The Trouble with Texas Cowboys

by Carolyn Brown

  She shrugged. “Thank you, but it’s not my idea. I saw Aunt Gladys do that with a pitcher of water one time when two dogs were hung up.”

  Sawyer threw back his head and roared.

  “Why is that so funny?”

  “Tonight it was two bitches all right, and they were stuck together.”

  She smiled. “Probably so, but you’re going to have to deal with both of them tomorrow. I’d rather deal with struttin’ roosters as those two. Sawyer, we are going to have to rethink the bar and store business.”

  One of his dark eyebrows shot up. “Oh, yeah?”

  “I think we’d best stay together in the store and in the bar. It’ll take both of us in both places,” she said.

  “That means very little sleep, except on Sunday.”

  “It won’t be forever. Just until Aunt Polly is on her feet again. And we could take catnaps at the store when it’s slow.”

  “Got a bed in the back room with that stove you mentioned?”

  “No, but I know where there’s a cot we could set up and take turns taking hour-long naps.” She smiled.

  “Starting right now?”

  She grabbed a bar rag and threw it over her shoulder. “You take care of the grill, and I’ll fill beer pitchers and take money.”

  Tyrell slid onto a stool and crooked his finger at Jill. “A double shot of whiskey, darlin’. You are a feisty one. You really don’t want Betsy for an enemy.”

  “Frankly, I don’t give a damn if she’s my friend or my enemy. She’s not tearing up the bar. It’s neutral, just like the store,” Jill said.

  Sawyer poured up a shot of whiskey and set it on a paper coaster in front of Tyrell.

  “Thank you,” Tyrell said, but his dark eyes were on Jill, not Sawyer or the whiskey. “Jill, darlin’, did I tell you that I’m named after the best-lookin’ Sackett brother that Louis L’Amour wrote about? Only my mama put two L’s in my name so I’d be twice the lover, but I ain’t nothing but a rough old cowboy. I do like my whiskey neat and my women beautiful, and you, darlin’, are the prettiest thing I’ve laid eyes on in years. Please don’t be mad at me for fighting in the store or at my cousin for fighting in the bar tonight. I’m sure they’ll have to call the undertaker to come haul me out of this bar feetfirst if you break our date.”

  “I’d hate to see someone as full of shit as you die in Aunt Polly’s bar, so I will go to supper with you tomorrow night.”

  “I will knock on your door promptly at five with roses in my hand.”

  “And now, Mr. Tyrell Gallagher, named after the famous Tyrel Sackett, only with two L’s in his name, I must get back to work. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  She looked back at Sawyer. Both dark-haired. Both with brown eyes. Both cowboys. What made the difference in the way they affected her? Could it be that one was full of bullshit and the other was honest?

  Tyrell picked up the whiskey and downed it in one gulp. “I believe I’ll live to dance another day with that shot and the promise of spending time with the gorgeous Jill Cleary tomorrow night.”

  “Be sure to get her home before midnight. She turns into a rabid coyote when the clock strikes twelve.” Sawyer moved on down the bar to fill a pitcher with beer.

  “That true, darlin’?” Tyrell asked.

  “Got to take the bad with the good,” Jill answered.

  * * *

  The jukebox played its last song a few minutes before eleven. The grill was cooling. Beer and margarita pitchers were in the dishwasher.

  “I’ll sweep if you’ll wipe down the tables, and then we’ll be done,” Sawyer said.

  Jill picked up the spray bottle filled with cleaner, and a couple of bar rags, and went to work. Sawyer grabbed a broom.

  He’d known her for twenty-four hours. They’d started off arguing, but had quickly worked things out until they were like old friends now. He leaned on the broom handle and stared at her, careful to go back to his job when she straightened up to go on to the next table.

  She turned the chairs upside down on the table after she’d wiped them all down, so he could have easy access for sweeping. “Better hurry up and stop taking breaks if you want to get me home by midnight, so I don’t turn into a rabid coyote.”

  “I was trying to help you out there, woman.”

  “I know that. I wish we could both go back to yesterday and undo tomorrow. I dread it.”

  “Then be a rabid coyote so neither one of them will like you,” he said.

  “Might be an idea. If you work faster, you’ll get home to that apple pie quicker. It’s cool by now, and there’s ice cream in the freezer to go with it.” She straightened up and rolled her neck to get the kinks out.

  He made a big show of sweeping faster. “Work, good woman. Work fast and hard. I’d forgotten that pie and chocolate cake await us at home. You might have to bake something more on Monday morning.”

  She flipped two of the three chairs upside down on the last table and sank into one of the remaining ones with a long sigh. “I can’t wait until Monday gets here, because then all this Sunday shit will be done with. Hell, I can’t even remember their names most of the time. What if I call a Brennan by a Gallagher’s name, or vice versa?”

  “Say the name three times and picture an animal to go with the name, so you don’t call him by the wrong feuding family name. Quaid looks like big old Angus steer to me, so picture a bull. Now the other one, Tyrell, is a wolf for sure, so picture him as that, and you’ll never forget his name.” Sawyer leaned the broom against the jukebox, sat down in the remaining chair, and propped his feet on the table.

  “Quaid the bullshit cowboy. Tyrell the hungry wolf cowboy. You’re getting my table all dirty,” she said.

  “I’ll wash it. My feet are tired. At least you are getting red roses. I’m not taking roses or any other kind of flower to Betsy or to Kinsey. Maybe they’ll take that as a slight and leave me alone.”

  She tucked a few strands of flaming red hair behind her ear. “I don’t even like roses. I said that so he wouldn’t know my favorite flower and bring them. I have a problem relating flowers to people or events, and I damn sure don’t want my favorite ones ruined by a one-date cowboy.”

  “And the favorite ones are?” Sawyer asked.

  “Daisies. They outlast roses, and they’re tough little flowers. If you tell him…”

  Sawyer held up a palm defensively. “I understand. Say no more. Want my advice?”

  “Hell, no! But I expect you are going to give it to me anyway.”

  “Maybe you’ve gotten off on the wrong foot with them, like I did,” he said. “It could be that one or both of them are really decent cowboys. Go with an open mind. Don’t think about their last name or where they live or how much money they have or how big their ranch is or even the damned feud. Just spend a little time getting to know them as the men they are, and then make up your mind which one or both or neither that you might like to see again.”

  She pinched her nose with her thumb and forefinger. “It’s going to be a long Sunday.”

  “Be nice if it was only one day.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Darlin’, you are the princess of the Fiddle Creek kingdom. Both of the kingdoms beside yours would benefit greatly from the water rights on your land, so they’re going to do their damnedest to get one of their knights in shining armor, or maybe its knight in shining pickup truck, to win your favor.”

  “Aunt Gladys has always said that neither one of those families will ever get Fiddle Creek. Maybe that’s all I need to put out on the rumor vine, and they’ll leave me alone.”

  Sawyer chuckled.

  She sat up with a start and frowned at him. “What’s so funny?”

  “You looked in the mirror lately?”

  “Of course.”

  “Enough said, then.
”

  “You best start explaining, or I’m throwing that pie out in the yard,” she said.

  “I’m repeating myself, and I won’t do it again, so listen to me, Jill Cleary. Fiddle Creek would be a nice trophy. Whoever wins gets a woman with ranching experience that looks like a trophy wife. Quaid is going to try to woo you with his good deeds. Tyrell is going to smother you with fun and flowers. The feud is officially blown wide open right now, so everything is fair. Each side wants to win, and you are the prize. It won’t be so bad, darlin’. You’ll have a big ranch, a cowboy, and a hell of a big diamond engagement ring whichever way you go.”

  “I’ll say no after tomorrow. And what about you? You’ve also got two after you,” she said.

  “Quaid and Tyrell are the knights, but the whole castle on both sides, including women, kids, and even the grandmothers are probably already plotting. I’ve got a feeling I’m part of that plot. If they can put me out of the picture, that’s one less cowboy in your world. I think I already said that, didn’t I?” Sawyer said.

  “How do you know so much about it?”

  “You can’t be in Burnt Boot two hours without hearing feud stories.”

  “Dammit!” She slapped the table hard enough that it reverberated right though his boots.

  “Now you are beginning to understand. You ready to go home now?”

  “I’m ready to go back to Brownsville and get a job making tacos in a fast food joint,” she said.

  “Ain’t neither one of us the kind to run from problems.” He stood up, wiped the table one more time, and set his chair on it. “Polly didn’t mention mopping, did she?”

  “Just a quick damp mop if there’s spills, but I don’t see any tonight. She’s got a cleaning lady that does that on Sunday when the place is closed. She takes care of the deep cleaning. All we have to do is sweep up every night.”

  “I’ll put the broom up and get our coats,” Sawyer said.

  * * *

  It was almost midnight when they reached the bunkhouse, and Jill melted into the corner of the sofa. “Just ten minutes, and then I’m going to take you up on borrowing your shower before I go to bed.”

  Sawyer went straight to the kitchen. There was only enough leftover coffee for one cup, so he popped it into the microwave. Then he cut a piece of pie big enough for two people and put it on one plate, along with two small pieces of chocolate cake. When the microwave dinged, he picked up the plate with one hand and the coffee with the other.

  “We’re sharing. I couldn’t carry three things.” He sat down right next to her and handed her the coffee.

  She put it on the end table and picked up one of the forks, ate two bites of pie, and shook her head. “I’m too tired to eat.”

  “I could feed it to you.”

  “I’m too tired to chew.”

  “Then you are on your own. I’m not doing that for you,” he said.

  She laid her head over on his shoulder and stretched out her legs until her feet were resting on the well-used coffee table. “Looks like lots of boots have been propped up on that table.”

  You are getting mighty friendly there, her inner voice chided. You never snuggled up to a man this quick before. Better watch out, or you’ll be making another mistake.

  Hush, she argued. We’re just friends, and he already gave me a foot massage. This is resting, not flirting.

  “Yep, it does look like lots of cowboys have come through this bunkhouse and done just what you’re doing. This pie is amazing. I’ll just eat all of it, since you are too tired to eat,” he said.

  “Enjoy. I could sleep right here all night.”

  “After our last twenty-four hours, it is pretty nice to be in a peaceful place where Gallaghers and Brennans aren’t welcome.”

  “Let’s make a pact.” She yawned. “Even if you like one of those brazen hussies who got a beer bath tonight, don’t bring them into the bunkhouse.”

  He kissed her on the forehead. “And if you fall for one of those sumbitches, you don’t bring them here either.”

  She snuggled down tighter. “I’m not going to fall for one of them, but I promise I won’t bring anyone into our sanctuary.”

  “Me, either,” he said.

  Chapter 5

  Jill found it impossible to keep a few inches of space between her and Quaid. That side of the church was packed with Brennan families, settled into the pews so tight that daylight couldn’t get between them. If church services lasted past the customary hour, she feared she’d smother plumb to death right there on the fourth pew between Quaid and Kinsey.

  “We’re so glad you are coming to Sunday dinner,” Kinsey whispered. “It’s been a long time since my cousin was interested in someone. We’ll have to talk about him later, and I’ll tell you how sweet and kind and wonderful he is.”

  Quaid leaned over and spoke softly in her other ear. “You were such a big help in the Sunday school class. I sure wish you would consent to help me out every Sunday. The girls in there really took to you.”

  “I need to get settled in before I make any commitments, but thank you for making me feel so welcome,” she said.

  The section on the other side of the church was filled to capacity too. She was thinking about Sawyer and how lucky he was that he hadn’t gotten roped into Sunday school, church, and dinner when she looked past him sitting in the center section. She was actually looking for red hair to see if Betsy came to church that morning, when Tyrell caught her eye. His bright smile and sly wink reminded her that the day was still young.

  The Sunday school secretary took his place behind the podium, held up a hand, and all conversation stopped. “We broke our Sunday school attendance record this morning. We haven’t had this many people in church since the Christmas programs more than a decade ago. I’m hoping you all made it your New Year’s resolution to attend church every Sunday this year.” He went on to tell about the Sunday school offering that morning and to make the announcements for the past week concerning births and deaths. Then he covered the events for the coming week: visits to the nursing home in Gainesville, a youth rally in the middle of the week that included supper in the fellowship hall, a baby shower, and a wedding shower.

  Jill caught Sawyer’s gaze when the man mentioned the youth rally. The unspoken message couldn’t be clearer. Thank God she had agreed to help man the bar all week. That would give her a damn fine excuse for not going to the rally. As if on cue, Kinsey cupped her hand over Jill’s ear and said, “I’m one of the supervisors of the youth group. I’d love to have your help at the rally. Quaid and I get pretty rushed at these things.”

  Jill mouthed, “I have to work.”

  “We could find someone else to help Sawyer at the bar for one night,” Kinsey pressed.

  Jill shook her head. “Sorry, but I can’t do that.”

  Kinsey pouted. “But I thought you could bring one of your apple pies.”

  Jill stuck to her guns. “Can’t.”

  Two days and the whole town already knew about her baking skills. Holy hell, by the end of the week would they know what color underbritches she wore and where she ordered them from?

  It was the music director’s turn next. A tall, willowy blond, with big brown doe eyes and a red knit dress that left little room for underwear and even less to the imagination, took her place behind the podium. “Some of you might not have heard the news, but Polly Cleary broke her ankle yesterday. She’ll be in the hospital a couple of more days, and then she’ll be staying with Gladys for a while. Keep her in your prayers. Now let’s sing ‘Victory Ahead’ before the sermon is delivered.”

  Jill’s eyes settled on Sawyer while she sang that by faith she saw victory ahead. Would he stand his ground with those two women, or would they wear him down? Just how strong was he when it came to determined women? She felt sympathy for him, almost as much as for herself. By summer, h
e might be wishing she had shot him when they first met.

  She was glad there wouldn’t be test questions on the sermon that morning, because she hadn’t heard half a dozen words. She thought he mentioned something about starting over, and she did hear the name Ruth a few times, so possibly she could fake her way through part of the test if it meant going to heaven or being sent straight to hell. She spent most of the time stealing glances over toward Sawyer. Eight times he’d been looking at her at the same time. Three of those he grinned; two of them he winked. It gave her confidence that she could get through the day and that tomorrow would start a brand-new week. Hopefully with no Gallaghers or Brennans to plague them.

  * * *

  “Back the truck in slow like, right up to the chute. Me and Hart will herd them into the truck. Won’t take thirty minutes,” Eli Gallagher said.

  Randy nodded. “This is the first job Granny has trusted us with. Y’all better not mess it up. She said every single one of them hogs, babies and all, was to go in this truck. I’ll get parked right up next to the chute and come help y’all herd them, but I’m tellin’ you, if there’s a single problem, I’ll whip both y’all’s asses.”

  “Hey, you’re the youngest one of us, so don’t try to be the big boss man. We’re in this together, and we ain’t makin’ no mistakes. Granny said that we got to be in Salt Holler by the time the benediction is done at church this mornin’, and on our way to Mingus by the time the Brennans realize their hogs are gone,” Hart said. “Now back her up easy-like, and we’ll make Granny proud.”

  Randy clicked off the instructions in his head: Load ’em up. Make sure to cover any tracks by runnin’ some cattle across the ground after they’d loaded the hogs. Unload them at Wallace’s place, and then take the cattle truck to Mingus, Texas, where there was a bull and two heifers waiting to come to Wild Horse Ranch. Job done and alibi in place.

  It was the wrong time of year for piglets, so the job wasn’t as difficult as it could have been. Lord, rounding up squealing piglets was tougher than herding cats. Eli did have a problem with one old sow that set her heels and lowered her head. Damn near set him on his ass in the mud before he got his balance and was able to turn the pig into the chute. Other than that, it was an easy job.