Trouble in Texas (26 page)

“You can’t go runnin’ off half cocked, Lizzie.”

Elizabeth ignored her and pulled a pair of scissors from the top drawer. But before
she could snip the curler free, Minnie reached up and grabbed her hand.

“Sit down, Elizabeth,” she said. Since it was the first time Minnie had used her given
name, Elizabeth found herself listening. Still, she only perched on the edge of the
bed as Minnie tried to work the curler free. She was gentler than Elizabeth had expected.
Although her next words hurt more than if she had ripped the chunk of hair out by
the roots.

“Brant doesn’t want to be with you right now. If he did, he would be here. Normally,
I’d call him a chicken-livered bastard for breaking his date with you, but sometimes
there are good excuses for bad behavior. And I’d say that the fear of losing your
brother is a pretty damned good one. Especially for a man who loves his family as
much as Brant does.” She paused. “But that doesn’t mean he won’t need you later on.”

Tears welled up in Elizabeth’s eyes, and not from the gentle tugs on her scalp. “He
won’t need me later,” she said. “In fact, I’ll be surprised if I ever see him again.”

She waited for Minnie to deny her words. Instead she only confirmed them.

“You might be right.” She gently worked to free the curler. “Men can bring a lot of
joy to a woman’s life. They can also bring a lot of sorrow—and sometimes, unrelenting
pain. Which is exactly what happened to your mama.”

“My father?” Elizabeth asked.

“No, your father was just an asshole. I’m talking about that bastard Dwayne Connor.”

Uncaring of the pressure on her scalp, Elizabeth turned and looked at Minnie. “Dwayne
Connor? Who is that?”

Minnie handed Elizabeth the curler and then rolled her chair back a few inches. “Dwayne
Connor was your mother’s first crush. A no-good, two-bit criminal who preyed on the
innocence of a seventeen-year-old girl.” She nodded at Elizabeth. “Your mama was a
lot like you. She spent most of her time in the library at Miss Hattie’s, reading
books and dreaming. Then one day, she starts wearing makeup and dresses, and I figure
she’s found herself a beau.” Tears filled Minnie’s eyes. “We just didn’t realize
it was a man six years her senior until after he’d taken her out on a date and raped
her.”

Elizabeth tried to take a deep breath, but she couldn’t seem to fill her lungs. “So
that’s why she left the henhouse?”

Minnie nodded. “I think she blamed it and the hens as much as she blamed Dwayne.”

“Did she press charges?”

“No,” Minnie said. “But that didn’t mean he didn’t get exactly what he had coming
to him. We hens watch out for each other.”

Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “You shot him?”

“No, but I would’ve liked to. Right where it counts. Instead I just had every law
enforcement officer in west Texas keepin’ an eye on him. It didn’t take long for Dwayne
to do something stupid. He robbed a bank in Big Springs and took a pot shot at the
sheriff. Turned out the sheriff was a better shot.” She searched through the side
pocket on her wheelchair and scowled. “Darn fool man, taking my cigarettes.”

“So that’s why she hates men,” Elizabeth whispered under her breath. “And I guess
my father leaving her didn’t help matters.”

“No, I’m sure it didn’t.” Minnie moved closer and took her hands. “But excuses are
like assholes; everyone’s got one. And what happened to your mama doesn’t excuse what
she did to you, Elizabeth. She had no right to put her fears and mistrust on you.
People aren’t perfect, and some are more imperfect than others. But we can’t give
up on the entire race because of the actions of one. Brant might not ever call you.
And you might meet another man, and he could hurt you as well. That doesn’t mean you
just give up on living. I can tell you, life is much too short to waste it on fear.”

The women stayed the night with Elizabeth, refusing to leave her even when she tried
to convince them that she would be all right. She had to admit that there was something
comforting about having the house filled to the brim with hens, although Minnie snored
so loudly that Elizabeth got very little sleep. At around five o’clock, she gave up
and tiptoed through the living room past a sleeping Starlet, who snored even louder
than Minnie.

The early morning air was colder than she expected. She started to head back inside
for a jacket when she noticed Sunshine sitting cross-legged on the front step of the
porch.

“It’s too cold to be out here, Sunshine,” she said. “Why don’t you come on back inside
where it’s warm?”

Sunshine didn’t turn around. “I’m not dumb, you know. I know if I’m cold or not. And
I’m not cold.”

Elizabeth eased the door closed behind her. “I know you’re not dumb. You know things
that I’ll never know.”

Sunshine looked back at her. “Like what?”

“Well,” Elizabeth sat down in the wicker rocker, “you knew how to bandage Brant’s
wound. And you’re good at massages. And I could never bend like that, or dance with
feather fans.”

“The fan dance is easy. Anyone can learn to do it if they have a teacher like your
grandmother.”

Elizabeth leaned back in the chair. “I’ve heard that she was quite an amazing woman.”

“She wouldn’t have lost a good-looking man once she had him, that’s for sure.” Sunshine
turned back around and stretched her arms over her head.

Elizabeth smiled. “No, she wouldn’t have. Was she as beautiful as Miss Hattie?”

Sunshine glanced over her shoulder and studied her with clear, innocent eyes. “No.
You look more like Miss Hattie.”

If she hadn’t worried about Sunshine’s feelings, she would’ve laughed. Instead, she
wrapped her arms around herself and rocked back and forth in the chair. After a while,
the sun peeked over the horizon, spreading a layer of orange marmalade on the roofs
of the houses across the street. She had spent most of the night listening to Minnie’s
snores and thinking about everything that she had learned in the last few hours—Beau’s
cancer and what had happened to her mother. Now her mind took a break and just enjoyed
the view.

“We won’t be able to stay, will we?” Sunshine finally spoke.

Elizabeth lifted her head from the back of the rocker. “What?”

“Now that Beau is gone, we’ll have to leave the henhouse.”

Elizabeth had so many things cluttering her brain that she hadn’t given much thought
to what Beau’s leaving meant to the henhouse. Now that he was sick, it was doubtful
that he would want to finish the renovations and reopen it. And Brant had never been
interested in the house for anything besides answers about his grandfather’s death.

Which meant that Sunshine was right. The hens would have to move.

Elizabeth was surprised at how upset the thought made her, especially when no more
than a few weeks ago she was the one who had wanted the hens out. But that was before
she had come to know the three women. Before
Starlet had arrived. Before she had heard all the stories about her ancestors. Before
she realized that Minnie was right; the henhouse wasn’t just a whorehouse.

It was her heritage.

The sun finally crested over the roofs, spilling onto the porch and warming the chill
from her cheeks.

“No one is leaving the henhouse, Sunshine,” Elizabeth said. “Us hens have to stick
together.”

C
ANCER OR NO,
Brant was going to kill Beau.

It had taken Brant a good five weeks to locate his brother. Five weeks of hell where
he hadn’t been able to concentrate on anything but the image of Beau wasting away
in some seedy hotel room. Except that the cocky cowboy who stood on the railing of
the rodeo chute didn’t look like he was wasting away. He looked as virile and healthy
as the huge Brahma bull that slammed against the railing beneath his boots.

While Brant watched in disbelief, Beau secured his cowboy hat and settled down on
the bull’s back.

“Tonight we’re lucky enough to have a new rider,” the announcer’s voice echoed around
the high ceiling of the indoor arena. “Hope you folks will give a warm welcome to
Beau Cates, who will be riding Pissed Off.”

Pissed Off?

Oh, Brant was pissed off, all right. He was so spitting mad he could hardly see straight.
He shoved his way through the group crowded against the railing next to the chutes,
not even realizing they were young women until one spoke.

“I’d like to be his first ride,” a blonde in a bright pink shirt gushed.

“Who wouldn’t?” another said. “Did you see his hair? High ho, Silver.” She waved her
cowboy hat over her head.

The gaggle of girls giggled and pushed closer to the railing. Realizing he wasn’t
going to make it through the rodeo groupies in time, Brant gave up and yelled over
their heads.

“Beauregard!”

Beau stopped adjusting the bull rope around his hand and looked up. He registered
surprise before a smile eased over his face.

“Come to watch the show, Big Bro?”

The crowd of girls shifted as they turned to look at Brant. He took the opportunity
given him to move closer to the rail. “Quit messing around and get your ass off that
animal. Now!”

Beau’s smile got even bigger. “No can do. But I wouldn’t worry too much. I only plan
on staying on for a few seconds. Eight to be exact.”

“Beauregard,” Brant said, but the warning had barely hissed through his gritted teeth
before Beau nodded and the gate flew open.

The eight seconds Beau had mentioned seemed more like eight hours. Time slowed to
a heart-stopping drip that had Brant gripping the cold railing in his hands as he
watched his brother try to stay on the kicking, twisting beast.

Beau surprised him. Instead of being bucked off as soon as the bull was released from
the pen, he continued to hold on. And not just hold on, but actually resemble a pro
bull rider. With each high-kick of the bull, Beau’s back arched, his legs gripped
the bull’s sides, and one hand waved above
his head. The buzzer went off, but Brant couldn’t release his breath until Beau was
safely on the ground.

It happened in a blink. One second, Beau was riding, and the next, he was sailing
through the air. He landed with a bone-crushing thump right beneath where Brant stood.
Brant’s heart skipped a beat until Beau jumped to his feet, flashing a smile and a
wave at the cheering crowd.

Unfortunately, the bull wasn’t as happy. It whirled around and came directly at Beau
with horns lowered. Without thinking, Brant grabbed onto the railing and catapulted
down into the clumped dirt of the arena. His landing attracted the bull’s attention,
and the animal swung in his direction. He braced for the hit, but before he went flying
over the bull’s horns, a rodeo clown flapped a red silk hankie in front of the crazed
animal’s eyes. The bull turned toward the new distraction. The other clowns helped
out, and soon the bull was directed back toward the holding pens, the gate slamming
closed behind him.

Beau picked up his hat and dusted it off on his thigh. “Now that is what I call fun.”

It took all three rodeo clowns to pull Brant off his brother.

“Damn, Brant,” Beau said as he pressed the bag of ice that the bartender had given
him to his nose. “I think you broke it.”

Brant took another drink from the long-necked bottle. “You’re lucky I didn’t break
every bone in your body.”

“Too late.” Beau rolled his shoulder. “I think Pissed Off might’ve beaten you to it.
That was one ornery bull.” He lowered the ice pack and looked at Brant through the
eye that wasn’t swollen shut. “I would’ve gotten out of
the way, Brant. That was one of the first lessons I learned from you—steer clear of
trouble.”

“Then what the hell were you doing on the back of that bull?”

“Living.”

“Well, if you keep that shit up,” Brant said, “you won’t be living for long.”

Beau paused, the beer bottle inches from his mouth. “I might not be anyway.”

The words took the last of the anger out of Brant, and the hopeless despair that he’d
been living with for the last month returned. He should be used to the feeling. It
had been his constant companion for years—after Buckley had died, then years later
when Mandy and B.J. were killed. But somehow, this time it seemed worse. The news
that Beau’s cancer had returned had completely broadsided Brant, leaving him frustrated
and angry. And so scared that his hand shook as he drained the last of the beer.

It was his own fault. He had let down his guard. Had started to believe that his luck
had changed. That happiness was within his reach. But it had all been an illusion.
There would be no happy ending for him.

Or, it seemed, for his little brother.

That’s what tore Brant up the most. He might be able to jump in front of a pissed
off bull and save Beau, but there was no way to jump in front of a disease. All he
could do was sit back and watch as his brother got trampled.

The bartender brought over two more beers and set them down. “Those two young ladies
at the end of the bar would like to buy you fellas a couple drinks.”

Brant glanced down the bar at the two women in the short jean skirts and boots. They
waggled their fingers at
him. He acknowledged them with a tip of his head before declining the beers.

“Tell them thanks, but we can’t stay.” As the bartender left with the two beers, Brant
slipped off the stool. “We need to be going. I called Doctor Thornton while the rodeo
doc was checking you out and told him to meet us at the hospital.”

Beau smiled at the women before turning back to Brant. “Maybe you weren’t interested,
but I was. And when are you going to figure out that I’m not the baby brother who
used to follow you around everywhere you went? I’m a big boy now, Brant. And I’m not
going to any hospital.”

For a second, Brant thought about grabbing Beau by the back of the shirt and physically
dragging him out. But then common sense prevailed, and he set his hat back down on
the bar and took a seat.