Lone Star Cinderella (2 page)

She couldn't believe she'd said that and with such force. By the look on his face, Seth couldn't either.

It felt insanely satisfying.

“Are you finished?”

Was she? She could almost see him gearing up to tell her once more she had to leave. It made her want to pull her hair out in more ways than one. “Yes,” she said, deflating. Had the last five minutes all been a charade?

“
No
,” she added. “I need to say this…I—I'm going to stay. I have a legal right.”

Seth's expression darkened, and Melody looked down and thought once more about running. But she wasn't going anywhere. She was staying—unless he threw her over his broad shoulder and hauled her off…and he could do that as easily as she could carry off a stuffed toy. “I did sign the lease.” She suddenly remembered how Wyatt had grinned when he presented her with the lease. He'd known this was how his brother was going to react to her being here! He'd leveraged her position on purpose—the plot thickened…Wyatt wanted her here just as much as she wanted to be here. But why? “Look. While I know you might not want me here, I
promise
you're not going to regret it.”

His lips flattened, and he had the oddest look in his eyes. A huge lump lodged in her windpipe and her
resolve started to crumble—but he suddenly spun on his heels, stalked to his truck and disappeared in a cloud of dust. Just like he'd arrived.

Only then did it dawn on her…“I'm still here,” she said, turning slowly to look at the house. And as she took a step toward it, she smiled all the way to her toes.

S
he'd stood her ground! A delicious sense of pride and disbelief curled its way through Melody.

And with
Seth Turner
of all people.

Seth was outgoing, totally dashing and self-assured—that is, when he wasn't upset as he had been just now. Obviously, not getting his own way didn't suit him. They were polar opposites in every way. No one recognized that more than she did. She hovered in the background, forgettable in her quietness, while Seth was unforgettable. When the man entered a room, you noticed. When the man
left
a room, you noticed. Consequently, women flocked around him.

She should know, she'd watched from afar—as in far across the room—for two years. And she'd gotten the idea watching him that he took his female adoration for granted. As if he didn't care one way or the other that the women were there, he just expected they would be. Oddly that just seemed to draw them all the more. Women were weird like that sometimes.

Understanding her limitations and shortcomings
she'd admired him from a distance. So much so that she almost hadn't called to ask if she could see the stagecoach house in the first place.

Who would have thought all of that would lead to her watching him speed off into the hot summer heat, temper blazing? Without a doubt, she would never have had this opportunity if he'd been the one to pick up the phone that day.

She wasn't exactly sure what the two brothers had going on between them but thank goodness she'd signed a lease.

Why was Seth so against the idea of her being here?

That put a damper on the pride she felt for having stood up for her rights. But really, when she'd decided to do this research on outlaw Sam Bass it had been because she desperately needed a distraction from her life. Lately she'd begun to feel a complete and utter lack of respect for herself. And it felt wrong to feel so much resentment toward her brother…and even her parents to some extent, God rest their souls. But lately, as her brother, Ty, had continued his roller-coaster ride of alcohol and drugs, expecting that she would always be there to pay his way like her parents had, she'd begun to feel trapped. Guilt riddled her and turmoil had begun to rule her life once more. Just as it did every time Ty went off the wagon and started using again. No matter what she did with her life, she'd realized that Ty ruled it. And she didn't know what to do.

The idea of losing herself in researching Sam Bass and the hidden treasure had come to her late one night when she was reading and trying to forget a particularly nasty phone exchange she'd had with Ty…she had to admit that sometimes she wanted to run away. It was
hard dealing with Ty and everything—treasure hunting seemed like such a fascinating escape.

It had been the depth of her stress level that had given her the courage to make the call to tour the stagecoach house. And it had been the thought of losing this great opportunity that had caused her to stand her ground against Seth Turner.

And now, she had a new mystery that intrigued her. Hurrying inside the stagecoach house, she wondered what was in those journals that would make Seth want to keep them secret.

The only way to find out was to read them.

She headed straight to the hall closet where they were stored in an 1800s strongbox. Grabbing hold of the brass handles, she dragged the heavy wooden chest out into the open and lifted the lid. When Wyatt had shown the journals to her she'd been curious, but she was so excited about her own research that she hadn't yet looked inside of them. Now Seth's reaction had her full attention, and she was compelled to find out what it was he was so concerned about.

“Let's see what you're hiding,” she mumbled. Picking up the first journal, she sat cross-legged on the floor and began to read.

 

Seth
already
regretted it as he stormed into his house. Yanking open the fridge door and pulling out a soda, he popped the tab so hard the metal ring flew across the room and bounced off his John Deere calendar. What had his foolhardy brother been thinking?

Seth took a long drink of the dark liquid feeling the flavor burn its way down his throat. Restless, he crushed the can in his hand before stalking to his office. He
slouched into his chair as he grabbed the phone and jabbed his brother's number into the keypad. He waited for what seemed like an eternity but was really only four rings before Wyatt picked up.

“You better be glad there's three hundred miles between us right now—”

“Man, I knew it!”

“Knew what?”

“Knew that timid woman would get to you. Got to me. I couldn't help myself.”

“You couldn't help yourself? What kinda crazy, cockamamy story is that? If you couldn't help yourself, then fine, give her the tour and be done with it. But
don't
have her sign a lease and move her in on my turf.”

Wyatt bellowed with laughter.

“Stop laughing. This isn't funny. You know good and well I don't want her out there rifling through Grandma Jane's journals.” Grandma Jane was actually his great-great-great-great-great-grandmother, but growing up knowing their family tree like they did had its problems when telling stories. Seth and his brothers had shortened all their grandparents to Grandpa or Grandma and followed it with their first name. It made life easier.

Wyatt groaned over the line. “Seth, man. You and I both know she's not going to find anything in them. We've both read them, and there is no truth in the tall tales Gramps spouted off all those years ago. Would you just relax? Look, I have to go or I'll be late.”

“Hey,” Seth snapped but the line was already dead. More disgruntled than ever, Seth leaned back in his chair and stared at his black computer screen. He envisioned Melody Chandler's bright eyes staring out at
him. Wyatt would have been as surprised as he was to see nothing timid in those eyes today. Where had the woman he'd met today come from? The plain Jane he'd seen around town for the last couple of years seemed reserved and…well, to be brutally honest, boring.

The woman he'd encountered today had eyes that caught the light with her enthusiasm and indignation. Today those eyes sparkled like his mother's amethyst brooch. It had been amazing. How had he never noticed them before?

Because you never looked before
.

True. He tried to think if he'd ever actually been close enough to have seen the richness of color in them…he came up empty. Matter of fact, he'd bet the closest he'd ever come to her was when he'd attended the singles Sunday school class—not that he went to Sunday school class often. He was more of a congregation man. And he was certain that when he was in the auditorium that Melody Chandler was always clear across the room from him. He had noticed her over there, though. Noticed that she was one of those women who seemed to sit down and grow smaller. Like she drew into herself. She looked neither to the left or the right as she listened to the preacher's words. Personally, he thought she looked like she'd locked herself up in a box.

But today she'd seemed stronger. Bolder. He smiled thinking of how she'd puffed up and glared at him. Of course he could tell she was bluffing…one thing about his great-great-great-great-great-Grandpa Oakley—just plain Grandpa Oakley for short—was that he'd known a bluff from a mile away. It was said that when it came to poker the man hadn't needed to lie or cheat. That he
won at poker because he could read people…it was a trait he'd passed down to Seth. And he'd thought he was pretty good at it until today.

No doubt about it; Melody would have grabbed her bags and hit the road back to town the split second he'd snapped “git.”

All he had to do was push a tad harder and she'd vacate his property—rental contract or not. And that was the kicker—why hadn't he pressed and sent her running?

Because he was intrigued and surprised…and that hadn't happened to him in a very long time.

 

“I still ain't believin' that them three gals went on a cruise,” Applegate Thornton was saying the next morning when Seth walked into Sam's Diner. “If that ship knows what's good fer it it'll ban Norma Sue and Esther Mae from the sun deck.”

“And what about yor fair-skinned Adela, Sam? She could come home fried like a lobster,” Stanley said.

Seth took his seat at the counter beside another cowboy, Luke Burns. He was sipping his coffee and listening to the conversation like the entertainment that it was. App and Stanley were longtime buddies and spent most mornings at the front window table in battle over their checkerboard. Like most of the men around town Seth liked getting to the diner before they left so he could hear what the two men had to say.

“Y'all don't need ta be a worry'n about my wife. Adela's got more sense in her pinky than you two got combined. She'll be wearin' a hat and plenty of sunscreen.” The wiry little man plunked a white coffee cup in front of Seth and filled it in one fluid movement.

“Now don't go getting all riled up, Sam,” Applegate practically hollered—not because he was mad, just half deaf and too stubborn to keep his hearing aid on. “All's I'm sayin' is them three could git into trouble off out thar in the Atlantic. I ain't believin' you, Roy Don and Hank let um go.”

Sam scowled at his old friend. “Let um go? Them's three grown women with independent minds. They got this idea 'cause us fellas didn't want ta set foot on that floating Titanic so they went without us.”

Applegate, thin as a toothpick and as dour as a pickle, looked from Stanley to Sam. “You scared of the water?”

Sam nodded. “Yup, and I'm man enough to admit it.”

Luke chuckled and drew a glare from Sam. “Son, I might be short and twice yor age but I kin kick yor sorry hide right out of that thar door.”

“No offense, Sam, but you got to admit it's sorta funny.”

Sam snorted and crossed his arms as he glared at all of them. It was clear that he was in no mood to be messed with. To their surprise, he suddenly threw his hands up in the air. “Y'all ignore my ill temper. I'm missing my Adela somethin' fierce. We ain't been apart since we got married a year ago.”

Seth grinned. “That explains it then.” Sam and Adela were newlyweds. And the diner owner was head over heels in love with his longtime love.

“When are they coming home?” Seth asked.

“Six days, five hours and thirty-two minutes.”

Luke shook his head and laid his money on the table. “That's just sad, Sam. It's just wrong to be that tied down.”

Seth half expected Sam to fly around the counter and take Luke down before he got out of the diner but instead he wagged his head. “Poor cowpoke. He don't have a clue what he's sayin'.”

“Yup,” Applegate barked. “Thar ain't nothin' like the love of a good woman. Ain't that right, Stanley?”

“Yep. Right.” Stanley never lifted his gaze from the checkerboard. He rubbed his plump chin then grinned as he reached for his checker and made his move. “Gotcha!”

“Oh, phoo,” Applegate snapped. Standing, he snatched up his Stetson and settled it precisely on his head. “Come on, ya old coot. We got ta get to play practice.”

Stanley beamed like a flare as he raked the checkers into a pouch then folded the board. “I've done whupped ya every game this week, App. You gonna concede that I'm the better player?”

App snatched up the half-full five-pound bag of sunflower seeds and marched toward the door without saying a word.

Stanley, on the other hand, looked like a rooster with his chest thrown out so far it was a wonder he didn't throw out his hip. “See y'all,” he drawled and caught the swinging door as App disappeared through it. “Come on, App,” he called. “Ya gotta admit it some day. I'm the better player.”

App's snort could be heard even though the door had swung shut behind them. They also helped out with the lights at the barn theater on the outskirts of town. With the Fourth of July just around the bend, Seth knew the theater was planning a special production.

“Those two are something,” he said, turning back to Sam.

“Somethin' else. They need themselves some new wives. Bein' widowers all these years ain't good fer the old snoops.”

Seth wrapped his hands around the warm coffee cup as Sam topped it off. “Maybe Adela and her cohorts can put their talent to work and hook them up when they get home from this cruise.”

Norma Sue, Esther Mae and Adela loved matchmaking and had even placed an ad a couple of years back that brought single women to Mule Hollow to marry the lonesome local cowboy population. The town had been on the brink of dying back then, but their efforts had totally revitalized the community of three hundred—give or take a handful.

Sam cocked his head to the side and studied Seth. “I'm 'fraid thar might not be any hope fer them two. But you better be on the lookout when them girls get home.”

Seth grunted and took a swig of coffee, deciding he wasn't touching that comment with a ten foot pole.