Cowboy Charming

by Dylann Crush

  “I’m having a hard time hearing you now, Eugenia. Didn’t you say you wanted to listen to that new polka CD Jim ordered online?” Mrs. Knotts gestured to the swinging door leading through the dining room and, Presley assumed, on into the kitchen.

  He glanced at his feet while the women and Mr. Knotts filed through the doorway. Alone on the entryway rug, he tugged off his boots and soaked socks. Then he carefully crept up the stairs, hoping none of the other guests happened to come out of their rooms. He’d just shut the door behind him and entered SoCal’s room when the front door slammed, shaking the solid walls of the mansion down to the foundation.

  Presley didn’t have much time. He locked the door behind him and swept his gaze over the room. Everything was in its place. The king-sized bed had been turned down for the night, and the bedside lamp cast a warm glow over the peach walls. He flipped on the overhead light and headed toward the window. An antique rolltop desk sat to the left. Papers stacked in a tidy pile rested on top.

  There had to be something here. Something that implicated SoCal and his uncle in stealing Kermit’s toads and trying to bully him into selling his land. Presley skimmed through the stacks. Voices argued downstairs. He couldn’t tell what they were saying, but he knew his time was limited. Under a pile of newspapers, he found something. Finally. A blown-up black-and-white picture of the inside of Kermit’s barn. Someone had circled the bins with a black marker and drawn an arrow that bled off the side of the page.

  The doorknob jiggled. Although Presley had flipped the lock, it wouldn’t last. Not with an angry guy the size of SoCal on the other side. A fist pounded on the door. Presley dropped the paper. Dammit. He squatted down to retrieve it as it hit the ground and slipped under the bed. Reaching for it, his hand brushed against something hard. Presley knelt down to peer under the antique bed. A briefcase had been tucked against the wall. He snagged the handle and dragged it out.

  With his heart thudding in his chest, he glanced at the window. He had to get out of there with the briefcase. It was his only chance of figuring out how far SoCal would go to ruin the Rose. The voices reached a crescendo directly outside the bedroom door. Any moment SoCal would be barging through the door and Presley would be out of time.

  He flung the window open. Rain pelted the sill. Papers lifted from the desk and floated around the room. Presley looked out into the darkness, trying to gauge the distance to the ground. With the storm raging, he couldn’t see a thing. He said a quick prayer. Something along the lines of “Dear God, please don’t let me get too fucked up.” Then he held tight to the handle of the briefcase and jumped.

  * * *

  Dixie handed the cab driver a few bills as she exited the vehicle. He waited for her to close the door then sped off down the road. The rain had stopped, and the imposing B and B blazed against the dark night sky. Every light in the house must be on. Dixie shuddered at the thought of how much that electric bill must cost each month.

  She didn’t know what she might find when she arrived on the scene, but she’d expected some evidence of a brawl. Presley’s Jeep was nowhere to be found, and Chandler either hadn’t made it back yet or had already come and gone.

  With no other choice but to rap on the front door, Dixie made her way up the sidewalk. As she raised her hand to knock, the door flew open.

  Gram stood on the other side. “Where in the world have you been, child?”

  “Me?” Dixie didn’t care for the accusatory tone in her gram’s voice. “Where have you been? And where’s Presley? His shenanigans landed me at the Farley Inn without a ride home.”

  “Come inside. You missed everything.” Gram ushered her in and closed the door behind her.

  “What happened? Did you break into Chandler’s room?” Dixie didn’t know where to start with the questions. “Where are Mr. and Mrs. Knotts?”

  “They’re at the sheriff’s office talking to Deputy Walker. He figured this might somehow be related to the disappearance of Kermit’s toads and I think they’re trying to put the pieces together. I wanted to get over to the Rose to check on Kermit, but nobody knew where you were, so they thought it was best I wait here in case you showed up.” Gram led the way into a sitting room. “I tried your phone, but it went straight to voicemail.”

  “My battery died.” Dixie slumped into a chair. “Where’s Presley?”

  Gram shrugged. “No one knows. He jumped out the window and took off in his Jeep.”

  “Jumped out the window? What window? Is he okay?” Dixie stood, but Gram’s hand on her arm guided her back to her seat.

  “He must be. Landed in a clump of Texas sage. Flattened poor Beverly’s bushes, but he was lucky they broke his fall.”

  “I’ve got to find him.” Dixie fumbled with her phone. “My battery’s dead. Do you have your phone on you, Gram?”

  “Nope. You know I don’t like carrying that thing around with me everywhere.”

  “But that’s why we got it for you. For emergencies. So you could call if you needed help.”

  Gram pointed to the dead phone on Dixie’s lap. “Doesn’t look like your emergency phone is doing you much good.”

  “That’s not the point.” She stood, brushing Gram’s hand away. “What happened to Chandler? Did he show up here?”

  “Sure did.” Gram twisted her lips into a frown. “Came crashing in, madder than a wet hen. He wasn’t here but for a minute. Argued with Jim something fierce. Then Presley jumped and Chandler chased after him. Haven’t seen hide nor hair of either one of them since.”

  Dixie needed to think. If she were Presley, God help her, where would she go? A vision of his workshop seeped into her mind. That’s where he was; she knew it. “I think I know where Presley is, but I need a car.”

  “Keys to the Chevy are on the hook at home.” Gram clamped a hand to her hip. “You love him, don’t you?”

  “Who?” Dixie was already heading toward the door.

  “Your parents may treat me like a child, but I wasn’t born yesterday.” Gram stepped close. “You know who I’m talking about. Presley Walker, that’s who.”

  Dixie bit back the hysterical laughter that threatened to escape. “Don’t be silly, Gram. I barely know him.”

  “I gather you know him a lot better than some. Probably in ways his own mama and daddy don’t.” Gram lifted a brow.

  “That’s ridiculous. Presley and I are all wrong for each other.” Perfectly, stupidly, incredibly wrong. That’s probably why being with him felt so good.

  “Lovebug, you listen to me.” Gram hadn’t called her that since she was a kid. Dixie’s heart warmed at the nickname. The overwhelming need to laugh subsided. “I may not know much about the newest gadgets you want me to carry around, but I do know about matters of the heart. I’ve buried two husbands, God rest their souls, and managed to find another good man to love in my prime.”

  Dixie’s eyes watered. Her gram was the strongest person she knew.

  “We don’t always get to choose who we love, but we can choose how we love them.” She nodded. “You get what I’m saying?”

  “But Daddy—”

  “Stop right there. I know you love your daddy with all your heart. But your parents have been putting too much pressure on you since you were a little girl. We all knew Liza wasn’t going to be able to toe the line, so your daddy heaped all of his expectations on you. He had no right to do that, sugar. Your life is your own. Now get on out there and live it.”

  Dixie nodded. Gram’s words rang true. She and Presley weren’t a perfect fit, but that didn’t mean they had to be a mismatch. “I’m going to go find him, okay?”

  Gram pulled her close and kissed her cheek. “You find him, and if he’s a good man, the kind of man who will treat you well and love you the way you deserve to be loved, then you hold on tight and never let him go, okay?”

  “I love you, Gram.”

&nbs
p; “Love you too.”

  Dixie was almost out the door when she remembered something Chandler had said during dinner. “Hey, do you remember somebody name Leroy Bristol, who used to live around here?”

  Gram put a hand to her chest. “Now there’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time.”

  “So you do?”

  “Oh, Leroy Bristol. Honey, we don’t have enough time tonight. He used to live out on the edge of town. Was a real troublemaker back in the day.” Realization dawned, transforming her features. “Oh my word. Leroy Bristol is SoCal’s uncle, isn’t he?”

  “Great-uncle.” Dixie put her hand on Gram’s shoulder. “Do you need to sit down?”

  “No. I just can’t believe I didn’t put two and two together on my own. It all makes sense now.”

  “What?” It might make sense to her, but Dixie was growing more confused by the second, and she didn’t have time to spare to figure it all out.

  “Leroy Bristol and Duke Walker. That’s Presley’s granddad, you know. The two of them got into it one night at the Rose. By that time Leroy had left Holiday to play fiddle for some big-time country star. He came back, all full of himself too.”

  “What happened?” And what did that have to do with Chandler and his great-uncle trying to take over massive amounts of land in Holiday?

  “You know how those boys like their poker games. Duke caught Leroy cheating. Leroy denied it and started a huge fight. Knocked over one of the lanterns outside, and the front porch of the Rose burned down. The Holiday family banned Leroy from ever entering the Rose again, and he left town right after.”

  “So that’s why he wants to build a huge honky-tonk right next door. To put the Rose out of business once and for all.” Dixie’s shoulders slumped. She needed to find Presley. “I’ve got to go. Do you want me to go get the car and come back for you to take you home?”

  “Are you kidding? I’ll make Jim run me home after he and Beverly get back. I can’t wait to hear what kind of questions they get asked at the sheriff’s station.”

  “Okay. I’ll meet you back at home later.” Dixie pulled open the door, ready to make the fifteen minute walk back to Gram’s in half the time.

  “Take your time, hon. I’m not planning on waiting up.”

  How could her grandmother have produced a child like her mother? Some days Dixie spent more time pondering that thought than others. But not tonight. Tonight was for finding Presley. She had to know he was okay. Once she held him in her arms, she’d be able to focus on what to do next. Whatever it was, they’d do it together.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  It was all there in black and white. Correspondence between SoCal and his great-uncle filled the briefcase. Memos. Who sent memos anymore? Hadn’t the old man ever heard of email? By the time Presley had skimmed the majority of the documents, he’d pretty much figured out their plan. Buy up the land surrounding the Rose and build a country and western theme park with a brand-new technotronic honky-tonk right smack-dab in the middle of it all.

  But why? That’s the part that still had him stymied. He tried Dixie’s phone again. Straight to voicemail. At least Cash had called a little bit ago and reported that Chandler had blazed out of town in the powder-blue Caddy. One of the deputies had stopped him on the highway doing ninety-eight in a seventy. Presley figured a speeding ticket was an appropriate parting gift.

  The paperwork even left a trail Presley assumed would lead to the missing toads. If he could just get a hold of Dixie, he’d swing by to pick her up so they could head out and take a look for themselves.

  He was about to get in the Jeep and start searching for her himself when the sound of a vehicle coming down the gravel road to his granddad’s old shop startled him. A classic red-and-white Chevy stopped in the drive. Dixie got out, caught sight of Presley, and ran around the car to fling herself into his arms. He caught her, lifting her butt as she clasped her legs around him.

  It took a few minutes of kissing to make sure she was really there in his arms. “Where have you been?” he asked, finally managing to pull back far enough to speak.

  “I got stranded at the Farley Inn. Dinner was awful. He heard my end of our conversation and went flying out of there.”

  “Yeah, I figured. How did you know where to find me?”

  “You told me about this place the other night after we—” Her gaze shifted to her feet.

  “After we made love.” He tipped her chin up so she’d meet his gaze.

  “Is that what it was?” she whispered.

  “Not what it was, Fireball. What it is. What it’s going to be. You all in on this with me?” He had to know.

  “Gram gave me some good advice tonight.”

  “Oh yeah? I’ve gotten to know your gram over the past several days, and that doesn’t surprise me. She doesn’t seem to be shy about sharing her hard-earned experience with anyone. What did she say?” He pulled her close, taking the moment to nudge his nose into her hair. If he lived to be a thousand years old, he’d never tire of the scent of her shampoo.

  “She said you can’t always choose who you fall in love with, but you can choose how to love them.”

  “That right there is million-dollar advice.”

  “You think so?”

  “I know so. It’s true then, isn’t it?”

  Dixie peered up at him through long lashes. “What’s true?”

  “You must love me.” He shrugged, enjoying the shock on her face. “Don’t laugh now. I know you want to.”

  She bit her bottom lip. “I never want to laugh in moments like this. It just happens.”

  “Then kiss me. You can’t laugh if you’re kissing me.”

  She did, telling him with her mouth what she wasn’t ready to say yet with words. And he told her right back. Dixie was right. Nonverbal communication could be downright satisfying.

  “I hate to end our private party, but”—Presley lined his nose up with hers—“I think I know where the toads are.”

  “You do?” Dixie jerked backward and took him by the hand, dragging him toward the car. “Why didn’t you say so? Let’s go. We need to get Kermit off the roof.”

  “Okay. But give me the keys. I’ve got to get behind the wheel of this baby.”

  Dixie tossed him the keys and waited while he opened the door for her.

  “This is going to be a good night, Dixie King.” With her by his side, SoCal out of the picture, and a souped-up V8 rumbling underneath him, how could it be anything but?

  * * *

  The Chevy eased to a stop in front of the remains of a dilapidated old farmhouse.

  “Are you sure this is the place?” Dixie asked.

  Presley pointed to the side of the road where a dented mailbox perched on a tilted post with “Bristol” scrawled across the side in faded white letters. “I think this is it.”

  “You didn’t happen to bring a flashlight, did you?” She climbed out of the passenger side into some tall grass. Who knew what might be slithering around by her feet?

  “Just my phone.” A thin beam sliced through the darkness. “You want to come back when it’s light out?”

  Why hadn’t he suggested that twenty minutes ago? “As long as we’re here, we may as well make sure this is where the toads are. I don’t think they’ll all fit in the trunk, so we’ll have to come back later anyway, right?”

  “Yeah. Watch your step.” Presley took her by the elbow, guiding her past some rusty farming implements.

  “Do you think this is where Chandler grew up?” She didn’t pay that much attention back then to where her classmates lived. Unless they were on her bus route, folks were too spread out for a kid her age to care.

  “I think his family lived closer to town. But maybe this is his uncle’s old place.”

  Dixie picked her way through the grass, being sure to stick close to Presl
ey. She couldn’t help but wonder how the house had fallen into such disrepair. It was a shame too. From what she could tell, it looked like it had been a nice place at one point in time.

  “I’m going in.” Presley reached the front porch first.

  Thankful for the promise of solid footing, Dixie skipped up the steps. “I’ll wait here.”

  Presley paused. “Chicken?”

  She shook her head. “It’s not chicken I’m worried about. It’s what you’re going to find on the other side of that door.”

  “Chicken,” Presley muttered, more to himself than to her.

  The door squealed on rusty hinges, and then he was gone, swallowed up by the darkness inside.

  Dixie tapped her foot, hummed a little tune, and hugged herself tightly while she waited for him to return. It had to be almost midnight. The storm had moved on, but clouds still hung overhead, blocking out any light from the moon. Her eyes hadn’t adjusted to the darkness yet, and as she peered out from the porch, she could have sworn she saw all kinds of creatures lurking in the darkness.

  Tired of waiting, she moved toward the door. “Presley?” She pushed the heavy door open with her foot. “Are you in there?”

  “Boo!” He jumped out from behind the door, holding his phone under his chin and looking like a ghoul.

  “Don’t do that to me!” Her heart thundered through her chest. “You could have scared me into last week.”

  He wrapped his arms around her waist. “Hell, if I did, none of this would have happened yet.”

  She didn’t relax into him right away. A scare like that required a few minutes’ grudge.

  His hand pressed over her heart. “Your heart’s pounding away in there.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to give you a fright. Good news though. As far as I can tell, all of Kermit’s toads are in there.”