“Next one is for you, buster,” she yelled as plaster, insulation, and paint chips rained down upon her and Trixie.
Trixie grabbed both ears. “God Almighty, Agnes!”
“Bet that showed him who is boss around here, and if you don’t quit usin’ them damn cussin’ words, takin’ God’s name in vain, I might aim the gun at you next time. And I don’t have to tell a smart-ass like you where I got my getup, but I was tryin’ to save your sorry ass so I dressed up like a detective,” Agnes said.
Trixie grabbed Agnes’s arm, pulled her up, and kept her moving toward the stairs. “Well, you look more like a homeless bum.”
Agnes pulled free and stood her ground, arms crossed over her chest, the smell of mothballs filling up the whole landing area.
“We’ve got to get out of here in a hurry,” Trixie tried to whisper, but it came out more like a squeal.
“He said he’d kill you, didn’t he?” Agnes finally let herself be led away. “I knew it, but I betcha I scared the shit out of him. He’ll be crawling out the window and the police will catch him. Did you get a good look at the bastard? We’ll go to the police station and do one of them drawin’ things and they’ll catch him before he tries a stunt like that again.”
They met four policemen, guns drawn, serious expressions etched into their faces, in the kitchen. Every gun shot up and pointed straight at Agnes and Trixie.
Trixie threw up her hands, but Agnes just glared at them.
“Jack, it’s me and Agnes. This is just a big misunderstanding.”
Living right next door to the Andrews’ house his whole life, Jack Landry had tagged along with Trixie, Marty, and Cathy their whole growing-up years. He lowered his gun and raised an eyebrow.
“Nothing going on upstairs, I assure you,” Trixie said, and she wasn’t lying. Agnes had put a stop to what was about to happen for damn sure.
Trixie hoped the old girl had an asthma attack from the mothballs as payment for ruining her Wednesday night.
“We heard a gunshot,” Jack said.
“That would be my shotgun. It’s up there on the floor. Knocked me right on my ass. I forgot that it had a kick. Loud sumbitch messed up my hearing.” Agnes hollered and reached up to touch her kinky red hair. “I lost my hat when I fell down. I’ve got to go get it.”
Trixie saw the hat come floating down the stairs and tackled it on the bottom step. “Here it is. You dropped it while we were running away.”
Agnes screamed at her. “You lied! You said we had to get away from him before he killed us, and I ran down the stairs, and I’m liable to have a heart attack, and it’s your fault. I told Cathy and Marty not to bring the likes of you in this house. It’s an abomination, I tell you. Divorced woman like you hasn’t got no business in the house with a couple of maiden ladies.”
“Miz Agnes, one of my officers will help you across the street.” Jack pushed a button on his radio and said, “False alarm at Miss Clawdy’s.”
A young officer was instantly at Agnes’s side.
Agnes eyed the fresh-faced fellow. “You lay a hand on me, and I’ll go back up there and get my gun. I know what you rascals have on your mind all the time, and you ain’t goin’ to skinny up next to me. I can still go get my gun. I got more shells right here in my britches’ pockets.”
“Yes, ma’am. I mean, no, ma’am. I’m just going to make sure you get across the street and into your house safely,” he said.
Trixie could hear the laughter behind his tone, but not a damn bit of it was funny. Andy was upstairs. The kitchen was full of men who worked for him, and if Cathy and Marty heard there were problems at Clawdy’s, they could come rushing in at any time.
“Maiden ladies my ass,” Trixie mumbled. “I’m only thirty-four.”
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About the Author
Carolyn Brown is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author with more than sixty books published, and she credits her eclectic family for her humor and writing ideas. Her books include the cowboy trilogy Lucky in Love, One Lucky Cowboy, and Getting Lucky; the Honky Tonk series with I Love This Bar, Hell Yeah, Honky Tonk Christmas, and My Give a Damn’s Busted; and her bestselling Spikes & Spurs series with Love Drunk Cowboy, Red’s Hot Cowboy, Darn Good Cowboy Christmas, One Hot Cowboy Wedding, and Mistletoe Cowboy. She was born in Texas but grew up in southern Oklahoma where she and her husband, Charles, a retired English teacher, make their home. They have three grown children and enough grandchildren to keep them young.
Just a Cowboy and His Baby (Spikes & Spurs) Page 29