Texas Heroes_ Volume 1(24)

Surprise and delight jousted for top billing. “You know it’s marinara?”

Boone had to smile. “I’ve traveled a lot of places. And people in Texas know what marinara is, Maddie.” He shook his head. “Well, Jim probably doesn’t, but—”

Maddie laughed then, and Boone let the sound of it wash over him like a river’s bounty in the heat of summer. For a moment, he wanted to stop time, to simply enjoy the moment—the food, the laughter, the woman. To let it cleanse away the layers of hard feelings that time had painted into the corners of every room of this house.

In that instant Boone could feel what it had been like when his mother was alive, when this house had last rung with laughter.

“Did your wife like to cook?”

Boone froze. “Who talked to you about Helen?”

“No one talked to me about her, not really. Jim just mentioned…I’m sorry. I know she died. It must have been very hard on you. If you don’t want to talk about her—”

“I don’t.”

“I see.” She went solemn. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t see, but it doesn’t matter.” He’d known better than to let down his guard. “We don’t need to know each other’s life stories. No point in it.”

Maddie laid down her fork and drew a deep breath, straightening her shoulders. All the mischief and fun had vanished from her eyes. Slowly she rose and carried her untouched plate to the counter, removing her apron.

“It’s time for my walk. Just leave the kitchen and I’ll clean it up when I get back.” A tiny tremor threaded through her voice as her lips curved faintly at the corners. “They say the best chefs make the biggest messes. It’s pretty obvious I’m a great chef.”

Then she left, her gait stiff as if holding herself together. She headed out the front door and down the hill, as was her nightly habit.

Boone stared at his plate and wondered if he ought to just go kick a puppy for good measure.



After cleaning the kitchen, Boone walked out onto the front porch and sat on the steps, looking out toward the dwindling twilight. He didn’t see Maddie on the road anywhere, but her car was still here so she couldn’t have gone far.

He scanned the vista before him, his gaze, as always, wandering toward the little pioneer cemetery down the hill on a piece of their land. Coyote Valley Cemetery held the bones of those who had settled this place, had carved out lives from a harsh, unwelcoming land.

His mother was buried there, as was Rose Wheeler. Sam would be there, too, but Boone hadn’t paid a visit yet. He knew the reckoning was out there in the future—that someday, somehow, he had to figure out a way to let the past go. For right now, he had more to do than he could say grace over. Maybe once he’d scraped together the money and bought Maddie out, once the whole place was his again and he’d found Mitch, he could start to forgive his father.

But right now that day seemed very far away. The days between now and when Maddie left were all he could handle.

He thought about his brother, about the phone conversation he’d had with Devlin Marlowe. Marlowe seemed to have his head on straight and know what he was doing. He’d said he might pay a visit and see if he could find anything left in Sam’s papers that might help him get closer to Mitch’s trail.

Boone had told him to hold off a day or so. He wanted to find his brother, but right now, the house belonged to Maddie. Boone felt obligated to clear it with her, even though nothing of Sam’s was likely to mean anything to her.

And before he did that, he had an apology to make. Her question about Helen had seemed motivated by honest curiosity. He couldn’t even be sure that she’d heard anything about the circumstances… and no one on this place knew the whole story.

What he had said was true. They didn’t need to know each other’s life stories. They only had to co-exist for a few more weeks, then they’d never see one another again.

And while that idea turned his thoughts somber, it was a fact. It was real. Boone had learned long ago not to moon over what couldn’t be.

But even though it was real and inescapable that the less they knew about the other, the better off they’d be, Boone wasn’t in the habit of kicking puppies. He’d been rough with Maddie when she didn’t deserve it, and he would apologize. Cleaning up the kitchen was a start, but like most women, Maddie would appreciate the words.

A movement down the hill caught his eye. Maddie had been in the cemetery. He wondered why.

Your blood runs deep in this place, Maddie Rose. You have roots here.

His father’s words sent a chill through Boone’s blood.