by to get me most Sundays for services. Sometimes it’s just Carlie and their little boy, Jacob, if Carson’s on call.”
He didn’t mention that he knew that pastor, Jake Blair. He also knew things about the man’s past that he wasn’t sharing.
“My whole family was Catholic,” he said. “Well, not Paulie. But then, he always went his own way.”
“The Ruiz family here is Catholic,” she said. “He’s a Texas Ranger. His wife is a nurse. She works in San Antonio, too, so they commute. They’re very nice people.”
“I never met Ruiz, but I heard about him. Ranch the size of a small state, they say.”
Bernie grinned. “Yes. It is rather large, but they aren’t social people, if you get my meaning.”
“Goodness, no,” Miss Pirkle, one of the tenants said with a smile. “Your cousin and his family are like that, too, Mr. Fiore,” she added, her thin face animated as she spoke. “Down-to-earth. Good people.”
“Thanks,” he said.
“We have a lot of moneyed families in Jacobsville and Comanche Wells,” old Mrs. Bartwell interjected with a smile. “Most of them earned their wealth the hard way, especially the Ballengers. They started out with nothing. Now Calhoun is a United States senator and Justin runs their huge feed lot here.”
“That’s a real rags-to-riches story,” Miss Pirkle agreed. “Their sons are nice, too. Imagine, two brothers, three children apiece, and not a girl in the bunch,” she added on a laugh.
“I wouldn’t mind a little girl,” Mikey said, surprising himself. He didn’t dare look at Bernie, who’d inspired the comment. He could almost picture her in a little frilly dress at the age of five or six. She would have been a pretty child. He hadn’t thought about children in a long time, not since his ex-fiancée had noted that she wasn’t marrying some famous criminal. It had broken Mikey’s heart. Women were treacherous.
“Children are sweet,” Bernie said softly as she finished her bacon and eggs. “The Griers come into our office a lot with their daughter, Tris, and their son, Marcus. I love seeing their children.”
“The police chief,” Mikey said, nodding. He chuckled. “Not your average small-town cop.”
“Not at all,” Bernie agreed, tongue-in-cheek.
“That’s true,” Miss Pirkle said. “He was a Texas Ranger!”
Bernie caught Mikey’s eyes and held them. He got the message. Their elderly breakfast companion didn’t know about the chief’s past. Just as well to keep it quiet.
“Are you from here, too?” Mikey asked Miss Pirkle.
“No. I’m from Houston,” she replied, her blue eyes smiling. “I came here with my mother about two years ago, just before I lost her.” She took a breath and forced a smile. “I loved the town so much that I decided I’d just stay. I don’t really have anybody back in Houston now.”
“I’m not from here, either,” Mrs. Bartwell said. “I’m a northern transplant. New York State.”
“Thought I recognized that accent,” Mikey teased.
Mrs. Bartwell chuckled. “I have a great-niece who lives in Chicago with her grandmother. Old money. Very old. They have ancestors who died in the French Revolution.”
“My goodness!” Miss Pirkle exclaimed, all ears.
“My sister and I haven’t spoken in twenty years,” she added. “We had a minor disagreement that led to a terrible fight. My husband died of cancer and we had no children. My great-niece’s mother was from Jacobsville. She was a Jacobs, in fact.”
“Impressive,” Bernie said with a grin. “Was she kin to Big John?”
“Yes, distantly.”
“Big John?” Mikey asked curiously.
“Big John Jacobs,” Bernie replied, because she knew the history by heart. “He was a sharecropper back in Georgia before the Union Army burned down his farm and killed most of his family, thinking they were slave owners. They weren’t. They were poor, like the black family he saved from real slave owners. One of the Union officers was going to have him shot, but the black family got between him and the Army man and made him listen to the truth. They saved his life. He came here just after the Civil War with them. He didn’t even have a proper house, so he and their families lived in one big shack together. He hired on some Comanche men and a good many cowboys from Mexico and started ranching with Texas longhorns. He made people uncomfortable because he wasn’t a racist in a time when many people were. He married an heiress, convinced her father to build a railroad spur to the ranch, near present Jacobsville, so that he could ship his cattle north. Made a fortune at it.”
“What a story,” Mikey