Coming Home To Texas

“No thanks, Gran.” Ellie sat down at the table, feeling tired despite the early hour. She hadn’t slept especially well last night, despite the exhaustion she’d felt after hoisting two suitcases into the trunk of her car and driving the fourteen hours to Blue Thorn Ranch. “I don’t want to send Derek anything at all, not even hate mail.”

“I hope they yank his television spot when they find out what he did to you.” With a warm curl of delight, Ellie realized Gran was getting out the makings for pancakes. Gran’s pancakes were the cure for just about every hurt life had to offer, and Ellie hadn’t tasted them in months. Today she wanted them more than anything.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if an escapade like that made him even more popular,” Ellie admitted as she reached into the cabinet behind her to hand Gran the flour. “He’d use it, too, if I know him. Derek loves getting attention from the press, even if it’s negative, and the whole bad-boy-chef persona is hot right now.”

Gran held up a spatula like a battle sword. “Not with me, it ain’t.” Adele Buckton was no one to mess with.

Ellie loved the “nobody hurts my grandbaby” glare in Gran’s eyes. After losing her best friend and fiancé in one heartbreaking revelation, it bothered her immensely that no one she’d told in Atlanta had seemed surprised that Derek would cheat on her. And very few seemed ready to rise to her defense. Had no one really expected them to work out? Had everyone hid their doubts or, worse yet, their suspicions as to Derek’s ability to be faithful? “I guess the bride-to-be’s always the last to know.”

“It ain’t fine with your brother, neither,” Gran added. “Gunner would be on his way over there right now to tan his hide if it weren’t for all this trouble with the herd.”

Ellie’s big brother, Gunner, was just the type to drive fourteen hours to pummel Derek for what he’d done. Like their grandmother, Gunner never swallowed threats or insults with any grace. Having been in her shoes—finding the love of his life in the arms of another—not too many years ago, Ellie could see how Gunner wouldn’t hesitate to make Derek pay for his infidelity.

Things were a bit different now. Gunner had found love and had married a wonderful woman, gaining a sweet young stepdaughter in the process. Even though he was the oldest, Ellie would never have guessed Gunner would marry before herself or their younger twin siblings, Luke and Tess. Married life clearly suited him, but Ellie just couldn’t decide if Gunner’s newlywed happiness gave her hope or rubbed salt in the wound of her own romantic failure.

“What’s going on with the herd?” Blue Thorn Ranch had been reborn from her father’s failing cattle operation into a thriving bison ranch thanks to Gunner, but the transition was still recent enough to produce new challenges all the time.

“We think someone’s been taking potshots at our animals,” Gran explained as she poured the tea into the pot to steep and then flicked a spray of water onto the griddle. It sizzled and popped, indicating the griddle was hot and ready for pancake batter. “The herd is edgy, and we’ve heard rifles at night. Gunner has a meeting with the sheriff’s office this morning to coordinate the investigation.”

Ellie’s ears picked up on the sound of little feet galloping down the stairs. “Pancake Saturday!” little Audie cried as she burst into the room clad in bright pink pajamas. The girl stopped in front of Ellie. “Aunt Ellie? When did you get here?” Ellie found her waist encircled in pink arms that squeezed deliciously tight.

“Long after your bedtime, Audie. How’s my favorite niece liking the fourth grade?”

Audie looked up at Ellie, making a face. “Fractions are awful, but I love science and art. Gunnerdad says math is useful, but I mostly think it’s complicated and boring.”

Gunnerdad. Audie’s invented Gunner-and-Dad combination never failed to put a smile on Ellie’s face. He made a big show out of tolerating the name, but the way that man looked at his stepdaughter told everyone how much he loved his new role as Audie’s “Gunnerdad.”

“Where’s your mother?” Gran asked the girl as she handed plates to Ellie to set the breakfast table.

Audie replied by squinting her eyes shut and sticking out her tongue.

“Sick again?” Gran asked. “I’d guess you’re getting a baby brother, then. Only baby boys give their mamas that much trouble.”

Gunner was going to be a father. And despite the morning sickness, Ellie knew how thrilled the loving couple was about their upcoming arrival. How smart an idea was it to run away to a house so full of happiness? Ellie’s coffee turned bitter in her mouth, as if her own life soured all the more by comparison.

Just as the pancakes were dished up, Gunner walked in from the barn. Ellie had seen him last night when she’d arrived, but in the light of day, he looked so different from the rebellious big brother she’d once known. Here was a “bad boy” who’d grown into a fine, upstanding—but admittedly still stubborn—man. The kind of man she’d once thought Derek was becoming. Evidently some bad boys never outgrew their bad. “Hi, Els,” he said, giving her an extra-tight hug before sitting down at the table. Ellie reeled with a sudden and deep gratitude to feel her big brother by her side. Sure, all the love-and-marriage happiness in this house stung a bit—a lot, actually—but Gran was right; this was the best place to hide and heal.

At least that was what she hoped.

“Don’s bringing out the new deputy when he comes today,” Gunner said as he accepted a large helping of pancakes. “This guy’s from California. He’s worked with vandalism cases.”

“Vandalism?” Ellie questioned. “Is someone spray-painting graffiti on your bison?”

Audie giggled.

“Do you remember that internet video I sent you, Audie? The one with the Irish sheepherder who dyes his flock colors like Easter eggs every spring?” Ever since she’d met her new niece, Ellie had snuck in time to amuse the little girl with videos and playful messages as a break from her day job of amusing food critics and reporters as a public relations specialist for Atlanta’s largest chain of restaurants.

Audie nodded and she turned to her stepdad. “Can we do that? Dye the bison? Maybe just the babies? We could make a video just like the shepherd man!”

Gunner shot Ellie a “thanks for nothing” look before issuing a declarative “No, we can’t.” For a new dad, Gunner had the authoritative father tone down pat. It shouldn’t surprise her—their father had been a master of such tones, but never with the touch of amusement and affection that softened Gunner’s words.

“But Ellie told me you can make yarn out of bison fur the same way you make it out of sheep fur, so why can’t we?”

“That’s true,” Ellie said, smiling at Gunner. She and Audie had been emailing fun facts to each other for months now, and evidently her new niece had been paying attention. “I can see it now—the blue bison of Blue Thorn Ranch.”

Gunner’s frown predicted a few words for his little sister after breakfast. “I run a ranch, not a circus,” he growled, digging into his pancakes.

Ellie winked at her niece. Yes, this was a good place to run and hide after all.

Chapter Two (#ulink_d0a9b1ae-48c6-5e22-ba98-2881b959efba)

“‘Oh, give me a home, where the buffalo roam...’”

Nash turned to look at his boss, County Sheriff Don Mellows. “You gotta be kidding me.”

Don stopped his singing and chuckled. “I am. No deer and antelope playing here. These here are American bison, anyways, so don’t you be calling them buffalo in front of Gunner Buckton.”

Buckton? Wasn’t that the name from the traffic stop last night? “Bison not buffalo—got it.” The leap from LAPD to this local County Sheriff Department seemed to grow longer and wider with each new day.

And stranger. Nash was still getting accustomed to his deputy position in this small town and its rural surroundings. Don was about as down-home cowboy as anyone Nash had ever seen, right down to the boots and y’alls. For a city cop used to dealing with gangs and criminals, this was new territory.

“Why are we here again?”

“Buckton thinks someone may be taking shots at his animals.” Don pulled up to the ranch’s large entrance gate. Nash tried to calculate the distance from this place to where he’d stopped Ellen Buckton last night—the geography just about fit. “He’s worried there may be some foul play involved,” Don continued. “I figured your background might be useful while we take a look-see.”

“Has Buckton got enemies?” Nash surveyed the rolling pasture, spying a few of the large brown animals milling about. Tall green grass, wide blue sky, livestock roaming—the whole thing looked like something out of a travel brochure. If this was the home Ellen was running to, Nash had to agree it looked like a good, big place to hide. After all, the sprawling space of the region had drawn him for much the reason.

“Enemies? He’s got ’em. Most men do. The family’s been around for ages—everybody knows the Bucktons—but they got in a row with a big real estate developer last year. Could be someone’s not too happy about the spiffy condo development that got stalled on account of it. Of course, could be just stupid kids. Not likely rustlers, though—they would’ve taken the animals, not tried to scare ’em.” Don punched the button on the gate’s intercom. “Howdy, y’all. It’s Don from the sheriff’s office.”

A far cry from standing in a Kevlar vest yelling “LAPD! Open up!” Texas really was its own world. And now—at least for now—it was Nash’s, too. He looked down at his steel-toed shoes and wondered what his feet would look like in fancy cowboy boots like Don wore. Or whether Don’s wide hat would suit him. He couldn’t mesh the images in his mind. Did you have to be a cowboy if you lived in Texas? Austin was a world-class metropolitan city, admittedly a bit of a quirky one, but parts of LA were downright strange, so that was no clue.

“Well, hello there, Don,” a female voice drawled over the crackly intercom speaker. “Gunner’s in the barn, so pull right on up. I’ll put some coffee on for afterward. And there’s blueberry pie.”

Don smiled. “Blueberry pie. Miss Adele, you do know how to make a man’s day.” Don waggled an eyebrow at Nash. “That’d be Miss Adele, Gunner’s grandma. Was a time she and her husband ran this place.” Then he added, “Anybody ever feed you pie back in California?”

Nash thought about the offer of cookies late last night. This had to be the place. If he saw Ellen Buckton, this morning would get a whole lot more interesting. “No.”

“Well, then, you ought to be glad you’re in Texas, Larson. A sheriff eats good in Martins Gap.”

The gate rolled open to let the cruiser head up the curving lane. The gravel road bent through the tall grasses to end at a cluster of buildings. Large low barns surrounded a sprawling stone ranch house with a wide front porch. A sizable fenced-in corral off one barn held a pair of bison, one large, one smaller. “Nice folks, the Bucktons,” Don went on. “Been on this land for ages. Miss Adele’s husband and son raised cattle. Gunner Jr.—that’s who you’ll meet today—turned the operation over to bison a few years back, right after his dad died. Good people.” Don turned to Nash. “But even good people can collect some bad enemies, ain’t that the truth.”

“It is.” Nash could easily agree, having been a good cop who had made nasty enemies by putting away a gang lord or two in LA. After several months on high alert as the top target of two gang hit lists, his rehabilitation for a pair of close-call gunshot wounds had been enough to make him want to get out of that city. A friend had passed along the opening here in the sheriff’s department, and Nash had felt as if God had opened up the escape hatch for which he’d been praying.

As they got out of the cruiser, an elderly woman with a cane made her way down the porch steps. The resemblance was enough to confirm Nash’s guess—this was where Ellen had been heading.

Don smiled and waved. “One of these days we’ve got to meet up for good reasons, Miss Adele.”

“I hear you, Don. Let’s have you and Linda out for dinner one of these days.” Miss Adele raised a gray eyebrow at Nash. “So this is your new deputy?”