by Tina Leonard
It was turning out to be the longest night of his life.
In the end, his revenge was too obvious. Gleefully, Cody banged on Stormy’s hotel room door.
“Room Service!” he hollered.
Rustling on the other side of the door told him that there were two sleepyheads inside.
“We didn’t order room service,” Mary called.
“Open up, Mary. It’s Cody.”
She did a second later. He happily observed Stormy still partially asleep and looking somewhat disoriented in the queen-size bed. Setting down the tray he was carrying, completely without mercy, he jerked the bedspread off her.
He was proud of his restraint. He’d really wanted to jerk all the covers away to see what was underneath.
She sat up with a yelp, snatching the sheets to her chin. “What are you doing?”
Her gray eyes demanded an answer. He grinned at her disheveled appearance and decided to give her one. “Bringing you ladies a picker-upper. Got orange juice, some toast, and for the lady who doesn’t eat red meat, a vegetable omelet.”
“Thanks, Uncle Cody. I’m hungry.”
Mary sat down and took one of the plates for herself. He was glad to see she was decently attired in a big sleepshirt that said “Life’s a beach”. But at least she was covered. He’d wondered what Stormy had that was appropriate for a young girl to wear to bed. The first thing that had come to mind was nothing, but that had been a scalding thought, one that conjured up visions of Stormy’s perky little butt and bosom with no covering on them. He’d dismissed that thought as fast as he could, deciding that even a woman as outlandish as her would bring something to wear to bed in a strange city.
“Nice of you to loan my niece a T-shirt,” he told Stormy, “even if I’m not sure I like what it says.” Her easy Los Angeles personality and that beach attitude wasn’t something he wanted rubbing off on his niece.
Stormy shrugged and reached for a glass of orange juice. “It isn’t mine. She brought it with her when she came.”
Cody’s heart shrank two sizes. He felt a pain in his chest, as if he’d been working too long baling hay and had pulled a muscle. “You packed a sleepshirt, Mary?” he demanded.
“Yes, Uncle Cody.” She gestured toward a bag in the corner. He recognized her school backpack, which bulged with clothes.
“You really were running away!”
Both women looked at him as if he’d lost his mind.
“Did you not take her seriously, Cody?” Stormy gestured at him to turn around so she could get out of bed. “I sure didn’t think she was taking a midnight stroll for nothing.”
He turned to stare at Mary, not seeing Stormy as she fled from his view. “Why?” Pain spread through him that he hadn’t felt since his brother had died. This child he adored, this flesh and blood of his brother’s, was unhappy and Cody had no way of dealing with it.
She shook her head at him. “I tried to make you understand.”
Rapid knocking at the door startled both of them. Cody pulled it open, never taking his eyes off Mary’s slightly guilty, distressed expression.
“Mary!” Annie hurried into the room, enveloping her daughter in a fierce hug. “What on earth were you thinking of?” She started crying even as she held her daughter.
“Mom. Don’t cry.” Mary pulled away, unable to face her mother’s angst. “I don’t know.”
“You’d better have something to say to me other than ‘I don’t know’!”
Mary shrugged. “I’m just…I’m just not always happy.”
Cody handed Annie a tissue. “You know you’re grounded,” Annie said, “at least a week for crossing the highway.”
“Yes, Mother.” Mary’s eyelashes swept down.
Stormy came out of the bathroom, fully dressed now. Cody had been so preoccupied with his niece that he hadn’t glimpsed what the lunatic woman wore to bed. Damn.
“You’re looking grizzly this morning, Cody.” Annie rubbed a hand over his beard stubble. “Chasing a teenager wore you out worse than chasing cattle?”
“Hell, yeah. And these two think they’re owls, staying up all night. But they weren’t soaring this morning.” He jerked his head toward the tray. “I brought you breakfast for babysi—uh—for your troubles last night, Stormy.”
Mary shot him a dark look. “I don’t need a babysitter.”
He held up his hands in surrender. “I’m trying to change my thinking, ladybug.”
Annie looked at Stormy, directness in her gaze. “I should thank you for taking care of Mary last night. And I do.”
Stormy didn’t know what to say. She merely met Annie’s gaze.
“However, I can’t help wondering if you aren’t part of the problem.”
“How do you figure that?” Stormy was outraged.
“Maybe not you exactly, but your presence in Desperado. It’s putting thoughts in my daughter’s head that weren’t there before.”
“Mom—”
Annie ignored Mary.
“Oh, sure, shoot the messenger.” Stormy stuffed some things into the flowered carpetbag. “Sorry. I’m not buying that. You can try to put the blame on me, and ignore the problems that are obviously surfacing in your family.” She gave Annie a sympathetic look. “Or you can sit down and take the time to really listen to each other.” Sighing, she went to hug Mary. “I’ve got to go. I have an appointment. Don’t do that again. You scared us all to death.”
With a malevolent glare Cody’s way, she sailed past him. “You do need a shave, Cowboy.”
Then she was gone.
Annie’s mouth opened. “My. She is energetic, isn’t she?”
A whirlwind. “Yep,” he replied stonily. “Let’s get out of here.” He could smell perfume that was distinctly Stormy, and her hair had been pulled into a sophisticated crown of curls, which made him think of elegant old-movie stars. Heck, he’d had no idea a woman could get dressed that fast. Surely there was more of a process involved to looking that damn good.
Since when did Stormy Nixon look damn good to me?
“Cody, are you all right?”
Annie peered at him. Mary held a piece of toast between her fingers, which had gotten halfway to her mouth but hadn’t made it as she stared at him curiously.
“You look kind of…confused, Uncle Cody. Hornswoggled.”
He felt hornswoggled. Annie was right. Stormy’s presence in Desperado was putting thoughts in at least one head—his.
In the Stagecoach Inn lobby, Mayor Curvy Watkins of Desperado and Mayor Tate “Wrong-Way” Higgins of Shiloh had squared off in a shouting match. Trouble stood firmly in the middle, trying to settle the two men. Cody sighed to himself and went over to see what the hubbub was about. Annie and Mary followed.
“You got no business bringing your sneaky-snake self into Desperado and trying to run off with a guest this city is paying room and board to impress, Tate!” Curvy’s face was red with exertion. “Go find your own damn movie scout!”
“Wait, please—” Stormy began.
Neither man batted an eye her way.
“She agreed to meet me this morning,” Tate said, his stance aggressive. “Can I help it if she can’t find what she needs in this two-bit smuggling town?”
“Hold on, please!” Stormy stepped in between the two arguing men. “I have talked to people in Desperado, and now I have an appointment to talk to people about land in Shiloh. But I must have a location for this movie by tomorrow—no later. Or I will have to move to some of our other choices for the shoot.” Seeing that she had the attention of everyone in the room, which had filled considerably due to the ruckus, Stormy took a deep breath. “Now. If you will excuse me—”
“Miss Nixon! Miss Nixon!”
She paused, hearing about ten people call her name at once. Cody watched her, telling himself he had chores to see to, but he was fascinated by one tiny woman controlling an entire room of anxious people. She’s good at what she does, he thought begrudgingly.
“C
an you tell us what kind of film you’re doing?”
“Certainly.” She gave the room her brightest smile. “We’re making a horror film called The Devil’s Own.”
Excitement erupted in the room. “A horror film!” Annie whispered behind him. “I didn’t know that.”
“Now I know I won’t get to audition,” Mary griped.
“You sure as shooting won’t.” Cody stepped forward. “How come you never mentioned before that it was a horror film?” he called to Stormy.
She frowned at him. “I’m sure I said it was. Anyway, what difference does it make?”
Apparently, lots of other folks agreed with her assessment, because several surged forward to ask more questions, and to beg for auditions.
“Oh, no,” Mary moaned. “Now everyone’s heard about the movie, and they’re all going to want to try out.”
“It doesn’t matter, ladybug.” Cody steered Annie and Mary from the crowded lobby.
“But I want to be an actress!” she cried.
“Maybe. But horror films are not for thirteen-year-old eyes.” He was adamant.
Sulking, Mary went and got into her mother’s car, slamming the door.
“Do you really think that’s a problem?” Annie eyed Cody pensively. “I don’t think a horror film would be that bad. She’d have a bit part—if she got it. And I’m of a mind to let her see that trying out for something isn’t easy.”
“What if she got the part?”
Annie shrugged. “So let her see that making a movie is hard work.”
“Hard work?” He stared at the woman he held above all others. “Cattle driving is hard work. Seeding a field and praying that bugs, birds, and the bad side of Mother Nature don’t destroy your livelihood is hard work. Pretending is not.”
Annie looked at him. “Well, you’re working awfully hard at it.”
He squinted at her. “What’s your meaning?”
“You know exactly.” She got in the car. “Thanks for looking out for Mary last night.”
“My pleasure.” He couldn’t help the sarcasm. “Be more of a pleasure if she’d be a good girl for her Uncle Cody from now on.”
Mary stuck out her tongue at him. Annie gave him a sage nod. “We’ll see how good Mary is for you next week when Zach and I go on our second honeymoon.”
“Oh…I forgot.” Cody grimaced. “I did say Ma and me would be happy to take care of ladybug, didn’t I?”
“Yes, you did.” Annie smiled at him sweetly. “And it’s too late to back out on your offer.”
“Speaking of offers, what are you going to do about Stormy’s?”
Annie shrugged. “Zach and I haven’t decided.”
“Oh, Mom!”
“Sh, Mary. There’s a lot we’d have to change to be able to do it. And I’m not sure what all’s entailed in a horror film. I was picturing something cute.”
“We have to talk about it, Annie.” Cody’s tone was flat and serious. “You and Zach have to talk about it. In a horror film, there’s likely going to be…”
“Blood. I’ve already thought about that, Uncle Cody.” Mary looked at him, and then her mother. “It’s not the same as when Dad died. I’d know it was pretend.”
Maybe. Cody met Annie’s eyes in a moment where both clearly remembered the past. As Annie had pointed out, pretending was difficult. She knew it; he knew it. Mary, caught between wistful childhood and teenage drama, thought make-believe could always be separated from reality.
There had been nothing make-believe about Carlos’s bloody tractor death. It was the root of many of the problems Mary was having now. And blood stained everything it touched.
Chapter Five
Stormy felt that something was wrong the instant Cody took his disapproving glare out of the Stagecoach Inn. But people crowded around her, pressing against her with voices that demanded she stay and answer their questions. No matter how much she wanted to, she couldn’t follow Cody and find out if her instincts were right.
Reluctantly, she turned her attention to Mayor Higgins. “Thank you for coming by to pick me up.” She wasn’t fond of the tall man with the well-tended handlebar mustache. Cowboys were cowboys, she supposed, and she needed a location to film fast, but she sure wished Cody left more room to negotiate with than a flat “no”. As difficult as he was, she still felt she could trust him. And Annie.
It was harder to trust a man with the nickname of Wrong-Way.
“It’s a pleasure, Miss Nixon,” Tate said with a charming grin. “Let the lady by, folks. We’ve got important places to be.”
Sighing, Stormy got in the truck when he opened the door for her, hoping that Shiloh, the honorable city where folks had been down-home good for hundreds of years, had a reason to put its trust in this too-agreeable mayor. He got in the truck and grinned at her to make her feel at ease, but Stormy suddenly had a sense of being the egg the weasel dragged off.
Cody ignored the jealousy and anger at seeing Stormy get into Tate’s truck. He wouldn’t allow his worst enemy to go anywhere with Wrong-Way. But he didn’t have any say where Stormy was concerned, and it was her right to look for a location wherever she could, so he’d just have to mind his own business.
And try not to think about what methods that sidewinder would employ to get the cards dealt his way.
It would be better if she did take her business to Shiloh. They sure as hell weren’t going to use his prime land, and Annie was going to think twice now that she knew a horror movie was in the works. The Devil’s Own, he snorted to himself. Stormy was the devil’s own and any man ought to think twice before getting himself twisted up with her.
“That sum’bitch Higgins done dragged off our golden goose.” Curvy slumped on the bench outside the post office, confiding his woes to Pick. “Sure as shooting he’ll find her the place she wants. Wham! There goes our place on the map.”
“Did Annie say no?” Pick asked.
“Not yet. But she will, ’cause she knows Cody ain’t fond of the idea. Soon as that Nixon gal said horror movie, Cody took his boots outta there. You’da thought she was suggesting we begin ritual sacrifices and start with his heart.”
“Well, hell.” Pick pulled out a matchbook and inserted it between his teeth. “Gotta apply some other kind of pressure.”
“Like what?” He was so put out he wasn’t sure he could think. Tate had been grinning like a possum and it had Curvy’s brain short-circuited. He hated to be beat at anything.
“I dunno. Cody’s hard to wrestle down. Better focus on Annie. Or someone else who might do it. Anybody reply to your ad?”
“Hell, no,” Curvy said glumly. “They don’t want their land torn up.”
“Well, then. It’s gotta be Annie. But she’s having a baby, and it ain’t right to pick on an expectin’ woman.”
“No.” Curvy sighed. “Maybe it’ll all come out in the wash. Annie’s got that restaurant she’s gonna open up here in Desperado, and we’ll just lure all the Shiloh folks up this way to eat her delicious cooking. They’ll leave their money in this town, and we’ll have the last laugh on Tate. They might think they’re the only honest folk around, but they lie like dogs when they say they can cook.”
“Garbage so foul I wouldn’t feed it to my pigs.” Pick furrowed his brow. “Did Annie ever get her permit for the restaurant?”
“Don’t think so. Think the city is still looking it over.” Curvy looked at him. “Why?”
“You’re the mayor. Seems to me you could hold something up if you didn’t think it was for the good of the city.”
“That’s blackmail, Pick.”
“It’s business, Curvy. She who wants to receive from the town oughta give to the town.”
“Wait just a minute.” He shook his head. “Annie’s damn generous with her time and her resources. We wouldn’t have half of what we got if it wasn’t for Annie Aguillar Rayez.” He waved Pick’s idea off. “Remember when lumber was so scarce, and she let us cut trees off her property to make desks for t
he elementary school? Nope. Can’t hurt a woman who’s done so much for Desperado.”
“Then Desperado stays a place where folks stop to pee on the way to Shiloh to see the statue of the general, eat that stuff they call food, and pay to see the places where the famous actors stayed. Yep.” Pick leaned back against the bench, sighing as if satisfied with the outcome. “That’s what we are. A pee stop.”
“Pick, we’d be putting ourselves on a par with that dishonest Higgins if we stooped to such trickery.”
“I ain’t arguing with ya. You’re the mayor, and I’m proud to be a citizen of the town with the finest potty stops in Texas.”
“All right!” Curvy jumped to his feet and glared down at Pick. “I’ll do it.”
“Better a man’s pride than his conscience.” Pick grinned up at him. “I’ll walk over with ya.”
“I hope to hell I’m never the parent of a teenager.” Cody examined the heel of his boot. He sat in Sloan’s sheriff’s office, hot and airless except for the small fan in the corner, but his mood was already foul and air-conditioning wouldn’t have made any difference.
“Me, neither. Heck, I hope I’m never a parent at all.” Sloan nodded his empathy. “Bachelorhood is nearly as good as sainthood, if you think about it.”
Cody gave him a thin look. “Why?”
“Either way, you get respect. Any man who gets to our age without getting tied down deserves respect.”
“All I know is that Stormy Nixon needs to finish up her business and get out of here. She’s causing trouble.”
“Well.” Sloan leaned back, and the chair squeaked loudly. “Reckon she couldn’t stir up anything that wasn’t already a problem.”
“My Mary isn’t a problem, Sloan, and I don’t like to hear you insinuating it.”
The sheriff gave him a thorough stare. “Hate to differ with you, friend, but the only reason little Mary hasn’t spent a night in lockup is because I let her off easy—one time only. Just as a gesture to the respect I have for you, friend, but not to be abused.”
