Jared's Texas Homecoming

Somewhat relieved, she finally noticed the evidence of the deflated bag hanging from the steering wheel. “It probably saved your life.”

The man looked toward the front of his truck. “At least I’m better off than Blackie.”

“Blackie. Who’s Blackie?”

He did it then. He smiled. “Blackie is my truck.” He started to climb down.

“Wait, you shouldn’t move.”

“I’m just going to stretch my legs and try to clear my head.” He managed to get out of the truck and stood. She reached out to assist him, gripped his large forearms, then quickly released him when she realized he was doing better without her help.

“I think you should sit down.” When he ignored her suggestion, she watched vigilantly for any sign that he might pass out. He seemed pale, but that could be the powder from the air bag. He didn’t appear to have any visible bumps or bruises on his head, but she couldn’t take any chances. “Do you want me to drive you to the doctor?”

He stared at her. “Why?”

“Because, you could be hurt and…I was the one who ran you off the road.”

“You did kind of take your half out of the middle.”

“I only glanced at my son, and when I turned back there you were. This is the main road to my ranch. No one comes this way, unless they have business at the Lazy S.” She paused, knowing she caused the accident and couldn’t afford to upset this man. “I know that’s no excuse….” She brushed her hair from her face. “I’m sorry. I’m Dana Shayne. My ranch is the Lazy S and it’s just over the rise.”

He hesitated as he looked her over. “I’m Jared Trager.”

She didn’t recognize the name and she’d lived all her life outside San Angelo. No doubt he was a drifter. “Are you sure you’re okay, Mr. Trager?”

He nodded. “It’s Jared. I could use something for this headache.”

“Then let me take you back to the house. You can also call for a tow truck from there.”

“If it’s not too much trouble.”

“No, of course not,” she said. She watched as he took a duffel bag from behind the seat then reached into the bed of the truck and took out a toolbox.

“You can leave that.”

“Not on your life. These tools are my livelihood.”

She’d known men who felt that way, but usually about their horses and saddles.

They started to walk across the road. At about six-two, with a sturdy build, Jared Trager didn’t have any trouble carrying his belongings. When they reached her truck, he dropped his things in the bed then went around to the passenger side and climbed in. Dana hurried to her side and got in her seat.

“Mom, who is he?”

Dana twisted around toward her son. “This is Mr. Trager, Evan. Mr. Trager, this is my son, Evan.”

Dana couldn’t help but notice the close scrutiny the stranger was giving Evan. Then the man grinned.

“It’s nice to meet you, Evan. Just call me Jared,” he said as he reached back to shake the boy’s hand.

Her son’s eyes lit up. “Your truck got smashed up.”

“Yeah, Blackie is a little banged up.”

His eyes widened. “You call your truck…Blackie? I got to pick a name for my pony. Sammy.”

“That’s a good name.”

“But I want a real horse. Mom says I’m too little. But when I’m six, I’ll be big enough.”

Jared Trager gave Evan the once-over. “I’d say by then you’ll be about the right size for a horse. But your mom is the one who decides that.”

Dana started the engine, before her son talked the man to death. “You didn’t tell me why you’re on this road.”

He gave her a sideways glance. “I was coming to see you.”

Jared wasn’t prepared for this. He’d only arrived in San Angelo yesterday. After discovering the Shaynes and the Randells were conveniently neighbors, he’d asked around for directions to both ranches. Not sure yet if he was ready, if ever, to conquer the Randells, he’d decided to come to the Lazy S first.

More than likely this was how Marsh had first met Dana Shayne. Jared stole another look at her. Damn, she sure wasn’t what he’d expected. Tall and willowy, she had a head full of wild auburn hair, green eyes that drew you in, while hinting at secrets. He had to admit that she’d taken him by surprise. Although pretty, Ms. Shayne didn’t seem his brother’s type. Hell, he didn’t even know Marsh’s type, or why he should care. He was here to fulfill a dying request, and that was all.

Jared blew out a tired breath. All the way from town he’d been rehearsing his speech to Ms. Shayne. How to relay Marsh’s wishes for her and the boy. His strategy had been just to walk up to her door, say what he needed to say as he handed her the information about the boy’s trust, then with a quick goodbye, he’d hit the road. What did he know about playing uncle? Family had never been his thing.

Now his plans had to change. How could he predict that Dana Shayne would run into him…literally? He gripped the edge of the torn bench seat as the truck bounced over a pothole. Hell, later he’d tell her who he was.

As they drove through the ranch’s gate, Jared got a good look at the place. The Lazy S had obviously once been a showcase, but it had seen better days. The faded red barn and the once-white two-story house were both in need of paint. The corral fencing needed repair, as did the barn doors. He could spend weeks here and have plenty to keep him busy.

Wait, what was he thinking? He didn’t need a job. He had one waiting for him in Nevada.

Dana drove up to the back door and turned off the engine. She climbed out and went to assist her son.

“You want to come see my pony?” the boy asked, his dark eyes wide. Jared hadn’t missed the strong resemblance to Marsh. The same features and coloring. Surprisingly, finding this little version of his brother didn’t make him sad.

“Not now, Evan,” his mother said. “Mr. Trager’s head hurts.”

Jared noted the boy’s disappointment. “Maybe later, son.”

Dana and Evan led the way up the steps to the door. The wooden slats needed to be replaced, as did many of the boards in the porch. Inside, there was a mudroom with a washer and dryer and several pairs of boots lined against one wall. The temperature dropped when they entered a big peach-colored kitchen with floral curtains at the windows. An oval table surrounded by six chairs was the center focus, and on top, a big bowl of fruit. The place was so homey, it caused an ache in his gut for what he’d never had.

“You sure you’re okay?” she asked.

He nodded as he leaned against the counter.

Looking unconvinced, Dana went to the phone on the wall and dialed a number. She walked into the other room and talked in muffled tones. In a few minutes she returned.

“Can I get you something cool to drink?” she asked.

“If you have some iced tea, that would be nice.”

“I do.” She went to the refrigerator where several pieces of artwork were on display. No doubt the boy’s handiwork.