that tea that I promised you.”

“You don’t believe me.”

“Hon, I—it’s just that for years, everyone knew—well, it’ll take some getting used to, is all. But it’s old news. It really doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter. It matters to me. The man I knew never even got a traffic ticket. Did you know him?”

The tiny redhead shook her head. “That was before I moved here. It was a long time ago, Maddie. Water under the bridge.”

Vondell was being kind, but once again Maddie felt very much alone, very much the outsider. Very sorry she had agreed to come. She remembered the brief, unguarded glance she’d had into Boone’s blue eyes. That man had been hurt badly by his father. Now she was helping to hurt him more.
Why did you do this to me, Sam Gallagher?
How could a man who would seek to make peace with a total stranger use that stranger to hurt his own son?

“Here, child, sit down and drink this tea.” Vondell placed the glass in her hand.

Maddie took a sip, vaguely registering the cool freshness of mint. She watched moisture bead on the outside and thought of her daydream of porch swings and iced tea. This sure wasn’t the vacation she’d expected. Her head jerked up.

“Why didn’t he just give the house to his sons, no matter what he owed my father?”

“Sam was powerfully troubled in his last weeks, and he seemed determined to make things right.”

“But why didn’t Boone know about this already?”

“Sam waited too long to let anyone contact him.” Vondell’s eyes darkened. “Sam has a lot to answer for, the way he treated those boys. I can’t explain Sam Gallagher to you, Maddie. I doubt anyone could. He was a complicated man who was never the same after his wife Jenny died. He destroyed a whole family in his selfish grief, just flat abandoned Boone, who was only fourteen at the time, and tried to have Mitch arrested when any fool could see her death was an accident.

“I’ve never seen anyone lose his mind in grief like that. If it hadn’t been for Boone, Sam would have lost this place, too. Young as he was, Boone kept this place running until Sam took the reins again. But Sam was never the same after that, and he lost two fine sons anyone would be proud to claim.”

Vondell brushed away angry tears, her eyes sparking. “I kept trying to talk sense into that man, but a more stubborn sonofagun never walked the face of this planet. When Boone left, I think Sam realized some of what he’d lost, but he just hardened his heart and went on as if those boys had never existed. If I hadn’t gotten in touch with Boone back when Sam had his heart attack a few years ago, I don’t guess they would have ever spoken again. And the way things turned out, maybe Boone would have been better off.”

“What do you mean?”

Vondell rose and reached out for her apron, tying it around her waist. “That’s not really for me to tell. If Boone wants to, that’s his business.”

Maddie shook her head. “I doubt Boone will want to give me the time of day, and I don’t think I blame him. The best thing I can do is to pass my thirty days and get out of his way.”

Vondell turned to face her. “You don’t think you’ll want this place?”

Maddie had to smile at that. “No offense, but I can’t imagine it. There’s not much demand for a chef in a place like Morning Star.”

The older woman’s eyebrows rose. “You mean you’re one of those fancy cooks like Paula Deen or that Italian girl who uses leeks and such?”

“I cook with all sorts of ingredients. I’m not a snob about food. I just want it fresh and wholesome.”

“Well, that about sums up my cooking. Most of what I cook comes from my garden and the stock raised here.”

“You have a garden?” Maddie’s pulse sped up. Her dream was her own restaurant with a greenhouse where she could control the quality of her food more closely. She actually was a supporter of the slow food movement, using ingredients grown in the surrounding area. “What do you grow?”