Page 14 of Harrison Hyde and the Runaway Bride

Harry felt himself relax. His head sank into the soft pillows underneath him. The floral wallpaper and the people standing before it all blurred and faded. Maria, the most vivid figure in the room, faded last of all.

When he woke again, it was morning. He knew it was morning by the way the birds were singing outside the open window. The breeze pushed the curtains so they swelled and floated up, then lowered again. He was in a bedroom with blue wallpaper that had yellow roses all over it. The curtains were white and so was the bedding. Beside the bed, a rocking chair, and a nightstand that held a half-empty coffee cup, a tall glass of water with a straw, a brown prescription bottle, his cellphone and wallet, and an open, face-down paperback calledLove on Bluebonnet Lane.

He lifted the covers and found himself dressed in light blue cotton pajamas that were not his own. He tried to piece together what had happened and came up with a series of jigsaw puzzle pieces, most of which featured a spunky, brown-eyed redhead.

It was surreal not knowing where he was or how he’d got there. He got out of the bed, his bare feet greeted by soft carpet. He was a little dizzy, but he stood there for a moment, and it passed. Then he shuffled to the open window and pushed the gauzy curtains aside.

There were green lawns, split-rail fences, a large barn, and several smaller ones, all of them white and trimmed in red.Horses grazed in a meadow that bordered a long building that must be their stable. Beyond the barnyard was rolling land, all kinds of land. Parts were brown and brushy, other parts were covered in woods, and still others were green and dotted with grazing longhorns. The land unfurled all the way to the widest, bluest horizon he’d ever seen. Off to the right, an arch rose over a ribbon of driveway, with the words TEXAS BRAND carved into its curve. The X was bigger than the other letters and had circle around it.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Her voice made him turn around. The redhead had entered the room bearing a plate full of food and a cold pack. She smiled brightly. “Nice to see you’re awake. And up, even. But here, settle back in and relax. When’s the last time you had breakfast in bed?”

“When I was ten, I think.” He scuffed back to the bed, stacked the pillows high, then got in sitting up, but leaning back against them. “No, eleven. Had strep throat. Mom brought me chicken noodle soup and orange Jello.”

“I bet it cured you, too.”

“Is this where you live? It’s incredible.”

“Oh Lord, no, this is the ranch.”

“The ranch.”

“The Texas Brand. It’s kind of the family headquarters. My mom grew up here with her five big brothers. Most have their own places now, though us kids spent endless time here growing up. Uncle Garrett and Aunt Chelsea still live here. My cousins and I all moved in for the week of the weddin’.” She set the plate of food on the crowded nightstand and offered Harrison the cold pack. “Even Bubba came home, and it’s been a while. Anyway, Uncle Garrett thought you and I would be safer here. You know, until he and his crew find Billy Bob and throw him into a jail cell.”

She talked a lot. Used ten words where three would do. He liked it. He liked listening to her. Her accent was as soothing as a full body massage.

“You gon’ put that on your head, or just chill your hand with it?” She nodded at the cold pack, and he realized he’d been looking at her a little bit too long. He touched his face with his other hand and felt bandages. His right eyebrow and forehead had the biggest one. There was a tiny one on the bridge of his nose.

Maria took the cold pack from him and laid it across his left eye. It had a little strap attached that she stretched around his head to hold the cold pack in place. “Your eye’s still swollen, but I’ve been puttin’ ice on it for ten minutes every little while, and it’s improving.”

“Is it?”

“You can see through it now, can’t you?”

He lifted the cold pack to peek out then nodded and put it back in place.

“It’s Sunday,” she said. “You still have plenty of time to make your Silver City Shark Tank thing by Wednesday. You don’t need to worry. We’ll drive you ourselves if we don’t find your car by then.”

“Findmy car?” He sat straight again, got a little dizzy, and put a hand on his head.

Maria bent over him, hands on his shoulders, her face near his bent head. She smelled like fresh air and sunshine. “Easy now, easy. Just be still a minute, it’ll pass.” She moved one hand to his head and somehow it helped.

“It’s really not that bad.” As the dizziness eased, he lifted his chin. It didn’t return. Carefully, he said, “What happened to my car?”

“Billy Bob stole it, after he kicked the stuffin’ outta you. Did you leave the keys in it, do you remember?”

He tried to think back. His memory of having his face pounded had returned the minute she’d uttered the name Billy Bob, but what had come before that was still cloudy. “We stopped at a cantina,” he said. “For tacos. God, all this for a taco.”

“Theywereamazin’,” she reminded him. “I was right about that.”

He closed his eyes. “We have to get the car back. The prototype is in the car,” he said.

“Right, I know. I guess— I was hopin’ you’d have a backup.”

“In a safe, in my lab two-thousand miles from here, yeah. But still?—”

“Billy Bob’ll have no interest in pawing through your dad’s tackle box. And he wouldn’t know a solar tile from a floor tile. We’ll find the car and your project will be there safe and sound.” Maria handed him his plate of food. “Chelsea’s famous flapjacks,” she said.

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