Son of Texas. Linda Warren

of a man standing in her parents’ living room introduced himself. He puffed on a cigar and the smoke spiraled around his face. The wind left her lungs and she couldn’t speak.

      “Did you hear me, girlie?” His voice boomed and she had the urge to step back. But she didn’t. Her father had never backed down from him and she wouldn’t, either.

      She swallowed hard. “Yes.”

      “I’m here to take my son’s body home to Silver Spur.”

      “What about my mother’s?”

      His eyes darkened. “Her body will never rest on the Silver Spur. She took him away from his heritage, his family, and I’ll never forgive that.”

      Anger welled in her chest. “She didn’t take him away. You forced him to leave by manipulating his life and not allowing him to marry the woman he loved.”

      “He could have had any woman he wanted,” Boone shouted.

      “He wanted my mother,” she shouted back.

      Boone glared at her through narrowed eyes. “Listen, girlie, I’m not arguing with you.” He pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket. “Sign this and our business is over.”

      “What is it?”

      “Form to release your father’s body to me.”

      She raised her head in defiance. “My father stays buried next to my mother—forever. That’s it.”

      “What’s it going to take. Ten thousand? Twenty thousand? Tell you what—I’ll give you fifty thousand dollars and you sign the paper and we’re done.”

      “Get out,” she screamed. “Get out and take your money with you.”

      “Do you know who you’re talking to, girlie?”

      Her eyes blazed. “Unfortunately, yes.”

      He stuffed the paper in his pocket. “Since you’re Brett’s daughter I was trying to be nice. Figured you could use the money. But Brett’s body is going home to Silver Spur with or without your approval. All I have to do is get a court order and no judge is going to say no to me.”

      “Get out and don’t come back,” she seethed between clenched teeth.

      He inclined his head. “You got guts, girl. I’ll give you that, but it’s always smart to know when to cut your losses.”

      With that the memory dissipated. She opened her eyes, staring out at the long expanse of highway. Her thoughts were inward, troubled. Had Boone removed her father’s body from the cemetery, from her mother, in Corpus to the Silver Spur Ranch? Think. Think. Think. Did Boone separate her parents? She had to know and she struggled to remember what had happened next. But nothing was there.

      “Dammit. Dammit. Tell me.” She gripped her head with both hands.

      “Are you okay?”

      Caleb’s concerned voice reached her. She blinked, realizing she’d been talking out loud. “Sorry. I was having an insane moment trying to remember something.”

      “What?”

      “When my parents died, Boone came to Corpus, wanting to take my father’s body back to the Silver Spur Ranch. He demanded that I sign the papers to release the body. I refused and we had words.” She swallowed. “You see, he wanted my father to be buried at Silver Spur, but not my mother. I told him to leave and never come back.”

      She paused. “I couldn’t bear the thought of separating my parents. They were so much in love, yet at times there was a sadness in my father that neither my mom nor I could assuage. He loved the Silver Spur and he missed it every day of his life, but Boone made it intolerable for him to live there. My mother was a Mexican and not good enough for a Beckett.”

      “Evidently Boone came back.”

      “I guess. That’s what I was trying to recall—if he had my father’s body moved away from my mother. I couldn’t live with that.”

      “Do you know how you came to live in Beckett?”

      Her head felt heavy with all the memories rushing in. “Yes. I was at loose ends after losing my parents. I needed to get away. Boone kept at me about my dad’s body, but I never gave in. Finally he said he’d make a deal with me. He wanted me to come to Silver Spur to see the heritage my father had left behind. If I came and stayed for a while, he’d stop his efforts to move the body. So I went. I wanted to see this place my father talked about all my life.” She took a ragged breath. “Boone didn’t separate my parents, but we were still arguing about it. Boone and I didn’t have the best relationship, and Lorna and Mason seemed to hate me. But I stayed. I’m not sure why.”

      “Did you live on the Silver Spur?”

      “No. I lived in town with a friend of my mom’s, Lencha Peabody. My mother’s mother died when she was five and Lencha helped raise her. Lencha and her family lived next door. Oh.” She rested her head against the seat with a slight smile. “It’s so nice to remember Lencha. She’s Mexican with a bit of Karankawas Indian. She’s known as a healer and sometimes a witch, but to my mom she was like a mother and I grew up hearing stories about Lencha and her colorful personality. Lencha married a white man, as she called him, Henry Peabody, who was twelve years older and worked on the Silver Spur. He died a few years ago and Lencha was glad to have Marie’s child to fuss over and I felt at home with her.” She lifted her head. “I’m sure she was worried about me. I wonder why she never reported me missing.”

      “A lot of this isn’t adding up.”

      She frowned. “Do you think I’m remembering it wrong?”

      “No. I think you just have a lot more to remember.”

      She wrapped her arms around her waist. “The unknown is so scary.”

      “But it’s what we’ve been waiting for—to identify the unknown. Then it won’t be so scary.”

      She looked at him. “I’m so glad you’re with me.”

      His eyes met hers. “You can count on that.”

      “You’re so nice, Caleb McCain, and I’m sure a Texas Ranger isn’t supposed to spend this much time on one case.”

      “We don’t stop until the bad guys are caught and in jail and soon the person who shot you will be in jail.”

      “Oh. This is Beckett,” she said, glancing back at the city limit sign. “Barely fourteen hundred people live here.”

      Caleb turned toward the business area. The town was small, with one main street where all the businesses were located. There were no fancy retail stores, just old-fashioned storefronts that had been there for years. It was like a scene from the 1950s with parking in front of stores and parking meters. A blacksmith shop, feed store and beer joint had weatherworn boards that had stood the test of time. The only new building was the post office.

      “Until I can do some checking it’s probably not wise to let people know you’re alive.”

      “I agree. We can go to Lencha’s. I trust her.”

      “Which direction?”

      “Turn left then take Tumbleweed. Lencha’s is about a mile on the right.”

      Caleb followed her directions to a small white frame house with a chain-link fence around it.

      “Go around back to the garage,” Belle instructed.

      Caleb stopped in front of the double garage that had a small truck parked inside. Belle gasped.

      “What is it?” Caleb asked.

      She pointed to the garage. “That’s my parking spot and my car’s not there.”

      Caleb looked at her pale face.

      “Evidently