Texas Born

She’d thought he meant the move to be a temporary one. He was tired of the rat race. He wanted something quieter. But they’d only been in his old family homestead for a few days when he confessed that he’d been diagnosed with an inoperable cancer. He wanted to spend some time with his daughter before the end. He wanted to run a free clinic, to help people who had no money for doctors. He wanted his life to end on a positive note, in the place where he was born.

So here was Roberta, stuck after his death with a habit she could no longer afford and no way to break it. Stuck with Cinderella here, who knew about as much about life as she knew about men.

She glared at the girl. She’d really needed the money from those stamps. There was nothing left that she could liquidate for cash. She hadn’t taken all of Alan’s things to the landfill. She’d told Michelle that so she wouldn’t look for them. She’d gone to a consignment shop in San Antonio and sold the works, even his watch. It brought in a few hundred dollars. But she was going through money like water.

“What did you do with the stamps?” Roberta asked suddenly.

Michelle schooled her features to give away nothing, and she turned. “I hitched a ride into town and asked Cash Grier to keep them for me.”

Roberta sucked in her breath. Fear radiated from her. “Cash Grier?”

Michelle nodded. “I figured it was the safest place. I told him I was worried about someone stealing them while I was at school.”

Which meant she hadn’t told the man that Roberta had slapped her. Thank God. All she needed now was an assault charge. She had to be more careful. The girl was too stupid to recognize her symptoms. The police chief wouldn’t be. She didn’t want anyone from law enforcement on the place. But she didn’t even have the grace to blush when Michelle made the comment about someone possibly “stealing” her stamp collection.

She got up from the table. She was thirsty, but she knew it would be disastrous to pick up her cup of coffee. Not until she’d taken what she needed to steady her hands.

She paused on her way to the bathroom, with her back to Michelle. “I’m... I shouldn’t have slapped you,” she bit off.

She didn’t wait for a reply. She was furious with herself for that apology. Why should the kid’s feelings matter to her, anyway? She pushed away memories of how welcoming Michelle had been when she first started dating Alan. Michelle had wanted to impress her father’s new friend.

Well, that was ancient history now. She was broke and Alan had died, leaving her next to nothing. She picked up her purse from the side table and went into the bathroom with it.

Michelle cleaned off the table and put the dishes into the dishwasher. Roberta hadn’t come out of the bathroom even after she’d done all that, so she went to her room.

* * *

Michelle had been surprised by the almost-apology. But once she thought about it, she realized that Roberta might think she was going to press charges. She was afraid of her stepmother. She had violent mood swings and she’d threatened to hit Michelle several times.

It was odd, because when she’d first married Dr. Alan Godfrey, Michelle had liked her. She’d been fun to be around. But she had a roving eye. She liked men. If they went to a restaurant, someone always struck up a conversation with Roberta, who was exquisitely groomed and dressed and had excellent manners. Roberta enjoyed masculine attention, without being either coarse or forward.

Then, several months ago, everything had changed. Roberta had started going out at night alone. She told her husband that she’d joined an exercise club at a friend’s house, a private one. They did aerobics and Pilates and things like that. Just women.

But soon afterward, Roberta became more careless about her appearance. Her manners slipped, badly. She complained about everything. Alan wasn’t giving her enough spending money. The house needed cleaning, why wasn’t Michelle doing more when she wasn’t in school? She wasn’t doing any more cooking, she didn’t like it, Michelle would have to take over for her. And on it went. Alan had been devastated by the change. So had Michelle, who had to bear the brunt of most of Roberta’s fury.

“Some women have mood swings as they get older,” Alan had confided to his daughter, but there was something odd in his tone of voice. “But you mustn’t say anything about it to her. She doesn’t like thinking she’s getting on in years. All right?”

“All right, Daddy,” she’d agreed, with a big smile.

He’d hugged her close. “That’s my girl.”

* * *

Roberta had gone away for a few weeks after that. Then, not too long after her return, they’d moved to Comanche Wells, into the house where Michelle had spent so many happy weeks with her grandparents every summer.

The elderly couple had died in a wreck only a few years after Michelle’s mother had died of a stroke. It had been a blow. Her father had gone through terrible grief. But then, so had Michelle.

Despite the double tragedy, Comanche Wells and this house seemed far more like home than San Antonio ever had, because it was so small that Michelle knew almost every family who lived in it. She knew people in Jacobsville, too, of course, but it was much larger. Comanche Wells was tiny by comparison.

Michelle loved the farm animals that her grandparents had kept. They always had dogs and cats and chickens for her to play with. But by the time Alan moved his family down here, there was only the small herd of beef cattle. Now the herd had been sold and was going to a local rancher who was going to truck the steers over to his own ranch.

Her door opened suddenly. Roberta looked wild-eyed. “I’m going back up to San Antonio for the night. I have to see Bert.”

“All...” She had started to say “all right,” but the door slammed. Roberta went straight out to her car, revved it up and scattered gravel on the way to the road.

It was odd behavior, even for her.

Michelle felt a little better than she had. At least she and Roberta might be able to manage each other’s company until May, when graduation rolled around.

But Gabriel had helped her cope with what she thought was unbearable. She smiled, remembering his kindness, remembering the strong, warm clasp of his fingers. Her heart sailed at the memory. She’d almost never held hands with a boy. Once, when she was twelve, at a school dance. But the boy had moved away, and she was far too shy and old-fashioned to appeal to most of the boys in her high school classes. There had been another boy, at high school, but that date had ended in near disaster.

Gabriel was no boy. He had to be at least in his mid-twenties. He would think of her as a child. She grimaced. Well, she was growing up. One day...who knew what might happen?

She opened her English textbook and got busy with her homework. Then she remembered with a start what she’d told Roberta, that lie about having Cash Grier keep the stamp book. What if Roberta asked him?

Her face flamed. It would be a disaster. She’d lied, and Roberta would know it. She’d tear the house apart looking for that collection...

Then Michelle calmed down. Roberta seemed afraid of Cash Grier. Most people were. She doubted very seriously that her stepmother would approach him. But just to cover her bases, she was going to stop by his office after school. She could do it by pretending to ask Carlie what time she would pick her up for church services. Then maybe she could work up the nerve to tell him what she’d done. She would go without lunch. That would give her just enough money to pay for a cab home from Jacobsville, which was only a few miles away. Good thing she already had her lunch money for the week, because Roberta had told her there wouldn’t be any more. She was going to have to do without lunch from now on, apparently. Or get a job. And good luck to that, without a car or a driver’s license.

She sighed. Her life was more complicated than it had ever been. But things might get better. Someday.

Three (#ulink_076fc7d0-def3-5567-9d7c-0a28d5f59e2d)

Michelle got off the school bus in downtown Jacobsville on Friday afternoon. She had to stop by the newspaper office to ask Minette Carson if she’d give her a reference for the scholarship she was applying for. The office was very close to police chief Grier’s office, whom she also needed to see. And she had just enough money to get the local cab company to take her home.

Minette was sitting out front at her desk when Michelle walked in. She grinned and got up to greet her.

“How’s school?” she asked.

“Going very well,” Michelle said. “I wanted to ask if I could put you down as a reference. I’m applying for that journalism scholarship we spoke about last month, at Marist College in San Antonio.”

“Of course you can.”

“Thanks. I’m hoping I can keep my grades up so I’ll have a shot at it.”

“You’ll do fine, Michelle. You have a way with words.” She held up a hand when Michelle looked as if she might protest. “I never lie about writing. I’m brutally honest. If I thought you didn’t have the skill, I’d keep my mouth shut.”

Michelle laughed. “Okay. Thanks, then.”

Minette perched on the edge of her desk. “I was wondering if you might like to work part-time for me. After school and Saturday morning.”

Michelle’s jaw dropped. “You mean, work here?” she exclaimed. “Oh, my gosh, I’d love to!” Then the joy drained out of her face. “I can’t,” she groaned. “I don’t drive, and I don’t have cab fare home. I mean, I do today, but I went without lunch....” Her face flamed.

“Carlie lives just past you,” she said gently. “She works until five. So do we. I know she’d let you ride with her. She works Saturday mornings, too.”

The joy came back into her features. “I’ll ask her!”

Minette chuckled. “Do that. And let me know.”