One Texas Cowboy Too Many (Burnt Boot, Texas)

by Carolyn Brown

  “I meant what I said,” Mavis finally said.

  “I don’t doubt it for a minute, but like I said, I’m old enough to make my own decisions,” Leah said.

  Supper seemed like it lasted an hour, when in reality it was barely thirty minutes. When Leah had swallowed her last bite of chocolate cake, she excused herself and went straight to her room. Throwing herself back on her bed, she stared at the ceiling. Things had sure gotten to be a tangled mess in a few short days.

  Her phone rang at eight thirty. She figured it was Honey or Kinsey calling to quarrel with her for sitting on the riverbank with Rhett. As fast as rumors traveled, it surprised her that Mavis didn’t mention it at the supper table.

  “Hello, and if you called to fuss at me, then you can hang up now.”

  “Trust me. I’m not going to fight with you.” Rhett chuckled.

  His deep drawl sent a shiver down her spine. “Hello, Rhett.”

  “Hi, Leah. Want to go for a midnight ride on my cycle?”

  Her breath caught in her chest. “Not tonight. Can I have a rain check?”

  “Sure you can. Did you save my phone number?”

  She nodded.

  “Anytime you want to change your mind and go for a ride, you call me and I’ll come and get you,” he said.

  “Where’s Dammit?”

  “Right here, but you don’t get to talk to him tonight. This is my time. Where are you right now?”

  “In my bedroom.”

  “Can you see the moon out the window?”

  “Yes, I can.”

  “So we’re lookin’ at the moon and stars together?”

  “I guess we are,” she said.

  “Tell me about your students,” he said.

  “They’re fourth graders, which means that all bodily functions are funny to the boys, and the girls are at that age where there’s lots of giggling and whining but not much in between. They aren’t babies anymore, but they aren’t to the puberty stage, so they’re a lot of fun.”

  “Kind of like they’re old enough to give up that teddy bear at night but not old enough to want to really put it in the closet?” he drawled.

  “Exactly,” she said.

  “I like it when you smile.”

  “What makes you think I’m smiling?”

  “Your voice changes when you smile, and I like that,” he answered.

  “Oh really?” she asked.

  “And now you’re really smiling big,” he said.

  “Is that one of your pickup lines?”

  “No, ma’am. Just an observation.”

  “Tell me the story about those horns on your motorcycle,” she said.

  “That’s a third-date story, but I will tell you about the time I decided to go from Comfort, Texas, up to the Palo Duro Canyon for a long weekend ride.”

  She settled back against the pillows on her bed. “I’d love to hear that story.”

  “It was the weekend after Thanksgiving, and the weather was supposed to be cold but clear. A blizzard blew in about the time I dropped down into the canyon, and the trip down and out that should have taken two hours took about nine hours, and they were closing the roads behind me when I finally made it into Claude, Texas. There was one motel with one room left, and believe me, darlin’, I didn’t care how many stars it had as long as it had hot water and warm blankets.”

  Goose bumps popped up on her arms as she imagined how cold he must have been. “Holy smoke, Rhett! It’s a wonder you didn’t get frostbite. Was that two winters ago? I remember that storm. It was horrible. We got in on the tail end of it.”

  “I was pretty damned cold. I shed my clothes at the door, stood under a warm shower until I could feel my hands and feet again, and then dived under the covers on the bed and slept for twelve straight hours. I spent four days in that hotel and would have stayed longer, but Sawyer came to rescue me. We put my cycle in the bed of his truck and he drove me home. I haven’t done a lot of winter travel on the cycle since them.” He laughed.

  She liked the way his deep Texas drawl was expressed even in his laughter. It was like warm, silky lotion on her skin after a long, lingering bath.

  Three hours later, she looked at the clock and gasped. “Rhett, it’s eleven thirty.”

  “I don’t turn into a pumpkin at midnight. Do you?”

  She laughed. “No, but we should end this call now.”

  “Then good night, Leah. I loved talking to you.”

  “Me too,” she said.

  Chapter 4

  Sirens woke Rhett. He sat straight up in bed and glanced at the nightstand, thinking it was part of his dream and that the noise was really his phone or the alarm clock. The phone was dark; the clock said it was five minutes past midnight.

  He bailed out of bed, pulled on his jeans, and stomped his feet down into his boots. The emergency vehicle had gone toward the general store and the bar, and they’d need all the help they could get.

  He met Jill and Sawyer in the living room. Both fully dressed even if they were sleepy eyed. A lamp had been turned on, but there were still deep shadows and an eerie feeling about the room. Rhett could have sworn he smelled smoke, so that meant fire and that it wasn’t far away. Jill had the phone to her ear and Sawyer paced.

  “Is it the store or the bar?” Jill asked and paused slightly while she listened. “Well, thank God for that.”

  She hit a button and shoved the phone back into her pocket. “It’s not our place. The Gallaghers’ school is burning. Aunt Gladys says that the fire department isn’t going to try to put it out because it’s too far gone. They’ll watch it all night and let it burn completely to the ground so the cleanup will be easier,” Jill said.

  “Couldn’t they save any of it?” Rhett asked.

  “Aunt Gladys said that by the time anyone knew there was a fire, it was completely engulfed in flames. The Gallaghers are already blaming the Brennans, so I guess the feud is about to get hot and heavy again.” Jill yawned.

  “This may top the last battle that folks called the ‘pig war,’” Sawyer said.

  A heavy knock on the door startled all three of them.

  “Aunt Gladys,” Jill said and started that way.

  “I don’t really care about the fire. I’d rather go back to bed.” Sawyer covered a yawn with the back of his hand.

  “Is Rhett O’Donnell here?” a big, deep voice filtered through the shadows. The smell of smoke preceded the policeman into the room.

  “I’m Rhett.” He stepped forward.

  The man wore a sheriff’s patch on his uniform. Shorter than both Rhett and Sawyer, he had broad shoulders and a spare tire that said he enjoyed his meals. His eyes were serious and his mouth set in a firm line.

  “I’m Sheriff Orville Dawson and I have a few questions for you.”

  “Yes, sir,” Rhett said.

  “Where were you all evening?”

  “Right here on Fiddle Creek.”

  “And this afternoon?” Sheriff Orville asked.

  “Fishing in the river until chore time.”

  “Did you set that fire that burned down the Gallagher school?”

  Jill raised her voice. “Hell no, he did not!”

  “I’m askin’ him, Jill.” Sheriff Orville frowned.

  Rhett locked eyes with the sheriff and said, “I did not.”

  “Well, you were fishing with Leah Brennan. Who’s to say that you weren’t conspiring to burn down the school in retaliation for the last thing that happened in the feud?” the sheriff asked.

  “I can vouch for my cousin. He’s been right here all evening,” Sawyer said.

  “When was the last time you actually laid eyes on him? It’s only about three miles to the school. He could have crawled out a bedroom window and jogged that far, set the fire, and been back in bed when the sirens started,” Sheriff Orville said.

  “I could have. I could have done lots of things, but I did not leave Fiddle Creek from the time that I stopped fishing and came back here to do the ev
ening chores. I’m not an arsonist, Sheriff, and I’ve been right here in this bunkhouse since about eight o’clock. That’s when Dammit, my dog, wanted to go outside and I stood on the porch while he watered down a couple of trees. And, yes, I was fishing this afternoon. Leah Brennan was fishing too, but it was a coincidence that we both showed up there, and I assure you, sir, we were not conspiring to do anything other than catch a few fish.”

  “And I stood on the porch with him when he let the dog out to go take a piss,” Sawyer said.

  “There’s a lot of time between eight and midnight,” Orville said.

  “Yes, there is,” Rhett said.

  “Don’t leave town. I’m going to talk to Leah Brennan right now. If there are holes in your story—”

  “Sheriff, I was on the phone with Leah until eleven thirty tonight,” Rhett said. “I don’t think she could have jogged to the Gallagher school and set fire to it either.”

  Orville crossed his arms over a belly that hung out over his belt. “So that’s the way it is. Y’all are going to be each other’s alibi. That looks damn suspicious to me.”

  “It’s the truth. We were talking until almost midnight. You can ask her if you want, but she’ll tell you the same thing,” Rhett said.

  “I’m sure she will. Like I said, don’t leave town.” He turned and slammed the door behind him as he left.

  “Wouldn’t dream of it,” Rhett mumbled.

  “You’re wadin’ into some mighty deep water,” Sawyer said when the sheriff had left.

  “I can swim,” Rhett said. “Is there any of that chocolate cake left, Jill? I’m hungry, and it’ll take the taste of the smoke out of my mouth.”

  “Yes, half the cake is left, in the kitchen. Rhett, were you really talking to Leah that long?” Jill asked.

  “Yes, I was, and, yes, we did wind up at the same spot and went fishing together, and, no, we were not making out but we did share one very brief and very sweet kiss. We didn’t mention it when we were talking though, and I’m afraid it was too soon and spooked her more than a little bit so I will go slower from now on,” Rhett answered on the way to the kitchen.

  * * *

  Mavis Brennan was sitting at the dining room table with Sheriff Orville Dawson when Leah made it downstairs to breakfast the next morning. She caught the faint whiff of smoke and frowned.

  “Orville, what brings you out this early?” She headed toward the buffet where breakfast had been set up and kept warm.

  “The Gallaghers’ school burned last night. Didn’t you hear the sirens?” he asked.

  “No, I was on the phone with a friend until late, and then I took a long shower and had music playing. I guess it muffled the sounds,” she said.

  “Who was the friend?” Orville asked.

  Leah smeared cream cheese over a bagel and laid it on a plate along with a piece of sausage and two strips of bacon. “Why?” she asked.

  Orville picked up his coffee and sipped it. “Rumor has it that you were down at the river all afternoon yesterday with Rhett O’Donnell. I reckon the Gallaghers think you done went into cahoots with that wild cowboy and y’all conspired together to burn down their school.”

  Leah didn’t flinch. “Yes, we did wind up at the same fishing hole and we did talk last night, but we did not burn down anything.”

  Her grandmother’s eyes flashed with anger, and Leah expected a tongue-lashing right there before she could even eat her breakfast. But Mavis turned her gaze to Orville.

  “Anything else, Sheriff?” Mavis asked.

  “Yes, ma’am. I want to know what you were doing between eight and midnight last night.”

  “Me or Leah?”

  “Both,” he answered.

  “I was right here in this house. My door was open and Russell was in the office until midnight. I was in and out of that room until maybe eleven, when I went to bed. That enough of an alibi for you?”

  Orville leaned across the table as far as his gut would allow. “I know the Brennans did this. Maybe it wasn’t Rhett O’Donnell and Leah. Maybe you didn’t do it yourself, Mavis, but you sanctioned it, and some of your other relatives did the dirty deed.”

  “Prove it,” Mavis said.

  “What will the Gallaghers do about their kids and school?” Leah asked.

  “They’re going to send them to public school this year and decide later what to do about putting up a new building,” he answered. “If I ever find enough proof, Mavis Brennan, to justify a warrant or an arrest, your family is going to spend some time behind bars.”

  Mavis pointed a long finger at Orville. “Find the proof before you come back here accusing my family of anything.”

  The minute he was outside the house, she turned to Leah. “I meant what I said yesterday. This is your last warning, Leah.”

  “I’m almost thirty, Granny. I reckon I can make my own decisions about who I talk to and who I go fishin’ with,” Leah said.

  “And I will judge who lives in this house and on River Bend,” Mavis shot right back at her.

  “Guess we’ll have to abide by each other’s right to do that, won’t we?” Leah said.

  “What happened to you this week, Leah? You’ve always been the good granddaughter, the one with her head set solidly on her shoulders. Don’t let some wild cowboy ride into Burnt Boot on a damn motorcycle and turn your thinking into mush,” Mavis said.

  “Maybe the good granddaughter is tired of being good,” Leah whispered.

  “Well, she’d best learn that her granny has spoken, and when I speak, it’s the law on River Bend. You cut that cowboy loose, or you’re going to be finding another place to live and another job too.”

  “You’d fire me from the school as well as kick me out?” Leah asked.

  “Now you’re finally beginning to understand,” Mavis told her.

  “I can’t believe you’re threatening me, Granny. Rhett is a good man and he’s a rancher. Kinsey is dating a lawyer and Honey has dated all kinds of men. You haven’t acted like this with them,” Leah argued.

  “I’m still mad that Sawyer O’Donnell swept in and took Jill away from us. We could have had Fiddle Creek if he’d kept his sorry ass in Comfort, Texas. Or better yet, if his cousin, Finn, hadn’t come to Burnt Boot. That’s what started all this, anyway. Now there’s a third one of them O’Donnells in town and I’m not havin’ one of them in the Brennan family. And that’s not a threat, Leah. It’s a promise. You either back away, or I’ll make good my word.”

  Mavis Brennan’s round face was stone cold. Her blue eyes, set in a bed of wrinkles, did not leave room for argument. She reached up and patted her stovepipe-black hair into place.

  “I guess we’ve both laid our cards out on the table,” Leah said.

  “Yes, we have. The difference is I’m holding the winning hand. Right now I’ve got a meeting with my grandsons. You think about what I said.”

  “Oh, I will, Granny. I certainly will.”

  “Good. I trust that your good judgment will override your hormones.”

  Mavis left the table and Leah fished her phone from the back pocket of her pair of designer jeans. She flipped through several windows before she found the right one and dialed the superintendent/principal of the Burnt Boot public school.

  “Hello, Wanda, this is Leah Brennan. I heard that the Gallagher school burned and that the public school is going to take in the students that had been going there. Y’all are going to need more teachers,” she said.

  Leah had been in charge of the eight- to ten-year-old Sunday school class for years and Wanda helped her out almost every Sunday. They weren’t best friends, but like most folks in Burnt Boot, they knew each other well.

  “Yes,” the woman said quickly. “I don’t even need to interview you. There have already been more than a dozen Gallaghers in here this morning, and more have called to get their kids enrolled. I’m surprised that you called, Leah, but the answer is yes. I know you’re a good teacher and I’ll gladly hire you right now. We’ve o
nly got three weeks until school starts, and we’re going to be scrambling for extra teachers. But why do you want to leave the Brennan school?” Wanda asked.

  “Thought I might like a change,” Leah said.

  “Well, I’m glad you want a change. I’d like to put you down to teach fourth grade. Let me know by noon, and I’ll get the contract ready for you to sign,” Wanda said.

  Leah inhaled deeply and let it out slowly. “I’ve thought about it long enough. I’ll take the job. Thank you for offering it to me. You reckon the Gallaghers will have a fit about a Brennan teachin’ their kids?”

  “I’ll put those kids in with the other fourth-grade teacher and give you the ones who aren’t Gallaghers. Hey, I heard that you and that cowboy who’s gone to work for Gladys at Fiddle Creek are an item now. That got anything to do with this decision?”

  “Rumors can sure stretch things out of proportion, can’t they?” Leah chuckled.

  “You didn’t answer me, but it doesn’t matter. I’m glad to have someone like you on our staff,” Wanda said.

  “Think you can keep this under your hat for a few hours?” Leah asked.

  “I can until noon. We’ve got an emergency school board meeting then,” Wanda answered.

  The next call Leah made was to her own principal, Matthew Brennan. “Hey, Matt. How are things at the school?”

  “Wouldn’t know. I’m on my way to a meeting with Granny. She’s afraid the Gallaghers are going to retaliate for the burning.”

  “Did we do it?” Leah asked.

  “Doesn’t matter. We got the blame for it,” Matthew said.

  “I didn’t ask that. I asked if we did it.”

  “You know the family creed, Leah. When Granny says do something, we do it and we don’t talk about it, or else the law would come down on us. I can tell you that I did not do it, but I can’t tell you the Brennans didn’t do it,” Matthew said. “What can I do for you?”

  “I’m handing in my resignation today. The public school has offered me a job and I’m taking it,” she said.

  He gasped. “You can’t do that.”

  “I just did. Amanda has finished her degree and is looking for a job. Give her my classroom. I’ll be in this morning to clear it out and hand in my keys,” she said.