by Kim Redford
And yet…trust was the basis of every relationship. If she couldn’t trust him, she couldn’t go forward with him, and she wanted that so very much. Maybe too much. And yet, from the very beginning, it’d been there between them, that special closeness, that special oomph, that special spark. Did she dismiss it all just because he’d asked her to trust him? She either did or she didn’t. If she didn’t, then this was it. But could his poem be meaningless? Surely not. He’d touched her and everyone with his words. Did she believe his poem, or did she believe her past experience? Did she trust her heart, or did she trust her mind?
She looked into his eyes as the band began to play another song.
He lifted his hand to her.
She glanced at his work-worn fingers, holding out such promise.
He smiled, revealing that little dimple in his cheek.
She returned his smile. Heart or mind? And then she knew she was going to take a chance on him. She’d known, even if she hadn’t admitted it, since the first moment he’d stepped down from his truck and sauntered over to her. She was going with her heart…and so she clasped his hand.
He leaned down and put his lips near her ear. “Let’s go. Nothing else suits me here anymore. You’re all I want.”
She felt a little thrill halfway between excitement of the present and fear of the future. He was all she wanted now, too.
Hand in hand, they left the dance floor and walked through an open doorway that led into the outdoor garden. It was a cool, crisp night with stars tossed like bright jewels across the dark sky. Heat and light blazed from the open fires in three metal barrels. Folks gathered at tables or in groups or warmed their hands over a fire as they chatted with friends.
Belle thought it was a lovely place to spend time, but on this night she simply wanted to be with Rowdy back at her house. As he led her around the side of the building, she heard footsteps running up fast behind them.
“Belle Tarleton, wait up!” a little girl called out.
She turned to see Storm Steele wearing a pink sweater, Wranglers, a crystal-encrusted belt with a huge buckle, and a pair of pink cowgirl boots. Sydney Steele and her fiancé, Dune Barrett, were right behind her, both looking concerned about the girl.
Storm came to a quick stop in front of Belle, put her hands on her hips, and leaned forward. “I’ve only got one word for you. Daisy Sue.”
Belle felt Rowdy squeeze her hand in encouragement before he let her go and stepped back.
“Please…” Storm said in a sad voice. “Can’t you just bring her home?”
Belle went down on her heels, feeling her heart go out to this child who loved animals so much that she’d created a world that starred Fernando the Wonder Bull and the love of his life, Daisy Sue.
“Fernando is sad.”
“I’m so sorry.” She held her hands up in helplessness. “I can’t locate Daisy Sue.”
“What!” Storm appeared horrified at the news.
Belle glanced up at Sydney and Dune. “I’m trying to find her. I sent my foreman Kemp to bring her home.”
“It doesn’t make a lot of sense,” Sydney said.
“Trust me, I know.” Belle looked back at Storm. “As soon as I can find Daisy Sue, I’ll let you know. Trust me.” And she realized she was asking to be trusted just like Rowdy had asked her…sometimes belief was all you had to offer someone.
Storm glanced down, shaking her head. “I’ll let fans know we’re searching for her.”
“I’d appreciate it if you let them know it’s not Lulabelle & You Ranch’s fault. This happened before I took ownership.”
“We understand.” Sydney stepped forward and squeezed Belle’s shoulder in a comforting way. “Things happen.”
“I’m doing all I can do.” Belle stood up.
Storm cocked her head to one side. “If you really want to do something—”
“What?” Belle asked.
“I believe it’d comfort Fernando if you came out and told him about the situation. It’s not far. We’re neighbors,” Storm said. “And you kind of owe us.”
“Uh…the bull?” Belle glanced around the group to see if they were taking Storm’s words seriously. They were.
“If you like, we could record the meet and greet.” Storm nodded in satisfaction. “Cross-promotion is never a bad idea.”
Belle looked at Storm a little more closely, realizing she was glimpsing herself in the past. She’d developed a passion for business early in life, too. She grinned, respecting this savvy little girl for her concern and her smarts.
“We could put the video up on both our websites,” Storm said. “I like your newsletter. You could mention Fernando and Daisy Sue there, too…if you want.”
“What else?” Belle wasn’t about to get in the way of this fascinating impromptu brainstorming session.
“You could always hire me as a fashion consultant,” Storm said. “I have great taste in clothes. Ask anybody.”
“Do you think my clothing lines need help?”
“Once Daisy Sue disappeared and you showed up, I did a little research on Lulabelle & You.”
“Really.”
“Yeah. Always do your groundwork.”
“I’ve said that myself many a time.”
“Never hurts to hear it again.”
“I’ve said that, too.”
Storm gave Belle a closer look. “Maybe you have a little bit on the ball.”
“I’ve been known to get things right once in a while.”
“Me, too.” Storm grinned, giving Belle an approving nod.
Belle grinned back, returning the nod.
“You started that line of kids’ clothes.”
“Right.” Belle crouched down in front of Storm, getting into the discussion. “I decided it was an underrepresented area of Western wear.”
“Good idea.” Storm leaned closer. “Trouble is, you’re appealing to parents and grandparents.”
“They’re the buyers.”
“Past tense.” Storm rolled her eyes. “Kids get money. Kids get whiney. Kids get what they want.”
“Point taken. Solution?”
“Take girls…more pink, more rhinestones, more glitter. And this may surprise you, more accessories to give a feeling of rich detail.”
“How do you feel about bandanas?”
“Use them to style up or down?”
“Either/or.” Belle leaned forward this time. “I’m working up a list. ‘101 Uses for a Bandana.’ What do you think?”
“Promo?”
“Absolutely.”
“How’s it going?”
“I’m getting there.”
“Do you really think anybody will take the time to read that many uses?”
Belle sat back on her heels, suddenly wide awake. “I thought it was a catchy number. Do you think it’s too many?”
“Well, yeah…unless you’re going to break it up over a series of newsletters. Maybe you ought to ask your readers to write in with their suggestions.” Storm pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Interaction is always better on social media, don’t you think?”
“Yes, of course.”
“I rest my case.”
“It’s a good one.”
“Okay. That’s solved.” Storm gave Belle a sharp-eyed look. “Now…about Fernando.”
“Cross-promotion is a good idea, particularly since we’re neighbors.” Belle stood up again. “Great graphics are a must. I have a home office. You could come over.”
“I have a home office, too. When you come to see Fernando, we could convene there.” Storm’s hazel eyes turned crafty. “Fernando T-shirts have been selling well. You might want to consider a Fernando or Fernando and Daisy Sue Western wear line.”
“Oh my.” Belle absolutely loved Storm’s cocky attitude. “I’d
need to see the numbers.”
“I’d need to see the designs.”
They stopped, looked at each other, and laughed together.
Sydney held up her mobile phone. “Why don’t we get a picture of the three of you?”
“Right!” Storm grabbed Belle’s hand and then Rowdy’s hand and grinned at the camera.
“Belle, you might just make a good addition to the county,” Sydney said.
“I’m always on the lookout for talent. It’s one of the reasons I took over the ranch.”
“Really?”
“I thought it’d be a good place to support the arts in all their many forms, but particularly for youngsters just developing their creative talents.”
“How would you do it?” Sydney asked.
“I’m not sure yet. I want the ranch to be accessible to city kids who don’t have a chance to interact with animals or develop their creative talents in a country setting.”
“That’s a tall order,” Sydney said.
“And I want to support the local arts, too.”
“That’s something we need right now,” Dune said. “Our high school had its funding for the arts cut. We’ve been trying to figure out how to go forward from here.”
“I had no idea,” Belle said. “I’m glad you told me.”
“We’re thinking about a fund-raiser during the holiday.” Sydney shrugged, shaking her head. “But with so much going on already, we just haven’t put it together yet.”
“It wouldn’t be enough anyway,” Dune said. “It’d be stopgap, and we need something more permanent.”
“I won the Fernando jackpot last Christmas when folks donated in the contest to guess what time Fernando made it home after being snatched by cattle rustlers. I donated my winnings to the school program,” Rowdy said. “But it didn’t last long.”
“Like I said, we need something more permanent.” Sydney glanced around the group. “Hopefully, somebody will come up with something soon.”
“Right,” Rowdy agreed.
“For now, you’re welcome to come over and see Fernando any time,” Sydney said.
“Thank you. I’ll stop by.”
“About that fashion consultant business,” Storm said.
“Yes?”
“I work cheap.”
“How cheap?”
“Clothes.”
“Samples?”
“Done.” Storm looked thoughtful. “But if I model, that’ll cost you.”
Everyone broke out in laughter except Storm, who looked serious…and Belle, who gave the young entrepreneur a knowing wink.
Life was definitely looking up in Wildcat Bluff County.
Chapter 19
When Rowdy turned under the shiny, new sign for Lulabelle & You Ranch and drove over the cattle guard, he felt relieved on several accounts. First, nobody had slipped up and called him Bert Two at Wildcat Hall. Mostly they hadn’t called him anything, which suited him fine. Second, Belle had made friends, or maybe “business acquaintances” was more accurate, with Storm and Sydney. Maybe now they could become allies in the hunt for Daisy Sue. Third, he’d given it up with Belle—and this should have been number one—so she knew exactly how he felt about her. She’d responded even better than he’d ever imagined in his lust-filled fantasies. Maybe it had been the poem, the song, or the dance. It didn’t matter. All that mattered now was that she was in his pickup, and he was taking her home, and he was going inside, and he hoped against hope he’d get to see her bed. Unmade.
But that dream was cut short when his headlights swept across a one-ton, eight-foot-wide truck that had been backed up to the front of Belle’s house. Its tailgate was down, and two muscular guys in T-shirts, jeans, and boots were grabbing heavy packages of shingles and tossing them into the bed of the truck.
“They’re back.” Belle pulled her phone out of her purse. “I’m calling Sheriff Calhoun.”
“No way can he get here in time. Big county.”
“Maybe he or a deputy is nearby.”
“Doubtful. Go ahead and call, but I’m not waiting around.”
She punched the sheriff’s phone number on speed dial.
“Those guys aren’t taking any more of your shingles.” He hit the brakes, stopped his pickup, reached under his front seat, pulled out his Sig P320, and set the .38 with its safety engaged in his lap.
“Sheriff Calhoun, this is Belle Tarleton. Those shingle thieves are back. We’re headed up to the house right now.”
Rowdy gave her a quick glance before he gunned the engine. He was so ready to nail those guys…and he’d like to use a power nail gun to do it.
“I sincerely doubt Rowdy is going to wait for you. Me either.” She listened to the sheriff’s response. “Thank you.” She set her phone back in her purse. “He’ll be here as soon as he can make it.”
“You might be in danger. Will you get down in front of the seat and stay out of sight?”
She looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “Got another one of those Sigs?”
He grinned, chuckling at her response. “You’re already dangerous. I’m not sure I can handle you armed and dangerous.”
“You’re not the one who needs to be worried. Those thieves are the ones in my line of sight.” She sat up straighter. “I’m tired of playing nice in this county. It’s not getting me anywhere.”
“Did you just join the Buick Brigade?”
“Now that you mention it, I’d like to be driving a big ole boat of a car right now. I think it could do some serious damage. Those guys would think twice before they ever stole shingles again.”
Rowdy grinned even bigger… If he’d thought she was hot before, now she was positively on fire. And he was ready to burn up her bed.
He sped up the long drive, but the guys had seen him. One leaped into the driver’s seat while the other jumped into the bed of the pickup on top of the shingles, ran across the stacks, and grabbed the headache rack with one hand as his partner tore out across the lawn.
Rowdy left the driveway to head off the thieves, but they cut a wide swath around him through the grass, dodging trees, plowing through shrubs as they headed for Wildcat Road. He followed them, gunning his engine, tearing up the lawn, staying right on their tail end that was illuminated by the row of red lights across the top of the cab and the red running lights that outlined the sides. The guy in the bed of the truck held tight to the horizontal, steel-bar headache rack across the cab’s back window to keep from being thrown over the side. He made a dark silhouette in the pickup’s headlights.
Rowdy hit his bright lights, hoping to blind the driver so he’d slow down or stop and give up, but the guy gunned his engine, plowed through the front fence, and landed on the highway going as fast as he could control his vehicle.
Not about to give up at this point, Rowdy stayed near the truck’s back bumper even as the thieves upped their speed. They rocketed down the road, head to tail like two railroad cars shackled together.
“It’s not worth endangering us.” Belle slipped the Sig from his lap and held it with both hands. “I bet they’ve got a record, so they’ll do whatever it takes not to get caught.”
“I won’t let them get away.” He gritted his teeth as he gripped the steering wheel with both hands and kept the pedal to the metal.
“If a deer leaps into the road…or even an armadillo or a raccoon or a cow wanders out of a pasture…we’d be in a world of hurt.”
“I know, but still…”
And then he could hardly believe his eyes because the guy in the bed of the truck reached down with one hand while clinging to the headache rack with the other and ripped the plastic open on a bundle of shingles. He pulled a long shingle free and slung it outward like a Frisbee. The sharp edge of the cold shingle—much like a hard tile—hit the pickup’s windshield with a loud crack. A zigzag
pattern moved outward from the hit to obscure Rowdy’s vision. Soon he could hardly see through the spreading cracks in the glass, but he kept right up with the truck. He wasn’t about to let the thieves get away.
Another shingle came flying out of the back of the vehicle, cleaved through the air, and caught under Rowdy’s windshield wiper. Now he had to lean to one side and look between the cracks and the shingle to see the road at all. But he stayed steady, keeping up his speed as he bird-dogged the truck.
The thief kept jerking shingles out of the package, slinging them outward, and hitting the pickup with one blow after another. Rowdy dodged the flying missiles as best he could, jerking his steering wheel back and forth, so most of the shingles hit the cowcatcher, bounced to the side of the road, and cartwheeled onto the grass. But enough hit dead center in front of his view, again and again, until the windshield finally cracked hard enough to spew shattered glass.
He ducked his head and hit the brakes as the sharp shards covered him like sugar crystals. He stopped the pickup on the side of the road, glanced down, saw his clothes were covered in bits of glass, and shook his head in disgust.
“Are you okay?” He flipped on the overhead light and glanced at Belle.
“I’m fine. You’re the one covered in glass. Are you hurt?”
“Not much. Just mad as hell.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah.” He looked through the open windshield and caught the scent of diesel as the thieves roared down the road. They’d bought enough time with their shingle stunt to get ahead. He turned off the overhead light and hit the gas again, determined to catch up.
“Please, just let them go. It’s not worth the danger to us.” Belle leaned toward him, concern lacing her voice.
“If we let them get away, we’ll never catch them again.”
“It’s not that much money involved in the theft.”
“It’s the principle.” He glanced at her again and then back at the road. “And the fact it’s you.”
