Lone Star Hero

by Jennie Jones

  “I don’t know anything,” Davie said. “But I’ve lived around these women for thirty years, and I can tell you I know when something’s cooking, and believe me—something’s on the stove, and it’s hot.”

  Saul looked over his shoulder and down the corridor to the takeout, then back to Davie. “Sure you don’t want a hand in Surrender?”

  Davie laughed, shook his head, and exited the salon, leaving Saul to it.

  Saul poured another cup of water and downed it, his throat suddenly dry. How come everybody around here except me can read minds?

  Marie came back into the salon and handed Saul his cake. “Was that Davie?”

  Saul nodded. “On his way to Surrender. Bar fight.”

  “Only thing that ever happens in Surrender.”

  Saul sat on a swivel stool and scooped his first forkful of sponge cake. “He says there’s some gossip going around about Molly—and her various appetites.”

  Marie dragged another stool to the counter, and sat. “I’m glad you brought that up.”

  “Your daughter is safe with me, Marie. I haven’t done anything.” Although he still wanted to. But what he wanted more, was to make sure Marie didn’t think he’d use her daughter, or hurt her.

  “Oh, hush.” She swished the air with her hand. “I trust you.”

  “Thank you. I like her, Marie, but I don’t go around hurting women or using them.”

  “Not like her ex-fiancé did.”

  She had an ex-fiancé? “Oh?” He shouldn’t want to know, but he wanted to know anyway.

  “Well,” Marie said, rolling her stool closer, “he cheated on her with the new office girl.”

  The cake fork clattered onto the china plate. How could any man want to cheat on Molly? How could any man take his eyes off Molly and all her valuable assets long enough to cheat on her?

  “Jason Birling,” Marie said. “He’s a motel magnate.”

  “Stirling Birling Motels?” They were dumps. He’d stayed at one two years ago—he took a breath, and looked away. No. Impossible. Which Stirling Birling Motel had this Jason taken her to the day she lost her daypack? The day Saul had checked out of one. They could not have been in the same motel at the same time. Not possible.

  “He made her work for him and made her pay all his bills.”

  “Made her?” Saul couldn’t see anyone making Molly do anything she didn’t want to do.

  “Under coercion, of course. Told her a few sob stories about his business. So she worked her little ass off—”

  And it was such a cute little ass.

  “Doing his books, taking photos for his business brochures while also trying to keep her own photography career on the rise, and all that time he was... you know.”

  Banging the new girl.

  Saul put his plate down, his appetite for cake gone. “This is why she came home.”

  “And we’re all glad. Because we missed her cute little ass—”

  Saul glanced at her. Do not tell me she can read my mind.

  “She’s the one who can help our valley out of its calamities,” Momma said.

  “Marie, are you all so sure that one photographic business is going to generate enough to keep three towns going?”

  Marie looked at him down her nose. “What do you think we are, Saul Solomon? Crazy?”

  “I’ve heard a rumor...”

  “Molly’s business is the beginning we need,” Marie continued, either not having heard him or deciding to ignore him, “and it’s taking all my baby’s efforts to get us to the starting line.”

  “She also loves this town, and the valley.” It was in her eyes, and he figured what was in her eyes was also in her heart.

  “And now the developers are using her good name,” Marie said. “They’re saying she’s greedy and now they’ve come up with this sex nonsense.”

  “Does she know?”

  Marie shook her head. “Not about the sex issue. Not yet. I’m hoping to keep it a secret from her.”

  “Where did they get it from in the first place?”

  “They took something which suddenly came to them, and made it all up from that one, innocent discovery.”

  Molly didn’t deserve this kind of bullshit. “The people here love her.” He didn’t know that for sure, how could he? But he guessed he was right. “They won’t believe this.”

  “No. But those outside the valley might. So now, my poor baby is father-less, fiancé-less and doing it hard all on her own.”

  All the Mackillop women were, weren’t they?

  “I’m going to turn it all around so it works for our benefit,” Marie said.

  Marie might have been stuck in the valley all her life, but he knew a shark when he saw one. He smiled at her. She was one hell of a good-looking and loving shark. “I like your style, Marie.” He didn’t ask what was expected of him in the assistance department, because he didn’t want to know. Chances were, he’d be giving assistance whether he wanted to or not. So why bother asking for the necessities? Best to head them off until he’d been backed into a Mackillop corner. You should have run in the first place.

  “I’m going to call a valley meeting here in town,” Marie said. “I hope you’ll come along.”

  Here we go. First request for assistance he didn’t want to give. “I’m kind of busy with the roof.”

  “We could do with a decent male perspective.”

  “You’ve got Davie.”

  “But he can’t be the sole man-figure in our lives. You wouldn’t believe the nonsensical ideas some of our older men come up with. They don’t live in the times, Saul. They don’t understand what it takes to really stand up and fight.”

  But they had Marie. Saul didn’t imagine they had much to worry about.

  “Like my baby’s had to do,” Marie said, her voice taking on a dramatically pained tone. “Like my baby’s still doing. All on her own.”

  “She’s not alone. She has you, Davie, Alice—she’s got the best people around her. Couldn’t think of any other person she needs.”

  “A woman always needs a male perspective,” Marie said. “If only to counteract her more feminine, natural, reserved instincts.”

  Saul had trouble keeping the smile off his face as a picture of Molly giving him the finger came to mind.

  “But don’t let on that I told you any of this, honey. She’s very touchy about these matters.”

  “I won’t say a word.” He didn’t want to have a conversation with Molly about any of it. That would draw him in further to the intrigues of the fatherless, fiancé-less Mackillop woman he was already way too attracted to. Although now he’d been told about the jerk she’d been about to swap matrimonial vows with, he did feel somewhat pissed off on her behalf.

  “You’re a good man, Saul Solomon. I feel it—here.” Marie slapped a ring-laden hand against her heart. “Every woman needs a hand now and again. But Molly thinks she can’t unload her troubles on you in case you’re one of those men who don’t like needy women.”

  “I don’t see Molly as the needy type.” You want to hear about Sally-Opal?

  “Or the dependent type.”

  “Can’t say I see her as that type, either.”

  “So what type is she?”

  His type.

  He stood, turning away from Marie. That had come from nowhere. “Best be going.”

  “Drive safely. I’ll send this cake home with Molly.”

  Home? He didn’t have a home.

  He got into the pickup, fired it, and made his way down the main street. He waved at Mrs. Wynkoop, who waved back, then stood staring. Maybe she’d heard about the sex deviant and thought Saul was the instigator. Damn, he hoped not. He had enough on his plate with a furious not-ex girlfriend who was slapping a fifty grand paternity suit on him for his non participation in her probably fake pregnancy.

  Molly was down the end of the street, walking back from Jack Upholstery.

  She walked in such a cute way. Her head held high, arms swingi
ng, stride purposeful, with a bounce in it. Sexy cute.

  At this point, a lot of guys in his predicament would get themselves to Lubbock and pay some reliable firm to drive the pickup back while they hit the airport and bought a ticket out of the state.

  But he wasn’t most guys, and that was his problem. He’d been too trusting in his past. Too convinced that what was great would always remain great. Five days in Hopeless and he was being too caring, although for some reason, he wasn’t sure he could stop.

  He slowed the pickup and leaned out the open window when he came up to Molly. “No roof walking while I’m gone,” he called.

  She smiled sweetly and batted her long, long eyelashes.

  “I’ve hidden the ladder.”

  She pulled a frown and gave him a finger.

  His grin made his face ache. He threw her a wave that included his own middle finger, then took his focus off all her cute, sexy goodness. She’d had tough times and she’d come home to face perhaps the toughest. If he could address the previous wrongs in his life, the way Molly was putting the errors she’d made in her past to bed, it would be to help her get that damned roof up and in place before he left.

  It wasn’t as if he was needed elsewhere.

  He drove past the You Are Now Leaving the Happy Hamlet of Hopeless sign. What was he doing here in Hopeless? Maybe it was time he went to visit Alice after all.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Mr. Jack’s going to make colored canvas bunting for the town and cover the main street with them.” Molly flung herself into the hair-chair, then pulled the plate of cake sitting on the counter toward her. “It’s a great idea. He says it’ll help make us look prosperous and happy.”

  Momma hadn’t looked up from her pink laptop.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Just something I’m working on, honey.”

  Molly leaned forward. “Is it legal? Give me a look.”

  Momma put her hand on the laptop lid. “Never cross a small-town news reporter.”

  “A what?” Molly grabbed the laptop and slid it to face her.

  The Hopeless Herald edition #2

  Society News

  Mrs. Fairmont from Surrender said Elvis Presley once thought about visiting.

  ~

  “Jane Fonda tried to buy my house.” Mrs. Walnut of Reckless.

  ~

  George Clooney was spotted passing the valley turnoff in 2002. He slowed his car and glanced at the Calamity signpost. Sadly, he then met a lot of beautiful women and hasn’t been seen since.

  “Momma, you’re making this up.”

  “Not me, honey. I’m just the reporter. These stories came from the residents.”

  “Well, they’re making them up,” Molly muttered. “What is this, anyway?” She returned the laptop to her mother.

  “I can’t start a newspaper without advance media and promotional PR so I’ve started with a newsletter—and it’s going down a treat! Edition one broke all my expectations.”

  “So it’s online?”

  “Available everywhere. Including worldwide. I think I might need a blog. www.Momma’sHopelessBlog.com. What do you think?”

  “You’ll stun the world.” At least it would keep Momma out of trouble.

  Molly returned to the cake, then frowned at it. “Was this Saul’s? How come he didn’t eat it?”

  “Said he was watching his physique. Said he puts on weight just by looking at a piece of cake.”

  That didn’t sound right. He ate enough for two men and four women. He’d devoured the cake she’d taken home the other day. He ate half of it in one sitting.

  “It’s stress eating,” Momma said. “He’s stressed.”

  “About what?” Molly peered at her mother who was now bent over her little pink laptop again. “What did you and Saul talk about?”

  “That man is to die for.”

  “What did you talk about?”

  “I think he’s a little desperate.”

  Desperate? Maybe for more cake—so why didn’t he eat this plateful? “What did he say to make you think that?”

  “He needs to feel needed. He has a hatful of emotions inside him and no one to share them with.”

  “He told you that?”

  “He likes you. He thinks you’ve got a cute little ass.”

  Molly shifted in the hair-chair. “He said that?”

  “Something like that.”

  Molly pulled the laptop out of Momma’s hands and slammed the lid closed. “What are you up to?” she demanded. “What did you tell Saul about me? That’s what you’ve done, isn’t it? How much did you tell him?”

  Momma held up both hands. “I may have mentioned the greed rumor and I may have mentioned you were all on your lonesome after the motel magnate dumped you.”

  “He cheated on me. I dumped him!” Molly said, standing as outrage electrified the tip of every nerve in her body. “Why did you tell Saul all this?”

  “He forced me to, honey. He said he’d guessed you’d been hurt.”

  “Rubbish. You told him, all on your lonesome. What have else have you done?”

  Winnie rushed in from the takeout, wringing her hands. “Have you told her? Oh, Molly. Molly...”

  Momma stood. “I was about to tell her.”

  “Tell me what?”

  “Honey. Take a deep breath.”

  Molly inhaled and held her breath.

  “The developers are saying your intentions for renovating the hacienda are based on greed and...”

  “Sexual appetite,” Winnie said.

  Molly’s jaw dropped. “That’s ridiculous! Where did they get this stupid notion?”

  Momma shrugged, eyes wide. Too wide.

  “What have you done?” Molly asked.

  “Oh, typical. I get the blame.”

  “What. Have. You. Done. Momma?”

  Momma took a breath. “I may have taken another few photos out of the shared folder, and I may have put one or two of those naked-chest images of your gorgeous builder in the Hopeless Herald newsletter number one—”

  Molly fell back a step. “No!”

  “And the developers may have seen them after I sent them a copy of the newsletter.”

  “No!”

  “Yes,” Winnie said, nodding. “She sent it to Bob Smith.”

  “Bob Smith? Does he even exist?”

  “Well he’s got an email address. Davie thinks he might be the ideas man,” Momma supplied.

  “Bob Smith?” Molly said again, astounded. They’d never met him and there was no corporate photo of him up on Donaldson’s website. “The ideas man? I thought D’Pee was in charge.”

  “Him and Slick might be the underdogs,” Winnie said.

  “I hate this Bob Smith!” Molly exclaimed. “He’s ruined my life. And it’s all your fault, Momma.”

  “I didn’t expect the Herald to go viral so quickly,” Momma said, spreading her hands, as though exasperated with her daughter’s unwillingness to understand.

  “Why did you send a newsletter to the developers in the first place?”

  “To show them how well we’re doing without them,” Winnie said. “And you look so good together, you and your builder. It’s a shame you’re not right for him.”

  “Me and him together?” Molly said. “There aren’t any photos of me and him together.”

  “Your momma did the photo dupe thing.”

  “Photoshop,” Momma corrected.

  “What?” Molly gasped. “Show me!”

  “Take another breath, honey. I’m going to fix this.”

  Molly grabbed the laptop, hit the folder titled Hopeless Herald and opened newsletter first edition.

  Saul was smiling, about to use his T-shirt to wipe his brow. All his glorious abdominal muscles were on show in high resolution on page one. The sky was perfect blue above him, the light around the courtyard just idyllic, and right beside him, with a smile and a kind of wonder in her eyes, was Molly, looking directly at his perfect abs
as she reached for them.

  “I do not believe you have done this!” She recognized the photo of herself.

  Momma had taken it four weeks ago when Molly made the decision to start the business. She’d been so happy with herself as she reached out to straighten the iron centerpiece in the fountain.

  “Now don’t get your ponytail in a knot, baby. This is all very innocent looking.”

  “Except that you sent the developers your newsletter—and now I’m a sexual freak!”

  “Oh, but look at him, Molly. What woman under ninety would blame you? I bet I’ll get a heap more clients next week. I’m already fully booked until Wednesday. Any chance you can be extra sweet and get Saul into town in the next few days, and maybe ask him to take his shirt off?”

  “No!”

  Molly spun away. What was she going to do now? “I’m supposed to be keeping him hidden, remember? You told me to keep him out of sight because of the greed rumors, and not involve him in our town problems.”

  “You have to change your plan but not the goal, Molly.”

  Goal? She no longer had a goal except to murder her mother. “Does he know about this?” she asked, pointing at the laptop. “Does he know about my appetite?”

  “I’m affronted, baby. I did not tell him about your sex problem.”

  Molly put her face in her hands. She’d come home to forget about being so naïve over the last two years while pandering to the thing, but she’d also seen an opportunity to create her own world. That was why she’d moved into the hacienda. As soon as she’d seen it, after a long six year absence, she’d known it was her focus. Her true place in the world. Now the photo Momma had used made it look like she was looking at Saul Solomon’s naked torso in a sexually predatory manner. When it had just been the fountain!

  “This is all the fault of the great-grandfathers!” she pronounced, dropping her hands.

  “Don’t go there, baby.”

  The hacienda was her home now. She was going to turn it into the most spectacular photography studio Texas had ever seen. She was. She would. Just watch her. If she was smart enough, she might end the curse she didn’t believe in before it started. “And I am smart, goddamn it.”