Texas Fire

by Gerry Bartlett

  “I’m sorry, Jason. I’m betting oil will come back. Tell your daddy to hang on to that property.” Megan thought about patting his hand, but he turned, getting busy with a pile of accessories and avoiding her eyes. She glanced at Rowdy, but he was on the phone to the office. She could hear him talking about the town where they were now and his stupid schedule.

  She stepped back from the counter and hit a button on the phone. Nice loud dial tone. She punched in a number, and a familiar voice answered after just one ring. “Janie, it’s Megan. This is my new number if you need me for anything.”

  “Got it on the caller ID. How you doing out there, honey?” The Calhoun housekeeper sounded so normal and familiar, Megan was surprised to feel tears fill her eyes. She blinked them back. Janie had run the Calhoun household since before she was born. At times she’d been more of a mother to her than Missy had been.

  “I’m okay. But I miss your cooking. Will you call my sisters and brother and give them this number?”

  “Sure thing, hon. You need me to send you something? I can make up a care package. Some of my cookies or a few things from your closet if you forgot something.”

  Megan had to take a breath before she could answer. “I’d love that. But I don’t have any way to get a package. We move around.” She glanced at Rowdy. “If I figure out how to receive anything, I’ll let you know. Love you.” She heard Janie echo it along with an admonishment to take care of herself. It was all she could do not to burst into tears. Stupid. She hadn’t been gone that long, and she was already homesick?

  “Will do. Got to go. My slave driver of a boss is giving me the evil eye.” She ended the call. “Works great. Clear as if I was back home in Houston.”

  “All right, then. Let’s find someplace to eat lunch.” Rowdy had ended his call. He signed some papers and passed them to the clerk.

  “If you’re looking for good food, the café across the square features home-cooked meals, Mr. Baker, Miss Calhoun.” The clerk had decided to cooperate now that Rowdy had shaken some sense into him.

  Rowdy’s frown made Jason cringe. “I’d appreciate it if we kept her name our secret.”

  “It was on the phone order.” Jason jammed his hat on his head. “If it’s supposed to be a secret, it’s too late. News that a Calhoun was coming was too good to keep to myself. I already told my mama. She told her bridge group and”—he shrugged—“you might as well put up a billboard on the highway saying, ‘Welcome, Megan Calhoun’ after that.” He looked down at the counter. “Or maybe something not so welcoming, if you know what I mean.”

  “I know, all right.” Rowdy grabbed Megan’s elbow. “Come on. Let’s eat lunch and then go out to the site.”

  “Is it true you’re shutting down more wells? This time on the Rocking S Ranch?” Jason pretended to straighten what was left of his paperwork.

  “How do you know about that?” Rowdy turned at the door.

  “This is a small town, and what Calhoun, or CWC, whatever you call yourselves, does is big news. I ate breakfast at the café and heard you were picking up an RV over at the used car lot. Most of the wells still pumping around here are on the Rocking S. Last man through here from CWC shut down six wells on one of the other ranches. Figured this time it would have to be the Rocking S. How many are you shutting down?”

  “None of your damn business.” Rowdy gestured and Megan walked out ahead of him onto the sidewalk. “Man, I hate little towns. There are no secrets.”

  “Obviously. Are we still going to eat?” To her surprise, she really was hungry.

  “Might as well. Just don’t be surprised if we run into more attitude. I’m sure Jason isn’t the only one who doesn’t see Calhoun Petroleum as the town sweetheart it once was.” He led the way to the crosswalk. With no traffic coming, it was simple enough to walk to the café, which was doing a good business.

  “Lucky staying in the truck?” Megan was glad that there was a nice breeze blowing, but it was still a warm September day.

  “Yes, and I parked in the shade. He’ll be all right with the windows down if we don’t take too long over lunch.” Rowdy looked through the plate-glass window. “Brace yourself. It’s a full house, and they’re staring at us already.”

  Megan took a breath and inhaled what had to be chicken fried steak. “I can handle a few hard looks if that tastes as good as it smells.” She grabbed the door handle. “Let’s go.”

  Of course, every eye followed them as they settled into a red vinyl booth in the back. The waitress slapped two menus down in front of them.

  “Today’s special is chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes, cream gravy, and green beans. Homemade yeast rolls come with it.” She had a weary slump to her shoulders and recited it like she’d said it at least fifty times already that day.

  “Sounds perfect.” Megan smiled. “Sweet tea, too.”

  “I’ll have the same.” Rowdy handed her their menus. “Thanks.”

  “You got it.” She managed a smile and headed back toward the kitchen.

  “You the folks here to shut down more wells?” A burly man in overalls stopped next to the table.

  “We’re here with CWC Industries. What we do here is our business.” Rowdy got to his feet and faced the man. They were about the same height, but overalls guy outweighed Rowdy by about fifty pounds.

  Megan picked up her fork, the only weapon at hand. She slid her dull-looking butter knife toward Rowdy, but he was too busy puffing out his chest to notice.

  “No need to get your back up.” The man stuck out his hand. “Clem Eastwood. I’m mayor of Sparkle City.”

  “Rowdy Baker.” Rowdy didn’t introduce Megan as he shook hands.

  “This little gal must be Miss Calhoun. A pleasure to meet a member of the famous family. I met your daddy once.” He pulled off his John Deere cap and put it over his heart. “You have my deepest condolences, ma’am. Your daddy was a fine man.”

  Megan shocked herself by tearing up. “Thank you. Not everyone around here seems to like the Calhouns.”

  “Sour grapes. Some got big checks when all the wells were pumping. Acted like it would last forever.” He slapped his cap back on his balding head. “I knew better. Yes, I got money from it, but I invested my windfall.” His smile showed off what had to be a nice set of false teeth. They were large, startlingly white, and perfectly matched. “Anyway, I picked up plenty of good property in San Antone. Rent houses. No matter what oil does from now on, I’m sitting pretty.”

  “That was smart of you, Mr. Eastwood.” Megan dabbed at her wet cheeks with her paper napkin.

  “Call me Clem.” He looked around the café. They were certainly the center of attention. “If anyone gives you any problems while you’re here, you just give me a holler. I’ll have the sheriff out there at the well site as fast as you can say jackrabbit. You hear me?” He dropped two business cards on the table.

  “We appreciate that, Clem.” Rowdy smiled and sat down when the waitress approached with a full tray. “We don’t anticipate any trouble, but it’s good to know we have backup.”

  “There you go. Enjoy your meal.” He patted the waitress on the shoulder. “Emma, honey, you put this on my tab. And add two helpings of Polly’s banana pudding, made fresh this morning. Can’t be beat, I’m telling you.” He tipped his cap again and headed for the door.

  “That was nice.” Megan inhaled the delicious aromas coming from the plate in front of her.

  “Hot rolls in the basket with honey or butter there on the table.” Emma leaned down and stared at Megan. “You really a Calhoun?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry if the wells going down are making it hard on you.” Megan set her fork back on the table, not sure what to expect.

  Emma ran her hand over her swollen belly and Megan realized she was pregnant. “It’s not the wells’ fault I guessed wrong on a man. My own stupidity. My mama is right about that.” She sighed. “What’s a Calhoun doing out here in the middle of nowhere?”

  “I’m working. Learn
ing about oil drilling.” Megan picked up her fork again. “I’m a little late to the party, but I have to figure things out or we could lose everything.”

  “Hmm. Guess even rich folks have problems.” She nodded. “Don’t let that food get cold.”

  Megan dug into her mashed potatoes. “This looks good.”

  “It is. My mama is the best cook in the county. Good luck with your job.” The waitress gave Rowdy a serious once-over. “And be careful. I learned the hard way that a girl’s got to watch out for herself. You know what I mean? ’Cause sure as shooting, no one else will.” She grabbed a tea pitcher and moved on to give refills to a table full of men.

  Rowdy leaned forward. “You think she spit in my mashed potatoes?”

  Megan choked on the bite she’d taken. When she could finally speak, she shook her head. “I hope not. Because this is the most delicious thing I’ve tasted in my life. Take a chance, Rowdy.” She grinned, then cut into her steak. Heaven on a fork.

  * * *

  A big meal should be followed by a nap. Of course, Rowdy didn’t think that way. Instead he ordered her to dig out her work boots and change shoes before they headed for the well site. He drove over a bumpy road that ended where there were at least a dozen oil wells in a muddy field, all of them still pumping. And they were going to have to shut some of them down? It made Megan sad. Her daddy would have said they were leaving money in the ground. Had Conrad Calhoun seen this coming? Had he had any idea that the oil boom would go bust? She was almost glad he hadn’t lived to see all his hard work going to waste.

  She missed her daddy so damn much. Every time she saw the Calhoun logo on a truck or building, she felt a sharp pain near her heart. Her family had to save Calhoun Petroleum. She’d told that waitress she was here to learn. She hoped to God she could. First she’d have to overcome Rowdy’s hostility and get him to teach her what she needed to know in plain English—in simple terms that a girl who had flunked out of the University of Texas, twice, could understand. So far he’d acted like she was a burden he was required to drag from one end of the state to the other. She had to change his attitude. Prove to him she was going to take this seriously, and then . . .

  Well, hell. As they drove into the well site, she saw the man she’d hoped to avoid once they arrived here. He waved at her, a smile on his face. Was there anyone in Sparkle City who hadn’t heard that Megan Calhoun had arrived?

  “That’s King Sanders.” She nudged Rowdy across the console. “He owns the Rocking S ranch.”

  “You know him?” Rowdy kept driving, the truck and RV kicking up a cloud of dust that blew over the two men standing in front of the rigs.

  “Unfortunately. Oh, he’s nice enough. He was best man at a friend’s wedding. I was maid of honor. We were thrown together a lot until . . . Let’s just say it didn’t end well.” She tried to shove what had happened to the back burner of her brain while Rowdy parked the RV behind the office trailer for the well site. While he was maneuvering the vehicles, she kept her mouth shut.

  “What went wrong?” Rowdy put the truck in PARK and looked at her.

  “I had a crush on the groom, got drunk, and made a fool of myself, hanging onto King and trying to make Eli jealous.” She forced a laugh. “Clearly I wasn’t thinking. As if Eli would notice me with King, during his own wedding.” Megan wasn’t about to admit that the next morning she’d woken up in King’s bed. King had taken her act seriously, convinced they could be a couple. She’d just wanted to run far and fast. Oh God, but that had been a low point in her life. She couldn’t bear to look at Rowdy and what would surely be disgust in his eyes. Finally she made herself face him. No, he was thinking about the business implications, of course. His eyes were on the precious oil rigs.

  “Relax. If he’s a successful businessman, then Sanders is here for one reason. He’ll try to talk us into keeping his wells going. It’s money in the bank for him.” Rowdy nodded and focused on her. “You used him? Now he’ll use you if he can. We can’t let him do that, Megan. Don’t let him get to you. This is our job. We have orders. Personal feelings can’t sway us, and your being a Calhoun shouldn’t be a factor.”

  “Got it. That’s the line I’ll take. If he tries that.” Megan grabbed the door handle. Really? Would King want payback? She owed him for stringing him along, but the company didn’t. If that was his game, she’d set him straight, in a hurry. “I have orders. No control when it comes to the rigs.” But then she saw King grinning at her from the other side of the door. He pulled it open before she could hit a lock or even prepare a speech.

  “Megan, sugar, what are you doing here?” King grabbed her around the waist, swung her out of the truck, then spun her around. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” Then he did the unthinkable—he kissed her, catching her mouth open when she started to tell him to put her down before she knocked him into next week.

  Chapter Six

  Rowdy watched King Sanders paw Megan and realized he was going to have to do something or this workday was going to be a total waste. Before he could speak, Megan pushed Sanders back.

  “King, is this your land?” She smiled like she was happy to see him. Must have been a hell of a kiss.

  “Sure is. I made a deal with your daddy to let him drill here. Now there’s all this talk about shutting down.” He gestured toward the field. “I’m telling you, that’s not going to happen.”

  “You know the oil business is struggling, King.” Megan kept her distance.

  “Not my problem.” The good old boy with his cowboy hat in his hands showed a hint of steel. “But that’s what I have lawyers for.” He settled the hat back where it belonged and made a smooth move, capturing Megan with his arm around her. “Beats me why you’re here, Megan. This is no place for a little gal like you.”

  Rowdy waited for the explosion. “Little gal”? Sure, Megan Calhoun was small, but he didn’t think she’d like that description.

  Megan pushed away from King again and lost her smile. “King, you’d better buckle up, because I’m here to work. I’m surprised the gossip hasn’t reached you. I have to learn the business in the oil fields if I want to inherit my piece of Daddy’s fortune. It was spelled out in his will.”

  “Well, that’s a damn shame. What was your daddy thinking?” He wasn’t getting the message and reached for her again. She put out a straight arm that stopped him.

  “That I could handle shutting down half your wells. So, you’d better take me seriously.” She waved Rowdy over. “King Sanders, Rowdy Baker. Rowdy is the engineer who’s my boss for the next year. I’m working for him. Learning about how we drill oil, kind of from the ground up, you might say.”

  Rowdy put out his hand and the rancher shook it. “Sorry about this, Sanders. But we’re going to be taking out three rigs here and another half dozen on your western field.”

  “That’s ridiculous. I’ve got a contract that says not only do my wells keep pumping, but Calhoun owes me even more than have been drilled here so far.” Sanders frowned. “Honey, we need to talk. Where are you planning to stay? Surely not in that rusty tin can.” He glared at the trailer. “Why, it wouldn’t hold your shoe collection.”

  “I didn’t bring my shoe collection, King. Unfortunately.” Megan rolled her eyes. “And I’m staying there because that was all your little town had to offer.”

  “Sugar! No way will I let you suffer like that. Come home with me.” King poured on the charm.

  “I’m not your ‘sugar’. And if you think you can talk me into keeping your wells going, King, forget it. I’m taking orders from Rowdy, and we’re both getting them from the head office.” Megan turned her back on the tin can. Clearly she didn’t want to stay there any more than Rowdy did. He had to admire her for resisting the offer.

  “That office is run by your family. At least it was, last I heard. And they’ll be getting an earful from me about this plan to shut down wells, you can be sure of that.” Sanders wasn’t going to take no for an answer. “But, like I sai
d, let the lawyers handle it.” He walked over and pulled open the trailer door. “While you wait for more orders, it’s clear you can’t stay here. Why, it’s filthy and hot as hell.” He strolled back to them and waited.

  “Look, King. We know it’s horrible, but that’s part of the job, staying near the site. Isn’t it, Rowdy?” Megan looked resigned.

  “I usually stay near the well sites. But it’s going to be tight in the RV we’re stuck with now.” Rowdy shrugged. Letting Megan stay with the rancher might not be such a bad idea. The only problem would be transportation every day. He glanced at the truck, where Lucky was going crazy in the backseat.

  King noticed. “Whose dog is that?”

  “Mine. A rescue named Lucky.” Megan walked over and opened the door so she could grab Lucky’s leash and let him out of the truck.

  Rowdy watched her butt twitch under the soft material of her yoga pants. Not exactly work clothes. And they looked foolish with the heavy boots he’d made her put on in town. She no more looked like she belonged on a well site than feathers on a cow. Lucky was barking when she let him down and Rowdy smiled, pretty sure the dog would attack the rancher. Instead, King knelt down and made friends with the mutt, who was soon licking his hand.

  “Now, isn’t he a cute thing? You rescued him? I always knew there was a kind heart in there, Megan Calhoun.” King stood and winked at her. “Now, show me some of that kindness and agree to stay with me. I’ll put you up in an extra bedroom and even loan you a truck so you can drive back and forth over here. Or is that against the rules, boss man?” He turned to Rowdy, as if daring him to make Megan suffer in the hot tin can.

  Rowdy glanced at the trailer. Even he didn’t want to sleep there. “That’s up to her. But Megan does need to be here most of the time. On call.”

  “How long does it take to get here from your house, King?” Megan bit her lip, apparently ready to take one for the team. A room in what was probably a luxurious ranch house or stuck here in tin can hell?

  “About twenty minutes, give or take.” King smiled when Rowdy stayed silent. “Now, look at that. Your ‘boss’ is going to being reasonable. He didn’t say no, did he?” Sanders glanced at his watch. “I don’t know about you, but it seems silly to start a workday in the middle of the afternoon. Why don’t we head on to the house? I’ll fix us something cool to drink, and we can catch up on old times.” He slapped Rowdy on the back. “What say, boss man? Isn’t tomorrow morning soon enough to get this little gal into the trenches?”