by Jeannie Watt
Gus drove across the grassy pasture to the tree line and then followed the narrow road through the deciduous trees that were just leafing out. They came to another field and then a fence. Gus turned to the truck to follow the wire along what was more of a trail than a road. The grass was short and slick with frost in the high area between the two ruts that the tires were following.
“Is it always this cold in March?”
“Pretty much. The weather changes fast here. It might be balmy in a few days.”
“Define balmy,” Lillie Jean muttered.
“Not freezing.”
“Kind of what I thought.” She glanced over at him, but he kept his eyes on the fence. She had a sense of him wanting to say something, but holding back. Okay. He could talk when he was ready. She was certain he wasn’t going to say anything she wanted to hear, anyway. She’d gone with him for two reasons—to get a look at her inheritance, and to give Thad time to check her out. She hoped he did a lot of research while she was gone. Once he understood that she was on the up-and-up, then they could move forward.
The truck lurched and it hit a deeper rut, knocking her against the door, then shooting her sideways to bump shoulders with Gus, causing the seat belt to cut into her.
“Road gets rough sometimes.”
This isn’t a road. It wasn’t. It was a rutted track, working its way through a pasture, over and around rocks, through boggy spots. Gus was now driving so that the tires were next to the ruts, rather than in them, but every now and again, the truck slid into one of the deep Vs.
He pulled to a stop, put the truck in neutral and set the parking brake. “I’ll leave the heater on. You’ll be fine.”
“I’ll get out for a while.”
He gave her a “suit yourself” shrug and opened his door. While Lillie Jean stepped down into the crunchy frozen grass, he went to the rear of the truck and pulled out a bucket and an odd contraption. He walked to the fence, set them down and then went back for a roll of wire. For some contrary reason, Lillie Jean did not want to get back into the truck. Maybe it was because he thought she was too wimpy to stand out in the cold—and it was at least ten degrees colder here than it had been at the ranch. Altitude, maybe. Her lips twitched grimly. They didn’t have much altitude where she came from. Rolling hills, but no big changes that would drop temperatures ten degrees or so.
Gus set about connecting new wire to old, stretching it tight with the metal contraption, then crimping it off with a small tube and pliers. He did it for all five strands in a surprisingly short period of time, then loaded his tools back into the truck, which was still chugging away, sending up an exhaust cloud near the rear wheels. There was something satisfying about watching a guy do something he did well, or maybe there was something satisfying about watching a guy as good-looking as Gus do something he did well. And maybe it was just a little irritating that, due to circumstances, he was probably always going to view her through a veil of suspicion.
So be it. Some things were simply out of her control. Like the fact that she felt this crazy tug toward the man. Despite everything, he kind of fascinated her. Well, he was a Montana cowboy—the stuff of which legends were made. She wasn’t going to think about the fact that legends were made about Texas cowboys, too, and so far she hadn’t met a man from Texas who’d fascinated her like this guy was doing.
Time to get her mind back on the here and now. “Do you have deer on the ranch?” Mentally she rolled her eyes. Of course, they had deer. She’d seen them last night.
“Deer and elk and antelope. Moose.”
“Bears?”
“Yes.”
She wasn’t a big fan of bears. She’d never seen one in person and she didn’t want to.
Gus headed for his door, leaving Lillie Jean to wrestle with hers. Finally she got the thumb latch pushed in and pulled the heavy door open on protesting hinges. “You should put some grease to this thing.”
“I’ll see to it,” he said in a tone which indicated a lack of appreciation for her helpfulness.
“Just a suggestion.” Not trying to tell you your business or take over the ranch.
Nope. She had no intentions in that direction. She’d seen enough of the ranch to satisfy her curiosity, and now she was going to settle matters with Thaddeus, get her answers and drive back home. Once there, she’d find a job and a more permanent place to live than her friend Kate’s tiny house. And maybe, because of this quest and her time away from Serenity, Texas, she’d be better equipped to deal with the fallout of her broken engagement and the fact that A Thread in Time was no longer hers. Maybe some new scandal had rocked her community and she wouldn’t be on the receiving end of pitying glances and less than helpful reassurances that this had all happened for a reason.
But no matter what, it was going to sting to drive past her storefront, and it was going to suck to run into Andrew and her other ex-partner, Taia. The business stealers.
How had she not seen any of this coming?
The fact that she hadn’t, that she’d assumed that Andrew’s vague withdrawal had something to do with prewedding jitters, left her shaken. Half-afraid to trust her own judgment. And worse than that, it had affected her creativity. She hadn’t sewn or picked up her sketch pad in six weeks. And the way things were going, it didn’t look like she was going to reclaim her creativity anytime soon.
She let out an audible sigh, and then her eyes flashed open as she realized what she’d done. Audience. You have an audience.
But when she gave Gus Hawkins a furtive sideways glance, he appeared as lost in thought as she’d been, eyes fixed on the track in front of them.
* * *
LILLIE JEAN HUDDLED in the oversize coat, even though the heater was blowing full blast and Gus was starting to sweat, almost as if she was trying to disappear inside of it. Every now and again he’d hit a rut wrong or the tire would bump up over a rock and it would throw her sideways, but she always righted herself without a word. It was obvious that she didn’t have a lot of experience driving over rough terrain, because she didn’t have a clue how to anchor herself in place with strategic handholds. The truck was old and had lap belts instead of shoulder harnesses, and he couldn’t help but note that Lillie Jean needed a shoulder harness.
“You might want to grab the handle above the door,” he said after a big bump that almost brought her out of her belt. “It’ll keep you from bouncing around so much.”
“Thank you.” The words came out stiffly, but she took hold of the plastic handle.
“Not a problem.” His words were equally clipped.
The rest of the boundary fence in this pasture was intact, which would keep Carson off his back for a day or two. The man understood next to nothing about ranching, but that didn’t keep him from giving directives. Gus had felt sorry for the guy Carson hired to manage his place a few months ago, but the man quickly came to his senses and quit two weeks in. Now Carson ran the place himself and let everyone know it when they met at various public events.
“Do you own an interest in the ranch?”
Gus shot Lillie Jean a frowning look. He’d been so deep in his head that she’d startled him by speaking.
“I manage the place.”
“Are you Thad’s heir?”
He didn’t want to answer that question, but couldn’t come up with a reason not to. “The last I heard.”
“Does he have a will?”
“He does.”
“So this isn’t only about you watching out for your uncle. You’re watching out for you, too.”
He shot her a cool look. “Something wrong with that?”
“No.” She spoke lightly. “But maybe being in that position will help you to understand that I’m in the same boat.”
He didn’t have a lot to say to that. Did he resent her showing up out of nowhere? Oh yeah. But facts were facts, and if
she was the silent partner’s heir, then he had to adapt. In twenty-four short hours his life had essentially been turned upside down by something that Thad had been aware of all along. Who would have thought quiet Thad would have been embroiled in such a soap opera?
But it did explain why he wouldn’t live on the ranch. It might even explain why he’d clung to his bachelorhood so tightly. He was afraid not to. And that kind of broke Gus’s heart. Decades of loneliness and now Lillie Jean shows up as a flesh-and-blood reminder of everything that had gone down. He hated that his uncle had to deal with this.
“Did it occur to you before you arrived that showing up as you did would upset Thad?” He tried not to sound judgmental, but failed.
“I wanted answers.” There was a tightness to her voice. “I wanted to see the ranch.”
“So, no.” Gus glanced sideways at his passenger, then let out a curse as the truck lurched sideways, yanking the steering wheel out of his hands. The frame of the truck hit rock as the front wheel slipped deep into a rut. Lillie Jean’s head snapped forward on impact, her forehead making solid contact with the dash.
“Lillie Jean—”
She pulled herself upright, one hand pressed against her forehead just over her right eyebrow, her eyes wide with shock. He gave another silent curse as he saw blood oozing from between her fingers.
“Keep your hand there.”
She instantly pulled it away, took a look at her bloody fingers, gasped, then quickly put her fingers back where they’d been, smearing blood across her forehead. Gus had caught a quick look at the wound, which was bleeding freely as head wounds tended to do. It was short and gaping. Deep, dark red.
“Hold on.” He fished around under the seat and pulled out a first aid kit sealed in a zipper bag. It contained only rudimentary supplies, but had saved his butt a time or two when he’d injured himself while working alone. He pulled out a box of gauze pads and peeled one off the top and handed it to her, she pressed it to the wound for a few seconds, then turned and pulled down the visor.
“No mirror,” she muttered.
“Old truck.” If it had been newer, she probably wouldn’t have an injury, but the dash was sunbaked and hard as a rock.
She peeled the gauze off and tilted her head toward him, obviously wanting an opinion.
Gus shook his head and handed her another gauze pad. “Quick, before it drips.”
Lillie Jean slapped the new gauze in place, and Gus said, “We can go to the urgent care clinic and they can put a butterfly on it and close it up.”
“Or...?”
Or? What did she mean “or”?
“I can do the same?”
She reached for another gauze pad. “Take me to the ranch. We can do it there.”
“You’re sure?” Because he didn’t want her coming back at him later.
“Yes.” She gave him a conflicted look. “I don’t want to pay for urgent care at this point in my life.”
That gave him something to chew on as he very carefully drove back to the house. He stopped at the first gate and Lillie Jean started to open the door, as if she was going to open the stubborn gate latch with one hand, and hold the gauze to her forehead with the other. Gus stopped her with a quick, “I’ll do it.”
“Afraid of getting blood on your coat?”
Gus almost smiled. Almost. “Yeah.”
“Whatever.” She reached for the first aid bag as he got out of the truck. When he got back in she had another pad in place. The bleeding had slowed and he hoped by the time they got back to the ranch they’d be able to work on the cut.
Thad was still at the kitchen table, talking into the landline when Lillie Jean walked into the kitchen ahead of Gus. He nearly dropped the phone when he caught sight of bloody Lillie Jean. “Excuse me,” he said into the receiver. “What happened?” His gaze went straight to Gus.
“I hit a rock, slid into a rut. Lillie Jean’s forehead slammed into the dash. I’m going to render first aid.”
Thad bounced a frowning look between the two of them. “You want to go to the clinic?”
“No,” Lillie Jean and Gus said in unison.
She glanced up at Gus. “I’ll clean it up and then call you when I need help with the butterfly.”
He nodded and then shrugged out of his coat as Thad went back to his phone call. Henry followed Lillie Jean down the hall, the bathroom door closed, and Gus went to pour a cup of coffee. What a morning.
As near as he could tell, Thad was talking to his attorney, so he wandered into the mudroom and threw a bunch of dirty jeans into the wash to give his uncle some privacy. When he heard the bathroom door open again, he poked his head into the kitchen and Lille Jean beckoned him from the hallway.
“Prognosis?” she asked. She removed the folded tissue she had over the wound to show him a half-inch-long cut that would be a cinch to butterfly closed.
“I think we can do this without leaving a scar.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you some kind of an EMT or something?”
“Bull rider.” One corner of her mouth quirked up as he corrected himself. “Former bull rider. I know about scars.” And regardless of how he felt about her being there, he’d hate to leave one on her beautiful brow.
“In that case, carry on.”
He was kind of surprised that she placed herself so totally in his hands, but if she didn’t have money for urgent care, then that could be a big influencer in her decision. He stepped closer and opened the medicine cabinet and pulled a box of adhesive stitches off the shelf. Lillie Jean swung the mirror closed again and he dug in the box for the size he wanted.
“Why don’t you take a seat.” He gestured at the commode and she sat, lifting her chin. Gus brushed the hair away from her forehead as he surveyed the cut, trying not to notice how the silky strands teased his fingertips. He opened the suture package. “Dab the blood away. Press hard, then lift the tissue.”
Lillie Jean pushed hard against her forehead and when she lifted the tissue, he quickly applied the butterfly, expertly pulling the edges of the cut together so they touched. He dropped his hands and sat back on his heels. It looked good. She looked good. He was losing it.
Lillie Jean got to her feet and moved past him to look in the mirror, tilting her chin sideways to get a better angle. “You did well.”
“Like I said, practice.”
Lillie Jean lightly touched the wound as if testing for pain. “Remind me not to ride with you again.”
“I should have kept my eyes on the road.” Instead of on you. The crazy thing was that once again he was having a hard time keeping his eyes off her. Something about her tugged at him, made him want to study her.
Okay. She kind of fascinated him.
Suddenly the bathroom was about half the size it usually was, and he felt a deep need to escape. “I’ll, uh...let you...yeah.”
CHAPTER FIVE
WHEN WAS THE last time he’d been at a loss for words? Pub keepers had to have their wits about them and he was kind of known for snappy comebacks. But not today. He felt like a tongue-tied junior high kid as he escaped the overly small bathroom.
Thad was in the mudroom putting on his coat.
“Going somewhere?”
“Sal’s place.” Thad jerked his head toward the hallway. “Is Lillie Jean okay?”
“Seems to be doing all right. She’s tougher than she looks.” He half muttered the second part, coming to terms with the fact that maybe Lillie Jean was a fish out of water, and maybe she resembled a Disney princess in some regards, but that didn’t mean she was overly delicate.
Thad shot him an accusing look as they went out the door. “I told you to buy me some time, not bring her home all bloody.”
“It was an accident.”
“Yeah. I know. But I want to keep on her good side.”
; “She is who she says she is?”
“Appears so. I had a long talk with the lawyer kid, who said the will was straightforward. The deed automatically transferred to Lillie Jean at Lyle’s death. There’s just a little paperwork to clear up.”
Gus rolled his eyes at the word kid. To Thad, anyone under the age of forty was a kid, even if he was a lawyer or a bull rider or whatever. “Why weren’t you notified of your partner’s death?”
“They’re behind. They just moved offices and his father retired.” Thad’s mouth twisted. “I gave him a little guff, but, bottom line, Lillie Jean is who she says she is.”
Even though he’d expected something along those lines, Gus felt his stomach twist. His carefully planned future was now null and void.
“I stored some papers in Sal’s house. I want to take a look at them.” Thad gestured toward the manager’s house with his gray head. “You may as well come.”
He may as well. They crossed the short distance to the house without speaking. Thad pushed the stubborn door open and it scraped its way across the worn carpet. The interior of the house felt colder than the outside air, even though Gus knew the furnace was set to come on at fifty degrees and thus keep the pipes from freezing.
Sal had left some time ago, and a layer of dust had settled over the carpet and the few pieces of furniture the former manager had left behind. Furniture that had probably been in the house when he’d first moved in twenty-five years ago.
Thad went to the hall and pulled the cord that lowered the attic steps. The attic was cramped, so Gus waited near the kitchen door while Thad thumped around upstairs, then came back down carrying a metal box.
Gus asked the obvious question once Thad placed the strongbox on the wobbly kitchen table. “Why do you keep things here?” It wasn’t like there wasn’t a lot of room in the main house. It, too, was sparsely furnished.
