Texas Redeemed (23 page)

Valerie’s eyes narrowed slightly but she kept her tone
light. “Jeez, you haven’t visited since you deployed to Afghanistan. How long
has it been now? Three years? Lucy was in elementary school when you left.”

Peyton followed a good distance behind. He saw Valerie
playfully jump up and grab her cousin in a headlock before she raced ahead and
taunted him to keep up.

He’d thought all the hard knocks that had sculpted her
into such a serious woman had eclipsed the playful, jubilant part of her that
he missed. But it still existed, apparently waiting for a reason to resurface.

He hadn’t been that reason, and even though it made no
sense, he felt on fire with envy.

Peyton remained in the background as they entered the
family room. The Culpeppers had gone, but the room
was still loud with Dinah and Cordelia laughing as
Coop argued with Jack about the fairness of a touchdown ruling on the field.

The commotion
amplified when Cordelia spotted Chase and hauled him
into a hug. “I’m mad at you,” she said, before releasing him to their mother.

“Chase.” Dinah studied her son, and it must’ve been
second nature for her to smooth his hair and straighten his shirt collar.
“You’ve got to answer to your mama. We’ll talk in private.”

Chase avoided the interrogation by shifting the focus of
conversation to Cordelia, who said she would gladly
beat him up for worrying them but had a baby on board. Then Dinah patted him on
the arm and said, “Dee and I’ll fix you a plate. I’ll be looking forward to
that talk.”

After Jack and Coop said their hellos and trudged off to
the kitchen for commercial-break drink refills, Valerie ushered Lucy forward
and said to her cousin, “Remember her?”

“Nope,” he said with a headshake, and Lucy was
momentarily crestfallen until he continued, “I remember an ankle-biter. A kid with a missing bottom tooth and a blister on her right middle
finger from drawing day in and day out.”

Lucy, suddenly a tad shy, held out her hand. “Blister’s
still there, but I have all my teeth.”

“How’re you doing, ankle-biter?” Chase shook her
proffered hand. “It’s time I figured out a new nickname for you, Lucy. You’re
not so short anymore. Guess we’re all different now. Hey,” he said, reaching
into his pocket for his tattered wallet. “Think you can hold on to this for a
while? I’m good at losing stuff, and this is important.”

Peyton watched him pluck a foreign coin from the wallet
and flip it in the air. Lucy caught it and held it up for her parents to see.
Part of the face of the coin was destroyed, as if it’d been blown off.

“A buddy in Afghanistan gave it to me,” Chase explained.
“He’d never been to America and said if I brought this coin home with me it’d
be like a part of him is traveling with me. The thing is,
he didn’t want me to lose it. And it’s a lucky thing I managed to keep it this
long. So, Lucy, think you can hang on to it?”

Lucy nodded solemnly, having also noticed how Chase
referred to his friend in past tense. “Promise.”

“Cool.”

Peyton would guess that giving Lucy the responsibility of
safekeeping something he undoubtedly treasured had made her his friend for
life. When Dinah called him into the kitchen to eat, the girl followed.

“He’s good with Luce,” Valerie told Peyton once they were
alone. “The last time he was on the ranch, he found a caterpillar and helped
her make a habitat for it. But he left for his next tour before the butterfly
broke out of the cocoon, and she wanted to keep it until he came home so they
could release it outside together. I convinced her to set it free.”

“G.I. Joe handling a caterpillar,” Peyton said, finding
it difficult to link the man she described to the hostile Chase that he’d
encountered in Bull’s-Eye.

“Not much different from you with newborn Bowie,” Valerie
said. “Soldier or not, Chase’s just that way, you know. Perceptive.
Easygoing. Funny. Sweet, even.”

More like
anxious,
tense
and
guarded,
from what Peyton could gauge. But it wasn’t his place to
say so, especially on the man’s first night back home with his family.

When Coop left and Lucy went to bed early to be rested
for Black Friday bargain-hunting in the city with Felicity Moss, Peyton took
that as his cue to get going, too. In the foyer, armed with a bag containing an
entire homemade pumpkin pie and an extra helping of stuffing, he saw Valerie
come forward.

“When did you meet Chase?” she asked, her eyebrows raised, daring him to lie.

He thought back to when he’d seen Chase far past drunk
and ready to hurt anyone who’d give him the chance. He couldn’t answer her
point-blank question with anything other than the truth. “The night Pisces had
her litter. I went to Bull’s-Eye, and he was there.”

“There’s something not right with him. Everyone can tell.
How bad-off was he when you saw him?”

“Bad.”

Valerie sighed. “I’m glad he’s here though. That he’s
home. And safe.” She went forward, took the bag from
him and set it aside, and then slipped her arms around his waist.

The contact stunned him, but he held her for several
moments, relishing the feel of her. “What’s this for?”

She rose up and pressed her soft lips to his jaw. “It’s
Thanksgiving, after all.”

V
ALERIE
MUTTERED A
swear word softly under her
breath as the string of clear-bulb holiday lights she was attaching to the
two-story arch on the front of the house slipped out of her grasp and swung
past to her left. Her attempt to catch it was feeble, and she had to climb
another step higher on the ladder to reach it.

Plucking a fastener from her utility belt, she heard an
upstairs window slide open. Lucy poked her head outside, her long
toffee-colored hair wound around large rollers. “Mom,
didn’t Jack and Will promise to help string the outside lights tomorrow?”

Valerie waited to respond, concentrating on securing the
fastener to the edge of the archway and thankful that the December afternoon
breeze was mild. “Yeah, but I figured it’d be best to get this done today.”

“Want me to help?”

The idea of her daughter scaling a seventeen-foot ladder
gave her a nasty chill. “No.”

“Then can you please stop for now? It’s almost dark and
we should start getting ready for Gramps’s party. Did you pick out a dress
yet?”

After finishing the morning chores and taking Brute out
on the trail, she’d stood in her walk-in closet debating the limited selection
of formalwear she’d collected over the years and had worn to a variety of
functions—hospital fundraisers, funerals, the wedding of one of Jack’s friends,
who’d politely invited her so that she wouldn’t feel
left out.

Not much to choose from, but several days ago she’d had
to call on Vet Boone to treat three sick cows, and the bill was a pinch in her
budget. So she wouldn’t be forking over the money for a new gown, especially
not for a few hours of socializing in an environment she was hesitant to be a
part of.

She wasn’t exactly comfortable with Nathaniel, even
though he never outright made her feel lower-class and inferior. More than once
she’d had run-ins with people from his world of wealth and privilege, and had
felt the icy burn of slight.

More important than that, she didn’t
want her daughter to experience it. So last weekend she and Lucy had
joined Dinah for a shopping trip at a boutique in town, and she’d bought the
girl a brand-new dress and shoes to match. She only hoped Lucy would have a
good time—not to make the splurge worthwhile, but because she knew that mixing
with Nathaniel’s world of fashion made her daughter, who sometimes spent hours
on end sketching, happy.

“There’s something in my closet, for sure,” she said,
feigning optimism about the prospects. So far the leading contender was a
smart-looking beige full-length sheath.

“I just looked in your closet, and those dresses are all
boring,” Lucy told her with an impatient sigh. “Cordelia
might have something. You’re about the same size, right? I’ll call her over
ASAP.”

“Don’t bother her,” Valerie warned, distracted by the
crooked angle of the light string. She’d have to retrace where the fastening
had gone wrong and correct it. “Get yourself ready to go.”

“We’ll be late anyway. And it won’t be fashionable.” Lucy
leaned farther out the window, squinting into the distance. “You’re gonna have to finish the lights later anyway, Mom. Coop’s
coming up the driveway … and he looks really mad.” With that heads-up, she
retreated inside and shut the window.

Valerie considered finishing the task to avoid whatever
complaint or criticism Coop had in store for her. Yet the possibility that one
of the animals was in trouble or that there was urgent ranch business to settle
had her abandoning the project and carefully descending the ladder.

She hadn’t even reached the bottom rung before Coop laid
into her.

“Sell that damn gelding. Get him off this ranch—today.”

Brute. Of
course.

Valerie reached solid ground and began unhooking her
utility belt. “And why should I do that, Coop?” She tried to look into the aged
man’s eyes, but they were shadowed by the low set of his cowboy hat. She headed
for her storage container of outdoor holiday decorations that sat in the grass
nearby, and he followed her.

“He’s dangerous.”

“He wasn’t dangerous this morning, out on the trail,
Coop.”

Outraged, he swept off his hat and slapped it brutally
against his thigh. In the fading sunlight, his already ruddy, weather-beaten
skin looked a harsh shade of red. “Valerie, that horse nearly
kicked me—right in the gut! I could’ve been killed.”

“Wait, wait. What were you doing at his stall anyway?”
Because of Brute’s temperament, Valerie had sent a memo to everyone on the ranch—and
personally warned Lucy—that only she and her horse trainer, Pete, were allowed
to handle the gelding.

“Checkin’ him out, seeing
whether he’s got potential or is just taking up a stall that another
worthwhile
horse could be using,” he
said defensively.

Again, Coop had deliberately ignored her instruction and
pissed on her leadership. It was happening more often. Even when she’d first
inherited the ranch and brought her young daughters to live in the battered and
beaten main house, and she’d been overwhelmed with raising them and trying to
save Battle Creek, Coop had been patient and even somewhat understanding.

Now that business was stable and she was confident making
her own decisions and implementing changes, the patient and understanding Coop
was in hiding. And though it was apparent he genuinely cared about the
ranch—and “Rhys’s kinfolk”—it was becoming harder to keep that in mind every
time he disregarded her management.

“Coop, you don’t have to follow up behind me,” she said,
mustering her own reserve of patience as she knelt to drop the remaining
fasteners into a container. “In fact, I’d prefer if you didn’t, because I … I
don’t want this conflict on my ranch. It interferes with business when my
workers don’t respect me.”

“I respect you, Val.”

Even then she didn’t sense his conviction. “You’re
badmouthing me to the guys. Don’t deny it,” she quickly added when he opened
his mouth immediately to protest. “I heard you just the other day, when Jack
and I came to the bunkhouse for poker. I heard you, Coop.
So did Jack. If I wanted to fire you for that, I would’ve done it then. But Coop, come on. You’re fighting me about the calving
season, about how many head of cattle to keep on, about a horse that you’ve got
absolutely no responsibility for.”     

“I’m not wrong about that horse.” His flinty stare let
her know that it didn’t matter that his decades-old job was on the line—he
believed he was right and he wasn’t going to back down.

“What’s wrong is that you’re undermining me every chance
you get and you’re using a high-strung horse that needs nurturing to do it.”
She stood, and with the old cowboy’s slightly stooped posture, they were
face-to-face. “Take a step back. If you can’t do that, then you need to leave
this ranch.”

“Battle Creek needs my know-how.”

Valerie emphatically nodded in agreement. “No question
about it, Coop. But I don’t need you coming at me like this. It has to stop. Now.”

A grunt answered her. Then he settled his hat harshly on
his head. “All right. You’ll have it your way no matter
what.”

“So you’re staying on?”

“Yeah.” The word was so gravelly
Valerie practically felt it scratch her skin. But she didn’t say anything more
and waited until he returned to his truck parked at the curb and peeled off
before she let out a breath and finished putting away her tools and
decorations.

Tomorrow she’d tackle the rest of the outdoor holiday
decorating. And it
would
be good to
have Jack’s and Will’s help, she realized with a frown
of distaste at the half-finished job.

Inside, she set the large container in the mudroom and
was bombarded by Dinah, Lucy and Bowie, who was curled against the safety of
Lucy’s shoulder.

“Want me to give that old coot a piece of my mind?” Dinah
said after one glimpse at Valerie’s unnerved expression.

“What’d he say to you, Mom?”

“He wants Brute gone.” Valerie skirted around them.

“You’re not getting rid of him, are you?” Lucy asked in a
soft voice, as if she was waiting for an answer before she could breathe again.
“He’ll take Tilly with him.”

“Coop? No.”

“Too bad,” Dinah mumbled, then smiled sweetly.

“Nor Brute.”

Lucy let out a little breathless laugh. “Good.” Moving on
to more pressing business, she stroked Bowie’s tiny furry body and said, “Mom,
you’re going to need to shower, like now. Delia said she’s coming over with a
sex-
ay
dress for you.” At Valerie’s
disapproving frown, she defended, “Well, that
is
what she said.”

Dinah ushered Lucy to her room to help her construct a
stylish up-do out of the mass of freshly rolled curls tumbling down her back;
and Valerie made a mad dash for the shower.

By the time she emerged from the bathroom in her robe and
wet hair, Cordelia had arrived and was carrying
several pairs of shoes out of Valerie’s closet.

“I’ll only need one pair of shoes,” she said, going
straight to her lingerie chest. Opening the top drawer, she couldn’t help but
cringe and wonder which thong Peyton had encountered during his laundry
adventure at the ranch. “Thanks for coming. And you look—”

“Jack called me the hottest pregnant woman on the planet.
If you can’t top that, don’t try,” her cousin cut in, adding a grin. Tonight
she’d pinned up her raven hair and wore a violet form-fitting long-sleeved gown
with a deeply plunging neckline. Her baby bump was now somewhat visible—if you
stared very hard and knew what you were looking for.

“You look twenty-five.”

“Oh, that’s a winner.”

“So …” Valerie eyed the garment bag draped across the bed
“… where’s this sex-
ay
dress you
promised?”

Cordelia actually looked
sheepish. “Sorry ’bout that. You’ll forgive me when you—” she made a
presentation of unzipping the garment bag and revealing the dress inside “—put
this on.”

Valerie examined the strapless empire-waisted
blue-black dress with its cascading layers that ended short in the front but
long in the back. A jeweled clasp rested at the front’s center. “It’s stunning.
Did you sneak into the Oscars or something with this on?”

“Unfortunately, no. But I did
wear it to an event far away from Night Sky, so no one should rib you about
wearing a used dress.”

“Oh, the shame,” Valerie said with sarcasm as she removed
the dress out of the garment bag, taken with it already. “Will I spend the
evening pulling the top up to avoid a wardrobe malfunction?”

“Doubt it. You’ve got more boob than you give yourself
credit for. Fix your hair and face, and throw on that dress then call me up to
help you decide on a pair of heels.”

Cordelia swept out of the room,
leaving behind the faint whiff of a dark, sultry perfume.

An hour later, Valerie’s hair was dry and carefully swept
to one side with a waterfall of loose waves over one shoulder, and she’d taken
extra care with her makeup, opting for smoky eyes and lightly bronzed cheeks.
She slipped into the dress, thankful that it was only slightly loose across the
hips but otherwise an incredible fit—and it matched the only wristlet she
owned.

She was stepping into one of her few pairs of designer
heels—black, strappy stilettos—when her cousin barged in munching on a
mini-muffin.

“There’ll be food at Nathaniel’s,” Valerie said.

“And I’ll be sure to eat my fill. Right now the baby
wants carbs.” Cordelia chewed and swept a glance from
Valerie’s hair to her shoes. “My lord. You look like
sex in high heels.”

Was that the look she wanted for a glitzy holiday party …
one where Peyton was guaranteed to be in attendance?

The uncertainty must’ve shown on her face like a glaring
danger warning, because her cousin abandoned her muffin and took her by the
elbows. “Put on some earrings and you’ll be perfect, Val. You may end up with a
sex buddy after all.”

“Cordelia!
That’s not what I’m after.”

“Oh, c’mon. Look at your bedroom
with these tame neutral colors and everything in order. You’ve been nice all
year. Try on naughty.” Cordelia winked, grabbed her
muffin and headed out of the room. “Santa’ll
understand.”

Valerie grabbed her wristlet and a modest pair of onyx
teardrop earrings—pausing to straighten the stack of books sitting on top of
her leather keepsake trunk—and followed her cousin downstairs.

T
HEY’RE
NOT COMING
.
Peyton steeled
himself for that scenario as he retrieved his father’s pocket watch from his
tuxedo jacket and noted the time. Exactly one minute since the last time he’d
checked.

They were late—the whole lot of them. He’d at least
expected Dinah to show up, having gotten it in his head that they had some sort
of alliance. Since the day he’d met her, she had been upfront and kind-hearted,
stern yet forgiving. And she’d tried to all but throw Valerie and him together
on Thanksgiving at the ranch.