The Texas Ranger's Reward

“I want to do more than that,” he said, with a look of longing in his eyes. “I’ve got ideas for a whole series of books based on World War II. Take a peek.” He opened his briefcase and handed her a proposal he’d put together. “We make a great team.”

No. Not in the way he meant. It was code for he wanted to marry her. This had to end now.

“Tom, I’m flattered that you want me to collaborate on your terrific stories, but I’m not interested in doing more of this kind of work.”

He stared at her in disbelief. “I can’t believe you’re serious. You’re a wonderful artist.”

She’d been afraid of this, but it had to be said. “Thank you so much for giving me the opportunity, but I have my reasons.”

“What are they?”

“Well, I’ve discovered that my work as a therapist keeps me so busy, I don’t like the outside stress of deadlines. I’ve always painted for pleasure and don’t want that to change now.”

“Surely you realize a lot of money could be involved here—” The mention of money couldn’t mask the hurt in his voice.

“I’m not after money,” she stated quickly.

“Then it’s me you don’t like.”

“Of course I do, or I wouldn’t have worked with you on this.”

He seemed to hesitate before he said, “Don’t you realize how I feel about you?”

“Oh, Tom. Since my divorce I’ve been focused on my work. You’re in a different place than I am. I love my freedom and don’t want that to change.” She hated it that he’d gotten emotionally attached without any encouragement from her. For him to have built a romantic fantasy about them was ludicrous. In Melissa’s opinion he ought to go back to his wife, but she would never say that. All she could do was be firm.

When he didn’t respond she added, “You’re the writer and can attract other artists much more talented than I am. I don’t doubt that in time you’ll meet that special someone.”

“Wait,” he said, as she put a twenty-dollar bill on the table and got to her feet.

“I can’t. I have to get back to the clinic. Let this lunch be on me. Naturally, I’ll be available for anything else I have to do before the book goes to publication.”

On that note she turned and worked her way through the lunch crowd, doubly thankful she’d never been anything but professional with Tom. He certainly couldn’t accuse her of leading him on.

In truth, she’d been distracted by something else since she’d awakened that morning. For some reason she’d expected a phone call from Mr. Stillman, telling her Casey was back to not wanting to go to school. But then she did a rethink. If the little boy pulled another stunt, his dad would most likely go through another avenue to get help, and she would never know how things worked out for him.

For the rest of the afternoon she stayed busy, then left for the gym. A good workout was what she needed; it always helped relieve tension. But when she got home, she still felt at loose ends. She wanted to blame it on the unhappy moments at the restaurant earlier with Tom.

She should have been able to see his real intentions when he’d asked her to collaborate with him. But she didn’t blame him. He was only doing what a divorced man would do to move on, and she must have seemed like a perfect start.

Casey’s widowed father, on the other hand, wasn’t looking. Any woman who hoped to draw the former Texas Ranger’s attention was delusional.

In the end, Melissa climbed into bed with a portfolio of some of her old paintings. For years she’d been working on characters that one day might be the inspiration for children’s cartoons for the screen. She worked with acrylics, and little by little she felt she was improving. But she hadn’t yet achieved something she considered good enough to send to an agent who would approach a film studio for her.

After studying some of her paintings, she set the portfolio aside and began a new sketch.

The next thing she knew, it was morning. When she rolled out of bed, her right foot landed on the sketch pad, which had fallen to the floor at some point in the night. She picked it up and was shocked to discover a familiar face looking back at her.

Casey Stillman. Somehow he had worked his way onto the paper. An older Casey—maybe thirteen—astride an animal with three horns coming through a prehistoric-looking forest. Over his strong body he wore skins, and a thong around his forehead. One hand clutched a spear. His leg carried a jagged scar from thigh to ankle. A teen superhero …

Pleased with the drawing, she sat on the mattress and added a few more touches. Finally satisfied, she removed the sketch from the pad and slid it under the bed. Later she’d take it to an art store and have it framed. After taking her pad and portfolio to the other bedroom, which she’d set up as a studio, she showered and dressed for work.

Since she would never see Casey again, she was glad she had a memento of him. That little boy must have really gotten to her, showing up in her art as he had.

But as she drove to the clinic a half hour later, she realized she needed to get her mind on other things. Tomorrow being Saturday, she would get up early and drive to the cabin.

Remembering the talk with her parents, she made a mental note to phone her brother, John, and ask him to bring Nedra and the kids for an overnighter. If they couldn’t come, she’d call her sister, Linda. Maybe she and Brent would bring their children. Surely one of her siblings would be able to join her. But if no one could make it, Melissa decided, she’d stay till dark before leaving for home, and return on Sunday morning.

It angered her that strangers trespassed with no conscience and made themselves comfortable in a cabin that didn’t belong to them. She’d felt violated. And then there was the fact that she’d seen no sign of a break-in. That disturbed her a lot. Someone had a key, or a way to get in, and could walk in on her at any time. She supposed the first thing she could do when she got up there was hunt for John’s old baseball bat and keep it with her so she wouldn’t feel completely helpless.

Kamas was only thirty miles east of Sandy. They had to drive another two miles on dirt roads to reach their property. The log cabin, built in 1935, was at a higher elevation and somewhat isolated from other cabins in the forest. She could see it made a perfect target for lowlifes—her father’s term for people who made themselves at home on someone else’s land.

If she found more signs of trespassers using their cabin, she’d tell her parents she was calling the police, and she’d meet them there herself. Something had to be done. The cabin had always been her retreat. It was important.

As soon as she reached the clinic, she made phone calls to her siblings. No one was free this weekend, though John told her he’d get back to her if anything changed. She thanked him, but didn’t count on it. So she wouldn’t be able to go up to the cabin. Melissa was deflated by that prospect, but knew there was nothing else to do but accept it and immerse herself in work.

Fridays usually turned out to be the busiest day of the week. That was a good thing. She’d barely said goodbye to her first patient when the receptionist told her she had a call on line four. Maybe it was John. She picked up and almost said his name, but caught herself in time. “Melissa Dalton.”

“Ms. Dalton?” Her pulse picked up speed when she recognized that baritone voice. “This is Travis Stillman.”

“Good morning. How’s Casey doing?”

“He’s the reason I’m calling.” Uh-oh. “Would you happen to be free after work today?”

What?

“Casey wants you to go to the movie with us.”

“I take it he’s weaned himself from the crutches.”

“He has, all because of you. He wants to thank you for the birthday treats. I told him you were a very busy lady, but he asked me to try and arrange it. Hopefully it won’t interfere with your plans for the evening.”

“No, it’s a perfect time for me.”

“You’re through at four-thirty?”

“Yes. I’ll meet you at the theater if you’ll tell me which one.”

“In the Bell Canyon Plaza. It’s the latest Spider-Man. There’s a showing at four forty-five.”

“I’ll be there.”

“We’ll meet you outside the box office to give you your ticket.”

“Sounds good. Tell Casey thanks for sharing his gift. I’ll see you both later.”

“Until then.”

She hung up, but when she thought about the invitation, her excitement quickly subsided. This had been Casey’s doing, not his father’s. And just as Melissa had avoided meeting Tom in the evenings, Travis Stillman had arranged this outing during the day.