The Maverick

by Jan Hudson

  “I am.” He slipped the form into the papers on his clipboard. “Where is POAC moving?”

  “To the building of one of our members, a couple of blocks over—if I can locate some muscle and a truck pretty soon.”

  “I’ve got some muscle and a truck. Is this all you have to move?” He motioned to the desk, folding chairs, a folding table and a file cabinet.

  Cass looked around at the motley assortment of equipment and furniture and grinned. “This is it. Did I mention we keep the overhead low? Everything we have is either donated or bought from the Salvation Army store. We pay our secretary barely enough to keep her in gas money to work a few hours a week.”

  “I’ll call two of my guys to come over, and by the time we’re finished measuring, they’ll have everything loaded up and ready to go.”

  “Oh, Greg, I hate for you to do that. I don’t want to impose on your workers’ time.”

  “Not a problem.” Greg phone Chick, whoever he was, and told him to bring a couple of helpers to this address.

  “That’s very sweet of you, Greg.”

  He grinned. “I’m a sweet kind of guy. Let’s use my tape.” He unclipped an enormous tape measure from his belt and whipped it the length of the living room. “Sixteen.” He moved and whipped it again. “Thirteen.”

  Cass hurriedly wrote down the numbers as he moved from room to room and called them out.

  “Golly,” she said when they were finished. “That took a whole five minutes. You’re speedy.”

  He chuckled. “The other house had the exact same floor plan, so these same measurements should do for them. Let’s talk about the fireplace. I assume you’d want it in the living room.”

  “Sure. I suppose another option would be between the living room and dining room.” They walked back in that direction.

  “It’s a possibility, but it would cost considerably more. I recommend you put it right here between these two windows.” He showed her several styles to choose from, then gave her a price for each.

  “I love this one,” Cass said, pointing out a contemporary one, faced with slate. “Let’s do it.”

  “Good choice,” he said. “A lot of people are putting their flat screen TVs over the fireplace. Want me to wire yours for a TV?”

  “Great idea. How much will it cost?”

  She was surprised at how little he quoted, and she scribbled the figure in her notebook a second before the helpers knocked on the front door. Greg instructed the two men on what to load in his truck, and while they were doing so, Cass called the owner of the new office space and told her they were on the way.

  Greg drove the men and the furniture to the new site, and Cass followed behind. The furniture was moved and the office set up in less than an hour.

  “I can’t tell you how grateful I am for this, Greg,” she told him warmly.

  “Consider it my donation to POAC. Want to grab a bite of lunch at the place across the street?”

  Cass hesitated. She rarely ate lunch so early.

  “I wanted to go over some particulars about trim work and paint.”

  “Sure,” she said. “I’m always up for Chinese. What about your men?”

  “Chick will pick them up. He’s on his way.”

  She and Greg walked across the street and went inside. It felt a little strange to be with another man and have him opening the door and touching her back to steer her to a table. Was she picking up some subtle signals or was he just another friendly guy?

  After they ordered, he did indeed go over some ideas he had for the crown molding in both houses, as well as railings for the porches to make them look different from one another. He also suggested using reclaimed lumber. They decided on granite countertops for her house and concrete ones for the rental, and discussed interior molding colors.

  When their food came, they put aside their respective notes and ate.

  “Tell me,” he said, “what have you been doing since high school?”

  Cass briefly told him about college and law school and her stint as a lawyer in New York. “I stood it as long as I could, and then I headed back to Texas last year. I didn’t like being a lawyer, and I missed home and my sister. What about you? As I recall, you had a football scholarship somewhere.”

  “I did. UCLA. I was studying architecture there, but I blew out my knee in my junior year. Surgery fixed me up to do everything except play football, and I dropped out of school. For a few years I knocked around California learning the building trades. Like you, I started missing Texas and my family, so I headed home a couple of years ago.”

  “Married? Children?”

  He shook his head. “Nope. How about you?”

  Cass had a feeling she needed to discourage any ideas of a personal relationship between them. “Nope. Me neither, but I’ve been seeing a very special guy. This may be the one.”

  “Then it wouldn’t do me any good to ask you out on date?”

  She smiled. “Sorry. I’m pretty sure my guy wouldn’t approve.”

  “Well, damn. A day late and a dollar short. You know, I used to have a crush on you when you were a cute little sophomore cheerleader.”

  Cass laughed. “On Sunny or me?”

  “Both of you, to tell the truth. I couldn’t tell one from the other. But you seemed too young for me at the time.”

  “How funny. I figured you didn’t know we were alive. So you never went back to get your architecture degree?”

  He shook his head. “I kept putting it off for one reason or another, and now I’m too old.”

  “I don’t think you’re ever too old to go back to school.”

  “Maybe you’re right, but I have people dependent on me now. My mom isn’t in the best of health, and I support her and my special-needs sister.”

  While they finished lunch, Cass told him briefly about Sunny’s life, as well. Greg was easy to talk to, and she really liked him, but the zing she felt with Griff simply wasn’t there. She didn’t have the slightest urge to jump across the table and nibble his ear or kiss him senseless.

  Sorry, Mom.

  SHE MISSED GRIFF dreadfully. Even though he called every day, it wasn’t enough. Her days were busy and full, but still they seemed to drag by. When Sunny picked her up on Sunday morning to drive to Dripping Springs for their meeting with Carrie Outlaw, Cass welcomed the distraction of both having time alone with her sister and seeing Carrie.

  Sunny drove like an old lady, but Cass didn’t say a word about it as they tooled down the highway. This last time she’d come this way, Griff had been with her and nervous as a hooker in church about her heavy foot. She smiled, remembering.

  “What?” Sunny said. “Why are you grinning like a possum in a persimmon tree?”

  “I was thinking about something.”

  “Something or someone?” When she didn’t answer, Sunny said, “Griff Mitchell, I’ll bet. Are you getting serious about him, Cass?”

  She sighed. “I think so, and it may be a problem. Mom and Aunt Min don’t like him, and they can’t explain why. How do you feel about him, sis?”

  “He’s good-looking for sure. And charming and thoughtful. But…I don’t know, somehow I’m uneasy around him. Maybe it’s the cop in me. Ben and Sam feel the same way. I’m not sure how Belle and her other brothers feel, but I know Sam ran a check on him.”

  Cass bolted straight up, and only her seat belt restrained her from shooting to her feet. Fury zipped through her like an express train. “Dammit! I can’t believe he did that. Just because Griff doesn’t have a Texas drawl doesn’t mean he’s a sleaze. Wait till I get my hands on Sam Bass Outlaw.”

  “Calm down, Cass. You’re overreacting. Sam only did it because he cares about you. Don’t you want to know what he found out?”

  She crossed her arms and stared straight ahead. “No! I wouldn’t sink so low as to ask.”

  After a mile or two of silence, she relented. “Okay, what did Sam find out?”

  “Griff was born on Long Island, went
to Harvard, was the president of his class, also went to Harvard Law and graduated at the top of his class. He’s licensed to practice law in New York, and his record is clean as a whistle except for a couple of speeding tickets and a disturbing the peace citation when he was in college.”

  “I could have told Sam all that and saved him a world of time and trouble. I can’t believe he checked Griff out.”

  “Don’t be angry, Cass. Maybe it’s because none of us are used to being around rich folks from New Yawk, as you call it. You probably rubbed elbows with people like that when you lived there. We didn’t. Sometimes you distrust what’s not familiar. Maybe that’s what we’re feeling.”

  “Ben, too?”

  Sunny nodded. “Sorry. And maybe J.J.,” she added quietly.

  “Has the entire family been discussing Griff and his ‘slick’ ways?”

  “We aren’t trying to be nosy. We care about you.”

  “Let’s talk about something else,” Cass said. “I saw the Senator again. Saw him, hell. We had a conversation.”

  Sunny glanced over at her with a surprised look. “You did?”

  “I kid you not.”

  “What did you talk about?”

  “He told me to listen to the quiet voice inside me and follow my heart.”

  “Then I’d pay attention to his advice if I were you,” Sunny said. “He’s never steered me wrong.”

  “Maybe so, but his flitting in and out like he does makes me nervous. And speaking of nervous,” Cass said, thrumming her fingers against her thigh, “I’m itching to know what Carrie wants to talk with us about. Have you come up with any ideas?”

  “Not a one. I suppose we’re going to have to wait another few minutes to find out. Seems strange it’s Carrie, of all people, who wants to talk with us. And privately.”

  “Well, she’s a lawyer. But so’s Frank. And Belle, too, for that matter.”

  “Here we are,” Sunny said, turning in at their meeting place. “We’ll soon find out.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Drops of rain began to pelt the windshield as they pulled into a parking space in front of the diner. Sunny grabbed a collapsible umbrella from the backseat, and they made a run for the door. No sooner were they inside with the bacon and coffee smells than thunder boomed and a torrent of rain washed from the sky, hammering the metal roof like pebbles.

  Looking around, they spotted Carrie in a back booth. Smiling brightly, she rose and came to meet them. As always, Cass wondered at the amazing color of her eyes. They were a bright, stunning amethyst.

  “Good to see you,” Carrie said, hugging them in turn. “I was afraid you weren’t going to make it before the rain. I swear the clouds chased me all the way from Wimberley.”

  “It was sunshiny and clear in Austin,” Cass said.

  “I hope it makes it up our way,” Sunny added. “My flowers could use the rain.”

  Carrie led them back to the booth where she’d been sitting. “I’m having a cup of coffee already. Would you like some while we study the menu?”

  “Absolutely,” Cass said.

  Carrie held up two fingers toward the waitress behind the counter, and they soon had steaming cups in front of them. “What’s good here?” she asked as the waitress refilled her cup.

  “Everything’s good, but our migas are smokin’. Be right back for your order.”

  “You know, as a Texan I hate to admit it, but I’ve never had migas,” Carrie said. “I often see them on menus. What are they?”

  “Sort of Tex-Mex scrambled eggs, only better,” Sunny told her. “You start by sautéing small pieces of corn tortillas and add onion and chilies and anything else you want, then scramble all that with eggs beaten with a little cream or milk. Melt cheese over that, and top it with salsa and cilantro.”

  “It’s delish,” Cass added. “And practically a staple in Austin.”

  “Sounds fattening,” Carrie said. “I was going to have a poached egg and fruit.”

  Cass grinned. “Come on, Carrie, live it up. You can have it without chorizo or bacon to save calories.”

  Carrie agreed, and they all ordered the “smokin’” migas.

  As soon as the waitress left, Cass said, “I know we should ask about Frank and the kids and the rest of the family first, but my curiosity is killing me. What in the world do you want to talk to us about privately?”

  “It’s kind of heavy,” Carrie said. “Maybe we’d better wait until after the migas.”

  “Car-rie,” Sunny said. “You can’t leave us hanging like that.”

  “Sorry. You’re right. Let me start at the beginning. You know I used to be a landman for my uncle’s oil company, and I first went to Naconiche to lease property for drilling.”

  “Right,” Cass said.

  “Well, a lot of the property belonged to the Outlaw family. It had come down from old Judge John Wesley Hardin Outlaw to his two sons, Wes and Butch. Wes and his family were no problem, but since Butch was dead, I located his recorded will, and he’d left everything to his wife, Iris. I imagine the will was drawn up long before he met your mother.”

  Cass and Sunny looked at each other, and Cass wondered where this was going.

  “Iris remarried and moved out of state. Nobody was quite sure where she relocated, but intrepid researcher that I am, I found her. She didn’t want anybody in the family to know her whereabouts, so I agreed to keep all her information confidential.”

  “And she got the money?” Sunny said.

  “Yes.”

  “So?”

  The waitress returned with their order, and everybody dug into the tantalizing concoction, sensing perhaps that the migas might be less appetizing after Carrie’s tale.

  For a few moments, they ate without speaking. Finally Cass could stand it no longer and put down her fork. “Why are you telling us this?”

  “Iris Outlaw Bradford, who had been widowed a second time, recently died. Her lawyer contacted me as per her instructions.”

  “And?”

  “The bottom line is she left everything to the two of you.”

  “Good Lord!” Sunny’s fork clattered to her plate. “Why?”

  “I’m not quite sure,” Carrie said. “From what I know about the situation, I would assume it was guilt for keeping your father from marrying your mother. I had a feeling that’s why she left Naconiche.”

  “How much are we talking about here?” Cass said.

  “A considerable amount. The will is being probated, but as far as I can tell, you own your father’s part of the Outlaw land and the income from oil and gas production there. It’s a rich site, and it will be producing for quite some time.”

  “Holy guacamole!” Cass said.

  “I don’t know any particulars about her personal estate yet, but her lawyer, who is her executor, indicated she was well-fixed.”

  “You mean we’re rich?” Sunny said.

  “At least quite comfortable. Or you will be as soon as the estate’s settled. I was hoping it would be completed by this weekend so I could give you more particulars, but it will be another few days or perhaps weeks before everything can be turned over to you. Iris’s attorney also sent me this letter to give to the two of you. Perhaps it will answer most of your questions.” Carrie handed them the sealed envelope she’d taken from her bag.

  The twin’s names were typed across the front, along with “To be opened after my death.”

  Cass took it and used her knife as a letter opener. “Excuse us, Carrie. We can’t wait any longer.” She unfolded the pages and, holding them so Sunny could read, scanned the letter. Her mouth dropped open as she read. “Son of a bitch!” Anger boiled up hotter than molten lava.

  “Wrong gender,” Sunny said, “but I couldn’t have said it better. I hope she rots in hell! I don’t want her damned money!”

  “She murdered our father!” Cass said to Carrie. “Shot him dead on the steps of the capitol building.”

  Sunny tapped the page with her finger. �
�She admits it right here. No wonder the bitch felt guilty!”

  “Oh, dear God,” Carrie said, covering her mouth. “I’m so sorry. I never imagined…”

  Cass touched Carrie’s arm. “No need to be sorry. We’re not going to slay the messenger.” She handed the pages to Carrie to read.

  The migas lay congealing on their plates as they all three sat there, stunned by Iris’s confession.

  After a long silence, Sunny said, “Well, the case is finally closed. We’ll have to tell Wes right away.”

  “Would you like me to tell him?” Carrie asked.

  Sunny and Cass looked at each other, then nodded. “Please. I think we need some time to process this.”

  “I think you’re right,” Carrie said. “And don’t be too hasty to refuse the money and land. After all, it was your father’s birthright…and yours.”

  Cass nodded. “We need to wait until the estate is settled, and we have all the facts and some emotional distance from this.” She fluttered the pages.

  “You’re right,” Sunny said. “I feel like I ought to belly up to a bar and toss back a stiff one to settle my nerves, but I’d throw up. My stomach might never be the same again.”

  “I hear you,” Cass said. “Carrie, I know you’ll understand if we leave now. We have some concerns to discuss. We need some time to wrap our minds around this.”

  “I do understand. I wish I could do something to make the situation easier.”

  The waitress came over with the coffeepot and their check. “Something wrong with the migas?”

  “The migas were superb,” Cass said.

  “I’ll get the check,” Carrie said. “Go ahead.” She stood and hugged them both again.

  THE RAIN SOON SLACKED off, and they ran out of it entirely as they drove back to Austin. Cass reread Iris’s letter as they drove. Her initial anger had cooled a bit, and she struggled to study it with an objective mind. “‘If you can’t forgive me, at least I hope you’ll pray for my tortured soul,’” she read aloud. “You know, sis, I’m not nearly ready to forgive her, but I can sort of understand her. Our mother and father weren’t exactly blameless in this situation. He was, after all, a married man.”