Small Town Romance Collection: Four Complete Romances & A New Novella

by Brown, Carolyn

  Cassie clamped a hand over his mouth.

  "Don't say marriage, Ted. That's the rule."

  Chapter Nine

  Ted watched Cassie leave for work with Brock on a fine spring morning near the middle of March, and then he clunked up the stairs to the company's offices over the garage to catch up on the paperwork of his father's business. He pulled open a metal folding chair to prop his casted leg on and spread out a sheaf of government forms on his huge oak desk.

  The phone rang.

  "Hello. Wellman's," he answered automatically as he thumbed through the new government regulations.

  "This here Theodore Wellman?" a strange voice asked.

  "Sure is," Ted answered.

  "This is Cecil Gorman," the voice said.

  Ted damn near dropped the papers. A call from Cassie's cousin was something he hadn't anticipated. "Yes?" he said coldly. "What can I do for you?"

  "It's not what you can do for me, it's what I might do for you," Cecil said cryptically. "Give me directions to your office and we'll talk."

  "About what?" Ted's voice got even colder.

  "As if you didn't know," Cecil sneered. "About Cassie. You don't want me to go to the sheriff's office and get him over there, do you? He'll put Cassie in my truck and she'll be on her way back to San Antone with me faster'n you can say boo."

  Ted reluctantly gave him directions and hung up to call his Uncle Ash.

  Ten minutes later, Cecil arrived. Ash led him through the living room and up the stairs to the office.

  "I only wanted to talk to you, Wellman," Cecil grumbled as he walked across the oak hardwood floor. "Who's this guy?"

  Ted looked at him levelly.

  Cecil Gorman was a weasel of a man. Not only physically, but in the way his eyes shifted from one part of the room to the other. Ted realized that his visitor was probably sizing up the place and dollar signs were probably ringing up in his avaricious little mind. He wore faded jeans and a faded plaid shirt with cigarette burns just above the pocket on the left side. His teeth were permanently stained from chewing tobacco and there was enough grease in his hair to fry a buzzard. He smelled like he'd walked through some cow pasture somewhere and right up to the business end of a skunk, too.

  "Mr. Gorman, this is my Uncle Ash. I've asked him to be present for our conversation. What is it you want to talk about?"

  "Cassie." There was an unpleasant look on the little man's face when he said her name.

  "Just remember—you're talking about my wife," Ted said warningly.

  "I'll get to that," Cecil said. "But hear my story first. My wife 'n' me took her in out of the kindness of our hearts when Granny Stewart died so sudden. We give her a nice room and a decent place to live in exchange for a few chores. And what does she do? Steal from me and run away," he whined.

  "What are you getting at?" Ted asked, a lot less patiently.

  "I want Cassie to come home." That was a lie, but these two didn't have to know it. Cecil studied Ted's reaction. This boy actually might care for the redheaded baggage. Well, if he wanted Cecil to leave her alone, that was something that could be negotiated. Certainly looked like the Wellman family could afford a little negotiation, unless he missed his guess.

  "Why?" Ted asked sharply, never taking his eyes from Cecil's unshaven face.

  "My wife is sickly, and we need Cassie's help. We gave her a place to live when the state would 've put her in a foster home. But she got lazy and didn't want to work none. The way I was raised, a body had to work to eat, you know. Cassie stole some jewelry and run off, and then the next thing I know the Gainesville sheriff told me you married her. Now just how did you two meet?"

  Ted ignored the question, and tried to get Cecil to come to the point.

  "Maybe you didn't hear me, Mr. Gorman, what exactly is it you want?

  "Like I said, I want the girl." Cecil thrust his stubbly chin up and looked down his nose at Ted.

  "Let's talk about her later. You said she stole some stuff. What did she take?"

  "My dear, departed aunt's wedding rings, was part of what my grandmother left to me." The awful whine was back.

  "How much are they worth?" Ash asked.

  "Who knows? She pawned them in San Antone and the pawnshop owner has to keep them for six months before they can be sold. But them rings is still stolen and the law can come down on her for that." He didn't look at the boy.

  "Cassie told me they were her mother's rings," Ted said.

  "Well, yes. They were," Cecil said reluctantly.

  "We seem to be going in circles here. If we could get back to what you want—" Ash said.

  "I told you already. I want Cassie back," Cecil said peevishly.

  "And if she doesn't want to go?" Ash asked. Whether they liked it or not, this weasel was Cassie's legal guardian, and they had to play for time.

  "Don't matter a damn what she wants. She's my kin and I'm takin' her. I didn't give my consent for you to marry her, boy," he said angrily to Ted.

  Cecil was losing his patience, and these two seemed unable to understand what he was getting at. "I can have your so-called marriage annulled, you know. She's still underage. You just go tell her to get her things together and meet me by my truck. Or else I'm going straight to the sheriff." Cecil jutted out his chin and chanced a look at the young man behind the desk.

  "How much?" Ted asked bluntly.

  "How much what? Do you mean money?" Cecil laid his grimy hand across his heart and did his best to look offended. "Are you tryin' to buy me off? I figured you'd be tired of her sass by now and glad to get rid of her. You can't actuallly be tellin' me you'd pay me to leave her here."

  Ash and Ted exchanged a glance. Now that Cecil had finally gotten around to his real purpose in coming here, maybe they could get rid of him. The sooner, the better, as far as Ted was concerned.

  "Now why would I pay you for that?" Ted inquired. "She's not a thing to be bought and sold. Slavery was abolished a few years back, in case you hadn't heard."

  "What are you talking about—" Cecil almost got to his feet but Ash pushed him back down into his chair. Ted's voice was less sharp when he spoke again.

  "I just want to know how much the rings are worth. I'll pay you back for them. I wouldn't want the whole town to know that I married a common thief. If you go to the sheriff—well, you know how talk gets around in a little town. So let's take care of that problem first. Then we can discuss Cassie. If you need her to come back with you to help your sick wife, then I won't stand in your way."

  "Wait a minute." Cecil sounded dismayed. He wasn't going to come away from here with the fat wad of bills he'd expected. Some people might call what he was doing blackmail, but he couldn't call it that if the Wellmans were going to be so cooperative. He hadn't expected them to see things his way. In fact, he'd expected them to want to keep Cassie.

  Cecil began again, more slowly, so that there would be no misunderstanding.

  "My wife ain't that sick, Mr. Wellman—"

  Ted held up a hand to silence him.

  "Even so. I think we can help each other out. Now that I know all this about Cassie, I can see that she's going to be trouble with a capital 'T'. She'll probably steal my mother's jewelry next. Hell's bells, why don't you just take her back?"

  "Hey—" Cecil tried to get a word in edgewise.

  Ted pretended he didn't hear him, and rattled on. "And good luck trying to raise that little hellcat. I've done everything in my power to tame her, but I can't. Yet, Mr. Gorman, you can just tell me what those rings are worth and we'll write you a check right now and you can take Miss Uppity Britches back to Texas."

  "Wait. If you two been to bed together, there'll have to be a real divorce." Cecil's bravado was gone and his whine was back again. "But I did hear at the Maysville coffee shop you're not really married to her anyway. You're just saying that so she can hide out here. Is that true, boy?" Cecil narrowed his beady little eyes at Ted. "Are you aidin' and abettin' a teenage runaway? That'll cost you
extra."

  Ted fought the sudden urge to kick the desk over and skin the man alive, then tack his sorry hide to the smokehouse door. But he forced a polite smile.

  "Unfortunately, we really are married. But don't let that stop you. Ash can tell you where she works and you can bring her back to Texas in five minutes. Just tell me what you think those rings are worth."

  It was time to get rid of Cecil once and for all, and Ted couldn't wait. Cassie hadn't exaggerated any when she'd told Ted that her cousin Cecil was the lowest, nastiest excuse for a human being on the planet.

  "You mean you'd divorce her?" Cecil asked, astonished. Ted had called his bluff.

  "Uncle Ash has had the papers drawn up for weeks." Ted nodded towards his uncle.

  "I don't believe you," Cecil said flatly.

  "Why would I bluff? I had a feeling that she was just using me. She probably wanted to get away from you."

  "Hey, I treated her good. I want you to know that. She never wanted for food or anything else—"

  "How much?" Ted took a leatherbound checkbook out of the desk drawer and opened it.

  "For the rings?" Cecil was dimly aware that these two had gotten the best of him somehow. He couldn't figure out how to retrench, although he'd thought he had this all figured out before he'd driven up to Oklahoma. He'd some interesting plans for the profit he'd expected, too.

  He considered Ted's question. These Wellman men looked big and strong, even if one of them had a broken leg at the moment. Granny Stewart had always told Cecil that he was greedy, but not crazy, and he'd considered those words to live by.

  He'd never had any intention of taking Cassie back. Legally, he would have no claim to her at all in a few months anyway, and if he went to the sheriff here . . . well, Cassie might have a few stories to tell about him.

  Ash noticed Cecil's agitation, and decided it was time to bait the hook. He pulled his billfold from his pocket and removed five twenties. "I'll give you a hundred dollars, Mr. Gorman," he said smoothly.

  Cecil didn't need to act offended. He had expected a whole lot more. "My dear, departed aunt's rings was worth a helluva lot more than that!" he said indignantly.

  "Five hundred?" Ted picked up a pen.

  That sounded a little better. Cecil rolled his eyes heavenward as if asking forgiveness for what he was about to do. "A thousand?" Might as well up the ante, he thought, even though he knew it was an outrageous sum.

  "Five hundred and you take Cassie." Ted made out the check and handed it over.

  "Hey! No deal! I don't want her!"

  "Can we get that in writing?" Ash winked at Ted.

  "I'm a little confused here, Mr. Gorman," Ted said. "Do you want Cassie back or not?"

  "Hell, no. Do I look stupid?"

  Ted bit back a yes.

  "You'll have to sign a receipt saying that you've been paid the full value of those rings. Cassie owes you nothing now."

  Cecil gave him a surly look.

  "That good-for-nothin' girl should be paying me back. Not you."

  He accepted the proffered check grudgingly.

  "What's to keep you from stoppin' payment on this when I leave?" he asked suspiciously.

  It took every ounce of willpower in Ted's young body to stay in his chair and not beat the man to death with his crutch.

  "As I said, if you accept this check, then Cassie owes you nothing. And my uncle and I both heard you say that you don't want her back. Right?"

  "Ye-es," Cecil said slowly, looking from the younger Wellman to the older. He extended a grimy hand to shake on the deal, but Ted nearly broke his knuckles when he shook it.

  * * *

  Cassie burst through the front door about half an hour later, looking as frightened as a wild doe. She ran smack into Ash, who was just leaving, and almost knocked him down.

  "Whoa! Hello, Cassie! Slow down—"

  "Oh, Ash," she gasped. "I just saw my cousin's truck in town—Brock gave me a ride home—is Cecil here?"

  Ash patted her on the shoulder.

  "He was. But we talked him into leaving," Ash said. He wasn't about to steal Ted's thunder. "Go upstairs and Ted will tell you all about it."

  "Is he in the office?" she asked.

  Ash nodded and she took the stairs two at a time.

  Cassie burst in the door.

  "Ted?"

  He was standing by the window where he'd watched her run into the house.

  "I guess you know that Cecil was here. Ash and I got rid of him pretty quick. I doubt that he'll come back."

  "What did he want?"

  Ted shrugged.

  "He didn't want you back, Cassie. He made that clear."

  "I was so scared . . ." Cassie crossed the room, put her arms around Ted's neck, and drew his mouth down to hers for a heartfelt kiss.

  Ted felt pretty good. In fact, he felt great. He had protected her, just as he told her he would. And now Cecil Gorman was gone . . . forever. He could tell Cassie the details later—just as soon as he got done kissing her back.

  Chapter Ten

  A few weeks later, Ted's orthopedist pronounced him healed and sawed off the casts. His leg and arm looked pasty white and his skin was peeling where the casts had covered it. Ted got up before the nurse gave him the okay, and he nearly fell.

  "It'll be a few days before you walk easily," the orthopedist said. He tested Ted's range of motion and found it acceptable, but gave Ted the name of a physical therapist who could help him strengthen the weakened muscles.

  Damn and double damn, Ted thought. The whole time he'd been clomping around in this cast, he'd been dreaming of taking Cassie dancing. Right now he couldn't two-step any faster than an armadillo could fly.

  Assisted by the nurse, Ted limped out to the waiting room to pay the final bill, glad the stupid casts were off at last and that he didn't have to dream up ingenious new ways to scratch inside them. He was plagued by the eerie sensation that his healed limbs belonged to somebody else—particularly when he signed the insurance form. His arm and leg just didn't seem to be quite there somehow.

  His dad put down the oil trade paper he'd been skimming and rose to help him, but Ted shrugged him off and made it to the parking lot with no help from anything but his late granddaddy's cane.

  He climbed in awkwardly, and figured he'd have at least another week or two of limping to look forward to. He had planned to get around to cleaning out the room he had shared with his brother for fourteen years. The one that been kept locked, by unspoken agreement. The one that was a vault for the photos of him and his brother that he hadn't wanted to look at, ever again.

  Ted had promised himself in the hospital that he would open up that room. But until he could climb stairs—well, it would have to wait. He could amuse himself by making Cassie happy. If she'd let him.

  He stared out the window at the passing countryside while his father drove in silence. One thing about the Wellman men—they usually knew when to leave people alone.

  Not that sassy Miss Cassie would agree with that, he thought, and smiled just a little. But then she'd been looking more irresistible than ever. And she'd been pretty nice to him since he'd been banged around and broken and turned upside down. Guess she preferred him a little . . . tenderized. If that was the right word.

  Another week went by before Ted could manage the stairs at all, and he still had to take his sweet time. One fine day, he decided to go up to the room and get it over with, although no one was home to help him. It was probably just as well.

  Momma was out shopping with Maggie for the baby his sister Liz was expecting any day now, and Cassie was . . . somewhere. Probably at work, but she hadn't been there when he'd called, just to say hi and hear her voice. Lord, he was getting attached to her . . . and he was starting not to mind if she knew it. Cassie would just tell him rudely not to breathe down her neck all the time, if he broke too many of her rules. Oh, hell, he thought. She was making them up as she went along anyway.

  Ted started up the seemingly
insurmountable stairs. He'd once taken two at a time without even thinking. But this particular journey, back to his past could only be taken one step at a time. He put his foot on the first tread and pulled himself up. He felt for the worn old key in his pocket.

  From the day Ted had carried his lifeless brother through the kitchen door he had carried a key in his pocket. It was worn, although not from use, because he never used it to open the door of the room that had been his room, too—until the accident. The key was worn because Ted used it like a worrying stone, toying with it when he struggled through something in his mind, until years of rubbing had made it smooth.

  For the first time in seven years he used the key to open the door. He looked first at the cardboard boxes set on the beds—boxes full of pictures of him and John.

  Two twin beds were separated by a night stand holding a dusty lamp shaped like a football. Newspaper articles about calves they'd shown at the county fair, football games they'd played in junior high, and their favorite pin-up of a movie star from ten years ago, were all still thumbtacked to a huge bulletin board on the other side of the room. A tall chest of drawers and a double dresser sat against another wall.

  He looked again at the two cardboard boxes of pictures. Pictures of the twins when they had first walked, when they played T-ball, when Bob first let them drive the tractor . . . fourteen years of happy life in two cardboard boxes.

  Ted picked up the last photo taken of him and John. The blinds of the room were still drawn, and it was difficult to make out the faces in the faded photopgraph.

  He studied it for a moment and put the picture back in the box. It was time to set all of these back where they belonged . . . in the other rooms of the house, where the family lived. He hadn't been able to face these memories for years and his parents hadn't wanted to, either. He looked at the dust on his fingertips and rubbed it off on his jeans. So much dust. . . the dust of the past. It lay thick on every surface in this room.

  Ted picked up a baseball bat and took a short swing at an imaginary ball. He set the bat on the bed that had been John's. Last time he'd been in this room his brother had still been very much alive. He wondered what John would have thought of Cassie.