“Here, Tamara.”
Tamara turned at the sound of the feminine voice. She hadn’t heard Samantha Kendall come out onto the porch. The older woman held out a glass, and Tamara took it.
“A tiny bit of brandy,” Samantha said. “It will help settle your nerves.”
“How can you be so kind to me when I’m putting your entire family in danger?”
“You’re doing no such thing. I agree there are suspicious circumstances surrounding the plane that brought you here. But I have every faith we’ll figure it all out, just as I have faith in the men of this family to keep us all safe.”
Tamara shook her head. “We both know there’s a lot of crime going on in this part of the country. That plane could have been involved in anything—drug smuggling, human trafficking, the dealing of illegal weapons—”
Henry and Morgan both came out of the house onto the porch.
“Itty Bitty, that plane is as tiny as you are,” Henry said. “No big crime syndicate is likely to have used it, as it doesn’t have much of a cargo capacity.”
“Probably we’re erring on the side of caution,” Morgan said. “Maybe there’s a very good reason the plane isn’t registered. I’ve made a couple of inquiries with some people I know. We should have some answers soon. In the meantime, we make sure both you and your uncle are here and safe. It’s just prudence, is all.”
Despite everything, Tamara felt herself smile. “You have a way of making the most extraordinary situation sound perfectly normal. Just what was it you did in the Air Force, Morgan?”
“Oh, a little of this and a little of that.” Morgan grinned.
Tamara wondered just what it was Morgan was trying to tell her. “That’s not very definitive. Were you involved in black ops?”
“The Air Force doesn’t have black ops,” Morgan said. “Just ask anyone.”
“No, of course they don’t.” Tamara would have said something more, but the sound of a car coming down the lane stopped her.
The sheriff’s car pulled to a stop at the head of the driveway, not far from the porch. Tamara wasted no time running down the steps. She reached the car in time to open the front passenger door.
“Well now just hold your horses, girl, I’m getting out.” Goodwin Hornsby placed one weathered hand on the top of the open door and levered himself out of the car.
He matched her in height, though she suspected that in his prime he’d been a little bit taller. His small frame probably held a good thirty pounds more than it should, but he didn’t seem overweight to her. He could no longer move as spryly as when she first came to him, but his stamina still nearly matched her own. The only outward clues to his age were the snow-white cap of hair on his head, and the fact that he could predict weather according to the bursitis in his joints.
Goodwin Hornsby, God bless him, would never see seventy-five again.
Tamara didn’t know why she felt so sentimental all of a sudden. But she did, so she threw her arms around the only person who—until very recently—had given one good damn about her in her entire life.
“There, now.” He patted her shoulder, an awkward movement for him, she thought, since she’d so rarely clung to him. “Best let me free so I can go and greet my hosts.”
Tamara stepped back. She met his gaze, the light in those so-familiar eyes intelligent and fierce.
“I know you,” he said. “You’re feeling prickly and have your nose out of joint on account of you can’t handle this situation all on your own. It’s not weakness to accept help when it’s needed, Tamara Jones.”
Tamara looked up at the people waiting on the porch, then back at her uncle. “Some habits are hard to break, Uncle Goodwin.”
“Well, I reckon there’re worse ones a body could be saddled with.” He turned and nodded to Adam, who still stood by the driver’s door. “Thank you, Sheriff. I appreciate the ride.”
“You’re welcome, Mr. Hornsby.”
Goodwin turned to take in the people on the porch. Tamara followed his gaze and noted that practically every member of the Kendall family had come out to greet him.
He walked in the way he did when his joints were hurting him. Tamara ached to help him, but she knew better. Goodwin Hornsby might say she needed to learn to be gracious and take a helping hand from time to time, but he sure as hell didn’t apply that advice to himself very often.
He gained the top of the porch and nodded at the senior brothers Kendall, speaking before she had the chance to introduce him. “I knew your mother. Miranda Kendall was a fine teacher. She taught me a darn sight more than just reading and spelling. I came to her class an untamed boy, and she taught me how to focus my mind and how to think.”
Preston smiled. “Mother used to brag that she’d had a hand in shaping that sharp business brain of yours, Mr. Hornsby. Welcome to our home.”
“Thank you. And thank you for looking out for my girl, here.”
“You don’t need to thank us for that,” Morgan said.
Morgan stood beside her and set his hand on her right shoulder. She felt Henry approach on her left side. Having them both there made her feel secure.
“Yes, I see that,” Goodwin said. “Well, good then.”
It wasn’t the men’s proprietary conduct or her uncle’s accepting attitude that commanded all of Tamara’s attention.
She looked at the fathers. “You know my uncle?”
“Before today, we’ve never had the pleasure of meeting him. But of course, he’s a very well-known man in the world of business and finance in Texas,” Charles said. “Dozens of thriving, successful businesses in the state owe their success to Goodwin Hornsby.” He tilted his head slightly as he said that. Then he glanced at his brothers. The senior Kendalls all appeared as bewildered as she felt.
Tamara looked at her uncle. “How come I’ve
