Goodnight Kisses (2 page)

Not knowing her own father made her
hunger for a father
figure,
and she knew Charlie Mackenna
would have made a difference in her life. A larger than life
character from a Louis L’Amour novel, that’s the way she thought of
him. Courageous, and brave. True to his word with a heart of gold.
“I wish I had known granddad.”

“Me too,” Rose sighed with the thought. “He was
handsome and strong like your McCrea. Okay,” she yielded. “I can
handle having McCrea for a grandson-in-law.”

“Grandma,” Eleanor warned.

Rose’s playfulness dwindled away.
“Just be careful, Eleanor. Marriage or not, all long lasting
relationships are built
on
trust, faithfulness and commitment.
Don’t settle for a physical relationship or anything less than
love.”

A sharp penetrating pain shot the length of her
body. What if she was in love with a man who would never love her
or be faithful to her? What if Mildred and the rest of Santa
Camino’s gossip mill were right about McCrea? What then?

“Now,” Rose clapped her hands as her eyes beamed
with friskiness. “Let me give you some advice on how to catch
him.”

Eleanor knew the story about the
day her grandparents met. Their courtship and wedding. Rose told
it
often,
and Eleanor was always eager to listen. It made
her hopeful there were still men in the world like her granddad,
and that maybe one day she would be loved with the same intensity.
“The way you caught Granddad?”

“Don’t look so skeptical. Remember, I was your age
once.” But Rose didn’t launch into her usual story. “First things
first, does McCrea know how you feel about him?”

Of course not. She was no more than an orphan kitten
he gently pushed out of his path on the way to the barn. How could
she tell Rose that hurtful truth when the old woman had such
expectation in her eyes? She couldn’t so she answered as best she
could without specifics. “I thought he might have figured it out by
now.”

Rose let out a laugh and winked. “Not likely. Men
aren’t that intuitive. If you’re serious about that boy, you need
to help him along.” Her grin turned wicked. “You know, show a
little leg and cleavage.”

“Grandma!” Eleanor gasped.

Rose let out an infectious giggle which tapered off
to a deep cleansing sigh. “Oh, it feels good to laugh.”

She jumped to her feet before Rose could divulge
more of her tips on how to catch a man, and held out her hand. “Do
you want me to help you inside before I go?”

“No. I don’t.” Rose pushed her hand away. “I’m going
to rest for a spell and then get back at it.”

She worked nonstop in the yard from early spring to
late fall. The woman was obsessed with flowers, but her perennials
and bulbs were the envy of the garden club. “Maybe you shouldn’t do
so much in this heat.”

“It’s therapy for the soul, honey.” That’s how Rose
always explained gardening to her. “You should try pulling weeds
and planting seeds.”

Shoveling out stables and tending to what livestock
they had left didn’t give Eleanor much time for pulling weeds.
“Maybe next summer.”

“Maybe,” Rose agreed.

“Do you need anything before I go?”

“If I do, I’ll get it. I’m
old,
not helpless. Go! Get out of here!” Rose ordered. Eleanor ran
to the truck for her sunglasses and paused to look over her
shoulder. Rose’s blue gloved hand waved back. The old woman looked
so thin and frail. Forgoing college was a temptation, but it was an
essential part
of
her plan to rebuild
Redemption.

Dreaming wasn’t enough. She needed
an education, to learn the ins and outs of running her own
business. When she returned in four years, she would need money
to
rebuild,
and a degree along with a strong business plan
would help. One more look to satisfy her uneasiness and found Rose
knee deep in a bed of Blackfoot Daisies. She could always come back
to Redemption. After all, this was her home. “I’ll be back in time
for supper,” she yelled and saw Rose nod.

She made a quick exit
across
the side yard and over to the fence that separated her
family’s land from the Coldiron’s. At the top, she slipped on the
shades to shield her eyes from the evening
sun,
and marveled at
the view. This was her last week at home, and she intended to enjoy
every last minute of it, even the long walk across the pasture.
Unlike Redemption, the Coldiron ranch was a well-oiled,
money-making
machine. A cattle empire started by
their
great-
great-great-granddad
, Jedidiah Coldiron.
One of Santa Camino’s founding fathers.

Built in the mid 1800’s, the main
house occupied a portion of the valley between Promise Point and a
smaller range of hills running through the property. The
Spanish-style
house was a historical landmark, with its
plaster brick
walls, walnut floors, delicately flowing
staircases and wrought iron balconies.

It was nothing like her family’s
modest white two-story farmhouse. Built generations ago by her
granddad, Sutton Mackenna, the house was a sturdy
T-shaped
design with a solid foundation, white planked siding,
a long
spindled porch across the front and a fireplace at each end.
Withstanding all sorts of calamities and hardships, it was a
reflection of the Mackenna family’s tenacity. The old house filled
her with pride and when she came home, restoring it would be her
first priority. She’d add the kitchen space Rose wanted in the
back. Install new windows, hire a
roofer,
give it a fresh coat of
white paint, and
m
aybe she would give gardening a
try,
if she had the
time.

She threw a leg over the fence,
twisted around, and jumped down to the other side. Then sprinted
across the pasture towards the barn, maneuvering past steaming
piles of manure with precision. A skill she found useful the
summer
she came to live with Rose.

The last leap landed her near the fence which
separated the main house from the barn. She hooked a boot into the
bottom of the four rails, that was the perfect height for viewing,
climbed to the top and sat down. A cool breeze filtered through the
hills, and blew against her face. She closed her eyes, drew in a
deep breath and savored the sweet, dusty smell of hay and
earth.

A truck
rolled past her and down the gravel road, covering
her in a cloud of dust. She coughed and waved a hand until the air
was clear. Cowhands, mechanics, cooks, and handymen always made it
a lively and loud place. The sound of man, machine and animal were
in perfect syncing harmony. But there were quiet times which
connected with her soul. Like when the evening sun was but a sliver
of orange against the dark green tree line or the time right before
a storm.

In a dreamy state, she let out a
long sigh and tilted her head up. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky,
and happiness enveloped her like a warm blanket. The feeling
overtook her every time she set foot on the ranch. Redemption was
home and had its own feel, but at
times
it was a lonely place
with only she and Rose to fill the empty spaces. She was a little
jealous of her neighbors. Not for how wealthy they were or how much
land they owned, but for the love they had for one another. The
family bond they shared.

Family
gave you a place in the world and made all the
hardships of life easier. There was security in knowing someone
loved you, cared for you and wanted the best for you. Rose was the
only family she had, and nearing eighty. A tiny ache nibbled at her
heart when she thought about losing her. When Rose was gone, she
would have no more family. Rex had made sure of that.

After she
came
to live with Rose,
her stepfather forbade Frances and Mallory from visiting. He also
made it clear Eleanor wasn’t welcome in their home. She missed her
mother and
sister,
but knew any attempts at a
reunion would bring Rex’s wrath down on them. He wasn’t a kind man
even to his own flesh and blood daughter, but he never accused
Mallory of being a burden or a bastard child.

Frances tried to shelter Eleanor
from his outbursts of hateful words and angry slaps across the
face, but the antidepressants prescribed by her doctor eventually
numbed her beyond caring. On a visit to Redemption, Rex dealt the
final blow when Eleanor refused to get in the car. A hit from the
back of his hand split her lip and sent her running like a caged
animal afraid of capture. She ran through rain and tears, crossing
fences, meadows and pastures until she came to the old Coldiron
home place. A refurbished two story cabin the family rented to out
of town hunters. She climbed the steps, found a dry corner and
curled up in a ball as exhaustion
overtook
her. The sound of
footsteps opened her
eyes,
and brought her focus to a young
man with rich brown eyes and a tender smile, McCrea. That summer
was the start of everything good in her life.

A whinny brought her head down and her eyes to the
wood line behind the barn. She recognized the distinct sound of his
horse. The sleek black coat of the gelding and the well-defined
build of the rider kept her attention. Playing college football had
changed McCrea’s physical appearance. He was broader through the
shoulders, and his biceps and thighs were more muscular than they
had been when he was in high school.

The man was a spectacular sight.
His wide
brow
and set jaw reminded her of an outlaw. That made
her grin, but his hips moving in rhythm with the horse’s, made her
groan. “He is so fine,” she said after he’d disappeared inside the
barn. With her head towards heaven again, Eleanor basked in the
last rays of the setting sun, and her love for the
outlaw.

“Gotcha!”

She jumped and let out a scream as
hands clamped around her waist, pulling her
backwards
and into a
set of strong arms.

“God, Jess!” she yelled, recognizing the cowboy
under the tattered pinch front hat.

“You scared the crap out of me!”

Louisa climbed the fence and sat in
the spot she had occupied. Slim build with lovely features, she was
the youngest of the three children. She was doted upon by her
parents and grandparents and protected by her older brothers, but
their attention didn’t make her spoiled or bratty. It did make her
fiercely independent and headstrong, even if she didn’t know what
she wanted to do with her life. Louisa was
complex,
but steadfast
in her views on her place in the Coldiron family. She was
confident, loyal and the best friend anyone could have. Austin
would be a lonely place without her.

“I told him not to do it.”

“Sorry, El. I couldn’t resist.”
Jess’ blue eyes dazzled in a way which caused women to stumble and
swoon. His teasing boyish charm and playfulness made him even more
appealing. He was easy
going,
and loved to flirt in a harmless
way.

He raised her back to the top of
the fence without effort, stealing her shades as he did, and took a
step up. He winced and brushed it off with a grinning wink when he
knew she noticed. Two years ago, a hard fall at the National Rodeo
Finals ended his bronc riding career and dreams of taking home the
championship. A compound fracture of the femur left him with a
slight limp, and a thigh full of pins. With one long leg, he
straddled the fence so he was facing her. “What are you doing out
here all by
your
lonesome?”

Her eyes followed McCrea from the barn to one of the
ranch work trucks. “Admiring the scenery.”

He slid the shades on and followed her eyes. “God,
you’re lusting over him again?”

“Yes, I am,” she said without an ounce of shame and
snatched the hat from his head. Somewhere along the way, her
childish infatuation for McCrea had grown into love, and her
toe-tingling desire and falling down attraction made it hard to be
around him. So, admiring him from afar seemed to be the best way to
get her daily fix.

The hat swallowed her head. “And a
lot of good it does me. He doesn’t know I’m alive.” The obstacle
threatened her bliss. She was a fool for the
man
and he hadn’t
a clue.

“Sure he does.” Jess jumped down, laid his arms over
the rail, and rested his chin on both hands. “He’s just playing
hard to get.”

“Nope.” The dingy brown hat he’d had since high
school, wobbled back and forth in a bobble head motion, and fell
over her eyes. He thinks I’m a kid.” Would McCrea ever see her as
something other than the girl next door? Or would she always be his
little sister’s annoying friend? She tilted her head back so she
could see him. “You’ve got a fat head; you know that?”

He frowned, taking offense in her claim. “My head is
just the right size, thank you, and any man with eyes could see
you’re not a kid anymore.”

“Maybe I should wear a dress to the
bachelor party.” She lifted a
jean-clad
leg and twisted her
foot from side to side. “I have decent legs.”