Linda Warren - On The Texas Border

Brewster rubbed the metal bars on the bed. “Is that it?”

“That’s it.”

“Don’t you want a raise for yourself?”

“You pay me a good salary. I have no complaints.”

There was a long pause. Jonas waited.

Finally Brewster said, “Okay, consider it done, but I want you to stay until Frank, my lawyer, and Abigail get here.”

This was too easy, Jonas thought. Brewster never gave in without an argument. What was he up to? Jonas didn’t have a clue, so he concentrated on the positive side. If he could keep his accountant, it would be worth putting up with Ms. Duncan.

But he wasn’t looking forward to it.

AS ABBY AND EARL walked down the corridor to Mr. Brewster’s room, Abby could hear Earl breathing. She stopped to talk to him, then sighed. “Earl, there’s sweat on your brow.”

He whipped out a handkerchief and mopped his face. “I’m sorry. I’m nervous.”

“There’s no need to be,” she assured him. “All you have to do is read a piece of paper. I’ll do all the talking.”

“Suits me fine.”

“Ready?”

“I guess so.”

Abby tapped on the door, and a nurse let them in. Mr. Brewster was in a special unit with round-the-clock private nurses. Today, in addition to the nurse and the patient, there were two other people in the room. A man she didn’t recognize and Jonas.

As she stared into Jonas’s turbulent eyes, something kicked awake in her lower stomach. She knew exactly what it was—desire. She had told her mother that she could coast along without those feelings, but when she looked at Jonas she felt as if she were falling into a void of pure need. Hell, maybe she was a loose woman.

“Abigail, I’m glad you’re here.” Mr. Brewster’s voice brought her sanity back. “This is Frank Foster, my attorney. He’s from McAllen.”

“Mr. Foster.” Abby acknowledged the introduction at the same time that Mr. Brewster noticed Earl.

“Turner, what are you doing here?”

“Earl is my attorney,” Abby put in quickly, “I felt I needed one.”

“Fine,” Mr. Brewster said, to her surprise. “I dictated the letter to Frank earlier this morning and it’s now in his possession. When you return, he’ll hand it over to you.”

“How can I be sure the letter isn’t bogus?”

“You have to trust me.”

Abby shook her head. “No, I can’t do that. This is too important. I want Earl to read the letter to make sure that you have kept your word.”

Mr. Brewster grunted, and the nurse quickly checked the machines attached to him. Then he spoke, “Turner’s your cousin. How can I trust that he won’t tell you what’s in the letter?”

“Earl is my guarantee that the letter is real. That’s all.”

Brewster thought for a minute. “Okay, he can read part of it, but I don’t want him reading the crucial information.”

“Fine,” Abby agreed.

Brewster turned to Foster. “There’s a room down the hall. Take Turner and let him see a portion of the letter.”

“Yes, sir,” Frank said, picking up his briefcase and heading for the door.

“Turner,” Mr. Brewster called, before Earl left the room.

Earl stopped.

“If you tell Abigail anything, I’ll make sure you never work in this town or anywhere else again. Do you get my drift?”

“Y-yes, sir,” Earl stuttered, and mopped his forehead. Abby feared he was on the verge of melting into his shoes and she’d have to carry him out of here in a wad.

“You’d better,” Mr. Brewster warned, as Earl made his escape.

“If that’s all, I’ve got to get back to the office,” Jonas said tightly.

“No, dammit,” Mr. Brewster bellowed. “I want you to talk to Abigail.”

“About what?” Abby spoke up.

“Jonas is going with you,” Mr. Brewster informed her.

Abby glanced at Jonas, saw that stubborn light in his eyes and knew he hadn’t relented on his own. Mr. Brewster had forced him. “When did this happen?”

“Just now,” Mr. Brewster answered.

“Why? He doesn’t want to go, and I don’t need him to—”

“Doesn’t matter what either one of you wants,” Brewster broke in. “He’s going.”

“Then, he can go alone,” Abby shot back. “There’s no need for me to be there.”

“Goddammit, girl, you’re trying my patience,” Brewster shouted. “You have to be there. You’re writing my memoirs. It’s the ending—or haven’t you guessed that, yet?”

Was that what this was all about? An ending to his book? Or did he really want to see his daughter? Abby wasn’t sure anymore.

“And it’s the only way you’ll find out about your father—or have you forgotten that?” he asked grumpily.

For a moment Abby had lost sight of her main goal. She suddenly remembered Holly’s words about it being bull that she didn’t need a man. Maybe she was carrying it a little too far. So what if Jonas went with her. She’d get a chance to learn more about his situation with Mr. Brewster, and she was becoming more curious by the second. She would have sworn that Jonas would never change his mind. What kind of hold did Mr. Brewster have over him?

She suddenly realized they were waiting for her answer. She swallowed. “No, no, I haven’t forgotten.”

“Good, because I’m tired of all this bickering,” Mr. Brewster said in a frustrated tone. “You two can work out the details.”

Jonas put his hat on his head. “I’ve got work to do.” With that he walked out the door.

“Insufferable bastard,” Mr. Brewster muttered. “But his bark is worse than his bite.”

Abby stared at the door. “Really, I hadn’t noticed.”

“Jonas is a hard person to get to know, but he’s very loyal.”

Abby glanced back at the elderly man. “I see. So how did you get him to change his mind?”

“You’ll have to ask him.”

She intended to. Yes, she definitely intended to find out what kind of hold Mr. Brewster had on Jonas.

As she pondered that thought, Earl returned and said the letter was authentic. There was information concerning her father and his job at Brewster Farms. It was what Abby wanted to hear. Now she faced the biggest challenge of her life—finding Mr. Brewster’s daughter.

Mr. Brewster seemed pleased, and Abby left with Earl, feeling a sense of elation. She didn’t know why, unless insanity had completely taken over her mind.

Before Earl got into his car, Abby stopped him. “Could you give me a hint as to what’s in the letter?” She didn’t want to cause Earl any problems. She was hoping for a clue to justify what she was doing.

“I’m not gonna slit my throat” was his answer. “Not even for you. Just be careful. Very careful.”

“I will,” she said. “And thanks. I realize this was hard for you.”

“Abby, I—” He seemed to reconsider, and instead said, “Don’t do this alone. Hire an investigator or something.”

Abby rolled her eyes. “Men. You’re all alike. Mr. Brewster is insisting that Jonas go with me.”

“That’s good,” he said.

“No, it isn’t,” she retorted. “I’m not putting up with Jonas’s arrogant attitude, and I intend to tell him so.”

“Abby…”

But Abby wasn’t listening. She got into her car and headed straight for Jonas’s office. They had to get a few things straight.

STANDING AT HIS WINDOW, Jonas saw her drive up in a white Accord. She slid out of the vehicle in the graceful movement he was beginning to associate with her. She wore tan slacks and a tan sleeveless top. The slacks covered long gorgeous legs, which he had glimpsed several times during the past month. The top emphasized her slender arms, and rounded breasts that drew his attention like a magnet. The blond hair and green eyes completed a package that his hands ached to unwrap. As long as he knew that and no one else did, especially Abby, everything would be fine.