Linda Warren - One Night in Texas

The Polish-Catholic Wiznowskis were known for being a big family. Angie had four sisters and two brothers. Her brother Dale and her sister Dorothy had moved away right after high school. She was the youngest and often touted as the favorite, which was similar to being the little kid on the playground always picked on by the bullies.

Wyatt Carson, the sheriff, pulled up to the side of the house. His wife, Peyton, who was Angie’s best friend, was with him. Peyton had gone home from the party so John Wyatt, otherwise known as J.W., their one-and-a-half-year-old son, could take a nap.

Wyatt came up the steps with his son in his arms. J.W. wiggled to get down and Wyatt let him. The baby scooted backward down the steps and tottered to his sister, Jody. He fell onto the Slip ’N Slide, laughing and getting soaked.

“Wyatt!” Peyton complained.

“He’s a little boy. He wants to play.”

Peyton wrapped her arm around her husband’s waist. “You’re changing him. I’ve done my quota for the day.”

Wyatt kissed his wife. “The party over?” he asked Angie.

“Yes. Just waiting for two more parents.”

Peyton was a beautiful blonde who was not the typical person you would find in Horseshoe. She had been raised in Austin in a wealthy family of social standing. She had made the mistake of speeding through Horseshoe one day, and Wyatt had arrested her because she’d had the nerve to try to bribe him. Who knew the sheriff and the socialite would fall in love? Peyton was now a small-town wife and mother. And happy. She and Angie had become fast friends through their daughters, and Angie treasured their friendship.

Two cars drove up to the curb. “The last of the birthday guests,” Angie said. “It’s been a long day.”

The girls’ squeals and giggles rose with excitement, and Angie glanced to where they were playing. They had the ball about twelve feet in the air, holding it there with the force of the water from the hose.

“Higher!” they shouted. Suddenly it bounced to the ground and toward the street. Erin ran after it.

“Erin, no!” Angie yelled.

Erin didn’t hear her. Her concentration was on getting the ball back. Almost in slow motion Angie saw the truck coming around the corner. “Erin!” she screamed, but her daughter kept running in between cars to the street.

“No!” Angie sprinted down the steps and then froze in horror as she saw the truck slam into Erin, who flew up in the air and landed in a heap on the paved street.

In a matter of seconds Angie was at her child. Erin lay so still and pale. One of her legs was twisted in an unnatural way. A spot on her thigh was bruised and bleeding. Blood oozed into a dark red puddle. The sight sent fear burning through her.

Screams, shouts and sobs echoed through the perfect day and turned it into a nightmare. Someone kept screaming—a chilling sound. Angie wished they would stop. Her ears hurt from the loud noise, and then she realized it was her.

Wyatt knelt by her and put an arm around her. “Calm down.”

Calm down. How did she calm down? Her child was lying like a limp doll in the street. Angie laid her face against Erin’s warm one. Angie smelled bubble gum, and a sob caught in her throat. Her daughter loved gum.

Angie stroked Erin’s wet hair and saw the bruise on her head and more blood. “Oh, my God!” She slipped a hand beneath Erin’s head.

“Don’t move her,” Wyatt said. “An ambulance is on the way.”

“Is...is she breathing?” They were the only words she could manage.

Wyatt laid his fingers against Erin’s neck. “Yes.”

Angie kept her face against her baby’s. “Mama’s here.”

Through the bits and pieces of her control she heard a bird chirping. An inane thing when her child’s blood was seeping onto the pavement. How could this happen? How could this day go from joy to horror?

“Angie, she came out of nowhere. I’m sorry.”

She raised her eyes to the face of the man who had hit her child. Her heart jolted into a spasmodic rhythm and then just flatlined, leaving her struggling to breathe. Fate had stepped in with a fistful of vengeance. She stared into the deep blue eyes of Hardison Hollister.

Erin’s father.

* * *

HARDY’S CHEST EXPANDED with raw terror. “I’m sorry, Angie. I didn’t see her.” His hands shook and his stomach roiled. He’d just hit an innocent child, and there was no way to make that better.

Angie glared at him with angry, unwavering eyes.

“It was an accident,” Wyatt said. But it didn’t change the sick feeling in his stomach as he stared at the little girl in the pink bathing suit with her leg twisted beneath her.

What was her name? He couldn’t bring it up. Horseshoe was a small town, and everyone knew everyone. He and Angie had been more than friends once, but now they were mere acquaintances. They were civil to each other and often met by accident at Wyatt and Peyton’s house. But he always kept his distance. Over the past two years, he’d been successful at that. How had he just hurt the one person she loved most in the world?

The blare of the siren whipped through the trees and roared to a stop not far from where they were kneeling on the pavement. Two paramedics jumped out with a stretcher. One began to ask questions. One was on the phone to the hospital, explaining the situation and checking the child’s injuries. They quickly put a collar on the little girl and loaded her onto the stretcher and into the ambulance. A tearful Angie followed. Hardy’s heart squeezed at the sight.

He glanced toward the house. Peyton held her son. Jody and two other girls were grouped around her, crying. Two women stood beside them. Someone needed to go with Angie. She didn’t need to be alone. But everyone seemed frozen in shock.

He did the only thing he could. He climbed into the ambulance.

Angie eyes opened wide. “What are you doing?”

He sat on the side bench as the paramedics worked with the little girl to stop the bleeding. “Someone needs to go with you and since I caused all this, the logical person is me.”

“There’s no need,” she said in a cool voice.

But there was no arguing. The ambulance zoomed toward Temple and the nearest hospital.

“How is she?” Hardy asked, not able to take his eyes off the child. She was so tiny. His chest grew even tighter as he saw blood soaking the stretcher.

“We’ve stopped the bleeding and started an IV,” one paramedic answered. “Looks as if she’s fractured her femur, but the doctors will give a better assessment once we reach the E.R.”

Hardy stared at Angie and the years seem to roll back to a time they both wanted to forget. A time he had worked very hard to forget.

His sister, Rachel, and Angie were friends in high school. Their mother had been killed in a drive-by shooting while walking to her car at an Austin mall. She’d gotten caught in a fight between two gang members and was the only one to die. Her sudden death had hit the family hard. Rachel had been seventeen and crushed, as they all had been, but she couldn’t seem to cope. Not until Angie had become a steadying force in her life.

Angie was sweet, kind, warm and giving. With her sunny disposition, she seemed to bring joy into a room. She had a sweet innocence about her that screamed “untouchable.” Besides, she was his sister’s age and too young for him.

Rachel had seemed to need Angie, and Angie had always been at the house. If she wasn’t, Rachel was on the phone begging her to come. Angie had worked in the family bakery in Horseshoe, but she spent as much time with Rachel as she could.

Busy finishing up law school at the University of Texas, Hardy had rarely come home on weekends. But after his mother’s death he’d come home often. Sometimes he had to wonder, though, if it was for his family or to see Angie. There was just something about her that made other people feel better—made him feel better.