Catch Me a Cowboy (4 page)

Still, Billy didn’t like unanswered questions. Good thing all it would take to find out why a flashy blond gold digger, who clothed herself in diamonds and designer denim, owned a rundown trailer on Grover Road was a trip to the town diner. And since his stomach was touching his backbone, he could kill two birds with one stone.

Padding down the steps, he weaved his way through the junk toward the high hedge. But before he slipped through, he noticed the old ’55 Chevy sitting under an elm tree in one corner of the lot. Compared to the rusted-out, weathered frames of the other vehicles in the yard, the car looked to be in excellent condition.

Billy had always preferred trucks to cars. But his big brother had a weakness for antiques, so he walked over to check it out. The paint had a few rust spots, and the tires were all flat. But the windows were still intact, although the back one had a long spidery crack—

A head popped up and two bright eyes stared back at him through the dirty glass. Before Billy could get over his surprise at seeing a little kid in the backseat of the car, an engine cranked to life and a chainsaw-wielding psycho-killer came charging out from behind the trailer.

Now Billy had never backed down from a fight in his life. But the scary mask and haphazard way the psycho swung the chainsaw had him rethinking his position. Except before he could make a run for it, two things caught his attention: One, his assailant was no bigger than a Munchkin, and two, there was no blade on the chainsaw. Still, the metal arm hurt like hell when it came down on his shoulder. And pain wiped out all logical thought.

“Why you little shit!” Billy dodged the next swing, then brought his arm down and knocked the chainsaw out of the kid’s hands. The kid turned and tried to make a run for it, but Billy easily grabbed the neck of his Batman t-shirt and jerked him back.

“Let me go!” The kid fought like a little demon.

Billy tightened his grip as he reached out and pulled off the mask. The defiant redheaded imp that stared back at him caused Billy’s temper to cool, although he refused to let the struggling kid go.

“You better let me go!” the boy yelled. “’Cause if you don’t, you’ll be sorry. My daddy is the sheriff of this town. And when he finds out you’ve been threatenin’ me, he’ll shoot you dead.”

“Considering Sheriff Winslow doesn’t carry a loaded gun, I’m not real scared,” Billy stated. “Besides, who was threatening whom?”

The kid stopped struggling and glanced down at the gun in the waistband of Billy’s jeans. “Then what are you doing with that?”

“I was planning on using it on a psycho killer who likes to scare women with his chainsaw. Seen any of them around?”

The kid’s brown eyes didn’t even flicker. “Nope, I sure ain’t.”

Billy chuckled before he released the kid. “So what’s your name, son?”

“I ain’t allowed to talk to strangers,” he said sullenly.

Billy shrugged. “Then maybe I should get Sheriff Winslow out here, after all. I’m sure you’ll have no problem explaining yourself to your daddy.”

“Jesse,” the kid said in his belligerent tone.

“Nice to meet you, Jesse.” Billy stuck out a hand. “I’m your neighbor, Billy Wilkes. ’Course most folks call me Bubba.”

The boy’s eyes widened. “You’re Bubba? You sure? Because the Bubba I heard about sounded a lot younger—and a lot more fun.”

Billy scowled. “I’m not in my grave yet. And as for fun, I’m always in a better humor when I’m not being threatened.” He glanced down at the chainsaw. “You do realize that doesn’t have a chain, don’t you, son?”

“Mia won’t let me have one with a chain,” he groused. “She thinks it’s too dangerous.”

“Is Mia your mama?”

“Nope, my sister.” Jesse shot a quick glance behind him before he lowered his voice. “But she acts like my mama, always harpin’ at me for one thing or another. Geez, a guy can’t even catch a break.”

It was hard to stay mad at such a sassy kid, and Billy found himself smiling. “So I guess you live around here?”

“A couple over. You gonna be livin’ next door for good?”

“No.” The word came out a little too fast, and Billy backpedaled. “I’m just here for a little fishin’ and huntin’, is all.” He looked back at the Chevy and the child who still watched him through the cracked window. “You know that kid?”

“That’s my little brother, Brody. I’m babysitting him while my sister went into town.”

Unless it directly affected him, Billy believed in staying out of other people’s business. Still, he couldn’t stand the thought of a kid getting hurt.

“Listen, you and your little brother need to find another
place to play. This yard has way too many dangerous—” His words were cut off by a deep, familiar rumbling, and both he and Jesse looked out at the road as a huge monster truck drove past.

“You better get on home, Jesse,” Billy said as he turned and headed for the hedge. He had barely gotten through when the beast of a truck turned into his lot, its huge deep-treaded tires flattening the waist-high weeds as the mud-splattered chrome grill stopped within inches of him. The diesel engine cut off, and the door swung open.

“You plannin’ on shootin’ me for keepin’ your truck for so long?” Slate Calhoun said as he hopped down from the truck.

Billy cocked a hip and rested his hand on the revolver. “Only if you brought her back empty. Of course, even then, you’ll have to wait here while I run into the house for bullets.” He walked over and grabbed Slate’s hand in a firm shake. “Good to see you, man.”

“Same here.” Slate thumped him twice on the shoulder. “I thought you’d run off and forgotten about Bramble.”

“Nope, just been too busy for recreational sports. So what’s this I hear about you gettin’ hitched?”

Slate’s smile spread from ear to ear. “Married with child.”

“No kiddin’?” He shook his head. “Sounds like you’ve been busier than a four-legged bee.”

“A little.” Slate leaned up against the truck and crossed his arms. “So I take it the farm equipment business is going well.”

“Good enough.” Billy looked away from Slate and stared out at the road. “I heard about Dalton Oil.”

“Yeah, it sure came as a surprise. Not just the company doing so poorly, but Lyle dying of a heart attack. He was a good man.”

“So I hear.”

“But things are looking up,” Slate continued. “C-Corp hasn’t laid anyone else off. And we have some other businesses thinking about making a home here in Bramble.”

Billy’s gazed snapped back over to Slate. “Really? Anyone I know?”

“Colt Lomax for one—Shirlene Dalton’s brother.”

“Is that so?” Billy shook his head. “Well, I guess I need to catch up on all the town gossip.”

“I’ll have to fill you in another time, buddy,” Slate said as a Yukon pulled in behind the monster truck. “Right now, I’ve got early mornin’ weight-training with the team.” He placed a hand on Billy’s neck and herded him toward the SUV. “But come meet the family.”

Billy barely had time to flip the gun in the bed of the truck before he was being introduced to a pretty brunette with big blue eyes.

“This is my wife, Faith,” Slate said. “Faith, darlin’, this here is Billy Wilkes,” he paused as if waiting for a drum roll before he finished, “Bubba.”

If possible those blue eyes got even bigger as her lips formed a perfect O.

Grinning, Billy stuck his hand in the open window. “I’m sure pleased to meet you, ma’am.”

Her mouth snapped closed as her soft hand slipped into his. “And it’s a pleasure to meet you… Bubba. Or would you rather I call you Billy?”

The prim and proper manners coupled with the eastern accent took him by surprise, but he recovered quickly
and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “A pretty lady like yourself can call me anything she wants.”

“Be careful, Bubba,” Slate cut in. “This one’s taken.”

Billy winked at Faith. “Only because I didn’t get back sooner.” He tipped his head at the car seat in the back. “And I suppose that’s little Slate Junior.”

“More like Faith Junior.” Slate walked over to the back window and poked his head in. And Billy couldn’t help but squint his eyes at the cooing and babbling idiot the head coach of Bramble High’s football team had turned into.

“Why, hello, daddy’s little dumplin’. Did my Daisy have a good ride with her mama? Yes, you did, didn’t you?” His head popped back out. “Take a look, Bubba, isn’t she the cutest thing you’ve ever seen?”

Realizing there was no way to get out of it, Billy walked over and leaned down to take a look at the tiny little body completely engulfed by the car seat’s shoulder harness. Big blue eyes stared back at him from beneath a crop of silky brown hair. Unwilling to babble like her father, Billy kept it simple.

“Hey, there.”

The baby studied him so intently that Billy had trouble holding her gaze. Then as if she didn’t like what she saw, she scrunched up that chubby face and let out an ear-splitting scream. Billy couldn’t get away from the Yukon fast enough.

“I told you she was a genius, Faith,” Slate said, while flashing a teasing grin at Billy. “At a little over a month, my daughter has already developed good taste.”

“Slate,” Faith chastised as she reached around to soothe the child.

“It’s the truth, darlin’. And once you’ve been around the man for awhile, you’ll understand what I’m talking about.” He headed to the passenger side. “Stop by the stadium later on, Bubba. That’s if an East Texan can stand to see what a real football team looks like.”

Billy snorted. “I heard about that state championship trophy, but I didn’t realize they handed those out for flag football.”

“Flag, my—” Slate glanced at the backseat, “butt.” Still grinning, he climbed into the SUV.

“It was nice meeting you, Billy,” Faith said. “We’d love to have you over for dinner sometime.”

Slate leaned across her. “She’s only saying that because she’s never seen you eat.”

“It can’t be any worse than you with a plate of ribs, Calhoun,” Billy shot back before he returned his gaze to Faith. “I’d love to come for supper, Ms. Calhoun. You just say the word.”

“Friday?”

The quick reply took Billy by surprise. And before he could think up a good excuse, Slate jumped in. “We’ll see you on Friday then.”

“Damn,” Billy muttered under his breath as he watched Faith carefully back out. When she reached the road, she waited for the non-existent traffic for what seemed like a good five minutes before pulling out. But instead of telling her to get a move on like Billy would’ve done, Slate just sat there grinning like a fool. Obviously, the man had fallen hard. Billy was happy for him. Slate was good people.

When the Yukon was finally gone, Billy turned back to the trailer. The truck caught his attention, and he couldn’t
help but smile. From the floodlights to the American and Texan flags that hung from poles on either side of the back window, the monster truck screamed redneck like a flashing neon sign. The weathered stickers plastered on the huge back bumper didn’t hurt:
DON’T MESS WITH TEXAS; REBEL BORN AND REBEL BRED AND WHEN I DIE I’LL BE REBEL DEAD; I LIVE BY THE THREE B’S: BEER, BRAWLS, AND BROADS; CRUDE RUNS THROUGH MY VEINS.

And Billy’s favorite:
IF YOU THINK MY TRUCK IS BIG
…

It was male Texan philosophy at its finest. And Billy ate it up like a slice of apple pie à la mode.

“Hey.”

Billy glanced away from the truck and over to the redheaded kid who had just slipped through the hedge. And Jesse wasn’t alone. He held the hand of his little brother. Although Billy figured he’d misunderstood Jesse when he noticed the naked doll clutched in the child’s fist.

“Sorry, kid.” Billy headed for the door. “I don’t have time to chat.”

But Jesse was a quick little pain in the butt, and before Billy could reach the steps, he had dropped his sibling’s hand and raced over.

“So you ain’t gonna call the sheriff on me about the chainsaw?” he asked, his face wary. “Not even for chasin’ Ms. Dalton?”

Billy looked down at the kid with his mussed hair and dirty, freckled face and didn’t hesitate a second before answering.

“Nope.” He reached in his pocket, pulled out a ten dollar bill, and handed it to Jesse. “In fact, keep up the good work.”

T
HERE WAS SOMETHING NICE
about growing up in a small town. Something nice about driving down the one main street and being greeted and waved at by the people you’d known since you were in droopy diapers. But the flipside of that coin was that sometimes people knew you too well.

“Either I’m gettin’ senile, or I need to go get my eyes checked,” Moses Tate said as Shirlene hopped down from the Navigator. “Because I sure ain’t never seen Shirlene Dalton in town before noon.”

Since Moses had to be close to a hundred and never remembered to wear his hearing aids, Shirlene yelled back as loudly as she could. “No need to waste your time at the doc’s, Mr. Tate. It’s me in the flesh.” She shot him a wink as she walked around to the passenger door to let Sherman out. “Pig-sittin’ is keepin’ me from gettin’ my beauty rest,” she fibbed. “But I guess a pig’s got to eat when a pig’s got to eat.” As if to confirm her words, as soon as Sherman hopped to the ground, he trotted over to the gutter and started sniffing around a candy wrapper.