Roz Fox - More to Texas than Cowboys

“Jock retired. Homestead’s lucky to get his son. Wade’s more evenhanded than his pa.”

“Hmm. So, you think it was kids? I planned on going by the sheriff’s to file a complaint. Maybe that’s not necessary.”

“Won’t hurt,” he said, taking her completed form. “Wade likes to keep a tight rein on his town. What with all the new folks moving in thanks to the mayor’s scheme, there’s bound to be new kinds of trouble.”

“I guess townspeople aren’t happy with what Miranda’s done to resurrect Homestead.”

“Me, I’m happy as a clam at high tide.” The big man grinned like a boy. “Haven’t had so much business in five years, what with all you kids coming home to rebuild. I meant that the town council was real divided on our Miranda’s plan. You know how it is with Hill Country folks. Pa grumbles at the dinner table. His kid remembers that, so when he and his pals go hot-rodding at night, huntin’ up mischief, they maybe act out Pa’s grumblin’.”

Greer nodded absently. She’d formed her own suspicions about who was responsible for last night. And he wasn’t a hot-rodding teen. “I didn’t come just to apply for a gun permit, Myron. Do you sell mini blinds?” She laid her list on the counter. “These are the inside measurements for all my ranch house windows. I’ll need blinds later for the cottages, too, once I get them fixed up.”

Guthrie adjusted his glasses before scanning her figures. “You’re in luck, Greer. I unpacked a new order last week that includes blinds. I even got me one of those fancy cutters. I stock brown, white and ivory, but I can order blue or maroon if you want to wait. Come on, I’ll show you what I have.”

“Brown or ivory should do me.” Calling to Shelby, Greer fell in behind the waddling, short-legged store owner.

“There’s toys in aisle five if the little one wants to start making her Santa list.” Myron winked. “Diversifying is my wife, Sophie’s, idea. She likes to remind me every now and then that if she hadn’t suggested I branch out, we might’ve folded like so many of the other old-timers.”

Greer directed Shelby to an aisle already decked out with artificial Christmas trees. “I hope to be open by Thanksgiving, so I expect I’ll give the local economy a boost. Eventually I’ll need locks for the cottages, a door for the barn and materials to fix a falling down corral. The blinds and locks are all I’ll order today. Oh, and I need to find a company to fix the fence between my land and Gallagher’s pasture.”

“Smart idee, I’d say.” As Guthrie showed her the blinds and Greer made her selections, Myron gossiped. By the time he’d filled her Blazer with blinds and the hardware items she’d bought, Greer knew a lot more about the goings-on around Homestead.

“So, Shelby, you spent quite a while cruising the toy aisles. Did you start making your Santa list? Only a little over two months and it’ll be Christmas.”

“Mr. Guthrie’s got lots of good stuff. But I decided since you won’t get me a dog now, that’s all I’m going to ask Santa for this year.”

“Shelby, that’s no fair. I know Luke Sanderson told you where Santa’s gifts come from.”

The girl grinned cheekily. “So? Hey, did you decide if we get to eat lunch?”

“Okay. After I take care of some business with the sheriff. That’s provided you can stay quiet in his waiting room while I chat with Sheriff Montgomery.”

“I will, I promise. Is the sheriff somebody you know from when you used to live here?”

“Wade Montgomery is seven or eight years older than I am. As I recall, he left Homestead after high school and went to college in Houston. I think he took a job on the Houston police force. This is the first I knew he’d moved home. Myron said another guy I used to know still lives here. Ethan Ritter. You’ll be happy to hear he has a horse ranch not far from us. He runs a therapeutic riding school, and he married a woman who has a daughter about your age. They’ve adopted two kids, a boy and a girl who are nine. Father Kelley mentioned them yesterday, but I had no idea who he meant.”

“Mama, are all the guys you used to know married?”

Greer darted a sidelong glance at Shelby. “I don’t know. I suppose so. Why?”

“Nothin’. ’Cept I heard Luke’s mother tell his dad that maybe you coming home would be good. She said maybe you’d marry one of the guys you went to school with.”

Feeling her face heat, Greer concentrated on parking between a dusty white Ford with the sheriff’s insignia on the side and a light-colored pickup truck. Once she’d successfully jockeyed into the spot, Greer unbuckled her seat belt and faced her daughter. “Shel, I want to make this perfectly clear. I’m not on a husband hunt.”

The girl’s thin face fell, and she cast down her thick-lashed eyes.

“You seem unhappy about that.”

“Luke and Lindsay did cool things with their dad. I…hoped…” Shelby bit her lip and let her thought go unfinished.

“We do cool things together, Shel.” Now Greer found their exchange uncomfortable. She prided herself on being a very good mom. Had she fooled herself into believing Shelby had never missed having a dad?

The girl slipped out of her seat belt and opened the back door. “We do okay when you’re not working, Mama. I figured if I had a dad, even if he worked like Luke’s daddy, I’d have twice the chance that one of you wouldn’t be busy all the time.” Hopping down, she slammed the door.

Greer leaped out her side of the vehicle, making a mental note to devote more hours to Shelby, even though so much needed to be done to get the ranch ready for guests. Who was she kidding? As a single parent and a working mom, she knew that spare hours came at a premium. She sighed, unable to see how she could juggle her schedule.

The sheriff’s office was at the back of the courthouse. His dark wood walls were papered with Wanted posters. Greer assumed she’d be stuck answering a million questions once they left, as Shelby knelt on a bench, paying an inordinate amount of attention to the posters hanging at adult eye level. For a third-grader, Shelby read exceedingly well, and she retained everything. Greer hoped there weren’t a lot of really horrid criminals whose deeds would give her daughter nightmares.

Greer announced herself to a secretary. Barbara Jean Steck, it said on her name tag. “I’m new in town,” Greer told the woman. “A former resident, actually.” She darted a glance at Shelby and lowered her voice. “Uh, last night there was an incident at my ranch I’d like to report. To Wade if he’s available.”

“He’s in. Let me call and ask if he has time to see you, Ms. Bell.”

Wade flung open his office door a moment after his clerk buzzed him. “Greer, long time no see. Come in, come in. I don’t like hearing you’ve had an incident at your place. That would be the Dragging F, correct?”

Cringing, Greer’s eyes automatically cut to the girl still on her knees. “Will my daughter be all right by herself for a few minutes?” As Wade nodded Greer noticed that he hardly looked different from the brown-eyed, brown-haired, lanky guy he’d been in high school. There was an added maturity, of course. Or maybe the official khaki pants, white shirt, boots and heavy belt loaded with cop paraphernalia gave him that commanding aura.

Wade stepped around Greer and introduced himself to Shelby. “My wife’s sister, Brittany, is about your age. We’ll have to get you together one of these days. Brit will be ecstatic to have another girl in town. She thinks the school here is overrun with boys.”

Shelby, obviously impressed with Wade’s height and hardware, sat flat on the bench. She did little but nod with wide eyes.