Lone Star Courtship (6 page)

“Trying. That's an interesting way to put it.”

She scraped the burned corner from a triangle of toast and buttered it lightly, wondering if what he'd just said could be used to her advantage.

“Our firm has been serving clients for nine generations and we've divisions that cover every conceivable facet of the law. Unfortunately, I've tried them all and none suits me. The study of the craft is more to my liking than the practice of it.”

“You're still a young man. It's not too late to follow your heart and go the academic route.”

“My family lives by the adage ‘Those that can, do. Those that can't, teach.'”

“So your parents don't approve?”

“Approve?” He scrunched his forehead. “They don't even know.”

“That's incredible. With me it's always been just the opposite. I put my parents and siblings on notice ten years ago that I'd be CEO of H & H one day. My father is sixty-seven and with my only brother settling down in Austin it looks like I'll get my shot at the position before I'm thirty-five.”

“What about your sisters?”

She waved away the absurd thought as if batting at a pesky fly.

“They're as much into their kids as I am my career.”

“Could all that ambition be the reason for your heebie…”

“Jeebies.” She licked a drop of honey off the back of her spoon and shook her head. “That goes way back before it ever occurred to me to run a corporation that would generate billions in revenue.”

Barrett nodded and dug into his eggs.

“So, power and control appeal to you.”

“It's not about appeal. It's about achieving the goals I set for myself during college, and seeing the fulfillment of my strategy for the company. I can't be happy with anything less.”

“Well, then. It seems you're just the sort of executive my client hopes to engage.”

And once again he gave her a smile that would charm any starstruck female. Her stomach clenched and sent a shockwave of shivers throughout her system. Was it the thought of making headway on her plan or the appeal of the man seated across from her? They were interchangeable now, and she was beginning to wonder which one she truly found most exciting.

L
ater that day, Barrett parked in the shade behind the construction office. He made a pass around the American luxury sedan, admiring the sheer size of the automobile as he pulled items from the trunk.

Though it was well after the lunch hour, there was only one vehicle out front and no activity at all across the way at the site. Maybe the crew made allowances for the humidity and took breaks out of the reach of the simmering rays. An appealing thought as he moved into the heat.

When he turned the corner and started up the steps to the landing, he was pleased that no one was around to hear his stomach give a menacing rumble. He'd been a fool to eat even one of the evil breakfast sausages, and a glutton for eating four. A glutton for punishment, that is, and punishment was exactly what he got an hour after consumption. Too much delicious but strange food had his insides in turmoil. It was fortunate Casey hadn't wanted to sail or he might have embarrassed himself by losing his meal over the bow. A brief nap and a cool shower had put him to rights and now he was ready to pore over the documents she'd agreed to make available.

Savannah must have heard his approach.

“Good afternoon, Barrett.” She stood in the doorway and extended her hand. He shook it carefully, admired her gentle touch and wondered if the spunky brunette was Casey's friend or strictly a professional understudy.

“The same to you, my dear. Where is everyone?”

“They're dealing with a situation on the far side of the building, but I told the boss lady I'd stay here and take care of you.” She motioned and he followed her inside the cool structure.

“I've set a pitcher of tea on the conference table and there are several folders Casey said you'd need. Please make yourself comfortable and yell if I can get you anything else.”

He took a long swallow of the icy drink. The sweetness that had seemed syrupy at first try was amazingly refreshing and tasty. He was further amazed that Casey, a suspicious woman he'd met only yesterday, had overcome her mistrust and left a barrister in her workplace without supervision. He spread the folders before him, took out a legal pad and began to explore the details of Hearth and Home's expansion plan.

Halfway into his first page of notes, the door to the outer office sprang open with a thump to the wall behind him. Barrett heard heavy boots stomp across the threshold and then Cooper's voice.

“This kind of stuff makes me want to give up my chew and go back to smokin'! Of all the bad luck Miss Casey could have, this takes first prize.”

Barrett pushed his chair back and quickly strode to the reception area.

“What's happened to Casey? Has she fallen jeebie again?”

“Jeebie?” Cooper asked, his face a wrinkled mask of confusion and surprise. He obviously hadn't expected to encounter Barrett.

“Where'd you hear that term?” Savannah moved closer, her lips puckered in concern.

“For a brief time this morning she wasn't feeling well and that's how she described her malaise.”

He noted the way Savannah nodded slightly, and seemed to file the detail away before she changed the subject.

“Casey's okay. But there's been a bit of a find on the property.”

“A bit of a find?” Cooper's voice rose, indicating the comment was an understatement. “A twenty in the hip pocket of your jeans is a bit of a find. Karankawan artifacts in your construction zone is a blasted nightmare. Those tree huggers will be crawlin' on this place like ticks on a huntin' dog.”

“Would you mind explaining, sir?”

Cooper spit tobacco juice into the ever-present disposable cup and jangled his keys. “Casey won't like it, but there's nothin' gonna stop you from findin' out, so you might as well go on over there and see for yourself.” Cooper stepped out on the porch.

“Let me lock up and I'll come with y'all.” Savannah pulled her ponytail through a baseball cap, put enormous sunglasses on her nose and yanked the door closed behind them, turning the key in the lock.

“Coop, let's take your Wrangler so we can go straight across.” The young woman squeezed between the two seats and settled on the back bench. “You ride shotgun, Barrett.”

“Shotgun?”

“Just take the front seat, buckle up and hang on,” Cooper instructed gruffly, obviously in no mood to explain the firearms reference. He backed up abruptly, threw the vehicle into Drive and then went careening toward the area under construction. As they rounded the frame of the partially drywalled building, he stomped the brake. Thick white dust swirled around them, clinging to the dark slacks Barrett would likely burn after this Texas adventure had ended.

A small crowd could be seen. Some knelt while others stood and leaned in for a better look at whatever held their interest in the center of the circle. The vehicle had stopped only meters from the group, yet no one turned to identify the newcomers.

“We're lucky the press ain't here yet.”

Just then, as if on cue, a van with a cable station logo pulled alongside the Jeep, sending even more dust flying. A reporter with his microphone at the ready motioned for the cameraman to begin filming and stay close. He caught up with Cooper as he climbed to the ground, so obvious in his H & H shirt.

“Parker Pearson, Eye Witness News. Is it true? Could this really be the biggest Karankawan find of the century?”

“Settle down, dubs. The century's young and it's just some pots and piles of oyster shells. It ain't like we uncovered a Mayan pyramid.”

“Still, there hasn't been a local discovery in years. This is big news. Has the historical society been notified?”

“Not officially, but I'm sure you'll take care of that.”

“Stand over there, Chuck. Shoot me from the left.”

“Just call it your good side and get it over with, Parker.” The man known as Chuck rolled his eyes and hoisted the camera to his shoulder. “It's not like we don't know about that big mole on your right cheek.”

“Noonday news with Parker Pearson here. We're at the site where a new Hearth and Home supercenter is under construction and set to open in less than ninety days. We've received a tip that Karankawan artifacts were unearthed here only hours ago and the cache of pottery and utensils may be the most notable in decades. Excuse me.” He elbowed his way through the building crew and pressed forward toward Casey. “Ma'am, are you the member of the Hardy family who's managing this construction?” He spoke to her but smiled for the camera lens.

Not dressed much differently than she had been when they'd parted ways at 7:00 a.m., Casey tilted her head back and peeked from underneath the signature orange cap. In her hands she cradled a beautifully preserved liter-size clay bowl with fish painted end to end around the lip. She held the earthenware aloft, gently brushing away the years of dirt.

“Look, isn't it magnificent? I've never held anything like it.” Her eyes, which Barrett found much more magnificent than the dusty old basin, sought his. He smiled to reassure her, though it didn't appear she felt the worry Cooper had expressed.

“Miss Hardy!” Pearson grasped for the artifact as if to save it from destruction. She pulled it protectively to her chest as he continued. “That piece could be over four hundred years old. You must be careful.”

Several cars had come to a stop nearby and a dozen newcomers rushed the site.

“We declare this location sacred Karankawa territory!” one shouted.

“Don't touch another thing!” the next insisted. “You could be unearthing a burial ground. Who knows what kind of spirits we could be disturbing.”

The band of local activists moved into place before the camera.

“Oh, for pity's sake.” Cooper stepped forward and inserted himself between the small frenzy and Casey.

“This stuff gets turned up all the time. I've lived in this neck of the woods for sixty-six years and everywhere you dig a hole from Galveston to Corpus Christi you're likely to unearth spearheads and hunks of pottery. There's nothing sacred or spiritual about it.”

“That's for the authorities to decide,” the newsman chimed in, facing the camera again. “This is Parker Pearson for Eye Witness News at the site that will become Galveston's only Hearth and Home supercenter. Or will it?”

He snapped off the wireless microphone.

“What's that supposed to mean?” Casey stood, still cradling the antiquity. Her eyes lit, pools of bright indignation.

She focused on the anchor she recognized from the evening newscast, trying to make sense of his comment.

“It means beware the CAVE people.”

“Cave people?”

“Citizens Against Virtually Everything. Once they show up in force, they're going to shut you down indefinitely.”

The recent arrivals began waving their crudely made signs and chanting. “Protect our native heritage! Stop the expansion!”

“What are they talking about?” Casey looked to Peterson for an answer. “They don't have a single detail and they're already carrying on like a bunch of flower children at a sixties' protest.”

“Interfering with commercial growth on the island is the life work of this bunch. You should see the frenzy they can get whipped into anytime the port authority tries to expand services.” He turned his back and motioned for his cameraman. “Come on, Chuck. Let's go shoot that tanker that's leaking oil in West Bay.”

“But what happens now?” she called.

He glanced over his shoulder and gave her the grave look he'd used for the camera. “Hire yourself a good lawyer and settle in for a fight. Unless you find a way to reason with these kooks, they can hold up your construction for months, maybe get your building permits revoked and shut you down permanently.”

“Permanently!” She stared at the pottery in her hands and then up into the dark eyes of Barrett Westbrook, the ninth generation of British attorneys. His face was impassive, unreadable. Was that because he'd just had all his questions answered? Would he call for her conviction and execution before evidence was even presented?

Her fingers started to tingle. In anticipation of the trembling that sometimes followed that sensation, she turned the handmade vessel over to Cooper.

“Don't worry, Casey girl.” He put a warm hand on her shoulder. “I've watched these folks for years. They may seem goofy but their hearts really are in the right place. We need a few days to figure out how big this campsite was and then we'll take it from there. The Karankawas were nomads, so maybe this is one of those spots where they only stayed for a little bit before movin' on.”

“Then how would you explain this perfect jug? Why would something like this get left behind? It doesn't make any sense. What if this is only the tip of some cultural iceberg?”

Cooper held up his other hand to silence her growing alarm, and leaned closer for privacy.

“There are plenty of authorities on this stuff. Let me make some calls to see what we can find out.”

She felt her pulse quicken. Turning something of this critical nature over to another person went completely against her grain. Tingling shot through her toes, her hands trembled noticeably, and the mask of her face buzzed. If she didn't get away soon she was likely to faint in front of everybody. Wouldn't that be a sight for the cameras!

“Trust me, Casey.” Cooper gave her a side squeeze, just like her daddy would have done. “Your brother hired me for this purpose, now let go of my six-shooters.”

A small smile returned to her face. Guy trusted Cooper. She would, too.

“Okay, I'll head over to the office to give Dad a heads-up on this development.”

“Don't be upset if he wants your brother to come down from Austin. It's only a few hours' drive and it might be a good idea to have him here.”

Over my dead body.

She'd reassure the family she had it under control and then she'd go the condo and stick her head under the covers for a few hours. In college sleep had been a peaceful escape, but that had been so many years ago. Why was this plaguing her now, of all times?

“Come on, kiddo. Let's get you over to the trailer so you can take care of business.” Savannah snaked her arm through Casey's, held tight and tugged toward the Jeep.

“It's okay. I've got you,” she whispered. Her best friend had noticed. Of course she would. She'd been the one to get Casey through these episodes back in college. At a time when she'd thought she was losing her mind, Savannah had been the one to point out that there were only two states of being for the Hardy family…
In control and out of control.
Each family member handled it in their own way, but at the end of the day if calling the shots wasn't an option, there were consequences. For Casey, it had been this anxious feeling she'd labeled the heebie-jeebies. It was horrible to have the body she'd conditioned so well through sports and competition betray her in this way.

Just thinking about the bothersome symptoms made her stomach churn. During a full attack, hot needle pricks would shoot through her hands and feet until they trembled and went numb. Her heart would pound, her body would break into a clammy sweat and vertigo would knock her off her feet. As the surge subsided she'd be weak and nauseous, fearful it would return. Knowing it could strike without warning and with a vengeance.