Caroline Burnes - Familiar Texas

Hank’s hands rubbed gently up her back as she sobbed against him. She was bitterly angry and guilty and sad. The emotions ruled her, and she cried, soaking the front of Hank’s shirt. When the tears finally stopped, she stepped back and shook her head. “I’m so sorry. I don’t even know you.”

“We both loved them. I can’t tell you the times Em made coffee for me, just like you were doing. If you hadn’t started crying, I probably would have.”

His words were unreasonably comforting. Stephanie finished setting up the coffee and turned on the pot. She took a seat at the table, her aunt’s place, and saw the recognition in Hank’s eyes.

“I know you came here for a reason, but can I ask one question first?”

“Sure.”

He’d made his face expressionless. She wondered what he thought she was going to ask. “Were Uncle Albert and Aunt Em happy?”

The smile that spread across his face was instantaneous. “They were lucky people, in many ways. They loved each other and they were a team on this ranch. Albert worked and Em worked right beside him. I was lucky to see those two together. I always thought that kind of partnership was a lot of romantic sh—hooey. But it was real with them. Albert would go out to check the cows and long about noon, I’d see this horse coming in the distance and it would be Em. She’d have a picnic lunch packed for everyone. How she knew where to find us, I can’t say.”

“You worked with Uncle Albert?”

“We worked together. He had good hands, but a ranch can’t run under a hired hand. He knew that. I had the same problem, so after the hands were through for the day, we often ended up finishing together.”

“Did they…” She faltered. “Did they miss me too much?”

His face softened. “They talked about you all the time. About how you could live in any world you chose. They wanted you to come home, but only if that was your choice.”

“I should have come home,” she said, feeling the pressure of another bout of tears.

“Not unless the ranch was the life you want to live.” He reached across the table and touched her hand. “Stephanie, this is a hard life. The stock and the ranch always come first. If you aren’t willing to make that choice, you don’t need to try to live it. Your folks knew that.”

They both heard the screened door slam and they sat back. Rodney walked into the house. “The snakes are buried, but I have to say that ground is baked harder than a brick.”

Stephanie rose to get him coffee. “Mr. Dalton found the hole in the screen.” It felt odd calling him something other than Hank, especially with a huge dark stain on his blue shirt where her tears had soaked him.

“Rodney, I think someone cut the screen and put the snakes in the house.”

“Who would do such a thing?” Rodney eased into a chair, worry on his face.

“Good question. Who’s been around here lately?”

“The real estate man was here. He had a key to the house. Johnny Benton came around yesterday, with his wife. They said they’d come to tidy the house in case folks came out here. Someone had to get the clothes for Albert and Em.” He looked stricken at the pain that crossed Stephanie’s face. “Sorry, Ms. Stephanie.”

She put a hand on his shoulder. “Not your fault, Rodney. It’s my fault that strangers had to pick out my folks’ funeral clothes.”

Disapproval crossed Hank’s face, followed by sorrow. He started to say something, then closed his mouth.

“I’ll give you a hand patching the hole. Then we’d better check the rest of the house.”

“If there was another snake, Familiar would have warned us.”

Hank let a chuckle escape. “A snake cat. Now I’ve seen it all.”

“Familiar is a lot more than that,” Stephanie said, and she finally felt the darkness shift from her heart. “He’s a detective.”

“Like a private eye?” Rodney was laughing.

“Exactly. And I’ve hired him to look into the murder of my aunt and uncle.”

Rodney paled. “Murder? It was an accident. That building collapsed on them.”

A heavy silence settled on the table. Rodney sipped his coffee. “It was sort of strange,” he said at last. “Not a cloud in the sky.”

“What time did it happen?”

“About 1:30 in the afternoon.” Rodney frowned. “Em normally wasn’t outside at that time, but she musta gone to help Albert with that old tractor. It was giving him fits. We’d all gone up to the Twisty Creek pasture to ride the north fences. There’d been a lot of trouble with someone cutting the wire.”

Stephanie kept her face carefully blank. “How long had that been going on?”

“About four weeks,” Hank answered. “They were cutting the fence between the Running Z and McCammon. Just about every other day we’d have to separate the herds. It was becoming very annoying.”

“Did you ever catch who was doing it?”

“We never could get ’em. We found some tire tracks and the sheriff sent out a deputy to make a mold, but we never heard a thing about it. ’Course Albert and Em were killed…” His sentence trailed off.

He didn’t have to finish. No one was interested in catching fence vandals after the tragedy of a double death. Stephanie felt Hank’s gaze on her, and she stared at him. His eyes were as green as a winter rye pasture, set perfectly in his rugged face. His dark hair contrasted with his tanned skin, completed with a straight nose and lips that made her think of the pleasures of kissing.

“I’ll check with the sheriff and see what he matched with those molds,” she said, clearing the thoughts of Hank from her mind.

“Rodney, we still have a few hours of light. Why don’t we ride those fences?” Hank asked.

“Sure thing. To be honest, I’d be glad of the company. Not much cause to check the fences now, though. The cows are gone.”

Hank’s smile was lopsided. “That’s right. The only harm would be that my cows could get some water from Twisty Creek.”

Stephanie realized then what he’d come to ask her. “Hank, you’re welcome to the creek and the pasture until I get Uncle Al—my cows back.” She saw his eyebrows lift at her emphasis. “But you might still want to ride that fence. We need to collect evidence, and the wind coming up this evening might destroy it.”

“Let’s search the house and get busy,” Hank said. He put his coffee cup in the sink and headed through the dining room with Rodney.

The door closed behind them and Stephanie began to clean up the kitchen. Through the closed door, she heard Rodney’s voice.

“She’s smart and she’s pretty, Hank. Wonder why she ain’t married?”

THE HOUSE HAD BEEN FREE of additional snakes. Only the black cat had been found, asleep, in the bedroom that had to be Stephanie’s. The room had been done in pale ivory eyelet lace, the carpet a dark beige. It reflected a certain sophistication, even for the nineteen-year-old girl who’d lived in it. The pale blond furniture would not be the taste of most young girls, and Hank realized it even as he lifted the dust ruffle and checked under the bed. An old pair of cowboy boots caught his eye and he pulled them out. They were well-worn, the heels rounded and the toes scuffed. He put them back and turned to the closet.

Several formal gowns reflected high school dates and glory. He moved a few abandoned pairs of shoes and determined the closet was empty of snakes.

“Meow.”

He turned to find the black cat watching him. He didn’t believe a word that Stephanie had said about the cat’s detective agency, but he found the feline’s stare unsettling. It was as if the cat were assessing him. Maybe that was just a cat’s personality. He was a dog man—no use for sleeping critters too lazy to even catch a mouse.