Page 17 of Will (The Cowboys of Calamity, Texas #3)

Chapter Eleven

Will drove down the long rain-soaked country road about ten miles outside of Calamity.

After that strange call from Honey’s mother, they’d left the apartment at once, not even bothering to turn off all the lights. He glanced over at Honey, who stared straight ahead and drummed her fingers nervously on the armrest of the passenger door.

Halfway through the drive, he’d switched on the radio to fill the uncomfortable silence that had settled between them. Now, Patsy Cline crooned “I Fall to Pieces” as the windshield wipers swayed along to the beat, moving slowly back and forth.

“Your parents are okay,” he assured her, breaking the silence. “If it was a medical emergency, they would have called an ambulance or driven to the hospital themselves.”

“Fingers crossed.”

Will’s mind drifted to the accidents he had experienced on the ranch as a child. “Maybe a pipe burst and is flooding the basement. Or a bunch of cattle got out on the road, and they need help to round them up.”

He cast a glance In her direction. Seeing that she wasn’t comforted by those reassurances, he tried another approach.

“Or maybe they’re in another fight about your middle name.”

The hint of a smile teased her mouth, then disappeared. “Thanks for trying to make me feel better, but there was just something in Mom’s voice…”

He’d heard it, too, and worried about what it might mean. He reached over and grasped her left hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Look, whatever it is, you’re not alone. We can handle this together.”

To avoid over-sympathizing, which would only make her worry more, he started to pull his hand away, but she held on tight. He squeezed her fingers to let her know he wasn’t going anywhere. He’d be there for her.

“Turn right at the next corner,” she said, “and you’ll find the ranch about a quarter mile ahead.”

Two vapor lights on tall poles illuminated the gravel driveway and two-story farmhouse.

Beyond that, he saw the silhouette of a large barn looming in the shadows of early evening. When Will turned into the driveway, the headlights shone on her parents, Brent and Kate, standing on the front porch.

“They look… fine,” Honey said, her voice a mixture of surprise and relief.

Will parked the car, and they both got out and moved toward the sidewalk.

“Maybe it’s Theo,” Honey ventured, worry furrowing her brow. “I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

“Maybe we’ll learn that Theo and Maria eloped today.” His attempt at humor had almost worked on the way over. Maybe this time it would prompt her to crack an actual smile.

She stopped and turned to face him. “Hilarious,” she said, but her tone bordered on reluctant amusement.

He held her gaze, an unexpected feeling stirring within him. “Hey, it could be true. Sometimes you just know when it’s right.”

She paused and seemed to weigh what he’d just said. Since they’d met, they seemed to naturally “get” each other without having to spell everything out.

Will realized he was holding his breath, waiting for her response, but before she could form a reply, the sound of heavy footsteps coming down the wooden porch steps drew their attention back to the house.

Brent Hallgren hurried across the yard toward them.

“Are you two going to stand in the rain all night,” Brent called out, “or come inside?”

The rain had fizzled to a light sprinkle, and Will noticed that Brent’s patience seemed to fizzle, too.

“We’re coming, Dad!”

Her momentary hesitation now past, Honey grabbed Will’s hand and led the way.

* * *

The moment she reached the front porch, her mother pulled her into her arms. Hugging her tightly, her mom said, “Oh, Honey, I’m so glad you’re here. I was so worried.”

“Mom, what’s going on?”

Before her mother could answer, her father held up one hand, his expression grim.

Concerned, Honey looked to Will for an answer, as if he might have somehow divined what was going on.

As for her, she had no idea what to expect. Just as she hadn’t expected her reaction to kissing him a short while ago in what now seemed like a whole other world.

A kiss that would have led to something more if her mother’s phone call hadn’t interrupted them.

Her parents appeared to be okay… at least physically.

That was the main thing, but the look of pained concern on her mother’s face was enough to keep her from fixating on the odd warmth that had spread from her chest to her fingertips when Will had held her in his arms. She wanted to feel that again.

Now was not the time. Focus, Honey!

Even so, in the split second that she waited for her parents’ response to her question, Will’s voice crowded into her head.

Sometimes you just know when it’s right.

Such a simple sentiment for something as complicated as love. At least, for Honey, love had always seemed complicated. Maybe that’s why it had eluded her. Had Will meant those words to describe himself? Or was she living in a fantasy that she wanted to be true.

“Honey?” Her father’s voice drew her back to the present. “Let’s go.”

She joined Will as the four of them headed for the kitchen and mentally chastised herself for having fallen into that short daydream. Maybe her mind had simply needed a reprieve from the anxiety induced by her mother’s phone call and the tense trip to the ranch.

None of that mattered now.

When they reached the kitchen, her mother turned around, nervously rubbing her hands together. “Would anyone like something to drink? Tea? Water?”

She always did that when she was stressed. The hand rubbing and offering of food and drink. If Honey had been slow to notice the full seriousness of the situation before, this made her pay attention now.

“Everybody, take a seat,” her father said, motioning to the kitchen table while he moved to a corner cabinet. “We need whiskey for this conversation.”

A small laugh escaped her mother’s lips, and her tight expression softened as she gazed at her husband. “You always do know the right beverage for every occasion.”

Before long, they were all seated at the table with whiskey in hand.

“Okay, we’ve waited long enough,” Honey said, no longer able to hide her impatience. “What’s going on? You two seem perfectly fine. Is it Theo…?”

“No,” her father said. “This isn’t about Theo.” Honey watched him reach into his shirt pocket and pull out a folded sheet of white paper. “When I sat down at my desk this afternoon,” he began, “I started going through yesterday’s mail. That’s when I found this.”

He held up the piece of paper in one hand.

“Guess what it says?” Dad raised his eyebrows.

“Oh, Brent, just tell them what happened,” her mother said. “I know you’re mad, but…”

“Mad?” He looked at his wife. “How should I feel, how should we both feel when we receive a letter that says someone is going to destroy our daughter?”

“What?” Will grabbed the letter from her father, partially tearing it in his haste. As his gaze fell to the paper, his face paled.

“Let me see.”

Honey reached for the paper, and he hesitated for a split second before handing it to her. She unfolded it for a better look.

A single sentence graced the center of the page. Only seven words. An exact duplicate of the letter Will had received.

Only the names had changed.

Her father turned to Will. “Some maniac is targeting my baby girl. I don’t know who and I don’t know why, but I’m sure this has something to do with you.”

* * *

It was close to midnight by the time Will and Honey finished telling her parents the craziness of the past four days.

From their first meeting at the Crossroads Bar last Thursday evening, which included a trip to the Hallgren family cabin, to finding Ronnie’s journal at the Ninth Street Gym this morning and looking through it for clues about the reason behind his possible disappearance.

To Honey’s surprise, neither of her parents had interrupted their story. Maybe they were hoping for a happy ending, but that letter in the middle of the kitchen table was a stark reminder of why they were all gathered there on a rainy Sunday evening.

Over the past few hours, the four of them had sipped on the whiskey and occasionally paused their conversation to enjoy leftover pulled pork, coleslaw, and pecan pie. Will slowly licked every crumb from his fork with a thoroughness that entranced her.

“So let me get this straight,” her mother said, pouring a thimbleful of whiskey into a glass, then topping it with club soda. “You think Ronnie’s disappearance might be connected to this so-called Destroyer? I thought our nephew just took off to have fun.”

Honey and Will exchanged glances. They hadn’t mentioned finding Ronnie’s possibly blood-stained T-shirt on her windshield, nor that he’d written a note claiming his mom had a secret boyfriend.

She wasn’t sure how much they should reveal about their efforts to find Ronnie.

There would be no benefit to involving her parents more than they already were.

“I hope that is the reason, Mom,” Honey said. “And so far, we don’t have any proof that he’s being held captive somewhere. We’re still going through his journal, too, looking for clues that might lead us to him.”

Her father set down his glass. “How can we help?”

She looked at Will, not sure how much to reveal, but at this point, they could use all the help they could get.

“Actually, the reason I called Mom earlier today was to ask her a question about Aunt Cynthia.”

“Cynthia?” her dad echoed. “What does she have to do with any of this?”

“Probably nothing, but something Ronnie had written made me wonder if Aunt Cynthia is dating someone.”

“I doubt it,” her dad said. “She made it pretty clear after her divorce that she wouldn’t go through anything like that again.”

“Dating doesn’t have to lead to marriage,” her mother said. “Cynthia could be dating someone, although she certainly hasn’t mentioned it to me. And we talk on the phone nearly every day.”

Will cleared his throat. “If she was dating, would she have any reason to keep it a secret?”