WIND BUFFETED THE RIG, howling around the cab and making Morgan tighten his hands on the wheel. Gusts had to be hurricane strength, which wasn’t unheard of in this part of Texas but not something he wanted to be out in.
The windshield wipers could barely keep up with the rain. He struggled to keep his gaze trained on the lines he had to remain between. Thankfully, few vehicles were coming this way since the headlights were blinding on the water-covered glass.
Morgan wanted to get to Haskins Corners tonight, but that was looking more and more like stupidity at this point. His frustration grew.
Brooke was with Tara. Would she stay there? He couldn’t lose her again. Hurrying would be dangerous, and in reality, he should pull over under the next overpass. Soon, he wouldn’t have a choice. It was all the cover he’d find out here.
He turned off his stereo and flipped on the radio. It might be static, but he’d find a weather report somehow. He’d tried his phone a while ago, and the storm must have knocked out at least one cell tower. He had battery power, but not much else.
Old, twangy country music crackled through the speakers. Yep, he’d get reports on this channel—he just had to listen to this stuff in between. Finally, the noise came to a halt and a man’s voice came on. “It’s a stormin’ out there tonight, folks. Hope you’re home safe and not out on the roads. The state patrol has just issued a high-profile vehicle restriction until 10:00 p.m. tonight. That means you boys out in them eighteen-wheelers need to pull over.
“Take cover if you can. It’s gonna be a long wait. Could be a while before this one blows through.”
The disc jockey somewhere in musicland pushed a switch and another lovesick fool started crooning through the speakers. Morgan switched it off, not bothering to turn his stereo back on.
Morgan knew this road, and it was too flat and open. He’d be better off stopped, without the momentum of the truck to add to the storm’s strength, but the next overpass was several miles ahead. Maybe he could find a hill.
He inched along, not seeing much beyond the headlight’s beam. A gust caught the back end of the truck, and Morgan felt it slip. He struggled to balance the weight of the truck against the slide.
Stopped out here in the open was better than sliding off the road. Slowly, he applied the brakes, hoping to bring it to a halt quickly, but not too quickly.
He felt another gust yank at the back end. He hard-corrected, knowing he was doing the right thing, knowing that he could pull the truck into control if he timed everything right. He cursed, feeling the pull of inertia and doing everything he could to fight it.
The headlight beams found the edge of the road, found the soft shoulder that was just as soaked as the pavement, maybe worse as the rivers of water ran off the asphalt. Thick grass grew at the edge of the narrow strip of road, and he hoped there weren’t any fences or steep drop-offs he couldn’t see in the darkness.
His heart pounded against his ribs. His arms strained, but he hadn’t tipped and he wasn’t spinning. Not yet. A crack of lightning cut across the sky, blinding him for an instant, time he didn’t have to spare.
Thunder rumbled in tune with the big tires hitting gravel, and just as he felt the truck respond to his commands, his vision returned. A stretch of barbed wire appeared ahead.
He had to hope he’d planned enough time to stop as he hit the brakes harder and hung on. If he hadn’t, this was going to be a bumpy ride.
* * *
THE BIG RANCH house was lit up, with nearly every light in the place on. Who all was here?
Brooke had fallen asleep on the drive, her small head resting on top of the dragon’s. She looked adorable, and if the girl hadn’t been holding so tight to her phone in case Morgan called back, Tara would have snapped a picture for him.
Tara hated to wake her, so she quietly opened the car door. The rain wasn’t much more than a light mist here, but it was still cold. She grabbed what she’d need and hurried around the hood of the car.
Carefully, she opened the passenger door, gently disengaging the seat belt and scooping the girl and her dragon up in her arms. Brooke barely stirred, laying her head trustingly on Tara’s shoulder.
She hurried up the walk and wasn’t even surprised when she reached the veranda and Wyatt was holding the screen door open for her.
He didn’t say anything, just looked at her with curiosity and a raised eyebrow.
The house was full, and Tara was surprised Brooke didn’t wake up. Was she okay? She thought about putting her in one of the half dozen spare rooms to sleep, but knew her waking up in a strange place would not be good.
Instead, she went to the couch and sat, Brooke still snuggled close. “Hey, Brooke,” she said softly, pulling away from the girl.
Brooke clung tight, and Tara realized she wasn’t asleep, not really. “It’s okay,” Tara said. “This is a safe place.”
Brooke still didn’t let go, but she turned her head to look at Tara. “Where are we?” she whispered.
“Remember, I told you we were coming to my brother’s house? We’re here.”
“Oh.” Still, Brooke didn’t move.
“This is Wyatt.” She turned so Brooke could see him without moving.
Wyatt, being the man he was who was always good with kids, leaned closer. “Hi. Nice to meet you. What’s your name?”
“Brooke.”
“Hello, Brooke. Welcome to my house.”
Brooke still clung tight to the dragon and her arm squeezed Tara’s neck. “He’s tall,” she whispered. “My daddy’s tall, too.”
Tara figured almost everyone was tall from the little girl’s perspective, but she didn’t tell her that. “Wyatt knows your daddy.” Maybe that would help ease Brooke’s discomfort.
“He does?”
“Uh-huh.” Tara nodded. “Wyatt, you met Morgan the other night, remember?”
“Oh, yeah.” Wyatt eased onto the couch beside them. “You’re right, he is tall. I hear he has a big truck, too.”
That did the trick. Brooke sat up, still holding on to Tara and the dragon, but not leaning so tightly against her. “It’s really big. Makes a lotta noise, too.”
“We can do that here, too.” Wyatt smiled. “Did you two have dinner?”
“We did,” Tara told him. “But maybe there’re some stray cookies around?”
“I think we’ve got some, if Tyler hasn’t eaten them all.”
“Who’s Tyler?” Brooke asked.
“He’s our nephew. He likes cookies almost as much as I do,” Wyatt explained.
“Not as much as me.” Brooke smiled.
Wyatt smiled back. “Come on.” He stood and led the way to the kitchen.
Tara let Brooke slide down and didn’t say anything when the girl reached for her hand. “You’re coming with me?”
“Of course.” Tara stood. “I like cookies, too, you know.”
When they reached the wide doorway that led into the kitchen, however, Brooke stopped. Family and ranch hands sat around the big table. Nearly a dozen people in all. Juanita, the cook, stood at the sink, finishing the evening’s dishes.
Tyler slid off his chair. “Hi!” He came over to them. He put his hand out, like all the men on the ranch did when meeting someone. The fact that he was nine years old only made the gesture more adorable. “I’m Tyler.”
“Hi.” Brooke hugged Tara’s leg. “I’m Brooke.”
She probably didn’t know how to shake hands. Tyler didn’t seem to notice, shrugging and waving her to follow him. “You can sit by me. There’s lots of room over here.” He walked over to his seat and pulled it out.
Brooke looked at Tara, questioning.
“It’s okay,” Tara said. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Slowly, Brooke let go of her hand and crawled onto the chair. Her chin barely reached the table’s top, but she didn’t seem to mind. Tyler carefully pushed the chair in a couple inches. “Here.” He slid a small plate with a cookie on it toward her. “You want some milk?”
Brooke shook her head, her ponytails sliding back and forth. She took the cookie and nibbled on the edge. Her eyes were wide as she looked around at the room full of people.
The cowboys slid along the bench seat that ran the table’s length, giving Tara space next to the girl. She smiled her thanks.
“Brooke and I came here when we heard the flood warnings. The whole town’s included.”
“You’re safer here,” Wyatt said. “I was going to go get you if you didn’t head this way.”
The kitchen door came open just then and Brooke jumped. Tara laid her hand gently on Brooke’s shoulder when she saw who’d come in. “That’s my other brother,” she explained with a smile. “That’s DJ.”
DJ looked over, consciously clearing his frown. He asked Tara, “Is that...?”
“Yeah.” Tara had explained everything to him at the diner before he’d agreed to take her to the fight. How much had he shared with Wyatt? Some, she guessed, as Wyatt had accepted Brooke’s presence without any questions.
At least for now.
* * *
TARA’S GRANDFATHER HAD built this house, making it the heart of one of Texas’s largest and most successful ranches. Growing up, Wyatt had spent most of his spare time out here with Granddad, what time he’d had when he wasn’t helping Mom after Dad’s death and when he wasn’t in school. It hadn’t been a surprise to any of them that he’d taken over when Granddad had gotten too ill to run the place.
They’d all come here as kids, feeling the love and acceptance that Granddad had showered on them. But Wyatt had always seemed a part of this place.
Now Tara felt that family love reach out and wrap around her and Brooke. Brooke must have felt it, too, as she soon relaxed and started to nod off again.
“Are you sleepy, hon?” Juanita came over to kneel beside Brooke’s chair. “We got lots of big beds upstairs you and your dragon friend can snuggle down in.”
Brooke shook her head, leaning toward Tara. Juanita looked at Tara, a frown in her eyes.
“I have an idea.” Tara smiled at the older woman. “When I was little, I used to love to build a fort in the den, remember? Maybe we could do that tonight.”
Juanita’s warm grin grew. “I remember. That way Tara could stay with you. Would you like that?”
“A fort?”
“It’s really cool.” Tyler grinned and nodded. “The den is a big old room with a fireplace and bunches of pillows on the couches.”
“Okay,” Brooke softly agreed. “You’ll be there?” She turned pleading eyes to Tara.
“I will.” She stood and extended her hand for Brooke to take it. “I’ll even get it set up for you.” She looked at Wyatt, not really asking his permission but wanting some type of reassurance that she was doing the right thing. He nodded.
“Emily should be home soon.” He glanced at the door. “She called a bit ago and was almost home.”
Tara nodded and led Brooke to the den. It was on the other side of the family room, past the staircase. The wooden double doors were open and the room was dark. Tara hit the switch, and the lights came on the same instant the gas fireplace came to life.
“Oh.” Brooke stared in awe at the flames, and Tara wondered if she’d ever seen a gas fireplace before.
Juanita came in with an armload of blankets, and by the time she had the blanket tent with a half dozen throw pillows set up, Brooke was giggling at the woman’s antics.
She still held Lanara tight, though, never letting go of the toy. Even when Juanita helped her change into an old T-shirt of Wyatt’s that she’d brought as a makeshift nightgown. It nearly reached the ground.
“My, don’t you look lovely.” Juanita smiled at Brooke, who lay down on the same big pillow Tara had loved to snuggle on. Tara settled on the couch nearby, staring into the flames as Juanita left them alone.
“Tara?” Brooke whispered. “When I wake up, will Daddy be here?”
“I hope so, but I guess that depends on how long you sleep.”
“Okay.” Brooke smiled and closed her eyes, holding the stuffed dragon against her chest. It wasn’t very long before her even breathing told Tara she was asleep. Even asleep, she didn’t let go of the dragon.
Tara’s heart hurt as she watched the sweet little girl. Looking now, she could see where she resembled Morgan. Her eyes were pure Sylvie, but with them closed, her pouty lips and nose were all Morgan’s.
“She’s exhausted.” DJ’s voice was a soft whisper as he walked into the room. Wyatt followed and closed the double doors.
“Yeah.” Tara didn’t move as the men sat on the couch facing the one she sat on. The only light was from the dancing flames, but she could see her brothers clearly. “I think she’s had a rough time.” Tears stung her throat.
“How’d you find her?” DJ knew about Morgan’s yearlong search.
“I didn’t. She found me.” Tara shifted on the couch. “She’s been in the diner a few times with her babysitter, which is why Morgan’s been hanging out there. He kept hoping he’d be there when she came in.”
“Hell, if that’d been my kid, I’d have moved in,” DJ said.
“He about did,” she agreed with a smile, remembering all the times Morgan had inhabited that end stool. “Tonight, I almost missed her. Wade and I were closing when she came in. I think she was starving. She ate three grilled cheese sandwiches.”
Wyatt cursed. “She’s a good kid.”
“Yeah.” Morgan would be proud of her. “She’s scared of her mom’s boyfriend. I’m not sure her mom even realizes she’s gone.” Surely by now Sylvie, or at least the babysitter, had noticed her missing.
“Does Morgan know you have her?” DJ leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. If anyone understood how Morgan felt, it would be her brother who’d almost not known about his son.
“I don’t know. We tried calling him. The connection kept breaking up. I’ve tried to leave him a message.” She lifted her phone. “But his phone is either dead or off.”
“What about her mother?” Wyatt asked.
“I have no idea where she is or how to contact her.” Tara’s voice rose in anger, and Brooke shifted in her sleep. They all seemed to hold their breath until she settled again. “What kind of mother lets a six-year-old run around in weather like this?” Her anger grew the longer she thought about Sylvie.
“She was the woman who pushed you the other night at the fight?” Wyatt asked through clenched teeth. Tara nodded.
Wyatt used some choice language for the woman and Tara smiled. “Yeah. That.”
They all sat staring at Brooke for a long time. “What are you planning to do?” DJ finally asked.
“I’m not sure.” Tara met her brother’s intense stare, then looked at Wyatt. “I need to talk to Emily, but Morgan deserves to get her back.”
“It may not be that simple.”
“I know. But Sylvie doesn’t deserve to have her.”
“I agree. Still, we’re not making the decisions.”
“Morgan said he’d contacted a lawyer about a divorce, asking for full custody.”
“They’re still married?” DJ’s voice rose, a hint of outrage in the words.
“Just hold on.” Tara lifted a hand. “Don’t go getting all judgmental. I saw the paperwork. They’d be divorced by now if he could have found her. He’s telling the truth. His brother confirmed it.”
“His brother?” Wyatt asked.
“Oh! I can call Jack.” She didn’t have his number, but she was pretty sure she knew who might. She thumbed her phone and dialed Wendy’s number. Relief washed over her.
“Hello?” Wendy answered, sounding like she’d been asleep.
“Wendy? It’s Tara. Sorry to bother you, but do you have Jack’s phone number?”
“Hmm...uh, yeah. Just a minute. It’s in my phone, but I’m talking to you on it.”
That made sense. “I really need to get ahold of him. It’s urgent.”
“Is Morgan okay?”
“I—” She swallowed. “I think so.”
“Oh, good. When I saw the news, I thought maybe it was him.”
“What news?” Tara’s heart beat hard in her chest, and she looked at her brothers. “Wendy?”
“You didn’t hear?” Wendy’s voice was soft. “I’m sorry. There’s a jackknifed rig on I-35. The news reports sounded bad.”
“Oh, God.” Tara looked at the little girl asleep on the big pillow. Brooke had fallen asleep expecting to see her Daddy when she woke up. What if it was Morgan, what if...? Tara couldn’t even think, couldn’t imagine...
“What is it?” Wyatt stood, looming over her.
“There’s been an accident,” Tara whispered. “A jackknifed rig.”
She completely forgot about Wendy, until Wyatt took the phone and started talking to her. Tara couldn’t listen, couldn’t even think. She could only stare at Brooke.
So close. He’d been so close.
* * *
WATER POURED ACROSS the diner’s parking lot. A single vehicle, a battered red pickup, sat in the rain. The water lapped halfway up its tires.
Morgan turned in the narrow drive, pulling up to the door, not even bothering to do more than stop. He jumped down, pounding on the glass doors. There was a light on, clear in the back. Dear God, was Brooke back there? With Tara? Alone?
He pounded harder. “Hey, anyone in there?”
Wade stuck his head out the swinging doors and ran across the dining room. He hastily unlocked the door. “I was yellin’ at you that we’re closed. Sorry, man.” Wade let him in and struggled against the wind to close the door again. “They ain’t here,” he told Morgan and headed into the kitchen.
“Where are they?”
“Headed out to Wyatt’s ranch. It’s upriver and on a hill.”
Relief so thick it threatened to knock him to his knees washed over Morgan. Brooke was safe. She was with Tara. She was with all those cowboys who’d taken such good care of Tara. He let it all sink in.
“What are you still doing here?” he asked Wade.
“Trying to get this stove disconnected. We don’t need a gas leak on top o’ all this water.” He waved toward a stream of water coming in under the back door. “DJ put it back last time, and that man’s got some serious torque power.”
“Let me help.”
They headed to the big stove and together pulled the coupling loose.
“Whew. That’s a relief.” Wade stood back and wiped his brow. “I just wish I could do somethin’ about the rest.” He looked sadly toward the dining room.
“What do you mean?”
Morgan stepped away from the stove and took in the area around them. On the big pastry table where he’d watched Tara make bread and so many other things, two small plates still sat side by side. The chair from Tara’s office and a step stool were next to it, as if someone had sat there.
Wade saw him staring. “That little girl with Tara ate pert’ near three sandwiches. Not sure where she put it. She’s a skinny little thing.”
Morgan couldn’t move. The crust of bread had little girl teeth marks in it. Brooke’s. His heart stopped, then pounded. After all this time, all this pain and anguish and work, he’d finally found Brooke? What was that stinging in his eyes?
“Hey, man, we need to get goin’. That water’s a comin’.” Wade was staring at the screen on his phone. Another weather alert blared through.
“She’s going to lose this place,” Morgan whispered.
“Maybe.” Wade nodded. “Those boys did a bang-up sandbag job, but even a little water’s gonna ruin that wood furniture. Took her months to find it all.”
“Not if I can help it.” Morgan sprinted through the dining room and flung open the glass doors. The Closed sign on the door whipped in the wind. He unlocked the back doors of the empty trailer, barely hearing the slam of the metal against the frame as they opened.
“You need some help?” Wade yelled.
“If you can spare the time. We gotta hustle.”
Neither of them spoke as they set to work. Chairs. Tables. Putting the buffet, with all the linens that weren’t stuffed under the back door, inside.
“Sure wish I could save that stove.” Wade stood staring at it.
“There’s no way, man.”
“I know.” Wade smiled faintly. “Just a thought.”
“Anything else?”
They looked around. The patter of the rain on the French doors echoed in the nearly empty room.
“Just that chair in the kitchen. She’d be awful upset to lose that one.”
So would he, he realized, as he pictured Brooke sitting on it eating the sandwiches. He hustled through the door, and snagged the little wooden chair.
“Guess that’s it,” Wade finally said, heading to the front door.
“Then let’s get out of here.” Morgan put the little chair inside and, with Wade’s help, managed to get the metal doors closed and locked down. It wasn’t a watertight solution, but it was a sheltered one. Better than what was heading toward the diner.
Wade locked the diner’s glass doors behind them and jogged over to his pickup. The water was nearly to his knees, but he managed to get the truck to start and pulled out of the lot the same instant Morgan heard a loud crack.
The tree. Morgan watched as the big pine he’d noticed last week, on the other side of the creek, swayed in the rough wind. Back and forth.
He cursed, but before he could move, he saw it tilt, saw the big ball of roots that normally held it in the bank lift into the air.
Morgan stared as the thick green boughs come down and bounced off the hood of his steel truck. The metal over the cab buckled, and the tree slid just enough to wedge between the building and the seat where seconds later he’d have been sitting.
Water rushed over the broken bank. And headed straight toward Morgan.