Bethany Campbell - A Little Town In Texas

Yet she knew the sweep of these hills with a primal, bone-deep knowledge. It was in her blood to know it—whether she wanted to or not.

The land had dramatic beauty. There were hills, cliffs and low mountains. Great expanses of sparse ground stretched between them. In the open spaces, only the sturdiest vegetation grew. The twisted mesquite trees crouched low to the ground, and the scrub pines were dwarfish.

Along the creeks and river banks, though, were lush green groves. Over this mixture of starkness and fertility arched the great Texas sky. It was gray today, threatening rain. In the distance, lightning glimmered like a ghost.

In her heart, she reluctantly admitted the land’s grandeur. But her head asked: What’s it good for? Cattle and little else. Raising cattle was a back-breaking struggle, and ranching often fell on ruinous times.

The memory of those hard times killed any nostalgia that might stir her. This land was beautiful, yes. But it was also cruel. She was here only because a story was here, and she happened to know the territory.

Yet when she reached the stone pillars that marked the entrance to the Double C, she paused a moment, letting the car idle.

As a child, this ranch had filled her with awe. In spite of herself, she felt a shiver of the old wonder. To her, J. T. McKinney had been rich. Now she realized he’d never amassed the wealth people called “Texas Big Rich.”

By Lone Star standards, his ranch, thirty-five thousand acres, was respectable. It was hardly dazzling. Kitt thought, It’s not a magic kingdom, it’s only land.

The Double C would have little importance if it wasn’t so close to Austin—and Brian Fabian wasn’t so greedy for it. She stepped on the gas and headed down the lane toward Nora’s house.

Nora lived at the ranch in the foreman’s house with her second husband. Ken was a fine and reliable man—unlike Nora’s first husband, Gordon Jones. Kitt had despised Gordon.

She bit her lip in remembrance. Kitt had been considered a tough child, one who could hold her own in an argument, a wrestling match, or an all-out fight. She cried no more than did the most roughneck boys; she would not allow herself.

Yet when Nora had been forced to marry Gordon, Kitt had bawled like a baby. In secret, of course. In her bed and under her covers. She’d thought Nora’s life was ruined. It almost had been.

Kitt passed the ranch house, which she’d known well. Her father had been a wrangler on the Double C, and the McKinneys used to give Christmas parties for the ranch hands and their families.

The house seemed just as impressive as ever. Lights blazed from every window, and the drive was full of cars, many of them expensive. But it was not the sprawling house that made Kitt’s heartbeat speed.

Beyond the McKinneys’ house, she saw another, more old-fashioned home standing on a rise. It was a tall, angular and white, a Victorian clapboard that more than a century ago had been the original ranch house.

A swing hung in the porch’s shade, moving gently in the October breeze. Pots of mums marched up one side of the stairs and down the other, overflowing with fat-faced blossoms of bronze and jaunty yellow. On one side was a trellis with an ancient rose bush, still in pink bloom.

It was a lovely, old-fashioned house. It was Nora’s house.

For the first time, feeling seized Kitt so hard she couldn’t fight it off. She took a deep breath and pulled onto the house’s graveled drive. She took an even deeper breath, then got out of the car. As she did, the front door of the house burst open.

Nora came half-running, half-skipping down the steps, her shiny brown hair bouncing against her shoulders. In her jeans and yellow-checked shirt, she still looked as young as a girl.

She raced toward Kitt and caught her in such an embrace that it nearly knocked Kitt’s breath away. Nora was laughing and crying and talking all at once. “Kitt-Katt—welcome back! How was your trip? I was afraid you’d be stuck all night in Dallas. You haven’t gained an ounce, not a single ounce—I’m going to have to fatten you up. Did you remember the way to the Double C? Does Crystal Creek look different?”

To Kitt’s astonishment, hot tears pricked her eyes. And when she tried to speak, she couldn’t. Her throat was too choked.

What’s wrong with me? she thought, bewildered by the force of her emotions. All she could do was hug Nora back and hold her tight.

Vaguely, Kitt realized someone else had come out onto the porch. Nora drew back, laughing at herself for crying. Kitt fought down her own tears and found her voice.

“Oh, Nora,” she said gruffly, “Stop the water works. This is like walking into a lawn sprinkler.”

Nora shook her head wryly and wiped her eyes with the back of her wrist. “If you’d come back more often, maybe the flood wouldn’t build up. I swear, I’m weak-kneed.”

“So, Nora, your wandering girl’s come home,” said the man on the porch. Slowly he came down the steps.

Kitt had collected herself enough by now to look at him with her usual cool detachment. Ken Slattery was long and lean—well over six feet tall and all sinewy muscle. He was older than Nora by almost seventeen years, but an attractive man. His pale blue eyes looked sharp enough to count the tail feathers on high-flying hawk.

Kitt recalled him from childhood, although she hadn’t known him well. The years had not much changed him. Oh, weather had lined his face more deeply, and his brownish hair was going gray at the sideburns, but the strongly boned face was the same. The biggest change was that he walked with a noticeable limp.

“Little Kitt,” he said, “we’d started thinkin’ we needed to drive to Dallas and fetch you home ourselves.”

He took her hand in welcome. His own was hard and callused, truly a cowboy’s hand. She realized that he wouldn’t embrace her or kiss her cheek. He had an air of reserve that bordered on shyness.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I missed my first flight, then they kept delaying the next one.”

Nora took Kitt’s arm and led her toward the house. “Come on in, stranger. I didn’t make anything fancy for supper because I wasn’t sure when you’d get here. You didn’t even stop at the hotel?”

“Nope,” Kitt said. “I made reservations ahead of time.” She glanced down the slope at the McKinneys’ house. “What’s happening? A party?”

Nora shook her head. “Not really. Cal and his family are home. So it’s a gathering of the clan. You remember Tyler and Lynn and Cal?”

Kitt stiffened. She remembered all of them, but most especially Cal. She hoped to God that he’d forgotten her.

“They’re all married now,” Nora said as they climbed the stairs. “And they’re entertaining somebody you’ll want to meet.”

Kitt looked at her questioningly. Nora gave her a knowing look. “Nick Belyle. The first lawyer that Brian Fabian sent down here. The one you want to meet. Now Fabian’s sending another lawyer—Nick’s brother.”

“He’s already here,” Ken said from behind them.

The two women stopped and looked at him in surprise. “What?” Nora asked. “Since when?” Kitt’s pulses inexplicably quickened.

Ken nodded. “He’s at the hotel. Just got in about half an hour ago.”

“How do you know?” Nora asked, looking puzzled.

“Phone rang just when Kitt drove up,” Ken said laconically. “It was Cal. He said that Nick’s brother just checked into the hotel.”

“Well, why didn’t you tell me?” Nora demanded.

“By that time, you were out the door. A-weepin’ on your niece,” Ken said.

Nora gave him a mock-angry look and pretended to jab him in the ribs with her elbow. He gave her a one-sided smile. Nora squeezed Kitt’s arm as Ken opened the door for them. “That’s coincidence, eh? You and he getting here the same day? Looks like the action’s about to begin.”