A Son for the Cowboy (The Boones of Texas 5)

“It’s nine, Otis,” Poppy said. “And I don’t have any cereal. So we go out or you go hungry.”

“Figures,” Dot murmured. “Way to be prepared.”

Poppy shot her niece a look. “We’ll be more prepared when you help me shop later, Dot.”

Dot’s eyes narrowed and her lips flattened, but she didn’t say anything.

“Who’s ready?” Mitchell asked, standing in the doorway.

“I am,” Rowdy answered. “Starving.”

Poppy followed them outside, reminding herself that she was the grown-up and she needed to keep her temper in check. Dot and Otis’s life had been tough the last year. She knew how difficult it was to see your mom waste away. It took a toll on children, made them harder. But Dot and Otis were lucky, Rose was getting stronger every day. Until their family was reunited, Poppy would continue to be calm and consistent with her niece and nephew—not lose her cool even though she was on edge.

They loaded into her truck, buckled in and drove out the gate of the small ranch she already thought of as home. She listened to Rowdy and Mitchell’s banter as they drove along the winding back roads, admiring the picturesque hills, cedar and stone fences, and lazily grazing cattle. This was beautiful country.

A few homesteads cropped up as they drew closer to town.

Turn-of-the-century homes. Church turrets. A city park with a grand gazebo. Then Main Street led into town square. Stonewall Crossing had a grand courthouse, surrounded by old oak and pecan trees and carved benches. It was charming and, according to the property agent who had found the ranch for her, a tourist treasure. She drove along Main Street until they reached Pop’s Bakery. The town was already bustling, making parking scarce.

“Looks crowded,” Mitchell said. “Good sign.”

She parked, smiling as Rowdy bounced out of the truck and toward the shop. Otis and Dot seemed to perk up, too, following Rowdy without dragging their feet.

The smell of cinnamon, coffee and bacon greeted them. Poppy’s stomach growled.

“Hungry?” Mitchell asked, chuckling.

She nodded. She hadn’t eaten much last night.

“Me, too,” Mitchell said. “There’s a table over there.” He grabbed her hand and tugged her to the table against the far wall.

She went, returning the smiles and nods of the curious residents of Stonewall Crossing. She was curious about them, too. They’d just been seated when a woman approached the table. Tall and blonde, she had bright eyes and an engaging smile.

“Poppy White? Welcome to Stonewall Crossing.” She stuck out her hand. “Renata Boone.”

Poppy felt the blood drain from her face. “Renata Boone?” She shook the woman’s hand. A glance at Rowdy told her he’d missed the exchange.

“You can’t take five steps without running into a Boone in Stonewall Crossing.” An older man joined them. “Carl Stephens, owner of this fine bakery. How you settling in at the old Travis place?”

“Gorgeous country,” Mitchell offered.

Poppy nodded, processing Mr. Stephens’s comments. “There’s some work to be done.”

“Ma’s got big plans,” Rowdy said. “She doesn’t mind work.”

“This is my son, Rowdy. My niece, Dot, nephew, Otis, and Mitchell Lee.” She ruffled Rowdy’s hair.

“I don’t mean to interrupt your breakfast,” Renata said, her attention wandering around the table. “But I’d love to talk to you about participating in the Fourth of July festivities. And rodeo, of course. Maybe even riding in the Grand Entry? It’s a pretty big deal, as you know. Might be a good way to open your shop, if it’s ready by then?” She paused, pulling a card from her pocket. “Anyway, I’d love to visit with you.”

Poppy read the card. Renata Boone, Stonewall Crossing, Director of Tourism. Regardless of who or what she might be to Toben, Poppy needed to make a place for herself here. And Renata Boone would have the connections to make that happen. She smiled at the woman, adding a sincere, “I’d like that, thank you.”

“Taking some kolaches to the guys?” Mr. Stephens asked Renata.

Renata nodded. “Bottomless pits, every single one of them. You know that old saying, the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach? Pretty much true of every Boone I know.” She waved before heading to the counter, collecting her box and leaving the bakery, a little bell ringing as the door closed behind her.

“Take a gander at the menu, I’ll be back to take your order.” Mr. Stephens offered them menus before heading to another table.

Poppy took one, but her focus remained on the pretty blonde woman walking down the cobblestoned sidewalk until she disappeared around the corner. She was a Boone. But where did she fit?