I met her at one of the Elvis get-togethers some ladies have in town. We found we had a lot to talk about. Bertie and Edgar were devastated when Ava married Ezra. They eloped and they both were of age so there was nothing Bertie or Edgar could do but watch their daughter be brutalized by that horrible man. Time after time Bertie reported Ezra to the sheriff, but Ava would never testify against him.”
Paxton listened, and even though it was something he didn’t know, what caught his attention were the Elvis get-togethers. “You go to Elvis parties?”
His mother lifted an eyebrow. “Yes, with the sheriff’s mother, Mrs. Peabody and several other ladies. We have a good time. We play poker, listen to music, eat, drink a few beers and talk about the latest gossip in Horseshoe.”
“You drink beer?” All his life he’d never seen his mother drink any type of liquor, especially after what had happened to their father. She was against drinking, but she never told any of her sons to stop. They were grown men and she mostly tried to stay out of their lives.
“Is that against the law?”
“No. I’m just surprised.”
“You know, son, I’m entitled to get out every once in a while. I enjoy spending time with women with similar interests. We’re talking about visiting Graceland in the summer and I’m thinking of going. We need a driver, though. Are you available?” There was a smile in her voice, and he knew she was teasing him.
He shifted uncomfortably, not wanting to say no, but he would rather have his teeth pulled than drive several old ladies to Graceland. Being a dutiful son, he replied, “If you need me to.”
His mother laughed, and he realized he hadn’t heard her laugh in a long time. She spent all of her time worrying about the ranch and her sons. If she wanted to drink beer and visit Graceland, who was he to judge?
“Don’t worry, son. I’m the youngest in the group and I can drive us.”
“Are you sure?” He’d try to work it into his schedule if his mother needed him.
“I’ve hauled cattle all over this country and I think I can get us to Graceland.”
“Okay.” He stood and pulled five dollars out of his pocket and laid it on the desk. “From Miss Bertie for gas.”
“I forgot to tell you about that. I’m so glad you didn’t refuse it.”
“Mom, the woman was standing there with a shotgun in her hand. I wasn’t going to refuse too much.”
“I’m proud of you, son. You’re turning into a nice young man. I’m glad you put all that Lisa business behind you.”
Lisa? He still hadn’t called her, and that was the old Pax, avoiding a confrontation. To be the man he wanted to be, he had to call her and break it off—for good.
He turned to leave the room, but something in him needed to know. “What happened to Miss Bertie’s granddaughter? She looks ill.”
“I believe she was in a motorcycle accident.”
“Motorcycle? I don’t see her as a motorcycle chick.”
His mother lifted an eyebrow again, which all of her sons knew well. It meant she was either disappointed in what they’d done or what they’d said.
He tried hard not to fidget. “You know what I mean. Piercings, tattoos and leather. This girl is very slight and I can’t see her riding a motorcycle.”
“It was the boyfriend’s, I believe.” His mother studied his face and he wanted to squirm again. “Why are you so interested in Remington?”
“I’m not.” That was the truth. He was just...curious.
“We just went through this with Phoenix and Rosemary’s relationship. Even though I have accepted Rosie, I wouldn’t like to see another of my sons getting involved with a McCray.”
“Whoa.” He held up a hand. “There’s nothing like that going on. She’s not my type. When she found out I was a Rebel, it was like opening a freezer. Rest assured there’s nothing going on. I was just asking.”
“Are you sure?”
“Mom.”
She got up and walked around her desk to stand in front of him. She lightly touched his face. “I don’t think you realize just how handsome you are. This girl is very vulnerable right now and I wouldn’t like to see you hurt her in any way. Not that you would intentionally because I know you, and you have a big heart when it counts.”
He couldn’t believe he was having this conversation with his mother. Avoiding a deep emotional conversation was his top priority when talking to his mother. He didn’t know what else to say, except the truth.
“Okay. I promise I won’t hurt her. I don’t see how that can happen since I’ve only had one conversation with her. And believe me, I’ll never forget that she’s Ezra McCray’s daughter.”
For the next couple of days Paxton helped on the ranch and worked on his rodeo schedule. He and his friends had ridden in a rodeo in Louisiana and at the Fort Worth Livestock Show and Rodeo. It was now February and he decided not to ride in as many rodeos as he had before. He was getting older and it had taken a toll on his body, so he would ride the big rodeos for the money and for a chance to make it to Las Vegas.
After a hard day of working cattle, he showered and sat on the sofa still going over his schedule. He lived with Jericho in the bunkhouse and they got along well. Jericho never caused trouble and was a good friend to the Rebels.
His brother Egan had met him in prison when Egan had been unjustly accused of a crime. He saved Egan’s life and they’d become fast friends. For saving her son’s life, their mother had offered him a job on the ranch and he had gladly taken it. He’d grown up on the streets in Houston and had been involved with gangs. But today he was a changed man and the Rebels trusted him completely.
They took turns doing chores around the house. Tonight Rico had kitchen duty. Since they used paper plates for convenience, it was mainly pots, pans and utensils. Pax looked up from his phone and thought he’d talk about something that had been on his mind. He could trust Rico not to say anything.
“I had this strange encounter with a woman.”
Rico folded a dishtowel and laid it on the counter. He was well over six feet tall with long hair tied into a ponytail at his neck. A scar was slashed down the side of his face that made him a little off-putting to most. His nationality was a mystery, but Egan had said he was part white, Mexican, black and Indian. He was an intimidating figure.
“You can forget it if you’re asking for advice. I don’t know a thing about women. I don’t think any man does.”
“No, I don’t want advice. I met this woman while I was in Port Aransas. She was sitting on the beach and couldn’t get up so I helped her and that seemed to make her mad. She didn’t even say thank you. It was very clear she was ill, but she kept insisting she was fine. Then I went over
