by Mae Nunn
“It’s Stella.”
“Her name means star,” Buster explained. His chest puffed out and he gave her a little pat on the back.
Stella the Pretty Star tossed her short gold hair, turned on the heel of her boot and headed into the house, letting the screen door slam behind her.
CHAPTER TWO
“IGNORE HER,” BUSTER SAID, rubbing his hands together. “You want to go for a little ride out on the range?”
“Sure, sounds great.”
“You take these coffee cups in, if you don’t mind, and I’ll go get the pumpkin.”
Joiner wondered why in the world Buster would be getting a pumpkin and how it related to their ride on the property, but he did as he was told. He was disappointed that there was no sign of Stella in the house when he set the coffee cups in the kitchen sink.
Maybe it was a good thing he didn’t run into her again. She seemed to harbor some underlying hostility toward him, although he couldn’t imagine why. It was as if he reminded her of the high school boyfriend who left her to dance with another girl at the prom.
He was sitting on the porch steps when Buster roared up on an orange Kubota ATV with Mugsy and Mitzi sitting beside him.
“Pumpkin orange,” Joiner mused aloud as he took his seat beside Mugsy on the passenger’s side. It was the same color as his Texas Longhorns.
“Stella named it.”
Buster lurched forward and soon they were bumping at full throttle across a cattle guard and out into open pasture. There were groves of loblolly pines, pencil cedars and live oaks interspersed with vast acres of grass for grazing cattle. Joiner counted five ponds as they passed, one as big as a small lake—about twenty acres—and it was on the north-forty. It would work perfectly for Joiner’s plans, and he told Buster so. The older man just nodded.
After several minutes, Buster pulled up to the edge of the spring-fed creek and cut the motor of the Kubota. The dogs jumped out to get a drink. Buster leaned back, crossing his boots on the dashboard in front of him, just to the right of the steering wheel. He gazed out across the creek. He closed his eyes and slowly breathed in and out a few times. Joiner wondered if he was praying. Then Buster turned to look at Joiner.
“Son, I’m afraid I’ve wasted your time. I can’t sell this place. Not any part of it.”
After Buster’s tour and description of this part of the property, Joiner had begun to doubt he’d be able to afford it, but he’d wanted to make an offer anyway. It was perfect for him and Pistol, whatever they decided to do. He could train and board horses, breed Pistol, teach riding; the possibilities were endless. And that was something Joiner liked—keeping his options open.
“Why not? Why did you place the ad, then?”
Buster adjusted his cowboy hat. “I can answer both of your questions with one word—Love.”
“Something tells me there’s more to it than that.” Joiner leaned closer, prompting the older man to continue.
“Son, if you think love ain’t enough, you got a lot to learn.”
Joiner could only imagine his brothers’ responses when he recounted this story. It seemed straight out of a dime-store novel about some dying breed of cowboy-philosophers. The hooting and hollering among the Temple brothers would be abundant.
Still, in the short time he’d spent with Buster, Joiner had become somewhat impressed with the older man. No one could be more outwardly different from Joiner’s own father, who’d been a doctor, even though his dad and Buster would be about the same age if Dr. Temple had still been alive. But there was a quality there that felt familiar, a certain wisdom. Joiner wondered if there were ghosts that haunted Buster, as his grandfather’s tarnished reputation had haunted his father for years.
“Love?”
“I lost my wife—Stella’s mama—when she was thirty-six years old. She was a rodeo queen who became a hands-on mother after we had Stella. Then one day she got on a horse like she did every other day, only this time she fell off and died. It was a freak accident. She was gone from us, just like that.”
Joiner shook his head. “I’m so sorry.”
“Lily was also a naturalist, loved everything homegrown. She adored this place. It belonged to her family. She rode horses all over it, had her a garden. It was her sanctuary. I was gone all the time, but I like to think because of this land she wasn’t lonely.” Buster sighed. The water rolling over the rocks in front of them seemed to sigh with him.
“She taught Stella at home. Not for religious reasons, like a lot of people around here. With her it was more for personal freedom and what she called ‘independence of thought’.” Buster smiled as he made quotation marks in the air, and then continued, “They were always into these experiments and things Stella never would have done in public school. Lily, that’s my wife, she would take her to the creek here and they’d collect jars of water and come home and identify all of the little creatures under a microscope. They’d go on walks and look up wildflowers in a book to learn their names. They hung artwork all over the house, even painted constellations on the ceiling of Stella’s room. They milked goats and made their own cheese.”
“Wow. That’s neat. And I can vouch for the fact we did not do that kind of stuff at Kilgore High School.”
“Well, I’m not knocking the school. Stella ended up graduating from there and the teachers were good to her. She was only sixteen when her mother passed.”
Joiner felt a pang, remembering how painful it had been to lose his own parents at a young age. “Is that when you retired from the rodeo?”
“Yes. I was fifty, and twenty years past a bronc rider’s prime. It was time for me to hang it up, and Stella needed the stability of a home. I couldn’t take her riding around Texas with me in that RV.”
Joiner swallowed hard. The story was a lot to take in. Finally, he said, “But what about my second question? What did love have to do with putting the land up for sale?”
“Stella. She has this dream and I wanted to make it come true. But I’m not exactly high on funds.”
“What does she want to do?”
“She wants to open a place here where kids with problems can come be with horses. ‘Equestrian therapy’ she calls it.” Buster made quote marks in the air again. “I don’t know about the fancy name, but I am a firm believer that spending time with horses is good for you. I’ve had a couple horses I like better than most people.”
“I can relate to that.” Joiner laughed. “Right now Pistol is pretty much my guiding star. Well, he and my brothers. Since my polo funds dried up, I’m at a bit of a loss as to what to do with the rest of my life. I can’t say I’ll settle down in Kilgore for good, but I’d prefer to be near my brothers while I’m figuring out my next step. And one thing’s for sure—whatever I do next will involve Pistol. We’re a package deal.”
“I like that loyalty. You know, there’s an old Spanish proverb that says a man who does not love a horse cannot love a woman.” Buster sat up, planting his boots back on the floorboard of the pumpkin. “I guess we better head for the house.”
*
THEY WERE QUIET for the ride across Buster’s 450-acre kingdom. Mugsy and Mitzi ran along beside them till Buster deemed they were tired out, then he slowed down for them to jump into the pumpkin. When the house came into view, Buster pointed out a barn to the far right of it. Joiner had noticed it when he was driving up—a big horse barn painted red, with a white star above the doors. He saw now that there was a riding arena behind it.
“That’s Stella’s setup.”
Buster didn’t go any closer. Instead, he veered left toward the house, and Joiner noticed the old RV again under the trees.
“Was that your rodeo mansion?” He pointed to it. Surprisingly, Buster drove up close.
“That’s it. We use it as a guesthouse now. Wanna see inside?”
He turned off the motor of the pumpkin without waiting for Joiner to answer. Using a key to unlock the RV, Buster held the door open for Joiner to enter. Despite t
he dust, it was surprisingly well-kept inside. Kind of like a museum dedicated to the rodeo life of yesteryear.
“You know, since I can’t sell the land, I’d consider renting the guesthouse if you can think of anyone who might be interested. Especially someone with a strong back for work and horses they’d like to board.” Buster tugged at his whiskers. “I don’t want any riffraff, though.”
Joiner didn’t tell the older man what he was thinking, that “riffraff” were the only ones who would be interested in the setup. Except, maybe, for him.
“What about me?” Joiner couldn’t believe the words had come out of his mouth, but he didn’t try to retrieve them. He liked Buster. And something, though admittedly he couldn’t see what, was drawing him to the place.
“You? A pretty boy like you?”
“Mr. Scout, I need a place to live and board my horse, and you won’t sell me any land.” Joiner kicked a clod of dirt.
“Call me Buster.”
“Okay, Buster.”
“You serious?”
“I’m not afraid of hard work. If you’ll let me board Pistol and breed him out of here maybe I can save up the money to get my own place when the right one becomes available.” Joiner raised his eyebrows and grinned at the older man. “One that is actually for sale.”
“You’re a smart aleck, you know it?” Buster held out his hand for a shake. “But I don’t mind a little of that—and I might be able to make a real cowboy out of you. It’s a deal.”
Joiner shook his hand and they hopped back into the pumpkin. Buster sped the rest of the way to the house as if he was late for a party. Joiner liked the older man’s style.
“Stella!” Buster called, opening the back door. “Pretty? Stellllaaaa!”
An image of Marlon Brando in A Streetcar Named Desire flashed through Joiner’s mind. He followed Buster into the foyer, where Buster called her again, looking up the stairs.
“I guess she ain’t in here.”
“Well, sir, if you don’t mind, I’ll just get going. I’ll start moving in tomorrow, if that’s okay.”
“I wanted to let you and Stella do some talking. You’ll mostly be working for her, you know. Getting her business up and running.”
“Oh. Well.” Joiner reached out for the banister. This was a little more than he bargained for. A mixture of curiosity and acid from his lack of breakfast churned in his stomach, but he needed the arrangement to work. He was running out of money, and no other interesting options had popped up.
Joiner straightened himself up and grinned, offering his hand to Buster again. “You just tell her I am at her service.”
The front door opened, and Stella walked in on them.
“Well, now you can tell her yourself!” Buster clapped his hands together.
“Tell me what?” Stella demanded.
“Joiner is going to live in the RV and be our new ranch hand.”
Stella took this news as if she’d been punched in the face.
“What?”
“I decided not to sell the land, but he’s going to live here and help us out on the ranch for a while.”
Stella’s eyes widened as the news sank in.
“You’re not selling?” She smiled, but her smile was for Buster only.
“No.” Buster shook his head. “But we’ve made an arrangement where he can board his horse here and help with chores, and he’ll be help to you with the school. You won’t have to pay as much for a ranch hand, and he won’t have to fork over lots of money for lodging. It’s a win-win.”
She seemed to bristle at this idea.
Buster grabbed the front doorknob and turned it. “You two probably ought to talk a little bit among yourselves. I’ve got to go check my chickens.” He let the screen door slam behind him.
What a crafty old goat, Joiner thought, hoping he hadn’t made a big mistake in agreeing to live and work here.
Stella motioned to Joiner. “I guess we could sit on the porch?”
He followed her through the screen door and sat down in one of two rockers that flanked a small table. She took the porch swing, the farthest seat away.
“So, your dad told me about your school. I think it’s a great idea.”
Her head snapped to attention. “What did he tell you?”
“Just that you want to help people through therapy with horses.”
“Did he mention safety?”
“Um, no. We didn’t really go very far into it.”
“Safety is my first concern with the school—and I saw the way you drove in here like you were in a high-speed chase.”
“I’m sorry, but—”
She continued, “I don’t know what you’re used to with polo, but I’d imagine it will be a lot different than what I’m doing here.”
Joiner was sure it would aggravate her, but he couldn’t resist. “I’m used to having fun on horses.”
She snorted. “Well, I hope my clients have fun on our horses, but my first priority is that they are safe at all times.” Her brown eyes bored into him. “It will have to be your priority too while you work here.”
“Okay,” Joiner said, and then added in his thoughts, which probably won’t be very long.
CHAPTER THREE
“YOU’RE DOING WHAT?” Mac demanded as his eyeglasses clattered to the tabletop.
The four Temple brothers sat around a table on the back patio of The Wild Horse Saloon, a honky-tonk joint that also served the best steaks in Kilgore—apart from Hunt’s restaurant at Temple Territory, of course. Most of the action was clustered around the stage inside where the band played. Locals, including students at Kilgore College, crowded the dance floor to do the Texas two-step and unwind after a busy work week.
Hunt’s wife, Gillian, and Sarah, a young widow who’d recently wed Hunt’s twin, Cullen, had taken Sarah’s three daughters to Longview for a movie. The brothers saw this as an opportunity for a Meeting of the Brotherhood, as they affectionately called their impromptu men-only gatherings. They’d been calling them that as long as Joiner could remember, when he and Mac initiated the younger twins into the clubhouse that used to be in their parents’ yard.
“I’m moving into an RV on that place I wanted to buy. Buster Scout’s place.”
Mac picked up his rectangular wire-rimmed glasses from the table and set them back on his nose, as if to see Joiner better. “The place you’re not buying? You’re going to squat there in an RV?”
Joiner shook his head. “The RV is a guesthouse of sorts on the property. Mr. Scout is renting it to me in exchange for some help on the ranch. Plus, he has a place I can board Pistol and hopefully start breeding him so I can save some money.”
“Is that what this is about? Joiner, I told you if you needed money—”
“And I appreciate that you agreed to cosign the loan with me for the land if I could buy it, but Mr. Scout decided not to sell it. And that’s probably for the best right now. I can keep what little I have left in the bank and add to it, get back on my feet. Then maybe when the right place comes along down the road, I won’t need a cosigner.”
“Sounds like a good plan to me.” Hunt’s gray eyes danced as he helped the server distribute the plates. Each brother had ordered a T-bone, but they all preferred their own degrees of doneness.
The waitress—a girl with big blond hair—studied Hunt’s face for a moment as she handed him a plate. “You look just like my favorite professor!”
Hunt grinned and flung out his arm to announce that Cullen was across the table. She promptly turned all of her attention to him.
“Dr. Temple! How are you doing? I was in your American History class last semester.” The girl made no effort to conceal her admiration.
“I remember you, Katie. It’s nice to see you again.”
When she finally exited the patio after several minutes of chatting with Cullen, Hunt cackled. Then in a falsetto voice, he said, “Oh, Dr. Cullen! Your lectures are so enthralling! I only fell asleep three times! But it’s suc
h a shame you’re not as good-looking as the Cowboy Chef!”
Cullen rolled his eyes in Hunt’s direction.
“I thought it was pretty funny that she compared the Cowboy Chef to Dr. Cullen, and not the other way around.” Joiner cut into his steak. “That must burn.”
Hunt frogged Joiner in the arm. “You just wish you were our triplet, pretty boy.”
“Well, I can tell you I don’t get admirers very often, even though I’m obviously the more attractive twin.” Cullen forked a bite of steaming baked potato that was dripping with melted butter. “Did you find out anything on the history of Buster Scout’s place while you were there?”
“Only that it belonged to his wife’s family. She died a long while ago in a freak accident with a horse, and I guess it went to him and his daughter. It’s a heck of a place.”
“I think I remember something about that accident.” Mac rubbed his chin. “It happened right after I moved back here and set up shop. I consulted with Mr. Scout over some tax issues, helped him get things with his wife’s will straightened out. Nice guy. Kind of an original, as I remember.”
“That’s him. He could have his own reality show, he and his daughter. They’re like the Texas version of characters from Duck Dynasty.”
“And now you’re joining the show.”
“Well, I would hate for Hunt to be the lone star in our family.” Joiner couldn’t resist the pun.
His three brothers groaned in unison, then Cullen asked, “What time do you want us there to help you move in the morning?”
They all looked at Joiner. He’d always been able to count on the Brotherhood, no matter what.
“Thanks, guys, but I don’t have anything to move besides a few boxes and Pistol. It won’t be any big deal.”
*
“NO BIG DEAL?” Stella, remembering her earlier conversation with her father, set down her book a little too loudly and whipped off her red reading glasses. Mugsy jumped down from the couch and regarded her with suspicion.
Buster, who had kicked back in his leather recliner, didn’t stir from his comfortable position. Mitzi was sprawled out across his chest lengthwise, snoring.
