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HONKY-TONK COWBOY
By Barri Bryan
© copyright by Billie and Herb Houston, Oct. 2000 Cover Art by Eliza Black New Concepts Publishing Lake Park, GA. 31636 www.newconceptspublishing.com
Chapter One
Headlines emblazoned across the front page of The Daily Clarion struck Sarah Scott with the force of a bullet fired at close range. JOHN MARKUM RELEASED FROM HUNTSVILLE PRISON. The paper slid from her fingers and fell to the floor.
"John's out of prison?" A cold shiver traveled down her spine, and lodged in the pit of her stomach. "I should have been notified. After I
begged the parole board not to let him go." Her frightened gaze turned toward the young woman who was slumped in a chair across from her. "They didn't listen to a word I said."
Karen Hamilton frowned. "You didn't know John was being released? It's been on the news all day. Where have you been?"
Sarah swallowed over the tightness in her throat. "I worked at the library today." Her head felt light, her palms were sweaty. "What am I going to do?"
Lines of worry creased Karen's high, smooth brow. "There's nothing you can do."
That was true. With a nod of her head, Sarah agreed. "You're right."Bitter experience had taught her the futility of railing against injury and injustice. Her voice dropped to a resigned whisper. "A mad man is being loosed on society, and there's nothing I can do about it."
"Look on the positive side," Karen sat up and took a deep breath."John's spent five years in prison. He's undergone psychiatric evaluation and treatment. He's being released for good behavior. Maybe he's changed."
John Markum would never change. Sarah knew that; she suspected her friend did too. "John is, and will always be, a mad, disruptive force. He destroys everything he touches."
"Then you should stay out of his way."
"God knows I'm going to try." Sarah huddled in an overstuffed chair looking small and vulnerable. Her head dropped causing her honey-colored hair to fall like a curtain across her face, hiding the fear that dyed her amethyst eyes to a deep shade of indigo. Suddenly her chin lifted. "I'm stronger now, and wiser. He won't destroy my life again."
"Try to forget about John," Karen pleaded. "Let's talk about something more pleasant. Reid should be home soon, and we'll have dinner. I cooked your favorite, chicken-fried steak." She paused before adding, a little too casually, "By the way, his brother Blake will be with him."
Sarah closed her eyes and groaned. It wasn't enough that John Markum was out of prison, now her best friend was playing matchmaker. "Why did you invite someone else? You know how I feel about meeting strangers."
Karen twisted in her chair and looked uncomfortable. "I wouldn't do that to you. I didn't know Reid's brother was coming when I invited you for dinner."
Karen Hamilton was Sarah's oldest and dearest friend. She wanted to believe her. "So all of this is just a happy coincidence?"
"Coincidence? Yes. Happy? No. Believe me, I didn't plan this."
Karen's denial held a ring of truth. "Was it Reid's idea?" Sarah didn't know Karen's new husband all that well.
"I don't think so." Karen's fingers dug into the chair arm. "I suspect Blake invited himself, although Reid would never admit that to me."
Guilt moved in to replace Sarah's doubt. She had been so engrossed in her own problems, that she'd failed to recognize Karen's obvious distress. "Are you having in-law trouble so soon? I thought you liked Reid's family."
"I do. Reid's parents are wonderful. But Blake? Oh hell, Sarah when you meet the man you'll understand."
It wasn't like Karen to speak in such derogatory terms about someone who was virtually a member of her family. "Understand what? What's wrong with Reid's brother?"
"Nothing." Karen lifted her hands, then let them fall to her lap."Everything."
Sarah inclined her head to on side. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"He doesn't like me. He thinks Reid's marrying me was a mistake." Karen frowned. "I wouldn't wish him on my worst enemy. He's bad news." Her frown deepened as she shook her finger in Sarah's direction. "I want you to stay away from him."
"Karen, I can take care of myself."
"Since when?" Karen asked sarcastically.
Sarah laughed. "After all these years, you're still running interference for me. I think it all began with Jimmy Collins."
Karen's mouth curved in a reminiscent smile. "Even when you were six years old, you couldn't handle aggressive males, and Jimmy Collins got what he deserved."
Jimmy Collins had been a first-grade ruffian intent on making Sarah's first day at school miserable. He was clutching her arm, and aiming his pursed lips toward her face, when a much larger and more assertive Karen stepped in. A kick to the shins, and a slap across the head had sent Jimmy running for cover.
"Would you have believed then that Jimmy Collins, grade-school Romeo, would grow up to be James Jacob Collins, millionaire entrepreneur?" Mischief lurked in Sarah's smile. "Maybe I should have let him kiss me."
"Good Lord, Sarah, you've never had any sense where men were concerned." Shadows were collecting in the corners of the neat little living room. Karen moved gracefully across the floor and flicked the light switch by the door. "Maybe that's the answer. Maybe I should give Blake a kick on the shin, and a slap on the head, and send him packing."
Sarah's eyes rounded in surprise. "I believe you're serious."
"I am." Karen dropped any effort to conceal her dislike for her brother-in-law. "There's something about that man that makes me want to pat him on the back with a knife in my hand."
Sarah thought, as she watched the pained expression on Karen's face, that Blake Hamilton had no right to make his new sister-in-law so unhappy.
"Reid adores him." Karen blew a blast of air through her mouth. "A hold-over, I suppose, from the hero worship he developed when he was a teenager, and Blake was a star bronc rider on the rodeo circuit."
"What does Blake do now?" Sarah asked, finding herself being caught up in the mystique of Reid's older brother.
"As little as possible. When he could no longer straddle a horse, he came home and bought a honky-tonk."
"A what?" Sarah giggled.
"All right, then, a night club. For all his faults, Reid adores him . . . " Karen's voice died on the end of a sigh.
"You not only dislike him, you resent the influence he has over Reid." Sarah found that thought vaguely disturbing.
"That's because Blake's a bad influence," a subdued Karen admitted.
"Does Blake have a wife or children?"
"No children. He had a wife once. She divorced him years ago. Reid says Blake was devastated. I suspect he got what he deserved."
"Maybe that explains his attitude now," Sarah suggested, feeling a little troubled by Karen's lack of objectivity.
"Don't feel sorry for that womanizing rascal. He wasn't a paragon of virtue before his wife found someone else, and he certainly hasn't been since!"
Sarah knew how easy it was to misjudge others because of circumstances. "Give the man a chance, Karen. I've learned from experience it's not wise to judge a person by what's happened in the past."
"There is no comparison between you and Blake," Karen argued with a wave of her hand. "You're just a girl who got caught in an unfortunate situation."
Sarah looked around Karen's comfortable living room and thought how little her friend knew of the seamier side of life. "I'm not a girl, I'm a thirty-two-year old woman. I'm also a felon and an ex-convict."
"Surely you don't blame yourself for what happened?" Karen raised shocked eyebrows. "None of it was your fault."
Sarah didn't want to argue about her guilt, or lack of it. "I'm guilty of crimes that the state can't punish me for."
"So you keep on punishing yourself." Karen shook her head sadly from side to side. "You were the victim, not the perpetrator."
Sarah had believed that once. She knew now it wasn't true. Four years in prison had stripped her of all her innocence and most of her illusions. "I can't pass the blame for my own mistakes on to someone else, but just the same I love you for believing in me, and for defending me."
"Someone may need to defend you, literally, against John Markum now that he's out of prison."
The mention of John Markum sent a tremor of fear through Sarah. "I thought we agreed not to talk about John."
"We did. I'm sorry I mentioned him." Karen glanced at the clock. "Reid should be here by now."
Karen might believe Sarah was a victim. Sarah doubted that anyone else did. Most of the people in the little town of Summerville referred to her as that Scott woman, or notorious Sarah Scott. "Sometimes I wonder about the wisdom of coming back here to live. Summerville is such a small town."
"With such a long memory." Karen jumped to her feet as a car, followed by a pickup, pulled into the driveway. "That's Reid and his
brother. Get the door, Sarah. I have to see about dinner." Karen hurried toward the kitchen.
"Karen," Sarah called after her friend's retreating figure, "come back here, now."
Karen stuck her head around the side of the dining room door, and made a wry face. "You said you could take care of yourself."
Squaring her shoulders, Sarah pulled the front door open. Reid stood on the other side. With him was a tall, dark man wearing jeans and a plaid shirt. Stepping back, she explained, "Karen's in the kitchen."
Reid responded with a booming, "Hello, Sarah!" He preceded his brother into the room. "Something smells delicious."
His brother was not nearly so cheerful. A most reluctant Blake Hamilton followed Reid inside. He acknowledged his introduction to Sarah with a cursory, "Howdy, ma'am."
He knows who I am, Sarah thought. The cool greeting came as no surprise. "Good evening." Sarah let her eyes slide over the man who stood in the doorway, hat in his hand, looking uncomfortable and ill-at-ease. He was tall, with the muscular build of an athlete. The incredible blue of his deep-set eyes contrasted strangely with the jet black of his curly hair. Sarah nodded in his direction. "I'm happy to meet you." She was lying through her teeth. Nothing made her more unhappy than having to meet a so-called eligible male.
Despite Karen's remarkable culinary efforts, dinner was a miserable experience. Talk was sporadic and stilted. Karen, who was obviously irritated by her brother-in-law's presence, spoke only to Sarah and Reid, ignoring Blake completely.
Reid, clearly embarrassed by Karen's attempt to exclude his brother, overcompensated by trying, repeatedly, to draw Blake into the conversation.
Blake seemed completely indifferent to Karen's snub. He spoke only when his brother asked him a direct question, giving one of three answers each time he responded: "Yeah," "Nope," or "Beats me." His considered apathy only added to the tension that sparked through the room like an exposed electric wire.
By the time dinner was over, Sarah felt as if she had been trampled by a herd of longhorns. Over coffee and desert she made her bid for freedom. "I hate to end such an enjoyable evening, but I'm scheduled to work at the library tomorrow. I really must go."
"Where's your car?" Reid seemed relieved to see the evening drawing to a close. "I didn't see it in the driveway."
"I came here from the library, by way of the gym," Sarah explained. "I walked." She held up her gym bag for Reid to see. "I have to go."
"It's dark out," Reid protested. "You can't go wandering around town at this hour."
Karen disagreed, as she had with everything Reid had said all evening."Oh, come on, Reid. This is Summerville. Nothing ever happens here."
"I'll take you home," Reid insisted, then paused. "Or better yet, Blake can drive you home. It's on his way."
It wasn't, and Reid knew as much. He was using Sarah's leaving as an excuse to get rid of Blake too. She struggled to hide her annoyance. "I prefer to walk."
Ignoring her protest, Reid turned to his brother. "Blake will you take our guest home?"
Sarah sent Karen a look that pleaded for help. "I'm quite capable of finding my way home."
Karen did a complete about-face. "It's not the distance. John could be out there somewhere."
"He wouldn't come here, to Summerville." Sarah protested, as she realized at last, that Reid and Karen were agreeing on something. They both wanted Blake to go and take Sarah with him.
For the first time during the long evening, Blake spoke of his own volition. "We could argue about this all night, but I have to get back to San Antonio. Get your bag, Ms. Scott, and let's go." Walking out the door, he left Sarah to grab her gym bag, and follow after him.
As Sarah got into Blake's pickup and fastened her seat belt, he asked, with a touch of insolence, "You do live in Summerville, don't you?"
"Yes." Sarah was still trying to recover from being so unceremoniously ejected from her best friend's home.
"Tell me where." Blake put his key in the ignition.
"Across from the Baptist Church."
"That's on Oaks Street isn't it?" The motor coughed then purred to life. Over the sound of shifting gears, Sarah answered, "Yes."
Blake backed from the drive, turned his pickup south and drove toward the church.
She was stuck in an uncomfortable situation. She may as well make the best of it. Sarah looked around Blake's cluttered truck. He certainly wouldn't win any prize for neatness. His dash was littered with an array of useless items: Papers, envelopes, a flashlight, a pair of sunshades. An empty beer can lay on the floor under her feet. Two lengths of rope, one long, one short, hung over the gun rack that ran across the back glass. "Karen tells me you were once a rodeo star."
"That's right." Blake gripped the steering wheel and stared straight ahead.
"Is that why you carry ropes around in your truck?" she asked, hoping to elicit some kind of response.
"They're not ropes, one's a lasso, the other's a tying string." His abrupt reply should have silenced her, it didn't.
"But that's for calf roping."
His tone moved from bored to belligerent. "So?"
Sarah shrugged off his short reply. "So Reid said you were a saddle bronc rider."
"I was." Lights from a passing car flashed across Blake's granite profile. She could read nothing from his set expression.
An uneasy silence replaced Sarah's feeble attempts at conversation. She thought, as she stared at a passing car, that she had never before been so effectively ignored. Still, Blake's contempt was no more than she expected. After all, she was Sarah Scott, ex-convict.
As they neared the church, Blake questioned in a bored tone, "Which house?"
Sarah pointed toward a bungalow nestled far back from the road in a grove of oak trees. "That one."
Blake wheeled into the driveway, and jammed his foot into the brake, bringing the truck to a screeching halt.
"Be careful." Sarah put her hands against the dash to steady herself.
With a sigh, Blake turned to face her. "Good night, Ms. Scott."
So much for chivalry, Sarah thought, as she opened the pickup door. Blake was not about to escort her to her house. Obviously, he didn't want to be seen with her. She let her eyes scan him from head to toe."Good-bye, Mr. Hamilton." Then got out of the truck, and slammed the door, hard! As she turned, a tug at her skirt made her realize it was caught in the door of the truck. She stepped back and lost her balance as her heel caught on a tree root. The skirt parted company with the closed door with force enough to send her sprawling on the ground in an undignified heap. When she tried to rise, a sharp pain shot though her ankle.
Blake got out, came around his pickup and stood looking down at her. As she struggled to rise to her feet, he asked, "Do you need help, Ms. Scott?"
"I twisted my ankle." Raising one arm, Sarah ordered, "Give me your hand. I can't get up."
Instead, he reached down, and with one fluid motion, scooped her into his arms, and began to carry her toward the house. He was holding her too close to him. She felt the steady beat of the life force that flowed through him; sensed the masculine strength that emanated from his muscular body. Her heart gave an uneasy lurch. "Put me down."
His grip tightened. "Will you be still? I don't want to drop you."
"I don't like being manhandled, Mr. Hamilton."
"I don't like being ordered around, Ms. Scott. Not even by a pretty little blonde with purple eyes." He carried her up the steps and onto the porch. "Where's your key?"
"Put me down." His overpowering strength was smothering her. "The key's in the mailbox. I can manage on my own from here."
Blake stood Sarah on her feet. "That's no place to leave your key." He found the key, unlocked the door, then hauled Sarah back into his arms, and pushed the door open with his foot. "It's stupid to lock a door, then leave the key in the mailbox."
Immediately, Sarah's defenses went up. No one, but no one called her stupid and got away with it. "I didn't ask for your opinion."
"It's not an opinion, it's a fact." Blake dumped Sarah on the couch. "You should take your key with you when you leave."
If she told him she felt safer if her door key wasn't on her person, he would only ask more questions. It was none of his business anyway. "I don't need you to tell me what to do." After years of self recrimination, Sarah was still struggling to find her self respect and rebuild her self-image. She was not going to let some boorish cowboy denigrate it.
"I don't need anyone for any reason."
"You needed me to help you get into the house." Using his thumb, Blake pushed his hat to the back of his head. "You're kind of cute when you're mad." A seductive, lopsided smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. He was making light of every word she'd spoken. "I believe you were leaving. Close the door on your way out."
Blake's eyes drifted around the room. "Do you live here alone?"
"That's none of your business!"
A smirk replaced his smile. "Can you make it to bed by yourself?"
Cold fury caused the skin on the back of Sarah's neck to crawl. Did he think because of her past he could come into her home and make improper advances? "Will you please leave?"
The smirk faded. He took a step backward. "I was only trying to be helpful." Turning on his heel, he strode out the front door, closing it behind him as he went.
"Helpful?" Sarah fumed, "That kind of help, I don't need." She tried to stand. A stabbing pain shot up her leg. The insistent ringing of the telephone made her lean back on the couch and reach for the receiver. "Yes?"
Karen's worried voice sounded across the wire. "Sarah, honey, I owe
you an apology. Reid says I should apologize to Blake too. Is he there?"
"No, he just left."
"Then I'll catch him another time." Karen's relief sounded in her long sigh. "I'm sorry for the way I behaved tonight, and I'm sorry that Reid was so adamant about having Blake take you home."
Sarah's concern was more for Karen and Reid than for herself. "Are things all right between you and Reid? All through dinner, you both seemed so angry."
"I was angry with Blake, and I took it out on you and Reid. I'm sorry. I could have killed Blake tonight, for being so obviously bored by our company."
"He recognized me, Karen. That made him cautious."
"Cautious, my Aunt Minnie. He was inconsiderate and tactless."
"You didn't give him much of an opportunity to be friendly." Sarah attempted to soothe her old friend. "He's not that bad, Karen."
Her words seemed to have the opposite effect. "You like him?"
What could Sarah say? "I don't know him all that well."
"Stay away from that man, Sarah. Blake attracts women like stale beer attracts flies. And considering your track record, I'm beginning to have second thoughts about letting him take you home."
Sarah smiled into the telephone. "Don't worry, Karen. I don't intend to become involved with your brother-in-law." Or any other man, she thought. She had learned her lesson well.
"I'm glad to hear that." Karen carefully changed the subject. "Now I can get on to more important matters. The Committee of Seven is meeting at my house a week from Saturday. I'm having a backyard barbecue. I need your help with the menu and the shopping, and a dozen other things. Can you have lunch with me tomorrow?"
"I'd love to." Sarah suspected her friend wanted to make sure she stayed busy. "Tell me where, and when . . . " Sarah looked around her living room. "Karen, I l...
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