After many years of therapy Phaedra had come to terms with having an absentee father who preferred a life of crime over his loving wife and daughter. Her mother had often used her own life as an example of what happened when a woman made bad choices over men who were not deserving of her. She’d been apologetic for not having served Phaedra better.
When Daniel had died, still locked behind prison walls, Phaedra had mourned the loving father she had wanted him to be, not the apathetic parent he had actually been. And through it all, her mother had never once considered that Phaedra needed to know the truth of her paternity. But reading her mother’s words, Phaedra had come to understand that her mother had wanted only to protect both her daughter and James Stallion, the only man she’d apparently ever loved. Holding the truth close to her heart had been Arneta’s way of shielding all of them from heartbreak. But Arneta had been wrong because her heart had been broken, and now Phaedra’s heart was broken, too.
Heading to Dallas, Phaedra was now hoping for an opportunity to meet the siblings who shared her bloodline. Hoping against all odds to connect with her father’s family, the family that was also her own.
Chapter 3
“Wow!” Mason called out, his eyes widening as they settled down against the bleachers to watch the annual Wild West rodeo show that was about to begin. The entire morning had been a whirlwind of events, one happening right after the other. Mason would never have imagined the magnitude of the Briscoe-Stallion Annual Rodeo, it being the most attended community event in Dallas each year.
Briscoe Ranch was well over eight hundred acres of working cattle ranch, an equestrian center and an entertainment complex that specialized in corporate and private client services. With the property being central to Austin, Houston, Dallas and Fort Worth, Briscoe Ranch had made quite a name for itself.
Back in the day, Edward Briscoe, the ranch’s original owner, had been one of the original black cowboys. Not long after the birth of his three daughters, Eden and the twins, Marla and Marah, he and his first wife had expanded their Texas longhorn operation, adding two twenty-thousand-square-feet event barns and a country bed-and-breakfast.
After Marah Briscoe’s marriage to business tycoon John Stallion, Edward had given the property to his daughter and new son-in-law, her love for a Stallion ending the conflict that had brought the couple together in the first place. Under the Stallion family umbrella, Briscoe Ranch was growing steadily and now a point of consideration for a number of government programs to assist children and families in need. The ranch was home to them all, and the pride and joy of both families.
“This is something!” Mason said, tipping his head toward John and Matthew, who’d settled down beside him.
John laughed. “Marah’s father, Edward, has been hosting this event since forever. Every year we’re amazed at just how big it’s gotten.”
Matthew nodded his concurrence. “At the rate we’re growing, I’m afraid we might run out of land to accommodate everyone,” he said jokingly.
John and Mason both laughed with him.
“So, what then?” Mason queried. “Will you buy the state of Texas?”
John grinned broadly. “Maybe Mexico, too, especially if we keep allowing these women to be in charge!” he mused.
Laughter rang out among them, the three men clearly having a good time.
From a safe distance across the way, Phaedra adjusted the lens on her camera, focusing her sight on the two brothers seated beside each other. She snapped a photo and then a second one before letting the camera rest back against her chest, hanging from a secure leather strap around her neck.
The rodeo event had been a stroke of luck for her. Access to the ranch and the Stallion men had come with minimal difficulty. From the moment Phaedra had stepped onto the property, the brothers had been front and center, taking their hosting responsibilities seriously. Without needing to ask, Phaedra had been able to identify the four of them almost instantly.
From the back pocket of her denim jeans, Phaedra pulled out the photograph she’d found in her mother’s possessions, glancing from them to it and back again. There was no mistaking the Stallion lineage detailed in their facial features, each son the spitting image of his father, and hers. Their resemblance to her was even more startling. From the warm coloration of their black-coffee complexions, chiseled jawlines, plush pillows for lips and warm, endearing smiles, Phaedra saw hints of her own reflection. She had their eyes, the same nose, high cheekbones and mouth. Had she inherited her father’s dark complexion instead of her mother’s milk-chocolate tone, she would easily have passed for a Stallion twin. Phaedra took a deep breath as she suddenly fought not to cry.
Lifting her camera back to her eyes, she peered through the lens, once again pointing it toward where the brothers sat. She focused her gaze on one and then the other. She watched as the brother on the end leaned over to exchange conversation with a man who sat on his sibling’s other side. Phaedra shifted her camera and refocused it, zooming in on the stranger. There was something about the handsome man that suddenly had her curious. She couldn’t help wondering who he was, his brilliant smile warm and magnanimous.
Whoever the man was, he was quite good-looking, Phaedra thought as she spun the lens into focus, snapping a quick shot and then a second. The trio seemed quite friendly with one another, clearly enjoying the events playing out in the center of the arena. And then, as if his radar had sounded an alarm, the man suddenly looked up, his gaze shifting directly toward her as if he knew she was staring at him. Phaedra lowered her camera abruptly, feeling as if she’d gotten caught with both hands in the cookie jar, her palms overflowing with her favorite oatmeal-raisin treats. She pulled her hands through the length of her hair. The moment was slightly unnerving.
From the ground below, Phaedra suddenly heard her name being called, the sound of it startling her from her thoughts.
“Phaedra? Is that you? Phaedra Parrish!”
Glancing below, she caught sight of the red-haired white man waving wildly for her attention. His own cameras hung down against his side as he struggled not to drop them. Phaedra’s eyes widened brightly, the familiar face warming her spirit.
“Hooper!” Phaedra squealed, waving back. She eased her way down from the bleachers to move to the man’s side.
With his mane of fire-engine-red hair and the pipe that hung from his mouth like an appendage, Hooper Mars was a welcome sight, looking more like a lumberjack right out of the thick of a deep forest than the award-winning photographer that he was. Hooper’s brilliant smile put Phaedra instantly at ease. As she stepped off the last plank, the man wrapped her in a deep bear hug.
Her mentor in art school, Hooper was single-
handedly responsible for Phaedra changing her major from creative writing to photography. The two had become fast friends, he challenging her creative spirit and she excelling beyond his expectations. Phaedra’s successful career had only been rivaled by his.
“Watch the camera!” Phaedra laughed, lifting the device above her head as she hugged him tightly.
“Nice equipment,” Hooper responded, eyeing her Canon 5D Mark II full-frame camera with its long telephoto lens.
Phaedra adjusted her Lowepro camera backpack against her shoulder. “Thanks. What are you doing here?” she asked, surprise still ringing in her tone.
“Working. You?”
“Not working!” Phaedra said with a smile.
“So, what brings you all the way to Dallas and to here of all places?”
Phaedra hesitated, her shoulders shrugging skyward. “I was just passing through town