Page 10 of Disarming The Rancher

Their mother was suddenly so interested in whatever was in the fridge she started humming. Was it an act? What was she covering up? “This looks good in here. It’s well stocked. I asked your grandfather’s housekeeper to continue to bring food for you and Prudence. You are injured and both of you are caring for my beautiful granddaughter.”

“Did you notice how quickly she just changed the subject?” Brax whispered to Adam.

“I sure did. She acts suspicious every time I bring it up now,” Adam admitted.

“But what? How?” Brax couldn’t fathom her being dishonest. “She’s like the original Girl Scout. She couldn’t possibly be involved in anything illegal, let alone immoral. Maybe you misunderstood.”

“You know what she said to me when she mentioned she had a guy who could alter Angel’s birth certificate?” Adam asked but his question was rhetorical.

Brax shook his head.

“Something along the lines of, ‘parents do what they have to in order to protect their children.’” Adam shot a look before taking a sip of coffee.

“That sort of sounds exactly like her in a strange way.” Brax tried to justify her statement. She was the type of mother who would do literally anything for her children. And yet, she was also one of the most honest people he knew. So, yeah, that statement was a little confusing.

“You’re missing the point, though,” Adam said.

“And that is?”

“Why would she have to make a choice like that?” Adam was spot on.

“Only our mother can answer that question,” Brax stated. There was a niggling feeling at the back of his mind. He wanted to tell Adam that Raleigh was in town, especially as Adam had dragged Brax to Austin to hear her sing more than once over the years.

“How about huevos rancheros?” Mother announced.

“Anything sounds good to me. I don’t usually eat more than toast,” Brax said.

“So, Mom, you never did answer the question,” Adam continued. He was on the trail like a bloodhound following a scent.

Mother almost dropped the skillet. Panic darkened her brown eyes as she fumbled to place it on the countertop. “I hear the baby. I’m just going to run up and see if Prudence needs my help.”

She scattered out of the room faster than a flock of birds following a gunshot.

“See what I mean?” Adam asked. He set his coffee cup down on the oversized wooden table. “There’s no way she could hear the baby from all the way down here.”

Adam, Prudence, and the baby had taken up residence in the east wing of the main house. He was right. There was no baby monitor in the kitchen. Sound wouldn’t travel from the upstairs bedroom to here.

“What does she have to act suspicious about?” Now, Brax was intrigued.

4

Raleigh woke with the sun. She stretched her arms out and sat up. Being in her childhood home, in her old bed, gave her the best night of sleep she’d had in a long time.

A racket outside drew her to the window. She pulled back the curtain to find a gaggle of young people being forced to stay off the property by Hardy.

They’d found her. Was it the tour bus? She’d purposely kept hers low-key. The one with all the lights had her face and name running down both sides, and that was the one fans followed after a concert, thinking she was inside, instead of the nondescript bus parked next to it. The decoy worked.

Of course, she thought, people knew her here. Folks were proud of her and had supported her career. She should have realized they’d know it was her once the tour bus pulled into Nana’s place. These folks knew who she really was.

That meant reporters might soon follow.

Raleigh heaved a sigh. Her stomach growled. A good night of sleep did wonders for her stress levels. But her stomach reminded her that she hadn’t eaten since last night’s cold pizza.

It didn’t take but ten minutes to throw on clothes and freshen up. She ran a brush through her hair. It was still ironed out, and had held its shape. She grabbed a jar of tinted lip gloss, figuring a natural pink would brighten her face, in case someone snapped a shot of her.

The middle of June called for jeans and a summer shirt.

Someone had brought in muffins last night. She grabbed a blueberry one and popped it inside the clean microwave that she’d scrubbed herself. There was a sense of pride that came with the small accomplishment. She rarely had time for anything but concerts, band meetings, and making new music. Other basics had to take a backseat. Basics like cooking and cleaning up her own kitchen. The most she did on tour was heat something in the microwave in a plastic dish, then throw away the disposable container when she was done.