Carbon Copy Cowboy (Texas Twins Book 3) Page 13

  Jack rolled his eyes as Violet and Maddie exchanged one of those “twin” looks again. He felt sure that he and Grayson would never do that, not if he and Gray were truly alike. If they did happen to be carbon copies of each other, then Grayson would be just as independent and opinionated as Jack himself. They sure wouldn’t be walking in lockstep, let alone playing matchmaker in the most obvious ways. No, sir. He couldn’t help wondering what his sisters were thinking. Didn’t they realize that neither he nor Kendra were in a position to entertain romantic notions? Still, he appreciated Kendra’s support and welcomed her company for what promised to be a chancy task.

  “I’ll give you the telephone numbers of my contacts in the area,” Maddie offered. “I’m sure we can arrange accommodations for the two of you with them.”

  “That’ll be fine,” Jack replied tersely. “I’ll see what arrangements I can make tonight, then.” He looked to Kendra. “Maybe we could leave in the morning.”

  “Works for me,” Kendra said, smiling.

  He looked to Maddie then, saying, “And you can take over for Kendra in the barn.” That would teach her to meddle.

  Maddie’s mouth dropped open, but then she clamped it shut again and nodded, while Violet hid a grin behind her hand, saying, “Sounds like a plan.”

  Glancing at his mother’s still, silent form, Jack hoped it proved to be a plan that could provide them with at least some answers, because he very much feared that they wouldn’t get to the bottom of it any other way.

  Chapter Ten

  Yawning, Jack sat forward behind the steering wheel and pressed his shoulders back and together, stretching as best he could within the confines of the truck. Kendra reached for the thermos of coffee that she had filled before they’d left the house that morning. After showing Maddie what to do in the barn, she and Jack had enjoyed a hearty breakfast then set out in his truck. Kendra poured coffee into the tall, metal cylinder of his travel mug and screwed the top in place before opening the drinking spout.

  “Thanks,” Jack said, flopping his head from side to side as he reached for the mug. He took a long drink of the still-warm brew.

  “The least I can do is pour your coffee,” Kendra said.

  With no license to show, she dared not get behind the wheel, even if Jack had trusted her to drive—and she couldn’t blame him if he didn’t. She’d wrecked a car before, after all, and lost her memory in the accident.

  “Just the company is help enough,” Jack told her.

  She hoped that was true. Last night, while they’d been planning this trip, she’d felt confident that they were doing the right thing. Yet later, alone in her bed, she’d begun to worry. What if they discovered that Brian had died? What if they found Brian and he confirmed that he was not Jack and Grayson’s father? What if they found no trace of Brian?

  As if reading her thoughts, Jack suddenly said, “The more I think about it, the more I’m afraid that Brian is dead.”

  Kendra closed her eyes. “It is possible.”

  “But at least we’d know, right?”

  “Well, yes,” she agreed hesitantly. “Knowing is better than not knowing, I suppose.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I think, too,” Jack said. He shifted in his seat then, admitting, “The thing is, I really don’t want him to be dead.”

  “Of course you don’t.”

  “In fact, I—I’m starting to hope that he is my father. You know?” He shot her a glance fraught with uncertainty. “At least then I’d have a chance to get to know my dad. I mean, no matter what the story is, no matter why he and Mom split up the family, I’d have a chance to know him.”

  “That’s what I’ve been praying for,” she told Jack.

  “Maddie says he’s a good guy.” A muscle ticked in his jaw as he stared ahead at the long stretch of road. “She pretty much thinks he hung the moon.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so,” Kendra disputed. “She loves him, and she admires him. I mean, he’s a doctor who volunteers his services to treat the less fortunate, so he’s smart and dedicated and caring. But I hear some discontent in her voice when she speaks of their relationship.”

  “I’ve heard her say that he wasn’t always there for her when she needed him,” Jack murmured, “but that he wanted to be.”

  “Maybe he wanted to be there for you, too, but couldn’t,” Kendra suggested gently.

  Jack said nothing for a long while, then, “I’d like to think so.”

  Me, too. Oh, me, too. She wanted Jack to have a father’s love. She wanted that for him even more than she wanted to regain her memories, and if she’d stopped to think about that for even a moment, she’d have known just how much trouble she was in.

  * * *

  They stopped for lunch and dinner, which made for a twelve-hour day. By the time the truck pulled into the small community of Blackstone, Kendra felt a bone-deep fatigue that she knew Jack shared. In fact, because he had driven the whole way, exhaustion probably rode Jack harder than it did her.

  Thanks to the truck’s GPS system, they were able to drive straight to the parsonage of Pastor Patrick Sanchez. A small, slender man in his early sixties with thinning gray hair and a pencil-thin, salt-and-pepper mustache, Pastor Sanchez did not look Hispanic, despite his surname. They spent about an hour with him, listening to him praise Brian and the work he had done in the area.

  “Unfortunately,” said Pastor Pat, as he preferred to be called, “the last word I had of Brian, he was at a migrant camp in the area, but he apparently left sometime in the night. I’m told that he seemed ill, feverish and weak.”

  Jack looked at Kendra, and she knew that the same thoughts that troubled her also troubled him. Why had Brian left so precipitously? Had he been too ill to know what he was doing?

  “You are both tired,” the pastor said kindly. “Let us pray, then I will show you to your accommodations.”

  Jack would be staying with the pastor, but Kendra would be the guest of an elderly widow, who lived across town. Jack and the pastor drove Kendra to Mrs. Osequia’s small, modest home, where the pastor introduced them. Thanking the plump, friendly widow, Jack pressed Kendra’s hand and took himself off to a much-needed bed at the parsonage.

  Kendra gratefully sank into a hot bath in an ancient, claw-foot tub. Afterward, she practically fell into the clean, narrow bed in the tiny room to which she was shown. On some level, she was aware of the open window and lazily circling ceiling fan, but she fell asleep before the thought registered that Mrs. Osequia lived in deep South Texas without the seemingly necessary benefit of air-conditioning.

  The sun blazed by the time they found the migrant camp the next morning. Kendra sensed Jack’s impatience as they searched for those who were known to have last seen Brian Wallace. Once they at last located the camp, Kendra’s Spanish came in handy.

  It was just as Pastor Pat Sanchez had reported, however. Brian had arrived at the migrant camp on Monday of that week. By the end of the day, he’d appeared feverish, flushed and weak with a slight cough and rusty voice. He had assured his patients that his condition was not communicable, but many remarked that he had seemed sicker than those he had come to treat. He had declined to share the evening meal with those in the camp, saying only that he wanted a quiet place to rest until his ride came. No one could tell Kendra who had brought Brian to the camp. He had been dropped off by someone unknown to those there. Apparently, he had been picked up well after dark by the same person or someone else. Either way, no one knew who had provided his transportation.

  Frustrated, Jack took out a map and, using his truck’s GPS, plotted out all the hospitals and clinics within a two-hour drive of Blackstone. Armed with a plain paper photo printed out by Maddie, they set out to see what they could discover. More than once they were told that privacy laws precluded medical personnel from giving out any information abo
ut patients, but in almost every instance, they were at least able to ascertain that Dr. Brian Wallace had not received treatment in the area. It helped that Brian was known to many in the local medical field, and that the two hospitals and half a dozen clinics were small and relatively informal. Nevertheless, Jack and Kendra returned to Blackstone that night discouraged and no closer to locating Brian Wallace than when they’d started.

  Dispirited, Jack grumbled that Grayson could probably have found some sort of lead.

  “In any event, we won’t give up,” Kendra assured him.

  To her surprise, Jack lashed out. “I’m not sure I even want to know the truth anymore.”

  “Yes, you do,” she refuted gently. “You’re just disappointed.”

  “We’ve hit a brick wall!”

  “Not necessarily,” she argued. “We might still find some answers in Fort Worth.”

  Jack collapsed back into his seat, sighing. “I can’t think of that right now.”

  “I know you’re worried,” she told him softly. “So am I, but at least we can pray knowledgeably for Brian now.”

  Jack nodded. “That’s true. I just hate to disappoint Maddie.”

  Kendra smiled fondly. “Your sister will be grateful that you’ve tried to find your dad,” she assured him.

  “Do you really think he is my father?” Jack asked softly, his brown eyes beseeching her.

  Kendra pondered that for a minute, then she nodded. “Yes, I do. I don’t know why, but I do.”

  A smile tugged at the corners of Jack’s mouth, but worry quickly turned them down again. “Thanks for your help,” he told her. “I’ll pick you up in time for church tomorrow morning.”

  Leaning over, she kissed his cheek, feeling his prickly five o’clock shadow against her lips. He leaned his head against hers for a moment, but he did not turn his face and kiss her as she foolishly wished he would, which was undoubtedly for the best. And sadly disappointing.

  * * *

  During worship that next morning, Pastor Sanchez mentioned Brian and requested prayer on his behalf. That necessitated quite a lot of handshaking, murmured thanks and terse explanation after the service, so the hour had progressed well past noon by the time Kendra and Jack were able to climb into the truck and head back to Grasslands. They disappointed Mrs. Osequia by declining her invitation to lunch but with such a long drive ahead of them, they dared not delay. Instead, they picked up burgers and ate in the truck along the way.

  Kendra did her best to make conversation. Jack had called his sisters the evening before to give them the bad news that they now knew conclusively Brian was ill but were no closer to actually finding him. Kendra tried to assure Jack that none of this was his fault, but as the day wore on and the miles and hours ground away, Jack brooded more and more. Kendra sensed his withdrawal and the turmoil behind it, but she couldn’t seem to lift him out of his doldrums. She resorted to silent prayer, and somewhere between midnight and 2:00 a.m., she dropped off to sleep.

  Jack woke her by gently pushing her hair out of her face. “This is getting to be a habit,” he said wryly, standing in the doorway of the open passenger door.

  “Huh?” Straightening in her seat, she blinked sleep from her eyes and inhaled sharply. A moment later, she registered the fact that they had arrived at the ranch house. Apparently, Jack had parked, gotten out and come around to her side to wake her.

  “At least you’re aware this time,” Jack said, reaching across her to release her safety belt. “And not wearing a veil.”

  Twisting sleepily to dangle her legs out the door, she muttered, “Yeah, there is that.”

  Placing his hands at her waist, he pulled her out of the truck. Her arms naturally slid about his neck, but as soon as he set her feet on the ground, he stepped back, breaking the contact. He moved quickly to haul her suitcase out of the backseat. Maddie had loaned Kendra a small overnight bag for the trip, and Jack set it on its rollers, pulling up the handle. Kendra stepped forward to take the handle, but Jack refused to relinquish it, muttering, “I’ll get it.”

  Too tired to argue, Kendra led the way into the house. Someone had left a light on for them. They trudged through the house to the staircase nearest the kitchen and began the climb, Jack carrying her bag. At the landing, he finally yielded it, whispering, “G’night.”

  “Jack,” Kendra whispered, “I’m sorry we didn’t find Brian.”

  Sighing, Jack nodded. “Me, too.”

  “Please don’t give up,” she urged him.

  “Maybe that’s what God wants me to do,” he retorted. “Maybe I should have given up on my past a long, long time ago. If I had, maybe Mom would be here now and Brian would be...doing whatever it is that he does.”

  “You didn’t cause your mother’s accident,” Kendra told him, “and you certainly didn’t cause Brian’s illness. And whatever the reasons behind the split up of your family, that’s not your fault, either.”

  He studied her for long, weighty moments with sad eyes before his lips curved in a smile. “You’re good for me,” he said, then he leaned in and lightly kissed her cheek, whispering, “I’m sorry.”

  She didn’t know why he felt the need to apologize, but she realized as he went back down the stairs that he hadn’t brought in his own bag. Far from resolving the issues that kept Jack from fully embracing his new-found family, the trip that she’d so heartily endorsed had, instead, driven him even farther away from those who loved him.

  * * *

  “I am sick and tired of excuses!” Jack snapped, glaring at Ty. The tall, lanky cowboy had ridden over to the Lindley place to inform Jack that the last alfalfa cut would have to be delayed by at least another twenty-four hours.

  The laconic ranch foreman propped an elbow on the horn of his saddle and pinched his chin between the thumb and forefinger of his hand, calmly drawling, “If the old baler breaks down, the old baler breaks down, Jack. A fact is a fact.”

  Jack ground his teeth, knowing that Ty was right, but they were pushing the calendar already and the last alfalfa cut yielded the sweetest grass and smallest hay bales. The big bales that they got from the summer cuts could be left out on the range under tarpaulins to preserve their quality until they were needed for winter forage, but the small bales went into the barn for use there. Unfortunately, they still depended on Uncle James’s fifty-year-old baler for the small bales, and when it broke down these days, replacement parts usually had to be handmade. That played havoc with the harvest schedule, which was tricky, at best.

  “So what do you want to do?” Ty asked. “Wait another day or leave the last field as is to fallow?”

  Jack sighed, weighing the issues before making a decision. “Cut it.” They needed every bale they could grow to get them through the winter. Ty muttered agreement and wheeled his mount. At the last minute, Jack called out to him, “Hey, Ty.”

  The cowboy set the horse back on its heels and looked over one shoulder. “Yeah?”

  “Sorry I barked at you. I’m in a foul mood.”

  Ty grinned in that slow way of his. “Uh-huh. Haymaking does that to a fellow.” He touched his heels to the flanks of his horse and rode off, chuckling.

  Jack scowled and stomped back into the house. Haymaking, as if that was all he had to concern him. Ty knew otherwise. No doubt, he was privy to all the family secrets now, thanks to Maddie. What Ty couldn’t know, though, was how desperately Jack wanted Brian to be his father. He wanted the man to turn up safe and sound and be glad of having another son. While he was at it, he wanted his mother to wake up and be her old self again. He wanted to know the truth about his family and why they’d split up.

  And he wanted Kendra.

  Stupid as it was, he’d gone and let himself fall for her. Knowing that she wasn’t free to return his feelings, that she would surely be leaving them as soon as her memor
y returned or someone from her past tracked her down, Jack had still let his heart become entangled. He didn’t even know her name, let alone where she might be from, but that didn’t matter. In her presence, he felt hopeful, whole. He wanted her to be the woman he believed her to be. He wanted her to be free. He wanted more than her gratitude and friendship.

  He wanted any number of things that he couldn’t have, and staying away these past three days hadn’t done a bit of good. If anything, staying away had made the wanting keener. He’d prayed, and he’d contemplated, and he’d worked until he fell into an exhausted slumber each night, and still he had to wonder what God could be doing.

  Why would God allow his family to be split? What purpose could Belle’s coma possibly serve? How could Brian get lost while serving God? And why bring a beautiful amnesiac into the mix? None of it made sense. To his human way of seeing things, none of it offered anything to the situation except more angst.

  Sighing, Jack looked around him. He’d started hanging gypsum board upstairs, but he hadn’t done much down here. He ran a hand over the newel post, remembering that Kendra had expressed a preference for stain over paint. Then he wondered if he could ever live here without thinking of her, without wanting that for which he dared not wish.

  Bowing his head, he decided that he would not attend prayer meeting again that night. Given his surly mood, he and everyone else would be better off if his prayers were accompanied by the pounding of nails.

  As in the days before, he worked late into the night. He did not, however, think he could settle down to sleep at the house tonight. Strangely, he felt a need to be at the big house at the main compound that night. He wanted a real bed and a hot shower. He wanted to feel others around him even if they were all asleep.

  Slipping into the darkened house around midnight, he expected everyone—especially Kendra, a notorious early riser—to be fast asleep. He hadn’t taken four steps along the upstairs landing, however, before he realized that someone waited outside his door. As soon as she rose from the chair that she’d placed there, he knew who it was. He couldn’t help a thrill of delight, even as he sought to avoid her.