“I’ll get dressed to go to town and be out in ten minutes,” Betsy said.
Declan finished his coffee with a gulp and said, “And I’m going to the tack room for supplies.”
“I’ll have this kitchen in shape by the time you get back out here.” Lottie grinned.
* * *
“Okay, girl, spill the beans right now,” Lottie said when they were settled into Betsy’s truck. “I know about the bet and about what went on at the bar last night and that you have a right to be mad at him. But I want to know the whole story.”
“How did you find out?”
“Rosalie called Polly soon as the bar closed up. That Polly and Gladys can stay up until midnight and sleep all the way to eight o’clock. Not me. I’m yawning at nine o’clock and can’t sleep a wink past four thirty. Five o’clock is sleeping in to me. So anyway, Rosalie called Polly, and Polly got up to go to the bathroom at four thirty, so she called me to see if I knew anything more about it. You should know that you or Declan can’t burp without everyone in Burnt Boot talkin’ about what y’all had for dinner. Y’all and Honey and that preacher are the talk right now,” Lottie answered.
“You want to hear hanky-panky and all?” Betsy asked.
“You think me and Leland didn’t enjoy a little of that when we were young? Just because I’m old and wrinkled now don’t mean that we didn’t like going to bed in the middle of the day for a little fun or that I didn’t enjoy it. So talk to me.”
Betsy bit her lower lip. “Does what I’m going to say put Declan or me in first position?”
“What you do with your personal life don’t have a lot to do with whether you can run a ranch, so no, it’s not going to have much to do with my decision about who gets to buy the Double L. But you are about to explode, girl, and if you don’t talk, the top of your head is going to blow your brains all over this pretty truck. You know what? I might buy a pink golf cart when I get to Florida. They tell me that’s what the old toots ride around in down there. You goin’ to talk, or am I goin’ to have to slap the fizzles right out of you to get you started?”
“You already know most of it. Tanner and Declan got into it about their womanizing ways during a poker game and made a bet. Whoever lost had to make the next woman who came into the bar fall in love with him by Christmas. Declan lost, and I was the woman,” Betsy said.
“And what happened? Did he ask you out?”
“No, he went to the river, and I showed up on that same night because I needed to think about Christmas. Angela was crying because she wants her new baby boy, Christian, to be baby Jesus in the church program, and I talked to Rosalie and, well, I just wound up on the banks of the river,” she said.
“And you got to talking about Christmas and came up with the idea to gather up stuff so Angela wouldn’t be disappointed, right?”
Betsy inhaled deeply. “A week from Sunday, Kyle is going to announce it in church, and there will be a program on the Wednesday night before Christmas. You’ll still be here, right?”
Lottie’s gray bun bounced up and down as she nodded emphatically. “What a wonderful thing you kids have done for the church. I don’t fly out until Thursday, and your last job is going to be taking me to the Dallas airport. I have already fixed things so my lawyer can take care of the money deal and put it in my new Florida account.”
Betsy thought she’d dodged a bullet by talking about Christmas, but she was dead wrong. Lottie’s eyebrows knit together in a solid line and she said, “Now about this hanky-panky? Was that all there was to it, or did you fall in love with Declan? Last time that happened, they took the man out and hung him from what I hear about history. I can’t just remember if it was a Gallagher or a Brennan that got hung though.”
“I don’t know,” Betsy said.
“Hard to trust your heart to someone who’s used you as a bet and who’s a Brennan, right?” Lottie asked. “Before you answer, maybe you ought to know that he paid Tanner the thousand dollars and called off the bet a few days ago.”
Betsy frowned. “He did what?”
“Yep, Polly got that news last night when Tanner was leaving in a huff. Said he didn’t know why you were in such a huff because he’d won the bet. He was bragging that Declan knew he couldn’t ever get you to go out with him so he just paid up even before Christmas so he could go chasin’ some other skirt that had caught his eye. You hear of him goin’ after another woman? I haven’t,” Lottie said.
Betsy shook her head. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not still mad.”
“You got a right to be mad for a time. Take as long as you need to get over it, but don’t let the anger ruin your life. Now let’s go to that little dress shop down there by the Big Lots store. I like pants with elastic in the waist and shirts that button up. Old woman like me has trouble with them pullover things and gettin’ my britches down when it’s time to go to the bathroom if I have to unzip and unbutton them.”
* * *
Declan threw a roll of barbed wire in the back of the old truck along with stretchers, an extra pair of gloves, and half a dozen metal fence posts in case he had to replace one of the wooden ones. Then he drove about five hundred yards through the snow to a place where he could park, got out, and started walking back, checking posts and barbed wire all the way. When that much stood the test, he went back to the truck and had gotten inside when he saw his father pull off the side of the road and stop.
They met at the fence line, Russell on one side, Declan on the other—clones of each other with twenty-five years and a few pounds extra on Russell.
“Heard there was a little dustup at the bar last night. That true that you and Tanner had a bet?”
Declan nodded. “It’s true but I lost and paid him several days ago.”
“Never did ask Betsy out?”
“It’s complicated,” he answered.
“She’s a Gallagher. You know you can’t trust them. Tanner probably had a bet with her that she couldn’t get you to fall for her. I bet he made a thousand dollars off her too and that’s what made her mad enough to dump beer on his head. Your grandmother is elated that there’s trouble in the Gallagher camp. She says for you to drop whatever you’re doing and come home to River Bend.”
Declan removed his black cowboy hat and cocked his head to one side. “And what do you say, Dad?”
Russell’s gloved hand crossed the fence and came to rest on Declan’s shoulder. “The same thing that I said when you left. Follow your heart. I wish I’d done that all those years. You in love with Betsy?”
“I could be,” Declan said. “But a fat lot of good that will do me now. You really think that Tanner was playing a double game?”
“I wouldn’t put nothing past him. Whatever you decide, you keep your guard up with him. So I reckon you are stayin’ put for a while longer even though you have to walk the fence line in the middle of snow?” Russell removed his hand.
“I’m not letting her win and get the ranch. I want it too bad, and you always said a fence needed to be checked three times a year,” Declan told him.
Russell gave a brief nod. “That’s right. Winter, summer, and once more, especially if it’s a wet spring. You did listen to a few things, Son. Holler at me if you need anything other than walking a fencerow in three inches of cold snow. That I’m not willin’ for.”
“Thanks, Dad, for understanding,” Declan said.
“Glad we had such a good talk.” Russell waved as he walked back to his truck.
* * *
Betsy walked into the bar that evening and went straight to the jukebox and put enough coins in the slot to play six songs. Then she poked the numbers in to play Terri Clark’s “I Just Wanna Be Mad.” While the first song played, she found a bar stool and pointed at the Jameson.
Rosalie poured two fingers in a red cup and set it on the bar in front of her and made change for the b
ill that Betsy gave her. “So I guess from the song you just picked out, you want to be mad for a while longer. You sending a message to Tanner, Declan, or the whole Gallagher and Brennan clans? I’ve heard all kinds of rumors.”
“Biggest rumor?” Betsy sipped the whiskey.
“That Tanner was bettin’ with both of you and wound up with two thousand dollars. Second biggest is that Declan really won the bet, but he fell in love with you and that’s why he paid off Tanner, so he could ask you out on a real date. Either one of them true?”
Betsy shrugged. “First one isn’t. I did not have a bet with Tanner. You’d have to ask Declan for answers to the second one, not me.”
“Holy smokes! That song is coming on again,” Rosalie said.
Betsy held up six fingers. “It’s going to play for the next twenty minutes. Six times in all. Some men are dense. Like second grade students, they need lots of repetition to get the message.”
“Well, he ought to get the message that you aren’t going to drive a stake through his heart but that he’d best give you some space,” Rosalie said.
Terri sang that she wasn’t ready to make up, that she thought she was right and he was wrong and not to try to make her smile because she wanted to be mad for a while. Betsy tapped her fingers on top of the bar, keeping up with the beat through every song. When the last one finished, the whole crowd applauded.
Declan made his way through the crowd and went to the jukebox, plugged in a fistful of coins, and poked a few buttons, then raised his red cup in a salute toward Betsy.
“I think he got the message.” Rosalie smiled. “Another whiskey?”
“No, maybe a club soda,” Betsy said. “I want to be sober.”
Jamie O’Neal started singing “When I Think about Angels” and Betsy glanced across the room at Declan, who winked. The lyrics said that everything about her was a beautiful distraction and everywhere he went or everything he did made him think about her, and that when he thought about heaven, he thought about angels, and when he thought about angels, he thought about her. A girl was singing, but Betsy heard it as a song from a guy because Declan had played it for her.
The next song came from Sammy Kershaw—“She Don’t Know She’s Beautiful”—and Rosalie smiled. “I think y’all need to talk, rather than fighting with the jukebox.”
“Not yet. I’m not done being mad,” Betsy said.
Rosalie went to the other end of the bar and drew a beer for a customer, then made her way back to Betsy. “Got to admit, it would take more than twenty-four hours for me to get over that too. I hear that Mavis is crowing now that John and Honey are an item and this new battle in the feud has been dubbed the love war. Kind of fitting here at Christmas.”
“I could care less about the love war,” Betsy declared.
“Sounds to me like you might be the biggest star in this war.” Rosalie laughed. “A preacher and Honey wouldn’t be anything like a Gallagher and a Brennan falling in love.”
“You know what love is?” Betsy asked.
“Trust?” Rosalie said.
“It’s a four-letter word, and I’ve been warned many times about those damn things.”
Tanner propped a hip on the bar stool beside her and motioned for Rosalie to bring a pitcher of beer. “Betsy,” he said softly.
“If you’re planning on pouring that on my head, I wouldn’t,” she said coldly.
“I came to apologize. I should have told you or put an end to the bet when you came in the bar that night, but it would’ve been letting a Brennan defeat me,” he said.
“Did you hear that song I just played six times? Do I need to play it another six? I’m mad, and it’s going to take me a long time to get over it,” she said.
Tanner put up his palms. “Will you call me when you’re over it?”
“It might take fifty years.”
He dropped his hands. “That’s a long time to carry a grudge.”
“That was a nasty thing you did. You caused this, and I hope Granny punishes you.”
Eli started across the room, and she gave him an evil look that stopped him in his tracks. He went back to the jukebox and chose half a dozen Christmas songs, but even that didn’t sweeten her mood.
“Tell me you didn’t really go out with Declan. Please promise me that you didn’t…” Tanner stopped. “You didn’t really fall for that line of bull he puts out, did you? It’s all a lie.”
“And you know because you use the same lines, right? All of you are pigs from hell. You wouldn’t know love if it bit you square on the ass. Rosalie, I need a burger basket, double meat, double cheese, lots of onions, so I can breathe on these sorry suckers who want to sit close to me and talk,” Betsy said.
Tanner started to walk away but stopped when Betsy tapped him on the shoulder.
“One more thing, darlin’ Cousin. I’m not promising anything and I’m not telling you just what we did do in that big, king-size hotel bed.”
His face went pale. “When Granny hears that, she’ll send one of us gunnin’ for Declan.”
“And if a single one of you lays a hand on a hair on his head, you will answer to my shotgun. I mean it, and you can spread the word. If anyone gets to shoot him, it will be me, and I haven’t decided if I want him dead yet. Understood?”
“But Granny—” he said.
“I’m meaner than Naomi Gallagher ever hoped to be and don’t you forget it.”
Rosalie chuckled. “Sounds like a love war to me. You just took up for a Brennan.”
“I didn’t take up for him. I’m saving him until I decide what his punishment is going to be. For the record, I’m still deciding what Tanner’s and Eli’s ultimate fates will be too.”
“Maybe we’d better rename this new feud the come-to-Jesus war.”
“Or come-to-Betsy war.” She finally smiled.
Chapter 23
Betsy found a note in her coat pocket on the way home that evening. It simply said, “You have a right to be mad as long as you want. When you are ready to talk, call me. Until then, know I am sorry for all this.” At the end was his phone number written in big letters.
She tried.
She really, really tried to get over it as she drove toward Lottie’s place on slippery roads. But the big, gaping cut across her heart still hurt too badly. She’d bluffed very well, but Tanner was her favorite cousin. And Declan? A lump formed in her throat.
She wasn’t ready to go home, so she made a loop around town, driving slow and looking at all the Christmas lights. The tree in front of the grocery store was still standing although the wind had tangled the garland and knocked a few of the ornaments off. The angel on the top of the tree beckoned to her with open arms, but what could a plastic angel do to relieve her heartache?
Driving past the bar again, she glanced over at the Gallagher tree. It didn’t look a whole lot different than the Brennans’—garland twisted up from the hard north winds and a few busted ornaments, but both were still standing.
The church was dark and that was a crying shame. It was Christmas. The church should be the first building in town to show the spirit, not the bar and the store. If the feud ever ended, Betsy made a vow that there would be no trees in town and that a lovely, life-size nativity scene would be placed on the church lawn.
With all the lights in town shining brightly, a soft glow covered Burnt Boot that Friday evening. It reminded her of a Thomas Kincaid picture on her grandmother’s calendar. She’d given it to Naomi for Christmas last year, and looking back, the year had been anything but peaceful and sweet. And it was ending on a note that said she might never be welcome at Wild Horse for the holidays again.
She found herself at the locked gates at the end of the road leading down to the Red River. Not sure how she’d gotten there but knowing that she could think better under her old willow tree than anywhere else, she parked t
he truck, climbed over the fence, and made her way down to the very tree where she and Declan had started this whole mess. Was it only three weeks ago? Mercy, it seemed like years.
But you’ve known him your whole life, her conscience argued as she trudged through the snow on the uneven ground.
“Which means I should have known better,” she said.
The limbs of the poor weeping willow dragged to the ground with the weight of the ice and snow, but they did provide enough cover that part of the ground under the tree was still bare. Enough that she could sit down and pretend she was in an igloo somewhere far, far away from Burnt Boot. Maybe that’s what she needed—a trip out of the forest for a few days.
“Can’t do that. I want that ranch too bad to throw in the towel now. And besides, a Gallagher does not run from problems,” she whispered.
“Neither does a Wiseman.” A branch cracked and ice filtered down on her boots as Declan pushed his way uninvited into her Texas-style igloo.
He sat down and left a foot of space between them, but that didn’t stop the sparks from heating up the tiny space. If it had been natural heat, the ice would have melted in seconds, sending a shower of cold rain down on their heads. She didn’t look at him, didn’t dare, not the way the emotions were rattling around in her body. Anger and peace made strange bedfellows. Or maybe they made impossible bed partners because she couldn’t have one when the other was present.
After several minutes of silence, he laid his gloved hand on hers.
She left hers on the sand and didn’t jerk it away because his touch brought a measure of comfort to her troubled soul. A herd of deer appeared on the other side of the river and cautiously approached the still, cold water for a drink before bounding back into the wooded area and disappearing in the mesquite and scrub oaks.
The moon tried to throw off a little light, but dark clouds kept covering it, along with the stars. Was this what it was like when baby Jesus was born in that stable more than two thousand years ago? Did the shepherds and wise men have trouble following the bright star?
A Cowboy Christmas Miracle (Burnt Boot, Texas Book 4) Page 24
