Colleen playfully poked her sister on the arm. “He’d be runnin’ a close race to you.”
Her hair was that strange burgundy color that usually comes out of a bottle but looked totally natural. Her face was slightly rounder than Gemma’s angular planes and her lips a wee bit wider. She was a little taller than Gemma but her bright red high heels that matched the cute little capris and western cut top put them about the same.
“Love your hair,” Austin said.
“Looks like it would come right out of a Lady Clairol bottle, don’t it?” Gemma said. “But it’s virgin as the Mother…”
“Don’t say it.” Dewar pointed.
That he and Rye were brothers was undisputable. They had the same dark hair and the exact same shade of eyes, but Dewar wasn’t quite as tall and his face more square. He also sported a deeper dimple in his chin and a scar on his cheek.
“What? I wasn’t going to blaspheme. Not with Poppa in the house. He’d bring down lightning to strike me dead. God wouldn’t have to lift a finger,” Gemma said.
Raylen chuckled. He was the shortest of the O’Donnell brothers; about the same height as Austin. As if God were making it up to him for making him the short straw, He gave him the deepest voice, the lightest blue eyes, and thick dark chestnut hair, colored somewhere between Colleen’s and Rye’s. He also gave him almost as much sex appeal as Rye and a smile that would cause major global warming.
“We’re glad you came today. We’ve missed Verline. She’d become part of our family,” Maddie said. “She was a hoot!”
“Thank you,” Austin said.
Maddie didn’t look old enough to have five grown children. She had a few crow’s feet around her bright blue eyes but her chestnut hair was as virgin as Colleen’s. She was taller than her daughters and slim as a model. Any twenty-year-old woman would have been delighted to look that good in snug jeans and a western cut lime green blouse.
Hell’s bells, Austin thought. I’d be happy to look that good and I’m thirty!
Maddie handed Austin an oversized paper plate. “Did Rye make an offer for the farm? I told him to talk to you soon as you got into town. He’s been wanting to expand for a while and that would be ideal since it’s right across the road.”
“Rye did mention it but I’m still thinking about things,” Austin said.
“Darlin’, Easter isn’t the time to talk business.” Cash nudged his wife on the arm. “Excuse her, Austin. She’s got a mind that never quits. Woman is what made this ranch what it is.”
“You got that right,” Grandma O’Donnell said from across the bar where she was piling her plate high with ham, baked beans, sweet potatoes, and a corn casserole that looked scrumptious. “Maddie took this old wore out place and turned it around. I swear that girl could make silk flowers reproduce and what she can do with horses is a gift from God. She can take a colt that’s all gangly legs and turn it into a million-dollar racer.”
Grandpa patted Grandma on the shoulder. “Got that from you, sugar.”
“Damn right she did. If I could only have one daughter among all them eight wild Irish boys then she had to be smart well as pretty.”
Austin wasn’t shy about filling up her plate. The banana nut pancakes had been wonderful but hiding Easter eggs had used up that energy and she was as hungry as Gemma. If the girl planned on having a piece of the pecan pie on the dessert table, she’d better eat fast because Austin had laid mental claim to the biggest slice.
When she sat down beside Rye at the long dining room table he raised an eyebrow at her plate. “Need some sideboards there?”
“This is just round one. I like good food and nothing you say will make me feel guilty,” she said.
Raylen slapped Rye on the back. “Met your match, did you?”
“Them Frenchies can’t hold a candle to us Irish for eating.” Rye’s eyes twinkled. He started toward his mouth with a forkful of corn casserole at the same time Austin poked him with her elbow and every bit of it landed on the front of his shirt.
He couldn’t catch a lucky break if he’d been driving a hundred and forty miles down the road in a good tailwind. The one woman he wanted to impress more than anyone in the world and every time he turned around he was as clumsy as a hippo in ice skates.
“I’m so sorry,” she said.
He wiped at it with a napkin. “At least my shirt is yellow and it won’t show.”
“You’re a good sport but be careful what you say about the French, darlin’. I’m only half French. The other half is pure English and we can whoop your Irish butt when it comes to eating,” Austin said.
Grandpa tapped Grandma on the shoulder. “Aha, she’s got spunk, sugar!”
“What’d you expect? She’s Verline’s granddaughter,” Grandma laughed.
“I forgot to get a beer. What would you like?” Rye asked Austin. “We’ve got Coke, Dr Pepper, sweet tea.”
“Coors?” she said. She could count the number of beers she’d drunk in her lifetime on one hand and wondered why in the devil she’d asked for beer when she meant to say sweet tea.
“You bet,” he said as he pushed back his chair. It was torture sitting so close to Austin with everyone wedged in so close around the table. His elbow touched hers. His leg brushed against hers. And yet he found himself rushing back to the table so he could sit close to her again.
“Loved your grandma.” Gemma was crammed in so close to Austin that their elbows practically touched when they picked up their forks. “I should’ve sat at the end of the table with this left hand handicap but I wanted to get to know you. I used to tell Verline that I was going to grow up and be just like her.”
Austin smiled. “Me too. So she was here often?”
“Every Sunday Rye could talk her out of Terral. She was like an extra granny to us all.”
Rye set a can of Coors beside her plate. It was so cold that the outside had water beads hanging on it and when she popped the top, foam floated out so fast that she had to gulp it to keep it from spilling out on the table cloth.
“Sassy, smart, and knows how to drink beer. We might keep you,” Cash said.
If Mother saw me right now I’d be casket shopping tomorrow. Beer and paper plates, all the fat and calories in the state of Texas, and a cowboy from Terral flirting with me. I don’t know if it’s because he wants my property or if he really likes me but his touch just plain sets me on fire and makes me think thoughts that would make the devil blush.
Austin raised her beer to Cash and smiled. “You’d be paying someone to take me off your hands come morning light.”
Rye wasn’t surprised by his family’s reaction to Austin. She was smart, beautiful, and sassy. That all fit right in with the Irish clan but they’d have been happy to see him bring a plain, shy woman who was only marginally pretty to Easter dinner. He was thirty-two years old and they’d always kidded that the O’Donnell offspring would marry in the order of their birth.
He’d always liked dark-haired women ever since he’d kissed his first girl when he was thirteen out behind the barn after a cattle sale. Her name had been Kaylene Stephens and her father had bought one of the O’Donnell horses. They lived in Hereford, Texas, and he never saw her again or forgot the way the kiss made him feel.
But that was nothing compared to the delicious taste of Austin Lanier’s lips on his, the feel of her soft skin on his palm, or the way her curvy body fit just right all up and down his when he held her close. If kissing had made her knees go as weak as it did his, she would have fallen over backwards on the kitchen floor and taken him with her. Now there was a happy thought.
Maddie looked across the table at her oldest son. “How’s the ham?”
“It’s wonderful. Watermelon wine?” Rye asked.
“In honor of Verline. It was my last bottle. Are you going to keep making it like she did?” Maddie asked Austin.
Austin shrugged. “Don’t know. Didn’t even know she made it.”
“Well, I hope you do. It makes t
he best ham in the world. Just pour a bottle over it and put it in the oven. Gives it just the right amount of sweet. I used blackberry wine until she brought me a bottle of hers. Does your mother have a secret for ham?”
“My mother doesn’t cook. She has a combination housekeeper and cook. I’ve never known Rosa to make ham. Mother is very health conscious and ham is on her blacklist, but this is wonderful. You should open a restaurant!”
“Don’t give her any ideas,” Grandma giggled.
“Maybe I will when I retire from raising horses,” Maddie said.
“What do you do?” Gemma turned to Austin.
“I work for Humphrey’s Oil in Tulsa. How about you?”
“I’m a hairdresser over in Wichita Falls.”
“And I’m a blackjack dealer at the casino in Randlett, Oklahoma. Sometime you’ll have to pop in at Gemma’s joint, get all dolled up, and then come over to the casino and win a few dollars at my table. Bet you could find something a hell of a lot better than Rye O’Donnell in my casino. We get some damn fine lookin’ cowboys in there,” Colleen said.
Austin smiled. Was Colleen trying to strike up a friendship or trying to steer her away from Rye?
“Want some help over there at Granny Lanier’s? She was a collector.” Gemma winked and shifted her eyes toward her grandmother.
Austin nodded ever so slightly that she understood. “Thanks, but I’ll have to go through it myself to know what to toss and what to pack for storage, but anytime you got a spare hour or two, drop by and keep me company.”
“I just might and don’t you roll your eyes at me, Rye,” Gemma said.
“You can’t see me,” Rye protested.
“I can hear it when you roll your eyes,” Gemma told him.
Austin giggled. Her childhood had been lonely. Her father had wanted at least two children; her mother wanted none. They had too much wine in Austin celebrating their first anniversary so they compromised. One child. And no more accidents.
Rye poked Austin on the arm and white-hot heat flooded through him in the form of pure old sexual desire. “What’s so funny?”
“All of you. This is fun.”
“I’m glad you think so. It’s a blistering chore to come down here on Sunday and put up with their sass,” he said but his expression didn’t back up his words.
“And what do you think it is for us? You’re a big blister on all our asses,” Colleen said.
“Momma, she’s using ugly words at the dinner table,” Raylen teased.
“No, she’s not. She’s speaking the gospel truth.” Dewar put his two cents into the mix and the argument was on.
Austin couldn’t remember the last time she’d had so much fun on Easter Sunday or any other Sunday for that matter. She’d polished off a healthy piece of pecan pie and wished she had room for another small slice when Grandma stood up and announced that it was pickin’ time.
Austin wasn’t sure what they were going to pick or if it was time for her to make excuses, say thank you, and let the family get on with whatever was next for their Easter afternoon. Surely they weren’t talking about five grown children hunting eggs out in the pasture! If they were then someone else was hiding the damn things.
“Music,” Rye whispered, his warm breath sending tingles down her arms and putting goose bumps on her scalp. “Grandma likes to do a little playin’ on Easter or any other time she can talk us into making music. Out under the shade trees in the backyard. I think it reminds her of when she was young.”
Grandma slapped him on the shoulder. “I might be old but my hearing is still good. A woman likes good music; it don’t have nothin’ to do with her age. And you need to bring that girl around more often. You’ve smiled more today than I’ve seen you do in a long time.”
“What makes you think it’s Austin causing me to be happy? Maybe I just like Easter,” he said quickly.
Grandma just patted him on the shoulder and grabbed Grandpa’s arm as he headed out the door.
Quilts had been thrown down in front of six chairs under the shade of two enormous pecan trees. Kittens romped and played on the patchwork quilts but scattered quickly when Rye and Austin sat down.
“I’d best sit in a chair today. I can sit down on the quilt without a problem, but gettin’ up, now that’s a different story.” Grandpa pulled an extra folding chair from behind the tree and set it up beside where Austin was sitting.
Colleen pointed at Rye. “You’ve got a job to do and it’s not sitting there while we work.”
“I’ve got a guest.”
“So? Granny Lanier was your guest and you still played. Get on up here. She can hold down that quilt without you.”
Two cowboys flopped down on the pallet with Austin and Rye.
The taller one with the light brown eyes flashed a smile at Austin. “Hey, we’ll help hold down the quilt and talk to the pretty lady while y’all play.”
The other one nodded seriously at her. “I’m Ace Riley and that ugly cowboy would be Wil Marshall. He can’t help it if he’s as ugly as a mud fence covered up in horse apples. Protect your eyes and don’t look at him, ma’am. And you’d be Miz Verline’s granddaughter? She always did say we ought to meet each other.”
Rye bristled at the banter and shot a mean look across the distance separating him and Ace. He would have liked to have shot a fist over and connected up with his eye even if Ace and Wil were his two best friends.
Colleen strummed on the banjo. “Come on, Rye. We are waiting.”
Grandma pulled up a chair beside her husband. “I’m sittin’ this one out. You kids get the instruments warmed up and then I’ll take over.”
Rye slowly got to his feet and picked up the guitar waiting on the last chair left with an instrument in it but he kept an eye on his two friends who were busy carrying on a conversation with Austin. Raylen was adjusting the strings on a fiddle. Colleen had a banjo strapped around her neck; Gemma was playing the Dobro; Dewar was sitting down with a dulcimer in his lap. And Maddie had a harmonica up to her mouth, running up and down it to get the feel for the right sound.
Rye struck up a chord and they all fell in to begin the backyard concert with “Red River Valley” and followed that by “Bill Bailey.” In the latter Rye had the lead and made the guitar whine the melody so well that Austin could hear the words to the old song in her head as well as if someone was singing it.
Grandma stood up at that time and kissed Grandpa on the forehead. “They got them all warmed up now, darlin’, so I’ll play your favorite.”
He grinned and she took the dulcimer from Dewar and motioned for him to relieve Raylen from the fiddle and for Raylen to take over for Rye.
“Good grief, can they all play all of those things?” she asked.
“No, honey, only Raylen can do it all. The rest are limited to a couple or three each. But Raylen and my sugar can play anything that falls into their hands,” Grandpa said.
“We’ll be doing ‘Rye Whiskey’ now and, honey, you’ll be singing,” Grandma said.
Grandpa nodded.
Dewar pulled the bow across the stings and the whine of the fiddle stirred something deep in Austin’s soul. Guitar music joined him and then the rest of the instruments before Grandpa came right in on cue with the first words of “Rye Whiskey.”
Rye held out a hand to Austin. “Walk with me and see the new colt Momma got last week.”
“No fair, stealing her away. You know Granny Lanier wanted me to meet her. She even said our blue eyes matched up so perfect that we’d have beautiful great-grandchildren for her.” Ace laid a hand on hers to hold her back.
She didn’t feel anything but a big, old warm hand; no tingles, no internal fires, no oozy feeling in the pits of her gut. She pulled her hand away and put it in Rye’s and there it was: all the blazes of hell!
“Granny Lanier would have shot you on the spot if you’d come sniffin’ around the door,” Rye said. “She knew you were a bad boy.”
“Not me.” Wil reached up
and grabbed her other hand to keep her from walking away with Rye. “I’m the good boy. You two were always the ornery ones. Austin, I swear I’m the good one and I can prove it. Look at their arms. They’re the ones who got drunk and wound up with tats. I was the good one who didn’t let them talk me into such a thing.”
Austin was amazed. Rye’s touch was sending shock waves from her hair roots all the way to her toenails. Wil’s was like shaking hands with a new customer at the oil company. She pulled free from Wil’s hand and let the jolt of electricity flow through her as Rye pulled her to her feet.
“Yeah, right!” Rye said. “You were too drunk to get out of the backseat and get one. If you’d held your whiskey better you’d have been right in there with us.”
Austin had never had three men fighting over her. It felt pretty damn good even if they were all teasing, but Rye was the only one she had eyes for that day. She didn’t jerk her hand free when he laced his fingers into hers and led her toward the barn in the distance. She looked back to see Ace and Wil grinning, Gemma giving her a thumbs-up sign in between strums on the Dobro, and Colleen frowning.
When they reached the corral, Rye popped a leg up on the lowest rung of the white fence and looked out over the mares and their new offspring. Austin leaned on a fence post and watched the long legged colts romping in the afternoon sunshine.
She could hear music behind her and recognized “Barbara Allen.”
“Do they play anything current?”
“Yes, they do. We just play the old ones when Grandma is around. She still likes that kind of music. Isn’t listening to the old stuff better than going through dusty old boxes all day?”
She leaned on the fence beside him. “Yes, it is. Granny used to have an old fiddle cassette with lots of those songs on it. When I was little we’d dance around the living room together. Come to think of it, there was actually room to dance around in those days. When did she start bringing in so much junk? Did you and Granny walk out here on Sunday afternoons?”
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