When to Call a Cowboy Read online

  There was a certain lemony smell to the church. It was always clean, immaculately so. Everything was polished and ready for the next group or class or sermon to commence. As he strode toward the church offices, he was glad the hallway was carpeted. At least his arrival wouldn’t be announced. Nearing the open doorway, he peeked inside, but the church secretary was not at her desk. He heard voices coming from the pastor’s office. He recognized the sonorous voice belonging to the minister and Dixie’s lighter feminine tone.

  Beau leaned against the wall outside the doorway, not able to hear the words spoken, but he gathered Dixie was making arrangements for Vern’s funeral. In a few minutes, he could tell the voices seemed to be concluding their business and the pastor was walking her to the door. Beau hoped the irate Scott wasn’t in attendance.

  “Thank you so much,” Dixie said. “I’m sure the service will be lovely.”

  “I hope to see you at Sunday services soon, young lady.”

  “I’m afraid we won’t be staying in town. I’ll return to Dallas after the reading of the will.”

  The pastor murmured some comforting words, and Dixie stepped through the door. The big smile on her lips evaporated as soon as her eyes locked on Beau. “You! What are you doing here?”

  He shrugged, all the while prepared to duck if she swung a fist. “This is my church. I show up here every Sunday with my whole family.”

  Dixie’s green eyes narrowed, and she let out a derisive snort. “Not all of your family.”

  Puzzled, he spread his hands. “Yes, unless somebody’s sick, we all show up.”

  Her mouth curved up in a sneering farce of a smile. “Well, isn’t that just like you Garretts. You get to pick and choose who you call ‘family.’” She gave him a glare that would have killed him dead, had it been a weapon, before she sailed past him down the hallway.

  Feeling as though he had been struck again, Beau watched her depart. “Wait! What are you talking about?” He hurried to catch up with her.

  She ignored him. Head held high, she strode through the church, placing both hands on the exit door, but Beau grabbed the big brass handle and held it fast.

  “I mean it, Dixie. What are you talking about?”

  He watched her profile as a series of emotions played out across her face. “You know,” she said in a whisper.

  “No, I don’t know. Please talk to me.”

  Heaving a sigh, she finally met his gaze. “We have nothing left to say to each other, Beau. Nothing at all.” With that she shoved him aside and pushed through the door.

  Beau trailed after her, watching as she opened her car with the remote and swung up into the driver’s seat. In an instant, she had backed out and driven off in the direction of the Moore ranch.

  He could follow her if he wanted, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so since it was pretty clear he was persona non grata to one Miss Dixie Moore.

  Hearing a noise behind him, he turned to see the pastor exiting the church. “Oh, hello, Beauregard. I didn’t know you were here. Did you need to see me about something?”

  “Um, no—yes, sir. When is Vernon Moore’s funeral going to be held?”

  “This coming Tuesday at ten in the morning. The viewing will be the day before from two to six p.m. I hope the Garrett family will come to pay their respects.”

  Beau nodded curtly. “You can count on it, sir.”

  * * *

  Dixie drove toward her childhood home, tears flowing down her cheeks. “How could he? How—how could he?” She hiccupped. “Damn you, Beau Garrett. How dare you act the innocent?”

  Heaving a sigh, she pawed through her handbag with one hand, searching for a tissue. She mopped at her face and gave her nose a hearty blow. “Enough of that. I will not allow Beau Garrett to cause me to shed another single tear.” Straightening her shoulders, she clasped the steering wheel with both hands.

  She had grown up on the Moore family ranch located about ten miles east of town. Her father raised Charolais and Black Angus beef cattle and grew some of the feed for his herd. He had never considered himself a farmer but rather a store owner and a gentleman rancher.

  And someone killed him. An involuntary shiver snaked down her spine. How could someone have murdered her father? She tried to moisten her suddenly dry lips. Now she would never have a chance to confront him…to ask him why…to make things right. She had always thought there would come a time when they would see each other again.

  Dixie slowed the vehicle and turned in at the farm-to-market road leading to the ranch house. Seeing the house brought the ache of tears back to her throat. She swallowed hard, remembering how happy this view had made her as a child. Riding the bus after school, she always felt a little tug of joy at the first sight of her home. Her mother would be inside waiting for her with a hug. There would be a snack spread out on the kitchen table to fortify Dixie for homework. And her mom always asked her about her day, whom she had played with, and what her teacher said. Those early mother–daughter after-school chats had bonded them, making her mom the person Dixie could pour her heart out to. Whenever she had needed her mom, she was always there for her.

  But now, her mom remained in the city, unwilling to attend the funeral of the man she had been married to since she’d been a teenager.

  When her mother had first taken her to Dallas, Dixie had thought it would be a temporary arrangement, but her mother had purchased a condo and settled in.

  At first, Dixie kept expecting to hear from Beau, or at least from her dad, but apparently he had no use for her either.

  Her mother had filed for divorce a few months later, she said because her husband had disowned Dixie. Being abandoned by her father had left a huge void in Dixie’s life. Where was the man who had treated her like a princess when she was young, who had attended her basketball games and track events, who had applauded when the calf she’d raised won a ribbon at the county fair?

  Dixie choked back tears as she pulled into the drive leading to the house. Her father had planted pecan trees along the driveway when Dixie was a child. Now they had grown tall and were covered with clusters of green pecans in shells. Soon they would be ready for harvest, but Dixie was certain she would be back in Dallas by that time. After all, she had her business, and as the sole owner, she had to be present to make sure it was running right.

  She pulled up close to the house and turned off the motor. Who am I kidding? I can run everything online. Her craft store was more of a hobby than an actual business, but she did turn a profit and had regular customers. Promoting it and filling orders via computer took up very little time but provided a healthy payday.

  She got out and slammed the door with a vengeance. Truth was she couldn’t wait to get back home to Dallas where everything she held dear was waiting for her.

  Chapter 2

  The entire Garrett clan turned out for the viewing. Three pickup trucks with the Garrett Ranch logo emblazoned on their sides pulled up in front of the funeral home. Beau drove his dad, Big Jim, while his brothers Tyler and Colton drove up with their families tucked inside. Misty insisted she wasn’t up for the viewing, so she stayed outside with the kids while the adults trooped inside to pay their respects.

  Beau was nervous. He wanted a chance to talk to Dixie again but didn’t relish creating any kind of a scene or being rebuffed in public.

  There was quite a crowd. Vernon Moore had been a good man, and he was well known all around the area, so there was a large turnout.

  Beau trailed behind his family, hoping they would break the ice.

  Vernon Moore’s casket was open in the front of one of the rooms designated for viewings. His lovely redheaded daughter sat by herself in the front row, her back straight as an arrow, and she stared directly ahead.

  Eula Mae Salter, retired elementary school teacher, slipped into the chair beside Dixie. Dixie’s face broke into a smile w
hen she recognized one of her former teachers. Miss Salter embraced her, and Dixie appeared to be shedding a tear. Beau stayed out of sight as all of his family members queued up to offer condolences. Several clusters of locals stood around the room, speaking in low voices. Three ranchers in the corner near where Beau loitered expressed concerns that the heir might close the feed store.

  Beau returned his attention to where Dixie Moore was seated.

  Tyler was introducing his wife, Leah, to Dixie. They chatted for a while, and Dixie seemed to be thawing a bit. Leah was incredibly warm and gracious. If anyone could break down Dixie’s walls, it was she.

  Beau heaved a sigh. It was now or never. He stepped in front of Dixie and extended his hand. “Hey, Dixie. I’m really sorry you lost your dad.”

  She had reached for his hand before she realized who he was and tried to withdraw it immediately, but he leaned down to kiss it softly.

  “Beau,” she breathed. “I—uh—”

  “I just wanted you to know that I’m here for you if you need me.” Beau gave her hand a squeeze but released it.

  Dixie’s eyes flashed fire. “Yeah, like you’ve always been there for me?”

  Beau dropped onto one knee, bringing him down to her eye level. “Dixie, you’re the one who left me. I had no way to contact you. What are you talking about?”

  Dixie glanced around anxiously. “Have a little respect. I’ll thank you to keep your voice down.”

  “Sure, but can we talk?” Beau gazed at her, addressing the pain in her eyes.

  Her lips tightened. “I really don’t have anything to say to you.”

  “Well, Dixie, I have a couple of things to say to you,” he responded. “Please give me a few minutes. We have a lot of history between us.”

  Dixie’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, we certainly do, but history is not going to repeat itself. Just leave me alone, and don’t make a scene.” She glanced around again.

  He grimaced. “Where’s your boyfriend? Why isn’t he here with you?”

  “If it’s any of your business, Scott had to go back to Dallas. His job—”

  Beau stood up. “I really am sorry about your father, Dixie. He was a fine man.”

  “So you say,” Dixie bit out.

  Beau gazed down at her. Now she seemed to be angry with her father as well as with Beau. “I do say, Dixie. And I want you to find some time to talk to me in private. You owe me that much.”

  Her face reddened, and she sucked in a sharp breath.

  He held up both hands in an “I give up” gesture and stepped away from her. That didn’t go well.

  Big Jim was engaged in a low-pitched conversation with the three ranchers gathered in the back corner.

  Beau walked to join his brothers and their wives. “Will one of you take Dad home? I need a chance to talk to Dixie by herself, and I’m willing to wait her out.”

  Colton placed a big paw on Beau’s shoulder. “Yeah, I noticed she looked pretty frosty when you were talking to her just now. What’s all that about?”

  “Beats the hell out of me,” Beau said. “I’m pretty certain that if I have a chance to talk to her all alone, I can figure out what she’s so all-fired mad about.”

  Tyler nodded to where Dixie sat. “She sure does seem to have a bug up her butt about something. Are you sure you want to find out what it is?”

  Colt nodded. “Yeah, you might want to back off.”

  Beau cast a glance to where she sat, ramrod straight. “No, I can’t let it go. Whatever I did to offend her, I want to make it right. I mean, we used to be…” His voice trailed off.

  Ty and Colt exchanged a knowing glance.

  “You do what you think needs doing,” Colt said, giving him a last thump on his shoulder. “Don’t worry about Big Jim. We’ll take Dad home.”

  Beau slipped out and drove around until he saw the crowd had thinned at the funeral home. Dixie’s burgundy SUV was still parked in front, so he tucked his silver extra-cab pickup under the shade of a large elm in the park across the street. About twenty minutes later, he saw Dixie emerge from the funeral home. Her shoulders sagged as though the weight of the world was upon them. The funeral home director walked a few feet behind her and appeared to be speaking to her. She paused and shook his hand before descending the steps and walking to her car. Her head was down, and she pressed the remote to unlock the vehicle.

  Beau’s jaw clenched. He wished he could lift some of that weight off her shoulders. Dixie was obviously affected by her father’s death, even though she seemed to have a huge chunk of anger festering in her gut…anger toward both Vern and Beau, even if he hadn’t a clue what he had done to earn her hostility.

  Dixie sat for a few moments before pulling down the visor to stare at herself in the mirror. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose.

  Good. He was glad to see for sure that she was still human. A few tears shed for her dad were proof positive of that.

  She started the SUV and pulled out, heading for the Moore ranch.

  He followed at a respectful distance, slowing as she turned off the highway. On the way he found himself deep in the past, recalling all the times he had driven this same route. Turning onto the farm-to-market road, he trailed far enough back to remain invisible. When he got to the Moore ranch, he drew to a stop beside her vehicle.

  Dixie lifted her gaze as she stepped from the SUV. He heard her expel a disgusted breath as he approached. “Can’t you just leave me alone?” Even with her eyes reddened, she was beautiful.

  Beau shook his head. “I’ve never been able to leave you alone. You know that.”

  Her mouth twitched. “That’s over and done with.” She moved as though to go into the house, but Beau cut her off.

  He reached for her, wrapping his fingers around her forearm. “Please give me a few minutes. I deserve that much at least.”

  Glancing toward the house, she heaved another sigh. “You deserve a kick in the ass. If my dad hadn’t been killed, I wouldn’t have come back here, and you would never have bothered to get in touch with me. Why should I waste another breath on you?”

  “Dix, I dogged your father for weeks trying to find out where you were, but he kept telling me he didn’t know. He said you and your mom just disappeared.”

  “Don’t insult me by lying. I know better.” She jerked her arm free.

  Puzzled, Beau took a step back. “Dixie, why are you so mad at me? I’ve never done anything to hurt you…nothing that I know of.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “Look, I need to get inside. I have…things to take care of in there.”

  Beau glanced at the door, but Dixie strode to it and turned, barring the entrance with her very presence. “Please, Dixie. We have a history. I’m just trying to tell you that I’m here for you. Whatever you need, please let me know.”

  “If you value our so-called history, just leave me the hell alone.” She turned and opened the door just enough to slip inside.

  The door closed behind her, and Beau heard double locks tumble into place. He stood for a moment, glaring at the barrier before shaking his head. He let out a mild expletive and turned on his heel to walk back to his truck. Just for fun, he slammed the door. It wasn’t nearly as satisfying as he’d thought it would be.

  The fact that the girl he’d loved since grade school just called him a liar and told him to stay away was like pouring vinegar on a fresh cut. He couldn’t believe it still hurt so much.

  Beau had just been a kid when she left. Of course he’d been heartbroken. But he was a man now. Surely he could man up and walk away if that’s what she wanted.

  He started the truck, revving the motor a couple times, but he still felt impotent.

  What had happened to the great love of his life? Why had Dixie left him so suddenly? Why had she completely abandoned him? Why had her father insisted that he didn’t kno
w where she was?

  Beau slipped the truck into gear and pulled slowly away. He headed home, puzzling over the questions battering his brain.

  * * *

  Dixie peered out from behind the drapes to witness Beau’s departure. She had mixed feelings. On one hand, she was relieved that he had gone, but on the other hand, she was dismayed to discover she felt a loss. Why, after all this time, should she feel anything for Beau Garrett? After all, he was the one who had abandoned her.

  She watched the dust settle and then closed the drapes. Turning, she gazed around the quiet living room. Nothing had really changed since she’d left. The piano, where she had practiced after her music lessons, was still in place against the far wall. She swallowed something that felt like a tangle of barbed wire at the back of her throat. It appeared that her father had not removed the sheet music she had last used. That surprised her.

  It had surprised her as well that he had not changed a thing in her room. It was as if he had kept it as a shrine to his daughter. That is, as a shrine to the little girl he had been proud of…not the girl she had become. Not the girl he had betrayed by turning his back on her when she needed him most. Daddy, how could you stop loving me?

  Dixie pressed her lips together, determined not to waste any more tears over something that had happened in her past. She had a future waiting for her back in Dallas.

  I just have to tie up loose ends here and get back to my life. She turned resolutely, wiping away tears with the back of her hand. She made it to the kitchen without breaking down entirely. Slumping onto a chair in the cheerful dining area, she gave vent to all the pent-up emotions that had bombarded her since she had once again collided with Beau Garrett…her lover, her betrayer, her tormentor. Why can’t he just leave me alone?