Lone Star Joy

by Kathleen Ball

  Dillon began to fuss, reaching for Joy. "Ma Ma, Ma Ma," he said, wanting her to hold him.

  Joy looked at Stamos. "Here, take the little bugger. He's been fussing all night," Stamos said with a smile.

  Joy reached out and took Dillon into her arms. The smile she bestowed on Stamos lightened his heart. She'd really taken a hankerin' to Dillon, it was written all over her face.

  "Where's Bailey? Did she go home?" Joy asked.

  Stamos laughed. "No, she just sleeps through everything."

  Joy smiled back at him. Stamos decided to look into her case. He had a hard time believing that she murdered her stepmother.

  Joy hugged Dillon. She wasn't too thrilled about the Ma Ma, thing. It was bound to cause trouble, but for that brief moment she closed her eyes and cherished a feeling she had no right to. A feeling that wasn't bound to come her way again, love for and from a child.

  When she opened her eyes, Stamos' smile was a surprise. His hat usually covered his jet-black hair, but it hung loose and sexy to his shoulders. The twinkle in his chocolate eyes humbled her. She yearned for the twinkle, but she knew it was for Dillon. It warmed her just the same.

  Her gaze lingered on his chest, he'd pulled on a shirt, but he hadn't taken the time to button it. Something stirred inside her at the sight of his hard, muscular chest. Looking lower, she almost gasped at his chiseled abs. She glanced away. Her feelings confused her. She recognized lust and she didn't want it in her life. She'd seen the look of lust many times. She never expected to feel it. Being aloof had been her life for so long. It had saved her life many times.

  "I'm fine now." She didn't look at him. She knew that she'd turn bright red.

  Stamos sat on the bed next to her. His closeness made it hard for her to breathe. She felt so uncomfortable and out of place. She thought that her heart would beat out of her chest.

  "Old Dil sure has taken a shine to you."

  Joy gave him a brief smile. "I'm sorry, he shouldn't be calling me, Ma Ma. I'm sure he doesn't know what he's saying." Her heart dropped. This would just be one more strike against her.

  "That's the rub. If he doesn't know, then he doesn't mean to call me Da Da. Nope, I refuse to believe it. No big deal, he's probably missing Stacey."

  "I bet that's it," Joy quickly agreed.

  "Come on, let's get you settled on my couch and I'll figure something out for tomorrow night."

  Holding Dillon, breathing in his baby scent, Joy followed Stamos. He hadn't acted mad or annoyed. In fact, he gave the impression that he actually cared. Nothing, absolutely nothing was ever as it seemed. She would do well to remember that.

  Stamos downed his coffee and poured himself another cup. It'd take the whole pot to keep him awake today. What a night. After he got Joy settled on the couch and Dillon back to sleep, Stamos finally got some shuteye, only to have Joy wake him because Dillon was crying.

  It alarmed him that he hadn't heard him. He knew that Joy wouldn't take it upon herself to tend to Dil out of fear of his reaction. He hadn't been so welcoming when she proclaimed her innocence. He felt like an ass, a damn tired ass.

  Dillon sat in his highchair. It was a recent development and Dil liked it. He smiled and jabbered watching Stamos all the while. It was an awesome feeling to know that this little being depended on him for everything.

  He still took a bottle, but Stamos had started to add baby cereal to Dil's diet. In fact, they were both covered in the gooey stuff.

  "Good Morning," Bailey sang out, putting her hand on Stamos' shoulder. "You should have woken me. I could have taken care of Dillon."

  Stamos wanted to laugh. At least she was good with Dillon during the day. He'd just have to tough it out until the nanny arrived. "I was up."

  Bailey smiled at him. She looked sexy with her just washed corkscrew hair hanging down her back. She had a hot little bod.

  "Can I make you breakfast?" she asked.

  "No none for me, but fix some for Joy. She had a hard night."

  "Where is our little convict? Still locked in her cage?"

  "No I'm right here," Joy announced, without a hint of annoyance. She went to the sink, grabbed a clean cloth, wet it, and gently cleaned off Dillon's hands. She went back to the sink to rinse the cloth. When she started back toward Dillon, Bailey grabbed the wet cloth out of her hand.

  "Don't you dare touch that child. I will not have a convicted murderer touching that innocent baby," Bailey shrieked, causing Dillon to cry.

  Joy hesitated for a second, and then she banged out the back door.

  "Good riddance to bad rubbish."

  "Bailey," Stamos started.

  "What? She is a convict."

  Stamos sighed. "We'll be back for lunch," he replied, kissing Dillon on the head. "Be good, Dil."

  Dillon reached for him. "Da Da, Da Da."

  "I'll be back later, buddy," Stamos told him.

  He'd call the prosecuting lawyer and see if he could get Joy's court transcripts sent over. Something wasn't right, and he'd blown his chance to find out from Joy.

  He pulled his grey Stetson low over his eyes and headed outside. He had horses to train and a few of them were just the right age to start. He had all types of horses. Mostly, he raised quarter horses and paints. He sold many to rodeo riders and cattle ranchers. Lately he'd been having requests for jumpers, and dressage trained horses. First things first, he had a group of foals that needed to learn to wear a head collar and be led in-hand. The real training didn't start until a horse was three years old, but it was important to get them used to humans. Regular handling established trust and confidence.

  Stamos watched Joy lead Franklin out of the barn. "Going for a ride?"

  "If it's alright with you. I'd like to see what ol' Frankie here can do. He has great conformation. Looks like a real champ."

  Stamos frowned and immediately regretted it. Her happiness faded right out of her. "His name is, Franklin. It is in no way shape or form, Frankie."

  "Then it's okay if I ride him?"

  "Take him for a spin. When you get back you can help me with the foals."

  "That's it?" she asked, looking doubtful.

  "What's it?"

  "I get to just ride away by myself?"

  Stamos smiled. "Yes and enjoy yourself."

  Her brilliant smile warmed him inside, making him feel on top of the world. He watched in awe as she rode away. She was one hell of a horsewoman. Excellent seat. It was a bit of a disappointment that she'd have to leave soon.

  Joy rode until she was out of sight. She halted Frankie, took off her hat, and unbraided her hair. She lifted her face to the bright Texas sun, closed her eyes, and shook her head, enjoying the feel of her hair loose down her back.

  "Frankie, lets ride and feel free."

  She turned the horse and headed west, loving the feel of the sun at her back as it rose higher into the vast sky. The wind whipped through her hair gloriously. As it hit her face and washed over it, she underwent a cleansing of sorts. Her nerve endings were on high alert and for the first time in eight years, she felt happy to be alive.

  Before she knew it, her eyesight grew blurry and her cheeks were wet. Joy's chest heaved as she sobbed. Halting Frankie, she grabbed a bandana out of her back pocket and wiped her eyes.

  "Well, Frankie, I guess we should head back. Stamos is probably watching the horizon for us."

  Franklin nodded and without any guidance, he turned them and rode for home. Joy knew she was an emotional wreck, but she had work to do and she looked forward to working with the foals.

  It was just as she predicted. Stamos stood scanning the horizon and when he spotted them, he stopped, pretending that he hadn't been watching for them.

  "Good ride?" he called out to her.

  "The best," she replied, trying to smile. "Let me take care of Frank-- lin and I'll be right out to help you."

  "Sure thing," he called.

  Joy could feel his gaze on her the whole time she led Frankie to the barn. The heat fro
m his stare became warm and reassuring. Usually when she sensed someone watching her it wasn't a good thing. She'd become a back against the wall type of person. It served her well, so far.

  After grooming Frankie, she let him out into the nearest pasture and joined Stamos. He looked all kinds of tired. "You all right, Boss?"

  Stamos gave her a half smile. "Didn't get a whole hell of a lot of sleep last night."

  "I know. I'm sorry about that."

  "It wasn't just you. It was a combination of Dillon and you. I'll move Dillon in to my room and I have a cot that can be moved into his room that you can use."

  "I don't want to cause any trouble."

  "It's not a problem, Joy."

  The way he said her name warmed her soul. "If you're sure..."

  "I'm sure. Now here's my herd of foals, show me what you got."

  Joy amazed him. He'd heard it bandied about by his men that she was some type of horse whisperer. He had to give the rumor credence. Even the most skittish of foals allowed her to approach and put the head collar on, along with a lead rope.

  It reminded him of Snow White the way animals flocked around her. Joy was a real life Snow White. Animals sensed the goodness in a person and he couldn't take his eyes off her.

  He'd almost lost his stoic composure when she rode back in on Franklin with her hair streaming down her back. She was no plain Jane. He knew she tried to be inconspicuous. It's a good strategy for surviving prison. He couldn't believe she thought she could be plain. Her skin glowed from the sun making her look so fresh, so young. Her eyes had a bit of a twinkle in them. A person would have to be blind not to see her beauty. Well, he didn't have any business looking at her that way. She was just a ranch hand.

  He glanced at her again and shook his head. No, she was so much more. Stamos wished that he could talk to George about her case. Her files were being sent and he hoped to get them soon.

  "Looking good," he called out to her, knowing that she'd take it as good job, but he meant looking great in those jeans and love the hair.

  Joy looked at him and smiled. "I love horses."

  Her glow drew him to her. He wondered what it would be like to caress her. "It shows."

  He thought Bailey was sexy, a one-night stand sexy. Joy, well, he didn't know yet, but she had his interest. Her legs were so long, they were made for wrapping around a man's waist.

  It wasn't just her looks that attracted him. She seemed genuine and kind. He found it hard to believe that she was a murderer. She'd been convicted of murder and he needed to keep that foremost in his thoughts until he found out differently. He'd been deceived plenty of times.

  Stamos took off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. Hell, he'd tricked many into believing what he wanted them to believe. He had to admit that he was a great FBI agent. With the right skills, it could be easy to con people. His heart and his head conflicted, not a good sign.

  He plunked his hat back on and swore. He needed those damn files.

  Joy lay on the cot looking at all the cowboys on the wall border. It ran all round the room at the top of the wall. She liked it, but right now, it made her restless.

  She sat up and buried her face in her hands. She could hear Stamos shuffling papers downstairs and she knew what he was looking at. Her heart sank when she recognized the boxes he unloaded from his truck. They were her files. She'd seen them often.

  It drove her crazy not knowing which file he was reading now. Was it the crime scene, her confession, or all the manufactured evidence? It didn't matter, it all screamed guilty. Ashamed of her past, a lone tear trailed down her face.

  She walked to the door and hesitated. She knew his face would reveal disgust. No matter who read her files, the look was always the same. Part of her wasn't ready to face it, but she had to know.

  The lump in her throat caused her to swallow hard. She walked downstairs and stood outside his office door. Taking a few steadying breaths, she knocked. Upon hearing Stamos yell to come in, Joy opened the door and walked in. The lights seemed too bright, shining on her, resembling a prison tower spotlight. The need to turn and run became overwhelming, but Joy stood her ground.

  The look she'd been expecting, the look of disgust, wasn't there. It shook Joy to see a look of sympathy on Stamos' face. She had no recollection of the last time she had seen that expression on anyone's face. She stared at him not knowing what to say or think.

  "Joy, take a seat before you fall over," Stamos said gruffly.

  Joy obeyed and looked around the room, her trial transcripts were everywhere. She wondered how far he'd gotten. Had he seen the plane ticket purchased in her name with her stepmother's credit card? The jury loved that one. That particular piece of evidence had been the last nail in her coffin.

  "Joy?"

  "Well I guess I'll be out of here in the morning," she said, sighing.

  "Joy, you're shaking."

  She gave him a helpless smile. "I can't seem to help it."

  Stamos came around the desk, took her hands, and pulled her up until they stood facing each other.

  Joy couldn't stand the look in his eyes. Somehow pity hurt worse. Overcome, she looked away.

  "Come here," Stamos said softly. He hugged her to him.

  Joy stood as wooden as a toy soldier. She didn't remember how to hug. When had she'd been hugged last? She couldn't think. His large comforting hands ran up and down her back, turning her into rubber. Finally, she leaned against him and wrapped her arms around his waist.

  The feel of his muscular arms wrapped around her broke her heart. They made her feel safe, but she knew better. After luxuriating in the emotion for another minute, Joy reluctantly pulled away. She couldn't allow herself to feel safe, that's what got you killed.

  Chapter Four

  Stamos sat behind his heavy oak desk, his gaze never leaving Joy. He noticed the fear on her face and he realized it was a slip on her part. He knew that she had learned to show no fear in prison.

  "Eight years is a long time," he said.

  She only nodded, looking at the floor. She looked so small in the big leather chair. He hadn't given it much thought before, but this room was distinctly masculine, full of oversized heavy oak and leather furniture.

  "You were fourteen and they tried you as an adult?" he asked.

  "You have all the information you need right in front of you." Joy tried to sound as though she didn't care, but he wasn't buying it.

  "I haven't read it all."

  "Yet, you haven't read it all yet." Her hazel eyes flashed at him.

  "Do you have a problem with that?" Stamos asked.

  Joy shrugged and looked away. "Where's the file on your life story for me to read?" she asked, bitterly.

  "Joy, I'm just trying--"

  Joy jumped up. "I know what you're trying, Boss. You want to know if I'm going to murder you in your sleep. Let me assure you, this convicted murderer promises not to slit your throat while you sleep."

  A gasp at the door made them both turn. Bailey stood there in a silky pink nightgown. "I told you. You can't have her in the house, it just isn't right. I couldn't sleep all night fearing that she might come into my room and do who knows what to me."

  Joy rolled her eyes. "You're not my type, honey."

  Bailey looked insulted. "Stamos, say something," she demanded.

  Stamos stood, walked toward Joy, and put his arm around her shoulders. "Bailey, you don't know the whole story."

  "Like you do? Good God, look at all these files. There is no way you read them all tonight." Her voice became louder, bordering on hysterical.

  "Bailey, this isn't your business."

  "Listen, you two," Joy said, shrugging Stamos' arm off her shoulders. "I'll probably be going back to prison tomorrow. I'm going back to bed."

  Stamos watched Joy leave the room. She looked dignified and stoic. Her face had turned to stone, but her eyes gave her away.

  "Glad that's over." Bailey smiled at him. Her eyelashes fluttered while she
sashayed toward him in her pink nightie. She licked her lips and gave him a smile full of promises.

  "Goodnight, Bailey." Stamos escorted her to the door. Despite her protests, he gave her a gentle push out of the room. At the sound of the door locking, he sighed in relief.

  Joy didn't want him going through her files. Too bad, he was just sorry that it hurt her. The evidence looked damning, but it also seemed too convenient. There seemed a lot that didn't make sense. He wondered if she still had contact with her father and brother. From what he could tell, they defended her at first, and then they began to find evidence and hand it over to the police one piece at a time.

  He heard Dillon begin to fuss. He ran his fingers through his hair. He'd better go get him, Lord knows the sleepless Bailey didn't hear him.

  Joy walked into the kitchen. She wished that she could just bypass Stamos and Bailey, especially Bailey. It seemed there was always a Bailey type in her life, someone who wouldn't let the past go.

  Joy sensed everyone's gaze turned toward her. It made her face heat up until Dillon reached for her calling, "Ma Ma, Ma Ma, Ma Ma."

  Joy smiled, wondering if her face cracked. He looked so adorable, with cereal on his head, waving his sticky hands at her. She intended to give Stamos a brief look, but he had more cereal on his head than Dillon did.

  Laughter filled the room and it was hers. Her eyes locked with Stamos' and she laughed even harder at his mock look of outrage. The only one not laughing was Bailey.

  "Laugh all you want. You don't have to clean it all up. It'll take a lot of scrubbing to get that boy clean."

  Joy took exception to Bailey referring to Dillon as that boy. It lacked any type of warmth for Dillon. "Dillon," she said, staring at Bailey.

  "What is your problem?" Bailey asked.

  "His name is, Dillon, not that boy." Joy stared her down.

  "Oh for God's sake, get a grip. It doesn't matter what I call him. I still have to scrub him and this kitchen clean," Bailey screeched.