by Kim Redford
She took a deep breath. This was powerful stuff—so sudden, so all-encompassing. Instant attraction. That was it. Hormones. Plus she’d been working extra hard, so she was off-balance. She was in a strange place. He was helpful and attentive. Nothing more.
“Maybe we ought to find Kemp and ask about Daisy Sue.” Rowdy’s voice had gone deep and mellow and a little rough around the edges.
She felt that roughness twine around her, binding her even tighter to him. She focused on breathing in and out, rebuilding her strength of will. This passion wouldn’t do…at least not right now with so much on the line.
Finally, she stepped forward and opened both doors, feeling as if she were leaving part of herself behind with him. Imagination. She was getting way too imaginative—in the wrong direction—out here on the ranch. She stepped into the foyer and heard him follow her. She wished she didn’t need him. She wished there was somebody else to help her. She wished she wasn’t backed into a corner.
“Kemp?” He shut the doors behind them.
“Right. Guess I’d better contact him.”
“Yeah.”
“Do you know him?”
“Not really. Far as I know, folks around here just know him enough to say hello when they meet him at the feed store or someplace in Wildcat Bluff.”
“Kemp hasn’t been around this area long, has he?” She glanced up, unable to resist looking at Rowdy again, even though just the sight of him upped her heart rate.
“No. When your family bought the Lazy Q, they hired him.”
“Maybe he worked at our Tarleton ranch.”
“Could be. He’s got an East Texas accent.”
“Like me?” She chuckled at the amusing idea, since folks did notice it. Of the five Texas accents, East Texas was the one most Southern, probably because it bordered Louisiana as a gateway into the Deep South.
“Yeah.” He grinned, revealing the dimple in his left cheek. “Real pretty.”
“Thanks. Yours isn’t bad either.”
“More Western, isn’t it?”
“Right.” And then she realized that they were kind of flirting and it felt good, almost like coming home after a long absence. “Uh, I’ll call him.”
“Okay.”
And yet she simply stood there looking at Rowdy while he looked at her. And it hit her. He had it as bad as she did. She felt a little thrill of excitement.
Finally, he turned away and walked into the living room, as if to give her privacy for the call.
She slipped the phone out of her pocket and hit speed dial for Kemp. Nothing. He didn’t pick up. She tried again. Still nothing. She followed Rowdy to the fireplace. A big blaze would be cozy and colorful for the Christmas party.
“No answer?”
“None.”
“If he’s out in a pasture, he probably doesn’t have cell coverage.”
“I suppose I need to know more about this ranch.”
“If it wasn’t for Daisy Sue, would you just let it rock along until after Christmas?” he asked.
“I really don’t have time to get up to speed right now.”
“Do you trust Kemp and the cowboys hired to work here?”
“My brothers would’ve made sure all was in order before ever turning the ranch over to me.”
“That’s a good start,” he said. “Maybe your assistant could follow up on Daisy Sue.”
“Won’t help a bit. A ranch isn’t my office’s area of expertise. At least not yet. We’re all focused on the Christmas party and the launch of Lulabelle & You Ranch.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“I need you for the house and grounds.”
“I’m here,” he said.
“Once I get hold of Kemp, we’ll have this Daisy Sue mystery solved, and all will be well on that front.”
“Hope so.”
“It will.” But she wasn’t quite so sure now that she thought about it because so far things weren’t going according to plan in Wildcat Bluff County. Yet surely now that Rowdy was on the job things would turn around in her favor.
“Why don’t I go outside and see about organizing what’s there.”
“Good idea.” She walked with him to the front door. “I’ll keep trying to get Kemp.”
As he stepped outside, a dark-blue boat of a Buick—nineties Park Avenue model—stopped on her driveway.
She followed him, wondering who could be coming to call, particularly since she hardly knew anybody. As she stood with him in the covered entry, all four doors of the huge car popped open, and four women stepped out. They had short silver or white hair topped with felt hats in a variety of designs and colors decorated with feathers. They wore colorful sweaters, knee-length skirts, and low-heeled shoes. They carried large leather handbags on the crooks of their left arms.
Belle blinked to make sure she was seeing correctly because their style had probably reached its peak in the fifties. Still, it suited their trim bodies with erect posture, as if they’d practiced walking with a book on their heads at a young age and never lost the knack.
“Best be on your toes,” Rowdy whispered. “They’re known as the Buick Brigade, since they drive matching vehicles and you rarely see one without the others. They’re close to ninety if they’re a day, and they know everything—absolutely everything—that goes on in Wildcat Bluff County. They’ve been friends all their lives, and they’ve outlived one or more husbands.”
“Why are they here?”
“They’ll let you know. They attend weddings, baby showers, graduations, and funerals. They make love matches. They comfort the sick. They feed the hungry—or at least provide food at most occasions.”
“I’m impressed.”
“If you’ve got their approval, you’re good to go. If you don’t, you’d best mend your ways.”
“Really?”
“They’re the matriarchs—mothers, grandmothers, and great-grandmothers of at least half the county. Everybody loves them, but—”
“Yes?”
“They’re tough. Meet-you-at-the-door-with-a-shotgun-cradled-in-their-arms kind of tough. But fair. Kind. Smart. And they love Wildcat Bluff County with the kind of devotion and protection that a mother gives her children.”
“Should I be worried that they showed up on my doorstep?”
“They must have heard about you.”
“And come to call or make sure I’m not a troublemaker?”
“A bit of both, most likely.”
“Guess I’d better be prepared for them. Anything else I ought to know?” She watched as one of the ladies leaned inside the Buick and pulled out a large plate wrapped in silver foil.
“They live in a small town named Destiny above the Red River. It was never much more than four Victorian mansions built side by side across the street from a row of clapboard businesses and smaller homes. Story is that four businessmen came from back East with plenty of money and a need to watch each other from their front porches. Maybe they were foes in the beginning, but they’re friends now.”
“That’s an odd tale.”
“Maybe it’s true. Maybe it’s not. If the Buick Brigade knows, they’ve never told.”
“And nobody asked, I bet.”
“It’d be flat-out rude to ask.”
“Everyone would like to know the truth, right?”
“Yeah…but good luck with that one.”
Rowdy stepped forward to greet the ladies as they moved up the walk with one carrying the covered plate ahead of her friends.
“Hello,” Belle called as she joined him.
“Good day to you. I’m Blondel.” She held out the plate. “And these are my friends Doris, Louise, and Ada.” She pointed to each one in turn.
“Pleased to meet you. I’m Belle Tarleton.” She accepted the plate with both hand
s, careful not to drop it. “Thank you so much.”
“Yes, we know who you are, dear,” Blondel said. “That’s why we’ve come to see you.”
“You came because I’m Belle Tarleton?”
“We’re here because of Lulabelle & You.” Ada tittered behind her hand, appearing mischievous. “We want to discuss fashion with you.”
Belle smiled around the group, feeling relieved that they were here for a happy reason. “Please come inside.”
“Rowdy, dearest.” Blondel pinned him with a sharp look. “Do get on with your work. This is lady business.”
“Okay,” he said. “But first, I want to know if those are cowboy cookies.”
“Oh yes.” Ada pointed at the plate. “And the whiskey I added to the sugar cookies is quite aged as Great-granddaddy made it in his own still.”
“Just what I hoped you’d say. If I’m promised cowboy cookies later, I’ll get back to work.”
Ada shook her finger at him. “Now that’s for the lady of the house to say since these cookies are our gift to her.”
“I’ll make coffee,” Belle said. “And I’ll be happy to share cookies.”
“Thanks.” He gave her a big grin, tipped his hat to the women, and walked away.
“Please come inside.” Belle gestured at the open front doors.
“Thank you,” Blondel said. “You are too kind.”
“Please have a seat in the living room.” Belle stood back as the women walked inside, moving almost as one instead of four. She quickly followed them, watching as they sat down without their backs touching the furniture.
“Lovely home,” Doris said. “I remember when it was built back in the eighties.”
“I plan to refresh the place.” Belle smiled around the group, not about to mention updates or upgrades because she didn’t figure her ideas would be appreciated by them. “Let me take these cookies to the kitchen. Would you like coffee, tea, or water?”
“Thank you, dear, but nothing for us,” Blondel said.
Belle quickly walked into the kitchen, set the plate—which turned out to be glass that would need to be returned—on the countertop, and went back to take a seat near them.
“Excellent,” Louise said. “Now, as you can imagine, we’ve come on a mission.”
“You mentioned my clothing line,” Belle said. “Is that it?”
“That was simply a ruse,” Ada said with a smile.
“The dude ranch?” Belle asked, wondering if they would like the idea and hoping they’d be supportive.
“No, dear,” Doris said.
“Daisy Sue?”
“Oh, dear, no,” Blondel said.
“What then?” Belle was clueless. “You’d like a donation to some worthy cause?”
“Thank you, but not at this time,” Ada said.
“I really thought you wanted to talk fashion.” Belle looked from one smiling face to the other, wondering how to persuade them to get to the point.
“You design beautiful clothes for cowgirls and ranchers,” Ada said. “That’s not our style, but we do appreciate it.”
“It’s a little closer to home than that,” Louise said.
“I’m afraid I don’t follow you.” Belle clasped her hands in her lap, deciding she just needed to wait for them even though she was used to getting right down to business.
“Rowdy.” Louise gave her a broad smile with mischief in her eyes. “Did you realize he’s known as the unluckiest cowboy in the county?”
“No.” Belle was surprised by the news.
“It’s true,” Blondel said. “And he is particularly unlucky in love.”
Belle was even more surprised at that announcement. “But he’s so…so attractive.”
“We think so, too,” Ada said.
“I guess there must be some reason, maybe a deep, dark secret.” Belle hated to learn that Rowdy wasn’t all he appeared to be.
“No,” Blondel said. “He’s simply unlucky.”
“Christmas is coming up,” Ada said.
“And it’s time his luck changed,” Louise said.
Doris pointed at Belle. “We’ve decided that you, Belle Tarleton, are going to single-handedly change Rowdy’s luck from bad to good.”
Belle felt her breath lodge in her throat, as if caught in some fairy tale where four wise women pronounced someone’s fate…and it always came true. She stared at them wide-eyed, unable to say a word.
All four ladies stood up in unison, smiling happily about their pronouncement.
Belle joined them, returning their smiles although not so happily, since she felt uneasy about the entire visit.
“You’ll be receiving little messages from us…” Blondel said.
“And if you faithfully follow each one…” Doris said.
“Rowdy and the entire county will celebrate…” Ada said.
“You as the star atop everyone’s Christmas tree,” Louise said.
Belle gave them all a bigger smile, deciding to treat the entire visit as something to be chalked up to quaint country customs. After all, it could’ve been just a visit, but they’d elevated it to a fairy tale. She really had to appreciate their creativity.
All four turned as one, gracefully walked to the front door, and then turned and smiled at her with twinkling winks.
She joined them outside, shepherding them to their big Buick and waving them away as they drove down the hill toward Wildcat Road.
Rowdy dropped a two-by-four and walked over to her. “What’d they want?”
“Are you really the unluckiest cowboy in the county?”
“Yeah. What of it?”
“The Buick Brigade has decided to change your luck.”
“That’s thoughtful of them.” He cocked his head. “What do you have to do with it?”
“I’m going to be careful not to prick my finger on a spinning wheel.”
“What?”
“I don’t want to sleep for a hundred years. I have a party to plan.”
“Maybe you need a nap. It’s been a long day.”
“How much whiskey do you think is in those cookies?”
“Let’s find out.”
Chapter 8
“I wish Ada had brought a bottle of her family’s famous whiskey instead of cookies made with whiskey. Not that her cookies aren’t great, but I’ve always thought they were a waste of good whiskey, no matter how tasty.” Rowdy sat at the bar in Belle’s kitchen and watched her pour coffee into two Lulabelle & You promotional mugs in the shape of cowboy boots. He appreciated her marketing creativity.
“It’s been that kind of day.” She set the mugs beside Ada’s pink pressed-glass, vintage plate.
He chuckled as he picked up a mug, eyeing the plate’s contents. “Cookies look drunk, don’t they?”
She laughed, too. “They do look like they ingested a bit too much whiskey and they’re a little out of shape.” She picked up one and bit into it, still smiling. “Delicious, though.”
“They’re supposed to be in shapes like stars, boots, and the state of Texas. She has special cookie cutters for them.” He selected a cookie, took a big bite, drank coffee, and chuckled again.
“They taste like sugar cookies, so aren’t they drop cookies?”
“Right.” He finished off the cookie. “Sometimes she’ll just drop the dough onto a cookie sheet and press it with the bottom of a glass dipped in sugar.”
“That sounds about right.”
“But she usually likes to get creative with her cookie cutters…not that it ever works out real well. We’ve been known to take bets on what the shapes are meant to be. I think she has a cow head with longhorns, and that one is always iffy. Plus she changes them every once in a while—probably finds cookie cutters to buy online.”
Belle pointed at the plate. �
��Fat boot maybe. Plump cloud?”
“Could be.” He chuckled as he picked up another cookie. “I’m guessing the Lone Star State on this one, but it looks more like Louisiana.”
“You’d think she’d figure out a way to make them come out right.”
“Perversity knows no bounds with some folks.”
Belle laughed as she selected another cookie. “You mean she likes to keep everybody in the county guessing at her cookie shapes?”
“Beats making it real clear, doesn’t it?”
“Maybe so.”
He picked up another cookie as he looked into Belle’s hazel eyes that shone with humor. He felt the moment coalesce into something that went way beyond sweet cookies…something that connected them at a deep level so personal, so intimate, so raw that she glanced away from him, shielding her gaze. But he’d seen enough. Heaven help them both. She was into him. And he was her worst nightmare.
She ate another cookie and drank more coffee, all while looking out a window.
“Help?” he asked.
“Yeah. Food usually does help. Like you said, it’s been a long day…between the brush fire, the lost Daisy Sue, and the Buick Brigade. I’m about ready to put my feet up till tomorrow.”
“You forgot to mention Kemp Lander.”
“Oh yeah.” She pulled her phone out of her pocket, hit speed dial, and shook her head when she received no answer.
“He’s probably out in some back pasture.”
“Maybe he went home for the day.”
“Where does he live?”
“No idea. We don’t have a bunkhouse. Kemp told me the cowboys live at their own homes.”
“That works.” He took a deep breath, wanting to say plenty but knowing it wasn’t his place to interfere with her ranch or her business.
