The Last Cowboy In Texas (2 page)

“He turned you down, huh? Guess he’s still trying to get even with you.”

“Get even?”

“From when we were in school. You know, when you wouldn’t let him, uh, have what he wanted from you.”

A spur of electric tension coursed her body. “How did you know about that?”

“Well—you told me,” Missy blurted. “Don’t you remember?”

“Uh, I guess so.” She didn’t remember but if she’d ever told anyone it would have been Missy. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. What are you going to do now?”

“Not me. We. We’re going to start a woman’s club.”

Missy giggled. “For what? Sewing and knitting?”

“No, silly. A women’s athletic booster club.”

“Paige, aren’t we a little old for cheer-leading?”

“Oh Missy, sometimes I think you leave your brain in your dresser drawer. I don’t mean a pep club. We can do everything those men can do. And we can do it better.”

“Well, okay. I guess. It would have been a lot more fun to be a part of
Troy
’s group, though, don’t you think?”

“Yes but that’s out. Can we get together this afternoon?”

“Sure. Your place or mine?”

“Yours. I don’t think my father would understand what we’re doing.”

“I’m not sure I do, either.”

“See you at four, Missy.”

She looked across the street to see her father coming out of the Herald office and hoped he wouldn’t see her. He’d no doubt have another dumb errand for her to run, like some damn slave.

I do my best to be the son he never had and he treats me like dirt.

* * *

Troy
’s shiny red Lexus took him up the winding road from
Flanders
to Reeds Spring, hot on the trail of another of his sweet land deals that assured him a leisurely existence. Since musicians and entertainers had chosen to turn Branson into a national phenomenon, land values in the area were skyrocketing.

Edgar Roberts had retired, leaving his son with a sleepy little real estate business in a sleepy little town. Not one to leave his light under a basket,
Troy
had headed for the more glamorous prospects of Branson. With physical attributes that could have put him on the silver screen, he made the most of his gregarious nature. And of his once in a lifetime opportunity.

His bellicose enterprise had gotten an unexpected boost, lifting his fortunes beyond his wildest dreams. It seemed that each and every one of these illustrious stars wanted their own palace in the hills. And there were plenty of hills to go around.

Now, a famous country singer, Jason Tawdry, had asked him to find the right spot for a hidden mansion. As he’d scoured the area, road by road,
Troy
had learned that huge tracts could still be had for a song. But he had to act fast. Word was spreading about what land was going for in the area.

He’d found a virtual gold mine, two thousand acres available for a tenth of projected value; a thirtieth of what he’d sell five-acre parcels for. He knew he had competition. If he didn’t get it signed today, it would cost at least twice as much by tomorrow or the next day.

There was one possible problem with the site. He’d heard a rumor that some female environmentalist had found a tiny varmint along the creek bottom that ran through the tract, a Gamine miniature frog she claimed was endangered specie.

For crying out loud, everybody knew about the Gamies. Not much larger than a cricket, they multiplied by the thousands every summer.

Gamies endangered? Not on your life. I’ll handle that prissy missy in a heartbeat. Probably another damn feminist, like Paige.

* * *

Paige was in the middle of her weekend editorial when her dad interrupted her. “I want you to go over to Reeds Spring, Paige. There’s a lady at the motel there that has a story.”

“Was someone murdered?”

“No, but you’d think so from the way this gal’s carrying on. Just see if she’s got anything newsworthy.”

“Okay. You mind if I finish my editorial first?”

“I figured you’d rather drive that road in daylight.”

He was right. “Well, I suppose I can finish this tomorrow. What’s her name?”

“Agatha Kingfisher. No wisecracks, please. That’s really her name. At least she says it is. Unit eleven.” She waved goodbye and headed for her car.

It was four when she pulled up at the Quiet Springs Motel. The place, whose name had been a source of humor for decades, was a holdover from early twentieth century. An office and a dozen rustic—make that ramshackle—cabins.

A woman with fiery red hair opened the door when she knocked. “Are you Miss Kingfisher?” From appearances, the answer was obvious. Typical woodsy clothes and rather unkempt.

“Yes. You must be the reporter from the Flanders Herald.”

“Right. I’m Paige Turner.” The look of amusement on the woman’s face almost triggered an inappropriate comment.

“Did Mr. Turner, your husband I assume, explain my find?”

“Mr. Turner, my father unfortunately, said you had a story but didn’t give me any details. What’s the lowdown?”

“I’m an environmentalist. I study fish and other aquatic life. My mentor sent me here to look for endangered species.”

“And?”

“And I found one.”

“Here? I can’t imagine that. What is it?”

“It’s a tiny frog they call a Gamine but the classical term is amphibios miniare gaminos. It sounds like a cricket when it sings.”

“You call that singing? Other frogs croak. This one cricks. We know all about the Gamies around here. They’re not endangered, Miss Kingfisher, just a damn nuisance. How do you figure they’re in trouble?”

“The inhabitants use them for fishbait in the lakes here.”

“So?”

“What do you mean, so? Are you a real reporter or just someone they send out to discourage we scientists from doing our duty to save threatened wildlife?”

“I’m a real reporter, Agatha. Actually, associate editor of the paper, but I need a real story to be able to follow up on it. This isn’t a real story as far as I can tell.”

“You’re wrong. I’ve called my mentor and he’s on his way. We’ll give you a story, unless you only want to protect your local sportsmen. We can always take it to
Springfield
.”

“Hold on. I don’t give a hoot about protecting so-called sportsmen. It’s just hard to believe those little things could be worth anybody’s time and interest.”

“Believe me, they are. I’ve spent three years looking for something like this and now that I’ve found it, I’m not backing off.”

“Okay, I’ll listen to you. So, where did you find them?”

“I can’t be specific until we’ve documented the find. It’s along a little creek east of here. Willow Creek.”

“Okay. I’ll try to spread the word on this find of yours. Let me get some basic details down while we’re waiting for your mentor to show. Does he have a name, Miss Kingfisher?”

“Dr. Steven Carlson, and I’d prefer you call me Aggie.”

By the time she had sufficient information to satisfy her dad, it was nearly six. She’d forgotten her meeting with Missy so she pulled out her cell phone and dialed.

“Missy, I’m sorry. Dad sent me to Reeds Spring for a story and I totally forgot to call.”

“It’s okay, Paige. Did they have a murder over there?”

“No. I think it’s a wild goose chase. You know Dad, but I took notes to keep him happy. Can we get together tomorrow?”

“Nope. Mom and I are going to Branson to shop.”

“Shopping in Branson, huh? Sounds like fun.”

“Want to come along?”

“No. I’ve got to get the weekend edition ready. I’ll talk to you later.”

Paige decided to eat in the local café. As she went through the door,
Troy
almost bumped into her on his way out.

“Hi, Paige. Fancy meeting you over here. On a story?”

“Yeah. How’s the food?”

“Try the special. Near as I can tell, it’s the only thing you get the same day you order. Salisbury steak. Not bad.”

“Thanks for the tip. Well, I’ll see you around.”

“Hey, you mind if I have coffee while you eat? I just completed a major business deal and I’d like to tell you all about it. Could be some really good advertising for the Herald.”

“Sure. I don’t mind company.”
Even yours.

She nearly balked when she saw the inside of the café. Knotty pine walls covered with mounted fish of every description, all dulled with age. Ceiling tiles, once white, had weathered yellow but the place seemed clean enough otherwise.

The waitress was taking her order when Aggie Kingfisher came into the café. Paige did a double take. Gone were the flannel shirt and khaki pants. Gone, too, were the freckles on the woman’s face. Well, almost gone. They were well camouflaged under her makeup. Her flaming hair had been swept into a ponytail. This Aggie was right off the fashion page. And sexy as hell.

When she turned back to
Troy
, she wanted to slap the disgusting leer off his smug face. Did he never tire of lusting after women?

Aggie hadn’t spotted her and sat across the room.
Troy
smiled in a way that told her he’d detected her jealous thoughts. “I bought two thousand acres today.”

“Impressive. So what are you going to do with them,
Troy
?”

“Luxury tracts. Five acres a pop.”

“Luxury? In little old
Flanders
? How quaint.”

“It’s not in
Flanders
. Near Reeds Spring, actually.”

“Sounds like your chance for the big-time,
Troy
.”

“Yep. I already have half a dozen stars interested, including Jason Tawdry.”

“Country singers, huh? I wish I could sing.”

“Maybe you could if you just ever tried it.” His eyebrows did their Tom Selleck lift, raising her pulse even more.

“Very funny, Troy. How long will it take to plumb your new gold mine?”

“Depends. There’s one problem. Some female environmentalist claims to have found endangered species along the creek that runs through the property. You know those prissy environmental types. If I can’t get this one squelched fast, I’ll have to spend all my profits in court battles.”

Paige shot a meaningful glance at Aggie, then turned back and smiled at
Troy
. “How interesting.” She looked back across the room to see that Aggie had spied her and waved to the woman.

“Who’s that?” he asked.

“Aggie Kingfisher. You haven’t met her?”

“No. She’s not from these parts, is she?”

“I don’t think so. If you’d like, I’ll introduce you and you can see for yourself.”

“Sure. I’d love to meet her.” From the look in his eyes, Paige thought he was going to race her across the room.

She went over to speak to the woman and returned with her in tow. “Troy Roberts, this is Agatha Kingfisher. Aggie,
Troy
is one of our local luminaries.”

Troy
jumped to his feet and helped her into her chair. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Aggie. May I call you that?”

“Yes you may, if you don’t mind my calling you
Troy
.”