The Prodigal Texan

“What can I do?” Ethan Ritter took the bag of tin cans Miranda still held and set it on the ground. “Kayla’s going to come looking for me any minute.” Ethan was another recently married citizen, a man who, more than most, deserved some lucky breaks in his life. And his wife, Kayla, definitely counted as good luck.

Once the group had done its best—or worst, depending on how you looked at it—the participants stood back for a moment to admire their handiwork. Miranda happened to be facing the Loveless County courthouse, so she was the first to notice a man approaching from the far side of the square. A long, lean drink of water he was, wearing boots and jeans and a chambray shirt under a leather jacket, but no hat on his head, cowboy or otherwise. The sun sat low in the sky behind him, leaving his face in shadow. He walked with a distinctive limp and she knew of no one in town who’d been injured lately. Obviously he wasn’t a local.

“Who’s that?” she asked, of no one in particular.

“I don’t know,” Ryan said, squinting into the sun. When she glanced at Ethan, she found his eyes hard, his mouth set in a straight line. “That’s my brother Jud.”

Miranda put a hand over her belly button, just at the spot where her stomach had suddenly shrunk into a tight, throbbing ball. Four years felt like no more than four hours, as humiliation flooded through her. How could she face Jud Ritter again in the light of day? In front of her friends? And his brother, for heaven’s sake! Could she retreat to the reception in the park before Jud arrived?

Other questions occurred to her as she watched him limp toward them. Why the hell had he come back? What right did he have to spoil an otherwise terrific afternoon? Did he seriously think anyone wanted him here?

His brother evidently didn’t. As Jud drew close, Ethan stepped out in front of the group, a barrier nearly as effective as a stone wall. He didn’t say a word in welcome, or even acknowledgment.

The move forced Jud to stop some distance up the sidewalk. “Hey, Ethan. How are you?”

Ethan hesitated before accepting the handshake his brother offered. “We’re fine.”

When Ethan didn’t say anything else, Jud looked past his shoulder to the party in the park. “That’s some shindig going on. What’s the occasion?”

“A wedding. You probably don’t remember Noah Kelley, and his wife, Greer Bell.”

“I do remember Noah, in fact. And Greer.” He turned to Wade. “Hey, Sheriff. I thought you were in charge of preventing vandalism.”

“I’ve learned when to turn a blind eye,” Wade said as they shook hands. “Some of us read the Austin newspaper, you know. We heard about your little ‘accident,’ even way out here. A citation for going above and beyond the call of duty, wasn’t it?”

“I was just doing my job.” An unspoken message passed between the two men, before they turned in different directions.

Jud nodded to Ryan, standing just behind Miranda. “Hey, Gallagher. How’s it going?”

“Great.” Ryan stepped forward to shake Jud’s hand. “Let me introduce you to my wife, Kristin.” He put an arm around the petite blonde and drew her forward. “Kristin, Jud and I used to run wild together, back in high school.”

Jud held her hand a moment. “I always knew Ryan would choose a beautiful wife. I’m glad to meet you.”

Kristin looked him over with an appraising eye. “I also manage the health clinic here in Homestead. If you need some help while you’re here, please come by.”

“I’m okay,” Jud said with a shrug. “Just an accident at work.”

His wary gaze traveled to Miranda’s face. “I understand you won your election and rescued the town from disaster. Very impressive.” His flat tone drained the compliment of any meaning. He didn’t offer a handshake.

She dropped her own half-raised hand to her side. “I—”

“Ethan!” Kayla Ritter stood on the edge of the party nearest the street. “Ethan, they’re getting ready to cut the cake. Are you finished?”

“You bet.” Ethan started toward the park without so much as a nod to his brother, followed by Wade and the Gallaghers. Miranda lingered to gather the remnants of Project Newlywed. When she straightened up, she found Jud had collected a couple of shoe polish bottles and a length of ribbon.

“These were in the street.” He eased the trash into the bag she held in her arms, which brought his hands close to her chest. “What’s the fine for littering?”

“Life behind bars with no possibility of parole,” she said without thinking, desperate to put some distance between them.

Jud snorted. “I believe that. This always was a straitlaced town.”

Was he talking about her? “Having standards doesn’t make us straitlaced.” With her heart pounding, Miranda turned on her heel and headed toward the park and the wedding party. After all, he was the one who’d stopped, that night. She would have let him go all the way….

To her dismay, Jud fell in beside her. “There’s a fine line between having standards and being narrow-minded.”

She stopped in her tracks to confront him. “Only to someone who’s determined to defy good sense and decency.”

He stared down at her, his dark eyes narrowed under lowered brows. “I wondered how long I’d be here before somebody threw my past in my face.”

“Did you think I—we’d all forgotten?”

“I guess I hoped that just maybe, after fifteen years, people could let go of the past.” Shaking his head, he gave a weary sigh. “Dumb, Ritter, real dumb.”

When he didn’t say anything else, Miranda turned toward the party again. After only a few steps, though, she realized Jud wasn’t coming along. Despite herself, she glanced over her shoulder to see if he’d gone back the way he came.

Instead, he was staring up at the oversized statue of Hilde Schnorrberger guarding the entrance to Homestead Town Park. Hilde had followed her land-hungry husband to Texas, but when she reached the bank of Pecan Creek, she’d tied her bonnet to a tree and refused to take another step.

“Things have come full circle, haven’t they?” Jud looked from Hilde’s face to Miranda’s and back again. “A woman founded the town and now a woman’s running it.”

Miranda set her jaw. “You object to the idea of a woman in authority?”

“Not at all.” He gave her a wink and a half smile. “I’m fine with having a woman on top.”

Heat flared over her throat and across her face, but Miranda refused to be baited. “Then you’ll feel right at home in Homestead, won’t you?”

“That,” Jud said quietly as she walked away, “is what I’m here to find out.”

NAN WRIGHT stationed herself at one end of the long table borrowed from the Methodist church to hold the potluck dishes folks had brought to Greer’s wedding reception. Her other option for passing the time was to go sit with the older ladies—mothers and grandmothers—as they gossiped about the latest love affairs, the newest pregnancies, the possible divorces. Nan kept telling herself she would never get that old.

Just as she wedged a spoon into the creamy goodness of macaroni and cheese, a jolt in the food line brought someone new to her end of the table.

“Delicious,” Cruz Martinez said. When she looked into his face, he winked at her. “The food, too.”

He reached for the spoon she’d just added to the dish and Nan watched in fascination as his fingers closed on the metal handle, still warm from her touch.

Cruz grinned as he moved to the next dish, green bean casserole. “Are you having fun over here?”

She glanced around to be sure nobody was listening. “Not exactly.”

“Me, neither.” He spooned a helping of creamed corn onto his plate. “Why don’t you come out from behind there and dance with me?”

“I—”

“Pardon me.” Clarice Enfield reached across the table to serve herself a helping of scalloped tomatoes. “What are you doing standing in line over here, Cruz? You should be out on the dance floor with one of these cute young girls. Nan, where’s Miranda? She’d be perfect for Cruz, don’t you think?” She elbowed him in the side. “You two love-birds could live in the cabin and Nan could live in the farmhouse like she does now. How perfect would that be?”

Once Clarice had moved on to the salads, Cruz leaned over the table. “How about you and me in the cabin and Miranda in the farmhouse?” he murmured.

Nan couldn’t help smiling. “Hush! Next thing I know, all these motormouths will be talking about me. Go sit down and eat.”