The Rodeo Man's Daughter. Barbara Daille White

more charcoal for the grill, he’d seen the worn-out condition of the shed there and the broken-down fence sagging behind it. When he and the girls had put the card game on hold to rearrange the living room furniture for the sleepover, he’d seen the frayed edge of carpet behind the couch. Roselynn’s business wasn’t fine, and he knew it. He’d also bet real estate didn’t keep Tess as busy as she’d let on.

       He would eat this handful of cards if she could prove either of those things to him otherwise.

       Well, if she wouldn’t give him the truth, he would get it somewhere else.

       She’d just headed into the kitchen to put the teakettle on.

       He threw his leftover cards onto the pile on the table. While one of the girls shuffled the deck, he rose to straddle his chair backward, tilting it on its rear legs, moving closer to a small table for two placed against one dining room wall.

       Roselynn and Ellamae sat there, polishing off a couple of pieces of Ellamae’s pie. Roselynn turned her attention to him.

       “Caleb, may I cut you another slice?”

       He nodded. “Just a sliver.”

       When she handed it to him, he took a forkful, smiled his appreciation, then said, “The bed-and-breakfast here is new since my time. How long have you had it running?”

       “Just a year now.”

       “Things going well?”

       A slight wrinkle appeared between her brows and she fussed with the pie server. She didn’t have Tess’s flair for avoiding answers, though. “Fair to middlin’, I guess,” she said finally.

       Ellamae made a choking sound. “Roselynn, your nose is gonna grow. Fact is,” she said to Caleb, “the inn business is almost out the window.”

       “No guests?”

       “No guests.”

       “We’ve had a few,” Roselynn protested. Then she sighed. “But not for a long spell.”

       He couldn’t state the obvious, that Flagman’s Folly didn’t have enough going for it to make it a tourist attraction. She’d have to do something to draw them in. “Are you advertising?” he asked.

       “That’s expensive.”

       “True. But as people say, sometimes you’ve got to spend money to make money.”

       “I suppose you’re right.” Roselynn lifted the empty pie plate. “Excuse me. I’ll just run this into the kitchen.”

       When she’d gone, Ellamae chuckled. “Run’s the word, all right. Looks like you’ve just scared her off. Not something you’re used to with women, I’d reckon.”

       “They’re usually headed in my direction,” he acknowledged. “Used to be, anyhow.”

       “What happened?”

       He blinked.

       “Yeah, I know,” she said. “I’m nosy. And I’m blunt. You ought to remember that from days past.”

       “I sure do.” He laughed.

      She was tough, too, and wiry, an older woman with graying hair and snapping dark eyes. Looked like any number of seasoned cowhands he could name. But Ellamae didn’t herd cattle. She had an even more demanding job.

       Keeping the peace in this town.

       Ellamae worked as the court clerk. As a teen, Caleb had been up at the judge’s bench a time or two, called in for jaywalking and riding with no lights on his bike—minor offenses not regularly requiring a court appearance. But in Flagman’s Folly, things didn’t always run the “regular” way. Another reason he’d left town at the first opportunity and never come back. Until today.

       Judge Baylor kept a firm grip on his gavel inside the courtroom and out. And Caleb had always suspected Ellamae, with her direct way of dealing with folks, held as much power as the judge when it came to anything that went on around here.

       Maybe that’s why she’d unbent once in a while and let him off the hook when the judge cracked down on him. Maybe it’s why she was conversing so freely with him tonight. And why he somehow felt he could trust her in return.

       “We could use some straight talking right now,” he said, thinking of his earlier conversation with Tess. You could tell she and Ellamae came from the same family tree. Tess’s flat responses couldn’t have gotten any more direct, though in a closemouthed way that left him more frustrated than before. He sensed it wouldn’t be the same with Ellamae. But to get from her, you had to give. “As for what happened, I got bored with things. And then I got hurt.”

       “Yeah, we heard about it. That bull tossed you six ways to Sunday, didn’t he?”

       He nodded.

       “I saw you limping some when you got here. Noticed it got worse after you stood at the grill a while. I thought that rehab place fixed you up.”

       He shrugged. “After a long day, I get to feeling some aches.”

       “Don’t we all.” She gave him a surprisingly sweet smile. “Well, you shoot pretty straight yourself, so I’ll tell you this. Roselynn might come back here ready to chat with you, but she won’t allow you much without a sugar coating on it. Tess won’t allow you anything at all.”

       He nodded again.

       “Found that out already, huh?”

       “Yeah.”

       She smiled. “Then, it’s lucky you got me. I’ll flap my jaws in a good cause any day.”

       Together, they shot glances toward the doorway. All clear.

       “Okay, then.” Caleb tipped his chair forward another notch. “Start flapping.”

       TESS PUT THE CARAFE of hot chocolate in the center of the tray and surrounded it with coffee mugs. The girls didn’t need the extra sugar this late, but since they wouldn’t sleep much tonight, anyway, that didn’t matter.

       What mattered was what she needed, and that was to get rid of Caleb. To safeguard her peace of mind. Her sanity. And maybe to protect her heart. Something inside still hurt after that unfeeling apology he’d given her.

       Roselynn came into the kitchen and set the pie plate on the counter near the sink. “Need any help?”

       “No, I’ve got it, thanks.”

       She looked over at the carafe. “You have enough for Caleb to have a cup of chocolate, too, don’t you?”

       “Yes, Mom. But I would imagine he’ll be leaving any minute now.”

      Leaving…as he’d done so long ago.

       She tightened her grip on the handle of the carafe. How could that one word, that one thought, fill her with both bitterness and longing at the same time?

       “I don’t know,” her mother said.

       Tess started, afraid she had spoken her question aloud.

       But Roselynn stood looking through the doorway. “It appears he and El have settled in for a nice little chat.”

       “Oh, have they?” Tess grabbed the tray. If there was one thing Aunt El was known for, it was believing she knew what was best for everyone—and not hesitating to tell them.

       Tess didn’t want to think about the earful Caleb might be getting. But she certainly wanted to put a stop to it. “Can you bring the napkins, please?”

       “Tess…” Roselynn frowned.

       “What’s wrong, Mom? Headache?”

       “No…nothing. I’ll go get some more napkins from the pantry.”

       In the dining room again, Tess saw her mother had been right.