Smokin' Hot Cowboy Christmas

by Kim Redford

  “That’s really not good news,” Hedy said. “If they’ve taken her under their wing, they won’t take kindly to us getting her out of the county.”

  “But why would they do it?” Morning Glory asked. “They don’t know her. How’d they even hear about her?”

  “The Buick Brigade knows everything and everybody.” Slade nodded at the group. “They’re up to something…and you never know how something they’ve instigated will turn out.”

  “That’s the truth,” Hedy agreed.

  “I’d better let my family know about it,” Slade said. “Granny knows them best of all of us, but she’s got no sway with them. Nobody does.”

  “True,” Morning Glory agreed. “They’re a law unto themselves.”

  “But what could they want with Belle? That’s the question,” Hedy said.

  “I don’t know.” Rowdy shrugged his shoulders. “I’m just reporting that they came to call, but not on me.”

  “Okay,” Hedy said. “This adds a new wrinkle to the entire situation.”

  “It surely does.” Morning Glory clutched her necklaces. “Bert Two, you’d better—”

  “Rowdy.”

  “Yeah,” Morning Glory said. “You’d better report anything that goes on between the Buick Brigade and Belle Tarleton.”

  “I doubt I’ll know much more than you do.”

  “You’re on the spot,” Hedy said. “If Belle hasn’t returned that plate, figure out a way to go with her to deliver it to Ada in her home. You might learn something useful.”

  “If I’m even allowed into Ada’s house,” Rowdy said.

  “There’s always that.” Morning Glory nodded. “Give it your best shot and report back to us.”

  “One thing for sure,” Hedy said. “This Christmas is shaping up to be one to remember.”

  “Like last year?” Slade asked. “We worried about Fernando making it safely home. This year, Daisy Sue is out there somewhere, and we’re waiting for her to get home by Christmas.”

  “Maybe the Buick Brigade knows something about Daisy Sue,” Bert said.

  “Could be.” Morning Glory reached out to Mac and squeezed his hand. “You didn’t know there’d be so much going on in the county when you moved here, did you?”

  Mac chuckled. “At least there’s never a dull moment.”

  “Never that,” Morning Glory said.

  “I guess the bottom line here is for Rowdy to keep slowing Belle’s project, keep an eye on the Buick Brigade, and get a lead on Daisy Sue.” Hedy made more notes.

  “And we’ll get on with Christmas plans for Wildcat Bluff County,” Morning Glory said.

  “Could we change jobs?” Rowdy rubbed his jaw in frustration. “I’m not sure I’m up to Belle, the Brigade, and Daisy Sue. It’s just too many females all together…and that can only spell trouble.”

  Chapter 11

  “Bikini!” Belle laughed at the fun idea as she added it to her growing list. “101 Uses for a Bandana” was definitely picking up steam.

  She typed the word into her laptop and then picked up her coffee mug where she’d set it on top of a turquoise metal table she’d found in the garage. It’d been dusty and dirty, looking more fifties than eighties, and left behind by the original owners. She’d cleaned it off, along with four matching folding chairs, and brought the set out to the back of the house where she wanted Rowdy to build her a stone patio. She liked the whimsical touch to her new home.

  Could she make “101 Uses…” a theme for her Christmas party? It’d be different as well as ranch-related. Traditional red and green colors would work in this setting. Red bandanas would be easy to get, and green ones, too. She could even create a scavenger hunt around the idea. Yes, she liked where she was going with this party. She could even tie it to her summer line that utilized bandana designs in the fabric. It was a good way to achieve optimum product placement along with introducing Lulabelle & You Ranch.

  She gave a satisfied sigh. Everything was coming right along…except for the house. Rowdy was working long hours, but he didn’t appear to be accomplishing that much. Even so, she’d made a donation to Wildcat Bluff Fire-Rescue because the department deserved the support no matter how little or how much happened at her ranch. He’d assured her there was a lot of prep work to do first, so she was waiting to see more finished product. She liked the color she’d chosen for the trim since at least he was getting some paint up on the house.

  She checked her list again. She drummed her fingertips on the tabletop. She looked up at the blue sky. She needed something a little different that wasn’t wearable. She thought a bit more. And then she got it. Wall hanging. That’d work. She typed it down, feeling really good about the day.

  She glanced back at the sky for inspiration. A bird caught her attention because it appeared to be heading straight toward her. She expected it to veer away and land in a treetop or on an eave of the barn, but it kept coming and coming…as if she were the bullseye on a landing pad.

  As the bird grew closer, she could see it was a pretty pigeon with bright feathers gleaming in the sunlight. She liked birds, particularly pretty birds in town like sparrows, pigeons, and grackles. Yet she hadn’t expected to see a pigeon flying alone on her ranch.

  She watched the bird in fascination as it changed course and flew in a circle above her house and then came lower and lower and lower. Finally, it gracefully floated down, made a perfect landing in the center of her table, and folded back its long wings until the feathers made a smooth finish from the dark gray head to iridescent green neck to plump gray breast.

  She felt rooted to the spot, not wanting to move for fear of spooking the beautiful bird. And yet…a pigeon on her table?

  It took a few steps toward her, long claws clicking against the tabletop. It stopped, turned its head, looked at her with one round, bright eye before it turned its head and looked at her with the other eye, as if to confirm she was really who she was supposed to be.

  “Nice to meet you,” she said because it seemed like they needed an introduction. “I’m Belle Tarleton. And you are?”

  The pigeon bobbed its head before putting a pink, clawed foot forward.

  That’s when she saw the small capsule attached to a tight band on the bird’s skinny lower left leg. “Homing pigeon?”

  The bird held its position, as if patiently waiting for her.

  She glanced around, trying to see if someone was playing a joke and watching her. Nope…nobody but her and the bird here. Surely folks didn’t send messages by pigeon anymore. Did they? She knew they were used in World War II for communications, and nowadays racing pigeon clubs sent birds cross-country. Could the pigeon be lost?

  Maybe it was the Christmas season or maybe it was simply Wildcat Bluff County, but there was something magical going on around here. For a fact, normally birds didn’t just land on your table. Neither did four wise women arrive on your doorstep with cookies and omens. And how did one bull named Fernando and the love of his life become media sensations?

  She just shook her head. With all the mojo in this place affecting everything and everyone, her products ought to fly off the shelves during the holidays, and her party should be one for the century. At least she hoped a bit of the magic fairy dust sprinkled down on her…or maybe all she needed to do was reach out and claim it for her own.

  She leaned forward and slowly held out her hand. The pigeon remained still and calm as if used to being near people. She reached for the capsule and felt the warm softness of breast feathers as she slowly, carefully slid a small, rolled piece of paper out of the capsule.

  “Thank you.” She smiled at the bird in appreciation.

  The pigeon gave a soft, fluttery coo and then launched into the air, flew several circles overhead, landed on the roof of the red barn, and disappeared from sight under an eave. Well, she hadn’t expected that, but she hadn’
t expected a bird in the first place, so it kind of fit with the entire scenario.

  Curious, she unrolled the piece of paper, stretched it out flat on top of the table, and held it open with a fingertip on each end. She read the first line out loud, “Pigeon-Gram.” Well, that was to the point…and oh so curious.

  She glanced around again, but everything appeared normal, even if more homing pigeons might be on the wing. She turned her attention back to the handwritten note and read aloud again, “Saturday night next requires your presence at Wildcat Hall with escort Rowdy. And Homer is home.”

  “Homer?” She glanced toward the barn. Did the note mean the pigeon’s name was Homer? Okay, maybe. But who could have sent her the message? And why?

  She was struck by a sudden memory. Doris, of the four wise women, had said, “We’ve decided that you, Belle Tarleton, are going to single-handedly change Rowdy’s luck from bad to good.”

  She remembered the Buick Brigade’s other words. “You’ll be receiving little messages from us. And if you faithfully follow each one, Rowdy and the entire county will celebrate you as the star atop everyone’s Christmas tree.”

  Belle didn’t want to be anyone’s star. She just wanted to throw the best Christmas party ever. But it looked like this could well be the start of the Buick Brigade’s Rowdy campaign…and they were involving her whether she wanted it or not. She could ignore the message. She could refuse to go along with any of their plans. She could easily be too busy. Yet she wanted to be accepted by the community, so causing trouble with the wise women wouldn’t be helpful in that regard. But even more important, she realized that she’d like to see Rowdy’s bad luck turn good.

  Saturday night at Wildcat Hall. She supposed there’d be food and drink and music and dance. She hadn’t been out in the county for fun. In fact, she hadn’t been much of anywhere for fun in a long time. And it sounded like a date. She hadn’t been out with a guy in a long time. She really didn’t do either…not anymore. Business was one thing. Fun was quite another.

  It probably wasn’t a good idea to even consider going along with the Buick Brigade’s plan. She really didn’t have time. She really, really wasn’t ready to reach out to the community. And she really, really, really didn’t want to get involved with a guy. All in all, this situation wasn’t optimal.

  She crumpled up the small note. And immediately felt guilty. Had she become so hard-hearted while completely focused on her business? She hadn’t thought so, since she helped others through Lulabelle & You and that was part of the reason she was here. And yet when confronted with an in-your-face situation, she didn’t want to go there. She wanted to stay safely behind her work and away from emotional entanglements. What did that say about her?

  She straightened out the message, pressed the strip of paper against the tabletop, and tapped it with her fingertip. She supposed she could meet Rowdy at Wildcat Hall so as to avoid any possibility of it being considered a date. There’d be loud music, so not much of an opportunity to chat with local folks at the honky-tonk. And she wouldn’t stay long. All in all, she could help Rowdy and the Buick Brigade without getting too involved in their lives.

  Of course, if she went along with it, she’d need to show Rowdy the note and make plans with him. How would he react? No way to know. Dealing with another person could be unpredictable when she liked everything to be predictable. He might not like the entire situation. He might want to back out of working with her to avoid trouble. He might… What if he liked the idea? That gave her a chill. Maybe the safest thing would be not to tell him about the note. Maybe the best thing would be to forget about it. Maybe she simply needed to get back to work on her newsletter…and not second-guess what she was doing in Wildcat Bluff County.

  As she looked at the message, considering her options, her phone alerted her to an incoming call. She checked the screen. Kemp Lander.

  “Kemp, please tell me you have good news,” she answered, feeling a little breathless with excitement.

  “You wouldn’t believe what I’ve been through to find one cow,” Kemp said in a bit of a growl.

  “I regret to hear it’s been so much trouble, but—”

  “Trouble? You don’t know the half of it.” He coughed. “I never could get Lester on the phone. He wasn’t at the last ranch where he’d been working as a cowboy. Finally, I bit the bullet and went to his mom’s ranch—that’d be my Aunt Dotty. Boy howdy, is she a talker…makes good pie, though.”

  “But what about—”

  “You got to hear my sad story because I’m doing it all for you.”

  “Go ahead.” She tried to relax in her chair, knowing she wasn’t going to get out of this conversation easily. She had to let him say his piece, tell his story, in the way that cowboys were wont to do.

  “First off, she had to bake me that pie. Apple, if you’re interested. While it baked, she had to show me the latest family photos and tell me the latest news and try to get me married to some gal down the road. We’re talking three hours and I’m getting nowhere fast.”

  “But was your cousin there?”

  “No. Did I forget to mention it? He’d left to go rodeo.”

  “What about Daisy Sue?”

  “Second off, Aunt Dotty didn’t know about the cow, but she figured Daisy Sue might be on the ranch somewhere, if Lester had put her in with the herds.”

  “Oh my…”

  “Right. Third off, I was burning daylight riding around on an old bag of bones that was slower than molasses.”

  “And?”

  “Fourth off, I had to spend the night because I didn’t get through all the pastures. And that meant Aunt Dotty had to go and drag out all the old family albums, and with those came all the old stories about total strangers. About that time a big glass of dry Texas whiskey would have gone down easy…but she’s a teetotaler. At least I got some good coffee the next morning along with eggs, bacon, and biscuits. She can sure cook.”

  “What about Daisy Sue?”

  “I’m coming to that. You’re only having to hear the story. I had to live it.”

  Belle didn’t say another word. He was right. It sounded like his aunt was a lonely woman who enjoyed his company, but he was on a mission and time was short, so he’d been impatient.

  “After I tromped across another field or two, I gave up.”

  “Daisy Sue wasn’t there.”

  “No. But I’ve got Lester’s phone now.”

  “You can call him?”

  “No.” Kemp gave a loud sigh. “Right before he left, he dropped his own cell in a cow patty—of all things—and it was mighty fresh, so it totaled the phone. Aunt Dotty bought a new one online and had it sent to her, and now I’m supposed to give it to my cousin as soon as I find him.”

  “But how can you reach him?”

  “Oh yeah, he’s got a burner phone, and I’ve got the number…but so far he’s not answering it, not for his mom or me.”

  “And this is what…your favorite cousin?” She tried to keep from laughing despite everything because this was just the sort of trouble that Texans so liked to tell on themselves.

  “I told you before. He’s that cousin. Everybody’s got at least one of them, so you know what I mean.”

  She finally did laugh. “I think I’ve been that cousin a time or two.”

  “You and me both.” He chuckled, too.

  “So where does this leave us?”

  “Bottom line, Lester dropped his phone—wouldn’t you just know—while he was roping a cow to take to auction to pay for rodeo.”

  “Not Daisy Sue, surely?”

  “I hope not. He couldn’t be that—”

  “Remember, he’s that cousin.”

  “Yeah. I’m going to the auction house next, but it’s a bit of a drive, so give me time to see what I can see. I doubt I’ll get there before it closes for the day.” />
  “Okay. I’ll keep my fingers crossed.”

  “Toes, too. Bye.”

  She clicked off and sat there, shaking her head. Daisy Sue was still in the wind. If she’d been sold, Kemp could trace her to a ranch and retrieve her, no matter the price.

  In the meantime, she might as well get back to the business at hand. At least she’d had an update from Kemp. Bandanas. Maybe a red one could be tied around Daisy Sue’s tail as a cow fashion statement.

  Chapter 12

  As she sat at the table, she heard Rowdy’s rust bucket of a pickup sputter to a stop out front. He was home. No, she meant he’d come back to work after going to some sort of county meeting in town to make plans for the upcoming holidays. He didn’t seem the type to go to meetings, but she’d already learned that they took Christmas festivities very seriously around here.

  She heard his footsteps before she saw him rounding the corner of the house. He looked good, just like he always did in his boots, jeans, shirt, and hat. None of it was stylish or the way she thought of clothing styles, but it was all quality, if a little worn and faded around the edges. Clothes might not make the man, but they surely sent a message about his life.

  She quickly slipped the pigeon-gram under her laptop, not sure if she’d show it to him or not.

  “What’s up?” He strode toward her with his usual self-confidence that radiated outward from his body like a sunray.

  She felt her own body respond, as if relaxing in the warmth of a sun-drenched afternoon. He did have an effect on her that made her want more…more of his attention, more of his smile, more of the heat they generated between them. And yet she was more used to being practical.

  “Getting some work done?”

  “Yes.” She motioned to a chair across the table from her. “I heard from Kemp.”

  “Great. Did he find Daisy Sue?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Why not?”

  “He’s still trying to track down his cousin.”

  Rowdy shook his head. “Not good.”

  “No…but Kemp is trying hard, so I’m giving him plenty of rope to run with.”