Daughter of Texas by Terri Reed Page A

you should come inside and have a drink of water.”
    Gathering her equilibrium and sanity, she pulled out of his grasp. The last thing she needed was to be attracted to or attached to Ben. He was part of her father’s world. A place she had every intention of leaving behind. “I think I should return to Gisella’s now.”
    She needed to go somewhere, anywhere away from him and the confusing sensations swirling around her head and chipping away at her heart.
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    Ben stood at the graveside of his fallen captain. The casket hovered over an open pit lined with a red velvet covering. The red, white and blue flag draped over thepolished mahogany-wood casket fluttered in the humid breeze. The pastor gave the eulogy in soothing modulated tones. The faint sound of crying lifted on a puff of air.
    The blustery fall day, heavy with humidity and rain, had been predicted. Wearing his best navy suit, Ben barely noticed the temperature as his gaze searched through the throng of mourners gathered in the Sunset Memorial Park cemetery. He hoped that the murderer would give him or herself away. But so far no one raised an alarm in Ben’s senses. No one in the crowd resembled the intruder in the sketch.
    There was a handful of civilians in attendance, all of whom had been checked out by the Rangers. Neighbors, buddies from Greg’s college days, family friends from when the late Mrs. Pike had been alive.
    The majority of those present were in law enforcement and Ben’s mind rebelled at the thought of any of these men and women being in cahoots with Greg’s murderer. Still, Ben tried to view each with a critical eye.
    Sheriff Layton, in full dress uniform, his shocking white hair blowing in the wind, stood with his arm around his petite wife. Grief cut deep lines in his craggy face. A good number of San Antonio police officers in dress uniform were also in attendance.
    Senior Captain Parker and his wife, a willowy redhead, held hands, their expressions somber. Beside them stood Ranger Assistant Chief Ambrose Ralston, a heavy-set man with a normally jolly disposition. Today he appeared grim as he paid his respects. Sweat beaded on his flaccid face.
    Behind and flanking the chiefs stood a sea of white-hatted, dark-suited, silver-starred Rangers, from all the companies around the state. The loss of one of their own reflected in each face.
    Ben’s gaze roamed over the more prestigious mourners. The death of a Ranger deserved the respect of every office of the state, including its official representatives. San Antonio Mayor Les Bernard, in his mid-forties with sandy blond hair and GQ looks in a well-tailored suit, stood with his platinum blonde wife, but there was a gap of space between them.
    Texas State Senator Frederick Huffington, in his late fifties and decidedly on the paunchy side in a brown suit stood staring at the casket. At his side, his spouse dabbed at her nose with a tissue.
    And finally, the head of the State of Texas, Governor John Kingston, a regal man in his late sixties in a pin-striped suit, held an arm firmly around his silver-haired wife.
    All were properly solemn. No inkling that any had wished Captain Pike ill. Not that Ben had expected to see ill will among the prominent attendees. The murder was related to whatever case Greg had been working.
    His gaze sought Corinna. She stood sandwiched between the senator and the governor, teary-eyed, sad and heartbreakingly beautiful. Her sleeveless black knee-length dress almost dwarfed her. The wound on her arm was covered with a flesh-colored bandage. His stomach muscles contracted every time he saw the reminder of how close she’d come to death.
    A little black hat with a mesh veil covered her slicked-back hair. Her oval-shaped, pale face stood out in starkcontrast. But it was her eyes, so bleak, so full of pain each time she glanced around her, that grabbed Ben by the gut and squeezed tight.
    For days he’d ached for her loss and the