Catch Me a Cowboy (21 page)

She didn’t know if the traits had been planted at conception, or if it had been a slow process brought on by years of observation. It didn’t seem to matter when Baby Adeline’s cry filtered out through the open window of the trailer. Shirlene’s stomach heaved again, and she stuck her head between her knees and took deep even breaths until the feeling passed. She stayed that way, staring at the tears that plopped down to the ground between her expensive, ridiculous shoes.

Finally Sherman’s cold nose snuffled up against her ear, and he continued to butt up against her until she lifted her head. The disappointment was gone from his eyes, and all she could see was her own reflection in the beady orbs.

She sniffed. “I screwed up, didn’t I, Sherman? Mia asked me for help, and all I’ve done in the last few days is think about getting my house back.” She leaned her head on his and took a quivery breath before blowing it back out. “It looks like I stink at being a foster parent.”

“You ain’t as bad as Auntie Barb or my other foster moms.”

Shirlene sat up to find Jesse sitting on a tire not more
than three feet away. His head was tipped, and one eye scrunched up as he studied her.

“How come girls are such cry babies, anyway?” he asked. “Every time somethin’ don’t go your way, you start bawlin’ your eyes out. Mia’s in there packin’ and sobbin’ up a storm, which caused Adeline and Brody to start wailin’. I swear a man can’t find a speck of peace and quiet around here.”

She swiped at her nose. “What do you mean Mia’s packing?”

“She says she don’t want to stay in a town filled with stupid people. She thinks we’ll do better elsewhere.” Jesse’s gaze wandered over her, stopping at the snap-down western shirt with the ripped off sleeves. The boy’s curious eyes had her face flaming like gasoline-soaked briquettes. “So where’s my shirt?”

She ignored the question and leaned closer. “You can’t let Mia take you away again, Jesse,” she pleaded. “You’ve got to talk her into giving me one more chance.”

He shook his head. “Once Mia gets a bug in her butt, it’s not easy to change her mind. She’s all worried you’re gonna tell Colt, and he’s gonna call the sheriff. I tried to tell her that Colt ain’t like that, but she ain’t gonna listen.”

“Calling Colt would probably be the best thing for everyone,” Shirlene said, but even as she spoke the words something inside her rebelled at the thought. But now her desire to keep things from Colt had nothing to do with her brother finding out about the house and everything to do with proving something to these kids—and to herself.

“I’m not going to call Colt.” She glanced down at Sherman, who seemed to be smiling back at her. The silly pig’s affirmation brought the lump back to her throat.

“You ain’t gonna cry again, are you?” Jesse said, not looking at all happy about the prospect of seeing more tears.

She laughed. “I’ll make you a deal. I won’t cry again if you help me keep Mia and the kids here.”

His eyes narrowed. “Why? You don’t even like us.”

It was hard to argue with the truth so she didn’t even try.

“Sometimes it takes a while for people to get past that first impression. Take my best friend Hope, for example. At first, I thought she was the biggest brat on the face of the earth, but then she shared her Popsicle with me, and I’ve loved her ever since.”

“We ain’t got no Popsicles,” Jesse said.

“Well, we’ll have to remedy that, but right now we have to figure out how to keep Mia from running off.”

Jesse stared back at her for the longest time before he nodded. “Fine, I’ll help you. But first things first, we gotta get some money. If anything makes Mia feel better, it’s a handful of cash.”

“I thought you made money selling junk.” Shirlene looked around. “And it looks like we’ve got plenty to sell.”

“It ain’t about the amount you got,” he said as if she was as dumb as dirt. “It’s about how many folks is willin’ to buy it. And Bramble’s done bought everything they’re gonna buy from me. What we need is somethin’ really good to sell.” He thought for a moment before he looked over at Shirlene. “So you ain’t gettin’ your house back?”

“No, it doesn’t look that way.”

“Because of that Mr. Peabody guy with the skinny mustache?”

She really wanted to blame Mr. Peabody, and especially
Mr. Cates, but if she was going to take responsibility for a bunch of orphans, she first needed to take responsibility for her own actions. The truth was that Mr. Peabody and Mr. Cates weren’t responsible for her lack of funds—or her lack of house. She was.

“No, it isn’t Mr. Peabody’s fault,” she said. “It’s because I can’t manage money worth a flip.”

Jesse nodded as if he was in total agreement. She really had to stop hanging out with brutally honest children and pigs.

“What about all your stuff?” he asked. “Did you mismanage that too?”

Shirlene hadn’t given much thought to the contents of her house. She’d been too busy trying to get back the entire enchilada. But now that Jesse brought it up, she realized that Mr. Cates might own her house, but he didn’t own the things inside it. Not the furniture, or art, or her entire walk-in closet of clothes and shoes. The thought made her almost giddy with happiness.

“You’re right,” she jumped up. “All the stuff inside is mine.” When she noticed Jesse’s face, she amended her words. “I mean
ours
, to sell.” Her eyes narrowed. “Now all I have to do is figure out how to get Mr. Cates to hand over the key so we can get inside.”

Jesse shrugged. “Why don’t we just ask the man who’s livin’ there to let us in?”

“M
S
. D
ALTON
, I’
VE GOT TO TELL YOU
, I’m getting pretty sick of my vacation being interrupted by phone calls from you.”

Shirlene’s eyes narrowed as she adjusted the cell phone to her ear. “Believe me, Mr. Cates, not as sick as I am of having to deal with you. Now you want to explain who’s living in my house?”

Shirlene had made her own assumptions. But for some reason, she wanted to hear it from this man’s lips. Surprisingly, he didn’t disappoint her.

“That would be my brother, Beau. And the house isn’t yours, Ms. Dalton. It belongs to the bank, unless you can come up with a lot of money real quick.”

For a moment, she thought about continuing the charade of being the poor widow woman bullied by the mean bank owner. But no matter how much Shirlene enjoyed acting, she was getting tired of the role.

She released her breath in a long huff. “You can have the house, Mr. Cates.”

“Excuse me?” The shock in his smooth voice suddenly made her feel a whole lot better.

“Those ocean waves a little too loud for you, honey?” she asked as a grin split her face.

“They must be, Ms. Dalton. I thought you said I could have the house.”

“I did. What in the world am I gonna do with a big old house like that, anyway?” Even as she said the words, her mind filled with images of her propped up on the pillow-topped mattress, soaking in the huge Jacuzzi tub, or basking by the glistening swimming pool. But as her mama used to say, Life is hell and then you die. And Shirlene wasn’t dead yet.

“So, Mr. Cates, now that we have that settled, when can I come get my things?”

“And what things would those be, Ms. Dalton?”

She gritted her teeth. “The things inside my house.”

“Getting a little upset about going without a change of diamonds, are we?” Mr. Cates’s voice was filled with snide humor. “Or is it that nude painting of yours that you miss the most?”

“How did you…?” Shirlene couldn’t help but glance up and down the street as if she stood there completely naked. Of course, even if she was naked, no one would notice. Everyone in Bramble seemed to be too caught up in their Saturday morning business.

Moses Tate napped on the bench in front of Sutter’s Pharmacy. Missy Leigh loaded groceries and her horde of kids into the back of her minivan. Twyla and Kenny Gene were having a fight outside of Josephine’s. And Jesse and his siblings sat in front of the Dairy Treat, eating the ice cream Bubba had bought them. Bubba stood a few yards away, talking on his cell phone. When he noticed Shirlene looking at him, he grinned that dopey grin of his and waved.

She rolled her eyes and looked away. The man was harder to get rid of than head lice.

“So I guess your brother has seen my painting,” Shirlene returned to her conversation with Mr. Cates.

“And I’m sure he’s not the only one.” He paused. “So is the painter a past lover or a present?”

She flinched, but kept her cool. “What difference does it make to you? You waitin’ in line, honey?”

He snorted. “Not hardly. I prefer my women a little more modest.”

“And I prefer my men with a little more chivalry.”

He laughed. “Don’t try and tell me that dumb redneck you’re hanging out with is your new knight in shining armor.”

Shirlene’s eyes narrowed. Obviously, Beau had a mouth as big as Texas.

“As a matter of fact, Bubba has come to my rescue a few times,” she said. Mostly by dumb luck, but Shirlene wasn’t about to let Mr. Cates know that. “So when can I get my things?”

“It all depends on how much I can get for the house,” he said in that uppity voice that was really starting to get on Shirlene’s last nerve. “If it doesn’t cover the loan, I might just have to sell that painting of yours.”

“You’re not selling my painting!” She was so angry she stomped her foot. Her heel got caught in a crack, and it took a hard yank to get it back out, minus the little rubber tip. “You have no right to anything of mine besides the house.”

“I disagree. Until I get every cent of my money back, I have the right to put a lien on anything you own, Ms. Dalton.”

Shirlene’s stomach tightened, and she wondered if she might get sick all over again. It took a few deep breaths until she was able to speak.

“Does your mama know what a disagreeable man she raised?” she asked.

“She knows exactly what kind of man I am, Ms. Dalton,” he said. “Just like your mama is aware of the kind of woman you are.”

It was an insult if ever she heard one, but with anger boiling in her veins and her stomach churning, she couldn’t think of a snide reply to save her soul. So instead, she ended the conversation. “You haven’t heard the last of me, Mr. Cates.”

Once she hung up, she released her breath. She still felt sick to her stomach, and she wondered if maybe all the stress of the last week had given her an ulcer. The way her luck was going, she wouldn’t be at all surprised.

“So he’s not going to give you back your things, is he?”

Startled, Shirlene turned to see Mia standing there with Adeline on her hip. It had taken most of the morning to convince Mia to give up on her plans to leave town and give Shirlene another chance. And it was hard not to lie when the girl looked as if she carried the weight of the world on her narrow shoulders. But Shirlene was through with lying.

“No,” she said. “He’s not. But I’ll figure something out.”

Mia only stared back at her with those defeated purple-gray eyes. It was almost a relief when Jesse came shuffling up with Brody in tow. The toddler’s face was smeared with vanilla ice cream, and he had the gun holster she’d bought him strapped to his hip. In one side was
the gun she hadn’t used on Mr. Peabody and in the other Naked Barbie.

“I just got finished talkin’ to Darla,” Jesse said. “And she said she’s lookin’ to buy a new couch. You got one of those in that big house, don’t ya?”

His red hair shot up straight up from his head and looked like it hadn’t seen a comb in a year. Looking for anything to postpone the bad news, Shirlene reached out to smooth it down. But the kid jerked away and narrowed his eyes at her.

“I don’t like people touchin’ on me.”

She pulled her hand back. “Well, I wouldn’t be touchin’ on you, if you’d comb your hair occasionally.”

His face grew more belligerent. “You should talk. At least my hair don’t look like it was throwed in a blender.”

Criticism about her grooming was a hard pill for Shirlene to swallow, especially when the woman who had always refused to go out of the house until every hair was in place was the same woman who stood in the middle of town in Bubba’s tattered western shirt with no makeup and her hair looking like it had been “throwed in a blender.”

But her daydreams of hair products and a shower with water pressure would have to be put on hold. She had a family to feed. And if she couldn’t keep her promise to Mia, she had little doubt that Mia would take the kids and run, forcing Shirlene to call Sheriff Winslow whether she wanted to or not. Sam was a nice man, but she didn’t trust him to make the right decision concerning the kids. Of course, she hadn’t exactly been a sterling example of someone making the right decisions either.

She wanted to change that. For once in her life, she
wanted to prove that she was the type of person that people could rely on. The type of person completely different from her own mama. Still, she didn’t know how she was going to pull it off without calling Colt. If she couldn’t get in her house, she had nothing else of value besides her SUV.

About then Sherman woke up from his nap at her feet and sniffed the air. Like a hound dog on a scent, his head snapped over to Brody, and he popped to his feet. The little boy giggled as the pig licked his face clean. When Sherman got a little too exuberant, Shirlene reeled in the leash and tugged him back. The sun hit her hand, reflecting off her engagement ring in spangles of dancing light. It was like a sign from heaven. Or maybe just a timely coincidence. Either way, Shirlene knew what she had to do.