The Counterfeit Cowgirl (2 page)

She stared after him. It looked as though establishing herself as a responsible businesswoman and a good neighbor during her brief stay in Foxe was going to be harder than she thought.

Well, she relished a challenge; nothing was any fun if it came too easily. Still, she was unused to being disliked, and dislike was the dominant emotion on Aaron’s face when he’d told her to repair the house and stay away from his family. It was amazing how deflated she felt after the small confrontation, even though she knew the truth about Lureen Tucker and he, apparently, didn’t.

“Is everything all right?” The tow-headed teen who helped load her groceries earlier, grinned at her. Country music’s hottest female star, Becky Lozano, erupted from his earbuds loud enough to be clearly heard as he approached. “Old Aaron looked pretty put out.”

“Who is he?” Felicity asked. “He looks like he just rode in off the cattle range.”

“He does own about a hundred head of Red Brahmans,” the boy said cheerfully. “But you don’t make much off them.” He nodded at her truck. “He owns the Chevrolet dealership a mile or so down the highway. Maybe he’s mad because you’re driving a Dodge.”

Felicity glanced affectionately at her new white truck. A thick crust of tiny black insects covered the grill and dotted the hood and windshield. “That’s probably it. Are you a Becky Lozano fan?”

“You bet I am.” The teenager patted the pocket containing his MP3 player. “Every year, I pray they’ll get her to sing at the Rice Festival.”

“Maybe they will.” She had seen the billboard signs advertising this year’s Rice Festival when she drove into town. Thankfully, Becky Lozano wouldn’t be anywhere near Foxe during the festival.

“The festival’s in a couple of weeks, isn’t it?” she asked, just to be sure.

“That’s right, ma’am. They’ve got Randy MacElroy as headline entertainer this year.”

Felicity grinned. “That should thrill the ladies.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Her denim skirt and bandanna-print blouse clung damply to her skin by the time she climbed into her truck and switched on the radio. Becky Lozano’s mellow, Kentucky Hills voice reached out, but before the melody could wrap itself around her, Felicity punched the off-button.

Which reminded her; she needed to buy a new cell phone. Hers appeared to have no service in Foxe. Felicity thought about going in search of one and decided against it. She would enjoy the peace and quiet for maybe one more day.

Dozens of the little black flies that covered the hood of her truck floated in the still air. She supposed she’d better get her truck washed — that was another job for tomorrow.

She turned off the highway and drove down the country road to the house, admiring the flat, green pastures and picturesque, grazing cattle. Rice fields and levees bordered with tallow trees formed a patchwork pattern that was unusual to eyes accustomed to green Tennessee hills. The peaceful scene was unexpectedly soothing.

The whole thing with Aaron Whitaker was a misunderstanding, she decided. He was bound to apologize when he discovered the facts, and when she got the problem with the well corrected — assuming there was a problem. Felicity pictured herself accepting Aaron’s apology and grew more cheerful as she imagined an abashed expression on those rugged features.

She turned into the shell-covered driveway of her temporary home, bounced across a couple of ruts, and mentally noted to call out a driveway repairman, along with a lawn-care service and a water well covering business.

Glancing next door — which was far enough away to require a pair of binoculars if she wanted to observe details — Felicity scowled at the dusty blue pickup. Then she noticed an unusual air of excitement about the pristine landscape. Aaron himself stood near the neatly trimmed hedge that separated their two properties, frantically calling someone.

Felicity pointedly ignored him but continued to watch the action out of the corner of her eye. A slim young woman repeated Aaron’s actions at the other end of the wide, spreading lawn. Perhaps she was Aaron’s wife. A third woman, whom Felicity took to be the housekeeper, ran out of the house and toward a sprawling building at the rear of the property.

Felicity climbed out of her truck with keys in one hand, a sack of cleaning supplies balanced on her other arm, and her gaze fixed on the search. No doubt one of Aaron’s dogs had gotten loose and taken off for parts unknown. Felicity experienced a twinge of sympathy for the dog, although she told herself it would serve Aaron right to lose a valuable dog — probably a bull terrier or a Rottweiler. Furthermore, he had no right to drag his poor wife out in the afternoon heat to search for his stupid dog. Felicity grew indignant over his thoughtlessness.

Thoughts of the well out back gave her a twinge of fright, but she vanquished that quickly. If she knew Aaron, and she thought she did after that one brief meeting, he had already checked out the well, probably hoping he’d find the dog at the bottom of it so he could sue her.

She held the grocery sack carefully so the rattle of the paper wouldn’t interfere with her snooping and tiptoed across the creaking, wooden porch. Whoever heard of naming a dog Pete? Or Joey?

Perhaps Aaron’s children had gone missing. But surely he’d have mentioned them instead of his dogs when he told her about her uncovered well. No, Pete and Joey must be Aaron’s dogs.

She frowned. Perhaps the dogs were a matched set of schnauzers like the ones she saw at a friend’s house last week in Nashville. Their real names were probably something like Joleibenshen’s Benckenstein Venerschnitzel. They probably possessed shelves full of dog show trophies and a sheaf of pedigree papers.

Felicity decided she’d been too harsh. The dogs were probably house pets unused to the humid late summer temperatures of the Gulf Coast. She couldn’t let two beautiful schnauzers, or whatever kind of dog he had lost, suffer because Aaron Whitaker was a judgmental jerk.

Setting her sack on the porch, Felicity slung her purse over her shoulder and marched across the thick, high grass toward the bordering estate. Aaron glanced up then ignored her. Even at a distance, Felicity saw the scowl marring his darkly tanned brow.

“I’ll help you look for them,” she said crisply, as soon as she drew within earshot. “When were they last seen?”

“Thanks, but we don’t want your help,” Aaron said. “Go on back and enjoy your grandmother’s life savings.”

“What?”

“You heard me.” His smile was silky and dangerous — a strange expression on such a ruggedly carved face. “Mrs. Tucker told me how her granddaughter robbed her of her small savings account. That was why she couldn’t afford to get that menace of a well covered.”

Felicity started to refute that.

“A woman who’d steal from a helpless old lady is worse than a gold digger,” he snapped. “Now get out of here. We have better things to do than waste time with the likes of you.”

Felicity overcame her desire to do something violent to Aaron’s shins. Even in her own stunned condition, she realized he was in a state of strong emotion that had nothing to do with her.

“Now listen, Mr. Whitaker — ”

“
You
listen. I want you off my property. If I have to get a court order to keep you off, I’ll do it. Now move it.”

“The more people who help you look — ” she began.

The very idea enraged him. “I don’t need any help from the likes of you. Now get your skinny little fanny off my property before I really lose my temper.”

Felicity had faced down too many hostile sales prospects in her former career as a traveling saleswoman to be intimidated by an overwrought dog owner. She produced a soothing smile. “Since you’re obviously feeling less than reasonable at the moment, I’ll just get on home. I’ll keep my eye out for them and call you if I see or hear anything.”

“Go away,” Aaron fairly snarled.

“After all, two schnauzers should be easy to spot.”

Aaron stared at her a moment. “Lady, you are one loony little nutcase. Get off my property before I put you on that silly-looking saddle of yours and ride you clean out of town.”

Felicity smiled at the vision of herself riding the miniature saddle on her purse. The artisan had assured her it was correct in every detail.

“See you later, Mr. Whitaker. In the meantime, I’ll keep an eye out for your dogs.”

She turned on her heel and marched back across the thick, almost knee-high grass, ignoring Aaron’s frustrated exclamation. She ruined the effect by tripping over a hidden crawfish mound and nearly falling flat on her face.

So much for being neighborly. Felicity reached her front porch once more and took notice of her damp, steamy state. She was only too happy to return to the air-conditioned comfort of her own place — except the air conditioner wasn’t working, and the repairman wouldn’t arrive until tomorrow. She inserted her key into the lock and wondered why a man desperate to find his dogs was so equally determined not to accept any help from her. It was downright puzzling.

Something was wrong with her key. Felicity pulled it out and gazed at the key tip. It was coated with a sticky, glue-like white substance. Worse, the door was unlocked. Felicity shoved it open with her booted-foot and glared inside. After tangling with Aaron, she felt primed to deal with a burglar.

She saw no one, but then she hadn’t expected anyone. She had already discovered the front door lock was unreliable at best. Felicity registered another addition to her list of repairpersons to call and stalked inside.

Dumping her grocery sack and purse unceremoniously onto the welter of old newspapers and magazines littering the sofa, she turned back and studied the offending lock. The peculiar white substance was now oozing from the keyhole.

Pondering the matter, Felicity retrieved two more sacks of cleaning supplies from her truck and another sack full of boxes of large plastic trash bags. She glared across the expanse of grass. Aaron had crossed the road that ran before their houses and was searching the field opposite, where several dozen humped, mahogany-colored cows grazed peacefully.

To the rear of the Whitaker property, the slender dark-headed woman scurried frantically toward the barn and over to the equally distraught housekeeper. The two exchanged helpless gestures that aroused Felicity’s sympathy. As soon as she changed her clothes, she was joining in the search whether Aaron liked it or not.

She threaded her way toward the bedroom. Her grandmother had saved every piece of paper that had crossed her path during the past five years and the stacks formed an obstacle course for the unwary.

The telephone shrilled. Felicity grimaced and detoured to the kitchen to answer it. The kitchen cabinets and one drawer stood open, revealing a collection of pans and utensils interspersed with miscellaneous junk.

“Hi, Mama,” she said in patient tones. “Of course, I’m all right. What could possibly have happened to me in the two hours since I last talked to you?” She listened a moment. “Because I was at the grocery store buying gallon jugs of Mr. Clean and boxes and boxes of plastic trash bags, that’s why. I told you I was going to the store. I’ll get a new cell phone tomorrow.”

While reassuring her mother that she hadn’t been mugged in the grocery store parking lot, Felicity cast her gaze around the kitchen. Had those cabinet doors popped open on their own?

“Yes, Mama. Don’t worry. I didn’t realize there was no cell coverage for my phone here. I’ll buy one tomorrow that has local coverage. In the meantime, this old landline still works fine.”

When she hung up the phone, she became aware of a peculiar odor in the house. Sniffing curiously, Felicity arrived at the bedroom door. She didn’t remember closing it, and it seemed a little difficult to push open.

The odor strengthened as the door swung open. Felicity stared toward the windows; the dusty window sills bore oval globs of a pearly-white substance. She looked down. An old towel had been rolled up and stuffed into the crack between the door and the floor. The small room was empty, but Felicity remained on the threshold, her scalp prickling. That odor had to be Elmer’s Glue. Grandma Lureen had left several large bottles of the stuff scattered around the house.

Felicity studied every detail of the room. Someone had glued her windows shut. Suddenly, she was glad Aaron was nearby … surely, he’d come to her aid if she screamed.

Emboldened, Felicity stepped into the room. There were squiggly white lines of Elmer’s Glue everywhere, as if someone had tried to seal up every crack in the floors or walls.

A muffled sneeze from the closet made her jump violently. She skittered back to the door, heart pounding madly. It took several seconds for Felicity’s brain to shift into gear. She laid her hand on the doorknob, pulled open the closet door, and looked into the frightened faces of two small boys armed for battle.

Each child held a saucepan lid in front of him like a shield, and wore the pan as a helmet. The older boy held a long-handled fork in a menacing fashion, while the younger clutched a kitchen fork. Both seemed oddly relieved to see Felicity peering down at them.

Suddenly, it all made sense.

“Hello, Pete. Good afternoon, Joey.” She smiled soothingly. “I’m glad the two of you came to pay me a visit, but why are you waiting in the closet?”

The older of the two boys, who couldn’t have been more than five, met Felicity’s friendly gaze with wide-eyed trust. “We’re hiding,” he said in a grave little voice.

“Yes, I can see that.” Felicity blinked in surprise. “Your — ” she wasn’t sure whether they were Aaron’s children or not, “ — relatives are very worried because they can’t find you. What are you hiding from?”

“The ghost.” The younger boy scrunched closer to his brother. “The ghost might get us.”

Great. On top of everything else, the house that was to be her temporary castle was haunted. Felicity sighed and mentally added “exorcist” to the list of repair people she was about to call.

“Welcome to Foxe, Felicity,” she said aloud.

Aaron hated to do it, but even he had to admit it was time to call the sheriff. Scowling ferociously, he headed back toward the house. His sister, Deborah Sachitano, ran to meet him.