“Clementine!” Rue grinned. “Now isn’t that a unique name?”
“It’s ’cause of my hair,” the little girl said. “It’s orange.”
Tripp bit back a smile when Clementine shook her head back and forth, causing the bright curls to move with the motion.
“Your hair is quite lovely and I am certainly pleased to meet you, Miss Clementine.” Rue offered a hand in greeting. “I’m Miss Rue.”
“Rue. That’s a nice name, too.” Clementine shook Rue’s hand and smiled, obviously delighted by the grown-up gesture. “Mr. Cowboy is going to show me horses.”
Rue lifted her gaze to Tripp. “Oh, are you, Mr. Cowboy?”
He knelt down next to the little girl. “You can call me Mr. Tripp.”
“Mr. Tripp.” She scrunched up her face and looked hard at him. “You are a cowboy, right?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Do cowboys keep their promises?” Clementine asked.
“Always.” He stood and turned his attention to the television screen on the wall. “What’s going on with the storm?” he asked Rue.
“Funnel touched down on Route 66. No damage reported. Looks like we’re safe. For now, only thunderstorms.”
“I like rain,” Clementine said.
“So do I.” Rue smiled at the little girl and then turned to Hannah. “You’re here to see the Maxwells?”
“Yes.”
“Did they know you were coming?”
“Um, no.” Hannah adjusted the purse on her shoulder and clasped her hands together. “This was sort of spontaneous. I drove straight from Denver.”
“That’s a long drive,” Rue returned.
“Yes. Thirteen hours.”
“We paid our respects,” Clementine interjected.
Rue’s eyes rounded, reflecting confusion and surprise at the comment. “How did you say you know the Maxwells?”
“I’m a relative.”
Rue blinked. “I wasn’t aware that they had any living relatives.”
“Neither was I... I mean, until recently,” Hannah stammered, her attention on Clementine.
“So how is it you’re related to the Maxwells, dear?”
Tripp kept his eyes on Hannah Vincent. She took a deep breath and looked up. Her gaze moved from Rue to him.
“If you don’t mind, I thought I’d discuss it with the Maxwells,” Hannah continued.
“Of course. I don’t mean to pry.”
Hannah offered a hesitant and awkward nod.
Rue glanced at Tripp and he returned her searching expression with a slight shake of his head. If she wanted answers, she was looking in the wrong direction. He didn’t have a clue and he didn’t want to know, either.
“How about a cup of coffee?” Rue asked Hannah. She picked up her own mug from the table and smiled. “Fresh pot.”
“May I please have a glass of water?” Hannah asked.
“Certainly. We’ve got chocolate muffins in the break room. Our Emma is quite the baker.” She cocked her head toward Clementine. “Would that be okay for...?”
“Yes. Thank you very much,” Hannah returned.
“Come help me, Tripp,” Rue said.
He narrowed his eyes at the good doctor, but she ignored him and started down the hall. When they entered the kitchenette, Tripp released a breath. “I smell a scam.”
“Oh, don’t be so cynical.” She paused. “Colorado is where their parents died, and where the kids went into foster care.”
“Okay, so why didn’t she call and schedule an appointment? Why surprise them on a Friday afternoon?” he asked.
“I have no idea.”
“I’ve known the Maxwells for eight years. I was their first employee. If they had family, I would have heard about it by now.” Tripp began to pace back and forth across the tiled floor as he continued to mull the situation.
Rue shrugged and reached for two glasses from the cupboard. “They’ll be here shortly, and I guess we’ll find out.”
Find out? He didn’t want to find out. This entire situation made him uneasy. Tripp pulled off his cowboy hat and ran a hand through his short hair. All he wanted to do was go back to the stables and be left alone.
He froze at the sound of the big glass door of the admin building opening and then closing with a whoosh and a dull thud. Boots echoed on the tile floor, along with soft murmuring. The Maxwells had arrived.
It was like the still before a tornado, and after thirty-four years in Oklahoma, he knew better than to stand in the path of a storm minutes before everything was getting ready to break loose.
* * *
Hannah swallowed hard as she faced the Maxwell siblings seated across the conference table from her.
Lucy, Travis and Emma in person. All dark-haired with dark eyes and generous mouths accustomed to smiling. And they were smiling now, which was a good sign. The Maxwells were accompanied by their spouses.
Jack Harris, Lucy’s husband, was an attorney. Emma Maxwell Norman’s husband, Zach, a former navy SEAL, sat next to his wife. The man looked like he could break her in two with his pinky.
Travis sat holding hands with his wife, AJ, a pretty blonde in a denim jacket who’d entered the room with a straw cowboy hat on her head. She was clearly very pregnant.
Though Rue was entertaining Clementine in another room, they’d asked Tripp Walker to stay. The man was just like family, Lucy Maxwell Harris, the oldest, had said. Pretty scary family, in her opinion. He wasn’t smiling and hadn’t since she’d met him, except when he was speaking to Clementine.
The man baffled her. He’d been nothing but a gentleman when he had rescued them. And when she’d struggled to climb into the cab of his truck, the cowboy had held her arm and easily helped her. His touch was surprisingly gentle for such a big and disapproving man.
Right now, the cowboy’s cool blue eyes were nearly ice as they pinned her. Hannah tugged her sweater close against the chill in the room and looked away.
A tiny niggle of excitement churned inside of her. Excitement even Tripp Walker’s less than warm welcome couldn’t dispel.
She’d started over many times in the last seven years, but this was different. For once, she wasn’t hiding or running away from something. No, for the first time in her life she was slipping from the shadows into the light and searching for her future.
And maybe she had found it.
This could very well be her family sitting around the table. Except they all sat on one side while she sat on the other.
She silently prayed for help and grasped for a scripture to cling to. Her grandmother may have been misguided in many ways, but when Hannah was growing up she’d made certain they both were in the pew every Sunday.
Casting all your care upon Him; for He careth for you.
Yes. That would work.
Lucy cleared her throat and smiled. “I have to admit we’re all shocked to find out we have a relative. Travis, Emma and I went into foster care after our parents died because we were told we had no family.” She pushed her short dark cap of hair back and folded her hands on the table.
“Are you related to our mom’s cousin? She’s the one who adopted us,” Emma, the youngest Maxwell, asked.
“I believe I’m related to your father. Jake Maxwell.”
Travis grinned and leaned forward in his chair. “You’re related to Dad? Really? How?”
Hannah hesitated, then met his gaze. “I think Jake Maxwell was my father.”
Travis’s grin faded away at the same instant that Lucy’s jaw sagged. She turned to Emma, whose eyes were round with shock.
The silence in the room was even louder than Hannah expected. She let her gaze slide to Tripp. Stormy blue eyes met hers before he looked away.
Hannah held her hands tightly in her lap and willed her heart to slow down. She tried to relax her clenched jaw. In the last ten minutes, she’d destroyed years of orthodontic alignment.
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