"Jim wouldn't hurt a horse,” Stella said with a firm shake of her head. “He wouldn't cheat anyone in any way.” Except with the boss's wife. She looked away, seeing the grief flare in her father's eyes.
Leland took a deep breath before continuing as if she hadn't spoken. “Willie jumped to conclusions again. He was famous for that habit. He was prejudiced straight down to the marrow. He never had any respect for blacks, Mexicans or Indians. Everyone knows Jim's all but full-blooded Apache. One morning he apparently got rip-roarin’ drunk, weaved his way on over to Jim's while he was working, trapped Cecily and Abigail inside, and set the cabin to blazing."
"Heartless,” she hissed. Her stomach was twisted in a thousand knots. “Drunk doesn't excuse him. You have to be a cold-blooded son of a bitch to do something like that.” She hesitated. “Where is he?"
"Dead,” he said. “He didn't live to see jail time.” He lowered his hand and met her gaze. “I chose not to tell you, Stella, because it was a scandal like this town had never seen. I thought it lit up when your mother left the Range. We did everything we could to keep it quiet, praying one of those paparazzi bastards wouldn't find out and blow it apart in the national media. Can you imagine? We could all just see the headlines. ‘Estranged Mother of America's Sweetheart Killed in Cold Blood.’”
"No one in town tried to profit?” she asked, stunned.
"This town pulled together like I've never seen it. They were all at the funeral, the wake. They took turns coming here for dinner every night, comforting Jim. I like to think this is the only place in the world that could do a noble thing like that.” His chair creaked as he heaved to his feet. “I'm sorry you didn't know, Stella. The media would've swooped down on you and the family like vultures and picked us all apart until we were nothing but dry bones."
She grasped his knotted hand in both hers. “You shouldn't have grieved alone."
He brushed her bangs back from her brow with a sad smile. “I'm tougher than I look, darlin'."
She pressed her face to his shirt, choking back tears. “You're the strongest man I know."
He tipped her chin up to look at her. “You came home to rest, not to get dragged into this emotional mess. Why don't you go into town today, see all your old friends?"
"I need to,” she admitted. “I need to pick up some things. I held it off yesterday because I don't know how it's going to be. I know it won't be the same after what I've made myself, what the media's made me."
"It won't be normal again,” he agreed. “But I think you'll find the folks here in Wayback more understanding than you'd imagine."
* * * *
Stella drove her rental car into town after breakfast and made a mental note to get it back to the airport the coming week.
Wayback's Main Street was pretty much unaltered. The pretty gazebo in the town square still stood in the same spot. The old war memorial was there, too. A few people loitered or walked on the sidewalk. She recognized the courthouse, the Baptist church, and the bank. Those were definitely all the same. A few of the names on the storefronts had changed.
Mr. Murphy's boot shop was now owned by his daughter, according to her father. She pulled into the only empty parking spot out front and took a moment to adjust her oversized sunglasses as she studied the black and white sign with pink lettering over the entrance.
Cow Patti's Custom Boots and Hats
She got out of the car, fingering the scar by her lip. She walked across the sidewalk to the shop entrance and pushed through the glass door.
That wonderful smell of fresh leather filled her nostrils. She relaxed instantly, looking around at all the options. No one was in sight. She roamed over to the hat section, drawn to the white ones. She was lifting her hand to touch one when a petite blonde with a sunny smile breezed in. “Hey there! Sorry I didn't hear you come in."
"It's fine,” Stella said, looking down at the hat again. “I'm just browsing for now."
"Are you looking for anything in particular?” the blonde asked, walking to her. “That there's a very nice hat. You'll need a smaller size, though. Want me to get you one?"
"Sure,” Stella said and watched as the woman disappeared in the back. She wandered over to the boots and was scanning the quality selection when the blonde weaved her way back into the shop. “Here you go. Try this one. There's a mirror right over here."
Stella went to it and put the hat on her head. She turned her head at angles to check the look from all sides. “It's nice,” she said. “Comfy. I think I'll take it."
"Well, color me happy!” the blonde chirped, taking the hat Stella handed her. Her eyes narrowed on Stella's face. “You know, I don't think I've ever seen you in here before, but you look so familiar. Are you new in town?"
Stella hesitated. “Kinda,” she decided.
The blonde's eyes were still scrutinizing her face. “Maybe if you took off those glasses, I could place you."
"Um ... I don't think we've ever met before,” Stella said, taking a step back in retreat.
"No, no, I'm sure we have,” the blonde said, advancing. “What's your name?"
Stella sighed and reached up to pull off the glasses. “I'm Stella. Stella Ridge."
The shock was instant. The blonde's mouth dropped open in a loud gasp. A smile beamed from her face. She all but leapt at Stella, clasping her arm. “Oh my goodness! The real Stella Ridge, right here in my shop.” A giddy laugh burst out of her. “This is great!"
Stella grinned. “You must be Mr. Murphy's daughter."
"Patti Pie Murphy.” She shook Stella's hand vigorously. “You don't know me. I was still in middle school when you left town. I do remember you being crowned Miss Rodeo. You still hold the record for youngest Miss Rodeo in the history of Wayback."
"I-I didn't know that."
"Everybody around here knows everything about you. Oh, wait ‘til I tell Lyssa and Gina and ... oh, everybody's going to want to welcome you back."
Stella fought not to wince. “Not today, I hope.” She glanced down at the boots. “I'd like to try—"
"Oh, anything you want, honey,” Patti promised. “Anything at all. You just name it!"
The bell over the shop door opened. “Now, now, Patti Pie. Don't ambush her."
Stella looked over. Two women stood at the shop entrance. For a moment, she blinked at their familiar faces. She recognized the brunette first. She grinned wide and stepped toward her. “Teensy?"
Teensy beamed. “Stella Ridge, get your butt over here and give me a hug!"
"Oh, my God!” Stella exclaimed, throwing her arms around her neck. “You look great!"
"I'm married,” Teensy boasted, holding up her left hand to show off the diamond. “It's Teensy Belle Griffin now."
"Congratulations. How exciting!” She looked at the striking redhead, still fighting for a name.
"You wouldn't remember me,” the woman said. “We didn't exactly run in the same circles in high school."
Stella narrowed her eyes. “It's Josie, isn't it? Josie Brusky."
Josie's needle-thin brow lifted. “Well. You remember."
"I remember you,” Stella said, her voice going cold.
Josie lifted a shoulder. “You wouldn't let an old rivalry come between us after all these years, would you?"
Before Stella could answer, Patti clapped her hands. “I have a fantastic idea!” When she was sure she had both Stella and Josie's attention, she said, “You have to come to The Blue Bug tonight."
Stella opened her mouth to protest, but Teensy wouldn't hear a word. “I insist!” she said. “It's the perfect place to meet everyone again. And it's Ladies Night. I'll buy you a beer."
Stella looked from Patti's eager expression to Josie's calculating stare. She swallowed hard and plastered on a smile, turning to Teensy with a nod and wondering what the hell she was getting herself into. “Sure."
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Five
Stella saw all the stares before Teensy pulled her
through the door of The Blue Bug Saloon. Band music almost drowned out Teensy's chattering voice. Stella blinked several times until the dim dance floor came into view. It was packed, and the couples on it were boot-scooting with a furor that immediately snuck into her blood, encouraging her to join them.
As her eyes adjusted further and Teensy pulled her toward the long bar for her promised beer, she saw pool tables toward the back. The Blue Bug was definitely Wayback's hotspot for late night fun.
She'd already attracted a bit of attention. Teensy was leaning over the bar whispering in the ear of the bartender who was staring openly at her. Several of the people sitting on barstools were glancing at her, trying to look casual but failing miserably.
Teensy handed her a bottle of Bud. She barely had time to take a sip before her friend led her to one of the few empty tables. She sat down and took a moment to breathe. “Wow, this place is crazy!"
Teensy winked. “This is my first Ladies’ Night in six months.” She tapped the neck of her bottle to Stella's. “Cheers."
They both drank. More and more people were beginning to look their way and whisper behind their hands. Stella smoothed her hands over her blue jean skirt, trying not to feel itchy. “See anyone I'd know?” she asked Teensy.
Teensy peered around. “Quite a crowd tonight.” She leaned over the table and pointed toward the back pool tables. “See the one on the right? Not the one with the great ass. The other one. Belly over jeans. Take a wild guess who that is."
Stella stared hard at his face. “I give up,” she said after a minute.
Teensy smirked. “Wyatt Long."
Stella made a face. “No way! Wyatt Long, my old—"
"—boyfriend,” Teensy finished with a giggle. “The same one Josie stole from you. You were enemies from that day forth."
"She still the same?” Stella asked, thinking of the shrewd redhead.
"You mean is she still a boyfriend stealer? Nah. She doesn't have to steal ‘em now. They flock to her door. Your brother may be the most notorious bachelor in town, but Josie could put him under the rug if she rattled off about all the men she's rolled over hers with. Some people just don't change and Keefe and Josie are prime specimens."
"Sad,” Stella muttered. She tipped her bottle toward the dance floor. “Is that the Ballews’ oldest daughter? What's her name?"
"Gina,” Teensy told her. “That yummy piece of eye candy she's two-steppin’ with is her husband, Nash Logan. The two have been inseparable since he came into town for the rodeo two years ago. Now they own Cactus White's old place, Cactus Creek. They've got the most adorable baby boy, and more moves than a can of worms."
"I feel so old,” Stella groaned, lifting the beer to her lips to drink deep.
Teensy gave her a stern look. “If you're old, I'm old. Don't get started."
"I apologize,” Stella laughed. The band began to croon an old Tim McGraw song. “Mm. Love that one."
Teensy smiled slyly. “Bet you met him."
"Who?"
"Tim McGraw. Didn't he make a movie?"
"I think so,” Stella said. “But I've never met him. I met Kenny Chesney, but that was back when he was married to Renee Zellweger."
"Wasn't that a short one?” Teensy said with a roll of her eyes. Her eyes sharpened on Stella's face. “You know why?"
Stella shook her head. This was exactly the kind of conversation she'd dreaded. “No idea.” Thankfully, there was a group of women headed their way, eyes locked on her.
The leader stuck a hand out and introduced herself as Kenzie Westen, helping herself to the seat between Stella and Teensy. “We didn't go to school together or anything,” Kenzie explained. “I just thought I'd come over and meet you, welcome you back to town."
"Thanks,” Stella said, a bit unsure. She didn't like the way Kenzie or any of her flocking friends were eyeing her.
Like a circus clown who wasn't quite funny.
"You look great,” Kenzie complimented. “We haven't really seen you on TV since that big car crash in LA."
Stella's heart thumped with dread. To avoid answering, she gulped from her bottle, hoping to catch the bartender's eye. She was definitely going to need another if this kept up.
Kenzie apparently wasn't going to be denied. She leaned forward, a little too close for comfort. “Is that from the accident?” she asked, pointing to the corner of her own mouth to indicate her meaning.
Stella almost choked on her beer. She cleared her throat and nodded shortly.
"Ah, you poor thing,” Kenzie said, leaning back. Her eyes were wide with sympathy. Stella looked around those surrounding her and saw the same look on their faces. She bit the inside of her lip hard to fight back irritation.
"I wonder...” Kenzie pursed her lips and cupped her chin in her fist. Her eyes narrowed on Stella's face. “Would anybody hire you now with your face like that?” She must've seen the anger flash onto Stella's face. She held up her hands. “I don't mean to insult you or anything. You're still gorgeous and talented and all that. But they say an actress's face is her biggest selling point."
"That's enough, Kenzie,” Teensy cut in, making a shooing gesture. “Go on back to your corner now."
"What?” Kenzie asked with an innocent shrug. “I'm just asking a question."
"Git!” Teensy hissed.
Kenzie took the heated hint. She gave Stella a last, pitying smile. “It was real nice meeting you."
Stella wiggled her fingers in response though she couldn't muster up a smile. Her blood was boiling high. Suddenly lacking any desire for it, she stared at her half-empty bottle.
Teensy's hand covered hers. Stella looked at her face and inwardly winced when she saw her concerned expression. “You okay?” she asked in a gentle tone.
Stella snatched her hand away and stood. “I should go."
Teensy blinked in surprise. “You sure?"
"Yeah,” Stella said. She forced a smile on her face. “Thanks for the beer, Teensy. I'll see you around."
* * * *
She drove so fast, hell-hounds might've been chasing her home. Her eyes were stinging but not from tears. Her heart pumped like a furious engine. The rental car's motor whined to catch up.
She yanked the gear shift back and accelerated. It was dark but the moonlight was bright white, extending her viewing range past that of her headlights.
The sympathetic faces of Teensy, Kenzie Westen and the others dogged her. Her top lip curled up. She didn't need their pity. Couldn't they see that? How could they not know that? She wasn't made of glass. She'd recovered, walking upright on two whole legs, thinking and talking just like everybody else. Why did they look at her like she was a three-legged dog or a vegetable in a sickbed?
She muttered a vicious curse that would've made Keefe, the family potty mouth, proud.
Stella was so mad, her mind back at The Blue Bug, she didn't see the fox until it was in the road right in front of her headlights.
She gasped and slammed on the breaks. Tires skidded on the new pavement as she yanked the wheel hard to avoid hitting the animal. The car flew off the road and she screamed as it bounced hard into and out of the ditch. She was flung back against the headrest then forward. Her seatbelt locked into place, saving her from face-planting into the steering wheel.
She didn't have time to scream when she saw the fence post looming toward her. Lifting her hands to shield her face, she felt every muscle in her body brace for impact.
The car seemed to drop out from under her. It yanked to a stop, as if someone had tied a lasso around it and yanked it back like a roped steer at the rodeo. The car jerked roughly to a halt before it could slam into the fence.
She sat frozen in the driver's seat, hair in her face, for a long, silent moment. Then a long, shaky breath escaped her on a fearful, racking sob. She lowered her spinning head to the steering wheel, gripping it until her knuckles felt like they would pop out of her skin.
She sat that way, sucking in quavering breaths, bones ra
ttling in fear. The memories that had plagued her dreams reeled through her mind like a bad movie.
It's over. Some voice from her consciousness broke through the hysteria. It's over and done with.
She pushed herself upright and reached up to wipe away the tears rushing down her cheeks. With trembling fingers, she pulled down the visor above her and looked in the mirror, checking for blood on her face. It was chalk white but there was no new damage.
She breathed a long sigh of relief, gripped the door handle and pushed it open. Getting out on shaky legs, she bent over double, hands on her knees until she was sure they'd be steady underneath her again. She walked around the side of the car. Another curse escaped her, this one blasting out.
The left back tire had come completely off the car and was lying in a giant pothole on the side of the road. She leaned back against the car, scowling at the sky and reeling in her frustration. Yelling and cussing wasn't going to get her anywhere. She looked up the road then down it, realizing she was still a good three miles from home. After rooting through her purse, she found her phone unresponsive. She'd forgotten to charge the battery.
"Shit!” she blurted, unable to hold back the oath.
It'd be a long walk.
Just as she was resigning to the hike, she saw headlights in the distance. Her heart leapt. “Oh, please don't be a murdering rapist,” she pleaded, running toward the road. As the vehicle approached, she waved her hands over her head. “Please stop. Please stop. Please stop."
She breathed a huge sigh of relief when it slowed and pulled to the shoulder. Hearing the window roll down, she walked around to the driver's side.
Blackest Heart [Wayback Texas] Page 4