Texas Standoff. Ruth Smith Alana

feet tapping the porch floorboards with every forward swing. She was as plain as the alamo switchgrass covering the countryside; almost homely. And she was studying him. For that matter, so was E.Z.

      “What brings you this way? I thought you’d be on the road to San Antonio by now,” she said.

      His mouth went dry. He wished for a drink of water, wished he’d heeded Riley’s advice and not bothered with saying goodbye. Now that he thought about it, maybe that was the way she’d have preferred it. Maybe she’d pegged him for some demented sex maniac and purposely arranged to be absent when he departed Cheyenne Moon. Maybe he’d been too filled with romantic notions to realize her intent and was about to make a colossal ass of himself.

      “I thought I should say goodbye personally. I wanted to thank you for.” He hesitated when their gazes collided. In the bright sunlight, those blue green eyes possessed a startling clarity, as though capable of penetrating the outer layers of a person and peering straight into the soul. “For everything,” he managed to get out.

      For a long, painfully awkward moment, she just stared at him, as if she was weighing the actions of the previous night and sizing up the man all at once.

      “I appreciate your taking the time to track me down, Mr. Majors. It was no trouble a’tall to put you up for the night.” Such was her noncommittal response. But he thought he detected a hint of melancholy, a flicker of some betraying emotion that swept across her face and crept into her voice a split second before she extended her hand.

      The creak of the rocker and the rustle of tree leaves stirring on a gentle breeze were the only sounds filling the hot air. The two of them were oblivious to Andy Smallwood’s approach until he drew dead even with them. He acknowledged Colin with a respectful dip of his head and a touch of a hand to the brim of his Stetson.

      “Yes, well, perhaps we’ll see each other again,” Colin said to E.Z. Aware of watching eyes taking in their every move, he was doing his best to conduct himself in a manner that would not betray their secret tryst or compromise her good name. The only means by which he could communicate his intimate regard for her was a firm and lingering squeeze of her fingertips.

      Feeling Mamie Smallwood’s gaze boring through her back, E.Z. extricated her hand from his grip, swallowed the lump in her throat and shrugged off the silly hope that he might mean what he said. “Well, you know where to find me should you happen to pass this way again.” It was not exactly an open invitation to visit, but neither had she slammed shut the door on the possibility of future contact.

      There was nothing left to say now. He knew it and so did she. As if on cue, Riley started up the truck. With a nod and a parting smile, Colin turned his back to her, climbed into the truck and went his own way. After all, they both had very separate lives to get on with.

      E.Z. returned to the porch. Mamie raised a brow in silent question.

      “He’s nobody special, Mamie. Just somebody I rescued from the road yesterday,” she explained.

      “That so,” her friend said in her usual dry fashion.

      Standing at the screen door, E.Z. stared after the truck until it became a speck in the distance. “I suppose he broke up the monotony a bit,” she admitted.

      “He’s sure a fine-lookin’ man.”

      Knowing her friend like she did, E.Z. was well aware that the casual observation carried a subtle probe. “Don’t make more of it than is there, Mamie.”

      “I reckon it’s no different than making less of it than is there,” was the astute comeback.

      The two women traded looks. It was then that Mamie knew for certain that the man was a complication in Elise Winston’s life, and not a minor one, either. Nope. Considering the circumstances, she’d venture a guess that the tall, tanned pilgrim had pretty much put a hitch in E.Z.’s plans.

       CHAPTER FOUR

      COLIN HAD NO DIFFICULTY getting back on course once Riley deposited him in San Antonio. Since the boss lady had ordered the old wrangler to take good care of Mr. Majors, he’d done exactly as instructed, driving him to a reputable garage and supplying the exact location of the out-of-commission Mercedes to the tow truck driver. Though Colin tried to assure him he could handle the remaining arrangements himself, Riley hung around the garage, drinking soda pop and making small talk with the mechanics while Colin spoke to his insurance agent and got the matter of his stranded vehicle completely resolved.

      “We’re in luck. There’s a satellite claims office here jn San Antonio. The agent said to have my car towed directly there and they’ll fix me up with a rental.”

      Riley apparently wanted to make certain he could tell E.Z. that the pilgrim was on his way to parts unknown when he’d left him. “Hop in ‘n I’ll carry ya over to the claims place.”

      Colin considered declining the offer, but Riley seemed to think of him as his personal responsibility. It was more expedient to let the old man complete his babysitting assignment than debate the point. Four blocks and a handshake later, Riley was headed back to Cheyenne Moon, and Colin was inside the claims office asking to borrow their phone.

      It startled him to hear his cousin’s voice on the opposite end of the line. They hadn’t conversed very much through the years.

      “I figured you’d be callin’.” His cousin had a slow, heavy drawl that made every elongated syllable he uttered the same consistency as lead. Hud acted as though words were either a precious commodity or a real bother. He sometimes butchered the English language, but he never squandered it. He preferred to dole out his words sparingly.

      “I got delayed by yesterday’s storm. The high water washed out my car.”

      “Where are ya?”

      “San Antonio.” Colin began measuring his words, also. He did not want to reveal too much of what had occurred during the past twenty-four hours to his cousin. It was none of Hud’s business, and he’d meant it when he’d promised E.Z. to keep private matters private. He did not want to risk compromising her standing in this community by loose words that could be strung together to make idle gossip.

      “Need a ride?”

      “No, just directions from San Antonio. I’ve made arrangements for a rental car. Did I miss the meeting with the oil company rep?”

      “Naw. He postponed comin’ out. Supposed to show up this afternoon. Had better sense than to try it yesterday.”

      His meaning was clear-only a damn fool would’ve braved such a gully washer. Colin envisioned his cousin smirking into the receiver. Ever since they were boys, Hud had had a way of ticking him off with his briny brand of humor: It was probably a good thing they hadn’t been thrown together very often throughout the years. Colin had the impression that Hud got immense pleasure out of cutting the younger, city-bred, University of Baylor graduate down to size. Of course, it was done in slow, mocking doses of dry West Texas wit-a trait Hud had inherited from the other side of his family and perfected by age ten.

      “Yeah, well, I just wanted to let you know I’m okay in case you were forming a search party.” It was on the tip of his tongue to remind his ungrateful cousin that if he had simply refused his request for free legal advice, he would’ve avoided this disastrous trip-the grueling drive, the pleasure of floating like flotsam on ravaging flood waters, the loss of a brand-new Mercedes. Then he thought of his rescuer and, in spite of it all, considered himself lucky. Had it not been for Hud’s mistrust of strangers and unwillingness to part with a dollar, his path might never have crossed with E.Z. Winston’s. That truly would’ve been a loss, a very personal one.

      “Got a pencil?” His cousin’s voice reclaimed him.

      “Yeah. And don’t send me via any shortcuts. I want to stick to the main roads.”

      Hud