Come On Over

“That’s a foolish, archaic old wives’ tale.”

“Good. Because I’ve changed my mind. I’m frying that steak for my supper.”

Violet threw back a healthy shot of whiskey and poured another. “Is it big enough for all of us?”

“No.” It wasn’t enough that she was guzzling down his whiskey? She wanted his steak, too? He noticed Shelby checking out the silly daisy wallpaper he hadn’t had time to get rid of yet.

“Yep,” Violet muttered. “You’re just like your great-grandpa. Cut from the same ornery mold.”

Trent looked at her. “What was that crack earlier? I’m not stubborn, and neither was Gramps.”

Violet snorted. “Like hell.” She nodded at Shelby. “So was yours. I reckon that’s why you two are here in this mess.”

“Excuse me?” Shelby stared at her. “How could you know my grandfather?”

“Can’t say I ever met him, but I knew your great-granddaddy. You said your last name is Foster. Harold Foster was your great granddad, wasn’t he?” Violet said, and Shelby nodded. “Harold was a kind, mild-mannered man most of the time.”

“Wait. Hold on. What mess?” Trent asked, knowing in his gut he wouldn’t like the answer. “Because I was doing just fine before...” He glanced at Shelby, saw her absently probing her jaw, felt a stab of guilt and closed his mouth.

“While you were in the kitchen swatting at flies, this young lady told me why she’s here,” Violet said, “and I’ve got a fair notion as to what might’ve happened.”

Shelby’s green eyes brightened. “You think I really do own the Eager Beaver?”

“Look here, Violet, you can’t just make up stories because you’re bored,” Trent warned. “I swear to God, if you stir up trouble, I’m gonna sic Mutt on you.”

Shelby inhaled sharply. “You wouldn’t.”

He ignored her, determined not to let Violet off the hook even if Mutt would just lick her to death. “This woman has driven all the way from Colorado and—”

“How do you know where I’m from? I didn’t tell you.”

“License plates.”

“Oh.”

He wished she’d quit wetting her lips and distracting him. “How’s the jaw?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

“Well, excuse the hell out of me for being concerned.” Trent started to take a pull of beer but pointed the bottle at Violet instead. “Tell her how long my family’s owned this ranch. You ought to know. I remember you had that old brown trailer when I was a kid living here with my folks. You’d just gotten the double-wide when I visited Colby six years ago. Now, go on and tell Shelby that this property rightfully belongs to the Kimballs. Please.”

Violet ignored him. As usual.

Shelby looked like all the air had left her lungs. If she hadn’t been set on taking his last chance away from him, he would’ve felt sorry for her.

He turned back to Violet, who was watching the byplay as if she’d have to testify in court. “You have no intention of straightening this out, do you? Makes sense, since it would be the first nice thing you’ve done since I came back home. I don’t even know why I let you stick around. I should’ve given you the boot.”

Shelby gasped.

He looked at her. “What?”

“Could you be any ruder?”

“Sweetheart, you have no idea.” Trent tossed back more beer, and then wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “You got a problem with my etiquette, there’s the door.”

“Huh.” Shelby sniffed with disdain. “I’m surprised you know such a big word.”

“What?” He snorted. “You mean a Neanderthal like me?”

“Now you’re just showing off.”

Violet’s rusty cackle reminded them she was still there.

Shelby blushed and took a dainty sip.

He probably should’ve offered her a glass. “You gonna tell her, Violet? Instead of letting her get her hopes up.” He did a quick once-over of Shelby, from the top of her tawny hair all the way down to her city boots. “Not that she’d last more than twenty minutes out here.”

“Honey,” she said, her chin lifting, “you have no idea.”

Trent met her feisty green eyes. She had grit, he’d give her that, but with those dainty manicured hands and soft skin, she’d chosen the wrong zip code.

“Well, ain’t you two a pair?” Violet muttered, sounding more troubled than amused. “It’s like watching Harold and Edgar all over again. This isn’t good. Not good at all.”

They exchanged frowns, then both turned their attention to Violet.

Edgar was Trent’s great-grandfather, though he’d died when Trent was eleven, so his memory of him might be a little fuzzy. “So, out with it,” he said. “Say what you want to say.”

“Pigheaded and impatient. You’re just like him,” she said, her fondness for Edgar obvious in the small smile tugging at her weathered mouth. She nodded at Shelby. “Harold was another one. You couldn’t find a pair of mules more ornery than those two boys. Both of them twelve years my senior and acting like kids. Fighting all the time, mostly over nothing at all. Makes a body wonder how they ever became friends much less business partners.”

He watched Violet pour more whiskey, then he glanced at Shelby. From the dread on her face, he figured she was thinking along the same lines as him. Hell, he sure hoped his folks had an honest-to-goodness deed in their possession or this could get sticky.

“Business partners,” Shelby repeated. “What kind of business?”

“Well, the Eager Beaver, of course.”

Trent muttered a quiet curse.

Sighing, Shelby rubbed her left temple.

Mutt stood at the kitchen door and barked. After Trent let him out, he saw Shelby frowning at the unsightly grooves on the doorframe, remnants from Mutt’s habit of scratching to go outside. The job required the wood to be sanded before he could paint. It was on his to-do list along with a hundred other chores.

He had a feeling he was going to need another beer. The fridge door squeaked when he opened it. Just like the other dingy white appliances, the poor old Frigidaire was on its last leg. “Obviously the partnership didn’t work out,” he said, and nodded at Shelby’s nearly empty bottle.

She shook her head. Her resigned expression should’ve made him feel better. It was clear Edgar had stayed and worked the ranch. Had Harold given up his share and moved to Colorado?

Violet wasn’t looking smug as expected, but kind of glum, so he let her be and waited until she was ready to continue.

It was Shelby who finally broke the silence. “I’m not sure what any of this means. Are you saying my great-grandfather sold out to Edgar?”