Lone Star Cinderella

by Debra Clopton

  And with Seth Turner of all people.

  Seth was outgoing, totally dashing and self-assured—that is, when he wasn’t upset as he had been just now. Obviously, not getting his own way didn’t suit him. They were polar opposites in every way. No one recognized that more than she did. She hovered in the background, forgettable in her quietness, while Seth was unforgettable. When the man entered a room, you noticed. When the man left a room, you noticed. Consequently, women flocked around him.

  She should know, she’d watched from afar—as in far across the room—for two years. And she’d gotten the idea watching him that he took his female adoration for granted. As if he didn’t care one way or the other that the women were there, he just expected they would be. Oddly that just seemed to draw them all the more. Women were weird like that sometimes.

  Understanding her limitations and shortcomings she’d admired him from a distance. So much so that she almost hadn’t called to ask if she could see the stagecoach house in the first place.

  Who would have thought all of that would lead to her watching him speed off into the hot summer heat, temper blazing? Without a doubt, she would never have had this opportunity if he’d been the one to pick up the phone that day.

  She wasn’t exactly sure what the two brothers had going on between them but thank goodness she’d signed a lease.

  Why was Seth so against the idea of her being here?

  That put a damper on the pride she felt for having stood up for her rights. But really, when she’d decided to do this research on outlaw Sam Bass it had been because she desperately needed a distraction from her life. Lately she’d begun to feel a complete and utter lack of respect for herself. And it felt wrong to feel so much resentment toward her brother…and even her parents to some extent, God rest their souls. But lately, as her brother, Ty, had continued his roller-coaster ride of alcohol and drugs, expecting that she would always be there to pay his way like her parents had, she’d begun to feel trapped. Guilt riddled her and turmoil had begun to rule her life once more. Just as it did every time Ty went off the wagon and started using again. No matter what she did with her life, she’d realized that Ty ruled it. And she didn’t know what to do.

  The idea of losing herself in researching Sam Bass and the hidden treasure had come to her late one night when she was reading and trying to forget a particularly nasty phone exchange she’d had with Ty…she had to admit that sometimes she wanted to run away. It was hard dealing with Ty and everything—treasure hunting seemed like such a fascinating escape.

  It had been the depth of her stress level that had given her the courage to make the call to tour the stagecoach house. And it had been the thought of losing this great opportunity that had caused her to stand her ground against Seth Turner.

  And now, she had a new mystery that intrigued her. Hurrying inside the stagecoach house, she wondered what was in those journals that would make Seth want to keep them secret.

  The only way to find out was to read them.

  She headed straight to the hall closet where they were stored in an 1800s strongbox. Grabbing hold of the brass handles, she dragged the heavy wooden chest out into the open and lifted the lid. When Wyatt had shown the journals to her she’d been curious, but she was so excited about her own research that she hadn’t yet looked inside of them. Now Seth’s reaction had her full attention, and she was compelled to find out what it was he was so concerned about.

  “Let’s see what you’re hiding,” she mumbled. Picking up the first journal, she sat cross-legged on the floor and began to read.

  Seth already regretted it as he stormed into his house. Yanking open the fridge door and pulling out a soda, he popped the tab so hard the metal ring flew across the room and bounced off his John Deere calendar. What had his foolhardy brother been thinking?

  Seth took a long drink of the dark liquid feeling the flavor burn its way down his throat. Restless, he crushed the can in his hand before stalking to his office. He slouched into his chair as he grabbed the phone and jabbed his brother’s number into the keypad. He waited for what seemed like an eternity but was really only four rings before Wyatt picked up.

  “You better be glad there’s three hundred miles between us right now—”

  “Man, I knew it!”

  “Knew what?”

  “Knew that timid woman would get to you. Got to me. I couldn’t help myself.”

  “You couldn’t help yourself? What kinda crazy, cockamamy story is that? If you couldn’t help yourself, then fine, give her the tour and be done with it. But don’t have her sign a lease and move her in on my turf.”

  Wyatt bellowed with laughter.

  “Stop laughing. This isn’t funny. You know good and well I don’t want her out there rifling through Grandma Jane’s journals.” Grandma Jane was actually his great-great-great-great-great-grandmother, but growing up knowing their family tree like they did had its problems when telling stories. Seth and his brothers had shortened all their grandparents to Grandpa or Grandma and followed it with their first name. It made life easier.

  Wyatt groaned over the line. “Seth, man. You and I both know she’s not going to find anything in them. We’ve both read them, and there is no truth in the tall tales Gramps spouted off all those years ago. Would you just relax? Look, I have to go or I’ll be late.”

  “Hey,” Seth snapped but the line was already dead. More disgruntled than ever, Seth leaned back in his chair and stared at his black computer screen. He envisioned Melody Chandler’s bright eyes staring out at him. Wyatt would have been as surprised as he was to see nothing timid in those eyes today. Where had the woman he’d met today come from? The plain Jane he’d seen around town for the last couple of years seemed reserved and…well, to be brutally honest, boring.

  The woman he’d encountered today had eyes that caught the light with her enthusiasm and indignation. Today those eyes sparkled like his mother’s amethyst brooch. It had been amazing. How had he never noticed them before?

  Because you never looked before.

  True. He tried to think if he’d ever actually been close enough to have seen the richness of color in them…he came up empty. Matter of fact, he’d bet the closest he’d ever come to her was when he’d attended the singles Sunday school class—not that he went to Sunday school class often. He was more of a congregation man. And he was certain that when he was in the auditorium that Melody Chandler was always clear across the room from him. He had noticed her over there, though. Noticed that she was one of those women who seemed to sit down and grow smaller. Like she drew into herself. She looked neither to the left or the right as she listened to the preacher’s words. Personally, he thought she looked like she’d locked herself up in a box.

  But today she’d seemed stronger. Bolder. He smiled thinking of how she’d puffed up and glared at him. Of course he could tell she was bluffing…one thing about his great-great-great-great-great-Grandpa Oakley—just plain Grandpa Oakley for short—was that he’d known a bluff from a mile away. It was said that when it came to poker the man hadn’t needed to lie or cheat. That he won at poker because he could read people…it was a trait he’d passed down to Seth. And he’d thought he was pretty good at it until today.

  No doubt about it; Melody would have grabbed her bags and hit the road back to town the split second he’d snapped “git.”

  All he had to do was push a tad harder and she’d vacate his property—rental contract or not. And that was the kicker—why hadn’t he pressed and sent her running?

  Because he was intrigued and surprised…and that hadn’t happened to him in a very long time.

  “I still ain’t believin’ that them three gals went on a cruise,” Applegate Thornton was saying the next morning when Seth walked into Sam’s Diner. “If that ship knows what’s good fer it it’ll ban Norma Sue and Esther Mae from the sun deck.”

  “And what about yor fair-skinned Adela, Sam? She could come home fried like a lobster,” Stanley said.

&
nbsp; Seth took his seat at the counter beside another cowboy, Luke Burns. He was sipping his coffee and listening to the conversation like the entertainment that it was. App and Stanley were longtime buddies and spent most mornings at the front window table in battle over their checkerboard. Like most of the men around town Seth liked getting to the diner before they left so he could hear what the two men had to say.

  “Y’all don’t need ta be a worry’n about my wife. Adela’s got more sense in her pinky than you two got combined. She’ll be wearin’ a hat and plenty of sunscreen.” The wiry little man plunked a white coffee cup in front of Seth and filled it in one fluid movement.

  “Now don’t go getting all riled up, Sam,” Applegate practically hollered—not because he was mad, just half deaf and too stubborn to keep his hearing aid on. “All’s I’m sayin’ is them three could git into trouble off out thar in the Atlantic. I ain’t believin’ you, Roy Don and Hank let um go.”

  Sam scowled at his old friend. “Let um go? Them’s three grown women with independent minds. They got this idea ’cause us fellas didn’t want ta set foot on that floating Titanic so they went without us.”

  Applegate, thin as a toothpick and as dour as a pickle, looked from Stanley to Sam. “You scared of the water?”

  Sam nodded. “Yup, and I’m man enough to admit it.”

  Luke chuckled and drew a glare from Sam. “Son, I might be short and twice yor age but I kin kick yor sorry hide right out of that thar door.”

  “No offense, Sam, but you got to admit it’s sorta funny.”

  Sam snorted and crossed his arms as he glared at all of them. It was clear that he was in no mood to be messed with. To their surprise, he suddenly threw his hands up in the air. “Y’all ignore my ill temper. I’m missing my Adela somethin’ fierce. We ain’t been apart since we got married a year ago.”

  Seth grinned. “That explains it then.” Sam and Adela were newlyweds. And the diner owner was head over heels in love with his longtime love.

  “When are they coming home?” Seth asked.

  “Six days, five hours and thirty-two minutes.”

  Luke shook his head and laid his money on the table. “That’s just sad, Sam. It’s just wrong to be that tied down.”

  Seth half expected Sam to fly around the counter and take Luke down before he got out of the diner but instead he wagged his head. “Poor cowpoke. He don’t have a clue what he’s sayin’.”

  “Yup,” Applegate barked. “Thar ain’t nothin’ like the love of a good woman. Ain’t that right, Stanley?”

  “Yep. Right.” Stanley never lifted his gaze from the checkerboard. He rubbed his plump chin then grinned as he reached for his checker and made his move. “Gotcha!”

  “Oh, phoo,” Applegate snapped. Standing, he snatched up his Stetson and settled it precisely on his head. “Come on, ya old coot. We got ta get to play practice.”

  Stanley beamed like a flare as he raked the checkers into a pouch then folded the board. “I’ve done whupped ya every game this week, App. You gonna concede that I’m the better player?”

  App snatched up the half-full five-pound bag of sunflower seeds and marched toward the door without saying a word.

  Stanley, on the other hand, looked like a rooster with his chest thrown out so far it was a wonder he didn’t throw out his hip. “See y’all,” he drawled and caught the swinging door as App disappeared through it. “Come on, App,” he called. “Ya gotta admit it some day. I’m the better player.”

  App’s snort could be heard even though the door had swung shut behind them. They also helped out with the lights at the barn theater on the outskirts of town. With the Fourth of July just around the bend, Seth knew the theater was planning a special production.

  “Those two are something,” he said, turning back to Sam.

  “Somethin’ else. They need themselves some new wives. Bein’ widowers all these years ain’t good fer the old snoops.”

  Seth wrapped his hands around the warm coffee cup as Sam topped it off. “Maybe Adela and her cohorts can put their talent to work and hook them up when they get home from this cruise.”

  Norma Sue, Esther Mae and Adela loved matchmaking and had even placed an ad a couple of years back that brought single women to Mule Hollow to marry the lonesome local cowboy population. The town had been on the brink of dying back then, but their efforts had totally revitalized the community of three hundred—give or take a handful.

  Sam cocked his head to the side and studied Seth. “I’m ’fraid thar might not be any hope fer them two. But you better be on the lookout when them girls get home.”

  Seth grunted and took a swig of coffee, deciding he wasn’t touching that comment with a ten foot pole.

  “So how thangs goin’ with that sweet Melody livin’ in the stagecoach house?”

  “Fine, I guess.” He’d been so focused on his own reasons for not wanting her digging into his family history that he hadn’t thought about what others would be saying.

  “What does that mean?”

  “I just saw her briefly yesterday when I got back into town. Right after I read my brother’s note filling me in on his little joke. Y’all knew she was moving in out there before I did.”

  Sam hooted with laughter. “Me and the boys kinda wondered if ole Wyatt was pulling a fast one on ya.” Bob Denton and Will Sutton came through the door and took a booth. Seth gave them a nod as Sam grabbed the coffeepot. “I’ll be right back. Don’t run off.”

  Seth nursed his coffee, surprised Sam and his buddies hadn’t started teasing him the minute he walked into the diner. He wasn’t exactly in the mood for it. Melody Chandler had the ability to change his life with that research she was doing. It wasn’t a teasing matter…

  He kept thinking about how her face lit up when she talked about searching through all the historical documents. He figured it was only natural for history teachers to get excited about history, but this was a bit over the top. It nagged at him all night.

  For nearly two years, she’d blended into the background of Mule Hollow gatherings with her quiet personality. He simply couldn’t get over how a light had seemed to flash on inside of her when she was talking about her research.

  “So, like I was saying, how’s that goin’?” Sam said, rounding the counter and settling the pot back on the burner. “I practically forgot that old camp house was a stagecoach stop at one time. It’s been a long time since anyone said anything about it.”

  “Yeah, and that’s just how I wanted it to be. A camp house,” Seth grunted. “I don’t know how Melody found out about it being out there.” His mood swung low, and he didn’t try to hide it.

  Sam grinned. “Research. Or so my Adela tells me. She started askin’ a few questions and there ya have it, the perfect opportunity fer Wyatt to waylay ya with his surprise. I remember when the three of you boys were growin’ up, y’all always pulled tricks on each other. And little Cole usually got the worst end of it.”

  “True, but this is different. I don’t know what Wyatt was thinking.”

  Sam lifted his bushy brows. “Look on the bright side, that little gal shor is purdy when her eyes light up.”

  Seth met Sam’s laughing eyes. “You noticed that?”

  “Been wonderin’ when one of you fool cowboys was gonna notice.”

  “I noticed,” Seth grumbled. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I really don’t want her out there digging through all the documentation—”

  “And why exactly is that?”

  Seth leaned in close. “You remember last year when Molly wrote that article about Bob and all those crazy women came to town stalking him?” Molly was the local newspaper reporter who had a syndicated column about life in Mule Hollow. It wasn’t every town that advertised for wives, and her column was entertaining enough that it had drawn readers from across the nation. When she’d written an article about what a great catch Bob was, all manner of wacko women had converged on the town to try and win his heart.

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sp; Sam glanced toward Bob and chuckled. “Who could forget that? It was somethin’ else.”

  “Well, that’s what I think will happen again to some degree if Melody was to turn up anything that would hint that some buried stagecoach loot was buried on my property or anywhere else around here. I don’t want that to happen.”

  Sam wiped the spotless counter with a damp rag and looked sideways at him. “I don’t know, it might be plum entertainin’.”

  Seth stood up to leave. “And that’s the problem. I’m just not up for being people’s entertainment.”

  “Then maybe you should help Melody out. You know, contain the situation.”

  The idea settled over Seth. “That’s not a bad idea.”

  “And you can have it for free.”

  Sam grinned and Seth did the same. “Thanks. See you later.”

  He walked out of the diner and was immediately confronted by the changes that had happened in his town over the last couple years. Mule Hollow’s weathered buildings had been painted. Not a nice gray or a sedate, eye-pleasing tan or brown. Oh, no. The one-and two-story buildings had been painted every color inside a gumball machine. It even had a hot-pink hair salon that stood out against the horizon like a beacon—he glanced across the street and cringed looking at Heavenly Inspirations Hair Salon. Yep, that still took some getting used to. His brothers were always telling him he was too settled in his ways…getting old before his time. What did they know?

  His town had changed, and he could deal with it because it didn’t intrude on his life on his quiet ranch.

  But Melody and her research could potentially change everything…

  His mind rolled over what he wanted to do as he drove out of town.

  Sam’s advice made sense. He could stick his head in the ground and hope nothing turned up that would alter life as he knew it. Or he could help and control what turned up.

  He glanced into his rearview mirror as Mule Hollow disappeared. There were some things in this world a man couldn’t control. And then there were those things he could.