TEXAS BORN by Diana Palmer - LONG TALL TEXANS 46 - TEXAS BORN Page A

living. That was a secret she wasn’t going to share, either. Not now.
    “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” Michelle added.
    “Tomorrow.”
    * * *
    Carlie was waiting for her at the front door the next morning, which was Friday. She looked out of breath.
    “Is something wrong?” Michelle asked.
    “No. Of course not. Let’s go.”
    Carlie checked all around the truck and even looked under it before she got behind the wheel and started it.
    “Okay, now, what’s going on?” Michelle asked.
    “Daddy got a phone call earlier,” Carlie said, looking both ways before she pulled carefully out of the driveway.
    “What sort of call?”
    “From some man who said Daddy might think he was out of the woods, but somebody else was coming to pay him a visit, and he’ll never see it coming.” She swallowed. “Daddy told me to check my truck out before I drove it. I forgot, so I looked underneath just in case.” She shook her head. “It’s like a nightmare,” she groaned. “I have no idea in this world why anyone would want to harm a minister.”
    “It’s like our police chief said,” Michelle replied quietly. “There are madmen in the world. I guess you can’t ever understand what motivates them to do the things they do.”
    “I wish things were normal again,” Carlie said in a sad tone. “I hate having to look over my shoulder when I drive and look for bombs under my car.” She glanced at Michelle. “I swear, I feel like I’m living in a combat zone.”
    “I know the feeling, although I’ve never been in any real danger. Not like you.” She smiled. “Don’t you worry. I’ll help you keep a lookout.”
    “Thanks.” She smiled. “It’s nice, having someone to ride with me. These back roads get very lonely.”
    “They do, indeed.” Michelle sighed as she looked out over the barren flat landscape toward the horizon as the car sped along. “I just wrote my first story for the newspaper,” she said with a smile. “And Minette is taking me out to introduce me to people who work for the state and federal government. It’s the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me,” she added, her eyes starry with pleasure. “I get my own byline.” She shook her head. “It really is true...”
    “What’s true?” Carlie asked.
    “My dad said that after every bad experience, something wonderful happens to you. It’s like you pay a price for great happiness.”
    “I see what you mean.” She paused. “I really do.”
    * * *
    Minette drove Michelle out to the Patterson ranch, to take photographs for her story and to see the rancher’s award for conservation management. She also wanted a look at his prize Santa Gertrudis bull. The bull had been featured in a cattle magazine because he was considered one of the finest of his breed, a stud bull whose origins, like all Santa Gertrudis, was the famous King Ranch in Texas. It was a breed native to Texas that had resulted from breeding Shorthorn and Hereford cattle with Brahman cattle. The resulting breed was named for the Spanish land grant where Richard King founded the cattle empire in the nineteenth century: Santa Gertrudis.
    Wofford Patterson was tall, intimidating. He had jet-black hair, thick and straight, and an olive complexion. His eyes, surprisingly, were such a pale blue that they seemed to glitter like Arctic ice. He had big hands and big feet and his face looked as if it had been carved from solid stone. It was angular. Handsome, in its way, but not conventionally handsome.
    There were scars on his hands. Michelle stared at them as she shook his hand, and flushed when she saw his keen, intelligent eyes noting the scrutiny.
    “Sorry,” she said, although she hadn’t voiced her curiosity.
    “I did a stint with the FBI’s Hostage Rescue Team,” he explained, showing her the palms of both big hands. “Souvenirs from many rappels down a long rope from a hovering chopper,” he added with a faint smile. “Even gloves don’t always