The Trouble with Texas Cowboys (24 page)

As luck would have it, the hostess sat Betsy and her four cousins at the next table. Tyrell was so damn close to her, that Jill caught a whiff of his expensive cologne every time she inhaled.

“If they follow us to the movies, I'm going to get the pistols out of the truck and start shooting,” Jill whispered.

“We can leave if you want.”

“Not on your life, darlin'. Now we were talkin' about you. So how did your mama and daddy meet anyway?” she asked.

“Mama's daddy was a horse trainer for my daddy's parents up in Ringgold, Oklahoma. When her daddy took her up there to visit, my daddy met her, and they fell in love.”

“How old were they?”

“Mama says fifth grade, but Daddy swears he saw her first when she was in the third grade and knew he was going to marry her even then. They were young when they married. Daddy had just finished his first rodeo tour, and she was right out of high school. They bought a trailer and moved it on his folks' ranch, and he went to work for them.”

“That was what, thirty years ago?”

“Try forty-five. They had my sister and two brothers pretty quick, and I came along as a complete surprise.”

Jill laughed. “That's why your sister bosses you around. You were her real, live baby doll.”

The waitress came back with their sweet tea and took their orders. Sawyer leaned over and kissed Jill on the tip of the nose. “Now tell me about your parents.”

The Gallaghers were right there, but they weren't important, not anymore, not when Sawyer's eyes were locked with hers and his hands were on hers on top of the table.

“They went to school together their whole lives. Daddy's folks lived out on the ranch, and her folks lived on the outskirts of town. She was determined not to marry a cowboy, and Daddy was determined that his future was in the military, so Mama says they were suited for each other. They were going to travel the world, but after basic training, Daddy got stationed in Wichita Falls for the first two years, then he was deployed to the Gulf War, and he never came home. I was just a baby, so Mama went back to southern Texas with me. She met my stepdad a few years later. He'd come to town to set up a new bank for his company, and they met at a party. They fell in love, married, and we moved to Harlan, Kentucky, but I came back to Texas to visit my grandparents every summer.”

“Kind of got in your blood, did it?”

“Grandpa said the ranchin' bug skipped my daddy and landed on me.” She smiled.

He raised her hand to his lips and kissed each of her knuckles, slowly, one by one. When his lips touched the last one, there could have been Angus bulls roaming around in the restaurant and she wouldn't have seen them. The Gallaghers, as well as all the other customers, vanished. She and Sawyer were the only two people in the whole building—hell, maybe in the whole state.

The waitress brought an appetizer of salsa and crispy tortilla chips. Sawyer picked up a chip and dipped heavily into the salsa. “Open up, darlin'.”

He slipped it inside her mouth and then did the same for himself while she chewed. When they'd both swallowed and sipped at their tea, he leaned across the table again and kissed her on the mouth. “A hot kiss with a cold tea back, can't beat it.” He grinned.

“It's amazing all right,” she said softly.

Their food arrived, and Jill filled a fork with her chicken enchiladas for Sawyer to taste before he got the taste of his beef tacos in his mouth. “See, the sour cream sauce is great.”

“Not bad.” He kept his hand on her forearm an extra few seconds. “But Mama's are better.”

“I'm starting to wish we'd driven to Comfort, Texas, for dinner,” she said.

“It can be arranged any Sunday you want to go. Of course, we'll be on the road about ten hours. Five down there, five back, but we'd have a wonderful two-hour dinner with the folks, and just think of all that time we'd have, just the two of us in the cab of a truck without any distractions,” he said.

“Well, thank you. It might be a nice date later on in the month. We could leave early on Sunday morning and not have to be back until Monday at noon if Aunt Gladys would do the Monday morning feeding for us,” Jill said.

When they were ready to leave, Jill glanced over at the Gallagher table to see the whole bunch of them staring at her. She smiled and hung her thumb in Sawyer's belt loops, letting the rest of her hand fall onto the upper part of his firm butt. The heat coming from Betsy's glares was even hotter than her fingertips on Sawyer's butt. It didn't take a degree in advanced psychology to know that whatever plans the Gallaghers had made to ruin her day had backfired and that there would be consequences.

* * *

Sawyer didn't hesitate when he bought tickets to the movies that afternoon. They were seeing the newest romance film, and in that very moment, Jill knew she'd found the cowboy of her dreams.

“I can't believe you like love stories,” she said.

He threw an arm around her shoulders and stopped inside the lobby at the concession stand. “Popcorn?”

“I couldn't put another bite of food in my mouth right now, and I never drink at a movie, because if I have to go to the restroom, I'm afraid I'll miss something important,” she said.

“Then we'll have ice cream afterward. And about love stories? Have you ever watched
NCIS
on television?” He found seats for them at about the halfway mark in the theater.

She moved all the way to the center of the row to get the best view possible. “
NCIS
is on the top of my favorites list, but what's that got to do with romantic movies?”

“Tony?”

“What about Tony? I think Michael Weatherly does a fantastic job of playing that character.”

“I'm Tony when it comes to movies,” Sawyer said.

“Ohhh,” she said. Tony was always spouting off a reference to a movie, old ones particularly.

“So you like them that much, huh?”

“When Mama visits in the spring, she's bringing my collection. I'll have to build shelves or else run you out of your office for all of them.”

“I'm not using the wall space. You can cover all of them with shelves if you want,” she said. “Oh, my!”

“What?” he asked.

“Those roses are still in there. I bet the water is soured and they're dried up and stinking.”

“Time to throw them over the pasture fence.” He grinned. “Where's the daisies? I noticed that you'd finally taken the bowls out of the bunkhouse.”

She was glad he couldn't see her scarlet cheeks. “I couldn't throw them away. They are getting pressed between layers of wax paper in the pages of several books.”

“All of them?”

“Yes, every one of them.”

“Excuse me.” A lady flipped down the seat next to Sawyer and settled in for the show.

“So sorry.” A man with a half-gallon-sized container of popcorn sat down next to Jill.

The seats behind them and those in front of them quickly filled up, and the smell of buttered popcorn filled the air. It was an expected aroma in a movie theater, but something wasn't right. She could feel it down deep in her gut. The feeling was verified when Sawyer squeezed her shoulder and leaned over to kiss her gently on the ear.

“Don't look now, but we've got Gallaghers behind us and Brennans in front of us. Kinsey is sitting by me, and her knee is pressing against mine.”

“What in the hell is going on?” she asked. “We're not part of their pig war. And why are both families here? Did they band together against us?”

“Shhh, the movie is starting,” Quaid said beside her. “Well, imagine this. You are going to the movies with me after all.” He offered her popcorn.

Jill ignored him and cupped her hand over Sawyer's ear. “There really is a rat in the woodpile. I can understand the restaurant. We talked about it in church, and someone could have easily overheard, but they had to be stalking us to show up here.”

Sawyer pulled her to her feet. “Excuse us. Got to make a popcorn run. Oh, hello, Kinsey. Didn't recognize you in the dark.”

“We'll gladly share.” Kinsey smiled.

“Wouldn't want all the Gallaghers behind you to think we were takin' sides,” Jill said.

“So what do you want to do now? See another movie or what?” Sawyer asked when they were finally out of the theater and in the lobby.

“Let's get out of here and go to the antique stores. Callie said they're open on Sunday afternoons. We could just browse for a little while and then go home and take a nap.” She shivered and said, “Quaid beside me. Tyrell right behind me. I may never like popcorn again.”

Sawyer chuckled.

“What's so funny?”

“Do you think that they are like Tony and love to watch all movies or that this is going to be a real chore for all those guys?”

A smile played at the corners of her mouth. “I'm not sure there'll be a theater still standing in a few hours, with both of the feuding families in the place. I hate that you've lost your money on a movie we won't even see.”

“Money is just dirty paper with dead presidents' pictures on it.” He chuckled again. “Now let's go pick out the furniture for your dream house.”

* * *

“Well, isn't that the cutest thing? I can see it sitting on a chest of drawers in a nursery.” Jill picked up a teddy bear made from an old quilt. The primary colors were yellows and browns, and the piece making the fat little bear belly was a yellow daisy on a brown background. He had chocolate-colored buttons for his eyes, and someone had painstakingly embroidered his nose and mouth.

Sawyer knew handiwork when he saw it. His maternal grandmother always had a hoop and a needle lying close by, and he'd watched her embroider from the time he could pull up to her rocking chair.

“It's a cute little bear.” A few weeks ago, any talk of a nursery would have sent him spinning and running toward the woods. Now it didn't seem like such a big deal.

“Oh, look at this, Sawyer. Both of my grandmothers had these and used them right up until they passed away.” She held up a metal ice tray with a lever in the middle that released the thick cubes.

“Mine still do. Let's buy it and display it to remember our first date,” he said.

She held it in her hand, working the lever up and back several times. “Where would we put it?”

“How about in the freezer with water in it to make ice?” he said.

“I love it. Then every time we fill up a sweet tea glass, we will remember how much fun we had today.”

She was absolutely amazing. Most women would have whined for days about how the Gallaghers and the Brennans had destroyed their entire day. But Jill brushed it away like a fly on her shoulder.

She was looking at a display of gravy boats when he carried the ice tray to the front counter. He hoped that she couldn't see the bulge in the side of his jean jacket made by the patchwork bear. He might not be ready for a nursery, but he had other ideas in mind for the daisy bear.

“Please put these in a big bag that you can't see through,” he told the cashier.

“A little surprise for someone?” Her mouth curved upward in a shy smile.

“Yes, ma'am. Hopefully, a big surprise later on down the road.”

Gladys, Polly, and Verdie were sitting around a table at the back of the bar when Jill and Sawyer unlocked the place and went inside, out of the blustery cold February wind.

“Guess the groundhog wasn't lyin' last week when he predicted six more weeks of winter, was he?” Verdie said.

“What are all y'all doin' here?” Jill asked.

“We're having a beer and trying to decide what in the hell we can do to end the pig war,” Verdie answered. “And we had to convince Polly that her bar was still in one piece.”

Polly lifted her bottle of beer. “Y'all have done a fine job of keeping it running for me. Thank you.”

“You are welcome, Aunt Polly, but why would you think you could end the feud?” Sawyer asked. “If it's not this, it'll be something else. It's been here for a century, and it'll take something major to end it for good. You might end the pig war, but the feud will keep coming back to life over and over again.”

“You got a point there, but it really got hot today,” Gladys said. “Tyrell Gallagher sent Leah Brennan a lovely box of long-stemmed roses. Tyrell is denying it to Naomi, who is threatening to have him drawn and quartered in the church parking lot. Mavis wouldn't even let Leah bring them in the house. She said that they were probably poisoned with arsenic.”

“Not arsenic, that other stuff. What's it called?” Verdie tapped her chin.

“That shit that's worse than bubonic plaque,” Polly said.

“Anthrax?” Sawyer asked.

They all three pointed at him. “That's it!”

Jill tied an apron around her waist. “She really thought the Gallaghers would send over anthrax?”

“Before she'd let Tyrell and Leah start dating, or any other Gallagher and Leah for that matter, Mavis would give them a bath in it,” Verdie answered.

“We all knew the day would come eventually when one of them fell for the other side, and we knew it would be a big battle. It's just hard to picture Tyrell interested in Leah. If anyone would have a torch for her, it would be Tanner.” Polly sighed.

Jill's eyes opened so wide she couldn't force them to close. She knew in her gut what had happened, because she'd done the exact same thing with the doggie treats and the pork rinds.

She slapped the bar. “Sawyer?”

“What'd I do?” He chuckled.

“This is a come-to-Jesus moment, which means it's confession time,” she said.

“Forgive me, darlin', for I have sinned, but they tried to ruin our date, and they shouldn't have brought us into their shitty old pig war to begin with. And I'm not really sorry for a bit of it.” He bowed his head and looked up at her with a broad grin and mischievous eyes.

“What are you two talking about?” Gladys asked.

“We're talkin' about roses, Chicken Chips, and pork rinds,” he said.

“And you did all of that, didn't you?” Verdie asked.

“Guilty. But we didn't ask to be kidnapped, have to sleep in a barn, or ride home in a wagon. We didn't ask to be surrounded by them at the movies or for them to try to ruin our dinner. They deserve payback,” Jill said.

Gladys clucked like a hen gathering in her chicks before a storm. She pulled her phone from the pocket of her bibbed overalls and hit two buttons. “Mavis, honey, I don't think you need to send Leah to a convent just yet. I'm not at liberty to say who sent the flowers, but they are not from Tyrell or any other Gallagher. They were sent to stir you up. No, I don't care what you say. I won't tell you how I found out or who they are from.”

A pause while she stared at the ceiling.

“No, they aren't from Tanner, either. I believe you done stirred in the wrong shit pile and upset some folks. Now that's all I'm saying. Why don't y'all call a truce? The church party is Friday night. Be nice if the feud was over by then, wouldn't it?”

No one had to strain to hear Mavis's answer. “Call a truce? Are you bat-shit crazy, Gladys Cleary? The Gallaghers stole my hogs, and there will be no truces. And you tell those smart-ass informants of yours that if I find out who they are, they are dead.”

“Guess we'd better dig the foxhole a little deeper,” Sawyer said.

“Their bark is a lot worse than their bite, but I don't reckon there's going to be a truce before Valentine's Day,” Verdie said. “I'm going home now unless y'all want to have a dominoes game at Polly's house.”

“Give me a bottle of that Jack Daniel's,” Polly told Sawyer. “And, Jill, it don't matter how many people are in here tonight. You turn off the jukebox and the lights at eleven o'clock.”

“I'll do it,” Jill said.

“And just for the record, that was funny as hell.” Verdie chuckled. “That'll teach them to keep their feudin' at home and not involve other folks in their battles.”

“Shit, Verdie! Whole town has been connected one way or the other since the damn thing started. Let's go play dominoes and drink Jack Daniel's. It'll get even funnier in an hour or two,” Polly said.

They hadn't been gone more than a few seconds when Jill's phone rang. She whipped it out of her hip pocket and said, “Hello, Callie.”

“I just heard what happened yesterday. Need some help tonight at the bar? I'll leave the kids with Finn and bring my six-guns,” she said.

“I might take you up on that if it gets too rowdy. Keep your phone on and your boots ready. Don't have to tell you to keep your guns loaded,” Jill said.

“You do not. If they want to bitch and bite, they can do it, but they'd best leave the O'Donnells alone.”

“I'm a Cleary,” Jill said.

“Hopefully not for long. I'll be ready if you need me.”

The call ended, and Jill held it out, staring at it until Sawyer's arms wrapped around her from behind and he kissed her on the neck. “Bad news?”

“I don't think so. I reckon it could have even been good news. We'll just have to see what Callie meant. She did offer to bring her six-guns to the fight if things got out of hand here in the bar tonight.” Jill eased around and rolled up on her toes for a real kiss.

His tongue teased her mouth open, and his hands dropped to cup her rounded butt. His belt buckle pressed into her stomach, but she didn't care. Her hand tangled itself into his thick dark hair, holding his head steady so she could deepen the kiss even more. His hands circled her waist, and her feet left the floor as he sat her on the workstation behind the bar. Her legs automatically wrapped around his waist and held him tight.

They both heard the truck doors slamming outside at the same time, and she dropped her hands and her legs, slid off the bar, and set about refilling the red-cup dispenser. Sawyer threw two meat patties on the grill, along with a double handful of chopped onions.

Everything but their speeding heartbeats was normal when the door flew open and more than a dozen folks from Wild Horse Ranch claimed either bar stools or tables.

“Man, I miss the days when all I did was ranch and worry about new baby calves or whether the hay crop would be good,” Jill said.

“Me too,” Sawyer said. “Come spring, I vote we hire help for the bar.”

“Got anyone in mind?”

“I do. My cousin Rhett is lookin' to get away from Comfort. He's a damn fine rancher, but he's single, and I don't think he'd mind workin' the bar. We'll have to talk to Gladys and Polly though.”

“Does he look like you?” Jill asked as she filled pitchers with beer and took money.

“You can tell we're cousins, but he's a wild cowboy, not a tame one. He's got a ponytail, rides a motorcycle, and has a longhorn tat across his shoulders.”

“You think you're a tame one?”

“Compared to Rhett, I am.”

“Hey, Sawyer, I disagree with that,” Betsy said from the end bar stool.

“With what?” Jill asked.

“I think with the right cowgirl, Sawyer could be one wild ride,” she said.

Jill ignored the remark. “What are you drinking?”

“We need two pitchers of beer and six cups over at our table. Sawyer, we'll take six cheeseburger baskets with extra fries,” Betsy said. “And, darlin', anytime you want to quit all this extra-duty shit and just ranch to your little old cowboy heart's delight, you jump the fence over onto Wild Horse, and I promise you can ranch all you want to.”

Jill set the pitchers on the bar and made change for the bills Betsy handed her. It would have been so easy to accidentally knock the beer over in her lap, but Jill figured between her and Sawyer, they'd meddled enough. Let the chips fall where they would; she was done with the whole lot of the pig war. What was it Granny used to tell her?

Oh, yes.
She shuddered as she remembered the quote.
Those
who
stir
in
the
shit
pot
should
have
to
lick
the
spoon.

“Poor old Rhett,” Sawyer mumbled.

“What about Rhett?”

“I just feel sorry for him if he does come to Burnt Boot. He won't have a pretty little redhead to watch his back. He'll be on his own with these women swooping down on him like buzzards after roadkill,” Sawyer said.

“Maybe Betsy will be his pretty little redhead.”

Sawyer shook his head emphatically. “They're too much alike. They'd kill each other in an afternoon.”

The bar was surprisingly Brennan-free all evening. There were plenty of Gallaghers and other folks to keep it busy for a Monday night, enough that Jill was dragging when she got back to the bunkhouse that night. Sawyer sank down on the sofa, and she joined him. Piggy and Chick came out from under the kitchen table where they'd been putting the fear of two kittens into a rolled-up ball of socks. She picked them both up and handed the yellow one to Sawyer.

“They need some attention before we fall asleep,” she said.

Sawyer scratched the kitten's ears. “Let's put up a sign that says the Gallaghers can come in the bar on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. The Brennans can do business with us on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. Same with the store.”

“For that, we do hereby, being sane of mind and too tired to screw each other's brains out tonight, shall promise that we will stay away from Wild Horse and River Bend. If they shall, being almost sane of mind, do hereby promise to never kidnap or flirt with us again, we will give our solemn word before God and both these kittens to never delve into retail therapy in retaliation again, heretofore and all that bullshit. Signed Jillian Cleary and Sawyer O'Donnell.”

Sawyer chuckled down deep in his chest. “Who says I'm that tired?”

“You might not be, but I am. I'm taking a shower and going to bed,” she said.

“Whose bed?”

“Mine. It's supposed to be raining in the morning, and it'll take us twice as long to do our ranchin' chores. I don't want to have to get up after two hours of sleep and kick hay bales or work with fifty-pound bags of feed.”

“Wow, girlfriend, you sure put a lot of faith in my ability. It's midnight. You think I could last for three or four hours?”

She put the gray kitten in his lap, kissed him on the cheek, and headed for the shower. “I don't have a doubt in my mind.”

Sawyer leaned his head back on the sofa. Try as hard as he might, he could not keep the grin from his face.