Caro Carson - A Texas Rescue Christmas

Trey looked at the sky with a rancher’s eye. The storm, as bad as it was, looked like it was just getting started. “You’re sure she didn’t leave for a hotel in town? Maybe hitch a ride with some other guest?”

“This is hers.” Emily held up a lady’s purse. Even Trey knew a woman wouldn’t leave without her purse. Emily handed him a Massachusetts driver’s license. “Here’s what she looks like.”

Her signature was precise and legible. Rebecca Cargill. A pretty woman. Brown hair, with thick, straight bangs. As Trey took a moment to let the image settle into his brain, something about the expression on her face resonated with him. There was strain beneath that smile, a brave smile for the camera. I know how you felt, darlin’. I was afraid I wouldn’t pass the damned exam, either.

* * *

Texas Rescue:Rescuing hearts … one Texan at a time!

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Despite a no-nonsense background as a West Point graduate and US Army officer, CARO CARSONhas always treasured the happily-ever-after of a good romance novel. After reading romances no matter where in the world the army sent her, Caro began a career in the pharmaceutical industry. Little did she know the years she spent discussing science with physicians would provide excellent story material for her new career as a romance author. Now Caro is delighted to be living her own happily-ever-after with her husband and two children in the great state of Florida, a location which has saved the coaster-loving theme-park fanatic a fortune on plane tickets.

For William Edward,

A brave and brilliant boy

Contents

Cover

Introduction “No one has seen her for hours?” Trey looked at the sky with a rancher’s eye. The storm, as bad as it was, looked like it was just getting started. “You’re sure she didn’t leave for a hotel in town? Maybe hitch a ride with some other guest?” “This is hers.” Emily held up a lady’s purse. Even Trey knew a woman wouldn’t leave without her purse. Emily handed him a Massachusetts driver’s license. “Here’s what she looks like.” Her signature was precise and legible. Rebecca Cargill. A pretty woman. Brown hair, with thick, straight bangs. As Trey took a moment to let the image settle into his brain, something about the expression on her face resonated with him. There was strain beneath that smile, a brave smile for the camera. I know how you felt, darlin’. I was afraid I wouldn’t pass the damned exam, either. * * * Texas Rescue: Rescuing hearts … one Texan at a time!

Title Page A Texas Rescue Christmas Caro Carson www.millsandboon.co.uk

About the Author Despite a no-nonsense background as a West Point graduate and US Army officer, CARO CARSON has always treasured the happily-ever-after of a good romance novel. After reading romances no matter where in the world the army sent her, Caro began a career in the pharmaceutical industry. Little did she know the years she spent discussing science with physicians would provide excellent story material for her new career as a romance author. Now Caro is delighted to be living her own happily-ever-after with her husband and two children in the great state of Florida, a location which has saved the coaster-loving theme-park fanatic a fortune on plane tickets.

Dedication For William Edward, A brave and brilliant boy

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

James Waterson III left his family’s ranch at the glorious age of eighteen, ready to exceed the already high expectations of his friends and family, teachers and coaches. James the third, better known as Trey among the ranch hands and football fans, the recruiters and reporters, was going to conquer college football as the star of Oklahoma Tech University. He’d so easily conquered high school football, the NFL was already aware of his name.

At the age of twenty, Trey was washed up.

What’s wrong with that boy? He blew his big chance.

What’s wrong with him? He was so bright when I had him in class.

What’s wrong with the Waterson kid? He must’ve gotten into drugs.

What a waste, what a shame, why, why, why?

His parents, of course, had left the family ranch in Texas to visit him in Oklahoma numerous times. They’d consulted with his coaches and met with his professors, and no one could understand why Trey Waterson, the promising freshman recruit, could no longer remember the play calls and passing routes now that he was a sophomore.

Well, Mr. Waterson, I’m not saying your son can’t handle stress, but we’ve seen kids freeze up when they get in a big stadium. We’re talking about a crowd of one hundred thousand.

No one could deny that Trey’s test grades were no longer easy As, but struggling Ds and failing Fs.

To be honest, Mrs. Waterson, he was supposed to come to my office for tutoring directly after class, but he never showed. As I told the athletic director, I can’t help a kid who refuses to be helped.

Trey’s parents had believed him. He wasn’t trying to skip class. He was not experimenting with drugs. They remembered the hit he’d taken in the last quarter of a home game, and worried that he was somehow suffering, months later.

We take good care of our players. Your son had a CT scan and passed a neurological exam that very week. Everything looks completely normal. No damage from that game, and no brain tumors or anything else that would explain the changes in his behavior.

That had been the most disheartening news of all. Trey was healthy, according to the doctors. An MRI was ordered, anyway; Trey was told it was “unremarkable.” He could balance on each foot. He could touch his nose with his index finger and stick out his tongue straight and name the current President of the United States.

When he finally found his professor’s office and correctly described how to calculate the area within the shape created by rotating a parabola around the z-axis, Trey believed the doctors, too. There was nothing wrong with him. He was just having a hard time, somehow. Not sleeping well, for some reason.

After their conversation, the professor gave him the exam, letting him make up the missed test just because Trey was the future of the Oklahoma Tech football program.

Trey failed the math test.

He understood the mathematical theory, but he couldn’t calculate three times six. Five plus twelve. He sat in the professor’s office and sweated clean through his shirt. He thought he was going to vomit from the fear, the sheer terror, of not being certain if he was counting on his fingers correctly. Seventeen times four? Not enough fingers, he knew that much.

We’re sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Waterson. I know your son passed the drug screen, but these boys get pretty clever about hiding substances in urine samples. Now, now, hold up. We’re not accusing him of taking drugs, but he has been cut from the football team. He has until May to bring his grade point average up to the school standard.

Trey came home for spring break, in time to help with the annual calf branding. As coordinated as ever, he threw lassoes and branded calves, day after day. He felt so damned normal, he wondered why he’d fallen apart. After spring break, he’d go back. He’d make up all the work he’d missed. He’d survive his nineteenth year. Then he picked up the branding iron, held it over the calf’s hide and forgot which way was up. He was on the James Hill Ranch. The brand was a straightforward three initials: JHR. The iron didn’t look right.