All Roads Lead to Texas. Linda Warren

and his subsequent divorce, that part of his nature had taken a vacation. He wasn’t sure whether to be happy or not that it was back.

      Looking at Callie’s blond beauty, he had a feeling she could be trouble—to his peace of mind. Something he’d fought very hard to achieve in the past four years.

      “I called Miranda and she’s on the way over,” he told her as he reached her side. “The house is open so you can take a look around.”

      The kids tumbled out of the car.

      “Thank you,” she replied. “I’m sure you’re a very busy man so I can handle it from here.”

      He lifted an eyebrow. “Are you trying to get rid of me?” God, she had the most beautiful eyes and he couldn’t resist teasing her.

      “Of course not. I just don’t want to impose.” He got a frosty reply for his efforts.

      “Since I’m on the Home Free Committee, you’re not imposing. Consider it part of my job.”

      “Okay, then.” She gave in ungraciously and Wade wondered why she was so anxious for him to go. It was probably nothing—just his lawman’s instincts. Callie was in a new town so she had a right to be apprehensive and cautious.

      “It’s gross,” the boy remarked, staring at the house.

      “Is it haunted?” the bigger girl with the cowboy hat asked in an eager voice.

      “I want my mommy,” the smaller girl cried, clutching a doll.

      Callie pulled the child close to her side and he could see that all her defenses were out of love—like his had been for his son.

      “Yes. The house needs work,” Wade said, looking at the kids. They all had blue eyes and blond hair like their mother, except the younger girl’s was a shade lighter. “And what are your names?”

      Callie introduced them.

      “Well, Brit, to my knowledge the house is not haunted.”

      “Oh.” Her face fell in disappointment.

      “But if you see a ghost, you call me and I’ll come arrest him.”

      “Cool.” She smiled, then quickly asked, “Do you have a horse?”

      “Sure do. I live on a ranch with my dad and we have several horses.”

      “Do you let kids ride them?” She tapped her hat. “See, I got a hat.”

      “We better look at the house.” Callie pulled Brit toward the walkway.

      It didn’t escape Wade’s notice that Callie didn’t want him talking to the children. That fueled his instincts further.

      “We forgot Fred,” Mary Beth cried and ran back to the car. Callie followed more slowly.

      Wade was thinking dog. A goldfish was the last thing on his mind.

      Callie carried a fishbowl in both arms.

      Wade frowned. “You brought a goldfish from Chicago?”

      “Yes,” she answered in a clipped tone, almost daring him to ask anything else. She was the prickliest woman he’d ever met. And the most attractive. Not one more word was said about Fred.

      They walked through the spot in the white picket fence where a gate used to be. Much of the fence now lay in the overgrown weeds, as did the gate. The walkway and steps to the house were made of brick. They stood on the veranda.

      Two old rockers set there as if waiting for someone. Callie touched one, shifting the bowl in her arms. “These are beautiful.”

      “They’ve been here as long as I can remember,” he said.

      “I’m surprised someone hasn’t stolen them.”

      “Try picking one up.”

      She handed the bowl to Adam and tried to lift a rocker. She staggered under the weight. “Oh, my goodness.”

      “Solid wood and steel. It would be hard for anyone to carry them away, but Homestead is a place where everybody knows everybody. If someone took them, I’d know in a matter of minutes where to go look. It’s a close-knit town—not much crime here.” He didn’t tell her about some of the mischief the newcomers were experiencing. Little incidents that couldn’t be explained.

      “I’m glad they’re here,” she said, lovingly touching the rockers. “They go with the house.” She had a faraway look in her eyes that Wade didn’t understand, but he decided to let it go for now.

      He pointed to the right. “Don’t walk on that end of the porch. The pillar is rotted at the bottom and the floorboards are weak. And do not even think about going out onto the veranda upstairs.” He looked at the kids. “Do you understand?”

      “Yes, sir,” Adam replied. “We won’t go anywhere our mother tells us not to.”

      Wade took that as a backhanded reply. The boy was as defensive as his mother, and again his instincts told him something was wrong. He’d read through her application and everything checked out, but still…

      He’d keep a close eye on the Austin family.

      CALLIE COULD SENSE the sheriff’s uncertainty, so she had to be very careful and not send up any red flags. How she wished Miranda had been here to meet them.

      Wade opened the door and she noticed the beautiful beveled glass. “Is this the original door?”

      “I believe it is. Frances Haase, the librarian and a member of the Home Free Committee, has all the information on the house. It was built in 1876 by Herman Hellmuth and it stayed in the Hellmuth family until about ten years ago. Agnes Hellmuth, a spinster, died and left it to the city and it’s been sitting here in disrepair ever since. We put it in the Home Free Program hoping it would catch someone’s eye.”

      He smiled a crooked smile and Callie felt her heart do a tap dance. “You found someone,” she replied, and forced herself not to smile. “I love this old house.”

      “Then you’re in for a treat. Some of the furniture is still inside. Miss Hellmuth gave away a lot of pieces to friends in her will, but a few items are still here.”

      As she stepped in, an eerie feeling came over her—the same feeling she’d had looking at the courthouse and touching the old rocker. It was as if she’d been here before…. It was possible she’d come here as a small child, but she didn’t have time to ponder that thought as she took in the house.

      The large entry had hardwood floors, as did the rest of the house. There were parlors to the left and right and a winding staircase curled to the top floors. The wood staircase showed off ornate craftsmanship and the mahogany crown molding around the ceilings reflected the same delicate work and was at least twelve inches wide. The woodwork alone was spectacular. She couldn’t believe that no one wanted this piece of history.

      Decorative inlaid tile made the fireplaces one-of-a-kind. The original brass wall sconces and chandeliers were still hanging. Two bedrooms were downstairs, as was a bath. The rooms contained beautiful beds with headboards that reached almost to the ceiling. Callie ran her hand over the exquisite wallpaper, a delicate pink floral print. It hadn’t faded and she wondered how long it had been in the house.

      “Is this the original wallpaper?” she asked.

      “I suppose. The Hellmuths redid the house in the early fifties, installing plumbing and updating the wiring. I believe Frances said the paper was in such good shape that they kept it.”

      “It’s absolutely beautiful.”

      In the dining room, one wall was decorated with a mural of a summer country scene, with oak trees, a pond, wildflowers and the Texas Hill Country in the distance.

      “Oh, my.” It was so beautiful she could only stare at it.

      “That