“You’re kidding me.” Sharlene gasped. “After all the trouble they’ve caused?”
“Speak of the devil and he shall appear,” Fiona whispered with a nod toward the door, where Dora June and Truman were pushing their way inside the store.
Both wore coats that were too big. As usual, Truman looked like he’d been sucking on lemons and Dora June had a big smile on her face.
“Hello, ladies,” she said. “Sharlene, did you hear about the fire?”
Sharlene crossed the floor in a couple of long strides and wrapped Dora June up in a bear hug. “I’m so sorry to hear what happened to your place. If I had room, I’d sure ask you to come and stay with me, but my rental house only has one extra bedroom and Mary Jo is using it until she can get on her feet and find something.”
“We’re very comfortable where we are, but thank you so much, honey.” Dora June patted Sharlene on the shoulder. “It’s so nice to have good folks in a community when tragedy strikes. I came to ask you if you have a key to the house, Fiona. Your mama gave me one so we can come and go, but I got worried that maybe you didn’t have one, so I thought it best to stop and ask before we leave town.”
“Yes, I do have a key and if you aren’t home when I get there, I’ll get the dumplings started,” Fiona said.
“We’ll be there,” Truman said tersely. “Come on, Dora June. It’s an hour up there and an hour back.” He tucked her arm into his and led her outside the store.
“Poor old things,” Fiona said. “You get a gold star for that performance, girl. I swear if I didn’t know you so well, I would have believed that you really did want to give them a place to live.”
Sharlene smiled brightly and bowed. “He’s probably hating the taste of that crow pie he’s having to chew on right now. He’s an old bear but then I would be, too, if everything I had just went up in smoke,” Sharlene said. “Thank God I don’t have a spare room because I can’t imagine living with him. You are a brave woman, Fiona Logan.”
“I know they’ve been difficult but I feel sorry for them. No children and now their house has burned,” Fiona said.
“Me too, but I sure don’t want to live with them,” Sharlene said. “Now what’s this I hear about you being divorced?”
“For a year now,” Fiona said.
Sharlene and Allie had gone to high school together, so Fiona knew the woman but she and her sisters hadn’t ever been close friends with her. Still, Sharlene had no scruples or pride when it came to diving right into the personal lives of anyone she had a speaking acquaintance with.
“And Jud?”
“What about Jud?”
Sharlene tilted her head to one side and lowered her eyelids slightly. “Is he a roommate in that big old house or something more?”
“Good Lord, Sharlene! I’ve only been home four days. Right now, Jud Dawson is someone who lives in the house with me and Mama because he’s kin to my two brothers-in-law,” Fiona said.
“Good! The way he was flirting, I might change my mind about him.” Sharlene winked and started for the door. “I still can’t believe that you came back to Dry Creek. We all wished we had your backbone when you left and didn’t even glance in the rearview mirror.”
“I’m not sure I’m staying forever.”
“I couldn’t do it. This is home and I’ll be here until they drag me out by the heels. See you later.” The bell above the door sounded loud and clear when Sharlene left.
“I’m still not staying forever,” Fiona said. But there was a little part hiding down deep in her soul that didn’t believe a word of it.
Dark comes early in the last days of November in Texas, especially when the sky is a solid sheet of gray. Katy had left from the store to go with a couple of her friends down to Abilene for a steak supper. Her car looked pretty small when Fiona parked it next to Jud’s big club-cab truck.
The cold wind cut through Fiona’s denim coat on the way from the yard to the house. If there wasn’t snow or sleet in those clouds, she’d be willing to eat a dirt sandwich for supper. The wonderful aroma of chicken filled her nose when she stepped through the back door into the utility room.
“So how was your day?” Jud sat at the kitchen table.
Her eyes were drawn to his big hands wrapped around that glass of sweet tea. “Busy,” she answered.
“I got here about thirty minutes ago. I took the chicken out of the slow cooker and just finished boning it. I don’t know how to make dumplin’s, but I got that much done.”
She removed her coat and hung it on one of the long row of nails inside the back door, kicked off her boots, and padded across the kitchen floor. “We’ll pour the broth into a pan and while it’s heating up to boiling, I’ll get the dumplings ready and stir up enough dough to make a quickie peach cobbler for dessert.”
“I love cobbler. What can I do to help?”
“Sit right there and stay out of my way,” she said.
“Yes, ma’am. I think I can handle that with no problem.”
She added a can of cream of chicken soup to the broth. By the time the broth reached a boil, the dough was ready to start dropping in half a teaspoon at a time, and the little cobbler was in the oven.
“Do we eat it in bowls like soup or do we fix other things to go with it?” he asked.
“Mama always served it like soup with thick slabs of buttered bread, cheese cubes, and sweet tea.”
“Mine did, too, except that we didn’t have the cheese.” Jud carried his empty glass to the cabinet and refilled it.
She had her back to him, and when his hands snaked around her waist, she jumped to one side and whipped around, a spoonful of dough in her hand. He backed up quickly, hands raised like she was holding a gun, and chuckled.
“Don’t hit me with that. I’d have to either change shirts or eat bare-chested and it’s too cold for that,” he said.
“Jud, we can’t…you know…start something we can’t finish…” She stumbled over the words.
“I was moving you to one side so that I could get into the cabinet. I wasn’t fixin’ to throw you over my shoulder and carry you off to the bedroom.” He lowered his hands.
“Just tell me to move,” she said bluntly.
“Move, Fiona. I need to get another glass out of the cabinet to fill with ice and tea for you.”
She stepped to one side.
“Don’t be so touchy,” he said.
“Don’t be so handsy,” she smarted right back.
“I like kissing you.”
At that, she had no words.
When the dumplings were almost done, she pulled the bubbling, crusty pie from the oven and set it on a hot pad. “That will be good with a scoop of ice cream on top. It’s always better warm, but I can eat it cold, too.” She went back to dropping dumplings into the broth. “I like kissing you, too, and that’s the problem,” she blurted.
“A problem, why?” He leaned on the counter, his big biceps straining the sleeves of his plain shirt open to show a thermal knit under it that stretched across his broad chest.
Before she could answer, a blast of cold air brought Dora June through the door. A few snowflakes were stuck to a brand-new navy blue coat and stocking hat pulled down over her gray hair. “We’re home. And bless your darlin’ heart, you started supper.” She sniffed the air. “Is that cinnamon I smell?”
“I sprinkled a little bit on one of those quick peach cobblers and the dumplings will be ready in about ten minutes. Y’all need help with packages?” Fiona asked.
Dora June removed her coat and carried it to the coat rack in the foyer. “I ain’t had a new winter coat in twenty years. Truman can bring in the sacks. It’ll do him good the way he’s been fussin’ about how much money we had to spend. You’d think we were paupers. Maybe totin’ things inside during a snowstorm will cool down his temper.”
“Soon as he gets done, we can eat,” Fiona said.
“I’ll get my coat on and go help him.” Jud was out the back door in a flash
.
Truman could be in a pout if that’s what he wanted, but Fiona fully intended to ignore him. It had been at least two, maybe three years since she’d had dumplings or peach cobbler and she wasn’t letting Truman O’Dell ruin it for her.
He glared at her when he and Jud toted in the first set of bags back to the bedroom. By the second trip, he just looked like a tired old man who wanted to eat supper, lean back in his favorite chair, and drift in and out of sleep while he pretended to watch television. Fiona felt so sorry for him that she could have wept.
When they sat down at the table, Dora June looked at Fiona and cocked her head to one side. Did she have dough on her chin or in her hair? Her hand went up to check.
“Fiona, you are the lady of the house. It’s your place to call on someone to say grace,” Dora June finally said.
“Truman, would you please?” Fiona blushed.
It was by far the shortest prayer she’d ever heard him say. When she raised her head, everyone stared at her again.
“What?”
“You want to dip the dumplings or should I?” Jud asked.
“Go ahead.” She’d spent a year eating at the cabinet or over the kitchen sink. The years she was married she had used her kitchen very few times. She’d forgotten all about the duties the lady of the house had in Dry Creek.
“Good dumplin’s,” Truman said after the first bite.
Fiona came close to dropping her spoon.
“Yes, they are and that pie looks real good, too. This is a treat to come home to food already fixed,” Dora June said.
“Thank you,” Fiona mumbled.
That was the extent of the conversation. Other than asking for something to be passed, they ate in silence, which was just fine and dandy with Fiona. She’d rather have quiet than an argument that would keep her from enjoying her supper. After they’d finished dessert, Jud refilled his sweet tea glass and carried it to his room. Truman muttered something about Dora June bringing a cup of coffee to their room when she had the kitchen cleaned and he disappeared.
“I haven’t changed my mind about you and that cowboy,” Dora June said bluntly.
Fiona cut her eyes around at Dora June. “Oh?”
“They might be hardworking cowboys like Lucy and Herman say all the time, but that ranch is what it is and no one has ever been able to change it. When their savings run out, they’ll leave and take your sisters with them. I’m not wrong. I’ve seen it happen too many times through the years. And just because your mama was kind enough to let us stay here don’t mean that I’ll change my mind.”
“Frankly, I don’t care if the whole family leaves Dry Creek because I’m not planning on sticking around a minute longer than necessary, either. Maybe we’ll all just leave together and the feed store and Mama’s store will close up. Whole town will probably fall into decay and die if that happens.”
Dora June narrowed her eyes into slits. “Your mama wouldn’t do that, but Jud will break your heart. Trust me, Fiona, this one is trouble.”
Fiona frowned. “I’m not sure that’s a bit of your business.”
“Your granny Irene was my best friend. I miss her.”
“What’s that got to do with you trying to tell me what to do?” Fiona snapped.
It started as a chuckle and grew into a laugh that had every one of Dora June’s three chins wiggling. She finally wiped her eyes with the tail of an old faded apron that had evidently come from the church clothes closet.
“You do have her temper. Nobody ever told Irene how to run her life. I always wished I could have gotten some of that for myself.”
“Never too late,” Fiona said. “Want to make some cookies tonight?”
“No, I do not! I’m going to wash a load of underwear so me and Truman can have clean things after our shower. I never wear under-britches right out of the packages and it was a real leap of faith for me to put on the ones I got at the church last night, but when you ain’t got anything else, you learn to be grateful for what you can get.”
“I’m going to make cookies and I’ll finish cleaning up the kitchen. You can get your laundry started,” Fiona said.
“Are you telling me what to do now?” Dora June raised a gray eyebrow.
“Yes, ma’am, I am.”
The older lady pursed her lips and settled her chins together in one big blob under her chin as she tilted her head down and looked up at Fiona over the top of her wire-rimmed glasses. “Just like Irene. Bossy as the devil. And look where it got her. Her mind is gone and she don’t even know her family.”
“Living with Truman, I’d think you would be praying that you’d get Granny’s dementia so you wouldn’t know him,” Fiona told her.
“Hmmmph!” Dora June snorted but her eyes twinkled in merriment. “Living with you ain’t goin’ to be easy.”
Chapter Eight
Fiona ate one cookie out of each bunch that came from the oven, so by the time the six dozen were finished, there were only five and a half left. Of that, she placed six on a plate and the rest in an airtight container and left them on the counter in case Dora June or Truman wanted a late evening snack.
She filled a quart jar with milk, twisted the lid on it, and took it along with the cookies up the stairs. If there was no light shining from under Jud’s door, she’d take the treats to her room. If there was, she’d set them on the floor, knock gently, and go on to her room.
His door was wide open. Jud was lying back in the recliner with a laptop resting on his knees and the wires from earbuds hanging down past his shoulders. He grinned and motioned her inside.
With a few flicks of the wrists, whatever was on the laptop disappeared and the earbuds were gone. “Hey, is that what I hope it is? I left the door open so none of the smell would be wasted.”
“Chocolate chip cookies and milk.” She set them on the nightstand beside his chair.
“Stay a while and talk to me. I was watching a show because I’m bored. If it hadn’t started snowing and wasn’t so damned cold, I’d be out on the porch or taking a drive.”
She sat down on the edge of the bed. “What were you watching?”
“Some episodes of Justified. I really like the first season. I hated it when the series ended, so I bought all six seasons.” He bit into a cookie and smiled. “Just like Mama makes and warm right from the oven.”
“That’s when they’re best,” she said. “So on a normal Monday night in your life before the Lucky Penny, what would you be doing?”
“Probably sitting in the living room watching television. Maybe drifting off to sleep because I’d partied too hard over the weekend. You?”
“Didn’t have the money or the friends to party with over the weekend. So I would probably be propped up on my bed reading. The television in the furnished apartment I rented didn’t have cable and only got one channel that usually played cartoons. The library was a block down from the coffee shop where I worked. On Saturday morning before my shift started, I’d go by and check out half a dozen books.”
He picked up the second cookie. “What do you read?”
“I like romance, but not paranormal. And mystery, but not the cozy stuff. Recently I’ve gotten into some cowboy romance by Katie Lane and Laura Drake.”
“Oh, so you like cowboys?” His eyes took on that dreamy I-would-love-to-take-you-to-bed look.
“I like to read about fictional cowboys. Real ones are a whole different story.” She paused and then went on. “Jud, do you think people or even places change in the course of time?”
He twisted the lid off the milk and took a few gulps. “Now, that’s an interesting change of subject. I was about to say that I’m fond of Jeffery Deaver and James Patterson and I did like Nicholas Sparks’s The Longest Ride. It’s about a cowboy. Now back to your question about change over the course of time. Water can turn to ice if it’s kept in the freezer long enough or it can change into steam if it’s boiled. According to the circumstances, things can change,” he said.
&nbs
p; “You think you can turn the Lucky Penny’s reputation?”
“Absolutely. We’ve already started. In three generations, what they say about it will be urban legend. By the time I have grandkids, folks will be flocking to this area because of the Lucky Penny. It will raise the best beef cattle in the state and possibly be pumping enough oil to put Dry Creek back on the map. Main Street will be several blocks long and every store building will be full and the population will be ten times what it is now,” he said seriously.
“All the way up to five thousand?” A smile toyed at the edges of her mouth.
“Maybe more.” He nodded.
“Optimistic, aren’t you?”
“Beats the hell out of pessimism. What else you got on your mind tonight?”
She shrugged. “You think people can change. I was sure hoping that Truman could change. I hate the tension when he is at the table. Just knowing he’s in the house right here at Christmas puts a damper on the whole holiday. He’s worse than Scrooge. What was Mama thinking? They could have lived in the church. It’s got a kitchen, and when they redid the nursery they put a shower and a sofa bed in there in case visiting preachers needed a place to stay.”
“Maybe it’s time to turn ice into steam,” Jud answered. “And, yes, people can change. It’s got to do with whether they want to down deep in their hearts but nothing, not one single thing, is permanent on this earth. Not green grass or attitudes.”
“Thank you,” she said. “But Truman is frozen pretty solid. How do we even get him out of the ice tray?”
“What’d you do with the rest of the cookies?” Jud pushed the footrest down and stood and twisted his back, working out the kinks of the day.
He could stand in front of her and do nothing but move like that for an hour and she’d be content to watch the show. It was far sexier than any dance move she’d ever seen and the way his biceps flexed—well, that reminded her of the way his arms felt around her when they were kissing, and her imagination created images that made her blush.
Merry Cowboy Christmas Page 8