The Trouble with Texas Cowboys (Burnt Boot, Texas #2)(48)

Sawyer listened with one ear and kept an eye open most of the time. Tilly didn’t seem to want or need any feedback. He wanted someone to listen, and Sawyer could do that and doze at the same time.

He awoke with a start when the wagon wheel fell into a hole, but Bessie brought them out of it with very little effort. Jill didn’t even move. She still had hay in her red hair, and her cheeks were rosy from the cold. Lashes rested on her cheekbones, and the sunlight brightened the few freckles sprinkled across her nose. The curve of her hip coming away from the tiny waist intrigued him. Tilly was right about her being a looker, but he didn’t have a damn thing to offer Jill Cleary. He’d saved enough money through the years to put a down payment on a small ranch, but banks were a lot stingier with loans in today’s economy than they had been in the past. Still, there was something about her that made him wish he had everything Quaid and Tyrell did, so he could give her what she deserved.

Two trucks passed them on the way into town, and both times they honked and waved, but neither stopped. If it was the feuding families who’d kidnapped them and stolen his truck, they evidently didn’t want to tangle with Tilly or his mule, either one.

He groaned. “My truck. I hadn’t thought about that. I’ll have to call the insurance company and the police as soon as I buy another cell phone.”

“What about your truck?” Tilly asked.

Sawyer filled him in on the story, and Tilly shook his head. “Them bastards. Get you a mule and a wagon. Don’t have too many people wantin’ to steal old Bessie, and if they did, she’d probably bite the shit out of them. She can be a mean-tempered old bitch when anyone crosses her. Well, would you look at that? You can see Gladys’s store. In another five minutes, old Bessie will have us pulled right up to the door.”

Jill pulled away from Sawyer and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “Are we almost there?”

“Just up ahead. Town sure looks dead, even for a Sunday. Ain’t seen but a couple of trucks since we left the holler. Did you get a little rest?” Tilly asked.

“I can’t believe I slept that long.” Jill rolled her head from side to side to get the kinks out. “Thank you for helping us, Tilly. It sure beat walking all morning.”

Tilly pulled the wagon up to the front door and hopped down off the wagon seat. “It’s dinner time. Reckon we might fix us up a bologna sandwich in the store before I start back?”

“I’ll fire up the cookstove and make you a steak, if you want it,” Jill said.

Tilly grinned as he held his hand up to help her down. “I got steak and pork at home. But it ain’t often I get a big old bologna sandwich.”

Jill put her hand in his. “With lettuce, tomatoes, pickles, onions, and mustard.”

“Now that’s a meal fit for a king,” Tilly said.

Sawyer jumped down from the back of the wagon and groaned when his knees protested the treatment they’d been given in the past twenty-four hours.

“Best heed the advice I gave you, son. You ain’t gettin’ no younger.” Tilly laughed.

Jill found the spare key inside a fake rock in the flowerpot beside the door. She opened the lock and swung the doors open to a warm store. On her way back to the meat department, where she fully intended to slice a couple of pounds of bologna to send home with Tilly, she removed her coat and hung it on the rack.

“What do you want, Sawyer?” she asked.

“Ham and cheese, mayo, and everything you’re putting on Tilly’s sandwich. I’ll get a bag of chips and some pickles, and we can eat at the checkout counter,” he answered.

“That’s a sissy sandwich,” Tilly said.

“Not if you eat more than one to prove you are a man. I’m having two for starters, and then maybe a half a bag of those chocolate doughnuts right there,” Sawyer told him.

“You want two?” Jill asked Tilly.

“Yes, ma’am. I reckon that would be right fine,” he answered. “And”—he winked at Sawyer—“maybe I’ll have some of them doughnuts too.”

“What are you drinking?” Sawyer headed for the cold soft-drink case.

“Root beer.” Tilly didn’t hesitate for a second. “This picnic gets better and better.”

Once Tilly started eating, he didn’t say another word. He enjoyed his food without conversation. When he finished, he leaned the chair back and propped his boots on the counter. “Well, now, this has been a profitable trip, yes it has. The company has been good, but it is time for me to get on down the road. Bessie will be expecting to get out of that harness come dusk, and she does get bitchy if she doesn’t get her way.”

“Flour, sugar, and what else?” Jill asked.

“Dinner has paid for the trip, but I will pick up supplies while I’m here,” Tilly said. “You ring it up, and I’ll pay for my purchases. I’ll start out with two pounds of bologna, sliced thick, and one of them big old ham bones for Otis. He’ll pout because he didn’t get to come along with us.”

He filled a cart and Jill conveniently forgot to ring up several of the items. When she totaled his bill, he slapped his leg and laughed out loud. “Young lady, I want you to check me out every time I come in here from now on. Don’t be thinkin’ that you pulled the wool over an old man’s eyes. I had the bill figured, along with the tax, before you ever keyed in the first bag of flour. But thank you, and if you ever need a ride out of the holler again, you come on down to my place. Me and Bessie will take good care of you. Sawyer O’Donnell, you remember what I told you.”