Reunited with the Rancher (Texas Cattleman's Club: Blackmail 3)

“This week I think we should go ahead with the divorce,” Tom said quietly. “I think each of us will be better off. Reminders like today will always bring the pain back, and I just don’t think we’re equipped to deal with it together.”

“I think we’re dealing with it okay, Tom. Some things will fade as the years go by.”

“We’re better off just starting anew.” He turned to face her. “You said you don’t need me to stay with you in Royal, so I’ve talked to Nathan and he’ll send someone around to check on you.”

“Thank you.”

“Will you be all right there alone?”

“Yes, I will,” she said, smiling, sitting back in the chair and crossing her long legs, which momentarily captured his attention and made him forget everything else.

“I told you I’d deal with the roofers, and I think I can get them out by the first of next week. How’s that?”

“It will be fine. Thank you.”

He gazed at her, thinking she was being very polite, which meant she was keeping a tight rein on her feelings. She was probably upset about meeting the Nashes’ daughter. He turned back to the window. He needed to get through meeting Polly Nash. Get through the divorce. Maybe then he would find some peace in life.

He saw a car approaching and he doubled his hands into fists. Once again, he asked himself why he hadn’t died in place of his son. Emily might not have wanted that, but he did. And why hadn’t he died instead of Jeremy, who was within yards of him when he took the enemy fire? Jeremy had had so much to live for.

Frowning, Tom watched the car approach, wondering about those two situations that he had survived. He had better do something useful with his life to make up for the fact that Ryan’s and Jeremy’s had been cut short.

* * *

Emily followed Tom to the front porch and they stood waiting to greet the family as they stepped out of their gray van. A slender woman with straight hair got out as her husband walked around the car to her. He was in tan slacks and a tan knit shirt. He held the door as his daughter stepped out. Polly Nash was a pretty little girl with brown hair and hazel eyes with thick brown lashes—the same coloring as Ryan. She stood politely with her mother and held a wrapped package in her hands.

“Mr. and Mrs. Knox, we’re so glad to see you again. This is our daughter, Polly,” Becky Nash said by way of greeting.

“Please just call us Tom and Emily,” Emily said.

“And you can call us Becky and Jason,” Polly’s mother replied.

“Come inside,” Tom said and held the door.

When they were all in the formal living room, Emily invited them to take a seat. “Thanks for calling us. Are you vacationing?”

“Yes,” Jason Nash said. “We’re on our way back to Colorado now and thought we’d stop because we were passing so close by.”

“Polly has something for you,” Becky said and nudged her daughter, who smiled shyly and took the present to Emily.

“Thank you, Polly,” Emily said, smiling at the little girl. “How old are you?”

“I’m eight. I’m in the third grade.”

“That’s great. Third grade is a good year. Tom, come open this with me.”

The package was wrapped in light blue paper with a big silver-and-blue ribbon tied in a huge bow. Tom slipped it off the package and Emily carefully undid the pretty wrapping paper. “Did you wrap this, Polly?”

“No, ma’am. Mom did,” she said, glancing at her mother, who was smiling.

When they unwrapped the package, there was another in brown mailing paper and tape addressed to a school. Emily handed it to Tom, who took out his pocketknife and carefully cut into the brown paper. When he was done, he pushed the paper away and held up a framed picture of a schoolroom with a picture of a plaque on the wall. The plaque had a picture of Ryan in one corner.

Looking more closely at the plaque, Emily read aloud. “‘This Jefferson music room is built, furnished and maintained in loving memory of Ryan Knox of Royal, Texas.’”

“We’ve done that in your son’s memory at Polly’s school in Colorado.”

“Thank you so much,” Emily said. “That is touching and kind of you.”

“We want to express our thanks to your son and to you folks in some way that’s permanent. You gave our Polly back to us, gave her a chance at life.”