The Counterfeit Cowgirl (9 page)

“Now, baby,” Becky said. “The poor man is sorry as can be. I always admire a man who stays and faces the music instead of turnin’ tail like that coward of a Gary Carlisle you were so sweet on. Besides, it’s perfectly clear to me that you had some kinda silly idea in your head about provin’ you could ride a horse.”

“Guess I’ll have to sue you myself,” Felicity muttered, miming disappointment.

Aaron grinned appreciatively and marked the name of Gary Carlisle for future reference.

Now that he saw the two women together, there was no doubt Felicity was Becky’s daughter. They both had slender faces with identical large brown eyes, although Becky’s wiry brown hair had been bleached and hennaed into a spectacular red-gold color. Aaron decided he preferred Felicity’s natural color.

He looked again at Felicity. Even lying on the sofa with an ice pack on her forehead, she drew his attention. What really got him was that he’d hardly even looked at a woman in the past unless she was a blue-eyed blonde who hung upon his every word.

He was definitely in trouble. If he had any sense, he’d bow out now and leave Becky Lozano in charge of her daughter’s recovery. He didn’t need this impossible attraction on top of everything else going on in his life.

“Law.” Becky leaned back and swigged more chamomile tea. “What a day. I just knew she was hiding somethin’ from her mama, so I told my manager, I said, Chester, I’ve got to go see about my baby. And he was understandin’ about it. He really, really was.” She gulped more tea then set the empty cup aside. “But I ain’t gonna make it back to Dallas tonight. My baby’s health is more important.”

Felicity shoved herself up. The ice pack slid off her forehead. “Mama, you’re not going to stay here if you’re supposed to be doing a concert in Dallas. I’m perfectly fine. Just a trifle shaken up, that’s all.”

Becky leaped up and replaced the ice pack. She pressed Felicity back down on the sofa. “I’m the mama around here, and I say I ain’t goin’ nowhere while my baby needs me.”

“Mama, I’m all right.”

“Don’t you lie to me, Felicity Clayton. I’m stayin’ right here until I’m sure you ain’t had no concussion like you did last time.” She sat down on the edge of the sofa and stroked Felicity’s cheek. “I know you want to be up and doin’, and when I look at this place, I can see why. That crazy old woman turned it into a regular pigsty. I told you she would.”

“When I get through with this house, it’ll be a model country cottage.”

“Law.” Becky cast a doubtful look around. “I guess writin’ nasty letters to the president of the United States and all the congressmen didn’t leave her much time for cleanin’ house.”

Aaron had to admit that this summed up Lureen Tucker’s life quite succinctly. He might as well find out the rest of what had puzzled him for the past few years.

“Who is Fenton Mills?” he asked.

Becky looked at him in her straightforward way. “Fenton is my mother’s brother. My uncle, in other words, but nobody knows that, and we’d both kinda like to keep it that way. Fenton never wanted her to know where he lived, ’cause she probably would’ve got him fired from his job. She was like that.”

“I see.” Aaron remembered that Lureen’s rambling talk had been filled with righteous statements about her relatives’ evil natures.

“My baby here, when she inherited the trust her daddy left for her, she thought that if we bought my mama a house far away from Nashville and gave her money to stay in it, we’d all be a lot happier.” Becky rolled her eyes. “And she was right. We were. I could concentrate on my career without worryin’ about Mama lyin’ to reporters about my personal life.” Becky brooded a moment. “She can call me a scarlet woman all she wants, but when she starts attackin’ my baby … ”

Aaron recalled a great many rambling comments about stages and scarlet women Lureen made, statements so general, he had never connected them with anyone. The remarks about her greedy granddaughter, however, had hit him hard, especially when the flashy, brown-eyed cowgirl had arrived to take possession within a week of Lureen’s death.

“Wasn’t till my baby bought her this house and put her in it that I was able to develop my career,” Becky said.

Aaron knew enough about Becky’s history to know this was true. She had been on the fringe of the country scene for almost twenty years. About five years ago, she had literally burst into the forefront, passing up the eager, younger singers with her powerful, gut-wrenching songs.

“’Course it helped when my little girl bought me a bus and helped me hire a first-class band,” Becky said, grinning. “Just goes to show you — when you raise your babies right, they don’t mind doin’ things for you.” She laughed her powerful, throaty laugh. “Either that, or they’re tryin’ to find a nice way to make you quit smotherin’ ’em.”

Aaron glanced at Felicity, grinning.

Felicity covered her face with the ice pack. “If that’s what I was trying to do, it sure didn’t work, did it?”

“No, baby,” Becky said tenderly. “You’re just too soft-hearted to get tough and tell your mama to butt out.”

The telephone rang. Becky shoved herself out of the sheet-covered chair and picked up her empty cup. “Drink that tea, baby. And keep that ice pack on your head.”

The moment Becky left the room, Felicity sat up and removed the ice pack. She reached for the tea sitting beside her and gulped half the cup before she faced Aaron.

“You’d better go now, before Mama comes back,” she said, replacing the tea cup with trembling hands.

“I’d better stick around,” Aaron said. “If I’m not here to defend myself, she might change her mind about suing me.”

“Look, if you’ll go now, I promise I won’t let her sue you. She’s got to get to Dallas and do that show.”

He put on a thoughtful expression. “I can help — ”

“Felicity Clayton, you get back on that couch,” Becky bellowed from the kitchen. She stood as close to the door as the telephone cord allowed. “Now, you listen to me, Chester. My baby needs me, and you’re just goin’ to have to explain that to the folks. They’ll understand. They know how I feel about my baby.”

Felicity struggled to rise to a standing position.

Aaron came to her side instantly and lifted her to her feet, then kept a supportive hand beneath her elbow.

“Look, Mama, I’m fine. I want you getting back on that highway right now so you can sing tonight for the fans.”

“I ain’t goin’.” Becky covered the receiver with one hand and regarded Felicity with concern. “You don’t look so good, baby.”

“I’m fine, Mama. Really. That ice pack of yours froze all the color out of my face.”

While Felicity argued with her mother, Aaron concentrated on her. She was still pale and shaky, which worried him to no end. Maybe he ought to drive her to the community hospital for a thorough check-over.

On the other hand, there was nothing wrong with her brain or her tongue. Once more, Aaron cursed himself for being so totally blind to her fear of horses. Ordinarily, he detected nuances of people’s behavior, but he had been so annoyed with Felicity and the situation in general that he had ignored any signs.

Resolving to think about that later, Aaron considered how best to help Felicity now. It was obvious Felicity cared as much about her mother’s career as Becky did and wasn’t about to let Becky disappoint her fans.

“You don’t have to worry about a thing, Ms. Lozano,” Aaron said. “My sister and I will be more than happy to lend your daughter our guest room for the night. I’ll keep an eye on her personally.”

Becky looked at him, and Aaron returned her stare. He had the feeling that Becky’s gaze had turned into a powerful scanning microscope trained on his very soul.

“That’s mighty thoughtful of you, Mr. Whitaker,” Becky said slowly.

“Call me Aaron.” He noticed that her thick, Kentucky-mountain accent had become much less noticeable, and a smile twitched his mouth.

Becky uncovered the telephone receiver, her gaze fixed on Aaron’s mouth, and said, “Chester, I’ll be there. Just stand by till I tell you what airfield I’m comin’ in on.” She hung up. “Maybe you’d better call me Becky. You’re interested in my accent.”

“Your accent is charming,” Aaron said. “My problem was that I couldn’t quite figure out which part of the country you hailed from.”

Becky threw her head back and laughed. “That’s because I use a little bit of everything. I was born in Hoover, Kentucky, and I’ve played every honky-tonk in the South. This voice came from Kentucky, Tennessee, Texas, and Alabama, with a little bit of Cajun tossed in for spice. Law, I’m glad I met you. I ain’t told anybody that in years.”

“Why tell him?” Felicity muttered. “He might sell the story to some tabloid tomorrow.”

“Now, baby, he don’t need none of my money,” Becky said soothingly. Her sharp, brown gaze scanned her daughter knowingly. “Besides, the way I’ve been talkin’ half out of my head today, he’s got a lot more than that he could tell a tabloid if he wanted to. Ain’t none of ’em ever got hold of the true story about my mama.”

“That’s because everybody has a crazy relative or two,” Felicity said. “Let’s call the airport. If you’re going to make Dallas in time for your concert tonight, you’ll have to leave shortly.”

Becky jerked on the phone cord, disgusted. “Law, I thought nobody had an ol’ dialin’ phone like this anymore. Where’s the phone book? I’ll bet she used the pages from it to light the stove the way she used to when I was a kid.”

“I picked one up at the Chamber of Commerce yesterday, Mama.” Felicity presented the book.

“That li’l ol’ thing is a phone book?”

“It’s a growing city, Mama.”

“Law.” Becky riffled through the pages. “Are you sure there’s enough people around here so you can sell this house?”

“There’s a new chemical plant going up nearby. Somebody will buy it.”

Becky muttered, but she found a number and dialed. “Let’s hope so. I’d hate for you to lose all the money you spent on this place, just to help out your poor mama.”

“Not to worry, Mama.” Felicity pulled out one of the rickety kitchen chairs and sat down. “I’ll bet I can sell enough cowgirl outfits to the ladies around here to make up the difference.”

Aaron had seen salespeople like Felicity before. They never worried about losing their jobs. They simply went out and got another one, secure in their own ability to sell.

He tested one of the chairs and decided against it. Lureen left those chairs outside to hold her screwball political posters for weeks on end. The weather had not been kind to them.

Becky booked a flight to Dallas and replaced the telephone regretfully. “I’ll have to leave in an hour, but before I do, let’s have a look around for those songs of mine. I don’t suppose you’ve turned up any sign of them?” She looked hopefully at Felicity.

“No, but it’s early days yet. I told you, I’m going to sort through every single piece of paper in the place. If they’re here, I’ll find them.”

“You’re looking for some songs you wrote?” Aaron asked, astonished.

So that was why Felicity had come here. Chagrin heated his face.

“Law, yes,” Becky said, shaking her head. “I — ” She broke off, breathing hard. Her fists clenched. “Johnny — my husband, Johnny Clayton — was the first person ever to believe in me. We were so much in love, and I was pregnant with our baby. Those songs were the best work I’ve ever done in my life. They were written ’specially for him and for my baby.” Two big tears rolled down her cheeks. “That crazy old woman stole them because she couldn’t stand that I was happy.”

“Now, Mama, don’t think about it,” Felicity said. “If she hid them here in this house, I’ll find them. The minute I do, I’ll call you.”

Aaron realized the two women were best friends besides being mother and daughter. Becky would kill to protect her baby, and it was obvious enough that Felicity, in spite of her understandable desire for independence, was Becky’s chief comfort and supporter.

Becky collapsed into one of the chairs, which wobbled alarmingly, and put her face in her hands. “I’ll never forgive her for that. Never. Johnny got killed, and my whole world just collapsed.” More tears rolled down her cheeks. “I could never recreate those songs unless I could
feel
them again. They’re lost forever.”

“Mama, they’re here somewhere.” Felicity rushed to hug her mother. “You know what a packrat she was. Now, don’t worry anymore. I’ll find them.”

Becky turned into her daughter’s embrace. “I know you’ll try, baby. But all the same — Hey!” The chair collapsed. Since Becky’s arms were around Felicity’s neck, Felicity tumbled to the floor with her.

Felicity sat up, laughing, and watched Aaron gently lift Becky to her feet. Then he reached for her. Felicity looked away, flushing slightly, and pretended not to see his hand while she struggled to rise on her own.

Becky brushed off her form-fitting jeans. “Law, this ol’ furniture has got to go. Well, Aaron, you’d better help my little girl up while I go pack her a night case. Sure makes me feel better, knowing you’re next door here to look out for her.” She smiled blandly at her red-faced daughter. “This sure ain’t Nashville, baby, but I guess it’ll do for a while.”

Felicity dragged her brown hair into a thick ponytail. She wore an ancient t-shirt and a pair of shorts in preparation for a day of major housecleaning, but she was so stiff, she could hardly bend over. She crept into the crowded living room and reached for the shade covering the window facing the Whitaker spread. The shade flew out of her hand and rolled up with a loud rattle, and a blast of bright sunlight struck her eyes.

She studied Aaron’s smooth, manicured lawn with jealousy and tried to feel happy not to catch a glimpse of him. After all, she had managed to shut the door on him the day before, the minute Becky’s rented car had disappeared down the road. Not even an indignant telephone call from Becky later that night could coerce her to spend the night at his house.

To his credit, Aaron had accepted her decision with good grace and sent his sister, accompanied by his two chocolate Labrador retrievers, over with a tray of hot food. Felicity had lacked the heart to refuse the food.

“Are you sure you won’t spend the night with us?” Deborah had asked. “Aaron is on the phone right now with your mother. She’s very concerned.”