The Trouble with Texas Cowboys (Burnt Boot, Texas #2)(53)

Gladys stuck her hand into her pocket and brought out a telephone. “Polly, don’t you eat any more of those cookies. Sawyer made spaghetti, and I’m bringing you a plate. The kids are fine, but I’ve got a hell of a story to tell you.”

A pause and a couple of nods. “No, it’s too juicy to tell over the phone, and, yes, I’ll be there in the next fifteen minutes.”

She hit a button and shoved the phone back in her pocket. “Reckon I’ll wrap up my plate too. She says if I don’t get back, she’s going to eat the whole bag of cookies, worryin’ about what I won’t tell her on the phone.”

“I’ll get it ready,” Jill said.

“What should we do now?” Sawyer asked Gladys.

“Go on like nothing happened, and see what comes crawlin’ out of the woodpile.”

“I’d rather set fire to both ranches,” Jill said.

“Nope, Fiddle Creek might suffer, since it’s in the middle of them,” Gladys said. “Thanks for supper, and I’ll see y’all tomorrow.”





Chapter 17


Jill could not put her finger on it or figure it out, but the relationship had risen to a new level between her and Sawyer since they’d bared their souls the day before. Maybe it was what soldiers face in near-death experiences when one saves another’s life. But whatever it was, she kind of liked it.

He’d been quieter, had a lot less to say or joke about, and now he was back there in the meat department, cleaning the saw like the health inspectors were due to come look at the store that very day.

The store was empty, and the shelves were dusted, the floor swept, the carts lined up, and the front glass washed on the inside. It was so cold outside that if she sprayed cleaner on that side, it would freeze before it hit the glass. She pulled her tablet out of her purse, hit the right button to bring it up, and went straight to her favorite site for a little retail therapy. She might not actually buy boots or a new bit of bling, but she’d look at it, and maybe that would help her sour mood.

An advertisement for a brand-new spice for chicken wings popped up on the side bar, and that’s what gave her the idea. She quickly went to another site that promised overnight shipping if she was willing to pay for it, and she decided it was well worth the cost. She pulled the charge box up from under the counter and wrote the addresses for River Bend and Wild Horse on the edge of a scrap of paper.

The first order was for a case of pork rinds. She carefully checked the box that said it was a gift and not to send any information concerning price or sender to the recipient. On the gift card she wrote “Oink! Oink!” and signed it “Porky Pig.” That little prize went to River Bend to the attention of Mavis Brennan.

The second order was for three bags of Chicken Chips doggy treats. The gift card said, “For the Gallagher Bitches” and was signed “Chicken Little.” That present went to Naomi Gallagher at Wild Horse Ranch.

Guaranteed delivery by eight o’clock the following evening. She’d entered the pig war, and it put a smile on her face.

“Well, well, it smiles,” Sawyer said.

“This from a man who’s hardly spoken to me all day,” she said.

“Hey, you started off the day real quiet.”

“So did you,” she shot back.

The bell rang as the door swung open, and there was Quaid Brennan standing there with a shoe box in his hands. He looked downright sheepish, holding a Prada shoe box with the price still written right there on the end. Jill hoped he could take them back, because she damn sure didn’t wear a size nine narrow. She wore a six wide. He’d have done much better if he’d brought in a Lucchese box, and he’d have spent a hell of a lot less money to boot, pun intended.

He set the box on the countertop. “I brought you a present. I heard that you had a mouse or two in the bunkhouse over on Fiddle Creek.”

“And I’m supposed to catch them in this box? You want to explain the procedure to me?” Jill could feel the ice in her voice, but dammit, he was a Brennan.

“Open it,” he said.

She flipped the lid open, and a little gray kitten looked up at her with big green eyes. She picked it up and the purring began immediately.

“Kinsey’s mama cat had babies, and this little girl looked like a good mouser to me.” Quaid smiled.

“Thank you. I’ll take good care of her.” Jill cuddled it up against her face and talked baby talk to the critter.

“I’m glad you like her. Maybe I’ll give you a call later this week, and we can plan something for Sunday?” Quaid said.

“Sawyer and I had plans for yesterday that got interrupted, so we’ll be real busy next Sunday while we make up time. But thank you for the kitten,” she said.

Quaid blushed. “Well, then maybe the next week. See you at Polly’s sometime.”

He was gone before Jill could say another word.

Sawyer reached over and scratched the kitten’s ears. “Did you see the expression on his face? We might not be able to prove it, but we were right. That was the face of a kidnapper, right there.”

“You want to hold her?” she asked.

“No, you go on and spoil her. It’s your cat. What are you going to name her?”

“Ollie,” she said quickly.