The Trouble With Lacy Brown (3 page)

Lacy took a step toward the Jeep. Clint dropped the gear into reverse and rammed it into drive. Then settling his hat more snugly on his forehead, he guided the clanking heap in a sad lurching arch northward.

Watching him go, a dangerous sense of anticipation rippled through Lacy.

She did not like the feeling one bit.

S
tanding on the side of the road, Clint peered at his Jeep’s radiator. Steam boiled from it, tangling with the smoke curling from the engine. In his haste to get out of Dodge and away from Lacy Brown, he’d just driven off.

That walking tornado had wiped out his good sense. That would explain how he hadn’t given a thought to the damage to his vehicle or that it might not make the ten-mile trip back to the ranch. Now, stranded on the side of the road, he had to be content to wait for a ride or walk the last four miles home. He still needed a cup of coffee, but it looked like today wasn’t his day for one, or anything else.

He owned a cell phone, but little good that did him out here in the bowels of Texas without reception. It was the luck of the day that this long stretch between
Mule Hollow and the ranch was the deader than dead zone.

Outsmarted by a bunch of cattle thieves, then accosted by Lacy Brown, now this—what a combination. Of course, to be fair, he owed Ms. Brown an apology. It was his fault that he’d hit her car. No excuses, all that grief he’d given her about her insurance had been wrong. He shouldn’t have carried it so far.

Clint couldn’t help thinking that if
she
was what that advertisement Norma Sue and the ladies put out was bringing to town—Mule Hollow was in worse trouble than before the oil wells had dried up.

Rubbing the back of his neck, he walked to the center of the deserted farm-to-market road and stood there, boots planted on both sides of the yellow line. “Nothin’ coming down this road anytime soon,” he said to the birds gliding high in the blue sky above him.

His ranch and just a few other homes were all that were out this direction from town. This bit of road was as dead as town.

He started walking.

He hated what had happened to the town he’d grown up in. Like all the folks with roots dating back two and three generations, watching the town die had been a hard thing to stomach. Especially when he remembered what a pretty little place it had been before the oil boom busted in the late seventies. He’d only been a kid, but he remembered all the oil rigs that had once
dotted the pastures along this countryside. When the wells dried up, the roughnecks took their families and moved on to find work somewhere else. Their departure left Mule Hollow just that—
hollow.

Nowadays, most all the town had left were herds of cattle and lonesome cowboys.

And man alone didn’t build a town.

Mule Hollow needed women in order to build families. But the town had nothing to offer ladies. Ranching was long hard work, which left little time for the men to travel over an hour to the nearest town to find a date. It wasn’t happening.

That’s when the few older women who were left had a revelation from the Lord Himself, as they put it, and they realized Mule Hollow did have a commodity.

Mule Hollow had men.

And that was the start of this harebrained plan and the advertisement for wives. An ad for wives! It sounded like a mail-order bride scheme right out of an old Western. But actually it was straight from Norma Sue Jenkins’s family tree. Her great-great-grandma had been a real-life mail-order bride. And a success story to boot.

That didn’t mean this would be. And if the women who might respond to that ad were anything like Lacy Brown, then Mule Hollow was probably better off remaining a dried-up hole-in-the-road. The woman really worried him. He’d seen women like
her up close, too close. They didn’t stay, they didn’t stick. And women who didn’t stick around when times were rough weren’t worth having around in the first place.

Clint paused, took his hat off and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. He’d reached the mesquite-and-wire fencing of his ranch boundaries. That meant he only had three more miles to go to the ranch house, a shower and that cup of coffee he’d never gotten.

Picking up his pace, his spurs clinking on the pavement, he let his thoughts dwell on the town’s predicament rather than his own.

His men were excited about women coming. They were young and he was glad for them. But he himself had no intention of being
bait.
For all he cared, women could flock in by the thousands, but it wouldn’t change his mind.

Like he’d said, he, Clint Matlock, had seen up close how fickle women could be, and he would never be one of the men who tried to make this town survive through the sharing of a bunch of useless vows.

Lacy shoved a pile of trash out of the way with the toe of her boot. Sheri had been griping ever since they’d entered the deplorable building. “Use your imagination, Sheri. Everything you see here is purely cosmetic, easily remedied. And
that
will give the salon super atmosphere.”

“Yeah, right. Lace, it’s a crumbling brick wall for goodness’ sake.”

Lacy studied the object of Sheri’s horror. “It’s upscale. Think like a New Yorker.”

“In a place named Mule Hollow?” Sheri frowned and arched an eyebrow. “I don’t think so.”

Standing side by side, they studied the brick wall that ran the full length from store front to back. It was bad, but Lacy had seen worse. After her father had run out on them, Lacy and her mother had moved into their share of run-down apartments in the Dallas Metroplex. Lacy’s mom, bless her soul, had never let Lacy know the despair she must have felt. Instead, she’d taught her daughter vision, to look beyond the grime and see the beauty that they could create as a team of two. And oh, what beauty they’d created… Thinking of those apartments, the wonder of a lot of elbow grease, discounted paint and tons of love, made Lacy smile. She and Sheri were each so lost in their observations that they didn’t hear the footsteps behind them.

“Lacy is right, Sheri. You have to look past the rubbish and deterioration to see what can be.”

Startled, Sheri and Lacy spun around to find three older ladies standing just inside the doorway beaming at them.

“Hello,” said the smiling trio.

“Hello,” said the young pair clutching their chests, hearts thumping.

These were the ladies of the town, the wise women who had dreamed the dream and followed through with a plan. Lacy was immediately drawn to them. She studied them warmly as introductions were made. There was Esther Mae Wilcox, with her flaming red hair piled high on her head like a triple dip of red velvet ice cream. She had beautiful smooth skin kissed by flecks of freckles. At first glance with the gigantic hair in the way, Esther looked a good ten years older than the early sixties Lacy figured her to be. She knew on sight that Esther Mae would be her first makeover.

Norma Sue Jenkins had the figure of a basketball, but oozed life from every pore of her sun-leathered skin. Her salt-and-pepper hair was as wiry as anything Lacy had seen in all her years behind the chair. That it could use a little conditioner was an understatement. Conditioner and a good cut, Lacy knew a woman in need of a little TLC when she saw one. And that just happened to be her specialty.

Then there was Adela Ledbetter. It was obvious she’d found a salon somewhere. Her snow-white hair had been cut into a stylish pixie. A wisp of bangs softened the look, highlighting the brightest, most intelligent sapphire eyes Lacy had ever seen. In this woman’s eyes, Lacy saw a kindred spirit and the true dream of the town.

“You placed the ad,” Lacy said, accepting Adela’s proffered hand.

“Yes,” she said. Her voice was gentle and cultured. It seemed completely out of place in a town like Mule Hollow.

“Against the wishes of the men,” Norma Sue boomed, coming forward to grab both Lacy and Sheri’s hands at the same time and pumping them enthusiastically.

“Men! What do they know anyway?” Esther Mae scowled and bobbed her triple-decker.

Lacy chuckled, grateful when Norma Sue let go of her hand. “I couldn’t agree more. I gathered from a conversation with Sam that the guys aren’t with the program?”

“Well, yes and no.” Norma Sue sighed. “Some of them want to be, they really do. But they don’t have the eyes to see the big picture. They don’t trust the good Lord enough to know that He could work a miracle and keep our town alive.”

“So, my good ladies, we have to show them that trust and faithfulness go hand in hand and lead to bountiful gifts,” Adela said.

Esther patted her hair, nodding. “The fellas in this town won’t know what hit them.”

“Boy, is that an understatement,” Sheri said. “I have to say, though, that I’m going to enjoy watching all the fireworks this plan ignites. Like earlier with Lacy and Clint. That poor guy didn’t know what to do with her.”

“He needed that shaking up,” said Norma Sue. “The
way that boy works, you would think there is no tomorrow. He needs to get back right with God and find out there is more to life than work.”

“I’m glad I came,” Lacy said. “I think the plan you’ve hatched will be a great success. And Clint Matlock is the poster boy for this campaign even if he doesn’t know it.” She strode lightly to the window and stared out across the town. Following her gaze, the ladies moved to stand beside her. She wondered if they could see what she saw. “This is going to be a happening place within the next few weeks. We’re going to make people fall in love, get married. Make babies. Y’all, we’re going into the matchmaking business, but more, we’re going into the business of futures.” And I’m going into the business of leading souls to Christ.

All eyes turned to her.

Adela inclined her head to one side, her smile serious. “The first match could be you. Sam said the sparks were really flying between you and Clint. God could have brought you all this way to lead the way.”

Sheri choked.

Lacy did likewise and stepped back from the expectant group. “No way! I’m here to run a business. I’ll spruce these gals up so the men can’t resist them and I’ll help you do whatever I can to make this venture a success. But whatever you do, don’t try matching me up with anyone.”

“But the sparks—” Esther May said.

Lacy held up her hand to stop Esther’s words. “Sparks or no sparks, I’m not in the market for a hubby.”

“Well, for crying out loud, why not?” Norma Sue asked.

At the moment, Lacy didn’t want to give her life story on the reasons men weren’t at the top of her list. But serious relationships that led to marriage were out of the question for now. “I’ve got a business to build here. You’ve got a town to build. By mutual agreement, I think my energies would serve better if I weren’t sidetracked by a man hunt of my own. I’m here to concentrate on God and His plan. Not mine.”

“Well,” Adela said, “I think that’s an admirable mission. If we all put God first, just think where we’d be. And you’re absolutely right about Clint Matlock. When the women get here and see him strutting down the sidewalk, fireworks are going to strike somebody.”

“Which will be good to see.” Esther Mae snorted. “The boy’s been hard to understand ever since his mama ran off with the circus. He needs some good woman to come along and show him not all women are deserters.”

The circus? Now that sounded interesting and sad. Lacy wrestled down her curiosity. There was no doubt sparks would fly any time that cowboy was around. But that was only because Clint Matlock was a big, grumpy ol’ lump of coal.

Clint fought his growing frustration as he studied the deep tire ruts crossing the line between pastures on the back section of his ranch. The fence separating the land had been cut and another thirty head of cattle were gone. He’d taken heavy losses over the past three months and was at a standstill on how to catch the thieves. Ranches as expansive as his were hard to protect at all times.

His foreman, Roy Don Jenkins, stood beside him surveying the damage too. Removing his hat, he scratched the top of his gray head. “You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?” he asked.

Clint curled his fingers around the dangling barbed wire. “That unless someone happens to run up on something they aren’t supposed to see or the rustlers make a stupid mistake, we’re straight out of luck.”

“Yup, ’bout sums it up.” Roy Don settled his hat back on his head and spat a long stream of tobacco.

Clint pulled his leather gloves from his back pocket and yanked them on. He had hired hands who could repair the cut fence, but he needed the exertion. He’d been restless since going into town yesterday, and he’d learned early on from his father that work always helped a man through a restless time. Mac Matlock had been a hardworking man. He’d built his life from the land and the cattle that grazed on it. He’d instilled that same sense of commitment into Clint. After Clint’s
mama left them, Clint had learned from watching his dad that a man could get through anything working out alone on the open range.

Reaching for his tools, Clint prepared to fix the fence. He was preoccupied with finding a way to catch the rustlers at their game.

Roy Don spat another stream of tobacco then grasped a section of wire, as always, ready to help. “Norma Sue can’t quit talkin’ ’bout the new beauty operator. Says she’s a real go-getter.”

Clint shook his head. “You saw my Jeep.”

Roy Don laughed. “Yup. While I was down at Pete’s picking up feed, I heard about all that business yesterday morning. Funny you didn’t mention it.”

“Well, I’m glad to be the entertainment for the boys at the feed store. Didn’t mention it ’cause it wasn’t important.”

“It sounded like you had your hands full.”

Clint lifted his gaze and met the older man’s. “You should have seen her, Roy Don. She looked like a feisty hen protecting her chicks, puffing out her chest and standing me off.” Thinking about those sparkling, denim-colored eyes flashing at him…
Oh, no, you don’t.
The last thing he wanted to do was talk about Lacy Brown.

He wanted to forget her. She had distracted him enough.

Roy Don spat and kept on talking. “Come out here
five hundred miles from Dallas. Drove it all in one night. Sam said that friend of hers told him, once Lacy Brown got an idea in her head, there was no stoppin’ her. Said God gave her a vision about Mule Hollow. You think God really speaks out like that nowadays? Gal’s got guts, up and moving here like she did.”