Lone Star Courtship (11 page)

“Nathan.” The Mayor interrupted her brother's trancelike state. “That's not even close to Karankawan. It's Sioux and you picked it up watching
Dances With Wolves,
so cut that out. You have four minutes left.”

He gave up on his theatrics and motioned for someone in the back of the chamber to join him. Heads turned toward a small band of similarly dressed people sporting painted faces and feather headdresses. They made a compelling if out-of-place picture as they shuffled single-file down the center aisle.

A tall figure in a dark suit at the back of the room caught Casey's eye. Her heart lurched.

“Stick a fork in this deal. It's done,” she mumbled.

Leaning against the far wall, seemingly engrossed in the proceedings, stood Barrett Westbrook. His arms were folded, his head cocked to one side, taking in the show.

His expression was grim. Like her future.

The bespectacled sergeant at arms spoke up, redirecting the room to matters of business.

“Our rules of order normally allow each of you five minutes at the podium. However, precedent has long ago been set on this particular issue and the council will only entertain one spokesperson from your
tribe
with your time commencing immediately.”

A slight woman in beaded buckskins and thick black braids edged through the small group and adjusted the mike to her height. She addressed the officials, her words bearing a clipped Native American cadence.

“I am Little Conch, here to speak for a people unable to defend themselves. The peace-loving Karankawan survived untold centuries on this island only to be wiped out of existence by Anglo settlers a hundred and fifty years ago. The ground they trod is sacred and deserves to remain undisturbed. So many exceptions have already been made, so many discoveries plowed under and forgotten. We plead with this wise council to protect this find, to end the commercial expansion that daily chips away our heritage.”

She stepped back, extended her arms and motioned for the others to follow. They formed a circle, facing inward as if shutting out the rest of the world. While the timer clicked off their remaining minutes they lowered their eyes and shared a mournful but enchanting song.

Casey was certain the language they used was none she'd ever heard before, but no translation was necessary to convey the sorrowful message. She felt a sudden conviction to do something to acknowledge their sadness, validate their need to represent the extinct tribe.

But what? Certainly there was something short of abandoning construction that would commemorate the find.

“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen.” The mayor noted the end to their allotted time. “Before we adjourn to discuss the circumstances, would you like to say anything directly on behalf of your corporation, Miss Hardy?”

Unprepared to respond, Casey looked to the H & H legal counsel for guidance. Hempstead gave a slight shake of his head.

“No, thank you, Madam Mayor,” she answered.

“There is no defense. That is why she will not speak,” Nathan insisted.

Hempstead stood. “No
defense
is required and my client declines to be drawn into these theatrics. This is for the city to decide. Hearth and Home is a respected name built on the integrity of the Hardy family.”

Emboldened, Nathan continued. “You heard 'em, sis. They think this is a sideshow instead of an effort to protect our home. And that's all the evidence you need to end this hostile takeover of our island by money-hungry outsiders here and now. Family business, my foot. Monkey business is more like it.”

Casey pushed her chair back, preparing to stand. Beneath the table Hempstead signaled with his hand that she should stay put. He leaned close, spoke in a barely audible whisper.

“They want you to get up there so they can rattle you. These folks are nothing more than professional hecklers. Your father called us in for this purpose, so let me do my job.”

How could she sit idly and leave this to a man she didn't know and couldn't trust while strangers impugned the Hardy name? Numbness surged into her hands. Her heart started to thump erratically against her ribs.

She sucked in a breath, and released it slowly. What could she say anyway? What words would refute their claims? Even if the syllables came to mind she knew she'd never be able to get them past her lips. Her mouth was dry as dust and her tongue felt like a lump of mud. Useless and dirty. She raised a trembling hand to loosen the collar of her silk blouse.

“Well then,” the mayor said while standing. “If there's no more discussion—”

“Madam Mayor, if I may have a word.” A voice carried from behind as Barrett made his way to the speaker's podium.

Casey's ribs ached from the frantic pounding inside her chest. Her lungs seized up, unable to expand and contract. What if she passed out from the sheer panic that was invading her? Did people
die
from the heebie-jeebies? Even if she survived physically, her career would be smothered before it had ever truly breathed on its own. Suffocated before all these prying, uncaring eyes. And it seemed an attorney would be her undoing after all.

Not Barrett! Please, Lord.

Not by the hand of the man I'm falling in love with,
she admitted to herself as she pleaded with God.

“Y
ou have five minutes, sir, commencing now.”

“Thank you.” Barrett bowed respectfully, first to the panel of officials and then to the table where Casey and her attorney were seated. He allowed his gaze to linger a moment on eyes bright with emotion that gripped his heart.

The woman was terror stricken. Paralyzed by another of her jeebie episodes. Would the observations he was about to make do Casey more harm than good? Maybe the best thing for everyone involved would be to take this stress off her shoulders and turn the project back over to her more experienced brother. A solution he knew would break her spirit. A spirit he was now certain he cared for deeply.

“Barrett Westbrook, of Westbrook Partners, Esquire. I must confess I feel somewhat ill-prepared to speak to such an illustrious panel of officials without my powdered wig and judicial robe.” He intoned the apology in his most pompous voice and waited while the room rumbled with the laughter he'd hoped for. Americans seemed drawn to the accent of their mother tongue and he would stoop to any foolish trick to win over this small crowd.

“I represent a client who is considering a partnership agreement with Hearth and Home, so a quick resolution of this incident is of utmost interest to me. As much as I'm enjoying your unique brand of hospitality, I'd like to be on a flight to England in a couple days. Therefore I spent a rather sleepless night investigating the Native American folklore of South Texas for myself.

“As I also come from an island steeped in history, I appreciate the concerns expressed today over the safeguarding of your heritage.” He gave an obsequious nod of his head toward the small band of oddly costumed individuals.

“However, I think it's also important to be accurate about the nature of that heritage. Just as some barbarous behavior has taken place on the British Isles over thousands of years on the part of her many rulers, it appears that a healthy dose of aggressive nature also existed among your Karankawan friends who—”

“Wait just a minute!” Nathan interrupted. “That tribe was a peace-loving bunch a folks who raised dogs and ate shellfish.”

“Sir, the local crustaceans were not the only things the Karankawan ate. They practiced tribal cannibalism, consuming bits of flesh of their dead and dying adversaries as the ultimate revenge.”

“That was how they captured the enemy's courage,” Nathan sputtered.

“Nate, one more outburst and I'll have you hauled out of the council chamber.” The mayor admonished her brother. “Continue, Mr. Westbrook.”

“My point is that we cannot canonize a people simply because they are extinct. Historical accuracy is as important as artifact and site preservation and in this case I believe Miss Hardy's ideas are appropriate and will overcome any objections to continuing construction.”

He turned to Casey. “I know you've not yet confirmed all details, but may I outline your plan?”

A spark of cool control returned as her eyes narrowed and she leveled a look that was just short of a warning. But the small smile that curved her perfect lips said she'd go along, although she was clearly still suspicious, not certain she could trust him. His ego ached at the realization. He'd earn the woman's trust if it was the last thing he did. He turned to address the room.

“Hearth and Home is prepared to discontinue any further disturbance of the excavated area and to mark that ground and the immediate surroundings as a place of respect to all Native American tribes of Texas, but featuring the Karankawas. A life-size bronze depiction of the nomads who most likely camped there only very briefly will be the centerpiece of a peaceful park to be enjoyed by the island's residents and visitors.”

The room erupted in applause and cheers of approval. The city councilmens' comments could be heard above the audience.

“Great solution!”

“It's about time!”

“Perfect gesture!”

Even the costumed protesters smiled as they squinted in concentration to visualize the scene.

“So much for that one little spot, but what about the way commercialism is constantly eating away at our island? What about that?” Nathan griped without making eye contact with his sister who looked as if she wanted to take her wooden gavel to his head.

“I think it's time you heard about the Hearth and Home plan for Galveston's crisis recovery.” Barrett turned again to Casey, this time knowing she'd take the handoff without faltering. She didn't disappoint. With no thought for gaining approval, she brushed past the attorney at her table and moved to Barrett's side at the speaker's stand.

“I welcome the opportunity to share the H & H family vision for community support. Our corporate position has proven successful time and again. We invest in the lives of our employees and in the future of the communities we serve.” Emboldened by the nods of agreement, Casey removed the microphone from the stand and moved from behind the podium.

As she warmed to her subject, Barrett watched Casey masterfully work the locals. Could this be the right woman to manage this deal, after all? If she could overcome her moments of panic, she would be an amazing partner for the right opportunity.

For the right man.

His spirits soared at the thought of being that man.

“Hearth and Home selected Galveston for a supercenter in spite of your vulnerability to violent weather. We bring the capacity to have an immediate impact on recovery from a crisis. In the event of a catastrophic storm like the hurricane that leveled this city a hundred years ago, we can tap into our resource network for the materials you will need for a large-scale recovery. That commitment will be our promise to you as a friend and employer in this community. My family is blessed to be a blessing to others and we take that commission literally.”

Little Conch approached Casey until the two stood toe to toe. Actually it was moccasin to fancy high heel, which caused Barrett to bite the inside of his lip to prevent a smile during such a serious moment. But he'd seen so many strange and wonderful sights in his few days in Texas. What more did it have in store for him? He wanted to stay longer and find out.

But mostly, he wanted to be with Casey.

“My people have sought peace and friendship for ages. We ask only for the respect that those of all cultures are due. You are offering that to us, and I thank you.”

She raised her hand toward Casey, giving up a token too small for Barrett to identify. Casey accepted the gift, closed her fingers then wrapped her arms around Little Conch. Something acutely personal passed between the two women in this public setting. When the brief exchange ended, Little Conch spoke again.

“Your Honor, we respectfully withdraw our objections to the Hearth and Home expansion and encourage the city to grant permission to continue construction.”

The mayor glanced back and forth for any sign of objection, then removed her small pair of reading glasses and positioned them atop her head.

“I say we make quick work of resolving this so we can move on to the next agenda item. If there are no further speakers on the subject, the council hereby upholds all building permits and authorizes Hearth and Home to resume work. We will take a ten-minute recess and then return to the rest of the city's business.”

While the occupants of the room broke into pockets of discussion and engaged Casey in conversation, Barrett approached the H & H attorney and offered his hand.

“Thanks for your intervention, Westbrook. From our briefing this morning I wasn't sure that young lady was going to cooperate. Right now she's a bit of a loose cannon, but with a few years of the right mentoring she'll be a dynamo.”

“So, you think she lacks maturity?”

“She's still green, and seems to have a problem with handing over authority. If she doesn't take a step back and gain some perspective she'll be emotionally fried before she's forty.”

“I've suggested she invest in a professional coach.”

“How'd she take it?” A knowing smile deepened the creases in the older man's face.

“Just as you might expect,” Barrett admitted.

And he also had to admit privately to himself that Casey's driven nature was a two-edged sword. It could be her recipe for success or her road map to destruction. He'd give her the benefit of the doubt in the blink of an eye regarding personal affairs. But did he dare take a professional chance on her?

“I wish your client much success. If they're going to partner with that one—” he angled his head toward Casey “—they need to buckle up for a wild ride.”

The man collected his attaché, shook hands with Cooper and then left without speaking to Casey.

Barrett noticed the Ten Commandments prominently displayed on the wall of the council chamber. He dipped his chin and closed his eyes for a moment.

Father, I've struggled with so many decisions, always trusting You to guide my steps. This uncertainty about my career is a bit much and now I have the weight of Casey's to consider, as well. Please don't let her be hurt at my hand, and not at a time when she seems most vulnerable. Show me Your will and in all ways let it be done in my life.

“I should sucker punch you for interfering like that.”

His eyes opened to bright yellow pointy toes, one of them tapping the floor before him. The shoes and the voice were distinctly those of the Warden. But the sparkling blue eyes that looked up into his face were pure Casey. Gone was the fear, though the bruise-like smudges beneath them gave away the fatigue that lingered. If the woman didn't get some stress relief and rest she was going to be a candidate for a collapse. No wonder she was on the fringe of panic attacks.

“Good morning to you, too, Casey. I didn't for a moment expect your undying gratitude. But neither did I anticipate physical threat as my reward for a marathon study on the failed efforts of European settlers to co-exist with Native Americans.”

“Why didn't you tell me about this last night?”

“Because you'd have instructed me to mind my own business.” He held his palm outward to block any interruption, then continued. “But the fact is that your business
is
my business. At least for as long as you continue to entertain any plan to work with my client. So I simply did my part to protect our mutual interest with or without your permission. Now, if it is still your intention to punish me, take your best shot.”

He angled his chin and tapped his jaw with the tip of his finger and closed his eyes tightly as if anticipating impact.

To his delight, gentle lips pressed against the very spot he'd indicated as her target.

“Thank you, Barrett.” Her voice was soft, sincere.

“My independent streak is also my Achilles' heel. I've lost count of how many times in my life I've turned away help because it was more important to do things myself.”

“I imagine the number is quite large,” he couldn't resist saying.

She didn't deny it. “And my stubborn nature probably would have cost me dearly if you hadn't come to my rescue today. I'll never forget what you just did, even if you really were protecting other interests.”

The amazing lady before him was the only other interest he wanted to protect. She was a woman he respected. Desired. Enjoyed.

Loved.

Casey watched the strangest expression sweep across Barrett's face, as if he'd suddenly discovered something important.

She opened her palm, extended it toward him and offered up the gift inside.

His dark eyes grew wide with interest and then softened as he recognized what lay in her hand. Being tossed about in the sea and sand had left the small pink shell dull, the colors muted. But etched deeply in the surface was the distinct outline of a fish. Casey reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out the coin Barrett had insisted she take the day before.

Their symbol of trust.

She placed it beside the shell in her palm.

“You gave me yours. Now you take mine.”

“Oh, I couldn't.” He shook his head and refused to accept the offering.

“Why not?”

“Mine is only a trinket, a die cast of scrap metal. What you have there is natural. One of a kind. And because it came from Little Conch it will always be of special significance to you.”

She compared the two pieces that lay side by side. Though the shell was a wonder of nature, the mass-produced coin that Barrett had given as a sign of trust was the piece that made her chest tight with emotion.

With love.

“You carried this in your pocket as a reminder of your faith and that is what makes it meaningful to me. And if you hadn't intervened today—”

“I thought you said I interfered.”

She refused to take his bait and be distracted.

“If you hadn't intervened on my behalf today we might not have come to the conclusion that caused Little Conch to share this with me.”

She took his hand and carefully uncurled his fingers. The cuts were healing nicely, doing so much better after only a few days of Texas sunshine and the warm sea air. She placed the shell across his life line and pressed her palm to his. Warmth passed between them, electric in its intensity.