Texas Secrets (11 page)

Then she rolled off her heels and sat back on the ground, smelling the tang of the tomato vines where she'd brushed them, reaching for weeds.

Around her she heard the soft call of cattle, the occasional nicker of a horse in the barn. Birds in the live oak trees around the house sang hello to the morning.

But even with all that, it was so quiet compared to what she'd known. Maddie felt the warm earth beneath her, the wind ruffling her hair, and she knew a moment of contentment so peaceful and deep that it almost seemed holy.

She closed her eyes and let the sun warm her face, the breeze kiss her lips, and in that moment, Maddie thought she knew why her father had never told her about this place. It must have torn a hole in his heart the size of Texas to grow up belonging here—and then to become a pariah.

All the anger and confusion Maddie had felt toward her father evaporated like the morning's dew in the face of the sun. She understood now why he'd done it. To speak of this place and know he could never return would have been torture.

I understand, Daddy. And I'm so very sorry
.

He must have felt like Adam cast out from Paradise. Just watching Boone and knowing how this place formed so much of who he was, seeing the pain that lingered from the years he'd been forced away, gave Maddie a sense of what leaving must have cost her father.

That he had done it to save his mother, that he had known everyone else important to him would think him a murderer, seemed to Maddie to be a deed as noble as anything she'd ever heard or read.

That Sam had denied him the chance to return was a tragedy, a betrayal of staggering proportions.

For the first time, Maddie truly understood why Sam had given her this place. He had to know what it would have cost Dalton to lose it. Sam also knew how it felt to lose Jenny. And by his actions, he had condemned her father to needless years as an outcast from both the place and the woman he loved.

But if Sam had looked for her father, what would have happened? She had been a child then. If her father had come back here, what would her life have been like? What would have happened to her, to Boone and Mitch, if Dalton and Jenny had wanted to be together?

It was all too confusing—and all water under the bridge. And much as this place now pulled at Maddie, there still remained the fact that she couldn't make a living here. She had a life and a career back East; here she had nothing but other people's broken dreams.

Drawing in a deep breath, Maddie sent a promise heavenward to her father.
I understand, Daddy, and I will soak in all of this that I can before I must leave. Someday I will tell your story to a new generation. I won't let your heritage die. I just hope you understand all the reasons why I can't possibly stay
.

Then with a heavy sigh, Maddie bent back to her weeding.

* * *

Boone drove up to the community center that night, asking himself for the fifteenth time why he wasn't at home enjoying the silence.

Maddie would be fine. She was a big girl. Jim was there. He would just watch for a while, then he would leave.

After parking his truck, Boone stepped out and heard the music blaring. How long had it been since he'd attended a dance? Helen had turned her nose up at country music—would Maddie be doing the same?

Would she mentally be poking fun at the rubes? Would the music grate on her nerves? A part of Boone readied himself to defend the people and the place he loved from mockery. These were good people. They worked hard and had little to show for their efforts, either in material goods or lifestyle options.

Simple people who were the salt of the earth. He had missed them all.

Boone nodded to various old acquaintances, noting the tipped hats and smiles. He stopped to visit with neighboring ranchers and quickly discovered word had spread of the interloper city-slicker who had come to town.

Boone was surprised to find himself defending Maddie, more surprised to find himself scanning the crowd inside for her presence.

It didn't take long.

She was a flame glowing in the darkness. Around her circled the moths, batting their wings and courting annihilation.

Boone watched her. And he burned.

Standing against a support post in the darkness, he saw the fire and the fun that was Maddie. In full gypsy regalia, Maddie reigned as belle of the ball. Her red halter top glowed against pale satin skin, the full froth of her short red and gold skirt showing off the legs that haunted his dreams.

But it was Maddie's spirit that glowed brightest as she danced and laughed. She didn't know the steps—that much was obvious—but her good nature and natural grace made it unimportant. Surrounded by partners more than willing to teach her, Maddie learned quickly. He watched her do the Cotton-Eyed Joe and the schottische, her legs flashing and drawing every male eye in the place. When she missed a step, her laughter brought smiles to every face.

Maddie's easy affection charmed them all. Sour old women found no fault, for Maddie was unfailingly polite and never favored anyone. She could not be branded easy, but her sensuality wove a spell around every man in the hall. Yet the women smiled at her laughter, at her willingness to poke fun at herself.

The City Girl had made herself at home.

Boone watched his neighbors with amazement, these people who were never rude but didn't take kindly to strangers. One by one, they accepted Maddie into the fold.

It was torture to watch her, to see her move into the arms of old men and boys, young studs eager to show off and mature men who wanted to claim her.

He wanted to step out of the darkness and tell every one of them to get lost.

But Maddie wasn't his. She was only visiting.

Boone felt a gaze on him and turned to the left. Jim nodded toward Maddie and lifted his beer in a salute. His taunting challenge hung in the air.

First thing tomorrow, Boone was sending Jim to walk the miles of fence line. Not ride. Walk.

He merely lifted a negligent eyebrow and turned away from his foreman.

He felt it the moment Maddie saw him.

Her gaze halted on his before moving back to the cowboy whose hand rested on her hip. Boone ground his teeth and meant to look away.

But he couldn't.

Instead, he glared at the man who had the nerve to touch her, even while he recognized that Maddie was a free agent.

He had no claim on her. He never would.

Tearing his gaze away, Boone turned to the first person he saw, Emma Ruth Rodgers. Sixty-five if she was a day, Emma Ruth had never married but had educated many a child in this town, including Boone.

"How are you, Ms. Rodgers?"

"Boone Gallagher, as I live and breathe. It's good to have you back."

Her eagerness warmed him. "Thank you. It's good to be here."

"I'm sorry about your father."

Boone tensed, then muttered the expected. "He'd been sick for a while."

"No, Boone, I mean I'm sorry about this mess he's left you. Sam Gallagher used to be a lovely young man, one of this town's real treasures, but he changed after your mother died. He was wrong in what he did to you and Mitch."

Boone's surprise must have shown, for she carried on. "You thought no one noticed? People noticed, all right, but it isn't our way to interfere. Maybe we should have done something. We don't have so much that we can afford to lose good men like yourself and your brother."

Boone was sure his mouth must be hanging open. He cleared his throat. "Well...thank you."

She waved it away. "No need to thank me. I'm as guilty as any for standing aside. But I don't intend to stand aside now. If you need any help getting rid of that Yankee, you just let me know."

Just then, Boone felt a hand on his arm and turned.
That Yankee
stood beside him, her smile fading.

"Uh...Ms. Rodgers, this is Maddie Rose Collins."

"You're Dalton Wheeler's daughter, is that right?"

Maddie gripped Boone's arm tightly, but drew herself up very straight. "Yes, I am." Her tone dared the woman to say anything derogatory.

"Hmmmph," Emma Ruth muttered. "Sam created a mess for Boone."

Boone saw Maddie swallow and struggle for composure. When she spoke, her tone held a bite. "My father didn't kill anyone, Mrs.—?"

"Rodgers.
Ms
. Rodgers." Emma Ruth's tone broadcast her doubts. "Everyone has known for years that—"

"My father did a noble deed," Maddie interrupted, her silver eyes flashing fire. "He took the blame for something he didn't do so that his mother wouldn't go to jail for defending herself."

"The Caswells are a respected family around here."

Maddie's jaw jutted. "I can't respect a man who beats on women."

Emma Ruth's nostrils flared. Her color rose. She opened her mouth to retort, but Boone stepped in.

"It's true, Ms. Rodgers. Dalton didn't hurt anyone. Folks were wrong in what they thought. He took the blame and exiled himself to keep his mother safe."

Boone saw Maddie's startled glance, the look of gratitude in her gaze. He turned back to see Emma Ruth's frown.

"Surely you can't condone what your father did, giving your house to a—"

In another situation, Boone would have laughed at how Maddie puffed up like mama hen, prepared to defend Sam. Instead, he stepped in to defuse the situation.

"Ms. Rodgers, I can't control what my father did or didn't do. All I can do is deal with it. Ms. Collins is caught in a bad situation and is doing her best. Now if you'll excuse us, I believe Ms. Collins has promised me this dance." Then he turned and led Maddie away.

She was fuming. "That old biddy. Is that how they all feel? Like I'm an interloper? The daughter of a murderer who's come to feed off the remains like a vulture?"

He pulled her into a dark corner, then grabbed her shoulders and turned her to face him.

Tears welled in her eyes, and he couldn't stand it.

"She doesn't matter, Maddie. People talk. Around here, they don't have much else to do."

"It
does
matter. I can't stand that they're thinking about my father that way. He did nothing wrong. He gave up everything that mattered to him. I don't know why he would love this place, when people are so ready to believe the worst of him. It's not right. I have to defend—" She turned away, ready to head back toward Emma Ruth.

He gripped her tightly and pulled her against him, cupping her cheek with one hand. "Listen to me."

Maddie's face held mutiny, but slowly, she lifted her gaze. The hurt he saw there touched him.

"We know the truth, you and I. What does it matter to you, when you'll be leaving? They're just a bunch of country people who will never set foot in one of your restaurants. Why do you care?"

Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. "I care. For the sake of my father and grandmother, I care. They would have cared. These were their neighbors. They would have been mine, too, if—"

Boone stroked her jaw. "No, they wouldn't have. If Dalton had stayed, you wouldn't have been born."

Maddie glanced away, her head shaking slowly from side to side. "I don't belong here," she whispered.

He knew that, only too well. But he had to do something to ease her pain. "I'll make them understand, Maddie. I'll make sure they know what your father gave up."

She turned a look on him so luminous and grateful that Boone stood, transfixed. For a long moment, she studied him as if trying to understand him.

"Why would you do that?"

"It's only fair."

"I've caused you a lot of problems. I know you'll be glad for me to leave."

Tempting words stuck in his throat.
You don't have to leave. You could stay
. If only he didn't know better, know what it would cost her in the long run.

"You didn't make this situation. Neither of us did."

She smiled sadly. "A few more weeks and it's over." She sounded relieved.

Boone dropped his hand and stepped back. "Yeah. Not that long." Not long, hell. Eternity. When viewed through the glass of time spent trying to resist Maddie, the days stretched out forever.

Twenty-five days of too much...and not nearly enough.

She turned away and watched the dance floor, where the band was tuning up again. She drew in a deep breath, then shuddered, seeming to arm herself.

Finally she spoke, her voice wistful. "Did you mean that about the next dance?"

The last thing he needed was to hold Maddie in his arms, but he'd just have to hope the next dance was a fast one. No matter what he knew was smart, he couldn't refuse her. "Sure."

Her smile blinded him. "You like to dance?"

Boone shrugged. "I get along."

Some of Maddie's sparkle flared. She grabbed his hand and pulled. "Well, come on, cowboy. Let's dance."

Despite his better sense, Boone gripped her hand and headed for the dance floor. When the band struck up a quick two-step, he wasn't as happy as he should have been. But it didn't take long to start enjoying himself. Maddie was a graceful dancer and quickly fell in step with him. Soon they moved together as if from long experience.
"You ever done this before?" he asked.

Maddie shook her head, eyes shining. "No, but I love it."

"Hick music not too boring for you?"

She batted his shoulder. "Don't be a snob, Boone."

"Me?"

"Yes, you. I know Helen was from the city and I'm sorry she didn't like it, but you think the only people who can appreciate this place are those who were born here?"

"Don't try to tell me you like this place."

"I do like it."

"But you won't stay."

Maddie met his gaze. "I don't have to stay to like it. I'd—I'd like to come back and visit sometime." Her gaze turned hesitant. "Would that bother you?"

Hell, yes, it would bother him. Saying goodbye to her and knowing she might pop back in, anytime she pleased? That he'd get used to having her around, then she'd disappear whenever the mood took her?

She saw his reaction. Her face reflected her disappointment. "That's okay," she said casually. "It was just an idea. I probably won't get much time, anyway. I usually try to make it to Europe once a year to keep up on developments there."