by Kim Redford
“No, I’m not.” He tamped down on his unhappiness because he felt more sad than angry.
Morning Glory leaned forward, long necklaces dangling around her neck chiming softly together. “You’ve come to chastise us, haven’t you?”
“I’ll be the first to admit I’m unlucky. That’s why I drew the short straw on this deal with Belle Tarleton.”
“We all agreed it was for the best to keep ideas like hers out of our county,” Bert said gently. “We’re talking big media, lines of vehicles, weekenders, and who knows what all.”
“That’s right,” Hedy agreed. “We invite folks here for our festivals several times a year so they can enjoy our Old West world…and we enjoy our visitors, too.”
“Belle wants hoards to be here year-round,” Mac said. “I don’t even know how the infrastructure could handle them.”
“I understand your concern.” Rowdy backed off a bit because he realized they hadn’t had the chance to get to know Belle the way he had over the past several weeks. “I felt it, too.”
“And now?” Hedy asked, pointing at his sweatshirt.
“She’s reevaluating her original idea.”
“Really?” Fern leaned forward with a smile on her face. “Would it have anything to do with Sure-Shot?”
“What do you mean?” Slade looked up from doodling on a pad of paper.
“None of us understood that she didn’t plan to establish a dude ranch, although that’s not a bad idea.” Rowdy looked around the group. “She wanted to expand the ranch into a learning center so city folks, particularly kids, could experience a working ranch, but her bigger goal was to expand it into a learning center for the creative arts.”
“Oh.” Morning Glory’s eyes opened wide. “But I thought the ranch was going to be a promotional tool for her Western wear line.”
“She’s a celebrity through Lulabelle & You. That means that lots of folks, like youngsters, reach out to her for support and information.”
“Like Storm.” Slade gave a sharp nod. “She can’t stop talking about Belle and all she’s learning and all their plans. I’ve never seen her so inspired by anyone…and I’m her favorite uncle.”
“You’re her only uncle.” Fern patted his hand, chuckling at the old family joke.
“She’s generous,” Rowdy said. “She has a dream of helping others, and she can do that through Lulabelle & You. I’m not saying she won’t use the ranch to promote her business, but that can help our community, too.”
Slade pointed at the sweatshirt. “I see she’s made a believer out of you.”
“I’ve spent enough time with her to understand that her heart is in the right place.” He looked around the group again. “And our hearts haven’t been.”
“That’s a harsh assessment,” Bert said.
“Dad, I’m ashamed to say I was ever part of trying to stop her.”
“Are we that far off the mark?” Bert asked.
“You met her. What do you think?”
“I like her.”
“I like her, too,” Hedy said. “But that doesn’t mean she can’t do Wildcat Bluff County harm.”
“Are you saying you think we should have let her have her head and do whatever she wants in our county?” Morning Glory asked.
“I’m saying she’s as strong-willed as any of us here, and she’s going to do what she’s going to do no matter what we say, do, or want.”
“I don’t understand,” Ivy said. “When I arrived here, not knowing what I was doing and being from the city, everyone went out of their way to help me. What’s different with Belle Tarleton?”
Rowdy stayed quiet, watching, waiting, as silence descended on the room and they looked from one to the other, evaluating her words.
“You’re right, Ivy, that’s who we’ve always been,” Hedy finally said.
“That’s who we are.” Morning Glory nodded in agreement.
“What’s so different about Belle?” Rowdy asked.
Hedy took a deep breath as she glanced down the tables. “Maybe she didn’t need us.”
“Maybe she appeared too high-powered for us,” Bert added.
“Maybe she flat-out scared us with her big-city ways and big honking ideas.” Morning Glory picked up her necklaces and ran her fingers up and down them.
“We’ve always been a little island of our own here,” Slade said. “It worked for our ancestors. It works for us.”
“But times change.” Ivy looked right at Rowdy. “If we’re willing to change, is she willing to change?”
“Good point,” Hedy said in agreement.
“She’s already changed.” Rowdy smiled at the group, proud they were coming around to his point of view.
“How do you mean?” Morning Glory asked.
“For one thing, the Buick Brigade decided to intervene in her life. And mine.”
Everyone around the table nodded, as if they’d been there, done that.
“I’ll say it again.” Fern tapped a forefinger on the tabletop. “Sure-Shot.”
“What do you mean?” Bert asked. “Bert…I mean, Rowdy, what do we have to do with Sure-Shot except our drive-in?”
“I bought this small piece of property because it came up for sale and it connected my ranch with Sure-Shot,” Craig said. “I’d been busy, so I hadn’t even bothered to look at it until I was driving around with Fern looking for another dance hall.”
“It’s special.” Fern took up the story. “Over a hundred years ago there was a one-room schoolhouse on the property.”
“I’d never heard of it before,” Morning Glory said. “Neither had Hedy.”
“And that’s odd,” Hedy said. “You’d think it would have been in our county’s history or at least handed down as a legend.”
“Is it intact?” Bert asked.
“Yes. It’s in good shape,” Rowdy said. “Belle and I were there not so long ago.”
“Why?” Mac asked.
“Buick Brigade.” Rowdy glanced around the group. “Y’all understand.”
“Right,” Hedy agreed. “Are you saying they reached out to Belle, instead of to one of us, about this one-room schoolhouse?”
“I’m a newcomer here,” Mac said. “Is that so strange?”
“If it wasn’t the Buick Brigade, I’d say yes,” Morning Glory said. “In this case, I’d say they want something done or discovered or—”
“What did you find?” Bert asked.
“There’d been a fire.”
“Oh no,” Hedy said. “And there wouldn’t have been Wildcat Bluff Fire-Rescue to save them.”
“The building is still intact, and it’s a beautiful structure,” Rowdy said. “But I think there was death there because someone built a memorial grove around the building so it was lost to sight.”
“And memory,” Morning Glory said.
“We still don’t know what happened, do we?” Fern clasped Craig’s hand. “We were hoping you and Belle would solve the puzzle.”
“We talked to Arn of the Crazy Eight,” Rowdy said. “He told us not everyone died in the fire, but it was the Buick Brigade’s story to tell.”
“What did they say?” Fern asked.
“We haven’t talked with them yet. Belle’s busy with her business. I’m installing a patio for her.”
“So, you are doing more work there,” Bert said.
Rowdy glanced around the group. “I’m telling you flat-out right now that I’m pulling out of our arrangement. It’s wrong. It was bad from the get-go. And we should make amends somehow.”
“Does she know about you…I mean, your name and all?” Hedy asked in a gentle tone.
Rowdy looked down at the table. “No. I’ve got to tell her, but I just haven’t found the way yet.”
“Son, it’s obvious you’re developing strong fe
elings for her. You’d better tell her before she finds out the wrong way.”
“I know.”
“Bert…uh, Rowdy, you’re right.” Hedy knocked with her knuckles on top of the table. “We overreacted to the news of Belle Tarleton with Lulabelle & You descending on our community with a bunch of cockamamie ideas.”
“I agree,” Morning Glory said. “And we turned lower than a snake’s belly. That’s not like us…not like us at all.”
“I agree, too,” Slade said. “Belle is good for my niece…and that means she can be good for the county.”
“Okay. I agree. But how do we make amends and help her?” Bert asked.
“First, stop getting in her way at her ranch. I’ve already done that. Second, we’re too busy with Christmas to do much of anything else. But—”
“What?” Fern leaned toward him.
“It’s about the schoolhouse.” Rowdy looked around the group. “Belle is full of ideas. As far as I can tell, they’re good ones.”
“Out with it,” Morning Glory said.
“She’d liked to reopen the schoolhouse. I guess to sort of heal the memory…and turn it into a learning center for the arts like she’d had in mind on her ranch,” Rowdy said. “Of course, Craig owns the property…and we don’t know the whole story about the fire, so it may not even be a good or feasible idea. I mean, it’d be a big investment, money, time, energy. The place is basic at best.”
“I like the idea,” Craig said. “Fern and I, we’ve kind of been haunted by the grove and the schoolhouse.”
“That’s right,” Fern agreed. “I’d like to lift the sadness there and replace it with happiness. And creativity.”
“I adore the idea,” Morning Glory said. “I can’t wait to see the building.”
“It’s a small, beautiful Victorian structure. You’ll love it,” Fern said.
“It’s just what our creative community needs.” Morning Glory grinned with excitement.
Hedy nodded in agreement. “However…if this involves the Buick Brigade, and it sounds like it does, we make no move without their approval. They might know something that makes going forward, even if we decide to do it, not a good idea.”
“Absolutely.” Morning Glory looked at Rowdy. “I take it they’ll probably only share information with Belle.”
“And maybe me.”
“Okay,” Hedy said. “That means you’re off one project and on to the next one.”
Rowdy glanced around the group again. “I just want to be clear that there’ll be no more interference in Belle’s life. Right?”
“Right,” Morning Glory agreed. “I regret our misguided actions.”
“Well, it worked,” Rowdy said. “She’s not going to have her Christmas party.”
“I feel bad about that,” Ivy said. “But I guess there’s so much else going on there’s not really time for it anyway.”
“That’s what I told her,” Rowdy said.
“We need to make it up to her.” Bert squeezed Hedy’s hand as he turned to her. “Don’t we?”
“We will, dear,” Hedy said. “But it’d be best for all involved, particularly Rowdy, that she never know—”
“How does he morph from Rowdy back to Bert Two?” Morning Glory clutched the chains around her neck in agitation. “If she’d gone away like we’d planned, she’d never need to know, but now…”
Rowdy groaned and shook his head.
“Son, you need to ’fess up. And the sooner the better,” Bert said.
“I guess we’ll all be in hot water with her soon.” Slade looked disappointed at the idea. “And just when we’d decided she was a keeper.”
“Okay,” Rowdy said. “I’m glad we’re all in agreement about Belle.”
“Tell her what she needs to know but no more.” Hedy gave him a gentle smile. “It’s the right thing to do.”
“Yeah.” Rowdy glanced down at his sweatshirt and rubbed his fingertips over the logo. “I get the short straw again, don’t I?”
“Yes, I’m afraid you do,” Hedy said.
“I really am the unluckiest cowboy in the county.”
Chapter 31
Okay, Belle admitted to herself. She was running around, rushing around, tying up loose ends, unraveling others—not make work but focused work—in an effort to keep Rowdy from telling her what she didn’t want to hear.
It was bad. She knew it was bad from the way she’d catch him looking at her with sadness in his eyes, as if he was close to the point of losing her forever. When he made love to her, it was with such intensity, such love, such passion that it might have been the very last time. It didn’t make sense. Then again, nothing had made much sense since she’d arrived in Wildcat Bluff County…and yet, in an odd way, everything made more sense than it ever had before in her life.
Still, maybe she should just pull up stakes and head back to the city…or put her plans into action in East Texas near her family. But there was Rowdy. Storm. The Buick Brigade. The one-room schoolhouse. And Daisy Sue. How many threads would she leave dangling if she left now? And…and she’d grown accustomed to the place, put down roots, felt at home here in a way she never had anywhere else in the world. Still, she was a practical businesswoman. Sometimes things just didn’t work out and you moved on to what did work.
If she lost Rowdy, would she stay? Could she stay, knowing she’d run into him here and there, knowing she’d eventually see him with another woman, knowing he’d never be back to Lulabelle & You Ranch? She felt heartsick at the thought, and yet…
She couldn’t make a final decision, not before Christmas anyway. Maybe she could put off whatever Rowdy had to tell her until after the holidays so she could enjoy the time in Wildcat Bluff County. Just ten days until all the big events…surely everything would remain stable until then.
She typed another email, fielded several phone calls, made notes on the summer line, and approved the next marketing campaign from her office that was still more warehouse than magazine layout for a CEO’s perfect working hideaway. She didn’t care. It’d all come together in time. She just had to keep meeting deadlines and avoiding Rowdy’s news. If she could hold all that together, then she’d happily get through Christmas. If not, well…she wasn’t going there.
By late afternoon, she was feeling pretty good about everything, even Rowdy. She was surely overthinking the situation. He was there for her, either working on her patio, pleasuring her in bed, or making suggestions for her life. She helped him here and there, but she still didn’t know enough about his life to be there for him like he was for her.
He was busy, just as she was. He was finishing up her patio or disappearing to work on the upcoming Christmas events in the county. Now he was moving forward with astonishing speed at her home. Of course, the shingles were still in front awaiting their final destination, but she’d sort of gotten used to them being there…at least the ones that hadn’t been stolen.
She decided to take a break and see if Homer and Aristotle were flying around outside surveying their territory. She walked into the kitchen, poured a cup of coffee, and headed for the back door. She stopped, cocked her head to one side, and listened. Had she heard something out front? The heater was running, so most sounds were muffled, but still… There, she heard it again. She’d better check. It was still daylight, so she could see what was going on, if anything.
She sipped coffee, feeling it warm and energize her before she set down her mug. She walked to the front door, opened it, and looked outside. She didn’t see anything move, but she hadn’t really expected to, so that wasn’t a surprise. She walked onto the porch, enjoying the cool, crisp air, and then ventured farther outside, gazing down the hill toward Wildcat Road. A red truck roared down the highway before being lost to sight.
She heard the sound of wings and glanced upward. Homer and Aristotle gracefully circled overhead before th
ey quickly descended to land on a shingle stack that was right beside the circular driveway. She didn’t remember shingles being that close to the drive, but in all the confusion, it wasn’t too surprising that she didn’t remember everything’s location.
When Homer and Aristotle cooed and began to clean their wing feathers with quick swipes of their beaks, she walked over to them. They were so beautiful in the sunlight, all glossy and sleek and iridescent. She had a sudden, sad thought. If she left the ranch, she’d leave them behind because this was their home of homes. She didn’t like the idea of leaving them at all.
She stroked the top of Homer’s head with the tip of one finger, and then she did the same thing with Aristotle. They cooed in response, appearing as happy as she felt. She smiled in pleasure, enjoying them. For now, she wanted nothing more complicated in her life than to hang out with two beautiful birds on a lovely winter day in North Texas.
And then she noticed a small piece of paper under Homer’s foot. It wasn’t a pigeon-gram but a blue-lined piece obviously torn from a small notebook like construction workers carried in their breast pockets for notes. It hadn’t been there earlier in the day. In fact—she stepped back to get a better look at the shingle stack—those shingles hadn’t been there either. What was going on in her front yard? Had Rowdy ordered replacements and had them delivered today?
She grabbed the note, but it’d been duct-taped to the shingles, so it ripped loose, leaving behind one corner. The paper was wrinkled, as if it’d been sweated on or rained on or dropped in a bathtub, but it didn’t matter because it was a message. She read, “Ladies say return. Merry Xmas.”
She looked from the note to the shingles to the note again, and then she glanced all around the area. Did this mean the thieves were no longer thieves but Santa in disguise? Maybe in this county if you didn’t have the funds for gifts you simple stole something and returned it at Christmastime. She just shook her head at the thought.
Homer cooed, flew over, and landed on her hand. He beaked one edge of the note, ripped it loose, and then gave her a knowing look with one dark eye.
“Are you telling me…ladies…Destiny…the Buick Brigade somehow or other persuaded the thieves to return my shingles?”
