Wild Horse Springs Read online

  How was it possible to love someone, she thought, and know that you couldn’t be with him?

  The front door opened, and Lauren guessed her father was finally getting to work. He sometimes came in for a few hours before he went over to breakfast. Maybe she’d walk with him this morning. Tim could probably eat both trays he brought while he watched Thatcher sleep.

  The door opened again and again. The county offices were waking up. Doors were banging, phones ringing, people moving about.

  She glanced toward Thatcher, curled in his blankets. He’d tried to call his girlfriend back a little after midnight. She hadn’t answered.

  After that, Thatcher turned his face to the wall and acted like he was asleep, but she’d noticed it was a long time before he settled. The kid had been abandoned by his family years ago. He had no clue how much the people of the town cared about him. Charley Collins had taken him in but never tried to be his parent. Thatcher, at fourteen, wouldn’t have allowed that. Charley being a friend was far more important to the kid. He might have nothing to his name, but Thatcher figured since he was tall enough he’d stand equal to the rancher and Charley had been smart enough to treat him that way.

  Everyone in town knew Charley loved Thatcher like a son, but Thatcher called him by his name. Pop had said that when Charley Collins visited with the boy, he’d ask Thatcher how he could help. The kid might have taken every suggestion Charley made, but it was Thatcher’s call.

  Lauren walked the length of the two-cell jail. All night the place had felt like a tomb.

  The sheriff’s and county business offices on the main floor were the oldest part of the building, so every sound carried up like smoke from a greenwood fire.

  The two courtrooms on the second floor sat silent most of the time.

  The jail had been added on later and was usually used for weekend drunks. The smaller third floor had always reminded Lauren of a hat on top of the building. When she was little, the entire place fascinated her. This was her playground while her pop worked. Then, sometimes, long after dark, he’d step to his office door and whistle. The sound carried up the stairs, and she knew it was time to go home.

  At twenty-five it was probably too late to ask Pop to whistle, but a part of her wanted to come home, really home. She was shy, quiet, not meant for the big city. She needed grounding, not anonymity. Lauren wanted to belong somewhere.

  She heard voices below.

  Curiosity got the better of her. After a few minutes, she decided Thatcher wasn’t going anywhere. She might as well check downstairs.

  In her stocking feet, Lauren moved down the steps. Pearly was opening blinds and didn’t see her pass.

  Lauren could hear a voice that sounded familiar. She stood at her father’s open office door, afraid to go in, afraid to move. A man in a black suit sat on the corner of Pop’s desk. His legs were long. His shoes polished. She couldn’t see his face, but he didn’t dress like he was from around here.

  Black hair, perfectly styled, curled over his white starched collar.

  “Lauren,” her father called; he’d spotted her. “Come on in. You remember Lucas Reyes.”

  She’d expected him to change in the years since college, but the man who turned toward her was far more a stranger than a friend. His eyes were the same dark brown, but now they seemed cold, almost formal, as he offered his hand like they were meeting, were touching, for the first time.

  Lauren played along. “Hello, Lucas. What brings you back to Crossroads?” She wasn’t about to tell her father that she’d called him at midnight last night.

  “A friend told me a kid was in trouble. I’m between cases right now and thought I’d take a few days off and see if I could help.” His smile was formal, practiced. “I’m betting my folks will be happy to see me, too. It’s been a while since I’ve made it back. My dad told me the next time I came, arrive ready to help out. He’ll probably have me working all week. I can almost hear him now saying, ‘Saddle up, boy, the cows don’t know it’s Thanksgiving.’”

  Pop frowned. “If Tim O’Grady called you, he’s wasted your time. It’s just a matter of hours before this whole thing will be cleared up. I’ve almost got Luther talked into dropping the charges if Thatcher will apologize. Once Luther thought about it, he saw the truth.”

  Her father didn’t seem to notice no one in the room was listening to him. Lucas was staring at her so hard she doubted he was blinking, and she was doing the same. Somewhere in this polished man was the seventeen-year-old who’d saved her when she’d almost taken a fall one night in an old abandoned house. The boy she remembered was thinner, shy, not as certain of himself. He’d been the first boy who’d kissed her, so innocently, the night she’d turned sixteen.

  Finally, Dan stepped between them and added, “Don’t pay any attention to Lauren not joining the conversation. She’s got to be dead tired after driving in from Dallas yesterday and then up all night watching the prisoner and probably listening to Tim. If he could write as fast as he talks, he’d be a walking library.”

  Lauren realized she was standing there like a mute. She moved over to her father’s coffeepot and pretended to consider a cup.

  “I’d like to look over the report anyway, Sheriff.” Lucas had turned away from her and back to the sheriff. “I know we’d all hate to see this kid’s life messed up just because he threw one punch.”

  “You’re welcome to everything, Lucas. It’s public record. Lauren will even take you up to talk to the kid, but I don’t see that it would do any good.”

  “Thanks, Sheriff.” Lucas stood and shook Pop’s hand then turned to her. “Will you show me the prisoner?”

  “Sure. Follow me.”

  Pop waved them on as he glanced at his phone. “Stay with Thatcher another hour, Lauren. I’ve got an errand to run.”

  She smiled back at him. “Yeah, I noticed, Pop. You forgot to shave.”

  “Right,” he said, as he put his phone to his ear and turned his back.

  Lauren slowly climbed the stairs, trying to think of something to say to Lucas. The last time she’d seen him was outside the hospital after her father had been shot a few years ago. He’d driven half the night to make sure she was all right. They’d talked and then fought. He’d made it plain he’d wanted to be on the fringes of her life even then. After that night, when she yelled at him for breaking up with her before they’d even started dating, he dropped off the fringes completely.

  His footsteps sounded several feet behind her now. He didn’t say a word or make an effort to catch up. It occurred to her that he was probably as lost for words as she was.

  “Tim and I spent the night with Thatcher, and he didn’t tell us anything new,” she called back to him. “He’s eighteen, but Pop didn’t want him to feel alone, and the only deputy he has right now is in Austin for training.”

  She unlocked both the outer doors quickly and rushed into the open space between the two cells. Thatcher was still in his cot sound asleep.

  Turning, she watched Lucas as he stepped from the hallway shadows. She could see him more clearly now. His black hair wasn’t as in place as she’d first thought, and dark whiskers dusted his jaw. For a moment he almost looked younger. Maybe not the guy she first got to know in high school or the cowboy he’d become on weekends to earn money during college, but more the man who’d evolved from them and not the slick lawyer she’d seen the last time they’d talked.

  “Lauren,” he said in his low voice, slightly flavored with his Spanish heritage, “I drove all night because you asked me to help. You must have known I’d come when you called. Are you all right?”

  Maybe it was because she hadn’t slept or because she’d wanted to see him for an eternity, but Lauren shattered. With one gulping cry, she ran full out to him.

  Lucas caught her in his arms and swung her around. He held her so tightl
y she couldn’t breathe, but Lauren didn’t care. Then, as if they’d been lovers, he kissed her.

  She melted, remembering how he’d been the first boy to kiss her, the first to touch her with passion and the first and only one to break her heart.

  She’d kissed him one night in a bar hallway while she was still in college and he’d already graduated and was out working. They were both back in Crossroads for a weekend. Neither had planned the meeting. They’d shared something hot and wild for a few moments, then she’d run, disappearing before they could finish what she’d started.

  Only now she was older, wiser. She wasn’t holding back from what she wanted and neither was he. Maybe it was only one kiss. Maybe they were ending something more then starting. Right now, she didn’t care.

  The kiss was explosive with need, and they held on to each other as if both feared the world would pull them apart again. She let her mind shut down and her body simply feel.

  “I may be wrong—” Thatcher’s voice came from ten feet away “—but I’m guessing you two know each other.”

  Lucas groaned and pulled away. For a moment, he looked down at her, smiling, with a promise in his eyes. “We’ll continue this discussion later, Lauren.”

  She nodded. Then turned and introduced Lucas Reyes to Thatcher Jones as formally as she could muster.

  Thatcher tilted his head sideways and stared at her as if he weren’t at all sure she hadn’t had her brain replaced in the ten minutes she’d been gone, but he didn’t say a word.

  Lucas, on the other hand, did turn into someone she had never met. All at once he was friendly, outgoing, a take-control kind of guy. All the shy, hesitant boy was gone. The man before her was confident and polished.

  The lawyer in him seemed to have forgotten she was in the room.

  “Glad to meet you, Thatcher Jones. I’ve been called in to visit with you. After we’ve talked, if you decide we’d make a good team, I’ll work my hardest to get you out of here.”

  Thatcher frowned. “Do you even know what I did, mister?”

  “No, but you’ve got someone who believes in you, and that’s enough for me.”

  Lucas must have realized that his polished style might not work here, so he transformed like a chameleon, relaxing his body, leaning against the bars. “Look, I haven’t had any sleep, and I’m pumped up on caffeine. Give me a few hours, and I’ll know all about what got you to this place. You think I could come back about noon and we could talk? It may look like we have nothing in common except both knowing Lauren.”

  “I’d say you probably know her better than I do.” Thatcher scratched his head.

  Lauren wouldn’t have been surprised if fleas didn’t start jumping out in mass evacuation. When Pop got back, she’d suggest allowing Thatcher to shower.

  Lucas grinned at the kid. “I grew up here, too. Lauren and I go way back.”

  “Yeah, I’m guessing all the way to the tonsils.” Thatcher froze. “Wait a minute, you’re Lucas Reyes. I’ve heard of you. You rode with Yancy Grey and Staten Kirkland that night they rounded up rustlers on the Double K. I was just a kid then, but I remember everyone talking about it. You’ve been in a shoot-out, almost got killed fighting rustlers on Kirkland land that night. Man, you’re a legend. What you cowboys did was straight out of a western.”

  Lucas laughed. “I was there. We rode the canyon at night and came up behind the men stealing cattle. When Mr. Kirkland gave the signal, we all raised our rifles. The rustlers gave up when they saw forty armed men on the ridge. It wasn’t the battle it’s become. Just a good plan.”

  “Heroes always do that.” Thatcher nodded. “They talk down what they do.”

  Lucas agreed. “Like you did when you took fire saving the sheriff out on County Road 111? That story made the news all over Texas. You faced bullets to get the sheriff out.”

  “Anyone would have helped. I just happened to be there. I didn’t even know I was hit in the leg until we were halfway back to town.”

  Lucas shook his head. “No, some men act while others just watch, Thatcher. You’re one of the good guys, and I’m here to help you get out of this place as fast as I can.”

  “I can’t pay you much.”

  “I’m not asking much.”

  They shook hands and began to talk. Lucas had a way of getting information from Thatcher without seeming to ask questions. Lauren listened, admiring his skill.

  Tim showed up with two boxed breakfasts from the café about the time Daisy Franklin delivered Thatcher’s “prison meal,” which included a dozen cranberry muffins with a jar of homemade plum jelly.

  Tim greeted Lucas like an old friend, and the three sat down to eat, even though Thatcher’s table was on the other side of a line of bars.

  By the time Lauren went downstairs and brought them back two cups of coffee and a Dr Pepper for Thatcher, the three of them had decided to share the Franklin sisters’ breakfast with sides of the diner’s pancakes and French toast.

  Lauren declined any breakfast, and said she wanted to go home and check on Pop. He’d been working far too hard. After being up for two days, he’d probably gone home for more sleep.

  She slipped away without any of the guys commenting. In truth, she needed time to think.

  Halfway down the stairs she remembered that she’d left her shoes in the open cell. When she turned, heading back up, Lucas was five feet behind her.

  He smiled as he handed over her shoes. “When this is over we need to talk.”

  “No,” she whispered. “Whatever was between us was over years ago.” She couldn’t let herself believe there could be something between them. She’d believed it too many times before.

  “You’re wrong, and saying it is doesn’t change a thing.”

  She looked into his brown eyes and realized she’d probably hurt him as many times as he had her. Maybe there was something between them, maybe there always would be, but they weren’t meant to be together. They were oil and water.

  He was still standing in the same place on the stairs when she made it to the main floor. She glanced up at him and knew Lucas was right. There was and had always been something between them that needed to be settled. Be it love or lust, it needed to be dealt with before either of them could move on.

  When she reached the lake house, Pop wasn’t there. The shower was still steamy, but he’d vanished. Something important must have pulled him away.

  Again. As it had a thousand times when she was growing up. She’d always been proud of her father. He was vital here, needed.

  If she left Dallas, no one would even notice she was gone, but reason told her she wouldn’t find herself in Tim or Lucas.

  At twenty-five, it was about time she grew up.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CODY WOKE TO the sound of giggling. He knew he was in the hospital. His leg felt like it had been stretched, tortured and wrapped in concrete. His head must have been stapled back together with power tools. His chest hurt every time he breathed, and the soundtrack in his torture chamber resembled the whispering of little girls.

  He opened one eye. Bright lights sparked through his brain. Why couldn’t the nurses turn down the lights when they left? He wasn’t likely to want to read or land an airplane in his condition, but the nurses had the room ready.

  The girls’ chatter finally stopped.

  Before he could relax back into unconsciousness, a high voice from the side of his bed whispered, “Does it hurt, mister?”

  “No,” he lied, and moved his head slightly to the left.

  A head of sunshine hair was peeking over his bandages. “Who are you?”

  “I told you last night, I’m Melanie Miller. You probably have memory problems. Ranger Tess said that sometimes happens with head wounds. She called it am-nose-sia. Said you might not even remember you
r own name.”

  It was coming back to him. The fall, the little girls, the woman who’d touched him. “Where are the others?”

  “We’re all here.” A cute little redhead popped up beside the one with blond braids. “Except for Chloe. Her mother said she got a cold last night from being out in the night air, but I think it’s probably pneumonia.”

  Melanie nodded at the redhead he remembered as Marjorie, but Melanie obviously wasn’t finished talking to him. “Do you know your name, mister?”

  “Sam?” Cody said.

  She frowned.

  “Pete, maybe?” he added as they both shook their heads.

  “Jack? I’m almost sure it’s Jack.”

  Melanie looked at the redhead. “Obviously permanent brain damage.”

  Marjorie agreed, then whispered, “Don’t ask him any more questions. Let’s just talk about Chloe. Maybe it’ll get what mind he has left off his troubles.” They both looked in his direction and gave that smile women must learn at birth that says nothing was going on.

  Cody never dreamed he’d find any female under twenty-five interesting enough to talk to, but who knew, these girls were adorable. He hurt in so many places he’d thought laughing would be out for months, but these little girls achieved a miracle.

  “People die from pneumonia, you know, mister, if they aren’t careful, and it was cold out in the van last night,” Marjorie said. “We watched them take you away. You looked dead lying there on that board they put you on.”

  A few more heads popped up, all nodding. One who hadn’t mentioned her name told him that the rescue was far more fun than staring at stars.

  Another asked how long it would be till he was dead because they had to all leave pretty soon.

  He tried to look like he was serious. “I don’t think I am going to die. Unless you all are angels, but to tell the truth I don’t think I’m heading in that direction.”

  “You’re not if you keep cussing. My momma said so,” a chubby girl in the back added. She’d been the one in the van, he remembered, who’d cried as she’d watched him. “She says cussing is the devil’s language.”