Catch Me a Cowboy (13 page)

Billy had never thought of Lyle as more than a means to an end. But as he drove down the tree-lined road, he couldn’t help but feel jealous of the man. Which was just plain crazy. The man was dead, for God’s sake. And even if he hadn’t been, he had nothing that Billy wanted. Nothing at all.

The circular driveway was located at the end of the road, but instead of pulling up in front, he pulled around back by the six-car garage. As he climbed out of the truck, Billy glanced around. Sure enough, there was Kenny Gene sitting up in the cedar tree right next to the garage with a pair of binoculars as big as he was.

Billy took a moment to control his laughter before he strutted over. “Hey, Kenny Gene.”

“Shhh.” Kenny held a finger to his lips. “I’m on duty.”

“So I heard.” Billy stared up at the man, who was dressed in a camouflage vest and pants that had to be hot as hell in this afternoon heat. “You see anything suspicious?”

Kenny made so much racket climbing down from the tree that he scared a flock of white-tailed doves from the underbrush in the open field next to the garage. They took to the sky in a loud flap of wings.

“As suspicious as a snake in the grass,” Kenny said. He had almost reached the ground when he got one boot caught in a branch, and Billy had to grab him to keep him from taking a nosedive into the driveway. As soon as he was on his feet, he grabbed Billy’s t-shirt and pulled him around to the side of the garage. “We can’t be too careful. The man is up to no good, I tell you.”

“So he’s in there.” Billy leaned around the corner of the garage and squinted at the huge floor-to-ceiling windows.

“Shore is.” Kenny gave Billy a pointed look. “And so is Shirlene.”

“You don’t say?”

Kenny nodded. “Shirlene ain’t left the house since I’ve been watchin’. While the suspect,” he glanced down at his watch, “left at 9:15 a.m. on the dot and returned at 10:32. Except this time, instead of goin’ through the front door, he just pulled right on in the garage like he owned the place.”

“That does sound suspicious.” Billy looked down at the binoculars. “So you been here all night?”

Kenny nodded. “Sam was gonna relieve me, but he needed to have a meetin’ with the mayor.” He perked up. “You didn’t by any chance bring me somethin’ to eat, did ya? A donut? A Payday? A stick of Trident?”

“Sorry, buddy,” Billy shook his head. “I just came out to say ‘hey.’ ” He peeked around the corner again. “But I tell you what, if you want to go grab something and get some shut eye, I’ll keep an eye on things here until you get back.”

Kenny looked a little doubtful. “I shore appreciate the offer, Bubba. But I don’t know if Sam would like me passin’ off my official duties to someone who isn’t as highly trained as I am.”

Billy looked down at the ground and tried not to smile. “Well, there is that. ’Course what Sam don’t know won’t hurt him. And since Beau just got back, he probably won’t be going out again soon. By the time he does, you should be back at your station.”

It only took Kenny Gene a second to slap the binocu
lars in his hands. “Be careful with them. They ain’t standard equipment.”

Once Kenny had gotten in the truck parked out behind the garage, he gunned the engine and left in a spray of gravel. If the birds hadn’t attracted Beau’s attention, Kenny’s exit sure would’ve. Billy was still shaking his head when he walked around back to the patio doors. The sun reflected off the sparkling glass, forcing Billy to cup his hand around his eyes in order to see in.

Beau sat at the breakfast counter, a newspaper spread out in front of him and a cup of steaming coffee within reach. He picked up the coffee and took a sip, his gaze lifting from the newspaper and over to the French doors. He choked and came up off the bar stool, spilling coffee all over his pressed western shirt. Billy was still laughing when he pulled open the door and walked in.

“Not funny, Billy,” Beau turned and reached for a paper towel. “I could’ve been scalded.”

“I should do more than scald you,” Billy stated as he strode into the kitchen. “I should whup your butt. Who the hell told you that you could live in Shirlene Dalton’s house?”

Beau swiped at his shirt and yelled like the twenty-five-year old he was. “I made the decision myself! I was tired of driving fifty miles each way to that crummy hotel room, especially when this house was sitting completely empty. And since you and Brant said I was just as much a part of the company as you two are, I figured I had a right.”

“Well, you figured wrong.” Billy set Kenny’s binoculars on the counter before moving over to the automatic coffee maker. “When we said you were part of the company,
we meant the part that takes orders, not the part that gives them.” He poured a cup of coffee and took a sip.

“Well, I’m through taking orders,” Beau said. “You can play the dumb country hick who lives in a beat-up trailer if you want. But if I have to hang out in this Podunk town, I want a little comfort… and some fun.”

Billy turned and looked at his brother. Beau was the spitting image of their daddy right down to the gray hair. Hair that had been the same color as Billy’s before the chemotherapy.

“And just what kind of fun are we talking about, little brother?”

Beau looked away and shrugged. “Just fun, is all.”

Billy set his cup down and leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms. “Fun in the form of Shirlene Dalton?” When Beau’s face flamed a telltale red, Billy lost his cool and pushed away from the counter. “Over my dead body! I’ll not have my little brother taking up with some money-grubbing gold digger.”

Beau bristled and leaned toward Billy. “She’s not a gold digger. She’s a nice lady who didn’t deserve to get tossed out of her house.”

“A nice lady?” Billy waved a hand around the room. “Take a good look around, Beau. Shirlene Dalton married a man more than twice her age in order to get her hands on this, then turned around and lost it all only months after he died. And I won’t have C-Corp falling prey to a woman who runs through money quicker than sand through a sieve. You take up with Ms. Dalton, you’ll choose another place to work.”

Beau’s shoulders wilted. “I wasn’t planning on marrying her, Billy. I was just hoping to get lucky. Have you seen the body on that woman?”

Billy had—every luscious curve and sweet valley. If he thought it was hard to keep his mind off Shirlene before he’d seen her soaking wet, it was nothing compared to how difficult it was now. All morning long, images of Shirlene kept popping into his brain—full, sweet breasts spilling over wet, pink lace—and damned if he could stop them. But what he could put a stop to was Beau setting his sights on something he could never have. Not if Billy had anything to say about it.

“Well, look for some other kind of entertainment while you’re here.”

Beau snorted. “I’ve tried, but it seems the town doesn’t exactly care for strangers. I don’t even know why Brant wanted me to come out with you.”

“He was hoping you would get some rest and maybe do a little research. But it appears that all you’ve been doing is panting after Ms. Dalton. Did you even notice you’re being watched?”

Beau grinned. “The guy in the camouflage? Yeah, I saw him. But I figured he was harmless.”

“He’s not harmless if he’s spreading rumors around town about you sleeping with Shirlene.”

Beau straightened. “Really? They think I’m bedding her?”

Billy rolled his eyes. “Don’t get all cocky. They also think you’re a low-down scoundrel who is up to no good.”

“So that’s why they’ve been treating me so badly.” He shot Billy a snide look. “They think I’m you.”

“Thanks to your stupidity, they do now.” He picked up his cup and walked over for a refill.

“So I guess you want me to pack up and go back to the motel,” Beau said.

Billy shook his head. “It’s too late for that. The townspeople will figure out soon enough that Shirlene has been evicted, and that you’re one of the Cates brothers responsible for kicking her sweet behind out.”

“Sweet behind?” Beau smirked. “You sure you don’t have a thing for Shirlene Dalton, big brother?”

“Not likely,” Billy said. “Women like her will drain you dry and spit you out. Just look what she did to her husband. Poor man worked himself into an early grave trying to keep her in diamonds.”

“Diamonds and enough clothes and shoes to fill three closets.”

Billy’s eyebrows popped up. “You been snooping in her panty drawers, Beauregard?”

“Nooo,” Beau said, although his blush said otherwise. Before Billy could try to mentally justify his sudden flare of anger, Beau headed toward the bedrooms. “Besides, I didn’t have to snoop to see more than her panties.”

Setting down his coffee cup, Billy followed Beau back to the cavernous master suite. The high, king-sized bed was rumpled, but still looked like a sultan’s with the rich, brocade bedding and multiple satin pillows. But then it wasn’t the bed that held Billy’s attention as much as the painting that hung over it.

Even with Beau standing there grinning like an idiot, it was hard for Billy to keep his mouth from falling open. Not with the life-sized painting of Shirlene as naked as the day she was born staring him in the face.

Of course, she wasn’t completely naked. She had on a pair of silver stilettos with tiny rhinestone buckles and a necklace with a diamond-encrusted pendant. The pendant hung in the cleavage of her full breasts, breasts
with nipples barely covered by the gray fur of the coat she lay across. Over one smooth shoulder, Billy could see the slope of her back, followed by the sweet swells of her hips. Her long legs were bent and crossed at the ankles, the silver heels inches from the shadowy crevice of her ass. But it wasn’t the curvaceous body that held his attention as much as the face framed by piles of blond hair—a face that was lit with laughter and a look that could only be described as love.

“Now you see why I was so hot to get her into bed,” Beau said.

The words were barely out of his mouth before Billy reached out and grabbed the front of his brother’s shirt, jerking him close. “We don’t have time for your bullshit, Beau. If standing around fantasizing about Ms. Dalton is what you’ve been spending your time doing, you might as well get your ass back to Dogwood.”

By the angry look on Beau’s face, Billy figured he was in for a brotherly tussle. But before Beau could get in the first shove, Billy’s cell phone rang, and he released Beau to answer it.

“Hello.”

There was a slight pause before a female voice came on. “I’m sorry. I must have the wrong number. I’m looking for a Mr. Wilkes.”

Billy quickly slipped into a less intimidating voice. “You got him, ma’am.”

“Oh,” the woman said. “I didn’t recognize your voice at first. This is Ms. Murphy over at the Bramble Public Library.”

“Well, howdy, Ms. Murphy. Did you find some more books for me?” Billy asked.

“Not books,” Ms. Murphy said, “but I found some
Bramble Gazette
newspaper articles from the late 1800s that I think you’ll find interesting.”

“Well, I shore thank you for all the trouble, ma’am.”

“It was no trouble, Mr. Wilkes.” Ms. Murphy laughed softly. “In fact, I enjoyed reading the articles about whose hog took first place at the state fair, or how some young boys got in trouble for sneaking into Bootlegger’s Saloon. Of course, one story wasn’t quite so humorous.”

Billy’s eyes narrowed. “And what story would that be, Ms. Murphy?”

“The one about that poor metalsmith from Lubbock being shot dead in the middle of Main Street.”

“That does sound sad.” He glanced over at Beau, who was listening intently. “I’ll tell you what, Ms. Murphy. I have some things to pick up in town so why don’t I stop by and get those newspaper articles today?”

“Of course. I’ll have them on the front desk waiting for you.”

After he hung up the phone, Beau didn’t waste any time asking, “What did she find, Billy?”

With anger rolling through him, Billy stared back at his little brother. “A newspaper article about the cold-blooded murder of our great-great-granddaddy, William Wilkes Cates.”

T
HE
B
RAMBLE
G
AZETTE ARTICLE
didn’t give Billy much more information than he already had. But it did serve to confirm the Cates family legend.

On August 5, 1892, William Wilkes Cates had ridden into Bramble from Lubbock, Texas, with a shiny dedication plaque for the new town hall. No more than an hour later, he lay dead in the middle of the dusty street. Shot down in cold blood by the sheriff for doing nothing more than demanding the money due him—money the mayor had withheld because the date on the plaque was wrong. But it hadn’t been Billy’s grandfather’s fault that the town hall’s completion had been delayed due to bad weather. William had only engraved the date that had been given him.

Billy stared at the faded newspaper print and the one piece of information he hadn’t had. Sheriff Wynn Murdock. The man responsible for his grandfather’s death and the curse that had followed the Cateses since the .45-caliber bullet had shattered William’s heart.

From that moment on, nothing but bad luck had
followed the Cates family. Disease. Dust storms. Drought. Tornados. If a person could name a calamity, they had suffered through it. And it didn’t help that Billy’s relatives refused to forget. Every male child born from William’s only son, William Junior, carried the name William as a first or middle name.