Be My Texas Valentine (21 page)

That was why, after Christmas, she was taken by surprise when she received a letter from her uncle stating how much she was missed and wanting her to return home. He even promised her a job at the bank, which so far had not come up in conversation. A ticket to Farley Springs had been enclosed.

“Laurel,” Ruby almost shouted. “Hello, Laurel ... I think we lost you.”

“No, I just got lost in the beauty of the countryside. I’d forgotten how blue the Texas sky is.” She changed the subject back to Hunter as quickly as possible. “I understand how Hunter did well with the ranch, but how did he acquire all of the other businesses? Two saloons, the millinery shop, the mercantile, and I bet there are others that don’t have the Campbell name on them.”

“It shouldn’t take a girl with some big-fandangled college degree to figure that one out,” Ruby quipped. “He won them gambling.”

Pearl, who hadn’t said a lot so far, chimed in, “But it isn’t like you think. He did win most of them in high-stakes games of chance, but then handed over most of them to either one of the Campbells or he turned them back to the poor, losing poker player with the understanding that he would keep a small interest in the business.”

“I see.” Laurel smiled. “Things haven’t changed very much since I left town after all.”

All three ladies seemed to lapse into their own thoughts.

With the abundance of moisture over the winter and the early spring, as Laurel was told by the sisters, the prairie was carpeted with red-orange Indian paintbrush and spotted with waist-high yucca plants, promising the most beautiful springtime yet.

In the distance, the main house of the Campbell Ranch came into sight, a huge two-story plantation-style house with a wraparound veranda. So different from the long, low prairie-style homestead where Hunter’s parents had raised him and his sister.

When the Wilson buggy pulled up in front of the main house, a lanky, toothless ranch hand met them and helped them down from their carriage, then untied Laurel’s horse. “Mrs. Campbell is waitin’ for you all in the parlor.” He turned to Laurel and said, “Good to see you again, Miss Womack. I’ll see to your bay. He sure has a good-lookin’ black mane and tail.”

“I think so, too. His name is Buckey.”

Laurel followed Ruby and Pearl up the stairs.

When she reached the front porch, she stopped. Taking a lace hankie from her pocket, she dabbed away some of the perspiration from her forehead. She didn’t want to look all hot and sticky for Mrs. Campbell.

For early spring, it was certainly a warm day.

A rich, deep-timbered voice she’d know anywhere called from somewhere off to the right of the door.

Laurel whirled in its direction.

Hunter leaned against the porch railing and shot her his familiar, charismatic smile that would set any woman’s heart to racing.

Dressed in a black Stetson that had seen a lot of seasons, a chambray shirt, and tight-fittin’ work pants, with a gun belt holstering a single Colt hanging over slim hips, he looked nothing of the suave, debonair businessman she’d seen earlier in the day.

Tipping his hat, he said, “Nice to see you again, Miss Laurel. Welcome to the Triple C ... but only if you don’t tell me to go to hell for saying so.”

Chapter 4

Laurel and Hunter stood on the porch only inches apart, but it could have been miles between them from the way they reacted to each other. She deliberately set her chin in defiance. He stood with his arms folded across his chest.

A blue jay hovered low over the ground and made his presence known with his distinct, harsh call, which seemed to mimic the screams of a hawk.

“I apologize,” Laurel and Hunter said in unison.

“Ladies first.” He successfully disarmed her with his open, friendly smile.

“I shouldn’t have said what I did in town. I was, uh ...” She wasn’t sure exactly how to explain away her frustrations without admitting that what happened was her fault. She took a deep breath to scrounge up enough courage to offer an acceptable explanation. “I stopped by to see your mother. But when I realized a meeting was taking place, I was hesitant to come in. I simply should have left, so I owe you an apology.” She swallowed hard, finding it more difficult than it should be to say, “I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted. I should have been more cordial a minute ago myself.”

Laurel met his smile, and the hand that was offered. “Friends?”

“Friends.” He tipped his hat. “Have a great day, Laurel Dean.”

Slipping back into the shadows of the porch, she watched Hunter swagger his way toward the cowboy who was untying her horse from the buggy.

“I’m on my way to the barn, Slim,” Hunter said as he came up even with the lanky ranch hand. “I’ll see to Miss Womack’s gelding.”

“I figured you’d be at the Coyote Bluff this afternoon.” Slim handed over the reins.

“Nope. Got troubles up near the river, and I need to go out there and see to them. Part of the fence is down and there’s a heifer having problems birthing. Don’t have much time before dark, so I’m headin’ that way right now.”

“You got good hands out there that are capable of handling it,” said Slim.

“Yep, but can’t take a chance on losing the calf and certainly not the heifer. Every head is money in the bank.”

The pair, leading Buckey, sauntered in the direction of the corral and out of earshot.

The front screen door opened, startling Laurel.

Ruby stepped out. “What’s keeping you?” She raised an eyebrow and nodded in the direction of Hunter. “Oh, I see what, or I should say who, caught your attention. I didn’t think Hunter would be here, but it makes it convenient for you, just in case you wanna eavesdrop on him some more.” Amused at her own humor, Ruby smiled with an air of pleasure.

Not finding anything funny about her friend’s comment, Laurel straightened her shoulders and took a couple of steps toward the entryway. When she was even with Ruby, Laurel leaned over and whispered, “For your information, I couldn’t care less about that man. I was wiping perspiration from my forehead.”

“You mean sweat?” Ruby corrected.

Laurel shot her a benign smile as if dealing with an impolite child, then walked past her.

Heavy oak French doors led into the well-furnished parlor. Ceiling-to-floor bookcases filled with leather-bound volumes covered one wall. The rest of the room was papered in shades of blue and white, reminding Laurel of the bluebonnet fields of the Hill Country.

“There you are, Laurel Dean.” Mrs. Campbell appeared, carrying a silver tray with a porcelain tea set and a plate of tiny fried pies.

After setting the refreshments on the low table in front of the settee, she gathered Laurel into her arms and they exchanged hugs. Apparently not satisfied, the older woman set Laurel out at arm’s length and looked her up and down, stopping at her gawd-awful boots. Mrs. Campbell raised an eyebrow. As she released Laurel, her smile widened in approval. “You look well, dear.”

“As do you, Mrs. Campbell.” Laurel reached out and took the hand of the youthful-looking woman who was tastefully dressed and nearly as tall as her son.

Laurel offered condolences at the loss of Mr. Campbell, then said, “I’ve really missed you.”

The only thing that had changed since Laurel had last seen the older woman was her hair, which looked like a beautiful snowdrift.

“We’ve all grown up, Laurel Dean, so call me Melba Ruth.” A flash of humor crossed her face. “Makes me feel younger. Ladies, we don’t stand on formalities in this house, so please make yourself at home.” She sat on one end of the settee and patted the empty space next to her. “Laurel Dean, have a seat.”

Melba Ruth served tea to first Ruby then Pearl, who settled in chairs on each side of a small parlor table covered with a finely crocheted doily.

To Laurel’s plate she added an extra fried pie. “I made these when I knew you were coming out.”

“Apple?” Laurel smiled. “I remember making them with you when I lived here before. You always said the little ones taste better than the bigger ones.”

“You thought so, too.” While taking care of her hostess duties, Melba Ruth chatted like a magpie, asking one question and barely waiting for an answer before posing another one.

“Thank you, girls, for coming all the way out here. I didn’t want to meet in town, for all the reasons you know.” She took a sip of her tea. “So tell me what the men’s meeting was all about. I asked Hunter, but of course, he dodged my question and ducked out without giving me an answer.” She looked at Ruby, then over to her sister. “Cute disguises, girls.”

Neither of the women breathed a word, but each gave her a knowing look that made Laurel realize Melba Ruth knew exactly why they were dressed the way they were.

Although Laurel had caught only a couple of glimpses of the inside of the Sundance, she had seen both of them plain as day, but of course, she didn’t recognize them until they had met in the alley.

“I know it was about the railroad.” Melba Ruth took a sip of tea. “Hunter has always been driven, and for a kid born and raised in this simple part of the country, he’s a visionary and has always been.”

She kept talking, barely taking a breath in between sentences. “I remember when he was just a little boy, he’d help me gather eggs and I’d sell them in town. Times were tough. We were so poor we couldn’t even get a charge account at the mercantile. Eventually, I realized that either our chickens were gettin’ lazy or someone was stealing eggs. As it ended up, Hunter was beatin’ me to the chicken coops and was gathering a dozen or so eggs each morning. He’d then take them to town and sell the dern things to his schoolteacher.”

Melba Ruth laughed with sheer joy at her memories.

“It’s funny now, but it wasn’t then. He was undercutting me and I lost a customer, and didn’t know why for a long time.” Melba Ruth’s expression stilled and grew serious, but quickly relaxed into a smile. “He didn’t realize how much we counted on those eggs to put food on the table.”

“What did he do with what he made, buy candy at the mercantile?” Laurel attempted to lighten the mood.

“No. He saved every penny and bought his sister a doll for her birthday. It was endearing, but it was just the first of many times we had a discussion with him about how the end doesn’t necessarily justify the means.” Melba Ruth giggled softly under her breath. “That’s when I knew he had a special gift and someday would be a good businessman.” She set her teacup on the table. “And he didn’t disappoint me either.”

“I bet you kept count on your chickens from then on to make sure he didn’t sell them next?” Pearl said.

Laurel couldn’t control her burst of merriment at Pearl’s observation. The others joined in. It felt good to laugh, something Laurel hadn’t done for a long time.

“Okay, enough of what was, we need to talk about what can be,” said Mrs. Campbell. “What did you all find out at the meeting?”

Laurel sat back and sipped her tea and listened while absorbing everything being said. She wasn’t sure exactly what the problem was, so she’d best save her opinions until she knew more.

Ruby led the conversation, and filled not only Mrs. Campbell but Laurel in on every detail of the meeting. She didn’t miss the opportunity to discuss Greta Garrett at length, then went on to tell just how happy she was that Pearl had drawn the short straw and had to clean the spittoons instead of her.

Melba Ruth listened patiently, while making sure the teacups were filled. “I want to make this very clear. I totally support my son and know why he’s so passionate about the railroad coming to Farley Springs. Frankly, I can see some validity to it, but this time I think his vision of how it would impact our community is more of an obsession than good logic. It could be his undoing, and I can’t stand by and let that happen.”

“Why do you think so?” Ruby set her cup and saucer on the parlor table.

“This town was little more than a Comanchero trading post not too many years ago. The original town was platted in a buffalo wallow. It isn’t ready for what the railroad will bring. The stage line that Hunter has an interest in would be shut down, leaving a lot of people without jobs. It’d change his whole life, as well as the lives of others.”

“But it’d bring in new people, new jobs,” observed Ruby.

“Riffraff and shady characters galore. Our town is simply not ready to be that big ... not yet. Only a handful of people think we’re prepared to become a railhead, much less the county seat. Most are just happy that we have a schoolhouse and would settle for a library.”

Melba Ruth’s eyes were sharp and assessing, as she spoke. “Hunter is very passionate about whatever he is doing, and is driven, but he
needs
something else ...” She stopped and focused squarely on Laurel. “Or
somebody
to love more than his work.”

Laurel stirred uneasily in her seat and deliberately smiled, smoothly betraying nothing of her annoyance at the older woman for her underlying message.

Deep inside, Laurel’s soul screamed,
Not me! I don’t need anyone to need me for anything!

Melba Ruth continued, “But that will come in time. He’s wrong about what’s best for our town right now.” She hesitated and looked straight into Laurel’s eyes. “And so is your uncle. To be fair, I think those of us who feel we need a library should stick together. I know the railroad would be nice, and frankly, I wouldn’t miss the dirty drovers and dusty cattle drives, but we can’t afford to have a train here.”

“But he said the railroad will bring a lot of new merchants. Isn’t that good?” Pearl asked.

“Not if nobody in town can read the signs they put up. We have everything we need now, and my son knows exactly how I feel. We don’t need any more merchants butting into our business, taking away customers, making more competition for all of us. My mama always said, ‘Don’t trouble trouble until trouble troubles you.’ More competition will mean less income for our existing merchants. Few women are convinced that the men’s way is the best.”

Ruby sat back in her chair, then said, “We can get anything we want here in town, and if we can’t, we can order it out of the Sears, Roebuck or Montgomery Ward catalogs and get them shipped to us direct from Chicago. It looks like it’d be just a waste of money to pave the streets, hoping the railroad
might
come someday.”