The Curse of February Fourteenth

by Liz Isaacson

  The Curse of February Fourteenth

  Three Rivers Ranch Romance, Book 11

  Liz Isaacson

  AEJ Creative Works

  Contents

  Scripture

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

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  Sneak Peek! Craving the Cowboy Chapter One

  Read more by Liz Isaacson

  About Liz

  Scripture

  “Lead me in thy truth, and teach me: for thou art the God of my salvation; on thee do I wait all the day."

  ~Psalms 25:5

  Chapter One

  Cal Hodgkins dusted his palms together as he left the stables at Bowman’s Breeds, located out at Three Rivers Ranch. He took a moment to enjoy the dusky light and perfect temperatures at this time of year. October was definitely the best month to be outside in Texas.

  “You goin’ to the dance tonight?” Garth Ahlstrom paused as he walked past, fully turning when Cal didn’t answer right away. “There’s dancing,” the foreman of the ranch continued, a playful twinge in his tone. “Cookies. Costumes. Girls.” A full-fledged smile galloped across his face with the last word.

  Cal gave him an obligatory smile. He liked dancing, that was for sure. And cookies. He could do without the costumes, though he’d sent his six-year-old daughter a yellow princess dress so she could be appropriately dressed for her first grade Halloween party. Her mother and his ex-wife had sent pictures from the festivities earlier that day.

  “Maybe,” Cal said, thinking of his quiet cabin and the grilled cheese sandwich he could enjoy with a documentary about professional wrestling he’d found last weekend but hadn’t had time to watch yet.

  Garth, another silver-haired man like Cal, ducked his hat and continued on his way. Done with the horse care for the day, Cal strolled toward his cabin, his mind already wandering through the fields at the ranch he loved so much.

  “You goin’ to the dance?” Sawyer asked.

  “Maybe,” Cal told the cowhand.

  Step, step, step.

  “You goin’ to the dance?” Beau asked.

  “Maybe,” Cal told his next-door neighbor.

  He’d just reached his steps when Bennett stuck his head out of the barn doors. “A bunch of us are fixin’ to go to the dance at seven-thirty.” He grinned at Cal like they were old pals. Sure, Cal liked hanging out with the boys, but that was exactly the problem.

  They were boys, none of them over thirty.

  He was the only one who’d been married, the only one with a child who came to the ranch every other weekend, the only one who lived in a cowboy cabin alone.

  “You’re welcome to come.” Bennett stepped out of the barn fully and leaned against the side of it.

  “I don’t—”

  “Come on,” Bennett said. “You can’t stay cooped up here all weekend. It’s Halloween.” He said it like Halloween was some great holiday, not to be missed.

  Cal couldn’t say he didn’t fit with the other boys, wasn’t interested in women, even though at thirty-nine-years-old he didn’t fit and he wasn’t interested in finding another mother for Sabrina.

  But a companion for himself…. He sighed. “Seven-thirty?”

  Bennett whooped and crossed the gravel path between the barns and the cabins. “You’ll have fun, Cal.”

  “What are you dressing up as?”

  “Cowboys.” Bennett grinned and practically skipped back into the barn.

  Cal couldn’t help chuckling, and he had to admit that his heart took a bit of courage at not having to spend the evening alone. He usually liked being alone, but it had been a difficult week of work, dealing with a couple of pregnant horses on the ranch and then an accident at Brynn’s that left two of her champion trainees hobbling around.

  He hurried into his cabin and showered, putting on his best cowboy clothes, the ones he normally wore to church each Sunday. He got his grilled cheese and he managed to squeeze in a few minutes of that documentary before he headed through the barns to the parking lot. He didn’t have to look far to find the boys heading into town.

  The truck looked full already, with four men piled in the back. Their laughter rang through the clear air and almost made Cal turn around and go on home.

  But Bennett had seen him, and he waved and said, “C’mon, Cal. We’re gonna be late.”

  “It’s seven-twenty-five,” Cal said as he appraised the options for seating.

  “Saved you a spot in the cab.” Bennett grinned at him and leaned closer. “Had to convince Sawyer that the old man needed it.” He laughed as he danced away from Cal’s disdainful look. “Get in, Cal.”

  Cal got in. The forty-five minute drive into Three Rivers was filled with chatter between Bennett and his cabin mate, Beau. All the boys at the ranch called them B&B, because they never seemed to go anywhere without the other. As if their similarities weren’t already enough, they were dating a set of sisters in town, who of course, would be at the dance tonight.

  Cal listened to them talk about how they’d recognize the girls, as they were very excited about the prospect of a masked ball.

  That got Cal’s attention. “Masks?”

  “All the women are wearing masks,” Bennett said. “I just know I’m gonna fail at picking out Ruby.”

  “So I’m not even going to know who I’m dancing with?” Cal shifted on the seat.

  “Nope.”

  Cal looked out the window, running through his options. He could go get ice cream at the shop down the street, wander the town until Bennett called and said it was time to go. He could—

  “You’re going,” Bennett said. “I can practically see what you’re thinkin’.”

  “What if I have to dance with Margaret?” Cal asked, not wanting to be rude, but, well, he simply couldn’t do that again. Not that he’d ever danced with her, because the very idea sent a shudder through his muscles.

  “Oh, Margaret,” B&B said at the same time. They exchanged a glance, which didn’t lift Cal’s spirits at all.

  “You guys gotta keep her away from me,” Cal said.

  “We’ve gotta—” Beau started at the same time Bennett said, “Sure, boss. Double wing men, at your service.” He turned toward the downtown park, where the summer dances and other town festivals were always held. With three blocks still to go, the vehicles started thickening along the curbs.

  Bennett pulled over into the next spot he saw and everyone piled out of the truck. Seven cowboys made quite the scene as they made their way to the party in full swing in the park. Cal automatically hung back while the other boys forged on, almost infected by the vibe in the country music staining the air.

  Cal had fallen back three paces before Bennett turned to find him. “C’mon, boss,” he called, and Cal wished he wouldn’t call him “boss.” He wasn’t anyone’s boss; it was just something Bennett called every man older than him.

  Cal didn’t come on. Something shook him inside. Probably all the bodies on the dance floor that had been laid over the grass. Or the dozens of people who wore masks. Any of them could be Margaret.

  He lifted a red plastic cup of punch to his lips and drank the sugary-sweet liquid. Maybe he could just hang out here until he was sure Margaret wasn’t here.

  “C’mon.” Bennett shouldered him, and Cal tried to twist away, only to find his second wingman there to block him. Together, B&B practic
ally shoved him away from the refreshment tables.

  “She’s the one,” Bennett said under his breath and pointed to a tall, lithe woman wearing a tight pair of black jeans, a tank top in the same shade, and a brilliant pair of orange monarch butterfly wings.

  Her sun-kissed skin shone like the moon among all the black she wore—including a mask in the shape of butterfly’s wings.

  She definitely wasn’t Margaret, and Cal found himself voluntarily walking toward her. He glanced right, expecting to see Bennett there to give him some advice, but Cal was very much on his own.

  The butterfly wore a pair of black cowgirl boots with pale blue stitching in the shape of wings. She seemed hardly able to walk in the boots, but she continued toward him as if they were tethered together by some unknown line.

  “Hey,” Cal said when they were a few paces apart.

  She didn’t speak, but simply stared at him with blue-gray eyes behind the black mask.

  A ballad came over the speakers. “You wanna dance?” Cal’s voice seemed stuck in his throat, but sound managed to cross the space between them.

  She nodded, and Cal extended his hand toward her. Her fingers were long, her skin tanned, her muscles defined. She stood only a few inches shorter than him, and she touched him with the grace and power of an athlete.

  He wondered who she was, and when she’d come to town, as he’d never seen her before. And he liked to think he would’ve remembered. Of course, he didn’t get to town much, other than church and the occasional grocery store run, but still. Talk of this woman would’ve made it through the cowboys in a matter of days.

  Cal put one hand on her waist and she put one hand on his shoulders. They swayed, and Cal cursed himself for his slow tongue. But Butterfly didn’t seem to have any problem with his lack of conversation, and she made no attempt to make small talk.

  “Are you new in town?” he finally asked.

  “Yes,” she said. He could barely hear her, and he wanted to categorize the sound of her voice.

  “What brings you to Three Rivers?”

  “Not much.” She lifted one sexy shoulder in a shrug.

  Cal swallowed, wishing for that punch. He glanced around, trying to find a familiar face and being met with only blurred features and garish masks.

  Butterfly stumbled in her too-big boots, and Cal steadied her. He tipped his head down, the brim of his hat nearly touching her forehead. Her wings bobbled, and a chuckle covered the awkwardness between them.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Just fine.” She strengthened her grip on his shoulder, and he didn’t mind that one little bit. “What’s your name?” she asked.

  “Cal Hodgkins.”

  A quick smile passed her lips but it didn’t even get close to her eyes. He watched her, sensing something turbulent had brought her to Three Rivers. He understood the feeling, the pull the town had to wounded souls. He’d come to Three Rivers after his divorce four years ago, thinking he’d just stay for the night, thinking he was just passing through.

  Then he’d met Heidi Ackerman in her bakery, and the woman had found out he was a veterinarian, and that was that. Cal didn’t know that at the time, but he could see it now. Could see God’s hand in leading Cal to that bakery, on that day, at that time. Heidi was Squire’s mother, and Squire owned the ranch that had given Cal a purpose in his life. In many ways, that quick stop at the bakery for breakfast had saved Cal’s life.

  The song ended, and Butterfly stepped out of his arms. Cal’s hands fell to his sides, lifeless. A sense of complete emptiness filled him, for no reason he could understand.

  She ducked her head and a lock of dark hair fell across her mask. She pushed it back and shot him the first smile he’d seen from her.

  Her eye caught something over his shoulder and all happiness left her features. “I have to go,” she said.

  “Wait. What’s your name?” Cal called after her, but the butterfly spun and hurried away. She stumbled, almost tripped, and continued. She reached the edge of the dance floor, the edge of the crowd. If she left the area, the darkness would swallow her in those dark clothes.

  Cal hurried after her. “Wait,” he tried again.

  She glanced over her shoulder, and that was her undoing. She stepped onto the grass and down she went. Hard, too.

  Cal shot forward, ready to help her up, help her back into his arms, where he wanted her to stay until he could get her name and phone number. But she was more agile than he’d given her credit for.

  She leapt to her feet and took off into the darkness, leaving behind one black cowboy boot.

  Cal reached the spot where she’d fallen, and he searched the darkness for a glimmer of her wings. “Wait,” he said softly, to himself, before bending to pick up the winged cowgirl boot.

  Chapter Two

  Katrina couldn’t believe she’d gone to this small-town party. She’d known it was a mistake, but her costume was a simple affair her roommate had on-hand as her “back-up costume.” A pair of wings. A mask. A set of too-big cowgirl boots, both of which she really needed for her new job out at Bowman’s Breeds the following week. Now she’d have to buy another pair.

  “It’s just money,” she muttered to herself. If there was one thing Trina had, it was money. But she’d learned that money didn’t buy happiness, or love, or privacy, something the Beatles had never sung about. And privacy was extremely important to Trina Salisbury.

  But, oh, how that cowboy had called to her. Tall, and broad, with silver hair peeking out from underneath his black cowboy hat. She’d been drawn to him as if she were the south end of a magnet and he the north.

  She ducked behind a thick tree trunk and reached down to remove the other boot. A sigh slipped through her lips. Libby would be so disappointed. She’d shopped for two hours for those boots. At least the wings and mask were still in place. Trina wished she could wear the mask all day, everyday. At least until the story of her breakup and subsequent disappearance got buried by something more interesting on the sports news channels.

  An image of Carlos’s face flashed through her mind, and Trina straightened. No one here knew about their messy, now broken relationship. It was why the Texas panhandle was perfect for someone like her. The people here liked cowboys, and horses, and football. Tennis wasn’t anywhere near their radar, and no one had recognized her in the three days since she’d arrived in town.

  Her appointment at the salon the following day would further ensure she remained a nameless, unremarkable addition to this town.

  Please help me blend in here, she thought, wondering where the mental energy went. No matter where, she managed to slip under the cover of darkness and back to her apartment around the corner from the bank without running into anyone else.

  Libby didn’t return home for hours, by which time Trina had carefully hung the monarch wings and changed out of her tight black clothing. She pretended to be asleep, even when her giggly, auburn-haired roommate whispered, “Trina? Are you really asleep?”

  No, she wasn’t really asleep. She’d slept little since the public break-up, her nerves always on standby, her mind always revolving around whether the cashier at the gas station in a town she didn’t even know the name of might be looking at her curiously.

  She woke the following morning, so she knew she’d fallen asleep at some point. But she didn’t feel refreshed or ready to face the day. It had been a long time since she didn’t know exactly what every minute of every day would look like, smell like, feel like. A long time since she’d had this level of white-hot anxiety running through her, and it wasn’t because she was up against the number one player in the world.

  No, this sick feeling in her stomach—this sick feeling that never went away—was because she was trying to be something she wasn’t. And she’d never done that before. When she was ranked number nineteen in the world, she played like it. She trained and fought and ran down every ball until she was in the top ten women in the world.

  And then she
played like them. All the way to number one—where she wanted to end her career.

  But Carlos—

  “Hey, you’re up.” Libby beamed at her as she secured her hair into a ponytail. “I’m going hiking with this dreamy man I met last night. You want to come?”

  “No,” Trina said automatically. No way she was getting in between Libby and this dreamy guy.

  “Did you even stay for one dance last night?” Libby sat on her bed opposite of Trina.

  “Yes.” A smile ghosted across her face at the mere thought of Cal Hodgkins. “One dance.”

  Libby shook her head, a low giggle coming out of her throat. “I guess that’s what you promised.”

  “I texted you when I got home too,” she said.

  Libby patted her knee like this big bad Texan world would eat Trina right up if it weren’t for her. “Yes, you did. Thank you for that.” She bounced to her feet. “Well, I don’t want to keep Levi waiting!” She grabbed her purse and slipped on some very not-hiking shoes before turning back. “You’ll have to tell me all about your ‘one dance’ when I get back.”

  “Sure, yeah,” Trina agreed just to get Libby to go. It was exactly that kind of conversation that had Trina faking sleep and wondering when Libby would return so Trina could make sure she wasn’t there.

  Libby waved and skipped out the front door, leaving Trina with her misery and a gush of guilt flowing through her. She shouldn’t be so annoyed that Libby wanted to talk. She’d given Trina the room sight-unseen. The fact that Trina had said, “I’ll pay for six months up front,” had probably helped.

  Apologize later, she told herself as she went to get ready for her hair appointment.