by Janice Olson
“How you doing, ol’ girl? Bet your hungry, aren’t you?” He got an immediate response. Pepper’s whole body wiggled, her tail moving faster than a director’s baton at a music festival. “Just a minute. I’ll get you some food.” When Pepper moved to follow him, Jason gave the dog a hand signal. “Wait here, Pepper.”
The Blue Tick hound sat on her haunches. She got up and ambled over to her dog bowl, laid down placing her front paws one on each side of the bowl, her chin balanced on the edge. Her large sorrowful black eyes watched Jason’s every move.
“Now, if you aren’t a pitiful sight. Food’s a comin’.” Jason opened the doors and flipped on the light illuminating the mudroom and a portion of the kitchen. He reached for the bag of dog food next to the boot-bench then went back outside.
Pepper waited patiently until Jason completely filled the bowl then stepped back. She dug in chomping away at the dry food. Jason gave her another gentle pat on the side of her neck. “Have a good night, Pepper. Keep watch.”
The mournful howl of a coyote had Jason glancing off into the distance. Where there’s one there’s generally a pack of them. That could mean serious damage to his cattle. He couldn’t afford to lose any of the calves, the ones that are easy prey to coyotes. He’d have to see about setting up traps tomorrow to relocate the pesky vermin.
“Pepper—” The Blue Tick’s ears perked up. She lifted her head, intently watching her master. “You keep a watch out tonight, girl. I don’t want to lose any of those babies. You hear?”
The hound answered with a soft rawarff.
“Good girl.”
The quiet house, most time, was welcomed, but tonight he didn’t like the silence nor the feeling of loneliness. He tromped up the staircase to his bedroom, his feet heavy. The master suite oppressively empty. He hated this time of night worst of all—the time when most men his age were settling in next to their wives, with a couple of kids off in their own room already asleep.
Working out on the range alone was nothing compared to going to bed on your own in an empty house. Yet he was used to it, or at least that’s what he thought until tonight. Billy Jo had disturbed that notion.
He went about the business of getting ready for bed. He’d done quite a bit of remodeling since his folks had moved and his wife Lindsey had taken off. He missed his parents, but he couldn’t rightly say he missed Lindsey.
By the time she’d left, he was ready for her to go. When she skipped town to head to San Antonio and her boyfriend attorney waiting for her there, it had been long overdue. The lawyer hadn’t been Lindsey’s first, but he was definitely her last. What, if anything, could Jason have done differently? What a senseless waste of life.
He willed his thoughts elsewhere. Revisiting what went wrong in his marriage and the death of his wife would get him nowhere. And he was far better off living a solitary life, less complications.
Decisions would have to be made, but not tonight. Undressed, he took off his watch, placed the Seiko in the caddy on the dresser before taking a long, hard look into the mirror. He must have an invisible tattoo emblazoned across his forehead, seen only by women.
Chump.
Bone tired, he flopped onto the bed, pulling the sheet over his body, willing himself to fall asleep, but the order of the night … insomnia. He tossed and turned so many times, he had to get up from bed to untangle the sheets. By two-thirty, he was as fully awake as if it were time to get up and head out on the range.
He wished he could rain down damnation upon his aunt and her insane will. Little good that would do him now. He cursed the day he had fallen in love with Billy Jo, when she found it so easy to walk away with not so much as a goodbye.
Yet he’d be hanged if he were to allow pride to dictate his financial ruin.
The will … something he hadn’t expected. If he’d known about what his aunt had intended on doing he would have taken care of business before she died. But each time he mentioned the loans, the range he was purchasing from her, she told him she had taken care of everything.
Man, did she ever!
The ranch was almost to a point of becoming financially successful and well on its way of paying for itself, but not quite enough to pay off the loans or buy the land outright. Just when everything had begun to come together for him, along comes the train, by way of Galveston, ready to derail him. He couldn’t allow BJ to ruin all he’d worked long and hard for. His future was at stake.
A vision of long wavy blonde hair, one hundred and ten pounds of shapely unadulterated woman, popped into his head. He became disgusted with himself when his body reacted like a besotted teen. His mental picture of Billy Jo at thirty-one … more appealing than at seventeen.
His words from earlier came back to haunt him—If she moves back, I’m steering clear of the woman. He knew staying away from Billy Jo would be harder than he’d let on to Robby and Melanie. Being able to resist her would no doubt prove impossible, but his wasn’t going down without a fight.
BJ.
No secret around town what he had felt about the little slip of a girl who had deserted him. He’d known and loved her since first grade with her hair in pigtails, bows on the tips. Her scrawny little body covered in clothes that never fit. A chip on her shoulder bigger than the world, with a stubborn streak daring anyone to knock it off.
The image of BJ when she was young tugged at his compassion. The image of BJ as a grown woman tugged at his heart and messed with his mind. They grew up together, played together, and fell in love together … or at least that’s what he had thought.
Knee-deep in quicksand with no way out, he sat with one of the largest ranches in the county that could slip through his fingers at the whim of a woman. One he would have never chosen—Billy Jo, aka BJ. She held the key to ruination or success.
Certainly his aunt wouldn’t be playing matchmaker from the grave, would she? How would she know? He hadn’t mentioned BJ for well over ten years now.
If his Aunt Maddie weren’t already dead, he would have loved nothing better than to wring her neck. Instead, he’d have to live with the repercussion from her idiotic bequest.
Chapter 20
A toddler’s squeal drew BJ over to her second floor office window overlooking the south side of Strand Street at LaKing’s Confectionery and Ice Cream Parlor. Her knit brows relaxed.
A mother and father, holding the toddler’s hand, swung the little boy high into the air. His feet landed on the next step in a long succession of steps leading into LaKing’s. Another peal of happy screams rent the air. BJ’s gaze followed the trio until they successfully reached the entrance and were lost from sight.
She could envision them inside the parlor having an ice cream cone, and later the little boy with his nose pressed against the glass of the confectionery counter drooling over some Gummy Bears for later.
The poignant scene left BJ regrettably sad for the choice she’d made to stay single. But a choice, in her opinion, she didn’t take lightly and would adhere to strictly. Not knowing whose offspring she hailed from or the history of her biological family, she wouldn’t dare bear children for fear of what lay dormant within her genes.
She turned from the window rubbing the back of her neck. Head bowed, her hand lingered until her heart and mind settled the matter, closing the door once and forever … again.
A small doubt remained, which she chose to ignore.
BJ grimaced when she saw the folded slip of paper she’d found inside her purse after returning from Serenity. Where it had come from she wasn’t certain. Propped against the desk lamp next to Professor Cox’s letter, she didn’t have to look at it to know what the note said.
We don’t want your kind in Serenity. Leave and don’t come back, or next time it won’t be your tires.
She should have called the Serenity police and told them about the note. But what good could they do? Hadn’t Chief Doggett said something similar the night he’d pulled her over?
The letter from her friend and me
ntor, Professor Terrance Cox, notifying her the donor money had dried up, had come the same day she’d found the note in her purse. The donor money had enabled her to keep her dream alive of the photography/art studio for the youth of Galveston for five years.
The decision to accept the inheritance was taken from her hands. The timing of Ms. Loveless’ bequest was providential. And without the estate money, her program would be in financial hot water. There’d be no way to keep the doors open for the children. But with the estate money, she could hire help and sponsor more schools all over Texas, just like the one here in Galveston.
Heritage House would also be kept open for the year, and longer if necessary, to find families who desired children, to give the kids a fighting chance.
Taking a glance around her office that doubled as her art workroom, she gave a sigh of resignation. She loved her space. And now she was destined to be uprooted, her life molded into something not of her making.
Even before the letter had come from Professor Cox, she’d worked all week getting her affairs in order, laying out her plans for the shop, meetings with her manager. And now, the call couldn’t be put off any longer. She felt like screaming it isn’t fair.
She grabbed Horace T.’s business card and dialed.
Chapter 21
The bullet-riddled road sign gleamed in the sun but barely readable … Welcome to Serenity, Texas—Population 2,871
Uncertainty, cloaked in dread, clutched at BJ’s insides. The weakness in her knees and tight grip on the steering wheel didn’t show much confidence. Her decision would probably prove to be a mistake of the worst kind.
At the split of FM 316, BJ angled her car to the right entering the town on Main at the far end. She slowed the Jeep as the car began to bounce in protest to the red brick road.
Memories of Jace and her racing down Main Street in his ’57 Chevy, music blaring, bouncing hard enough to scramble her brains, brought a smile to her lips. Those were enjoyable days. No doubt about it, she could remember good even fun times—the memories weren’t all bad.
Ahead on the right, Harvey’s Filler-Up Quick Mart came into view. The gas gauge closer to empty than not, BJ pulled into the drive and up to the antiquated pumps. She climbed out of the car, opened her gas cap. Before she could extract the handle, a beefy hand, with deep imbedded grease, grabbed the nozzle, halting in midair.
“Well, Billy Jo, that you?”
The deep, gravelly voice sounded vaguely familiar. She glanced up into the dark curious eyes of a much older face of one of the Rueger boys. Jerry—Ben, hard to tell. Jerry worked for her, or at least he worked on the estate.
His slow grin revealed one tooth missing. The others were stained yellow from tobacco use, if the putrid brown spittle in the corner creases of his mouth was any indication.
“Yeah. Which twin are you?” Already aware of the answer, she offered a slight smile. BJ wonder if he and his brother still got into trouble, or had they outgrown the desire to become Serenity’s proclaimed public enemy number one and two?
“I’m Ben. My brother works up on the hill now.”
She nodded, not willing to touch that subject.
BJ wouldn’t call him a friend, he or his brother. More like an acquaintance. With a graduating class of forty-nine students, she could pretty well remember everyone by name, the good ones … and the bad.
He whistled through his teeth startling her. “Sweet ride. Yours?” His eyes roamed over her Wrangler.
This time, her smile broadened for real as she gazed at her bug-splattered Jeep. “Yes. It’s mine.”
“Humph. Wouldn’ta thought you’d own one of these. You know—” He scrunched his nose, shrugging. “—you being a girl and all.”
No, she didn’t know.
Ben wiped his hands on his wrinkled, greasy overalls that looked beyond redemption and smelled heavy of old sweat. A black smudge rode the thick line of his jaw. His scraggly hair, tied back in a pencil-thin ponytail at the nape, hung halfway down his back. He tugged the sweat-stained John Deere cap lower over his eyes. The hat had a missing e, and the ragged, threadbare bill curled to perfection.
After offering a lopsided grin, with his tongue he shoved the chew to his other cheek before tucking his head and tending to the task of filling her car. But not before she noticed him throw a furtive glance in her direction.
The urge to get back into the Jeep and drive off was hard to resist. Instead, she moved a few feet away.
“Fill ’er up?”
“Yes, please.” She gazed at the station. “Does Harvey still own this place?”
“Yep.”
He leaned his hip against the pump. His gaze blazed a trail over her body.
BJ worked hard to hide her revulsion.
After adjusting the gas lever, he regained his former posture and gave another low whistle as his eyes continued their journey.
“Looks like life’s treated you pretty good.” When she raised her brows, he laughed and continued. “You know … the money and Rose Mansion. Couldn’t have come out smelling any sweeter if’n you’d been born in the family.”
BJ, uncomfortable with the conversation, scrambled to change the subject. “How long you been working here?” His continued vigil of her body deepened her discomfort.
“Close to two years now. Won’t be here after today, though.”
“Oh? How come?”
“Got a new job. Working for the Drunken T.”
Since BJ didn’t know if the Drunken T was a beer joint or a ranch, the name didn’t mean a whole lot. When she didn’t comment, he appeared perturbed.
“It’s one of the biggest spreads in the county. Lot bigger than Jason’s. Soon to be the largest in Texas.” He grinned and puffed out his chest.
“Ah.” She moved to the front of her Jeep looking around, distancing herself, hoping he’d get the hint.
“Heard tell you were coming back. Figured you wouldn’t pass up the chance of all that money.”
She stiffened. Her temper boiled. Why couldn’t the people of Serenity mind their own business and stay out of hers?
“I guess you’re here to move in?” Ben nodded in the direction of Rose Mansion built on the highest spot in town, barely visible from where they stood.
BJ held her temper, holding on to what little composure she had left. She’d like nothing better than to tell him what he could do with his guess. “No. I’m not.” She smiled, knowing it didn’t quite match the anger in her eyes. The forced civility was almost impossible to master. Doing so pricked. Seeing the shock on Ben’s face, gave her a small bit of satisfaction though.
“Well ...”
The pump clicked off, drawing Ben’s attention. Whatever brilliant piece of news he was about to impart, he didn’t. He replaced the nozzle, then closed the cap. With a noticeable limp, one she didn’t remember seeing when he was younger, he headed toward the building.
Wishing she’d never stopped here in the first place, she snatched her purse from the front seat. Temper stoked, BJ did her best to calm down before entering the Quick Mart, fearing she might say something she’d regret.
Inside, the store didn’t look much different than the few times she’d stopped in with Jason to get gas for his old truck. Dingy, uninviting, the smell of rancid grease that permeated the air and always seemed to stick to your hair and clothing when quitting the place was still the order of the day. The sooner she got out of there the better.
Placing her money on the counter, she turned to look at the place. Behind smudged glass dried-up, overcooked chicken, shriveled fries and okra, sat in containers waiting for desperate hungry customers.
Hearing the cash drawer shut, she grabbed her change. “Thanks.”
“No prob. See ya around.”
Soundless words crossed her lips. “Not if I can help it.”
She walked from the building into bright sunshine, breathing in a refreshing breath of clean, fresh air, purging the putrid air of the store. Cold gripped her warm ski
n. An eerie sensation Ben was watching caused gooseflesh to rise on her arms. She climbed into the Jeep but couldn’t stop from directing her gaze at the store.
Ben leaned against the door casing, hands in pockets, his hat no longer shielding his face as he wore a rigid expression watching her drive away.
Chalk it up to small town oddity or his overt stare, it didn’t matter—he creeped her out.
Her getaway from Harvey’s wasn’t near fast enough. In the rearview, she noticed Ben stood fixed until he was a speck in her mirror.
Shoving her revulsion aside, she drove down Main Street, her eyes roamed the storefronts. The streets with high sidewalks, built for a bygone era of horses and buggies, fronted quaint shops painted in heritage colors. Some were occupied, some vacant. Only a smidgen of people passed beneath the oversized awnings.
Sadie’s Diner came into sight and BJ’s courage took a nose dive.
Three older men sat in brightly paint-chipped metal lawn chairs in front of Sadie’s shootin’ the breeze. They stopped talking long enough to be curious about the driver behind the wheel of the black Jeep. One man in faded overalls lifted his hand to shade his eyes against the sun’s glare. BJ figured he wanted a better look at the outsider. Another one pulled his cowboy hat off, slapped it along his thigh. “Well, I’ll be,” drifted in her open window. Their heads came together, lips flapping faster than leaves in a windstorm, as the man pointed in her direction with his black, dusty Stetson.
Under her breath BJ chuckled. No doubt she would be the topic of the town this Saturday morning and probably well into the night. Who knows? Might even last through Sunday.
Averting her face from the Silver Slipper Gang, she added just enough pressure to the gas pedal to move past their curious eyes without appearing to flee their scrutiny.