Texas Ranch Justice. Karen Whiddon

Hal said. “After such a long trip. Let’s go into the kitchen and I’ll have my nurse’s aide make you something to eat.”

      Nurse’s aide. She wanted to ask out loud if he was ill, though the question seemed so superfluous since he clearly was. With what, she didn’t know, though maybe he’d tell her.

      Her mother had been much younger than him, so much so that Maggie had written in her diary that the two of them had kept their affair secret. She’d wanted to marry, but Hal had refused, saying it wouldn’t be fair in the future, when he’d become an old man and she remained a young woman still.

      This had only served to break Maggie’s heart. She’d believed their love could easily have survived such a test. Clearly, Hal had felt otherwise.

      Scarlett followed the wheelchair into the kitchen, marveling at how easily he controlled it with his stick-thin arms. This room too had clearly seen better times. The faded linoleum had begun to crack and chip, and the wooden cabinets were scratched and dull.

      She almost shook her head at the other man’s earlier comment. Why would she attempt to take anything from someone who clearly had so little? Her mother had left her wanting for nothing—their little home paid for, along with the proceeds from a nice life insurance policy. She had more than enough to open her own art gallery, a long-term goal of hers.

      The nurse appeared, a stout, dusky-skinned, stern-faced woman with a mop of curly black hair. Seeing Scarlett, she smiled, which totally transformed her face. “A visitor!” she exclaimed, sounding delighted. “It’s been so long since someone came to see Mr. Hal. Have a seat, let me get you a tall glass of sweet tea.”

      Smiling back, Scarlett pulled out a chair. “Thank you, I’d like that.”

      “And something to eat,” Hal put in. “Please, Delilah. She’s come a long way to get here and I’ll bet she’s starving.”

      “Definitely.” Delilah glanced toward the other room. “What about Travis? Will he be joining us?”

      Travis. So that was the other man’s name. Who was he exactly? Did he work for her father or was Travis Hal’s son, her half-brother? She watched Hal carefully, curious to hear his answer.

      “I think he went out to the barn,” Hal finally said. Catching Scarlett’s gaze, he grimaced. “Don’t mind him. He feels he has to look out for everyone, particularly me.”

      “Does he work here?” she asked.

      Hal smiled. “He’s my stepson and, yes, he runs the place.”

      Stepson. So not related. She only nodded.

      “Tell me about yourself,” Hal urged, covering her hand with his. The gnarled and age-spotted fingers made her inexplicably feel like crying. “After all, I have thirty years to catch up on.”

      Delilah placed two plates in front of them. Huge sandwiches, overflowing with chicken and lettuce and tomato, as well as a generous dollop of potato salad, and a pickle. She beamed at Scarlett as she placed tall, sweating glasses of iced tea on the table. “Y’all let me know if you need anything else, okay?”

      “This looks fantastic,” Scarlett said. “Thank you so much.”

      Looking from one to the other, Hal nodded. “Yes, thank you, Delilah.”

      “You’re welcome. Now, Scarlett, how long are you staying? Would you like me to make up one of the guest beds for her, Mr. Hal?”

      “Please,” he rasped, before eyeing Scarlett. “If that’s all right with you? I’d really like you to stay as long as you like.”

      “I’d love that,” she responded softly. “And Delilah, I don’t want to make extra work for you. If you’ll just leave the linens on the dresser, I can make the bed up myself.”

      “As if,” the older woman sniffed. “Not in my lifetime. I’ll get everything ready for you myself.” She bustled off without a backward glance.

      Hal chuckled, but his smile disappeared the instant the nurse was out of sight. Grimacing, he pushed his plate away. “She keeps trying to get me to eat, even though she’s a nurse and should know better. It’s hard for me to eat much these days.”

      Scarlett squeezed his hand. “Please try, for me. You’ve got to keep your strength up so you can get better.”

      Though a slight frown creased his forehead, as if her comment baffled him, he didn’t argue. Instead, he released her fingers and made a show out of lifting up his own sandwich. He took a huge bite, winking at her, and then nearly gagged as he tried to swallow.

      Concerned, she jumped out of her chair and went around to pat him on the back. “Are you all right? Should I call Delilah?”

      “I’m fine,” he rasped, eyes watering as he waved her away. “Just swallowed wrong. Sit down and enjoy your food.”

      Heart still pounding, she sat back down. Still watching Hal closely, she picked up her sandwich, struggling to keep parts of it from falling out. Her stomach rumbled as she took a big bite. Not wanting to appear ravenous, which she was, she chewed slowly, even though she wanted to wolf the entire thing down.

      Some of the tightness in her chest eased as Hal took another, much smaller bite. Maybe this was going to be all right after all.

      It appeared she’d be staying. As she walked out to her car to retrieve her bags, she resisted the urge to do a happy jig. Honestly, she’d been hoping her father would invite her to spend some time getting to know him. There was nothing like the death of the person you believed to be your only parent to make one feel rudderless and alone.

      Grief slammed into her. She missed her mama. Maggie had been fascinating and lively, a bright light in Scarlett’s world. She had also been mercurial, flitting from one thing to another as her interest dictated. But she’d loved Scarlett fiercely, and the two of them had been close. Maggie had supported Scarlett’s interest in the arts, even when another parent might have insisted she get her degree in something practical, like business or education.

      And now Maggie was gone too soon, though she’d fought long and hard. Scarlett had been forced to bury her terror and sorrow, offering her support as she watched her vivacious flame of a mother burn down to a smoldering ember, and finally ashes.

      Learning about her father had pulled Scarlett away from the depths of her grief. Even though she hadn’t realized Hal was sick. From the looks of him, whatever ailed him was serious.

      Dagnab it, she wasn’t sure she had the fortitude to go through this again. Right now, she knew she’d do whatever it took to get Hal well. With or without the taciturn Travis’s support.

       Chapter 2

      After Hal informed him Scarlett would be staying in the main house for as long as she wanted, Travis took himself home. He didn’t say a word to Vivian or Amber about Hal’s visitor. They’d find out about her soon enough and he didn’t feel up to attempting to answer all their questions. Especially since he knew so little himself.

      Scarlett Kistler. Gorgeous, sexy and totally out of her league on a working cattle ranch. Was she really Hal’s daughter? Her eyes were the same shape and color as his, but otherwise Travis saw little resemblance. Regardless, this woman, with her bright green eyes and her false air of sincerity, had come at the worst possible time, right as Hal appeared to be losing his battle with whatever mysterious illness attacked his body.

      To be objective, on the plus side, as Hal neared the end of his journey, Scarlett’s appearance offered him the one thing he’d always craved and never had. Family. Despite the fact that Travis considered Hal his father, and vice versa, Travis would always only be a stepson. He wasn’t blood, wasn’t true kin. Though Hal had never said so to Travis, he’d told Vivian that the lack of a son or daughter of his own was one of his biggest regrets.