Catch Me a Cowboy (9 page)

And maybe the kid wasn’t too far off.

Billy’s gaze shifted back to Ms. Dalton, who was waggling her hands to get the feeling back into them. It must’ve worked because she stopped after a while to reach out and grab her purse. After digging around in it, she pulled out a half-eaten Snickers bar. But before she even got the wrapper off, the pig let out a squeal and jumped up on the mattress. Startled, the baby started to cry. This in turn caused the little boy to bellow in a deep wail that sent shivers down Billy’s spine. The racket of screaming kids and squealing pig almost had him heading for the door. It was only the enjoyment of watching Ms. Dalton’s panicked eyes that kept him rooted to his spot.

When she noticed him standing there grinning, she yelled above the noise. “Don’t just stand there, Wilkes! Do something!”

He shrugged. “I’d love to, ma’am, but I’ve never been much good with kids. In fact, they scare me almost as much as horror movies.”

Shirlene shot him an exasperated look before she took action. In a flurry of motion, she pinched off a piece of candy and tossed it to the pig, handed the rest of the candy bar to the little boy, and finally scooped up the baby and silenced her with the bottle. When the room was filled with nothing more than smacking noises, Billy didn’t know who was more surprised.

“Well,” she breathed as she leaned back against the pillows. “That wasn’t so hard.”

Since Billy had grown up around plenty of children, he knew that peace was a fragile thing—kids were always just one poopy diaper or empty bottle away from chaos. Still, he kept this knowledge to himself.

“So whose kids are these, anyway?” He moved over to the mattress and pushed the pig out of the way so he could sit down.

“I don’t really know the woman. Her delinquent son, Jesse, is the only one who hangs around town much.” Ms. Dalton adjusted the bottle in the baby’s mouth.

It was strange, but unlike most women he knew, Ms. Dalton didn’t cuddle the child close as she fed her. There was no cooing or brushing back the curly hair that fell over the little girl’s forehead. Instead she held the baby like she was a stray dog with fleas and stared at the doorway as if counting down the seconds when she would be able to race through it. It was strange. Or maybe not so strange, considering she was a spoiled gold digger who seemed to be worried about only one thing.

Herself.

That didn’t explain what she was doing out on Grover Road again. If he didn’t know better, he might be worried that Shirlene Dalton was spying on him. But before he could broach the subject, she shifted the baby in her arms and glanced over at Brody, who seemed to have more chocolate on his face than inside his stomach.

“According to Jesse, they live here.”

Billy’s gaze snapped over to her. “Here?” He pointed down at the saggy mattress. “As in this trailer?”

“Exactly.” She glanced around the sparsely furnished
room. “Which is why the door was locked, and why Jesse and Brody tried to scare me off last night.”

Billy attempted to look duly surprised. “The chainsaw psycho?”

“The same.”

“Well, if that’s the case, I guess there’s nothing left to do but call Sheriff Winslow.”

Ms. Dalton’s gaze flashed over to him, and suddenly Billy found himself sympathizing with Lyle Dalton. Ms. Dalton’s eyes were the exact color of a meadow in early spring—a vast expanse of crisp, dewy grass that invited a man to leave behind the cold blues and dull browns of ordinary women and lose himself in the lush, vital green of this woman. One glance of those peepers and the poor old coot probably hadn’t known what hit him.

“You think that’s what I should do?”

Her question jerked Billy out of the meadow and back to the trailer. Except it took a while for his mind to catch up. “Huh?”

“Sheriff Winslow? You think I should call him?” Ms. Dalton glanced down at the baby who had finished the bottle and was now sucking air.

“Who else are you going to call?” He reached over and pulled the bottle out of the baby’s mouth so the kid wouldn’t end up with a bunch of gas. Didn’t the woman know anything about kids?

Once the bottle was gone, the baby just stared up at Ms. Dalton with wide, blue eyes set in a chubby, little face that Billy had to admit was pretty darned cute. Except Ms. Dalton must’ve had a heart of stone. She quickly handed the baby over to Billy.

“Here, your turn.”

He would’ve handed the kid right back if the baby hadn’t started to fuss. And since there was no more milk in the bottle, he figured he didn’t have much choice but to comfort her. He tucked her against his chest and patted her back, which resulted in a burp that was louder than Rye Pickett after he’d downed a Dr Pepper.

The rigid lines on Ms. Dalton’s face finally eased, and they both laughed. Even Brody giggled. Of course, it sounded more like a deep chuckle.

“Where did that kid get his voice, anyway? James Earl Jones?” Billy asked.

Ms. Dalton’s laughter cut off as her gaze lowered to the floor and the locks of blond hair. She reached up and tried to smooth the longer strands over the shorter. It didn’t work, and Billy couldn’t help grinning at her partial mullet.

“So I’m assuming that James Earl gave you the trim.”

She held out a short strand. “You call this a trim?”

Knowing how sensitive women were about their hair, he backed off a little. “It’s not that bad—nothin’ a couple months won’t fix.”

“More like a good year,” she grumbled. She shot a glance over at the kid, who was licking the chocolate from his fingers. In his other hand, he clutched a naked doll. The same one he’d had that morning.

“I hate to tell you this, son,” Billy pointed at the doll, “but you need to change out toys.”

The kid hugged the doll closer and yelled in his deep, baritone voice, “Mine.”

Billy shrugged. “Suit yourself, but I’m only trying to save you some grief. You walk around with something like that for too long in Texas, and you’ll end up in more
fights than one of those
Dancing With the Stars
dudes in a biker bar.”

“Please don’t get him started,” Ms. Dalton said. “I’ve had enough screaming today to last me a lifetime.” She looked at the baby who rested against his shoulder, and her eyes widened. “She’s asleep.”

“No foolin’.” He carefully laid the baby down on the mattress. “I guess I’m better with kids than I thought.”

She stared at the sleeping child. “So where do you think they’ll go?”

“Who?”

“Jesse’s family,” she said.

Billy shook his head. “I don’t know, but Sheriff Winslow probably will.” When she shot him a skeptical look, he realized his mistake. “Okay, so maybe he won’t know either, but I’m sure he’ll figure it out.”

She reached out as if to smooth back the hair that had fallen over the baby’s forehead, but instead her hand just hung there for a few seconds before it dropped back to the mattress.

“What do they do with homeless people in east Texas?” she asked.

“We don’t have any homeless people in Dogwood. No one in their right mind would want to live on the streets in that humidity,” he teased. Although why he wasted his time trying to tease another smile out of her was beyond him. He had other things to worry about besides making Ms. Dalton smile, and he needed to remember that.

“My pastor took care of things like that,” he said. “I remember him taking up a collection for a family that had run out of gas while traveling through town.”

“You attend church?” Her voice betrayed her shock.

“It was either that or get my butt warmed with my daddy’s belt. The hard pews and Pastor Miley’s hour-long sermon seemed like the least of two evils. Although once I grew up, I became nothing but a big ol’ sinner.” He winked at her. “You wanna do a little sinnin’ with me, Ms. Dalton?”

For one split second, it looked as if she was actually considering it. Her head tipped to one side and those green eyes of hers slithered over his body like a slab of butter on a hot skillet. And he was feelin’ hot all right. Even though he had no intentions of touching the woman with a ten-foot pole, his nine-inch pole hadn’t gotten the memo.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to pass,” she said in that throaty voice of hers. While Billy tried to get a grip on his body’s betrayal, she looked over at Brody, who was now slumped back in the corner with the Barbie cuddled close and his thumb in his mouth. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt anything to leave things like they are.”

He blinked. “You mean let these kids live in your trailer?”

“Why not?” She shrugged and looked down at the sleeping child. “They aren’t really hurting anything—although I’ll need to talk to the mother about leaving a little delinquent in charge of such a precious little girl. And the dangers of letting that delinquent play with a chainsaw.”

“It didn’t have a chain on it.” The words popped out before Billy could put much thought in them, and Ms. Dalton’s eyes narrowed.

“How did you—?”

The tinny clang of feet on the front steps cut off her
words, and they both turned to the doorway as a teenage girl raced in. She was a skinny little thing with pale skin and blond hair pulled back in a haphazard ponytail.

She stood there panting, her eyes behind the black-framed glasses tracking to the sleeping baby on the mattress, then over to the dozing little boy in the corner. There was a moment of relief, but it disappeared quickly enough when she looked back at Billy and Ms. Dalton.

“I’m so sorry,” she said with a Texas twang, “I’ve told my little brother not to play in other people’s trailers.” She pushed back the hair that had fallen from her ponytail and glanced back at the doorway. “But he has a problem listening.”

As if on cue, Jesse slunk into the room in his oversized cowboy boots. When he saw Billy, his eyes narrowed. But he kept his mouth shut while the girl continued to talk.

“So we’ll just get out of your hair.” She strode to the bed and had just started to pick up the baby when Ms. Dalton stopped her by placing a hand on her arm.

“Why don’t you let her sleep, honey? She looks almost as tuckered out as you do.”

The teenage girl’s entire body tensed, but Billy had to hand it to her. She knew how to hold it together. “I’d really love to, ma’am, but our mama is due back from work anytime. And she’ll be real worried if we aren’t at home when she gets there.”

Billy got up from the bed and removed his hat from his head. “And just where is home, Miss…”

Her unusual violet eyes stared back at him. “Foster. Mia Foster.”

Ms. Dalton got to her feet and flashed one of those megawatt smiles. “Well, it’s real nice to meet you, Mia. I’m Ms. Dalton, and this here is Mr. Wilkes.”

“Bubba,” Billy grinned. “So y’all live around here?”

Mia didn’t flinch an inch; her eyes behind the glasses were clear and direct. “Just a few trailers down.”

Billy hadn’t hung out in the trailer park long enough to meet any of the neighbors, but the girl didn’t need to know that. “A few trailers down, huh?” He scratched his head in thought. “Now, I thought the Millers lived in that trailer.”

“Nuh-uh,” Jesse chimed in, “the Walshes do.”

Mia shot the kid daggers, and Billy actually felt sorry for him.

“We know that you’ve been living here, Mia,” Ms. Dalton stated. “And I’m not mad about it, honey. But I do need to talk with your mama.”

Like a trapped animal, Mia’s eyes flickered with fear, and there was a moment when Billy thought she might sprint right back out the door. Instead, her chin hiked up, and her mouth turned stubborn. “It will be a long wait. She won’t be home until later.”

Ms. Dalton’s smile drooped, and those green eyes flashed with indecision. Figuring this was as good a time as any to make his exit, Billy tugged his hat back on. “Well, I’d love to sit and chat, but there’s a catfish in Sutter Springs with my name on it.”

“Wait a minute!” Ms. Dalton grabbed his arm before he had even taken a step and stared at him with panic thick in those green eyes. “You’re not leaving me with…” Her voice trailed off.

Billy smiled. “Why, Ms. Dalton, I didn’t realize you’d gotten so attached to me.” He removed her hand with a pat. “But you need to remember the first rule in fishing and relationships… Don’t cling too tightly or a good catch might get away.”

S
HIRLENE COULDN’T REMEMBER
the last time she’d been out to Sutter Springs. Stumbling along the muddy bank in her high heels, she realized why. It was hot and dirty and smelled like dead fish, a perfect place for the man who stretched out under the cedar tree with a sweat-stained camouflage hat resting over his face and a fishing pole leaning against the rock next to him. Fishing line stretched across the bank and into the murky water, the bright red bobber on the end bouncing in the ripples caused by the strong breeze.

It didn’t look like he had caught anything, although the miles of sun-bronzed sculptured muscles exposed by the open flaps of his snap-down shirt hooked her gaze quickly enough. She didn’t know how long she stood there staring before his voice rumbled up through the dark green mesh of the hat.

“I’ve gotta tell ya, Ms. Dalton. Your persistence is startin’ to wear me down.”