Excerpt of More to Texas than Cowboys by Roz Denny Fox

SLOWING HER RED Chevy Blazer on the outskirts of
Homestead, Texas, Greer Bell passed a population sign that
read 2,504. Wasn't it decidedly less than that now, at
least according to the current mayor? Directly ahead in
the center of town sat Homestead's most impressive
landmark, the old courthouse. Its yellow granite columns
and soaring clock tower told Greer she was home.

She knew that a lot of small Texas towns boasted similar
landmarks. This courthouse probably hadn't changed since
it was erected by a German immigrant in the 1840s; as the
story went, his wife had refused to budge once they
reached Loveless County. Oh, the tales that old building
could tell.

Maybe returning home after ten years away wasn't going to
be as easy as she'd imagined. Greer had certainly never
expected her first glimpse of Post Street to bring such a
mix of nostalgia and angry butterflies to her stomach.
Frankly she'd assumed there'd be more visible change
because of the land giveaway. She'd figured there'd be
more people out and about in the middle of the week. Mayor
Miranda Wright's plan to revitalize Homestead by offering
land or vacant homes to families willing to rebuild the
dying town didn't appear overwhelmingly successful. This
was the same backdrop Greer conjured up in every dream of
home during the past ten years. Maybe there were a couple
of new stores. She pulled over and dropped her head onto
both hands, still clutching the wheel.

She was parked in front of Tanner's General Store. Had it
been revamped? Painted? Oh — down the street that sign for
a Dollar Store was new. And the café.

Shelby, Greer's nine-year-old daughter, had slept on and
off during their second day's journey from Denver.
Stirring, the girl rubbed sleepy hazel eyes several shades
darker than her mom's, which were generously flecked with
gold.

"Are we there yet?" she asked for the millionth time,
punctuating her query with a massive yawn.

Greer quickly raised a clammy forehead. "Not yet, honey
bunny. We're in downtown Homestead. Our ranch is several
miles…thataway." Greer jerked a thumb toward undulating
hills barely visible beyond the courthouse, where a couple
of old men sat on benches.

Shelby pressed her nose to the side window. "Then why are
we stopping? Oh…is this where Grandma works?" Her voice
warbled excitedly.

"My mother, you mean? Uh, no. Loretta, uh, teaches math at
the high school. It's a few miles out of town." Greer's
eyes strayed to her daughter's image in the rearview
mirror, she noted her own deep frown. She wiped it away.
After all, she'd taken many things into consideration
before making up her mind to move back to the place of her
birth. And yet she'd sheltered Shelby from the truth about
her family — why her only grandparents were nothing but a
scrawled signature on Christmas and birthday cards. But
sitting in far-off Colorado — where she'd helped manage a
busy guest ranch — filling out an application for a piece
of Homestead's almost-free land had seemed simple. Here,
facing the stark reality, even knowing it was time to
confront her past, Greer wasn't sure she had the stomach
for it. Still, this wasn't the moment to begin divulging
the truth to Shelby. Not when so many unsettled feelings
boiled within Greer.

"Groceries," she said suddenly, digging up a reason for
stopping. "We need a few things to tide us over until we
get to the staples I sent in the moving van. This is
Tanner's," she muttered, peering at the weathered
sign. "It used to be the town's only grocery store. I
figured Homestead would have a superstore by now, but
apparently not," Greer said, scanning the two-lane street
flanked by old one-and two-story red brick or cream-
colored buildings. Her stomach pitched again. She'd
counted on change, but there didn't seem to be much, and
now Greer wasn't sure she could get out and step back in
time.

Shelby felt no such compunction. Unbuckling her seat belt,
she threw open her door and slammed it shut with a bang.

Watching her energetic daughter bound over the curb onto
the sidewalk, Greer emerged more slowly from the Blazer,
and then took a minute to lock the doors, even though no
one in Homestead had ever done so in the past.

Shelby didn't wait for her mom at the entry, but shoved
open one of the peeling double doors and disappeared
inside, causing a bell over the door to jingle. Such a
small thing, but Greer was further catapulted back to her
childhood, when she'd trailed up these steps after her
dad, clutching money she'd earned doing chores around the
farm. Robert Bell, always stern, invariably scolded her
for spending every last penny on books, knickknacks and
candy. And yet…despite his own thrifty ways, he'd never
tried to stop her. The memory was a sharp reminder of all
she'd lost.

A lump settled in her throat as a string of familiar
scents wafted past on the breeze created as Shelby let the
door bang shut. Greer knew what her daughter would find
inside. Oak barrels of varying sizes, brimming with
gourmet goodies.

Well, gourmet by Homestead's standards. Delicacies such as
home-cured jerky, fat dill pickles, peppermint drops, or
specialties like imported teas. Seasonally, Mrs. Tanner
stocked spicy cinnamon-orange, or pear-and-apple blend.
For as far back as Greer could remember, stepping into
Tanner's had been like walking into a treasure trove. Food
was the least of what they offered. Collectibles, toys,
Christmas ornaments, kitchen gadgets and sundry gifts hung
from the ceiling or were tucked in a myriad of cubbyholes.
She'd have to bribe Shelby with a second trip to town if
she hoped to pry her out of the store anytime soon.

Needing to let her eyes adjust to the dim interior after
leaving the bright fall sun, Greer hesitated beside a
barrel of shiny red apples. She supported herself against
it to make sure her jelly knees weren't going to let her
down.

Once, she'd loved this store. Loved this town. She blinked
rapidly to stave off tears she thought had all been shed
long ago, and attempted to locate Shelby, all while
compiling observations — well-oiled dark oak floors, a
painted tin ceiling, dancing wind chimes tinkling softly
in the lazy breeze of a fan. Her gaze skipped over the
clerk standing behind the counter. She did notice he
operated a more modern cash register than she recalled.

A customer laughed at something the clerk said. Greer
judged both men to be a bit older than her almost twenty-
seven years. It was hard to tell until her eyes adjusted.
But she was reassured that something had changed. Affable
LeRoy Tanner, a contemporary of Greer's dad, obviously no
longer owned the store. LeRoy and his wife had been
fixtures in town forever, it seemed.

In her sporadic letters, Greer's mother had indicated that
a number of old-time residents had fallen on hard luck and
left town.

A booming voice addressed Greer by name, and she snapped
her head around. Realizing it was one of the men at the
counter, she squinted to see better.

Shelby abandoned the Madam Alexander doll she was
inspecting to burrow into Greer's side. "Mama, that man
knows you," she said in a stage whisper.

Greer cleared her throat. "I'm sorry, you…ah…have me at a
disadvantage. I'm still sun-blind." She was pretty sure it
was the clerk who'd spoken, yet it was the customer who
galvanized her attention. A good two inches shorter but
broader-shouldered than the clerk, the customer wore
typical rancher garb — square-heeled boots, blue jeans and
a long-sleeved cotton shirt. It was his arresting blue
eyes under a worn baseball cap that gave her pause. Not
your typical cowboy, but in spite of the general
consensus, there was more to Texas than cowboys.

"I'm Edmond Tanner," the clerk said, rounding the counter
with his hand outstretched. "My dad, LeRoy, would've been
here at the time you left. I've gotta confess, your hair
gave you away. I'd've known those red curls even if
Loretta hadn't told us you were due to get in today,
Greer." His hearty chuckle was cut short by a rib-jab from
his companion.

"Oops, forgive my bad manners." Edmond cocked his thumb
like a pistol. "I figured you two knew each other. Greer…
Noah Kelley. Er…I reckon I oughta call him Father Kelley.
With your dad being on the church board and all, I assumed
Loretta had passed on the news about Father Holden's
stroke. We're lucky the greater regional Episcopal council
saw fit to let Noah fill in until his pop's back on his
feet."

Greer reeled at the announcement and did a double take.
Now she remembered Noah Kelley. They'd both been much
younger. And he had certainly changed. Holden's son used
to wear his hair slicked down. He'd looked — well, stiff
in starched white shirts and the requisite Sunday suit.

Noah responded to the lengthy introduction with a
dismissive shrug. "I'd probably graduated from college and
entered seminary before you got out of high school, so
there's no reason you'd know I ended up an associate
priest at a church in Austin for…oh, more years than I
care to think about. Time sure flies."

Ed Tanner stroked his chin. "You're gettin' old, Noah. I
forgot your mom recently ordered a cake for your, uh,
thirty-second birthday wasn't it?"

"Thirty-first," Noah said, playfully aiming a punch at
Ed's bony arm. "Years come and years go. Think how long
you've been an old married man, Ed. Why don't we forget
age and just welcome Greer home." Noah's eyes rested on
her briefly.

"I do remember you," he said after a pause. "You wore
pigtails and were nearer the age of — is the charming girl
at your side your daughter?"

"Yep, my name is Shelby," the child piped up without a
shred of modesty.

Noah's teeth flashed in a grin. "Well, I hope I'll have
the privilege of seeing both of you lovely ladies again
soon. At church on Sunday?"

"No, you won't," Greer shot back so quickly it surprised
everyone. "We haven't even moved in yet." She grabbed
Shelby's hand and hurriedly collected a shopping cart. How
did she tell the local Episcopal priest that she hadn't
darkened a church door since she'd left Homestead —
because his dad had been instrumental in convincing her
parents to send her into exile? Noah Kelley was a sneaky
one. Not only didn't he resemble any man of God Greer had
ever seen, where the heck was his identifying collar? How
dared he go about town looking like an ordinary
rancher. "Come on, Shelby, let's start with vegetables."
Greer aimed her cart toward the very back of the store
where she remembered Tanner's displayed fresh produce.
Talk about bad luck. Of all the people she'd give anything
not to run into here in Homestead, a relative of Father
Holden Kelley topped her list.

In the occasional letters Greer received from her mom,
Loretta Bell had probably avoided mentioning Holden or any
member of his church board on purpose. No surprise there,
given the shouting match they'd all had ten years ago.

NOAH EXCHANGED a blank look with Ed. Intrigued, he excused
himself and hurried down the aisle after the woman and
girl. He caught up quickly because Shelby had stopped to
inspect a rack of kids'books. "My invitation to attend
church remains open for whenever you get settled, Greer.
Attendance at St. Mark's fell off even before Pop's
stroke. My main goal is to recapture the strayed or lost,"
he said, turning up the wattage on a slightly crooked
smile. "I'd especially like to entice back young families
such as yours." Noah's bright gaze again shifted to
Shelby. "You'd be eight or nine? We have a growing Sunday
school that would gladly make room for one more. Perhaps
your mom remembers Debra Coleville, or she may have been
Debra Rooney then. She teaches a combined second-and third-
grade class."

Shelby hugged the book. "Will some of the kids be in my
third grade at regular school? I just turned nine."

"I think Megan Ritter's eight. Her sister, Heather, is six
or seven, and their brother, Brad, is nine. So's Callie
Montgomery's sister, Brittany. And…the Gallaghers have a
range of ages," he said, rattling off a stream of names.

Some sounded vaguely familiar. Greer scrabbled through her
mind but was unable to place anyone specific except for
Gallagher. Every Texan knew State Senator Clint
Gallagher. "Mama, if I met some kids Sunday, I'd have
friends for when I start school next week."

Greer released her breath and gave a severe shake of her
head. "I said no, Shelby. We need every waking hour to get
the ranch cottages ready for our paying guests. Church is
out of the question."

Glancing between mother and child, Noah offered what he
thought was a compromise. "I understand you and your
husband are probably anxious to spruce things up in order
to get your business off the ground. You could send Shelby
with her grandparents."

Pulling herself up to her full five-foot-three inch
height, Greer let stormy eyes rake the much taller man's
guileless expression. "Shelby's never met my parents. And
for the record…I don't have a husband. Now, if you'll
excuse us, I'd like to finish shopping so we can get out
to our ranch before the movers show up."

Spinning on one heel, she sped down an adjacent aisle,
uncaring that she'd been rude to a man of the cloth. She
didn't let up her mad dash until she reached the bins of
vegetables and began pitching items willy-nilly into her
cart.

Shelby finally found her. "Yuck, Mama. We don't eat
turnips. And what's that green stuff with the red edges?"

Greer frowned at her cart. "It's chard. On second thought,
these greens will probably spoil before I have a chance to
use them." Meekly she put back the chard and some lettuce
snatched up in her hasty attempt to escape Noah Kelley.
Father Noah!