Kelsey Roberts - The Best Man in Texas

Sara read the bright white nameplate pinned to the woman’s tight blouse. “Thank you...Stella. But I really do need to be on my way.”

Stella’s dark eyes were probing as she hesitated, coffeepot in hand. Then, with an accepting shrug, she said, “Suit yourself. Go out the door, take a left and follow Main Street to the stop sign. Main runs right into FM 880. Harvester is on the right a few miles down. Just look for a lattice rose trellis. Can’t miss it.”

“Thanks,” Sara muttered.

She left the Blue Moon Café and followed the simple directions. Simple, yes, easy, no. Everything in Texas was big, she determined as she continued to walk. Her small overnight bag felt as if it were filled with bricks and her feet weren’t too thrilled as she trudged down the dark road.

As soon as she passed the stop sign, she felt she had crossed some unseen border. There was a freshness in the crisp, cool night air. She could hear birds or some kind of critters scuttling in the underbrush as she walked through the virgin, ankle-high grass along the edge of the road. Occasionally a twig snapped beneath her foot or she would stumble on a rock. Her ribs ached and sleep deprivation was catching up with her. These were the longest miles she had ever walked. Violet would be a welcome sight.

Sara spotted the rose trellis up ahead. It had a strangely neglected look about it, even in the darkness. The roses were slowly being strangled by the hearty climbing weed overtaking the trellis.

But then, Violet was older, Sara told herself as she walked up a crushed-stone drive. Perhaps she wasn’t able to maintain the property any longer. Sara was already planning on weeding the rose bed and doing a little pruning when she reflexively ducked to the side and crouched down in the tall grass.

A car was coming.

Stifling the urge to cry out when her ribs protested, she clutched her bag close to her and listened. She saw the dual beams of headlights crawling along the main road. They were coming from the direction of town. Sara huddled lower in the grass, praying there were no snakes lurking nearby.

It seemed to take an eternity for the car to drive by the entrance to Violet’s ranch.

Sara needed a good few minutes before she had the courage to come out of hiding. “Get a grip!” she admonished herself. “It was probably the couple from the diner going home.” Unable to help herself, Sara started to create a scenario for the cute couple. What would it be like to have a real relationship with a man who looked like that!

She continued her musings as she headed toward the house. And then it happened.

With no time to run, she turned, dropping her bag to shield her eyes from the bright beams of the headlights that appeared out of nowhere before her. Her heart skipped several beats, making her chest feel as if it would explode. Fear replaced the blood flowing in her veins. This was her worst nightmare come true. She was in the middle of nowhere. Despite all her careful planning, she had provided her ex-husband with the perfect venue to kill her.

A spotlight clicked on from the driver’s side of the car. Sara could feel heat from the light as the car inched closer. Something didn’t seem right. Where had Hank Allen gotten a spotlight?

She was virtually blinded by the lights. An odd sense of calm washed over her. She ran the situation through her mind, remembering everything she had been taught in her self-defense course. Cooperation, she repeated like a mantra. Don’t antagonize him and don’t get into the car!

“Step up to the car, please, ma’am.”

Sara blinked at the unfamiliar male voice. She remained frozen in place.

“Texas State Police, ma’am. Step up to the front of the vehicle and place your palms on the hood.”

The disembodied voice was bellowing from a speaker. Sara was trying to grasp this sudden change in her situation when she heard a muffled curse as the car door opened.

“Lady,” an irritated young officer groused, “would you come on over here, please?”

“What?”

“Geez!” the young man groaned as he moved toward her. “What happened to you?”

“What?” Sara repeated.

He emerged from the spotlight, his gun belt jingling with each step he took. The faint smell of aftershave arrived a split second before the young officer. Tipping the brim of his uniform hat back slightly, he stared down at her face with a frown.

“You need medical attention, ma’am.”

Coming out of her fog, Sara gently shook her head. “No, I’m fine.”

“You aren’t fine,” he argued. “Who did this to you and what are you doing out here in the middle of the night?”

“Visiting a friend,” Sara explained.

His brows crunched together. “I don’t think so,” he countered. “If you tell me the truth, I can help you.”

Sara didn’t want to tell him how many times she had heard that before. There was the marriage counselor who was going to help her. Then the doctor who was going to help her. And the divorce attorney. And the support group. And the college dean. And the judge who issued the restraining order.

“Thank you, but I’m fine,” she managed to reply as politely as possible.

“You aren’t fine,” he argued.

“My friend owns this place,” Sara explained.

He snorted. “Is that right?”

“Yes. I’m surprised she hasn’t come outside with all these lights shining.” Why hasn’t she? Sara wondered to herself.

“Is this friend Miss Violet?” the officer queried.

Sara nodded.

“She isn’t here.”

Sara felt her heart plummet. “Not here?”

“You say she’s a friend?”

Sara nodded. “Yes, we met a few years ago.”

“You couldn’t have been too close,” the officer said. “Miss Violet died a while back. Which means you are trespassing.”

CHAPTER TWO

“IT WOULD BE a lot easier if you would just tell me your name,” the trooper said for the fifth time during their ride.

“I’ve agreed to go to the Harrisons’ shelter,” Sara argued. “Believe me, it’s better if no one knows my name.”

“What about your kin?” he asked. “Isn’t there someone you’d like me to call? Let them know you’re okay?”

“I don’t have anyone, but thank you.”

“What kind of man did this to you?”

“The worst kind.”

* * *

THE HARRISONS’ shelter was a converted bunkhouse on an immaculate ranch just outside the town of Pinto. It was pitch-dark when Kathy Harrison greeted them at the locked gate in her bathrobe.

She offered Sara a warm smile, then placed her arm around her shoulders and steered her to the main house. Kathy dismissed the trooper, then insisted that Sara have something to eat.

“You want to tell me your name?” Kathy asked as she piled lettuce on a sandwich.

“Jane Doe?” Sara suggested. She clutched the steaming coffee in both hands.

Kathy chuckled and joined Sara at the spacious oak clawfoot table that dominated the cozy kitchen. “You don’t look like a Jane.”

Sara simply smiled. Her smile slipped a bit when an imposing man with white hair entered the kitchen.

“This is my husband, David,” Kathy explained.

Sara’s greeting was a tentative meeting of the eyes.

“I smelled sandwiches,” David commented easily. Unlike his wife, he made no move to make physical contact. In fact, he seemed careful to avoid invading her space.

“I’m not really hungry,” Sara insisted.

“You should eat,” Kathy admonished.

“You should do what you want,” David countered as he accepted the plate Sara had pushed toward the center of the table. “Kathy can be something of a mother hen.”

“The girl looks half-starved,” Kathy protested.

David took a hearty bite of the sandwich and ate with appreciation. On a routine obviously established over many years, Kathy provided her husband with a glass of milk and a familiar pat on the shoulder.