Catch Me a Cowboy (32 page)

“No, they ain’t,” Kenny Gene chimed in, alerting Billy to the fact that the entire town was now circled around them. “Them kids are the Foster kids. They live out on Grover Road with their mama.”

The state trooper looked thoroughly confused. “So you’re saying,” he pointed to Shirlene, “she’s their mother?”

“She ain’t their mother, she’s Shirlene Dalton—” Kenny Gene started, but Pastor Robbins cut him off.

“Their foster mother.” The man moved out of the group of townsfolk. In his board shorts and Hawaiian shirt, he stood out like a hooker in church. “I’m the one who has been helping her with all the paperwork.”

“Shirlene a mama.” Harley Sutter shook his head as he bounced Daffodil in his arms. “That’s almost as big of a surprise as Hope turning out to be Faith.”

“It ain’t that big of a surprise, Harley,” Rachel Dean said. “Everyone knows how much Shirlene has wanted children of her own. And seein’ as how these kids trail after her like a bunch of cute little ducklin’s, it looks like she found them.” She wiped at the corner of her eyes with her big man hands. “And if that ain’t the sweetest thing, I don’t know what is.”

The woman in the ugly pantsuit pulled open the car door and took out a thick folder. “But I have no records saying they have new foster parents. Their foster parents are Barb and Mickey Primple out of Houston.”

“No, they ain’t!” Jesse yelled as he pulled away from Billy. “They’re just two mean folks who shouldn’t have kids! And we ain’t goin’ back there never again! We’re livin’ out on Grover Road with Billy and Shirlene!”

His yelling got Brody to start screaming, which got the entire town all talking at once. Again it was Hope who put an end to the ruckus with one of her loud hog calls. But this time, Sherman didn’t race over to her. Instead, he remained right next to Shirlene as if he knew she needed his comfort.

“Are you sure you have the right children?” Hope asked once the crowd had settled.

The woman opened the folder and proceeded to hold up a picture of each of the children and read off their names—names with surnames that didn’t match. “Mia
Michaels, age sixteen. Jesse Rutledge, age nine. Brody Phelps, age three. And Adeline Rhodes…” She hesitated.

“Eleven and a half months.”

Billy glanced over at Shirlene. The smile had fallen, and her eyes were green, glistening pools of unshed tears. Tears that made his heart wrench. Especially when she fought so hard to keep them contained.

“She’ll be one in another week.” Shirlene’s voice shook. “I was planning on giving her a party—you know, the kind with her very own cupcake that she could smear…” She bit down on her bottom lip. “So you see, you can’t take her.” She looked over at Billy, and a tear trickled down her cheek. “Tell her, Billy. Tell her that she can’t take my baby.”

Billy’s hand tightened on Jesse’s shoulder. “No one is taking anyone,” he stated as he stared down first one officer and then the other.

The short state patrolman held up his hand. “I don’t know what’s going on here. All I know is I have my orders. I have to get these kids back to Houston. You can take it up with the judge there.”

“My name is William Cates, and I own C-Corp,” Billy said. “I’m also a close friend of Judge Myers. If you’ll just let me make a few phone calls, I can get this all figured out without you taking the kids anywhere.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “C-Corp? But I thought it was an employee of your company who called with the children’s whereabouts in the first place.”

Shirlene stared at him. “You turned in the kids?”

“No.” Billy shook his head. “I would never do that.” But he could tell by the look on her face that she didn’t believe him.

The state trooper grabbed Jesse’s arm and pulled him toward the patrol car. “Come on, son.”

Watching little Jesse try to fight off the officer was the final straw.

“Let him go!” Billy yelled as he reached out for the officer’s arm. The other state trooper went for his gun, and Beau grabbed Billy from behind.

“Don’t do anything stupid, Billy,” Beau said.

But it was too late. Billy had already done plenty of stupid things. One more wasn’t going to make a difference. Unfortunately, before he could shake his little brother off, Colt and Slate grabbed his arms. Still, Billy fought—fought as Jesse was forced in the car and Brody was taken from Shirlene. Fought until he was face down on the hot asphalt and had to watch as his last hope of redemption drove away.

T
HE DOOR OF THE OLD
C
HEVY CREAKED OPEN
, and Shirlene wasn’t surprised to see her brother. Colt, Hope, and Daffodil had been living in Shirlene’s guest house until their new home was completed. But since Shirlene no longer had a guest house, they were now sharing the trailer with her. At one time, she would’ve welcomed the company. Now all she wanted was to be alone.

“Move over, Sherman.” Colt eased the pig out of the way so he could sit down on the cracked leather seat. Sherman grunted his disapproval, but quickly resettled against Shirlene’s thigh as her brother slammed the door.

For a few moments, Colt slouched down in the seat and stared out the windshield. There wasn’t much to see. Just the ramshackle back fence and the branches of the elm tree swaying in the darkness.

“So where are we headed?” he finally asked.

It was a good question. One Shirlene didn’t have the answer to. She had come out to the car hoping to figure out the tangle her life had become; instead she felt more knotted than ever. Still, she put on a brave front.

“How about Paris?”

Colt shook his head. “Last time you took me there, I had to suffer through your bad French accent for an entire month—along with your refusal to eat my pancakes unless I called them crepes.”

Shirlene stroked Sherman’s ears. “I don’t know how you put up with me.”

Colt’s hand settled on her shoulder, his strength and love communicated through the tight grip of his fingers. “Because you were the best kid sister a brother could ask for.” When her gaze slid over to him, he held up his other hand. “Don’t get me wrong; you had your moments. But most the time you were this happy-go-lucky little girl who refused to let a drunken mama, or a surly brother, bring her down.” His hand tightened. “It was your positive nature and unconditional love that kept me sane.”

“Whoever said you were sane, Colt Lomax?”

He flashed one of his rare smiles. “Now there’s the spunky sister I love and adore.” When she didn’t answer his smile with one of her own, he grew somber. “We’re going to get them back, Shirl. Pastor Robbins is working on it as we speak.”

“But how, Colt?” She put her greatest fears into words. “How can I get the children back when I don’t have a job or a big enough house for all of them to live in? You and I both know that no court in the country is going to give me those kids.”

He released her shoulder and looked back out of the windshield. “Hope and I have been talking. If the courts won’t give you the kids, we’re willing to adopt them.”

His words should’ve made Shirlene feel happy. After all, Colt and Hope were wonderful parents. But instead of
feeling relieved, she just felt resentful. Hope and Colt had a baby. The Foster kids were hers.

Except they weren’t hers, and it was a waste of time to even fantasize about it. She had wanted a good home for the children, and this was her chance to get one. Which meant she needed to release her own selfish desires and appreciate the gift her brother was offering her.

She turned to him. “You won’t be sorry, Colt. Adeline is the cutest and best little baby—well, except when she’s hungry. She needs to eat at least five meals a day—but not carrots. She hates carrots. And Brody is precious as long as you don’t mess with Naked Barbie or give him a pair of scissors. And Jesse—well, Jesse is Jesse. He’s ornery as sin, but sweet as the dickens and can sell a soccer ball to a one-legged man. And then there’s Mia. The girl’s been through a lot, but any teenager who can feed and take care of an entire family by herself for close to a year—”

Colt held up a hand. “You don’t have to convince me, Shirl. If you love them, I’ll love them. And seeing as how you refuse to move out of this pile of tin, you’ll be close enough to our new home to help with the kids every day. Although I don’t know how long we’ll be living in Bramble if Dalton Oil goes under.” His hands tightened into fists. “I should’ve kicked William Cates’s ass while I had the chance. And considering he’s cooling his heels in the town jail, I still might.”

Earlier that afternoon, Shirlene might’ve egged her brother on. But now she no longer cared about punishing Billy. She just wanted him gone. Gone from her life and gone from Bramble. She didn’t want to see those lying eyes or hear his lying words ever again. But no matter how much she knew he was a lowdown rotten scoundrel, there
was something about his actions today that hadn’t added up. Why would a man who had called Children’s Protective Services fight so hard to keep the kids in Bramble?

Billy had fought. The state trooper had barely placed a hand on Jesse when Billy had started swinging. Shirlene had wanted to fight, too, but she refused to upset Brody when she knew the situation was hopeless. So she had smiled and talked softly to the little boy as she placed him in the car seat, trying her best not to look in his confused, tear-filled eyes. But even after the car had pulled away, the memory of those eyes remained with her. As did Mia’s. And Jesse’s. And sweet Baby Adeline’s.

“Come on, Shirl,” Colt said. “Let’s go inside. Pumpkin will want a kiss from her aunt before she goes to sleep.”

Shirlene shook her head. “You go on. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Most brothers would’ve argued. But that was the nice thing about Colt. He understood the importance of solitude.

“Say ‘hi’ to those Frenchies for me,” he said before he slipped out the car door.

After he disappeared inside the trailer, Shirlene only hesitated for a second before she reached for the door handle and climbed out. When she slipped through the hedge, there was no sexy cowboy to greet her. Just an empty lot filled with ruts from an oversized truck, a truck that still sat in town waiting for Billy to be released from jail in the morning. She wondered where Billy had found the outrageous truck. No doubt he had bought it off some poor redneck who didn’t care that it would be used to deceive an entire town.

While Sherman rooted around in the yard, Shirlene
climbed the steps to the front door. It was dark inside, but she didn’t turn on the lights. The half moon shone brightly through the thin sheets tacked over the window. She stayed away from the bedroom, and instead moved into the living room and sat down in the lopsided recliner. She stared at the small blank screen of the television for a few minutes before the door to the other bedroom caught her attention. It was funny, but she’d never been in the room—never even looked in it.

The room was filled with hunting and fishing equipment—a gun vault, fishing poles, waders, and camouflage vests. And she couldn’t help but wonder why a wealthy oil and natural gas tycoon had gone to such extremes to fill the room with country boy clutter. Her gaze fell on the large picture propped against the closet. It was covered with a sheet and seemed so out of place in the room that Shirlene couldn’t help but be curious.

Walking around mud-spattered boots and tackle boxes, she reached out and grabbed one edge of the sheet. The material slid easily to the floor, revealing the painting beneath in the soft moonlight. With her hand poised in mid-air, she stared at the nude painting.

It had been a while since she’d looked at it—or maybe she had never really looked at it. It was just another thing Lyle had bought her, something else to fill the nooks and crannies of her mansion. But she looked at it now, carefully studied each feature of the naked, laughing woman who stared back at her.

The artist had painted the picture from a photo Lyle had taken on their honeymoon. Shirlene had been on a margarita high at the time. And she suddenly wondered if she hadn’t spent most of her married life under the influence.
She had loved Lyle, but her life with him hadn’t been perfect. In fact, it had been lonely. More lonely then she had been willing to admit. Lyle had loved her, but his first love had always been Dalton Oil. And hers had been herself. At least it had been until four orphans showed up. Four orphans and a man who gave her something she hadn’t even realized she needed—companionship.

Maybe that was why the woman in the picture looked like a stranger, an old friend Shirlene had once known but who had long since moved away. And with time and distance, Shirlene was better able to see her friend for what she was—a little girl from Grover Road pretending to be a wealthy socialite.

A woman who was as fake as Bubba Wilkes.

“He took it with him the very first day I showed it to him.”

Shirlene jumped and glanced over her shoulder to see Beau standing in the doorway, his silver hair gleaming in the moonlight.

She looked back at the painting. “I don’t know why. The man thinks I’m nothing more than a spoiled trophy wife.”

Beau stepped into the room. “At one time, I wouldn’t have denied it. But a man who thinks that about a woman doesn’t usually steal their nude painting and store it with his most prized possessions.”

“You don’t have to lie anymore, Beau,” Shirlene said as she slipped the sheet back over the painting. “I know who Billy really is.”