Texas Tall - Janet Dailey Page 0,121

waitressing job was almost gone, and she had to have a working car. For now, she’d put the tow and repair on her credit card and hope for the best.

The sheriff made a quick call on his cell phone, then turned back to her. “Silas is busy right now, but he says he can pick up the car in a couple of hours.”

Jess suppressed a sigh. “I suppose I can wait here that long.”

He gave her a scowl. “That’s not a good idea. Get what you need out of the car and leave the keys under the floor mat. I’ll drive you into town. At least we can find you a warm place to wait.”

“Thanks.” Jess retrieved her purse from the front seat and her suitcase from the trunk. All the way from Kansas City, she’d imagined driving into Branding Iron and carrying out her plan—a plan so audacious that, on the way here, she’d almost lost heart and turned back.

Now she was here. But getting around would have to wait until her car was fixed. She’d need a place to stay. But even a small town like this one should have a cheap motel or some sort of rooming house, where she could crash until she found a job and an apartment—or left town, if things didn’t turn out as she’d hoped.

Meanwhile it would be smart to get her hormones under control and stop ogling the hot Texas lawman who’d come to her rescue. The man was off limits—for more reasons than she even wanted to think about—starting with hot and lawman.

He opened the door of his SUV and took her suitcase while she climbed in and fastened her seatbelt. The custom dashboard, complete with a police radio, a GPS, a dash cam, and a computer, was impressive. The last time Jess had ridden in a police vehicle, she’d been handcuffed in the back seat. But those days were long behind her. After a few rough patches, she was starting a new life—and part of that new life, she hoped, was waiting right here in Branding Iron.

The engine purred as he pulled back onto the highway. “I don’t suppose I should worry about anybody stealing my car,” she said.

He chuckled, his dimple deepening. “No I don’t suppose you should.”

“I’m not hearing much on your radio. Is it always this quiet around here?”

“Pretty much. We get an occasional drug bust, a few bar fights, some domestics, and a runaway kid now and again. That’s about it. It’s a pretty easy place to be sheriff—most of the time.” He glanced at her. His eyes reminded her of old-time home-made root beer, just poured, with the bubbles still sparkling. “I don’t believe I caught your name,” he said.

“It’s Jessica. Jessica Ramsey. But everybody calls me Jess.”

“Well, welcome to Branding Iron, Texas, Miss Jess Ramsey. Where do you hail from?”

Here, Jess thought. But was she ready to tell him that? “I drove here from Kansas City,” she said. “I was hoping my old beater would make it all the way, but no such luck.”

“Were you planning a stopover in town, or just passing through when your car decided to take a vacation?”

Jess gazed out the window a moment. They were passing more fields, some dotted with black Angus cattle and framed by barbed-wire fences. Here and there, a windmill towered above the landscape, its vanes turning in the breeze. The clouds in the vast Texas sky were darkening.

“This isn’t just a stopover,” she said. “Branding Iron is where I was headed.”

“Here?” His laugh was incredulous. “Nobody comes to Branding Iron—unless, maybe, they’ve got family here.”

“Maybe that’s what I have.” Given that perfect lead-in, Jess decided to tell him her story—at least the important part. As sheriff, he probably knew the townspeople as well as anybody. Maybe he could help her.

“I was born right here in Branding Iron, at the old clinic,” she said. “My mother put me up for adoption—I don’t know her circumstances, but I’m guessing she was unmarried and in trouble. My adoptive parents were far from perfect. They divorced when I was nine. He disappeared, and she died a few years later. It’s been a long, rough road, but a few months ago I decided it was time for a new start.” Jess took a breath before getting to the bottom line. “The first thing I wanted to do was find my birth mother.”

The sheriff took his time, as if weighing what he’d heard. “That’s quite a story,” he said. “Did you find her?”

“I think so. I haven’t met her, but I’m hoping that’s about to change. The private investigator I hired found my mother’s name and her address. She’s still here in Branding Iron.”

“Have you contacted her?” he asked. “Does she know you’re coming?”

Jess’s hands tightened on her beat-up leather purse. “I was afraid she wouldn’t want to see me. That’s why I decided to just show up and surprise her.”

“Is that wise?”

“Maybe not. But that way, if she slams the door in my face, at least I’ll get a look at her. It’s important. She’s the only real family I’ve got.”

“What if she’s married, with children? Maybe she won’t want them to know about you.”

“I’ve thought of that,” Jess said. “And I wouldn’t want to cause her any trouble. But she’s still using her maiden name. That could mean she’s single or divorced.” She turned toward him, straining against the seatbelt. “I’m only telling you this because you might know her. If you do, maybe you can tell me what her situation is and how to approach her—or even arrange a meeting if you think that would be best.”

Saying nothing, he guided the SUV around a road-killed rabbit. Two ravens feeding on the carcass flapped skyward against the darkening clouds.

He was quiet for what seemed like a long time. Maybe he suspected Jess of being some kind of con artist, out to win the poor woman over and fleece her of her savings. “I can’t promise,” he said. “But I’ll try to do what’s best for both of you. What’s your mother’s name?”

“Francine. Francine McFadden.”

The SUV lurched slightly, crunching gravel on the shoulder of the road before he regained control of the steering wheel. Something about the name had clearly startled him.

“Do you know her?” Jess asked. “You do, don’t you?”

“Yup.”

“Then you must know where she lives. Can you at least drive me by her house?”

“No need for that. I know for a fact she isn’t there.”

“Well, where is she?” Jess demanded. “Is she out of town?”

“Nope.” He shot her a narrow-eyed glance. “Francine is doing time in the county jail.”

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Janet Dailey’s first book was published in 1976. Since then she has written more than 100 novels and become one of the top-selling female authors in the world, with 300 million copies of her books sold in nineteen languages in ninety-eight countries. She is known for her strong, decisive characters, her extraordinary ability to recreate a time and a place, and her unerring courage to confront important, controversial issues in her stories. You can learn more about Janet Dailey and her books at JanetDailey.

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