Linda Warren - Once a Cowboy

He had to make sure that never happened.

In the morning he drove into Dallas to find Alex Donovan. If a simple test would keep Mrs. Braxton away from his mother, then he’d do it. He didn’t want someone continually hounding his mother or him.

He found the office without a problem. It was a small building that housed several businesses. Donovan Investigations was on the bottom floor and the door was open. Workmen were going in and out. He was about to leave when he saw her talking to one of the guys.

He watched her for a moment. She talked with her hands and her face was animated. He felt a hitch in his throat. From the first moment he set eyes on her, he knew she was different. His instincts were right on target. He just wished his heart didn’t do a dog paddle when he looked at her.

Surprise filtered across her face when she noticed him.

“Mr. Hayes.” She walked to him, her hips moving with an easy tantalizing rhythm.

“I’ve decided to take the test.” He came right to the point, ignoring that sparkle in her eyes.

“Oh. Sure. I’ll set it up and I’ll get a card with the address.” She hurried into an office and came back with a business card in her hand.

“Thank you for doing this,” she said, handing it to him. “Mrs. Braxton will be very grateful.”

“I’m not doing this for Mrs. Braxton.” He wanted to make that very clear. “I figured if she found me she could easily find my mother, who is not in the best of health. I will not have her harassed by an insane woman who thinks I’m her long lost son.”

“Mrs. Braxton might be desperate, but she wouldn’t do that.”

“Yeah. Like you wouldn’t enter my home under false pretences and steal to get my DNA. I want to stop this now before my mother gets involved.”

“The reason I did that was so you wouldn’t have to know. I am sorry.”

Those brown eyes begged him to understand, but he turned away. “There’s no need to contact me after this. Just give Mrs. Braxton the results and we’re done.”

“Mr. Hayes…”

He swung back to her. “That’s it, Ms. Donovan. I don’t want to see you again.”

Brodie had lunch with Cleo and his mother. Although he tried to push the DNA test from his mind, it kept nagging at him. He wondered why Mrs. Braxton thought he was her son. Maybe she wasn’t stable, and looked for her son in every black-haired, blue-eyed man she saw.

Claudia went to lie down for a nap. Brodie helped Cleo take the dishes to the kitchen.

“Great chicken-fried steak, Cleo.”

“You’re easy to please. Claudie’s so picky.”

Brodie leaned against the cabinet as Cleo methodically stacked the plates side by side in the dishwasher and slipped the silverware into the slots. “Mother and I have been talking about when I was kid,” he said matter-of-factly. “You were with my mother when I born, right?” He hadn’t anticipated asking his aunt this question. The words just slipped out of their own volition.

She glanced up for a brief second. “Sure was. I was separated from husband number two and Claudie called wanting to stay with me while she had her baby. Tom was on some sort of special assignment in Germany and couldn’t leave, but he wanted you born in the States.”

Brodie folded his arms across his chest as more questions filled his mind. “Were you in the room with her?”

Cleo put soap in the dispenser and closed the door. “Yes. You know how your mother’s afraid of being alone. I stood right by her side, holding her hand as you came into the world. Tom was on the phone and I was talking to him while trying to soothe Claudie. Tom was so happy when I told him it was a boy.”

The knot in his gut eased. “Mother didn’t stay in Dallas long after that, did she?”

“Good heavens, no. She couldn’t wait for Tom to see you. You had a thatch of black hair and beautiful blue eyes just like your father.” Cleo wiped her hands on a dishtowel. “You must have been a week old when Claudie flew to Germany. When I talked to her later, she said Tom was enthralled with you.”

Brodie made a face. “But not so much as I grew older.”

“Sweetie, he was disappointed you were so hell-bent on the rodeo, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t proud.”

“Sometimes I’m not so sure about that.”

Cleo clicked her tongue. “Come with me. I want to show you something.” He followed her into the den. She opened a cabinet and pulled out a photo album. “Take a look at this.”

He sat on the sofa and flipped through the album in awe. There were newspaper clippings of his rodeo triumphs through the years. His parents had kept track of his life—his successes. For a moment he was speechless.

“Tom was never good at showing his feelings, but you were his son and he was proud of you.”

He touched a clipping from the national finals in Vegas. “He’d told me that in Vegas, but I thought they were just words he felt he had to say.”

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