Texas fury (22 page)

Amelia held the packet of bills close to her chest, as though it were her mother's Bible. She raised her eyes. "This doesn't quite even up the score, but for now it will do. You hear me, Pap?"

Valentine Mitchell, the Colemans' lawyer, looked as gorgeous and as professional as she had the day so many years ago when she walked through the doors at Sunbridge to save Cole and Riley from the trumped-up rape charge brought against them by the handyman's daughter.

She grinned at Amelia. "You got 'em, Amelia. I'll take all of this to Dudley and the others and let them look it over. We'll get back to you tomorrow. And may I say, well done!"

"As my Pap would say—we got those suckers by the balls, and now we can squeeze."

Valentine laughed. "How about crush?"

"How about it?" Amelia grinned.

"I'll see myself out. Nice seeing you again, Amelia."

"Give Dudley my regards."

"You bet."

"Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou," Amelia whispered.

On her way to the bathroom Amelia reached for her mother's picture on the mantel and carried it with her. "There are some things you don't ever tell anyone because they'd think you were loony. Billie understands, Mam. I knew you were trying to tell me something in those dreams. This was it. Oh, Mam, you must know what I'm going to do. What I don't understand is how you knew. Pap said only he and Aggie knew. I guess up there you know everything. If by some chance Pap is there with you, tell him I said thanks." She blew a kiss in the direction of the picture before she climbed into the shower. She didn't feel foolish at all. Life was full of wonderful, unexplained things.

Cary tossed and turned all night. He wasn't sick, that much he knew. Finally, at four o'clock, he got out of bed and

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switched on the television. Strange feelings were rushing through him. Feelings he wanted to explore. There were things he wanted to say aloud.

At five o'clock he stood under the shower. The hard-on he'd had since coming back to the hotel finally disappeared. He felt drained. At six o'clock he was the first customer in the coffee shop. He ordered the Number Three breakfast special with an extra glass of orange juice, but when the plate arrived, he realized he wasn't hungry. He drained the coffee cup and smoked four cigarettes. He was back in his room at seven-twenty. He packed his bag, checked his briefcase. He walked around the suite of rooms to be sure nothing was forgotten.

At 7:31 he walked to the telephone and called Julie's number.

"Hi," she said in her unused morning voice. "You sound wide-awake this morning, Cary. I do want to thank you for a wonderful evening."

"It was my pleasure. The reason I'm wide-awake is I didn't sleep all night."

His candor was frightening. "I didn't sleep very well myself. I did put a piece of cake under my pillow, though, and made my wish."

"I wanted to say good-bye."

"We said good-bye last night."

"I know, but I wanted to say it again. I don't like goodbyes."

Julie drew a deep breath. "Cary, this is no good. The only thing in this whole world that you can't count on are your emotions, and right now mine are at an all-time high. I don't want to be hurt. I don't want you to be hurt, and I certainly don't want Amelia to be hurt. There's the family, and Cary, I'm not good at sneaking around. I'm an up-front person. Now, I have to get to work or I ... Go home, Cary, where you belong."

"Julie, please don't hang—" He cursed at the sound of the broken connection. He wanted to call her back, more than anything in the world. Maybe he could explain that... explain what? That he was married? That he had the hots for her? She knows that, he told himself. She has more sense than you do, Cary. Go home, back to Amelia and your life in Texas. Amelia is your life.

By five minutes past ten Cary had picked out an answering

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machine in Macy's. He gave Julie's address, paid extra to have a messenger service deliver it after six. He paid cash. He didn't know if he felt better or worse. He didn't care.

At 11:27 he boarded the 747 for Austin. He was going home, where he belonged.

(UliiUi CHAPTER EIGHT >»»»»

The extra-long dining room table at Buckalew Big Wells was a joke to everyone in the family but Tess. She'd seen one like it in a movie and determined to have one. A monstrous centerpiece of dried flowers resting on a lacy doily stood in the middle. At each end was a candelabrum with pale lavender candles. Tess loved the color purple in all its variations.

Tonight she sat at one end, Coots at the other, just the way it was done in the movie. What did she care if Coots had to shout to be heard?

"This is stupid," Coots yelled. "No one is here but us. No point in wasting heat and electricity in this dining room. We could eat just as well in the breakfast nook. No need for all this, Tess. I keep telling you this ain't Tara and you ain't Scarlett."

"And for sure you ain't Rhett," she shouted. "If I want to think of Buckalew Big Wells as my personal Tara, I will, Coots Buckalew, and there is no call for you to be so feisty. We're dining the way decent, normal folks dine. You never did have any manners." She stabbed at her chicken breast.

Defiantly, Coots picked up the half chicken on his plate with his fingers. He sank his teeth into the soft white meat, ripped off a piece and then another, paying no attention to the sticky, sweet sauce that stuck to his chin and fingers.

"Bastard," Tess hissed.

"Bitch," Coots bellowed with his mouth full.

"You know what you remind me of, Coots? A tick getting fat off a big ol' hog. You're the hog."

"Bitch," Coots repeated. He wiped his fingers on the fancy

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lace tablecloth. Then he burped. Tess watched as Coots lifted one heavy thigh off the chair.

Tess screamed. "Don't even think about doing that in mah dining room, because if you do, you'll get these mashed potatoes right in your face. You are an ignorant man, Oakes Buck-alew."

"And you're a fine lady married to this ignorant old warthog," Coots bellowed.

"You don't have to scream. I can hear you just fine. Now that we have the endearments out of the way, would you mind telling me what's wrong besides the fact you have a tick in your Jockey shorts? Or is it the clap?"

"You ain't got no class, Tess. Leastways none that I've ever seen. I admit I ain't got none, and I don't want any."

"You do have a burr biting into you, don't you? Come on, Coots honey," she cooed, "tell me what it is that's making you so nasty."

"You want to know what's bothering me, I'll tell you what's bothering me. We're broke. I been telling you that for the past year and you don't pay me no mind. Spend, spend, spend. Instead of helping me, you and your children are putting me deeper into a hole."

"Now, don't go picking on the kids, Coots. What's between us is between us. They haven't done anything."

"Lacey's shiftless and you know it. She don't do what she's told. She's hankering after Cole Tanner, and he don't want no part of her, so what does she do, she sidles up to Riley. A Jap. If she cared anything for this family, she'd have convinced Riley to take over some of these oil leases. Did she do that? Hell, no. She calls Cole on the sneak and tries to get him to take her back. No account," he said bitterly. Coots cleverly ignored mentioning that he was the one who sicked Lacey onto Riley. "There's still hope for Ivy, but I ain't counting on it. So what do you have to say in defense of the kids, Tess?"

"I'll tell you what I have to say. Lacey doesn't have to pull your chestnuts out of the fire. If you ain't man enough to do it, don't send a woman to do it for you. Ivy is a hooligan, just like her father. The case is closed, Coots honey."

"It's closed when your charge accounts get cut off and I cancel the lease on that fancy suite in the Assante Towers. That's when it's closed. You better cut back on these house

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bills or you'll be on the street with the rest of the hookers in Austin."

The threat of eviction always scared Tess, no matter how much money she had in the bank. Being homeless was a terrible thing to imagine. People would talk. She loved Buckalew Big Wells. She'd had a dream once that Coots had tossed her out with only the clothes on her back and the latest astrology book. In her dream she'd become a bag lady doing horoscopes in a moldy train station for ten cents each. The dream was so real she'd sweated for days every time she thought about it. Beads of perspiration dotted her high brow right now. Men were the kings in Texas and she knew it, just like every other woman knew it.

"Coots, look me in the eye," Tess said, coming around to his end of the table. "Look me in the eye and tell me the truth—could we lose Buckalew Big Wells?"

"I think it's already lost," Coots mumbled. "Everyone is in the same boat we are. Ain't no place to get it, Tess. I thought for sure I'd have the Jarvis place by now, but that kid ain't selling. That was my ace in the hole."

"You waited till now to tell me this?" Tess screeched. "If I didn't bring it to a head, when were you going to tell me, the day they put the notice in the newspapers?" Coots shrugged.

"You might be an oilman, but you ain't no businessman."

"Did the stars tell you that?" Coots guffawed. If he didn't laugh, he'd cry.

"No, the stars didn't tell me that," Tess said nastily, "but the stars might get us out of this mess. If I bring the mortgage payments up-to-date, will you put Buckalew Big Wells in my name?"

"Sure, why not? But you got about as much chance of pulling that off as I have."

"How much cash do we have?"

Coots hung his head. "Ten or twelve thousand. I been telling you, but you wouldn't listen."

Tess screeched a second time. "That's all? Did you pay the lease on Assante Towers?"

"First quarter. They're coming due again."

"I'm going to take over that suite, and I don't want to hear another word about it. I'll rent it out or sublet it. Tomorrow morning, Coots, you have all the bank papers here on this table. You hear me? Then you meet me at the bank at one

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o'clock to put this house in my name. You got any objections, you say so right now."

"Anything you say, Tess. I can just see you as a bag lady. You look the part. Now all you have to do is get Neiman-Marcus to make you up a bag lady outfit, and you'll be all set." He laughed again, but it was a bitter, defeated sound.

Cole was just ready to leave the office when his phone buzzed. His sister was calling from Tokyo. "About time," he muttered.

"How's it going?"

"You tell me, Sawyer; what the hell happened? I thought you were going to call me after the big meeting."

"I had business to attend to. Nothing happened as far as I know. Chesney met Rand and Maggie for about twenty minutes, then left to go back to England. Maggie says Rand doesn't believe her, but Maggie does. So do I. If you want to call, they should be back in Hawaii by now, trying to come to terms with their jet lag. Even as we speak they're probably both lazing on the delicious white sand, while we freeze our butts off. Take some advice and don't call. This is their problem. Let them work it out. If they need us, they know where we are."

"I was thinking about taking the Dream Machine and going over. I could use some white sand and blue water. But if you don't think it's a good idea, I won't go."

"It's just my opinion. The decision is yours. How's everything going? How's Riley holding up?"

"He's not doing much talking these days. I think he's trying to shoulder the blame for the whole goddamn oil industry. Have you seen his grandfather lately?"

"I'm going out tomorrow. I try to stop by once a week or so. He's not good, Cole. I wish Riley ... Never mind."

Cole sighed. He really liked the old Japanese. "Thad and Grandmam are due this weekend. Riley told me this morning, and now he's more skittish than I've ever seen him. He says they're coming to him for an accounting."

"Stay out of it, Cole."

"I will. Jesus, you're still as bossy as ever."

"I'll ignore that," Sawyer laughed. "What else is new?"

"Bet you'll never guess where Riley and I have been invited this evening. For dinner—barbecue, actually."

"I don't have an inkling. Tell me."

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"Adam invited us to the ranch. I met him in Miranda the other day. He had his stepson with him. He asked about you."

"Oh."

"Oh? Is that all you can say? I told him you were real ugly these days and that you have to pluck your mustache."

"You egotistical shitbox. Tell me you didn't say that, and yes, I can call you a shitbox. You're my little brother."

"We're contemporaries. I caught up. Haven't you noticed? I'm not a little brother. I am your brother. Period. That's what I told him."

"I don't pluck, I tweeze. And I don't have a mustache, I have fine hair above my upper lip. I hear you have a brand-new feather duster above your lip. Riley, too. Jeez."

"Makes us look older. Dealing with fifty-year-old oilmen requires suavity. Riley talked me into it."

"I thought you said you were grown-up," Sawyer teased. "Must drive the girls crazy."

"I'm beating them off with a stick morning, noon, and night."

"You wish. This is costing money, so I think I'll hang up. Say hello to Adam, and tell him to write me a letter. Or tell him I'll be home in the spring and perhaps he'll invite me for a barbecue."

"You've stayed in touch with Adam, haven't you?"

Her hesitation was noticeable. "Not really. Christmas cards, that kind of thing. I knew he was married. I ... I had a bad time over that. I guess I thought he was going to wait forever for me to make up my mind."

"If you're angling for sympathy, you won't get it from me," Cole said flatly. "I'm one of those guys who thought— still do for that matter—you two were meant for each other."

"It's my loss, Cole."

"He's free now."

"I can't start something, Cole. If it's meant to be, it will be. Give Adam a chance. Look, let's drop it, okay?"

"Okay by me."

"Give Adam my regards and let it go at that. I miss all of you, I really do. Sometimes I feel so cut off over here."