Texas Pride by Bárbara McCauley

stables out here and breeding racehorses is reality?”
    Myrna lifted her chin. “It’s a sound investment. Daddy thinks so, too.”
    â€œYou hate horses, Myrna. How are you going to breed and train them?”
    â€œI’ll hire people to do that, of course. Stone Creek Stables, I’m going to call it. We’ll be famous.”
    Jessica heard Dylan’s grunt of laughter, but ignored it. “I’ll not selling Makeshift, Myrna. Not one acre, not one inch. You’ll have to find something else to be famous for somewhere else.”
    â€œJessica, living in these dilapidated old buildings is dangerous. How can you even sleep?”
    Sleep was definitely becoming a problem, Jessica thought, but it had nothing to do with old buildings and everything to do with Dylan.
    â€œMyrna, are you pestering Jessica again?”
    Myrna frowned as her father entered the kitchen. “I’m not pestering anyone. Jessica’s just too stubborn, that’s all.”
    â€œStone determination,” Carlton said with admiration. “Your late husband taught his children well. Too bad that man never went into business with me. We would have made a fortune. Good afternoon, Jessica. Mr. Grant.”
    Dylan nodded to the other man. “Dylan, please.”
    Jessica watched as the two men shook hands. She noticed that Carlton wasn’t as pale as he’d been at the party for Jared, and he moved less stiffly today. He was dressed casually, in gray slacks and a polo shirt, and looked remarkably younger. She hoped that meant there’d been an improvement in his condition.
    â€œYou’ve done a fine job here, young man,” Carlton said to Dylan. “I never would have thought that church was salvageable.”
    â€œIt looked worse than it was,” Dylan said. “But I give all the credit to my crew. They’re hardworking dependable men.”
    Carlton shook his head. “Don’t be modest, my boy. It’s good leadership that makes a project succeed. Good leadership and careful planning. I could use a man like you in one of my companies.”
    Dylan glanced up at the sound of shouting from outside. Frowning, he went through the lobby and into the street. Jessica followed, trailed by Myrna and Carlton. The crew hurried up the street from the church. Max, the supervising carpenter, led the pack.
    â€œSorry, boss,” Max said, stopping in front of Dylan. His voice shook. “But you’re going to have to find a new crew.”
    â€œA new crew!” Dylan looked at each man. Their faces were white, their eyes wide. “What are you talking about?”
    â€œIt’s one thing to hear stories. I mean, who believes it?” Sweat dripped from Max’s forehead. “But when it’s right in your face, Lordy, it’s something different.”
    â€œMax, what the hell are you talking about?”
    â€œGhosts, boss. That’s what we’re talking about. In the church. We’re outta here.”

Six
    â€œI can’t believe Lucas or Meggie would object to the rebuilding.” Jessica paced the length of the kitchen. After a frenzied afternoon, everyone else, including Myrna and Carlton, had finally left. “Especially the church.”
    Dylan leaned against the counter, arms folded, face set tight. “According to Max, they not only objected, they picked up a hammer and threw it right at him.”
    Jessica dragged her hands through her hair as she continued to pace. “It can’t be. Meggie and Lucas would never hurt anyone—” she hesitated “—unless there was a reason of course.”
    Dylan frowned. “The men aren’t convinced.”
    Jessica groaned. “So he actually saw Meggie? Really saw her?”
    â€œHe believes he saw something. And so did the other men who were in the church. They also heard voices, a man and a woman arguing.”
    Jessica shook her head. “Meggie and Lucas never