Making A Texas Cowboy (Home at Last Texas #1)

Chapter Twenty-Three

“T hanks for this,” Jackson said to the man beside him as they watched the two boys deep in conversation while brushing the tri-colored dog, who stood for the ministering patiently.

“Don’t thank me,” Keller Rafferty said. “Like Lucas said, it was my mother’s idea, and he agreed immediately. He remembers how awful it was for him, and he was over twice Jeremy’s age when his parents were killed.”

Jackson watched Jeremy’s expression, which alternated between brow-furrowed seriousness to smiling delight, when the Aussie-Border collie mix swiped a doggie kiss over his cheek.

On his other side, Nic laughed in almost equal delight. “I’m thinking he needs a dog to take care of.”

Jackson looked at the woman who had driven them over to the Rafferty ranch, saying she hadn’t had a chance to talk to Maggie Rafferty in a while. She was smiling so widely as she watched his son, anyone would have thought Jeremy was hers.

His breath jammed in his throat at his own thought. It felt like a bit of a betrayal of Leah, liking it so much, but how could he not when she looked at his lost little boy that way?

You’re the problem, not her.

“I agree,” Maggie Rafferty said as she came up beside them, carrying a tray holding a half-dozen mugs of hot chocolate. “And it so happens Chance has a prime candidate. You’ll have to come back and meet him, when Chance gets back.”

Nic looked at the older woman with some surprise. “A dog that would work for a little boy?”

Maggie nodded. “This one’s different. It’s a golden retriever he took in from a friend, not because he made the list.”

Jackson had known only what Lucas had said that day they’d first met, that Chance Rafferty was former military himself, but now rehabbed military dogs. It was Nic who had told them, on the way here, that his organization, They Also Serve , took on the dogs the military had given up on. The ones who made the euthanasia list.

“They’d be put down if he didn’t take them. He brings them here and works nothing short of miracles with them. And any who simply can’t be brought back to normal life, who are too traumatized—which for Chance has been exactly two the entire time he’s been doing this—he keeps. They live out their days on the ranch.”

When she’d smiled, it had been one of admiration. And since it was a more than admirable cause, there was no reason for it to make him a little grumpy. After all, he greatly respected Chance, both for his service and for what he was doing now, so it made no sense.

Well, one thing would make it make sense, but he wasn’t going anywhere near the crazy thought that he didn’t like how much she clearly liked the guy.

“What does ‘put down’ mean?” Jeremy asked from the back seat.

Jackson winced, and Nic shot him an apologetic look. “Shouldn’t have said that, sorry.”

He understood. She wasn’t used to having little ears that didn’t miss anything around. And that she felt bad about it only made him like her more.

But Jeremy had asked, and he’d made a vow never to lie to his son, and so he told him the truth.

“They kill them?” The boy sounded horrified, and why not? So was he.

“Because some of them, after being at war, aren’t safe around people. They can’t tell enemy from friend, or everything’s a threat in their mind.”

“But they were only at war for us,” Jeremy protested.

And that’s when, as Nic had slowed the car, she had looked back over her shoulder at Jeremy and said, “And that’s why you and Chance are going to get along great.”

As a diversion, it was perfect. It didn’t deny the brutal truth, but it gave Jeremy something else to look forward to. He wanted to thank her for that, but her attention was back on the road as she made the turn toward the Rafferty ranch, and he didn’t want Jeremy to hear him say it and ask why. So he had done the only thing he could think of. He’d reached out and covered her hand with his and squeezed slightly. She’d given him a startled look, and he’d mouthed, “Thank you.”

He had no words for the feeling the smile he’d gotten then had given him. He’d been relieved when they stopped at the ranch house and Lucas and Keller had been there to welcome them, and he had been able to shove that unfamiliar emotion back into its box.

“—that’s Chance, never let down a brother-in-arms,” Maggie was saying when he tuned back in to the present with a jolt. “So Atlas became Tri, his handler’s widow came to adopt him, and Chance fell in love with her, and she, him.”

She was patiently holding the tray, which now held two last mugs, her own—judging by the painting on the side that was the image of the dog the two boys had brushed to a shine—and one he obviously should have already taken.

“Sorry,” he muttered, picking up the mug. And for lack of anything else to say, he complimented her on her own. “Nice image. Looks just like your dog.”

“Because it is,” she said with a smile. “My son Rylan did it for me a few years ago.”

“He’s the one who does the belts they have in the store in town?” Jackson asked.

“The very one,” she answered proudly.

“Jeremy has one. He found one with a pinto like the pony he’s been riding, and he practically begged for it.” His mouth tightened a little. “He hasn’t asked for anything since his mother was killed. Until we came here.”

“Last Stand is a good place,” Maggie Rafferty said. “It was built by good, brave people, and it draws those same kind even now.” She gave him a rather intent look before adding, “Obviously.”

He felt more complimented than he had when he’d won his first Emmy Award, or when Stonewall had topped the streaming charts for months on end.

“I hear you’re taking on a lot of work over at the Baylors’ place. That’s good. Richard had a heart attack a while back, but he insists on trying to do everything he did before.”

“I didn’t know that,” Jackson said. But he wasn’t surprised Nic’s father hadn’t mentioned it. He wasn’t the type to whine. Nor was the woman before him now. “How did you do it? When... your husband was KIA?”

She shrugged. “It had to be done. My husband loved his boys, so I had to make sure they turned out as he would have wanted. They have.” She glanced at her eldest son, who was sitting at the table with the boys and Nic, sipping at the hot chocolate he hadn’t even tasted yet. “But as much credit goes to Keller as to me. He was only seventeen when Kyle was killed, but he stepped up for me and his brothers. Gave up any other life he wanted to make sure they were seen to.”

Jackson found himself pondering at length the differences between this place and the place he’d left behind. It wasn’t just the topography or the climate, it was the difference in the people that stunned him the most. Not that he hadn’t met good people in L.A., he had, but he’d met far more who either cared nothing about anyone but themselves or made caring gestures only for the positive press it might gain them.

Here, it appeared to be simply the way things were done.

Jeremy was very quiet when they got in the car to head back home. Back to the Baylor ranch, he mentally corrected, although home felt like a much more accurate word for it. He couldn’t quite believe they’d been here nearly a month. It had flown by, and between watching his son emerge from the cocoon of his overwhelming grief and enjoying the work he’d taken on, he couldn’t remember ever being more content. He’d been delighted when they’d given him the plum role of Austin Holt, jubilant when Stonewall had hit so big, and utterly blown away when he’d come home with that first gold statue.

But this quiet, deep contentment was something he’d never known before.

It wasn’t until they were there—Nic had driven them up to the porch—that Jeremy spoke. And then it was to ask Nic if she was going to come in. She looked surprised, so Jackson quickly offered to put on coffee. And Jeremy offered to share his favorite new discovery, the peach crisp from the Kolaches bakery in town.

“Now, how could I resist that, since it’s my favorite too?”

They were seated at the small table, Jeremy tackling his treat with a gusto he also hadn’t seen in a while. The boy had put on some much-needed weight in the month they’d been here too. He loved sleeping up in the loft, and Jackson liked having him there so he could hear clearly when he was downstairs. It had taken a couple of weeks of listening before he dared believe that perhaps Jeremy truly was past the nightmares and crying himself to sleep. He remembered thinking that all the physical work he himself had been doing had produced some solid sleep at night for him, so maybe all the learning and playing with Pie was doing the same for Jeremy.

Jackson glanced over at the fireplace, where he’d thrown on a new log to ramp up the heat; the evening chill was growing fast. He’d never really thought about Texas having cold nights, but for him the predicted mid thirties tonight qualified. The house had a decent heating system, but Jeremy loved the idea of heating it with the fire. “Like the pioneers did,” he’d said.

Yes, his boy had come a long way in a short time. Today had been proof of that.

“Thanks for driving us out there,” Jackson said.

“I was glad to. Haven’t seen Maggie in a while.”

“She’s quite something.”

“She’s a dynamo. They’re one of the founding families, you know.”

“The originals?” he asked, remembering what she’d called them.

“Exactly. The Raffertys were in the middle of the last stand.”

Jeremy’s head came up. “I saw their name in the book Joey showed me. They were there and fought and everything.”

“Right alongside the Highwaters,” Nic agreed with a smile.

“Wow.” The boy went silent for a moment, then, not looking at either of them, he said very quietly, “Lucas’s mom and dad died.”

“I know,” Jackson said, almost as quietly.

“They put him in a home for orphans. He hated it and ran away.”

He hadn’t known that. “How did he end up at the Raffertys?”

“He was hiding there, ’cuz people were looking for him to send him back. But Keller let him stay. An’ now he’s adopting him.”

“Keller Rafferty is a good man,” Jackson said.

Jeremy looked up then. “Lucas said he was as happy as he could be. But that I was lucky to still have you.”

Jackson didn’t know what to say to that. How many sleepless nights had he spent thinking he wasn’t up to this, raising his son alone? How many times had he thought with utter certainty that Jeremy would have been better off if he’d been the one whose vehicle had been broadsided and sent flying by that stolen car?

“You are,” Nic said softly. “You have a father who loves you more than anything.”

And again, Jackson was at a loss for words. Which didn’t really matter because he doubted he could get them out past the lump in his throat, anyway.

Jeremy took another couple of bites, then gave Jackson a sideways look. One he recognized. And the shift in tenor made him able to speak.

“Out with it,” he said, smiling so the boy would know he was teasing him.

“Can we really go back and meet the other dog?”

“I think we can manage that,” he said, and if he’d been undecided, the look of excitement in his son’s eyes would have made the decision for him.

“But you said we couldn’t have a dog back... there.”

Back there. As if Jeremy also was already thinking of this as home, and L.A. as just that other place they’d lived.

“It wasn’t practical there,” he said. “Or fair to the dog, because it would be left alone so much.”

“They’re pack animals,” Nic put in. “And they need to be with their pack.”

“And their people are their pack,” Jackson added.

“So . . . we could have a dog here?”

Jackson leaned back in his chair and grinned at the boy. “I think it’s almost a requirement. Right, Nic?”

“Absolutely,” she said solemnly. “In fact, we’re a little short on canines around here these days.”

Something he should have asked before he’d started this—why did being around her screw up his logic so badly?—hit him. “So are you saying it would be all right, having a dog around? No ‘No Pets’ policy on the rental agreement?”

“Well, since the rental agreement was you and Dad shaking hands, I’d say he’s the one to ask. But I know what the answer will be.”

Jeremy let out a whoop of excitement and turned his attention to gobbling down the last few bites of his dessert and gulping down his milk.

“Homework?” Jackson asked when he was done.

“Yeah. Going now,” Jeremy said without protest, and headed up the ladder to the loft.

Nic watched him go, then turned back. She caught Jackson watching her, but she only smiled, to his relief.

“Mom says he’s doing great,” she said.

“He said she’s different from any other teacher he’s had. In his whole three years of going to school, anyway. He said she makes it interesting.”

“It’s easier when it’s a really smart kid.”

She took another sip of coffee, not complaining that it was plain, ordinary. He tried to think of a woman he’d dealt with back in L.A. who wouldn’t wrinkle her nose at plain, black coffee. Even Leah had preferred at least a fancy sort of creamer in hers. The silence between them began to seem awkward, and he searched for something, anything, to say. Started to speak, but lost the thought when she smiled at him over the rim of the coffee mug.

So here he was, the big star—or at least former big star, he’d blown that to smithereens now—in his new home, with a beautiful woman, a woman who fascinated him, and he couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Or do. Except, looking at her mouth as she smiled, wondering what it would be like to kiss her.

He thought he managed to conceal the jolt of heat that went through him at just the thought. Quashing the urge wasn’t quite as easy. In the end, only one thing enabled him to do it—the realization that as easily as he could hear Jeremy up in the loft from here, Jeremy could hear down.

And he grimaced inwardly at the idea that the only thing keeping his suddenly reawakened libido in check was his seven-year-old son.