Home To Texas

Lynn nodded. She went to the dresser and switched on a chipped little lamp shaped like Donald Duck. “This used to be Cal’s,” she said with a smile. “I think he’d like knowing it’s here.”

The two women moved softly down the hall. “I’m surprised he can sleep,” Tara said, looking back over her shoulder.

“He and Jamie played hard.” Lynn turned right from the hall, heading for the kitchen. “Come on. I put a couple of wine coolers in the fridge. Let’s drink a toast to your new house.”

The kitchen’s original appliances were gone. Next to the sink squatted an old three-burner stove. Beside it, an equally ancient refrigerator hummed and gargled, as if to prove by its noise that it was on the job.

Lynn swung open the creaking door, withdrew two bottles and uncapped them. From the cupboard she took a pair of mismatched jelly glasses and, with a flourish, filled them. She handed one to Tara, and they clinked the glasses together in mock solemnity.

“To your new house,” Lynn proposed. Each took a sip.

Then Lynn tilted her head and regarded Tara over the rim of her glass. “What do you think of the place? Are you depressed beyond words?”

“It’s wonderful,” Tara said sincerely. “And a thousand thanks for all you’ve done.”

Lynn tossed a dubious glance at the card table and wobbly chairs she’d set up in the kitchen for mealtimes. “Cal said you’ve done this before? Lived with nothing but the basics?”

Tara nodded. “My parents did it almost a dozen times. Believe me, we really roughed it a few times. This is luxury in comparison.”

“This was a beautiful house once, and it can be again. I have the feeling you’re the one to make it happen. Want to look at the main living space again?”

Tara nodded. Together they drifted through the door and back to the central living area. Lynn had created a makeshift office near the fireplace and facing the western bank of windows. She’d used a sturdy wooden table for a desk and had found a handsome old-fashioned oak swivel chair to complement it.

Nearby, she’d put a pair of cushioned lawn chaises and a cuddly looking beanbag chair in front of the small television. She’d even hooked up a VCR and placed a basket of videos beside it.

She’d put another box of toys by the television: cars and action figures and Thomas the Tank Engine characters that her own son had outgrown.

Of all Lynn’s acts of kindness, her kindness to Del touched Tara most. She was so grateful that she could not find words, and her throat knotted.

But Lynn acted nonchalant, as if readying a house for a stranger was all in a day’s work. She looked up at the oak-beamed ceiling. “This place was well-built, that’s an advantage. And another is that it wasn’t empty long. Only since June.”

But her expression changed when she moved to one of the big windows overlooking the valley. Her calm brow furrowed, the corners of her mouth tugged downward and she shook her head. “Fabian. He nearly ruined it all—damn him.”

Tara, moving to her side, followed her gaze. Gavin had sketched out Fabian’s story with professional detachment.

But Lynn simmered with emotion, and Tara saw why. Beneath them, the landscape was different from the rest of the Hill Country. The valley was as desolate as a wasteland. A huge hole gaped in the earth as if a meteor had smashed into the ground, destroying everything around it.

“This used to be a gorgeous vista.” Bitterness tinged Lynn’s soft drawl. “That’s why the Harrises built their house here—they owned the dude ranch. They were going to build out on the edge of the property, but they couldn’t resist this view…now it looks like very hell.”

The valley stretched out bare, bulldozed and eerily lifeless. Lynn’s tone changed to sadness. “In spring there used to be a carpet of bluebonnets down there—acres and acres, so beautiful you couldn’t believe it. And other wildflowers. Seas of them.”

Tara studied the dead and barren land. “Will the flowers come back?”

“It’ll take years. Unless our brothers reseed it.” The thought smoothed her brow, made her smile. “If I know Cal, he’ll want to.”

Tara nodded. So would Gavin.

Lynn pointed to the huge raw-looking pit. “That’s where that fool Fabian tried to put his lake. He never should have picked that spot, but he had to exploit the flowers. Bluebonnet Meadows he was going to call it.” She squared her jaw in resentment. “Well, the bluebonnets are gone. And so are his cheesy model homes.”

“Gavin told me,” Tara said softly. Fabian, set on his grandiose development, had tried to create an enormous artificial lake. But autumn rains had drenched the county, breaking his dam, and a wall of water had swept the valley, devastating it.

Lynn pointed to a featureless bulldozed area. “The first thing Three Amigos did was route the water back the way God intended. They had to bring in people from Dallas to do it. They’ll fill in that lake bed when they can get enough equipment here. And good riddance.”

A chill prickled Tara’s bones at the sight of so much folly. “Gavin said that’s why it’ll be hard for me to get labor for a while. That the flood destroyed so much downstream that everybody’s working there.”

“I’ve found a few people to tide you over,” Lynn said. “But yes, Fabian caused damage, especially down at Baswell. Thank God the land’s not in his hands anymore.”

“If people resented Fabian developing this land, won’t they resent Three Amigos doing it?” Tara asked. It was a dark thought, one that had nagged her.

“But this is different,” Lynn said, raising her chin. “Fabian wanted to put over a thousand houses on this land. They only want a few hundred. And to keep the land as natural as possible.”

“If they can pull it off. It’s going to take time, work—and money.” Tara was still worried over Gavin’s money, although he assured her the Hawaiian property was starting to bring in money—a lot of it.

“They’ll make it work.” Lynn clearly refused to doubt her brother. She changed the subject.

“You’re going to be isolated out here. I’m glad you have a dog. Is he a good watchdog?”

Lono wasn’t a big dog, but he had a terrier’s protective and fearless heart. He’d fling himself into the midst of a pack of jackals for loved ones. “He’s the best.”

“Good.” But Lynn looked thoughtful, almost haunted. “But eventually you’re going to have a lot of men out here on construction. And you’ll be the only woman. You can’t be too careful. Once I was…”

Her voice trailed off, as if once more she had wandered into a topic she’d rather not speak of. Tara examined the emotions fleeting across Lynn’s mobile face. “Once you were what?”

“Nothing. There was some—trouble. This roughneck—never mind. Sam’ll loan you a rifle if you don’t have one of your own.”

Tara had spent time in wild country when she was growing up. She knew guns were sometimes necessary, but she also had an instinctive hatred of them. “No, thanks. But if I change my mind I’ll let you know.”

Lynn looked Tara up and down as if she liked what she saw. “Do that. And call me for any reason. I mean that. Most of my family’s gone, and I’m not used to it. I’d love to be needed.”

Then Lynn glanced at her watch. “Oops, Hank’s going to be home from school soon. I need to get cracking.”

Tara walked her to the back door. She touched the other woman’s shoulder. “Again, I can’t thank you enough. You’ve made me feel I’m very lucky.”

Lynn grinned. “No. Hole in the Wall seems back in good hands at last. I think we’re the lucky ones.”

Tara hoped so. But as she watched Lynn drive off, the word repeated itself ironically in her mind. She was alone with her son in a strange house in a strange region.

She wondered what Burleigh Hastings would say to see his grandson in such a run-down house overlooking such a desolate view. He would claim she was insane to bring him here.

I can’t worry about him. Not now. There’s too much else to do now.

She rolled up her sleeves so that she could get to work.

GRADY FELT LIKE FORTUNE’S FOOL.

The weird little housekeeper had been right. More bad news came, and it came by phone. Accidents, she’d said.

Please understand that accidents happen, Jervis Jensen had pleaded with Grady. Please, please understand that.