The Impossible Texan - Softcover

Allie Shaw began writing in 1996 on "a dare from a friend," after ending a fifteen-year career in professional fundraising to stay home with her two children. A graduate of Northwestern University's School of Speech, Allie divides her days between Barbies and heroines, Hot Wheels and heroes. Allie's passions outside of writing include playing the harp, old English epic poetry, coffee, and chocolate (often together). Allie, her husband, and their two children live in the suburbs of Chicago.

Chapter One

Austin, Texas, 1888

Marlena Maxwell wasn't sure she could stand one more minute of tea. The stays in her corset were surely growing longer, poking her with agonizing little fingers. Mrs. Dorlan poured her typical stream of gossip into Marlena's uninterested ear. Enormous gaps in the old woman's teeth made her whistle when she spoke, and she smelled like old wool and wet talcum powder. The combination made her presence almost intolerable in the July afternoon heat. Marlena took another sip and nodded in feigned attention, but the tea's flimsy taste only reminded her how much she disliked tea--and tea parties. She mentally created a list of half a dozen things she'd prefer to be doing.

Without thinking, she returned the cup to its saucer with such a clink that even Mrs. Dorlan paused in surprise. Marlena sucked in her breath. She knew a particular pair of eyes would now be scowling at her from the settee by the window.

Claudia Maxwell, the undisputed matriarch of the Maxwell household and a consummate tea party hostess, glared at her daughter from across the room. Her palpable disapproval had a way of halting time for its intended victims while the rest of the world glided by unaware. "Lena, my dear," Marlena heard her mother's silent voice inside her head, "it's hardly what a lady would do."

The schedule Claudia Maxwell had maintained the last month might have had even the most dignified lady banging her teacup. The endless teas drove Marlena crazier than her corset stays. To make matters worse, she somehow always ended up mercilessly cornered by Mrs. Dorlan. She would have gladly traded places with her youngest sister, Andrea, who was too young to be expected to sit through the party. Marlena was certainly having trouble, even if she was twenty-four. Yet her mother and her younger sister Diana seemed to thrive on all the formality. Perhaps the endless string of teas was her mother's idea of what a senator's wife should do during campaign season. The closer the race, the more Claudia Maxwell broke out the cucumber sandwiches. It was getting to be a very close race.

"Oh, dearheart," chirped Mrs. Dorlan around a mouthful of pastry, "it was such a dreadful shame when Ogden Mathers died right in the middle of your daddy's campaign. Imagine that. I gather it was the strain that did him in--after all, he was getting on in years. Don't you worry though, dearie, word is out that the new campaign manager Senator Maxwell hired is a right smart fellow. Not that I think your daddy has anything to worry about, though. 'Course, you know he'll always have my vote as long as I live. He's a good man--"

"Hired, Mrs. Dorlan?" Marlena stopped her short, placing her hand on Mrs. Dorlan's shoulder. "Did you say you heard Daddy hired someone to replace Mr. Mathers?" she asked, just a little too loudly.

Marlena caught her mother's near-imperceptible cringe as she was pouring more tea for a guest. She had suspected her mother was keeping something from her. Now she knew. The cat was out of the bag, thanks to Mrs. Dorlan's uncanny ability to sniff out even the best-kept secrets--and her insatiable appetite for revealing them. Marlena bet her mother was instantly sorry she had confided in even her closest friends. But why hide it? Something bigger was certainly afoot.

If anyone knew, it would be Mrs. Dorlan. She interpreted Marlena's widened eyes as deep pools of interest and coconspiracy, and lapped it up like cream.

"Oh, yes. My goodness, I'm surprised you didn't know," she whispered, patting Marlena's hand and moving her powdery face closer. "Within four short weeks of that dreadful tragedy, your smart daddy has hired himself a most extraordinary campaign manager. A young fellow. Bit of a mystery though, regarding his schooling and such, but I am sure he comes from only the best of families. Not that I ever doubt your father, mind you; you know I'll vote for him till the day I die." The excitement of revealing such a juicy secret had her heavy body almost bouncing in her chair.

Marlena was miles ahead of her, furiously plotting a way out of the room. Her mother shot her a "don't you dare make a scene" look from over the top of her teacup.

That did it. "Don't you dare" never worked with Marlena Maxwell. She took an enormous gulp of tea and launched into an alarming yet ladylike coughing fit that had even Mrs. Dorlan worried.

"Oh, my," Marlena sputtered between coughs. "Oh, good heavens. My goodness. Would you excuse me?" Swooning just enough to keep anyone from stopping her, she glided out of the room, hiding her face behind a lace hankie. She was through the parlor door and halfway to the kitchen before her mother could rise from the settee.

Muttering about mothers and tea, Marlena burst through the kitchen door and nearly knocked over a housemaid. "He hired someone! And just when did he think he was going to tell me about this? Sarah, for God's sake, please tell me there's coffee in here." Marlena grabbed a cup and made for the pot on the stove before the girl even had the chance to answer. "Did he think I wouldn't know? Did he think I wouldn't care?" she asked no one in particular, pouring coffee into her cup, then dumping three spoonfuls of sugar into it and stirring so hard the saucer filled from the overflow. "I suppose I shouldn't bother my pretty little head about such things," she mocked, banging the coffeepot back down onto the stove. She snatched the cup and left the saucer rocking on the table. Mumbling something scathing but unintelligible from inside an enormous gulp of coffee, Marlena shot from the room.

Cook clicked her tongue and picked up the wet saucer. "El Senor has trouble coming now. No man that smart deserves a child with such a hot tongue. Madre de Dios, he has enough on his mind these days."

Sarah chuckled and put down the bowl of potatoes she'd been holding. "I'd sure like to be a fly on the wall in Senator Maxwell's office right about now."

The July heat made Senator Jason Maxwell's leather chair creak. His cigar smoke hung thick in the air despite a faint breeze. He was a large man, big and solid enough to fill the role of Texas senator but with a laugh hearty enough to make him protective rather than intimidating. His once black hair, now peppered with the gray of twelve years in office, seemed reluctant to stay neatly combed back and broke intermittently into curls on his forehead. His shirt opened atop a loosened lariat tie even though his vest stayed properly buttoned. The senator's jacket and a hero-size Stetson hat hung on an antler coatrack in the corner of the room. He gestured with the cigar in hand, tapping a thick finger on the top of a large pile of papers.

"These numbers do not make a man easy, son. I've got trouble comin' on all sides with Mathers gone, and I need you to hit the ground runnin'." The sound of a distant door slamming pierced the momentary silence. "Now, I took a king-size chance on you, Hamilton. You've got fire and I need it to win this race. Kenton's mad as hell at my beating him last time and he's running full out to bring me down. I don't trust him to keep it a clean race, either. I need to know you're up to the challenge." He stopped as a cautious figure appeared in his office doorway while a second door slammed, this time much nearer. "Yes, Miss Edgerton, what is the crisis this hour?" he asked wearily.

"Senator," began Deborah Edgerton, half looking behind her. "It's Lena. I can hear her voice coming down the hall."

Another nearby door slammed and the senator took his hand off the pile of papers and laid it on his forehead with a defeated sigh.

"I would guess at this point that she has heard of Mr. Hamilton's . . . um . . . arrival," continued Deborah. Maxwell opened his mouth to continue when the outer door to his office flew open, sending a few papers on Deborah's desk scattering to the ground.

"Daddy!"

Deborah cocked her head to the side helplessly and stepped back with the air of one who knew when to get out of harm's way.

"Daddy, I hope you're not busy, because I must talk with you this minute. Good afternoon, Deb," Marlena said without stopping or even looking at Deborah, but plunking her coffee cup down on the desk. "My father has no appointments in the next few minutes, I hope?" Without waiting for an answer she strode straight into the office and stood, with her hands on her hips, squarely in front of his desk. "Senator Maxwell," she said sweetly through gritted teeth, "you'll never, ever guess what Mrs. Dorlan just told me at tea. Just when were you thinking you might tell me about this? Daddy, how could you? Without even talking to me! I could just--"

"You could just say hello to Mr. Tyler Hamilton the third, Lena dear. I think that would be an excellent start," interrupted the senator before Marlena could launch any further into her tirade. She spun on her heels.

Her mouth opened and shut again.

There, leaning casually against the credenza, was the most stunning man Marlena had ever seen. Despite her racket, Tyler Hamilton had only just now looked up from his stack of papers to view the intrusion. He wasn't classically handsome, in an artistic sense, but he was stunning. Stunning. It was the only word that came to mind. A pair of tortoiseshell spectacles framed searing, ice-blue eyes. Large black pupils flashed in disarming contrast. A broad, brilliant grin stole across his face. He hadn't flinched. He hadn't even moved. And yet he filled the room.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Hamilton," she blurted out after a moment or two, wrenching back her composure. The senator leaned back in his seat, grinning at having pinned his daughter with a single sentence. "I am Marlena Maxwell, Senator Maxwell's oldest...