Catch Me a Cowboy (29 page)

“So I thought you weren’t due back from Lubbock for another couple days,” Beau said as he lifted the lounge chair out of the pool.

“I decided to come back early.” Billy fished his hat from the water and placed it on his head before swimming over to the steps and sitting down on the edge of the pool to pull off his boots. He scowled at the soaked leather of his Lucchese custom boots. Or maybe it wasn’t the soaked leather that had him so upset as much as the
reason behind his quick return from business meetings in Lubbock. A green-eyed, redheaded reason that had him as jittery as a cat with a firecracker attached to its tail.

“So I guess the meetings didn’t go all that well?” Beau asked as he retrieved his hat.

Billy stood and stripped down to his jockeys. “Plains Gas isn’t any more solvent than Dalton Oil, so it was a waste of time.”

Tugging his hat back on, Beau climbed out of the pool. “So how’s Aunt Milly?”

“As crazy as ever.” Billy stretched out on a lounge chair to dry off. “She now thinks that William’s ghost visits her every night. And that house of hers has more crap in it than Brant’s.”

“Our brother does like to collect things, doesn’t he?” Beau stretched out on the lounge chair next to Billy. “He’s been bugging me to check out antique shops in the area—he’s especially interested in any civil war weapons.”

Shirlene’s Colt Peacemaker popped into Billy’s head, but he kept his mouth shut. As much as it bothered him to keep a secret from his brothers, he wasn’t about to throw more fuel on Brant’s fire. Especially when it already burned out of control.

Of course, Brant wasn’t the only Cates brother burning out of control. Billy had no more than closed his eyes when images of Shirlene, all naked and willing, rippled through his mind like the wind on the water of the swimming pool. Then suddenly she was there, lounging on the chaise next to him in nothing but a teeny-weeny bikini and miles of soft skin and supple cleavage. He was so caught up in his fantasy that he jumped when Beau spoke.

“You like her, don’t you?”

It was weird how brothers could get in your brain without you even giving them permission. Billy didn’t know if it had to do with genes or growing up together, but it wasn’t the first time that a brother had read his mind, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. But he wasn’t about to let Beau know that.

“Who are we talking about?”

Beau shot him an exasperated look. “I’m not an idiot, Billy. If your reaction to the painting wasn’t enough, then your reaction at Bootlegger’s was.”

“I just didn’t like the thought of a woman driving drunk.” Billy tugged his hat lower.

Beau handed him a beer from the cooler. “Well, I’m glad to hear it’s nothing more than common courtesy, big brother. Because I’d sure hate to see that gold digger get her hooks into you.”

Billy wasn’t sure how it happened. One second he was lounging back about ready to take a sip of beer, and the next he was in Beau’s face. “Don’t fuckin’ talk about her like that.” He shook the bottle of beer at his brother until foam came out of the top. “She’s not like that.”

An idiotic grin split Beau’s face as he nonchalantly relaxed back on the lounger. “That’s what I thought.”

The grin, coupled with his brother’s words, annoyed the hell out of Billy. But what annoyed him the most was his reaction, especially since he had been the first one to call Shirlene a gold digger. Talk about being out of control; Billy had really lost it.

He released his breath and sat back. “Look, I’m sorry. I guess I didn’t get enough sleep last night.”

The smug grin got even bigger, but Beau didn’t say a word. He just sat there drinking and smiling until both
their beers were gone and their skin had started to turn pink.

“So what do you think she’ll do when she finds out?” Beau asked as he handed Billy another beer.

It was the same question that had been rolling around in Billy’s head for most of the night. Twisting off the top, he downed half of the beer before he answered. “I figure she’ll hate me—along with Slate and the rest of Bramble.”

Beau nodded as he stared out at the land surrounding the estate. “It kind of grows on you, doesn’t it? It’s not as green as Dogwood, but there’s something about the barren wildness that pulls at a person. If you stare at it long enough, you can almost see a dusty cowboy riding the range, or a group of outlaws running from the law.” Beau glanced over at Billy and grinned. “Or an east Texas redneck driving his monster pickup.”

Billy reached out and tapped the brim of Beau’s hat. “You’ve been out here alone for too long, little brother. You’re starting to sound as crazy as Aunt Milly.”

Beau’s smile dropped. “You can’t stop Brant, Billy. Ever since he lost Amanda and BJ, revenge eats at him.”

“And you think I don’t know that, Beau? I was there when he found them, remember? I witnessed the carnage and his pain so I understand his need for revenge. Hell, I wanted revenge, too. But these people aren’t responsible for the things that have happened to our family—and I’m starting to wonder if anyone is. Maybe the Cates Curse was just something our crazy forefathers thought up to explain acts of God.”

“Maybe.” Beau’s piercing blue eyes stared back at him. “But that doesn’t change the fact that Dalton Oil is going under or that Shirlene Dalton will blame you.”

“A
S
I
TOLD YOU BEFORE
, Kyle, we ain’t had any runaways in Bramble since Floyd Miller’s cows got loose,” Sheriff Winslow said into the cell phone. “But if you’re dead set on sendin’ someone on a wild goose chase, you go right ahead.” After he hung up the phone, he didn’t waste any time returning to the conversation he’d been having with Rachel Dean. “So Beauregard Williams is now Beauregard Cates?”

“That’s what Ruby Lee told me.” Rachel Dean poured Harley more coffee. “I guess she overheard Mr. Peabody talkin’ on the phone.” She placed a hand on her hip and shook her head. “Now there’s a strange one. I ask you, what kind of man don’t eat red meat? No wonder Mr. Peabody looks like one of them el-bean-os.”

Harley nodded. “A man’s got to have meat.” His eyes narrowed. “Well, that’s sure enlightenin’ news about Beau. I never did think the man was a criminal. ’Course he doesn’t look old enough to be runnin’ Dalton Oil either.”

“According to Ruby, he don’t run it,” Rachel said. “His
brothers do. I guess he’s got three. One’s even got himself a helly-copter.”

“She did it again,” Cindy Lynn fumed. “Shirlene has gone and found herself another sugar daddy.”

“Well, I can sure understand it.” Rachel set the coffee pot down. “Beau’s smile makes a woman melt like lard on a slab of oven-fresh bread. After goin’ without sex for a good nine months, Shirlene didn’t stand a chance.” She stared out the window for a few seconds. “’Course for livin’ with the man, she sure don’t seem to like his company all that much. Every time I see her, she’s with those Foster kids and Bubba.”

“Well, maybe Beau is only good at one thing,” Twyla leaned on the counter. “My ex—the second, not the first or the third—couldn’t put two words together. But Lordy that man was good between the sheets.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter if he’s a talker or a lover,” Harley stated. “If he’s goin’ to be tastin’ the pie, he needs to pay the cook.”

A mumble of agreement spread through Josephine’s Diner.

“You thinkin’ we should form a plannin’ committee, Harley?” Rachel asked.

“That’s exactly what I’m thinkin’, Rachel.” Harley got up from his stool and hitched up his pants. “We’ll give Cates a few more weeks of enjoyin’ our scenery. But if he hasn’t popped the question by then, we’ll need to do a little intervention.” His mustache twitched. “Late September would be nice. Nothin’ like a weddin’ to fill up a lazy autumn afternoon.”

“Speakin’ of weddin’s,” Twyla said. “If Beau ain’t a criminal, you think you could relieve Kenny Gene of his
deputy job, Sam? Every time I get a few minutes to talk about weddin’ dates, he has to go runnin’ off to do his official duty.”

Sheriff Winslow nodded as he stabbed another bite of biscuits and gravy. “As soon as I’m done with my breakfast, I’ll head on out and get him. Lord only knows what kind of trouble that boy is gettin’ into.”

“I shore could use me one of them beers.”

Kenny Gene glanced over at Rye Pickett, who was crouched on the ground next to him, and he had to admit that his best friend looked like he’d been rode hard and put away wet. Sweat dripped in long trails through the green face paint Kenny had forced him to apply, and the shirt beneath the camouflage hunting vest was soaked clear through. Even the sprigs of mesquite in his cap looked wilted from the harsh sun that beat down on their heads.

Looking back at Beau Williams and the stranger who were stretched out on loungers not more than fifty yards away, Kenny had to agree that an ice cold beer and a splash in the pool sounded tempting. But Sheriff Winslow had given him a job to do, and he wasn’t about to let a little thing like scorching heat and dehydration keep him from it.

“Law enforcement officers ain’t got time to worry about things like comfort, Rye,” he said as he pulled his own sweat-soaked shirt away from his neck.

“Well, then I guess I ain’t cut out to be a law enforcement officer because I’m about done hangin’ out here sweatin’ my balls off. Besides, Beau shore don’t look like a criminal to me.” He spit a stream of tobacco to the ground, almost hitting a lizard that scurried from a rock.

Kenny shook his head. “That’s the difference between civilians and law enforcement officers, Rye. A cop can tell a criminal from a hundred yards away. And this man is a scoundrel if ever I’ve seen one. Why, just look at the way he was playin’
Brokeback Mountain
with that stranger right beneath Shirlene’s nose.”

“Brokeback what?” Rye stared back at him in confusion.

Kenny swallowed hard. If word ever got out that he let Twyla talk him into watching that movie with them fellers who liked to run buck-naked through the woods, he’d never be able to show his face in town again. Especially if anyone ever found out that he had actually liked the movie—not the buck-naked part as much as the thought of camping out in the wilderness without a woman nagging him about setting a wedding date.

“Never mind.” Kenny lifted his binoculars and stared through the lens trying to make out the features of the man who was stretched out next to Beau. But all he saw was a long crack and a blurred image. Obviously, Wal-Mart-Special binoculars would not survive a drop from a tree. When he lowered them only a few minutes later, the stranger in the cowboy hat was completely gone and only Beau remained.

“I think that feller has the right idea. I’m leavin’.” Rye pulled off his cap and jerked the mesquite branches out of the top.

“You can’t go,” Kenny said. “We’ve still got some surveillance to do.”

“You’ll have to do it by yourself, Kenny. I’m headed to Bootlegger’s for a cold one.” He slapped his cap back on his head and crawled off on his elbows and knees.

Once he was gone, Kenny looked back at the swimming pool. It had been over a week since he’d had anything good to report back to Sheriff Winslow. Or to Twyla, who was more into his deputy duties than Sam was. After he had told her about Beau moving in with Shirlene, she’d given him more sex than she had since Christmas. The thought had him fidgeting in his sweat-drenched clothes, and without Rye there to distract him, his mouth suddenly felt as dry and parched as Sutter Springs in late August. He reached for his canteen, but it turned out to be as dry as his mouth. While screwing the cap back on, his gaze swept over to the red-and-white cooler of beer by the lounge chair. And when Beau got up and went inside, the desire for a beer became too overwhelming to resist.

By the time Kenny reached the gate, he was as close to dehydration as a man could get. But just as he lifted the latch, Beau stepped back out the patio doors. Luckily he was talking on the phone, and Kenny had time to dive into a mesquite bush.

“…maybe he’s right, Brant. Maybe it’s time to let this revenge thing go—I mean the entire town will suffer when we close Dalton Oil’s doors. Do you want that on your conscience? Because I sure as hell don’t.” Beau grabbed the cooler and turned back to the door. “And if we do this, it won’t just hurt the town, Brant. It will hurt Billy. I think he loves—”

His words were cut off when the door clicked closed behind him.

Kenny waited only a moment more before he untangled himself from the bush and raced toward his truck.

Damn, he was going to have some hot sex tonight.

E
VEN THOUGH
S
HIRLENE HAD GOTTEN
very little sleep the night before, she couldn’t seem to sit still once she got back inside the trailer. A giddy energy consumed her, causing her to attempt things she’d never attempted before. By the time Mia and the kids had gotten up, she’d scoured the oven, cleaned out the refrigerator, and started breakfast. While her cleaning skills were adequate, her cooking skills were dismal. The pancakes she whipped up were thin as paper, filled with eggshells, and burnt on one side. Still, the kids seemed to love them.

The rest of the morning, she dusted and mopped, and did three loads of laundry. But the giddy energy remained. So after lunch, she herded everyone into the Navigator for a trip into town. Not only did she want the kids to have new clothes for Founder’s Day on Saturday, but she wanted to put a little distance between her and Billy Wilkes.