Heart of Texas Volume One (17 page)

Ten minutes later Glen found her in the storeroom going through the order. “Richard's gone?” she asked.

“Yeah. He hasn't changed much, has he?”

“How do you mean?”

Glen didn't answer until she glanced up from the clipboard.

“He's a wheeler-dealer.”

“So I noticed,” she said with a chuckle. She fanned her face and deliberately expelled a breath.

“Hey, what does that mean?”

“What do you
think
it means?”

Glen thought about that for a moment, and either didn't get it or wasn't willing to say it out loud.

“Let's put it like this,” Ellie said. “Richard Weston was interested in a whole lot more than lunch.”

Glen's eyes widened considerably.

“Why does that shock you? Does it surprise you to realize other men might look on me as more than one of the guys?”

Again he took his time responding. “Not really. You're about the best damn friend I've ever had. And you're game for just about anything.”

“Within limits,” she said, thinking of Richard's proposal.

“Within limits,” Glen agreed, then laughed. “Hell, maybe it isn't such a bad idea, after all.”

“You and me?”

He looked stunned. “Hell, no. You and Richard.”

S
UNDAY MORNING
M
AGGIE
slipped into Savannah's pew and leaned against her just as Wade McMillen approached the pulpit. Slipping an arm around the child, Savannah pulled her close, acknowledging just how much she'd come to love her friend's daughter. They'd formed a special bond, and it wasn't unusual for Maggie to sit with Savannah during church services.

A talented speaker, Wade often used humor in his sermons. The theme of this morning's talk revolved around the opportunities God presented. Savannah found herself laughing along with the rest of the congregation as Wade relayed the story of a man stuck on a rooftop in a flash flood.

Three times a rescue team had come for him, and each time the man insisted that God would provide. The man died and went to heaven and confronted the Lord, demanding to know why his faith had gone unanswered.

“I sent the Red Cross, a boat and a helicopter,” God told him. “What more could I have done?”

Wade had a way of communicating truth without being obtrusive, dogmatic or self-righteous. Savannah often wondered why he remained unmarried when any number of eligible young women in Promise would have been thrilled to be his wife. It was a frequent source of interest, gossip and speculation at any gathering of church members.

Maggie squirmed as the sermon drew to a close. She smiled up at Savannah and silently turned the pages of her hymnal, waiting until the choir stood to sing and she could see her mother.

The love she felt for this child poured through Savannah's heart, and with it a desire so deep and so long denied that it bordered on pain. Until she'd met Laredo, she'd relinquished the dream of ever becoming a bride—and, of course, along with that, a mother.

The yearning to bear a child of her own burned in her heart now. She closed her eyes and her mind instantly filled with the image of a young boy of five or six. He was dressed in jeans, a shirt, hat and boots, a miniature version of Laredo. The child trailed after him as they headed toward the corral. Father and son. Their child, hers and Laredo's. The thought moved her so strongly, she battled back a sudden urge to weep. Savannah felt a thrill of pure happiness at the sheer wonder of having found Laredo.

What a wonderful husband and father he'd be. Laredo had been patient and gentle with Maggie from the first, while Grady groped clumsily in his effort to make friends with the little girl. Laredo was a natural with children, and it was easy to imagine him surrounded by a whole brood of them.

Most important of all Laredo loved her. She was confident of that. Not that he openly confessed his feelings. But Savannah didn't need a formal declaration or flowery words to know how he felt. A hundred times, more, he'd shown her his feelings.

Laredo was protective of her, his manner traditional in the very best way. He was thoughtful and considerate, sensitive to her moods and needs. As far as Savannah was concerned, his actions spoke far more eloquently than anything he could ever say. Last week, for instance, while she was working on the design for her catalog, he'd brought in a cup of coffee, set it on the desk beside her, kissed her cheek and silently left the room. Another day he'd seen her carrying a heavy load of laundry outside to hang on the clothesline, and he'd rushed to her side and carried it for her.

Wiley had teased Laredo unmercifully that day, pretending he was in dire need of assistance, mincing around and flapping his hands in a ridiculous imitation of a woman in distress. Laredo had paid no attention to his antics.

After the Sunday service was dismissed, Caroline met Savannah in the front of the church. “I thought you said Richard was coming with you this morning,” her friend said.

“I thought he would.” Savannah was deeply disappointed in her younger brother. Grady was barely speaking to her, which was nothing new, and all because she continued to champion her brother's cause. Despite Richard's reprehensible actions, he
was
their brother. No matter what he'd done, she wouldn't allow Grady to throw him off the ranch. He had nowhere else to go. He'd told her he was still waiting for the money that was supposed to be in the mail; he seemed so sure it would be arriving any day. Because she believed him—
had
to believe him—she'd lent him money herself, although she didn't let Grady or Laredo know that.

“Do you think he's ever going to change?” Caroline asked. “I'm just so afraid that if you trust him, you might be setting yourself up for heartache.”

“He's my brother,” Savannah said simply. She was convinced that their mother, had she been alive, wouldn't have allowed Grady to kick Richard out, either.

“There's something different about you,” Caroline said when she reached her car.

“Different?” Although she formed the word as a question, Savannah knew what Caroline meant. And it was true. She wasn't the same woman she'd been as little as a month ago. “I'm happy,” she said, blushing profusely. “Really truly happy.”

“Laredo?” Caroline asked.

Savannah lowered her eyes and nodded.

“I like Laredo,” Maggie announced. “And Richard.”

“What about Grady?” Caroline coaxed her daughter.

Maggie pinched her lips together rightly. “Grady's…okay, I guess, but he yells too much.”

“I don't think she's forgiven him for shouting at her over the phone. I've tried to explain that he's—”

“A beast like from
Beauty and the Beast,
” Maggie supplied. “I don't care if he
is
a handsome prince. When he yells I have to cover my ears.”

“Oh, Maggie,” Savannah whispered, feeling wretched. “Grady likes you very much and wants to be your friend, too.”

“Then he shouldn't shout at me on the phone,” she said in an eminently reasonable tone.

Savannah wanted to shake Grady. She didn't know what had possessed him to explode at Maggie. His only excuse, weak as it was, had something to do with not knowing who was on the other end of the line.

It was getting to the point that she barely knew what to think of her own brother. She wasn't sure who'd changed the most in the past few weeks, Grady or her. She knew having Richard around troubled him, and while Grady talked about throwing Richard out, she sensed that he struggled with what was right the same way she did. Richard was a charmer, but of the two men, Grady was the one with heart.

“Would you like to join us for dinner?” Savannah asked her friends, thinking it might help Maggie feel more comfortable with Grady. “I've got a huge roast in the oven, and fresh-strawberry shortcake.”

“Mmm.” Maggie licked her lips. “Strawberries are my favorite.” Wide-eyed, she looked up at her mother.

“Not today, Savannah, I'll take a rain check.”

“But, Mommy…”

Maggie's disappointment was a soothing balm to Savannah's own. Since the phone incident Caroline hadn't been out to the ranch Whenever Savannah suggested she visit, her friend came up with a convenient excuse, or in this instance, just a polite refusal. It bothered Savannah and she hoped the uneasiness between Grady and Maggie would soon resolve itself.

When Savannah arrived back at the ranch, she discovered Richard sitting on the porch, strumming his guitar and singing softly. He stopped and waved when she pulled into the yard, then strolled over to the truck.

“Where were you all morning?” he asked as if her disappearance had worried him.

“Church. I thought you said you were coming with me.”

“I would've if you'd woken me up.”

“You're an adult, Richard.”

His fingers stilled, the pick poised above the guitar strings. “You're not angry with me, are you?”

She sighed. “No.”

He grinned boyishly and continued his song while Savannah went into the house. She set her Bible aside and checked the oven. The noonday meal was the primary one on Sundays. In the evening they all fended for themselves, giving Savannah time to pursue her own interests.

An hour later Savannah served the roast and dished up hot-from-the-oven buttermilk biscuits, mashed potatoes and gravy, corn, a large green salad and strawberry shortcake for dessert. The meal vanished in minutes with lavish compliments from Richard and quiet appreciation from Laredo, Wiley and Grady.

Everyone disappeared afterward, leaving Savannah to herself. The afternoon was lovely, the sky blue and bright, the sun warm without the intense heat of summer. Spring was Savannah's favorite time of year. After spending an hour in her garden, she arranged a vase of roses and set them in the kitchen, allowing their fragrance to fill the room.

When she'd finished, she picked up her knitting and sat on the porch, Rocket stretched out beside her. There was silence all around her, except for the soughing of wind in the greening trees and the occasional distant sound of traffic from the highway. Without informing anyone of his plans, Richard had disappeared. Grady had vanished into his office to catch up on some reading and Wiley was visiting his widow friend in Brewster. She didn't know where Laredo had gone, but she hoped he'd join her, as he often did.

Enjoying the Sunday-afternoon tranquility, Savannah lazily worked the yarn and needles. It didn't take long for Wade McMillen's message to make its way into her thoughts.
God-given opportunities.
She mulled over the opportunities that had recently come her way. Quickly, inevitably, Laredo sprang to her mind.

Deeply absorbed in her thoughts, she wasn't aware of his approach until he stepped onto the porch.

“It's a lovely afternoon, isn't it?” she said, delighted when he claimed the empty rocker beside hers. For as long as she could remember, her parents had sat in these very chairs, side by side, lifelong companions, lovers and friends.

Laredo watched her hands moving the needles and the yarn. “My mother knits, too,” he said.

“My grandmother was the one who taught me.” She reached for the pattern book and showed him the cardigan she was making for Maggie. The needles clicked gently as she returned to her task.

“Church this morning was great,” she went on. “I enjoy Wade's sermons.” She told him about the man in the flood, and Laredo laughed at the punch line, just as she knew he would. Someday she hoped Laredo would attend services with her, but she hadn't had the courage to ask him. Not yet.

Courage. She'd missed opportunity after opportunity in her life because she was afraid. Afraid of what, exactly, she didn't know. No more, she decided then and there.

“Wade got me to thinking,” she said. If she didn't tell Laredo what was in her heart now, she'd always regret letting this opportunity slip by. She used her knitting as an excuse to avoid eye contact.

“Thinking?”

“About the opportunities that have come into my life… lately.”

Laredo leaned back in the rocker and relaxed, closing his eyes.

“I've never dated much,” she said. “I suppose it shows, doesn't it?”

He lifted his hat brim enough to look at her. “It's not a disadvantage, if that's what you're asking.”

She
felt
at a disadvantage, though, talking to him about such things, but forged ahead, anyway. “It's a bit of a detriment,” she said, trying to disguise the trembling in her voice. Her heart beat so fast she felt nearly breathless.

“I wouldn't want to change anything about you, Savannah.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, encouraged by his response.

He apparently thought their conversation was over, because he sat back in the chair once more, stretched out his legs and lowered the brim of his hat.

“There's something I need to say and I'm not sure how to go about it.” Her fingers felt clammy and stiff, and she let the knitting lie idle in her lap as she composed her thoughts.

“You can tell me anything, you know that.”

Despite the turbulent pounding of her heart, Savannah felt a sense of calm. “Since I don't have much experience in this kind of situation, I hope you'll forgive me for speaking frankly.”

She had his attention now, and he lifted the brim of his Stetson with one finger. “Situation?”

Gripping the knitting needles tightly, she continued, “I need to know if there's a proper way for a lady to speak of certain…matters with a gentleman. Matters of the heart,” she added nervously.

Laredo's position didn't alter, but she thought she saw him stiffen. “That part I wouldn't know.”

“I see.” Her mouth grew dry with anxiety.

An awkward silence followed while she carefully weighed her words. “Considering that you seem to be as much at a loss as I am, perhaps the best way to discuss this would be in a straightforward manner. My mother used to say, ‘Nothing works better than the truth.'”

“Savannah…”

He tried to stop her, but she wouldn't let him, not while she had the courage to go on. Inhaling deeply, she began to speak. “I love you, Laredo. My heart's so full, some days I don't think I can contain all this joy. I want to thank you, to let you know how grateful I am to have met you.”