Riding Shotgun Page 5

  She slowed to grab a handful of kernels. Her foot slipped and she went sliding, landing on her butt right in the middle of a mud puddle.

  Finally, she threw the corn as far as she could. The rooster and all the hens followed the food. By now half of the eggs were on the ground, cracked. She was covered in mud. And the crazy wig had slid down so that it practically covered her eyes.

  This couldn’t possibly get any worse.

  She started to get up and slipped again. Muddy water splattered her face and the lens of her glasses.

  And then she heard laughter. Hardy, deep, full-throated laughter. She looked up and into the face of one of the hunkiest, most gorgeous men she’d ever seen.

  She’d been wrong. Things had just gotten a lot worse.

  Chapter Five

  Pierce struggled to squelch his laughter as he hurried over to see if he could help. He wasn’t laughing at the fall, though thankfully she didn’t appear to be hurt.

  It was the image of her sloshing through the mud with a rooster and half the chickens in the pen chasing after her for their corn. It was the eggs tumbling from her basket like jumping beans. And that ugly, lopsided wig.

  As he opened the gate, the laughter escaped again.

  “It wasn’t that funny,” she quipped as he approached her.

  “Sorry, I shouldn’t have laughed, but...”

  Damn, he couldn’t help himself. He tried to swallow the chuckle that didn’t want to let go of him. “Actually, it was pretty funny from my viewpoint,” he admitted.

  “If you videotaped it for YouTube, I’ll kill you.”

  “No pictures, I swear.”

  She was a lot younger than he’d thought from a distance. And the brown hair that had escaped the wig was shiny, nothing like the frizzy black wig.

  “Are you hurt?” he asked.

  “Just my pride.” She wiped the mud from her right hand onto her jeans. Then she changed the basket to her right hand and did the same with her left hand. He thought she might be planning to shake hands with him, but she made no such move.

  Couldn’t blame her. But the show had been hilarious.

  He pulled a clean handkerchief from his back pocket and handed it to her. “This might help.”

  She took off the glasses and stuck them in her pocket, then used his handkerchief to wipe her face, though mostly it just smeared the mud around like black war paint.

  He reached down, pushed her wig back up her forehead.

  “What’s with the wig? Were you going incognito so the rooster wouldn’t recognize you?”

  “How is that any of your business?”

  “Point made.” Probably not a good time to talk about a woman’s appearance when she was splattered with mud.

  Jaci finally joined them. She stuck her hands on her hips and stared up defiantly at the mud-encrusted woman.

  “Why did you steal those chickens’ eggs? That’s not nice.”

  “I didn’t steal them,” the woman protested. “I was just taking them into the house.”

  “They belong to the chickens. That’s stealing.”

  “You’re right and believe me I won’t do it again if I can help it.” The woman started retrieving the few unbroken eggs from the ground.

  “It’s not stealing,” Pierce assured Jaci. “The chickens lay eggs for us to eat. The eggs we buy at the store come from chickens, too.”

  Obviously dissatisfied with the explanation, Jaci tugged on the tail of the woman’s jacket until she stopped gathering the eggs and looked down at her.

  “If you didn’t steal the eggs, why were all the chickens chasing you?”

  “Good question. Ask the chickens.”

  “Chickens can’t talk, can they, Daddy?”

  “Not any language that I can speak.”

  One by one, Pierce stepped on the broken eggs, grinding them under the toe of his boot until the shells were ground like sand and the liquid disappeared into the wet earth.

  “Why are you smashing the eggs?” Jaci asked, already joining him in the task.

  “So the chickens don’t realize they’re good to eat. Then they might eat all the eggs and not leave any for us.”

  “So you’re an expert on chickens as well as women’s wigs,” the woman quipped.

  “I’m a multitalented guy.”

  “No doubt.”

  “Truth is I learned about chickens the same way you just did—the hard way. And in this same pen.”

  He picked up the last two good eggs and placed them in her basket. “I’m Pierce Lawrence and this is my curious daughter, Jaci.”

  “I’m Grace Addison.” Her tone lost some of its sarcastic edge. “Are you a friend of Esther’s?”

  “Practically family.”

  “Really? Then you must be one of the famous Lawrence boys Esther mentioned.”

  “More like the infamous Lawrence boys. And family might be a slight exaggeration, since I haven’t been around in quite a while.” They left the pen and Pierce latched it behind them. “Give me a minute to grab our luggage from the truck and we’ll walk back to the house with you.”

  Grace glanced toward the black double-cab pickup truck he’d bought new in Chicago.

  “Why are you parked way out here if you came to see Esther?”

  “I wanted to test my new truck on a rough ranch road before I tried it on more rugged terrain.”

  He opened the truck and pulled out a child’s backpack.

  Jaci reached for it. “I can carry my own toys. I’m strong,” she said.

  “Good thing. This backpack is really heavy,” Pierce said, playing along. He helped Jaci fit it on her back, then pulled two duffels from the backseat and slung one over each arm.

  “That’s it?” Grace asked.

  “Cowboys travel light. Right, Jaci?”

  “I’m a cowgirl.”

  “How could I forget?”

  They started back to the house. “Esther didn’t mention that she was expecting you,” Grace said.

  “I haven’t talked to Esther or Charlie in months,” Pierce admitted. “Actually, I haven’t been in this area in years. I thought I’d surprise them.”

  “I’m so sorry. You must not have heard.”

  She sounded genuinely upset. “What’s the problem?”

  “Charlie’s dead.”

  “Oh, no. Not Charlie.” The news hit hard, and he struggled to get his mind around it. “When did that happen?”

  “Three months ago.”

  “I hadn’t heard. Neither have my brothers. It’s hard to believe. I mean, he was in great health the last time I saw him. He wasn’t that old.” Pierce was rambling, talking as much to himself as to Grace. “How did he die?”

  “I don’t know.”

  That seemed a bit strange. “How long have you known Esther?”

  “Not long,” Grace said. “She sprained her ankle yesterday. I’m staying with her a few days to help out. I’m sure she won’t trust me gathering eggs again.”

  “Don’t count on that. Esther will just demand you do it until you get it right. She’ll drive you like a team of horses and make you love her for it.”

  “Thanks for the warning.”

  “How’s Esther doing, I mean without Charlie? They were so close—still held hands and had every meal together. She was the only one who could talk him down when he got really riled about something.”

  “What kind of things riled him that much?”

  “Mistreating one of his animals. People lying to him or not doing what they’d promised. Politics.”

  “She seems very lonely without him.”

  “I’m sure. Who’s running the ranch? Esther always had her garden and her chickens, shares with all the neig
hbors, but the livestock was Charlie’s baby.”

  “She’s hired a part-time wrangler, a young neighbor guy named Buck. That’s all I know.”

  For a friend, she didn’t seem to know much about what was going on around there. And she’d definitely never been around chickens before.

  When they reached the house, Pierce was hesitant to climb the back steps and knock. What could he possibly say to Esther that would let her know how sorry he was? He was terrible at that sort of thing.

  He looked around for Jaci. She was kicking through the leaves.

  Grace held back. “I’ll wait for your daughter. You go ahead. It’s your surprise. Door’s not locked and hopefully she’s on the sofa resting that ankle.”

  The surprise had gone sour after learning of Charlie’s death. Esther might not even want to see him after neither he nor his two brothers had stayed in touch close enough to know about Charlie’s death.

  At least one of his brothers would have been there for the funeral if they’d known. Pierce was there now. He’d have to work with that.

  He opened the back door and stepped inside the mudroom. He took off the new Stetson that Riley had encouraged him to buy and slid it onto the hat shelf next to one of Charlie’s summer Stetsons.

  The sense of loss hit him square on. This was not going to be easy.

  “How did the egg gathering go?”

  He stood silently at the sound of Esther’s voice. She was obviously in the kitchen and thought it was Grace who’d come in the back door.

  “Better for the chickens than the gatherer,” he said, stepping into the kitchen.

  Esther stared at him and then started to tremble. “Pierce Lawrence, is that really you?”

  “The one and only.”

  He didn’t bother with words, just did what came naturally. He opened his arms and she stepped inside them. She dissolved into sobs while Pierce blinked back a tear or two of his own.

  “I thought you were out of the country,” she finally muttered between sobs and sniffles.

  “I was. I’m officially discharged and back in the States for good now.”

  “I knew you’d come when you could, Pierce. I know how much you loved Charlie. I know how much he loved you.”

  Jaci stepped into the kitchen alone, only now she was holding the half-empty basket of eggs. She proudly handed them to Esther.

  “This is my daughter, Jaci,” Pierce said. “We’re spending some time getting reacquainted. A road trip to Texas seemed a good way to do that.”

  “I’m glad you brought her along.” Esther placed a wrinkled hand on Jaci’s shoulder. “Glad to meet you, young lady. Your dad is one of my favorite people in all the world, so I know you and I will be good friends.”

  “And, Jaci, this is Esther Kavanaugh, the woman I’ve told you so much about.”

  Jaci stared at Esther quizzically. “Are you my aunt, my cousin or my grandmother?”

  “What would you like me to be?”

  “Well, I only have one grandmother. Joey has two and my friend Penny has three. I need another grandmother.”

  “I’d love to be your honorary grandmother—if it’s all right with your daddy.”

  “Fine by me,” Pierce said.

  “What’s ‘honorary’?” Jaci questioned.

  “It means I’m very lucky to be your grandma Esther.”

  “Do you still have horses?”

  “Ah, you like horses, do you?”

  “Yes. Daddy’s going to teach me to ride.”

  “That’s exciting.”

  “Where are your horses?”

  “A few are probably in the horse barn. Buck has probably let most of them out into their pasture by now, since the rain has cleared out. They like to get outside and play just like little girls do.”

  Grace finally made it into the kitchen sans her muddy boots and jacket but still with streaks of mud on her face and lower arms. The grotesque wig had been plopped back in place.

  Esther gasped. “What happened to you?”

  “I’ll let Pierce fill you in while I get a shower. He got a much bigger kick out of the happenings than I did. Now, what are you doing in the kitchen when you’re supposed to be resting that ankle?”

  “I’ll see that she gets back to the sofa before I regale her with your chicken gathering adventure,” Pierce promised.

  Grace rolled her eyes, but she followed that with a smile.

  Damn. Eyeglasses that dwarfed her face, mud for makeup and baggy jeans. Still, she looked cute when she smiled. There was probably a real hottie hidden in there somewhere.

  Not that it mattered to him. The last thing he needed right now was another woman in his life. Esther and Jaci were going to be challenge enough.

  * * *

  GRACE REJOINED THEM thirty minutes later smelling like flowers and soap. Pierce still didn’t have a handle on exactly who Grace was, only that she was staying with Esther temporarily.

  He didn’t know much more about Charlie’s death. The details Esther furnished had been extremely skimpy. When he’d questioned her for more, she’d just motioned toward Jaci, who had climbed up in Charlie’s old recliner and was engrossed in games on her iPad.

  Esther obviously thought the subject matter unfit for Jaci’s ears. He’d find out more when he got her alone.

  On the other hand, the little she’d told him about Grace troubled him. She’d just happened to be walking on an old logging road to nowhere when she’d heard Esther call for help. She’d rescued Esther and now she’d temporarily moved in.

  What kind of young woman would do that?

  Either one who had a heart of gold or someone who expected to get something out of this. But what was she after?

  Cash?

  Jewelry? As far as he knew, all Esther had was her wedding band.

  A place to hide out from the law?

  Or maybe she was in danger. On the run. Running from the law or from danger would explain the bad wig and unattractive glasses that kept sliding down the bridge of her nose.

  “I know you all have to be hungry by now,” Esther said. “It’s after noon.”

  “I could eat,” Pierce said.

  Esther chuckled. “You could always eat. I took some chicken and dumplings, creamed corn and turnip greens out of the freezer when Grace left to gather eggs. It can all finish defrosting in the warming sauce pans.”

  “Now we’re talking. No one makes chicken and dumplings like you,” Pierce said honestly. “I’d have killed for that in Afghanistan.”

  “If I’d known you were coming, I’d have made a fresh pot instead of feeding you out of the freezer.”

  “I may have to stick around until you make good on that offer.”

  Esther pulled her ankle from the pillow and started to stand.

  “Oh, no, you don’t,” Grace protested. “I’ll warm the food. You take it easy. The healing process can’t be rushed.”

  “See, Pierce, I told you she’s spoiling me rotten.”

  “As you deserve,” Pierce said. That didn’t convince him Grace had no ulterior motive. “I’ll help in the kitchen,” he volunteered, hoping that would give him a chance to feel out the situation.

  Jaci looked up from her game. “I don’t want to eat lunch. You promised I could ride a horse.”

  “And we will ride,” Pierce said. “Right after we eat, as long as that’s okay with Esther.”

  “You know you can just make yourself at home, Pierce. I think I have everything you need in the tack room.”

  “We bought her a helmet on the way here,” Pierce said. “Also boots and a hat.”

  “And some cowgirl clothes,” Jaci added. She did a 360-degree turn so they got the full effect of her new jeans and Western shirt.

&nbs
p; “Nice,” Grace acknowledged.

  “Then I know we have everything else you need,” Esther said, “even a saddle that should be just Jaci’s size.”

  “And you didn’t even know we were coming.”

  “No, but one of our friends from church bought the saddle for when his young grandson visits from California. Charlie taught the boy to ride. Not sure which of them enjoyed that more.”

  “Yeah. I wish I knew half what Charlie knew about horses,” Pierce said.

  “I just wish you could have come while he was still alive. You were always his favorite, you know.”

  Pierce didn’t know or believe that. Charlie had always treated him and his brothers the same.

  “Will this be your first time to ride a horse, Jaci?” Esther asked.

  “I rode a pony one time, but he was hooked to other horses and we just went in a tiny circle. Boring. Daddy is going to let me ride a horse that’s not just for birthday parties.”

  “That’s much more exciting,” Grace agreed.

  “We’re on an adventure ’cause Momma went to Cuba. She wouldn’t let me go.”

  “Really? Cuba?” Esther questioned.

  Pierce motioned to her to let that subject drop for now. “Are you going to ride a horse, too?” Jaci asked Esther.

  “Not today. I used to love to ride, but old bones don’t always like bumping around in a saddle.”

  Jaci ran over and grabbed Grace’s hand. “Then will you go with us? Please.”

  “Maybe I’ll watch,” Grace said, clearly not excited about the prospect.

  Pierce stayed until Esther had filled him in further on which mounts were the most gentle and dependable, and then he joined Grace in the kitchen. She was bent over, rummaging in a lower cabinet for pots. The baggy jeans couldn’t hide the fact that she had a dynamite ass. He looked away before the twinge in his groin became more.

  “You can get Esther her ice pack while I start warming the food,” Grace suggested.

  “I can handle that.”

  Grace emptied the chicken and dumplings into a stew pot. “Will Jaci eat what’s on the menu? Or should I look for some peanut butter and jelly or mac and cheese? I know how picky some kids her age can be.”

  “Hate to say it, but I don’t really know what she eats. I’ve been in the military and out of the country for most of her life. I do know she won’t hesitate to let us know if she doesn’t like it. She is very opinionated.”