Texas Manhunt
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Linda Conrad
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19
Chapter 1
Dear God, please not now.
Despite her prayer, the engineâs normal chuga-chug dissolved into a series of terrible, raspy noises. Puffs of black smoke began streaming from under the hood.
Looked like she might not make it after all, and less than a mile short of the town. Shrugging off the inevitable, Summer Wheeler chalked it up to just another obstacle in a life that had turned from pure gold to a handful of dirt.
She fought the wheel and tried to baby her car to the side of the road. Desperate to make the ancient Ford Escort roll just a little bit farther before the engine quit for good, she barely looked up as a pickup truck passed, heading in the opposite direction.
Out of the corner of her eye, she noted that both the cowboy driving and the one riding shotgun turned to stare at her, a stranger in a funny old Ford, as they slowed down to pass her by. The truck didnât stop, but they got a good look as they kept going.
For a second, what she was seeing didnât register. Then it did.
The man riding in the passenger seat was him! That last tip sheâd gotten about finding him in this little town mustâve been correct after all. It was the man sheâd been seeking. She would never in a million years forget that face. It had starred in her nightmares for too long.
Had he recognized her? She threw the car into park and jumped out just as her engine died. Turning to the receding truck, she squinted at its license but couldnât get a good look.
White pickup. Some kind of writing on the side. She hadnât even managed to catch the make of the truck.
He must live here. Or nearby. After all the dead ends and frustration, not to mention spending every last dime of her insurance money, for the first time in five years she had him in her sights.
That settled it. Chance, Texas, would be her temporary new home. At least until she found out where he lived and worked, so she could inform the local authorities.
Evil must meet justice. Her entire life revolved around finishing things where that man was concerned. And she wasnât sure she could stand to go on looking for him much longer.
Turning, she threw a disgusted glance over at her dead car and sighed. The Ford wasnât going any farther. Nothing to do now but walk into town.
She adjusted her small backpack over her shoulder and carefully locked her car to start out hiking. Long shadows loomed across the road, reminding her that a cool nighttime would soon overtake the stifling heat of the south Texas day. Late fall in this part of the country seemed ripe with changing weather.
She hoped the Welcome to Chance sign sheâd just passed was right and the town was close by. She needed to make it there before dusk turned the skies pitch-black and she became stranded in the dark at the side of the road. But sheâd driven for what had seemed like forever without seeing the first sign of civilization. That pickup was one of only two vehicles sheâd seen in the last half hour.
If the town was really that close, where was everyone? She hoped Chance wasnât such a small town that it wouldnât have a gas station where she could take the car for repair.
Not that she could afford to fix her wreck of a car, even if there was a mechanic in the town. The Ford needed a complete overhaul. Badly. But considering she had only twenty-five bucks and change left to her name, doing anything aboutâor toâthe car would have to wait.
Earning money would have to come first. Summer refused to consider the possibility that she wouldnât be able to find some kind of work in Chance, even if the town was tiny and remote. She didnât have a lot of job experience, but she wasnât afraid to get her hands dirty. Over the past few months she had taken jobs as a waitress and a dishwasher and a motel maid. Something would turn up here, too.
She was just lucky her money hadnât run out before now. This time⊠This town⊠Must be the end of her journey. The goal she had dreamed of, worked for, needed to be realized very soon.
But right now her first priority had to be the car and finding a place to stay for the night.
Looking up as shades of black and deep red streaked over the sky, she took a deep breath, and smelled rain. A storm must be on the way. Great. Exactly what she needed.
She picked up her pace. The trees along the side of the road bent their branches against the onslaught of winds, and dust devils suddenly raked at their leaves with angry abandon. Wrapping her arms around her body, she began to shiver.
At the very moment when a few buildings in the distance began to take shape, a cannon roar of thunder broke through the afternoon silence. She started to jog.
As she neared the edge of town, the first object she could make out was a big barnlike structure with a huge sign proclaiming it to be the Feed and Seed store. Across the road from that was what sheâd hoped to find. A shabby single-story structure that looked as if it couldâve been a livery stable at one time, but was now outfitted with a couple of gasoline pumps, a diesel pump and a mechanicâs bay, which currently held the biggest, blackest SUV Summer had ever seen.
No signs appeared anywhere on the building at all. Not above the bay or even on what appeared to be an office. Summer prayed that didnât mean the station was a private concern. On the other hand, she didnât have any money and certainly no choice, so what real difference did it make?
An old man sat on a rickety-looking metal chair beside the front door of the office, an unlit pipe stuck in the corner of his mouth. He called out to someone unseen when he spotted her heading in his direction.
A man, probably in his fifties, came out from behind the SUV. Wiping his hands on his coveralls and studying her carefully through his eyeglasses, he walked in her direction. âWhereâd you pop in from, young lady? Stormâs coming. You lost?â
She didnât want to answer that question with the truthâthat she had been searching for this place for the last five years.
So she said instead, âMy car broke down.â She twisted around and waved in the general direction of where sheâd left the Ford. âBack about a half mile down the road. Good thing I was close.â
âOutta gas? If youâll give me a few minutes to finish up here, Iâll drive you out, with enough gas to bring your car back to the pump.â
She shook her head. âI donât think itâs only out of gas. The engine was making a terrible noise before it died. And I saw some nasty, black smoke coming from under the hood.â
The mechanic frowned but turned to the old man. âDad, take the tow and bring it in for her.â He stopped to glance up at the menacing sky. âMaybe wait a bit and see how bad the storm turns first. What kind of car you got, lady?â
âItâs a Ford. Escort. About fifteen years old.â
The mechanic shook his head, then wiped off his hands on an oily towel and with a wide grin stuck out one giant paw. âNameâs Jimmy Stockard. I own this place. Do all the work on cars around here.â
Hesitating, she took his hand. âIâm Summer Wheeler. Nice to meet you. I hope my car is fixable. It seems pretty far gone.â The handshake went as well as could be expected for a woman who loathed touching strangers, and the actual skin-to-skin moment was blessedly over in a hurry.
âI can fix anything.â Jimmy stashed the rag in his waistband and studied her. âWe donât work on many of the larger ranch vehicles, âcause most the spreads âround these parts have their own mechanicâs shops on-site for that kind of work. But when it comes to trucks or cars, anything that runs on petroleum, Iâm your man. Weâll handle it for you. Come on inside before it starts pouring.â
The first few drops hit her in the face as she and Jimmy made a dash for the office. The old man ambled in right behind them.
Summer turned her keys over to the old man. He refused to look at her directly but mumbled, âMaâam.â
She couldnât help but consider him with skepticism, as he limped to an old tow truck parked right under the garageâs overhang.
âDonât worry,â Jimmy said. âMy dadâs the best tow-truck driver in this part of the state. Your car will be on the lift and on its way to fixed as soon as the stormâs over.â
âUmâŠâ She had better stop him before things went too far. âHow much is this going to cost? IâmâŠahâŠkind of short on funds at the moment. As a matter of fact, Iâm not sure I can even pay for the tow.â
Jimmy grinned again. âYou have family or friends in Chance? Maybe they can help.â
âNo. Iâm afraid I donât know anyone in town.â At least, not anyone who would admit to knowing her.
It was Jimmyâs turn to look skeptical. âWe donât get many people just passing through. Chance is kinda out of the way. Where you headed?â
She was about to answer when another fellow appeared out of the shadows in the far side of the bay. A good-looking man of around thirty, he was dressed in Western garb but didnât seem to be a regular, working cowboy. His boots werenât scuffed, and they looked as if theyâd probably cost him a bundle. And the clothes he woreâdesigner jeans, she thoughtâwere expensively styled and worn low on his hips. In fact, the arrogant way he stood, tall and with an erect bearing, could lead someone to believe he actually owned the place.
Since the new man didnât speak, Summer answered Jimmy. âI wasnât really headed anywhere. Iâve been traveling around the stateâsort of sightseeing. Wanting to learn the lay of the land. Iâm considering moving to Texas permanently, and I guess I took a wrong ranch-to-market road and ended up turned around.â
Jimmy was still smiling. âEasy enough to do, once youâre off the interstate. Everything looks the same in this part of Texas.â
He turned his head then and sent a deferential glance to the stranger. âIâll be with you in a second, Travis. Your SUV is all set. Just needs one last tweak, and youâll be ready to go.â
âNo rush, Jimmy.â
Summer didnât want to seem rude by staring at the stranger, but he was rather flagrantly staring at her. If he could ogle, so could she. She took a moment to study his sharp, green eyes, which were at the moment scrutinizing her from head to toe. His broad shoulders. The proud chin.
He gave off the aura of a man with a strong presence. A man who ruled things with an iron will and few words.
When his eyes met hers and held, her pulse kicked up, pounding blood through her veins and almost leaving her breathless. Crazy. She hadnât noticed a man in that particular way for years. And not even her late husband had made her heart race with a single glance.
But this was not the time, and she didnât have the inclination, to pay attention to how her body reacted to any man. Only one man was on her current agenda. But first she had to find him.
Summer calmed her thudding heart. Was this another of the signs the doctors had warned might trigger a recurrence of her traumas?
Blinking, she told herself she was only having a normal reaction to an overpowering male. No one here was threatening her. And she was clearly not retreating to the fantasy world sheâd occupied for months and months, even while the worst of her real world had spun around her.
Everything here was all too real.
Jimmy cleared his throat to catch her attention, and she dragged her gaze back to him. âLook,â he began. âAs soon as the storm lets up weâll tow you in and give the engine a look-see. We can talk about price and payments then. I know weâll come to some arrangement.â
She nodded, not sure what to say to that.
âBut itâs late,â he went on. âYouâre going to need someplace to stayâat least for tonight.â
âIs there a motel in town?â
The stranger stepped forward and gave Jimmy a nod. âExcuse me, Ms. Wheeler,â he interrupted. âI couldnât help overhearing. Iâm Travis Chance. I run the Bar-C Ranch and have lived in this town all my life. Afraid there arenât any motels.â
He wasnât done talking, but she broke in. âYour last name is Chance? Like the town? Did they name it after you?â
âThe first of my ancestors to settle around here named the ranch and the county, along with the town he built, after himself. Wouldâve named the whole state Chance, too, but he was a little late for that. Yessir, Ezra Chance wasnât a particularly modest man, but then, most Texans of his time wouldâve done the same thing.â
She noted a twinkle in this Chanceâs sober eyes, though his mouth never cracked a smile. Interesting.
âI think youâll find Chance is a fairly friendly place,â Travis went on. âWeâll locate someone to take you in for the night. Are you hungry?â
âUmâŠâ She hadnât thought about food in so long she drew a blank. âI suppose so. Is there a restaurant in Chance?â
Without answering, Travis turned his head to speak to Jimmy. âLend us your pickup, and weâll go over to Macyâs for a bite to eat and have ourselves a little chat. Meanwhile, you finish up with the SUV and tow her car in. After supper Iâll call Reverend and Mrs. Pike. Theyâll surely make room for her.
âWeâll be backâŠâ He continued speaking to Jimmy as he reached for her hand ââŠin about an hour or two to collect the SUV and her things from the Ford. Okay?â
Travis didnât seem too concerned whether or not his arrangements were all right with her and Jimmy. He didnât wait for an answer and just dragged her away. She wasnât crazy about having her hand held by a near-strangerâs, but he didnât give her a chance to complain.
âYouâll like Macyâs food,â he told her as he strode toward an old blue pickup at the side of the bay. âItâs the only eating place in town, but she does a terrific Texas barbecue plate. I think we can beat the worst of the storm there if we hurry.â
As though to agree, her stomach rumbled at the word barbecue. Travis didnât appear to notice. He was intent on shoving her up into the passenger seat of the old pickup.
Well, she was hungry. And if he turned out to be a serial killer, she wouldnât lose too much. She hadnât had anything to lose for a long, long time. If this was the night she was destined to die, Texas barbecue sounded like a great last meal.
* * *
Travis Chance chided himself for once again stepping into someone elseâs business. And another lost soul, at that. Heâd given his word to Aunt June just last Sunday that he would stop picking up strays and giving money to people who would only drink it down or shoot it up. Looked like he would never learn.
But this young woman seemed different. There was something about her that drew him.
Yeah, yeah. She had the sexiest eyes heâd seen in longer than he could remember. Big, wide, and a shade of iridescent-blue he couldnât put a name to.
But that had nothing to do with giving someone a hand and being hospitable. Mostly, he was trying to do a good deedâand he was curious about her.
At about five foot eight, she stood slender and slightly bent, like a sapling against the wind. There was something fragile in the way she held her head. As though at any moment she would be struck down by an invisible hand.
He had to find out more about her. And seeing that she got a good, hot meal in the meantime would set his mind at ease.
They made it to Macyâs CafĂ© just as the heavens opened up. He parked and raced around the pickup to the passenger side, trying to help her down without getting wet. But when he got there, sheâd already climbed out and was moving toward the door at a good pace.
As he slipped inside the cafĂ© right behind her, he came to the conclusion she might have a stronger center than heâd first thought. His curiosity burned brighter.
Macyâs place was nearly empty. A couple of hands appeared to be finishing their suppers at one table, while old Mrs. Murphy sat alone at the counter. All of them turned to look as he found a table and showed Summer to a seat.
âEvening, Travis.â Mrs. Murphy swiveled around on her barstool to give him a bright smile. âNot such a pleasant night, Iâm afraid. You should be home eating one of Rosieâs suppers, instead of out in this storm.â
âYes, maâam.â Travis removed his Stetson and placed it on an empty chair. âExcept Rosieâs off for a few days to San Antonio on a trousseau-buying trip.â
Mrs. Murphy cast a blatant and curious glance at Summer. âI see. What about Jenna?â
The third degree. Wasnât that just typical of half the nosy population of Chance?
âJennaâs been staying in town with her great aunt this week. I intend to pick her up on my way out to the ranch.â
By this point, Mrs. Murphy wasnât paying a bit of attention to his words. Her sole focus centered on Summer. Heaven forbid a new person should come to town without her being introduced.
Shaking his head, Travis gave in and gestured to the young woman at his left. âMrs. Murphy, this is Summer Wheeler. Her car broke down up the road, and Jimmy will be towing it in to check it out when the storm lets up.â
The temptation proved too much for the old lady. She climbed down from the stool and came over to stand next to the table, instead of shouting across the room. He didnât have a choice. Pushing his chair back, he stood.
âHow do you do, young lady?â Mrs. Murphy said as she gazed down at Summer. âDo you have relatives in town? Canât say I recognize the name Wheeler from around Chance.â
Summer, still fiddling with her silverware and napkin, kept her seat and didnât seem inclined to shake hands. But Mrs. Murphy didnât seem interested in shaking, either.
Still holding the fork in her right hand, Summer glanced up at the older woman. âI donât know anyone here, Iâm afraid. I was lost when my car broke down. But Chance seems like a nice place.â She nodded her head toward him. âMr. Chance here was kind enough to offer me a ride to the cafĂ© for dinner.â
Mrs. Murphy beamed down at her. âAh, yes. Thatâs our Travis.â She threw him an indulgent look. âTakes an interest in everyone in town. But, well, I suppose he should. He and his family do own most everything for miles around.â
Travis squirmed in his boots, not sure what to say. Mrs. Murphy opened her mouth as though she had another question for Summer. But luckily, Macy, the owner of the café, barged out of the kitchen right then, her hands full of steaming plates.
âHi, Travis. Be right with you.â Macy set a couple of plates down on the counter. âCome get this food âfore it gets cold, Aunt Betty.â Then without waiting for a reply, Macy spun, heading off in the direction of the other occupied table.
After Mrs. Murphy mumbled something about it being nice to meet Summer and headed back to her seat, Travis let out a breath he hadnât known he was holding, and sat back down. The old ladyâs stool was too far away for her to eavesdrop, if he kept his voice down.
âDo you really own everything for miles around?â Summerâs eyes were wide.
âYeah, the Bar-C encompasses much of the county. But not the town, of course. And thereâre also a couple of smaller ranches nearby that we donât ownâyet.â
âAnd youâve lived here all your life?â
So, she had a few questions, too. âYes, maâam. Born and raised.â
âThen you probably know most of the people who live here. Right?â
Now, that was an odd question. Suddenly he felt as if he was being interrogated.
âMost of them.â His forehead wrinkled up as he tried to think. âThereâre probably a few dozen cowpokes, who work for the Bar-C or one of the other spreads, that I only know by sight. But I suspect I know by name about ninety-five percent of everyone who lives in Chance County.â
She looked intent, as if that was the most important information sheâd ever heard. He was about to ask why she was interested when Macy came to the table with menus.
He set aside his questions for the time being so he could make sure she was well fed. But he made up his mind that Summer Wheeler was not leaving this café until she gave him a few answers of her own.
