Catch Me a Cowboy (23 page)

“You do realize that Ms. Dalton closed her accounts with us after the buyout.” The man really did have an annoying manner.

“I’m well aware of that, Mr. Peabody. If she had accounts at our bank, I could just look them up myself, now couldn’t I?”

“I’ll see what I can find out,” Mr. Peabody said. “Will there be anything else, sir?”

“No, I think that will do it for now.” Billy hung up the phone and slipped it back in his shirt pocket just as Slate Calhoun’s Yukon pulled up in the yard. Billy was out the door before Slate had even climbed out of his SUV. Taking note of his sweaty t-shirt and running shorts, Billy couldn’t help but tease him.

“So you still tryin’ to whip that team of yours into shape before they have to face the Dogwood Dragons?”

“Funny,” Slate said as he slammed the door, “but I didn’t see the Dragons in the state playoffs. Did they take the year off?”

Billy snorted. “Damned coach needs to pull his head out of his ass. Who calls a running play on third and long?”

“I’d say a coach who has a lot of faith in their running back.”

“Ours averages under a yard a carry,” Billy grumbled.

Laughing, Slate took off his ball cap and wiped the sweat from his forehead. “So does that mean you’re ready to concede the fact that I have the best high school football team in Texas?”

“Hell, no.”

Slate tugged the hat back on and grinned. “So where have you been keepin’ yourself? Faith was real upset when you canceled dinner on Friday night.” His hazel eyes twinkled. “Luckily, she hasn’t heard the gossip about you being at Bootlegger’s.” Before Billy could try to explain, Slate slapped him on the back. “Not a problem, buddy. I can’t blame you for wanting to hang out with a bunch of pretty cowgirls instead of an old married couple. Of course, it sounds like you didn’t have much chance to socialize, not when you had to take Shirlene home.” Slate
nodded at him. “I sure appreciate you watching out for her. She’s had a tough time since Lyle died.”

A shaft of guilt speared through Billy. Of all the people in Bramble, Slate was the one Billy hated to lie to the most. There were times he’d actually thought about telling his friend who he really was and why he was there, but then he’d remember his pledge to his family. And regardless of how much he liked Slate, blood was thicker than water.

Besides, he wasn’t responsible for the collapse of Dalton Oil or Lyle’s heart attack—that had been set in motion long ago by used-up oil fields and fluctuating fuel prices. The only thing C-Corp had done was ensure that the failing company wouldn’t be revived. It was a small deception. Although looking back at Slate’s smiling face, it seemed like a much bigger one. Maybe it was the guilt that prompted his next words.

“Shirlene didn’t look all that upset on Friday night to me. With the way she was drinking and flirting with men, it seemed pretty obvious she only married Lyle for the money.”

Slate’s smile slipped. “Then you’ve been listening to a little too much town gossip. Shirlene might’ve married for money, but she stayed married for love.”

“And what makes you think so—the fact that she didn’t divorce him in the first couple years? Maybe she just wanted it all, instead of half.”

Beneath the brim of the cap, Slate’s eyes narrowed. “Who are you? And what did you do with the Bubba who never has a bad word to say about anyone—especially a good-lookin’ woman?”

Billy tried to slip back into the charming country boy,
but for some reason, he was struggling to connect with that side of his personality. So instead he offered a weak smile and an even weaker excuse.

“I might’ve tipped a few too many this past weekend at Boot’s.”

Slate nodded as the smile returned. “Ahh, the joy of single life.”

“Missing your freedom?” Billy asked, hoping to get the conversation on a less volatile topic.

“Not a bit, my friend. I’d much rather stay home with my pretty wife and baby than suffer through a night of listening to the townsfolk’s crazy talk.” He shook his head. “Have you heard the one about Shirlene shacking up with some con artist?”

Billy’s gaze slipped down to his bare feet. “Yeah, I heard that one.”

Slate laughed and shook his head. “Crazy townsfolk.”

“Yeah, they’re crazy all right.”

They talked for a few more minutes about the upcoming football season and Slate’s daughter’s amazing ability to blow bubbles. When the sun slipped closer to the horizon, Slate pushed away from Billy’s truck.

“Well, I guess I better get home for supper. Faith’s trying out her mama’s pot roast tonight.” He shot a glance over to Billy. “I’d ask you back to the house, but I won’t put you on the spot.”

Since Billy figured his guilt would only triple if he got to know Slate’s family, he was grateful. As they walked to Slate’s Yukon, Billy couldn’t help making the offer he’d made more than a few times.

“The head coaching position in Dogwood is still yours if you want it.”

“Dogwood is your home, Bubba,” Slate said as he pulled open the car door. “Mine is right here in Bramble.”

That’s what Billy was afraid of.

Long after Slate was gone, Billy stood out front and stared at the road. The day had been another hot one, and he couldn’t help but wonder how the Fosters and Shirlene were surviving without an air conditioner. He had thought about going back over to fix it. But since his mind was already overcrowded with images of Shirlene, he figured it was best to pay someone else to do it.

Besides, Shirlene didn’t want to see him any more than he wanted to see her. She only thought of him as her annoying redneck neighbor, something that bothered him more than he was willing to admit. Especially when that’s exactly what he had been angling for. He didn’t want her getting the wrong idea about what had taken place on Friday night. Didn’t want things getting more complicated than they already were. Obviously, she hadn’t gotten the wrong idea at all. In the last couple days, he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of her.

It was for the best. Billy’s time was almost over in Bramble. With or without his granddaddy’s remains, it was time to get back to the business of running C-Corp.

He turned and headed for the trailer, but just before he reached the front steps, a weed caught his eye. After cleaning out the yard on Friday morning, he thought he’d gotten all the weeds. But it looked as if he’d missed one. He walked over and plucked the tiny plant. Except as soon as he did, he noticed another one—and another. Until before Billy knew it, he was standing in the junk-filled yard next door.

The Navigator was gone, the yard quiet except for the
chirp of sparrows up in the elm tree. In the heat of the late afternoon, a stench rose up from the piles of garbage, a stench that burned Billy’s nostrils and had his eyes watering. And if it affected him that way, how much worse would it affect little kids?

It didn’t take him long to load the back of his truck with broken pieces of furniture, old mattresses, and the bags of trash he’d collected. The numerous empty vodka bottles worried him. Obviously, Ms. Foster had a drinking problem—hopefully, they didn’t belong to Jesse. He had slipped through the hedge for one last armful when a truck pulled into the lot. For a second, Billy considered making a run for it. But before he could dive behind an upended sofa, the teenage boy yelled at him.

“Excuse me, sir,” the tall lanky boy climbed out of the old truck and headed toward him.

Since every person in town had pointed him out at one time or another, it only took Billy a minute to recognize the boy.

“You’re Austin Reeves, Slate’s new quarterback,” he said. He wiped his hand off on his jeans and held it out to the kid, who hurried over and grabbed it in a firm handshake.

“Yes, sir.”

“Bubba Wilkes,” Billy said.

Austin’s eyes registered shock. “
The
Bubba Wilkes?”

Billy laughed. “I don’t know if I’d go that far, son. I think you’re a bigger celebrity in this town than I am.”

Austin shook his head. “No way. When I first moved here, all I heard about was Bubba. Not to mention your truck. I bet Coach sure misses driving around in it.”

“So he claims.” Billy said. “But I think he’s BSing me
a little so as not to hurt my feelings. So what brings you out to Grover Road, Austin? If you’re looking for Coach Calhoun, he just left.”

“Actually, I was looking for Mia. But I guess I got the wrong trailer.”

The young man’s words surprised Billy. Mia didn’t seem like the type to hang around with the most popular boy in school—or any boys, for that matter. She seemed wary of men. Or maybe just a redneck from east Texas.

Smart girl.

“No, you didn’t get the wrong trailer,” Billy said. “Mia lives here, but she’s not at home right now.”

Nodding, Austin reached around and pulled his wallet from his back pocket. “That’s okay. I just wanted to drop by her driver’s license. She dropped it the other night when she stopped for gas. I’ve been meaning to get it back to her, but with work and practice I haven’t had a chance.”

“She stopped by for gas the other night?” Billy asked. “I didn’t even know she had a car.”

“A blue Impala.”

“No kiddin’,” Billy’s gaze snapped over to the old bed frame and tires resting against a tarp-covered heap. “I guess I need to get to know my neighbors a little better.”

“You and me both,” Austin said as he held out the license with a picture of a dark-haired Mia on the front. “Because I thought Mia’s last name was Foster.”

I
T WAS HARD TO TRUST
. At least, it was hard for Mia. Life had dealt her so many untrustworthy people that she couldn’t help but be skeptical of a woman with a perpetual smile on her face. It was probably this skepticism that made her treat Shirlene Dalton like a dog with fleas.

“We shouldn’t have spent the money,” Mia said as she adjusted the seatbelt on her bony shoulder blade. “Not when we only have fifty-two dollars left.”

“Fifty-two dollars and a refrigerator filled with groceries.” Shirlene winked at her. “What more could a couple of footloose-and-fancy-free gals wish for?” When Mia didn’t say anything, she swatted her arm. “It was only a couple burgers and some tater tots, honey. It’s not like we purchased the Taj Mahal.”

“That’s that place in India you was teachin’ me about, ain’t it, Mia?” Jesse asked from the backseat.

Mia sighed. “How many times do I have to tell you that ‘ain’t’ isn’t proper English?”

“Well, maybe I ain’t proper,” Jesse grumbled. “But I talk just like most folks in town.”

He had a point. But before Mia could come up with an answer for that, Shirlene spoke up.

“She’s right, Jesse. You don’t want to end up like Bubba, do you?”

“I like Bubba,” Jesse stated, defiantly. “He don’t work much, and he’s got a cool truck with really cool bull balls.”

“Jesse!” Both Shirlene and Mia spoke at the same time.

Jesse flopped back in the seat. “Well, he does. And when I grow up, I’m gonna have a truck just like his, and I ain’t gonna have to listen to no meanie girls like you two.”

Shirlene smiled as she turned onto Grover Road. “I don’t think I’ve ever been called a meanie girl before.”

“Well, get used to it.” The words slipped out before Mia could stop them, and she shot a quick glance over at Shirlene. “I-I mean as long as you’re with us, you’ll have to get used to it.”

Shirlene looked over at her for only a second before returning her gaze to the road. “I knew what you meant, honey.”

After that, they didn’t talk much. Of course, it was hard to keep up a conversation with all the noise coming from the back. Adeline had discovered her voice and babbled out baby talk. Jesse started making a weird popping noise with his mouth. And Brody hummed “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star,” sounding like a bullfrog during mating season. Couple that with the occasional grunt from the sleeping pig in the very back, and Mia wondered if at any second she might start screaming and pulling out her hair.

The racket didn’t seem to faze Shirlene. Of course, from what Mia could tell, nothing fazed Shirlene Dalton.
Not getting kicked out of a beautiful mansion. Or stuck with four orphan kids. Or forced to hock a diamond ring the size of a walnut. The woman just kept on smiling as if life was a bed of roses.

Mia wished she could be as optimistic. The kids were fed and happy today, but tomorrow would bring more hardships. She had thought that Shirlene might be the answer to all her problems. But the woman could barely take care of herself, let alone an entire family. Which meant Mia would have to look elsewhere for help.

The SUV suddenly slowed down, and Mia glanced over to see Shirlene squinting out the windshield. “Just what in the name of heaven does he think he’s doing?”

Mia followed her gaze, and her heart stopped. Not because Bubba Wilkes was flipping a ripped-up sofa into the back of a truck, but because Austin Reeves was helping him.

Mia hadn’t seen Austin since the night she ran away. And she didn’t want to see him. Not when she had acted like such a geeky nut. For a moment, she thought about opening the door and diving out into the mesquite that lined the road. Shirlene had slowed to a crawl so Mia would probably only suffer a few bumps and bruises. And physical pain was much better than dying from embarrassment beneath Austin’s pretty brown eyes. Then she remembered that Austin was one of those hero kind of guys who would come running over to help if he happened to see her, which meant she’d have to suffer through the next few minutes.