Читать книгу: «Her Texas Hero»

To my husband, whom I adore. You are my heart.

Thank you for your never-ending love and

support, and for showing me that real heroes

can be found beyond the pages of fiction.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Carter Cooper grabbed for the ringing cell phone on the truck seat beside him. A quick glance at the screen listed Nathan Cooper as the caller. Swiping his thumb over the answer button, he brought the phone to his ear.

“Missing me already, big brother?”

Nathan snorted. “Hardly. But I am missing the keys to my truck. You got any idea where they might have gotten to?”

A smile quirked at the corners of Carter’s mouth. “Can you describe them to me? Might help jog my memory some.”

“Carter,” Nathan growled impatiently.

“What’s wrong, Nate? You can dish it out, but you can’t take it?” His brother and business partner in Cooper Construction had thought it funny to line the back of Carter’s safety goggles with black shoe polish. Carter glanced up in the rearview mirror where, beneath the mirrored lenses of his sunglasses, the remainder of what he hadn’t been able to scrub off at the job site remained.

“It was Logan’s idea,” his brother grumbled.

“And you executed it.” Their younger brother, Logan, was the real prankster of the family, but he was good at getting others to join in. Or in this instance, pull off the prank for him. The fact that his little brother had gotten Nathan to play along was worth the thick black smudging he was sporting around his eyes. After losing their parents, along with his older brother’s wife, in the tornado that had ripped through their tiny town of Braxton more than a year ago, Nathan seemed to have lost himself, as well. He knew the only thing that kept his big brother from giving up on life, at least as far as Carter was concerned, was Nathan’s beautiful little daughter, Katie. Or as Carter was fond of calling his six-year-old niece—Katydid.

“All right, guilty as charged,” his brother conceded. “Now where are my truck keys?”

“You know that bucket of wall primer...?” Carter teased as he turned off the main road, intending to take a shortcut into town, where he would swing by the hardware store and pick up something to take the remaining shoe polish off his face.

His brother groaned. “Tell me you didn’t.”

“I didn’t,” Carter said with a chuckle. “They’re...” His words trailed off as his attention was drawn to movement outside the open driver’s side window. Just past the wildly overgrown hedgerow that lined the inside of the faded white property fence, a woman lay facedown atop the sagging porch roof of the old abandoned Harris house. At least, the upper half of her did. The rest of her dangled down over the roof’s edge.

Slowing his truck, he glanced back at the scene he’d just driven by. Crime was virtually nonexistent in Braxton, Texas. And the only thing anyone would find in that old place would be cobwebs and dust balls, so he immediately wrote off the possibility of a robbery. So what was that woman doing up on the old farmhouse’s porch roof?

That last thought had barely surfaced when a high-pitched cry cut through the warm spring air. “Help!”

“Carter?” his brother prompted, his impatience growing.

“In the toolbox,” he blurted out. “Gotta go.” He disconnected the call, then stepped on the brake. Throwing his truck into Reverse, he backed up to the drive that led to the dilapidated old farmhouse that no one had lived in for a good ten years or more.

Sure enough, the woman dangled from the edge of the aging farmhouse’s sagging porch roof. She was definitely in trouble. Carter turned his truck into the dirt-and-gravel drive and drove at breakneck speed up to the house, sending a billowing cloud of dust up into the air behind him.

He was out of the truck in no time, racing toward the wraparound porch where the wooden ladder the woman had been using to climb onto the roof had kicked away and was now resting haphazardly against the thick, sprawling branch of a honey mesquite.

The woman was fortunate, he thought with a concerned frown. If the tree hadn’t taken root so close to the old farmhouse... Well, he wasn’t even going to think about what the outcome might have been. As it was, one flip-flop-covered foot rested at an awkward angle against the top rung of the rickety old ladder. The woman’s other foot, currently shoeless, struggled to find purchase below her with no success.

“Hold on!” he called out to her. And then he did something he hadn’t done since his daddy and poor little Katie had been taken to the hospital after the tornado. He prayed.

Lord, please let me reach this woman in time.

Years of working construction, much of that time spent atop ladders, told him that her legs wouldn’t be able to hold out for long before cramping would set in.

“Mommy!” a tiny voice whimpered.

Carter’s gaze shot up to the second-story window just beyond the woman, noticing for the first time the two little faces peeking out, eyes wide with worry.

“Mommy’s fine, sweetie,” she replied, her words strained. “I’ve got a hold on the rope loop Mason made for me.”

His gaze shifted to the length of what looked to be a half-inch manila rope that spilled out over the open windowsill and ran down the weathered asphalt shingles. At the end of the rope was a large loop, which the woman held in a determinedly white-knuckled grasp.

He stepped up to the fallen ladder, just beneath her dangling form. “Are you injured?”

“No,” she called down. “But I seem to have lost my other flip-flop.”

She could have lost a lot more than that, he thought, his frown deepening. “It’s right here on the ground,” he told her as he eyed the cotton-candy-pink flip-flop lying on the grass in front of a flowering Texas sage shrub. “What are you doing up there anyway?” he called up to her with a frown.

“Retrieving a Frisbee.”

His dark brow shot up. A Frisbee? The woman had risked her neck for a Frisbee? “How about we rescue you instead?”

“I... I’m okay with that.”

His mouth quirked, despite the seriousness of the situation. “I’m gonna reposition this ladder, but I want you to keep your foot braced against it while I do. Then I’m gonna hold the ladder in place so you can climb down.”

“Sounds like a plan,” she said unevenly.

He couldn’t see her face from where he stood, but he didn’t have to see it to know she was more shaken than she was letting on. “Okay, I’m gonna start lifting the ladder back toward the roof.” He raised it slow enough to allow the woman to maintain her foothold, prepared to catch her if her foot slipped and she fell. “Okay, work your other foot over to the ladder,” he told her the moment he had the ladder firmly back in place.

Ever so tentatively, her bare foot felt its way to the top rung. Her long ponytail swung ever so slightly behind her, the afternoon sun bringing out the glints of gold in the honey-brown strands.

“That’s it, darlin’,” he said, his grip firm on the ladder.

Her legs trembled beneath her, making the ladder vibrate. The shudder was subtle, but it told him that her strength was nearly spent. “Steady...” he said, wishing he could go up to get her. But the ladder was old and too unsteady to risk it. No, he had to make this work. In doing so, he offered up another silent prayer for the Lord to deliver her safely to the ground below.

“Now work your way down,” he coaxed calmly.

She started to step down and then stopped. “I can’t. The rope isn’t long enough.”

He glanced up toward the window. “What’s that rope secured to anyway?”

“An old iron bed,” she replied shakily. “At least, the frame. There’s no mattress. It’s the only thing in the room.”

“If that bed frame’s in the same shape as that roof you’re lying on and this ladder I’m holding on to, it’s best we don’t have you holding on to that rope much longer. You’re gonna have to let go of it so you can grab on to the ladder.”

“What if I fall?” she said, sounding on the verge of tears. “I can’t fall. My children need me. I’m all they have.”

He thought of the two frightened faces he saw in the window above. Her children were counting on him to get their momma down safely. A feeling like he’d never known came over him and he knew that God had turned him down her road, one he rarely ever traveled on, for a reason.

“I’m not gonna let you fall,” he assured her.

“And if I do?” she demanded with a muffled sob.

“I’ll catch you,” he answered without hesitation. “Either way, you’re safe with me.”

* * *

You’re safe with me. Audra Marshall replayed those words over and over in her mind as she moved down the old ladder. They were the same words she’d heard before from the man who’d promised to love her forever. A man who’d failed to hold to his vows, leaving her to raise their two young children alone.

“Mommy?” her nearly five-year-old daughter called down worriedly. “Are you going to leave us, too?”

“Mommy’s not going anywhere,” she quickly assured her little girl, having heard the panic in her voice. Then she felt herself being lifted from the ladder into a pair of strong arms. “I’m...” She’d almost said she was safe now, but considering she was being held in the arms of a man she didn’t know, she couldn’t bring herself to say those words. She did, however, say a prayer of thanks to God for watching over her. Not that she’d expected the help she’d prayed for, while clinging frantically to the loop of rope her son had tossed down to her, to show up in the form of a Texas cowboy. Hat and all.

“Why don’t you kids pull that rope back in through the window and untie it? Then bring it on down with you?” the man hollered up toward the roof’s overhang. Then he muttered, “The last thing we need is for one of them to use that rope to climb out onto the roof to see that you’re all right.”

“I’ve raised my children to have more sense than that,” she said stiffly, automatically defensive when it came to even the slightest criticism where her son and daughter were concerned. Her ex-husband had done nothing but that for the past three years.

The man holding her securely in his strong arms paused midstep to look down at her from behind the mirrored shades of his sunglasses, which were shadowed by the brim of his cowboy hat. Then his head tilted ever so slightly upward, and if she had her guess she’d say he’d just rolled his eyes heavenward beneath the concealing lenses of his sunglasses.

“I would hope they do,” he said. “But I did just save their momma from breaking her pretty little neck after she tried to retrieve a plastic disc from a rotted roof using a ladder better used for kindling than climbing on.”

“I didn’t know the roof was rotted,” she replied with a frown. “Just a little sunken.” The ladder, however, she had actually hesitated in using. But after a moment’s indecision, she’d given in, deciding that it looked strong enough to hold her for the short time it would take for her to grab her son’s Frisbee and toss it down. What she hadn’t counted on was having it tip out from under her.

“Maybe so,” he said, “but I’m not about to risk your little ones getting hurt because they don’t know better, either.”

She looked up at him in stunned surprise. Here was a man who didn’t even know her children, yet he was voicing his concern, rather adamantly, about their well-being, when their own father couldn’t care less. She couldn’t keep the tears from filling her eyes.

“Ma’am,” he said, his deep, baritone voice laced with concern. “Are you hurt?”

She fought back the tears, shaking her head. “No, I... I’m fine. Just a little shaken.” And sore. Every muscle in her body felt like she’d just rolled down a steep hillside. “I appreciate your concern for my children. I’ll have a talk with them and make certain they know never to go out onto that roof. Any roof for that matter.”

He nodded. “Glad to hear it. Now let’s get you over to that porch swing,” he said as he headed for the crumbling walkway that led to the old farmhouse’s deep-set porch.

“I can walk,” she protested without much conviction as she clung to her rescuer’s wide shoulders. Despite her stubborn determination to stand on her own two feet, she honestly wasn’t sure she could at that moment. She felt like a rag doll without any stuffing.

“Humor me,” he replied, his long strides never slowing until he had her lowered safely onto the porch swing, which, thankfully, appeared to be sturdier than the ladder she had found in the garage.

“Thank you for coming to my rescue, Mr....”

“Cooper,” he said as he took a step back, putting some distance between them. “Carter Cooper.”

“Audra Marshall,” she replied with a tentative smile as she settled back against the swing, her legs trembling. Her right calf ached from having been perched on the ball of her foot atop the ladder rung for so long. She attempted to stretch the cramping limb, pointing her toes downward. Before she could lift her toes upward to complete the motion, the muscle in her calf knotted up painfully, drawing a soft cry from her lips.

Vivid blue eyes studied her. “Cramp?” Carter Cooper asked worriedly.

“Yes,” she gasped as tears once again filled her eyes.

Kneeling in front of her, he lifted her foot, flip-flop and all, in his large hand and then gently pushed her toes upward, effectively stretching the contracting muscle.

“What are you doing?” Her words came out in a pained whisper.

He looked up at her from beneath the brim of his cowboy hat. “Working the cramp out,” he said matter-of-factly. Then his focus returned to the painfully knotted muscle in her leg. Keeping the pressure steady, he held her foot in place for several seconds before easing up on the tension he’d been applying. Then he repeated the motion once more. “Helping?”

“Yes,” she said, pulling her leg free of his grasp. “It seems I’m indebted to you yet again.”

Looking up at her, he said, “I only did what my momma raised me to do.”

“Please thank your mother for me,” she said with a smile. “She raised a very thoughtful son.”

His mouth pulled into a grimace. Then he straightened to tower over her. “Afraid I can’t do that,” he said. “We lost her two Christmases ago.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that,” she said, her heart going out to him. She’d lost both her parents in a boating accident on Lake Michigan the summer after her high school graduation. Maybe if that hadn’t happened she wouldn’t have rushed into marriage, needing to fill the void her parents’ death had left in her life. No, she probably would have married Bradford anyway. Several years older than her, he’d been a good Christian man with a financially stable job who said all the right things. Sent her flowers. She’d loved him and she thought he’d loved her back. And maybe he had. Until the children were born and he was no longer the sole focus of her attention.

“If your leg starts cramping up again,” her rescuer began, that deep, husky voice pulling her from her troubled musings, “there are a couple of things you can do to try and relieve it. Massage your calf to work the cramp out, or stretch it out like I just did, holding it for a few seconds. Then ease up, repeating the motion until you feel the muscle relax. A warm shower can help as well.”

“Thank you,” she said. “I’ll keep your suggestions in mind.”

He nodded and had just reached up to remove his sunglasses, which were unnecessary now that he was standing beneath the cooling shade of the porch, when the screen door flung open with a loud groan, drawing his attention that way. A second later, her son and daughter flew out of the house.

“Mommy!” four-year-old Lily cried out, racing toward Audra with her tiny arms outstretched, bypassing the towering cowboy without even a moment’s hesitation in her eagerness to reach her.

“Mo—” her son began and then stopped with a gasp halfway across the porch. Green eyes widening, Mason, coiled rope in hand, stood staring up at her rescuer, who was well over six feet in height. A good bit taller than what they were used to, Bradford being only five-nine on a good day.

Sunglasses dangling at his side, Carter Cooper smiled down at her son. “You must be Mason. Nice work with that rope loop.”

“It’s you!” her son said in what sounded like awe, still openly staring up at the man.

“Mason, honey?” she said, attempting to draw her son’s attention away from their unexpected, but very much appreciated, visitor. A man the Lord had sent in answer to her fervent prayers as she’d hung, fearful for her life, from the sagging roof.

Her son’s gaze finally shifted, meeting hers. “Mommy,” he said excitedly, “you were rescued by the Lone Ranger!”

“The Lone Ranger?” Carter Cooper replied with a husky chuckle. “Afraid not, son. The only thing that fictional Texas Ranger and I have in common is that we both wear cowboy hats. Unless you count the fact that I drive a silver Ford F-150 and the Lone Ranger rides a horse named Silver.” He glanced back at Audra with a crooked grin. “My brothers would have a field day with this one.”

“Sweetie, Mr. Cooper is not...” Her words trailed off as her gaze shifted from her son to her rescuer. Her hand flew to her mouth in an attempt to muffle the snort of laughter that shot through her lips as she eyed the smudging of black around his eyes that had previously been covered up by his sunglasses.

“He is the Lone Ranger!” her daughter exclaimed. “He has dark hair and he’s wearing a mask,” she added, pointing to the mask of black encircling his blue eyes.

“Honey, it’s not polite to point,” Audra said, fighting the smile that threatened to spill across her face. “But I think you’re right.”

The man looked from her and Lily to her son in confusion. And then his expression changed. With a groan, he pointed to the dark circles around his eyes and said, “He’s referring to this?”

Audra nodded.

“It’s not polite to point,” her daughter told him, mimicking her mother’s earlier reprimanding words.

“It doesn’t count if you’re pointing your finger at yourself,” Mason told his sister.

“But if he’s not the Lone Ranger, why is he wearing a mask?” her daughter asked in confusion.

Audra had to admit she was wondering that same thing herself. “Can you tell they watch a lot of old Westerns?” she said lightly, trying to cover the fact she felt a little unnerved by the sight of a man who went around with his face painted like a raccoon’s.

“It’s all right,” he assured her with a grin as he slipped the sunglasses back onto his face. “I’m wearing this mask because my brothers thought it would be funny to play a prank on me.”

“Your brothers did that to you?” she said, unable to hide the relief that flooded her voice. Being new to Braxton, Texas, she knew nothing about the people who lived there. She only knew that the tiny town had rated well when it came to crime of any kind. A true safe haven to raise her children in. And it was in Texas, a place she and the children had been drawn to thanks to all those old Westerns they loved to watch together on TV.

He nodded. “Their idea of a joke.”

She fought to keep the grin from her face, not wanting to be impolite at his expense. “How naughty of them.”

“How did they do it?” her son asked with that same uncontainable curiosity most boys his age were filled with. “Did they pin you to the ground and paint your face?”

“Are you going to paint me?” Lily asked her brother, a worried look on her tiny face.

“No,” Audra said. “Your brother is not going to paint you.”

“How they did it isn’t important,” Carter Cooper replied. “They’ve since realized the error of their ways. At least, my older brother has. I haven’t seen my younger brother yet to set him straight.” He looked around and then back at her. “I should get going. I was on my way into town to pick up something to get this off my face when I noticed you hanging from the roof.”

The sooner he was on his way, the better, Audra thought. While she was grateful to the man for coming to her rescue, she didn’t want her children’s fascination with Carter Cooper to grow any more than it was at that moment, with their having thought him to be one of their favorite TV characters come to life. Or even worse, their becoming attached to him in any way whatsoever. She wouldn’t allow that to happen. Couldn’t allow it to happen. Not when her children had already been forced to deal with their father turning his back on them. Whatever it took, she would protect their young hearts from feeling the pain of abandonment ever again.

“I’d offer to help you remove it,” she said, knowing it was the least she could have done after what he’d done for her, “but we only just arrived and almost everything we own is still packed in boxes in my van and in the moving truck that’s on its way. I wanted to check things out and give the children a chance to play outside a bit before we started moving in.”

His dark brow shot up. “You bought this place?”

She nodded. “Through an online auction site.”

He glanced around, his mouth pulling down into a frown.

She completely understood his reaction, having seen the place now for herself. “I have to admit it looked a little more promising in pictures.”

His gaze shifted back to her. “Are you telling me you purchased this house after seeing it only in pictures online?”

She looked down at her daughter, running her fingers through Lily’s tangled golden-brown curls. “Traveling from Illinois to Texas and back just to see a house that was advertised as being in need of some tender loving care seemed like a waste of money that could be used on those repairs instead.”

“Not to be the bearer of bad news,” he said with a frown, “but this place is in need of far more than some tender loving care. If the inside is anything like the outside, you’re looking at a near total gut, if not a complete one.”

A total gut? Surely he was exaggerating. She glanced around with a troubled frown. “I think it looks worse than it is.” At least, she hoped so. She couldn’t afford to totally renovate the whole house inside and out. Not with Bradford still owing her court-ordered child support for the time he was still considered legally their father. At least she had her half of the money from the sale of their house in Chicago, minus the few months’ rent she’d had to pay while looking for a place for her and her children to start their lives again.

“My curtains are made of spiderwebs,” Lily announced, scrunching up her tiny nose.

“And the back door won’t open,” Mason added with a frown.

Embarrassment warmed Audra’s cheeks. “Cobwebs can be swept away and the door just needs a little oil.”

The man cleared his throat. “I doubt oiling the door is gonna fix your problem. Chances are the door is a little swollen from all the rain and humidity we’ve had in the past few weeks.” He glanced around. “As old as this place is and knowing how long it’s been sitting here unattended to, there’s a real good possibility the foundation has shifted and it’s throwing things off.”

The foundation? That sounded more than a little costly. “You sound like you’ve dealt with this problem before,” she said, wondering how he could know these things when he hadn’t even taken a look at her door yet. Maybe this was a common problem in Texas.

“I have,” he replied with a nod. “My brother and I own a construction company. We do a lot of home renovations as well as new builds. I’d be happy to take a look at your door and give you an idea of what you’ll need to do to fix the problem.”

“Maybe Daddy could fix it,” Lily suggested.

Audra cringed at her daughter’s hopeful words.

“We don’t have a daddy anymore,” Mason reminded her in a tone laced with both hurt and anger.

“I forgot,” Lily said woefully. Then, looking up at a sober-faced Carter Cooper, she added, “Our daddy gave us away.”

Before Audra had a chance to respond, her son puffed out his chest and announced, “I’m the man of the house now.”

Guilt weighed heavily on her heart. “My husband and I are divorced,” she said, somehow managing to get the words past the emotion constricting her throat. “He decided fatherhood wasn’t for him and gave up his parental rights.” Her bottom lip quivered as she fought the urge to cry. Maybe it was the long drive to Texas, or even the scare she’d had up on the roof, but her emotions felt incredibly raw at that moment.

She had failed as a wife and now as a mother if one listened to her children’s words. At six years old, her son shouldn’t have to be the “man of the house.” And no child should ever feel like their father simply gave them away. But everything they said was true. Mason was the only male in the house and their father had signed over all rights to his children without even a moment’s hesitation. And she had failed God, because she had spoken vows to love, honor and cherish. None of which she’d been able to bring herself to do at the end of her marriage.

But this was her chance to start over. To give her children the kind of life they deserved. One where they would feel happy and safe, never doubting her love for them. Her gaze shifted to the peeling porch paint and the weathered cracks in the wood framing the porch windows and she knew she had her work cut out for her. But with determination, hard work and a fair amount of prayer, she would turn this dilapidated old house into a true home for herself and her children.