“Not at all,” Brody said. “We should get started soon so you can ride in the cattle drive.”
He was using Cal to bait her. And it was working. If she said no now she’d be the one to lose out—disappointing Cal and crushing his excitement.
“Brody’s going to teach you to ride?” Mrs. Wallace asked. “He’s a good rider, Cal. Every Texas boy should know how to ride.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Cal agreed. “If I’m good enough, maybe my papa will let me ride in the cattle drive.”
“I’m sure he will,” Mrs. Wallace said. “I think I might have one of Brody’s old saddles, too. Might help you sit better.”
India couldn’t help but look at Mrs. Wallace in disbelief. As nice as this was, why was she acting like this? She was a Wallace—Cal was a Boone. If anyone was aware of the feud, Ramona Wallace surely was.
She glanced at Brody then, relieved to see he was just as confused as she was. Once his tawny eyes locked with hers, she tore her attention from him. Her control was in short supply.
“We’ll see,” she said, refusing to be cornered on this.
“I’ll call you later,” Brody said, equally determined.
“Thank you, Brody,” Cal said, pulling free of her hold to run to Brody. He hugged the man, a long, tight hug. “And thank you for taking care of Tanner. You saved him like he saved us.” His little voice broke.
Brody’s arms wrapped around her son so he could hug the boy tight. “You can count on me, Cal.”
Brody Wallace had no right to say things like that to her son. Or to her. Damn him and his promises—promises she knew he’d keep. India felt them again—hot, burning tears—singeing the back of her eyelids. She was not going to cry now. Not when Jan Ramirez was analyzing every single thing that was happening. She waited, holding herself rigid, until Cal was holding her hand and tugging her toward the door of the Soda Shop. And even though she knew Brody was watching her, she didn’t turn back—but she thought about it more than once.
* * *
WHEN INDIA AND Cal left, his mother bundled the girls up and headed home. Though Jan had offered to come back another day, Brody was determined to get this done and over with. He and Jan hit every major historical and tourist spot in the region before heading to his place for iced tea on the front porch.
When the WQAI van drove away from his house later that evening, Brody was ready for some peace and quiet. By then, he knew Jan Ramirez was hunting for something specific—and it had nothing to do with his run for office and everything to do with him and India.
India.
He was worried about her. Watching her come back to the table with tear-stained cheeks had been a punch to the gut. But then Cal had hugged him, and his heart turned over. Her boy clung to him, so full of love to give it damn near choked Brody up. He’d teach that boy to ride, no matter how hard India might fight him.
If India wasn’t so hell-bent on leaving, he could imagine a future full of walks, special walks, hidden smiles and that thrum of excitement only India stirred. He felt more awake, more alive, when she was with him.
But he’d have to be careful. Apparently he was wearing his heart on his sleeve, and people like Jan Ramirez were far too observant not to notice. His interview went well. He’d talked the talk, remained charming and engaging and given her exactly what she’d said she wanted—an inside scoop on him. India wasn’t part of the deal. Before Jan left, he made her swear not to include any footage of India or Cal in her reports. She’d been surprised, but she’d agreed.
“Willie called,” his father said, phone in hand. “Seems the grocery store roof is leaking. Probably from the storm.”
“Bad?” he asked.
“Sounds like it.” His father sighed. “You know Willie.”
Brody grinned. “Still got a few hours of light left. I’ll head into town and check it out.”
“Good.” His father nodded. “Make sure he’s got those wet-floor signs up, too, so no one falls and breaks a hip. Don’t want to get sued.”
“Yes, sir,” he said.
“The girls are down?” his father asked.
“Yep.” He had no idea what his mother had told him, so he said, “It was an eventful day.”
“Amberleigh said ya’ll were looking for a baby dragon?” His father scratched his head. “She does know they’re not real, doesn’t she?”
“She’s a little girl, Dad. It’s not gonna hurt a thing for her to believe in something make-believe,” he countered. “She’ll grow up soon enough.”
“I guess.” His father shook his head. “You were never one for pretending.”