A Cowboy Christmas Miracle (Burnt Boot, Texas Book 4) (16 page)

“I think she smells the lie and is curious,” Declan said. “She’ll leave pretty soon. The desk clerk isn’t allowed to give out information about guests.”

“Too bad it’s against the law to shoot people like that. We were nice to her.”

Declan chuckled. “You can’t shoot her. You don’t have a gun.”

Betsy inhaled deeply and let it out in a whoosh. “I never leave home without a gun. Dammit! I hope to hell she doesn’t go pokin’ around our vehicles. That pink truck stands out like a sore thumb out there.”

“You are a legitimate guest here, and, honey, I never leave home with the tags on my truck that really go with it. Right now, I’m running Oklahoma tags from a 2001 truck that is sitting in a junkyard.” Declan flashed another of his heart-stopping grins.

Betsy eyed him. “Why?”

“Protection. Oh no!” He gasped.

“What?” she asked.

“Speaking of protection…”

“I’m on the pill.”

He swiped a hand across his forehead in a dramatic gesture. “I should have asked, but when I’m with you, I’m worse than a teenager. And, Betsy, the thing about protection with the truck is not against jealous husbands. I don’t date or go to bed with married women. It’s just that I’ve been caught speeding so often that I can’t afford to get caught again and lose my license. So I’ve got a couple of fake ID’s and a bunch of truck tags just to keep me out of jail. If I can stay out of trouble for six months, then I’ll be fine.”

“I didn’t ask,” she said.

“I know, darlin’, but I want you to know that.”

“Thank you. I swear I’m trading in that pink truck for a black one, or a maybe a white one. You see a lot of those on the roads, so no one would recognize it. Do you reckon you could get me one of those junked plates sometime?” she asked.

“Got a few extra in the barn. I’ll bring you one next time we go to the storage unit.”

Betsy listened to the radio all the way home on the slippery roads Monday afternoon. Because of the bad weather, the hotel had generously offered all its guests a late checkout at two o’clock that day. Declan had left first, and she had made one more sweep through the room to be sure nothing had been left behind—especially anything that would identify either of them if that nosy lady from the newspaper came snooping around.

Bless his heart, Declan had parked a mile down the road from the hotel and waited for her. Every so often, she’d check the rearview to make sure that Declan was still back there behind her, seeing to it that she got home with no problems. She tapped the steering wheel to Miranda Lambert’s singing and then to an old classic from Dolly Parton. She wondered if he was listening to the same station she was or if he had a CD in.

She’d just pulled into town when her phone rang. She touched the face and put it on speaker. “I’m about to turn in to the ranch lane, Mama,” she said.

“I thought you might be getting close to town. Go on down to the store. Gladys has it open today. I called in my supply list, and she’ll have it ready for you. And pick up a package of those chocolate cookies your daddy likes so well. I don’t have time to bake, since it’s taking all hands to keep the chores done in this weather. I’m glad you’re home. We need you here,” Willa said.

She kept going until she reached the store, came to a long, slippery slide in the parking lot and almost lost her footing when she stepped out. When Declan’s truck went past, she came within a split second of throwing her hand up to wave at him. Giving herself a solid talking-to about being cautious, she kicked the snow off her boots before she entered the store and wiped them again on the rug right inside the door.

“Hey, we been lookin’ for you for an hour,” Gladys said in a gruff, gravelly voice.

“Might as well get a cup of coffee and tell us how things look between here and Gainesville,” Polly said from behind the counter.

“Looks like the whole gang is here.” Betsy smiled.

“Yep,” Verdie said, “we all got a case of cabin fever, and Jill was needed on the ranch today to help Sawyer take care of things, so we decided to run the store together and catch up on all our visitin’.”

“I didn’t realize it until right now, but y’all are now officially shirttail kin since you are all three affiliated in some way with the O’Donnells,” Betsy said.

Gladys poured a cup of coffee, handed it to Betsy, and pointed at a chair. “That’s right, but we been closer than blood kin for years. You might as well sit a minute.”

The store hadn’t changed in Betsy’s lifetime. A white frame building, it had a porch across the front, big windows that looked out onto the gravel parking lot and two gas pumps. A meat counter stretched across the back of the store. A freezer took up one side, and down the middle, there were two rows of canned and bottled merchandise and a row of produce. One of the end cases toward the front had a candy display that had caught Betsy’s eye when she was a little girl and did the same that afternoon.

“Put one of those chocolate bars on the ticket.” She set her coffee down and picked out one with nuts and caramel.

“It’s on the house,” Gladys said. “Did you stay at the Hampton in Gainesville?”

Betsy removed the paper from the candy bar and nodded. “That’s where Iris and I usually stay when she’s in town. The mall is all but a ghost town, but the hotel is right by the Cracker Barrel, so we don’t have to go far to eat.”

Polly pushed the morning paper across the counter. “Did you see these people?”

“We didn’t think we’d even get the paper today, but I guess the roads were cleared up enough that the carrier could get through. It came late, but it got here,” Gladys said.

“The paper is calling them the mystery couple and is offering a free year’s subscription to anyone who can identify them and tell where they live. It’s a contest that’s going to run until Christmas,” Verdie said.

Betsy swallowed hard and fast to keep from choking on the candy in her mouth. “So that’s who built that big snowman in the parking lot. It was really something. Iris and I saw it from the window of our room.”

“Are you gay?” Verdie asked bluntly.

Betsy had just taken a sip of coffee, and she spewed it all over her coat and the floor. “Why would you ask that?”

“You go see this Iris pretty often, and no one has met her. Lord God Almighty, Naomi would probably pass little green apples if she found out you were gay, so I just thought maybe you were keeping it a secret,” Verdie said.

“Well, I am definitely not gay. Iris is my friend, but I don’t want her all up in this feud stuff. What if she came to Burnt Boot and fell for a Brennan? Then Granny would pitch a fit every time I mentioned her name,” Betsy said.

“Well, that settles that,” Polly said.

“And Naomi would pitch if Iris fell in love with a Brennan.” Verdie nodded. “You’re a smart woman, Betsy.”

Gladys shoved the paper across the counter. “Look real careful at the pictures. I’d like to win that contest.”

Polly chuckled. “You’ve got a two-year subscription to that paper, old woman. You’re just nosy.”

Betsy studied the picture on the front page. There she and Declan were, backs to the camera, putting the hat on the snowman. Thank God her hair was covered, because the picture was in living color. The cutline identified them as Joe and Maria Wiseman, and the short article said that more pictures could be found inside on page five.

Betsy flipped the pages, and there was a half-page spread of pictures. One of her and Declan holding hands as they walked back to the hotel, and one of them coming toward the photographer right after they’d put their ski masks back on. Thank goodness they were taken far enough away that his brilliant-blue eyes didn’t show up, or someone could have recognized him.

“Are Joe and Maria Wiseman really their names? Are they really newlyweds? The mystery of the folks who left a snowman behind will be solved,” the cutline said.

“So did you see them?” Gladys asked.

“No, but whoever took this picture right here has got things all wrong.” Betsy pointed to the one with nothing but fingertips coming out of the door to take a business card. “I can’t believe this.”

“What?” All three women leaned forward in their metal folding chairs.

“That says room 312 on the door. That’s the room I was in. This is all a big hoax. I bet that newlywed couple didn’t even stay in that hotel. They probably live right there in Gainesville and were shooting that reporter a line of horse crap.”

“Who was in there with you? That hand is too big to be yours,” Gladys said.

“Iris is six feet tall and gripes that she has hands like a man. She said that a woman said she was looking for the Wisemans and handed her a card. We laughed about it and then she got a call saying that the roads were clear, so she left. I ordered pizza and watched movies all evening after that. I wonder who they are and what their story is.”

“I was so sure that we’d figure out who those people were.” Verdie huffed. “Hey, did y’all hear that Lottie Miller is having an estate auction this week? Sorry time to have it, with all this weather, but take a look on the back page, Betsy. She’s selling off her house, her furniture, and all her Christmas stuff. Auction is Wednesday, and if things don’t thaw, there won’t be many folks there.”

Betsy turned to the back page of the paper and ate her candy bar while the ladies talked about how long Lottie had been in Burnt Boot, what all she used to do for the church, and how wonderfully her crocheted items always sold at the bazaar.

“That’s back when we had a bazaar.” Polly sighed. “I always liked that, but then the feud got in the way, and we had to stop having it.”

“Hey, don’t look at me. It’s not my fault that I was born a Gallagher,” Betsy said. “I see that she’s selling her acreage too, but not at the auction. It doesn’t say how much she has.”

“Five hundred,” Gladys said. “A good start, and it could raise a family if folks worked hard at it. It’s been cleared and is good grassland so it would support a good herd.”

“Sounds like a nice place.” Betsy folded the paper. “Now, what can you tell me about the love war? Mama says that Granny and Mavis are at it again over Angela’s brother, John, and Honey Brennan.”

“Latest news is that Angela and Jody are moving back into one of the cabins out there on Wild Horse because Naomi pitched a fit about John going to River Bend for supper on Saturday night,” Polly said.

Gladys shrugged. “I heard he had quite the sermon prepared for church on Sunday about folks who don’t forgive and who keep a stupid feud alive when it should have been buried years ago. When Naomi heard what he was going to talk about, she told him to leave Wild Horse, and that made Angela mad, so she insisted Jody move her back into her own place.”

Verdie picked up the story when Gladys paused for a sip of coffee. “Mavis is tickled to death with the whole thing. She told John he could stay on River Bend indefinitely. Only trouble is that he likes Honey a lot, but I hear that he’s way too wild for her.”

Betsy’s eyes popped open so wide that a pain shot through her temples. “Too wild for Honey? He’s a preacher.”

“That’s what I heard,” Verdie said. “He’s looking for a wife, and he wants her to move up around Waurika, Oklahoma, which is where he and Angela and our preacher, Kyle, are all from.”

“But they only met a couple of days ago. Wife?” Betsy said.

“That’s the rumor.”

“Wow! A lot can happen in a short time around here.”

“Yes, it can, and since the weather is bad and John didn’t get to preach Sunday, he’s staying the week at the parsonage, so Kyle can have a few more days to help his sweetheart plan their wedding,” Polly said.

“I thought Mavis said he could stay at River Bend,” Betsy said.

“She did, but he said he’d rather stay at the parsonage, on neutral ground.” Verdie smiled, softening the wrinkles in her face. “Do you think he and Honey will have some hanky-panky out there in the parsonage?”

Betsy felt the blush rising, and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it. “If they do, they’d better be careful. Burnt Boot has eyes everywhere.”

The bell above the door rang, and all four women turned to see Declan pushing his way into the store. “Mornin’, ladies. Granny needs a couple of whole chickens. She’s making dumplin’s for supper. Where’s Jill?”

“Helpin’ Sawyer with the cattle today. We’re runnin’ the store. Heard you got stuck in Gainesville for a couple of nights. Have you seen today’s paper?” Polly asked.

Declan nodded. “Yes, I did. Y’all talking about that mystery couple?”

Betsy handed it up to him without meeting his eyes. “There’s a contest going on, but they goofed. I was in room 312 with my friend Iris. The mystery couple must have been somewhere else.”

“Great-lookin’ snowman. I wonder what all the excitement is about this couple. Looks to me like they didn’t want anyone to know who they were, so folks ought to leave them alone. Honey showed me the paper the minute I got in the house and wanted to know if I’d seen the snowman,” he said.

Gladys ambled back toward the meat counter. “I betcha they’re both married to someone else.”

“Well, if that’s the case, they’d better hope no one finds out their identities,” Polly said. “Changing the subject here. Is River Bend going to buy Lottie’s property?”

“Not that I know about. It’s across the road from us.”

“I might buy it,” Betsy said.

The store went silent. She had their full attention. Even Gladys stopped in her tracks and turned around.

“Oh really, and why would a Gallagher want Lottie’s place when it’s not connected in any way to Wild Horse?” Declan asked.

“I’ve wanted my own place for a while. It would be a good starter ranch, and I like that small house of hers,” Betsy said. “I should be going. Mama is waiting on the groceries. Thanks for the coffee. Y’all all have a good afternoon with your visiting, and if you figure out who those folks are in the paper, let me know.”

She found the note in her seat when she got into the truck but waited until she was on Wild Horse property before she stopped her truck and read it. Declan had seen the paper and warned her about it, told her that the weekend was amazing and he’d never had so much fun, in and out of the hotel, and he said he intended to drop by the bar that evening.

The first thing her mother did when she was in the house was ask her about the couple in the paper; the next was to tell her that her grandmother had forgiven her, what with the new development between Angela and Naomi, and that she was free to go back to the big house anytime she wanted.

“Amazing,” Betsy said as she set the brown paper bag of groceries on the counter. “I forgot to get Daddy’s cookies. Gladys, Verdie, and Polly were all minding the store today, and they got to talking about that paper thing and I forgot.”

“Don’t worry. There’s still half a pecan pie in the fridge.” Willa pulled her dark hair down from a ponytail and fluffed it out. “He won’t starve. So you saw the snowman but not the couple?”

“That’s right, but the room number is wrong.” Betsy went on to give her mother the same explanation that she’d given the ladies in the store. She had to come clean about that much, in case some amateur sleuth started digging into the story for their fifteen minutes of fame and found out it was registered to Betsy Gallagher. “Maybe the mystery couple was staying in 212 and whoever took the picture got mixed up.”

“Maybe so. Guess the ladies told you about Angela’s brother staying at the parsonage.” Willa rolled her eyes toward the ceiling.

A blast of cold air shot through the kitchen when Henry pushed the door open. “Well, well! Look who finally came home. I thought we were going to have to come get you in a one horse open sleigh.” He hung his coat on a hook and kicked off his wet boots. “You see the paper?”

“I did see the paper, Daddy, but what interests me most is Lottie Miller’s place.”

“I thought you might like that sweet little acreage, so I called her this morning.”

Betsy inhaled and held it. “And?”

“Price is reasonable, and with this weather, she’s not going to do a bit of good at an auction. You want to go over there and take a look at it tomorrow morning? She says she might call the auction off and sell as is, lock, stock, and barrel, if someone is willing to buy it as such,” Henry said.