Rodeo Reunion Read online

  But the emptiness had begun churning inside him—proof his calling wasn’t over. He needed to preach.

  “Slade, you came.” Star scurried to his side, dragging a blond man behind her.

  “You found me a house, lickety-split. Figured I owed my favorite real estate lady a favor.”

  “Ahem.” The man cleared his throat. “I’m your favorite real estate lady’s husband.”

  “He didn’t mean anything.” Star whacked her husband on the shoulder.

  “No, I didn’t.” Slade held his hands up in surrender. “Honest. If I’d been flirting, I’d have said something like ‘the most beautiful real estate agent in Aubrey.’” Why did other men always think he was flirting when he was simply being complimentary?

  “Wyatt Marshall.” The man offered his hand. “Sorry ’bout that. But when you’re married to the most beautiful real estate agent in the whole world, sometimes you have to stake your claim.”

  “Not if you keep sweet-talking me like that.” Star laughed up at her husband.

  Great. Another bliss-filled couple to remind Slade what he was missing. But Slade remembered Wyatt from the circuit. And the Wyatt he’d known would never have stepped the toe of his boot in church. “I’m Slade Walker.”

  “I know.” Wyatt tore his gaze away from his wife and turned back to Slade. “You pitched for the Texas Rangers.”

  It always came back to that. “For a short time.”

  “So, you moving here?”

  “Sort of a pit stop. I’m on a three-month sabbatical.”

  “I heard you preach a few times on the circuit.” Wyatt shrugged. “Back before I wanted to hear you. It took some stuff in my personal life for God to finally get through to me. But you planted some seeds.”

  “I’m glad.” Slade’s eyes burned and he blinked. Hearing he’d touched a life for Christ in some small way always got to him. And drove home that he still had a calling.

  “You rode broncs on the circuit, too.”

  “Not as well as you rode bulls. Didn’t you end up winning the Championship Bull Riding title?”

  “Twice.” Star linked arms with Wyatt. “Come sit with us. Max is really excited you’re coaching his team. Lacie’s my sister and they’re here somewhere.”

  That was why Lacie had seemed familiar to him the first time he met her on the ball field. A blonde version of Star.

  “I hope we have a good year. The boys play hard.”

  “You looking to do any bronc riding while you’re here?” Wyatt clapped him on the back as they strode deeper into the sanctuary.

  “Maybe.”

  “Come to the Stockyards. Broncs every Saturday night at Cowtown Coliseum. Rodeo starts at eight o’clock.”

  “Will you be there?”

  “Planning on it.”

  “Maybe you could introduce me around.”

  “Sure. Get in with the cowboys by competing and then maybe you can help me do some witnessing. A lot of those guys still don’t want to hear.”

  “Coach Slade.” An excited voice came from behind him.

  Slade chuckled. “Let me guess. Max?”

  “How’d you know it was me?” Max circled around in front of him.

  “Turns out your aunt Star invited me and she told me you were here. How ya doing, champ?”

  “Awesome. I can’t wait for our first game.”

  “Me neither.”

  And he couldn’t wait until Saturday night. It wasn’t a preaching gig. But once he got to know the cowboys, he could at least witness to them. And the best way to get to know the cowboys was to meet them where they were.

  That, Slade could do. God had put him right where he needed to be when he’d followed up Star’s invitation to her church.

  * * *

  The song service was great. The sermon was interesting and powerful. But the pews were just too cushy.

  Slade parked his truck close to Moms on Main. God, help me find a church I can feel comfortable in—or maybe uncomfortable.

  Even though he probably wouldn’t be back next week, he’d accepted Star and Lacie’s invitation to eat at his favorite café. He could almost taste the chicken-fried steak as he strode down the sidewalk.

  “There you are.” Wyatt ushered him in. “The ladies already ordered and are saving us a seat on the other side where the big tables are.”

  The two men got in the long line. Despite the length, it seemed to be moving pretty fast.

  “So, what did you think of church?”

  “It was nice.”

  “Nice? Doesn’t sound like you’ll be back.”

  “Maybe. But it isn’t the church. It’s me. I’m used to dust and manure while I preach. I’m like a man fresh out of prison who can’t sleep on my own comfy mattress anymore.”

  “Hmm.” Wyatt frowned.

  “It’s an analogy.” Slade chuckled. “Don’t worry—the only experience I have with prison is preaching a few prison rodeos and witnessing to some cons.”

  “Sounds like you need a cowboy church where they meet in a barn or a sale barn. Seems like I heard of one starting up somewhere close, but I can’t remember who was telling me about it.”

  “That actually sounds interesting.”

  “I’ll ask around and see what I can find out.”

  “Thanks.”

  They placed their orders and strode to the next room, with all the long tables where he’d heard the church groups sat on Sundays.

  At a long table, Star had two seats saved for them among a dozen faces he’d seen in church this morning. And though she’d introduced him to several, he couldn’t come up with any names. Not a one, other than the pastor and Max. He scanned the next table, hoping to remember somebody.

  Raquel.

  His heart sped.

  With Hunter beside her. And Tori and Brant on her other side.

  Hunter waved at him—giving him the perfect opportunity to go speak with Raquel. If only her glowering brother hadn’t been around.

  “We’re over here.” Wyatt gestured to him. “We don’t mix with their kind.”

  “Don’t listen to him.” Star smacked Wyatt’s shoulder. “We’re all the same denomination—we just go to different church buildings.”

  “Wanna sit with us?” Hunter asked.

  “I’d like to, but Ms. Star already saved me a seat.”

  “Can I sit with them, Mama? I wanna sit with Coach Slade and Max.”

  “I don’t think there’s room.” Raquel didn’t meet his gaze.

  “We can steal your chair and slide you in somewhere. That is, if it’s okay with your mom.”

  Her eyes finally met his and his heart sped even faster.

  “I don’t want to make everyone shuffle around.”

  More than anything, he wanted to swap chairs with Hunter and sit by Raquel. But that would be rude and his grandma had taught him never to be rude. Besides, Brant would glower even harder if he sat with Raquel and probably insist on sitting between them.

  “Please, Mom.”

  “You better be good.” Raquel pointed at Hunter.

  “I will.” Hunter’s chair scuffed against the floor as he wiggled out of his spot at the table and scurried over to Max. And Slade’s excuse to stand by Raquel disappeared.

  “Guess I better get this over there.” He picked up the chair and returned to his table.

  “Coach Slade came to our church this morning,” Max announced as everyone scooted to make room for Hunter. “I got to sit with him and everything.”

  “Maybe you can come to church with us next week.” Hunter plopped into his chair.

  “I just remembered.” Wyatt snapped his fingers. “It was Garrett Steele telling me about the cowboy church.”

  “Garrett Steele—the singer?”

  “Exactly. He’s a hometown boy. Born and raised right here in Aubrey. Somebody was wanting to use one of his barns to start a cowboy church.” Wyatt scanned the next table. “He kind of sticks to himself. You know, the whole celebrity thin
g.”

  “He goes to my church.” Hunter covered his mouth with his hand. “But I wasn’t supposed to tell, so his fans won’t tackle him there.”

  “I won’t tell anybody.” Slade winked at the boy.

  “He’s just a normal person—” Hunter whispered “—and his wife is friends with my aunt Tori.”

  “There you go.” Wyatt gestured to Tori at the next table. “Maybe she could get in touch with him and find out who it was.”

  Or maybe he’d just attend Raquel and Tori’s church next week.

  Quite a productive Sunday. A rodeo opportunity. And another reason to spend time with Raquel. But before he could spend any more time with Raquel, he needed to clear the air.

  “Does Tori work outside the home? I don’t want to bother her during lunch, so I’m wondering when and how to contact her about it.” Now, that was some smooth fishing.

  “She’s a clothing designer and owns Tori’s Threads.” Star dug in her purse and handed him a business card. “I think she’s usually in her office two or three days a week when she and Brant are in town.”

  “Thanks.” He tucked the card in his pocket and chanced a glance at his oblivious sister at the next table.

  Tori needed to know the truth.

  Brant’s glare bore into him.

  They all did.

  * * *

  “I’d like to see Tori McConnell.” Slade swallowed the knot threatening to choke off his words.

  “Could I get your name, please?” The secretary’s tone was all business, her smile placid.

  “Slade Walker.”

  “I’m not sure if Mrs. McConnell is in.” The secretary wrote something on her notepad. “Have a seat and I’ll check.”

  Translation: she’s here, but I’ll check to see if she wants to see you.

  He settled in a cushy nail-head wingback in the waiting area and flipped through the magazines. Fashion, fashion, fashion. No sports or outdoors magazines. He gave up and twiddled his thumbs.

  “Yes, Mr. Slade Walker is here to see Mrs. McConnell. Is she in?” The secretary tapped the end of her ink pen on her desk. “Yes, I see. Of course. I’ll tell him.”

  Slade stood.

  “Mrs. McConnell is very busy. You’ll need to make an appointment.”

  “I only need a few minutes of her time. I’ll just wait and maybe she can squeeze me in.”

  “Mr. Walker, it would be better if you made an appointment.”

  “I’ll wait.” He plopped in the wingback.

  “Excuse me—I’ll be right back.”

  I’m sure you will. “Go ahead. I’m fine.”

  The secretary opened a door to the right of her desk and disappeared. The phone started up and rang incessantly with only a few pauses. Just so his nerves wouldn’t shoot straight out of his body, he grabbed one of the fashion magazines and flipped through it. A picture of Tori caught his attention.

  Tori’s Threads Takes the Fashion World by Texas Tornado. He skimmed the recent article. She’d started her company only last September. Shortly after their dad had died, so she’d probably funded her company with her inheritance. Smart and savvy. The article made it sound as if she was already a roaring success—Tori’s Eaton Up Fashion.

  “You know—”

  Slade looked up.

  Tori stood in the doorway with both hands on her hips. “I’m trying to work here. I don’t have time for whatever game you’re playing.”

  “No games. Trust me. It’s not what you think at all. Just give me five minutes.”

  “Should I call security, Mrs. McConnell?” The secretary’s hand hovered over the phone on her desk.

  Indecisiveness deepened Tori’s frown. She tapped the pointy toe of her high heel. One. Two. Three times.

  “No. But check with me in two minutes, Carol.” She quirked an eyebrow at him. “You coming?”

  Slade stood and followed her through the door. She ushered him to a chair and sat down at a rustic desk with cowhide-lined panels. A Texas flag on the wall, a set of longhorns and a leather couch. Tori was all about Texas.

  “Time’s wasting.” She checked her watch. “You now have ninety seconds.”

  “It’s a long story.” Slade took a deep breath. “But I promise I don’t want anything from you. I just want to get to know you—to have a relationship with you.”

  “Hello? I’m married. Very happily married.” She placed her hand on the phone. “And your time is up. Now. Don’t make me call security.”

  “Not that kind of relationship.”

  She picked up the phone.

  “I’m your brother.”

  Her eyes widened and she set the phone down. “What?”

  “I never knew who my father was until last September. My grandparents got a call from a lawyer who said my father had died and I was in his will.” His words got faster and faster as the story rushed out of him. “I thought it was a joke and tried to ignore him, but he wouldn’t leave me alone. I finally agreed to an appointment and he told me my father was Walter Eaton, better known as Slim Easton.”

  Tori didn’t say anything, but he had her full attention.

  “I promise you, it’s true. The lawyer showed me the paternity test from after I was born. I can give you the lawyer’s number.”

  “What’s the lawyer’s name?”

  “Houston Lancaster.”

  “You know—” Tori clasped her trembling hands “—back when my aunt told me I needed to see Houston after my father’s death, I thought, he’s probably got a dozen kids we don’t even know about.”

  “So you believe me?”

  The phone rang and Tori jumped, then grabbed it. “I’m fine, Carol. Clear my schedule. I need to leave early. Yes. Thank you.”

  “I’m not here for money or anything else.” He put a hand to his heart, striving to convey complete honesty. “I got way too much in his will and to be honest, I didn’t want it. The lawyer had to talk me into it and it’s sitting in my bank account as we speak—untouched except for a recent charitable donation. All I want is a sister.”

  She straightened the papers on her desk. “Let’s get out of here. Somewhere quiet.”

  “My place.”

  “That sounds good. We’ll get Raquel in on this and figure out how to break the news to my husband.”

  “He doesn’t like me.”

  “He’s overprotective.”

  “So you’re just gonna trust me.” Slade splayed his hands palms up. “Enough to go to my house with me? I could be some lunatic who read about your inheritance and came here to kidnap you or Lorraine or both.”

  “But you’re not. Your story makes too much sense to be a lie.” A tiny grin threatened. “Besides, I’ve already been kidnapped once and lived to tell about it. Brant made me take a self-defense class a few months ago and I’m licensed to carry. So maybe you’re the one who should worry.”

  “Maybe.” Slade swallowed hard for effect. The more he saw of her, the more he liked her. Smart, funny and tough. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

  “I need to wrap up a few things first. Give me twenty minutes or so.”

  “Sounds good.”

  While he waited, he’d dig out his paternity test results. Should have brought that to begin with. But he’d been so nervous he’d forgotten.

  He turned toward the door.

  “And, Slade, I’m really looking forward to talking to you.”

  “Me too.” Now that she knew who he was, no one would keep him from getting to know his sister better.

  Not even her husband.

  * * *

  The elevator doors closed and Raquel’s stomach stayed on the ground floor while the rest of her ascended to Tori’s office. Some building. She was so proud of her sister-in-law. A little over a year ago, Tori had been a party girl pregnant by an abusive boyfriend. Now she was a Christian, a great wife to Brant and an awesome mother, and she’d sent the fashion world into a tizzy for Tori’s Threads.

  Lorraine gurgled at her
over Brant’s shoulder as the elevator stopped, the doors slid open and Brant launched down the hall.

  “Lorraine, tell your daddy to slow down so I can keep up.”

  “Sorry, but we miss Mama. Don’t we, Lorraine? We had three months—just the three of us—spending every moment together except for concert time. I can’t get used to her being gone all day.”

  “She loves this.” Raquel scanned the upscale office complex. “And she’s only here three days a week.”

  “I know. And I’m proud of everything she’s accomplished. I’ll get used to it.”

  Tori’s no-nonsense secretary looked up from her desk with a pleasant smile. “Mr. McConnell, how nice to see you.”

  “Thanks, you too. Could you tell Tori we’re here?”

  “I’m sorry, but she left about half an hour ago.”

  “She did? Did she say where she was going?”

  “No, but she asked me to clear her schedule and said she wouldn’t be back in until Wednesday.”

  “Maybe she missed y’all, too.” Raquel shrugged. “And decided to meet us at the restaurant.”

  “Maybe. I’ll give her a call. Thanks, Carol.”

  They headed back toward the elevator, but Brant stopped before they got there. “She’s not answering.”

  “Text her.”

  “Can you? Somebody’s getting wiggly.” Brant blew a zerbert on Lorraine’s arm, sending the baby into a fit of giggles.

  “Sure.” Raquel pushed buttons on her phone. “‘Still on for lunch? We’re at your office.’” She read her message aloud.

  Seconds passed.

  “Nothing?” Brant frowned.

  “Give her a minute.”

  “This isn’t like her.”

  “It’s her first day back. She’s not in the swing of things yet. Maybe she forgot and took a client to lunch or something.”

  “Maybe.” Brant vaulted back to Carol’s desk. “Was Tori alone when she left?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “She didn’t mention meeting anyone?”

  “Just you for lunch, but that was early this morning.”

  “Did she meet with anyone who might have changed her plans?”

  “There was that guy.” Carol’s gaze dropped to her desk.

  “What guy?” Raquel frowned.

  “Let me find his name. I wrote it down.” Carol flipped through the pad on her desk. “He made me nervous.”