The Trouble with Texas Cowboys (Burnt Boot, Texas #2)(9)

He opened two cartons to find big brown-speckled eggs. Sawyer pulled slice after slice of bacon from the thick stack and lined them up on the grill. The sizzle and the smell filled the bar, and Jill’s hungry stomach grumbled.

Polly patted her on the shoulder. She and Gladys had been sisters-in-law for more than fifty years, and Jill loved both of them.

She hugged Polly tightly. “I’m glad to be here. Did you hear about what happened at the bunkhouse?”

“Get up here on this stool beside me.” Polly motioned to her. “Gladys already told me about it. You be careful, girl. I swear them Brennans and Gallaghers are sneaky.”

“Yes, they are,” Sawyer agreed.

A granddaddy long-legged spider jumped from the bucket of peanuts on the bar in front of Polly and landed right on her nose. She squealed, swatted at it, and leaned backward. Everything happened in slow motion and yet too fast for Jill to do a blessed thing to help. She reached out to grab Polly, but all she got was a fistful of air.

“Well, Polly!” Gladys said.

Then there was a crack, and Jill thought the leg of the stool had broken when it hit the hard floor. But when she saw Polly’s ankle, she knew it was far worse.

“God, that hurts,” Polly said.

“It’s broken. Aunt Gladys, call 911 and get an ambulance,” Jill said.

“What can I do?” Sawyer was suddenly beside her, supporting Polly’s head with his big arms.

“Just hold her right there while I make a call. Don’t move, Polly. The bone isn’t out of the skin just yet, but it looks bad.” Gladys fished in her purse for her cell phone.

Sawyer jerked his out of his shirt pocket, hit 911, and handed it to Gladys. She talked to someone who assured her that an ambulance would be there in twenty minutes.

“I’m supposed to keep you right here, and you ain’t supposed to move a muscle,” Gladys said.

“Y’all could pick me up easy-like and load me in the backseat of my truck and take me to the hospital. Damned ambulance comin’ this far is going to cost a fortune.”

Gladys narrowed her eyes and said, “And if we dropped you and you got a worse break and gangrene set in and rotted your foot off?”

“Who’s going to take care of the bar?” Polly groaned.

“We’ve got two kids right here who can do that until you can walk again,” Gladys said.

“I can’t cook,” Jill said.

“I can cook.” Sawyer patted Polly’s hand. “Don’t you worry. We’ll hold down the fort until you are all better. I’ve done a little bartending in my day. It wasn’t an operation like this, but I know how to fill beer pitchers and make a few fancy drinks.”

“And I’ll take care of you. When you get released from the hospital, you can come to my house, and we’ll do just fine,” Gladys said.

“The store?” Jill whispered.

“I’ll take care of it in the morning while you do the ranch work, and then in the afternoons you can relieve me, just until Polly gets better. Can’t leave her all day by herself,” Gladys said.

“That’s doable,” Jill said.

They could hear the ambulance long before two big strapping men brought in a stretcher. They loaded her up, and Gladys glanced at Jill.

“Go with her,” Jill said. “Call us when you need a ride home or want us to bring anything to you. Keep us posted and, Aunt Gladys, don’t worry. Sawyer’s got the bar, and I’ve got the store. The ranchin’ part we might not do just like you do, but we’ll get it done.”

Gladys started out the door and turned around to say, “My cows are used to breakfast at eight. Don’t go spoiling them by giving it to them at six. You treat Fiddle Creek like it was your ranch and do whatever you see that needs done.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Sawyer said.





Chapter 3


A cold north wind whipped down the rolling hills of North Texas, creating music in the bare tree limbs as it rattled through them. After living right next to the Gulf of Mexico the past two years, in the balmy salt air and year-round pleasant weather, Jill could scarcely believe she was in the same state.

“It’s as different as the tropics and the North Pole,” she mumbled on her way from Gladys’s truck to the general store. According to the old wooden sign swinging between the two porch posts, the official name was The Burnt Boot General Store. But local folks referred to it as the store, just like they called The Burnt Boot Bar and Grill, the bar or else Polly’s place.

Jill hung her coat on the rack behind the counter and wandered through the store. It was good to see that some things never changed. The shelves were full and free of dust. The meat counter looked like something out of an old black-and-white movie, but the glass was sparkling clean, showing a display of pork chops, bacon, hamburger, steaks, and big thick roasts.

Her phone rang, and she grabbed for it. Gladys said they’d done preliminary work and decided that Polly would need surgery. They were taking her in right then, and with any luck, they would release her in a couple of days. Verdie, their other lifelong friend, had already come to the hospital and would bring Gladys home when the surgery was done, and Polly was settled into a private room.

Gladys sighed. “I’m sorry to unload all this on you, kiddo. Did Sawyer stay with you?”