One of a Kind: Lionhearted / Letters to Kelly

“What time do you want me to pick you up Saturday night?”

There was a faint hesitation. “You won’t, uh, mention this to Janie?”

“I have as little contact with Janie as I can. You know that,” he said impatiently.

“Just checking,” she teased, but she sounded worried. “I’ll be ready to leave about six.”

“Suppose I pick you up at five and we’ll have supper in Houston before the ballet?”

“Wonderful! I’ll look forward to it. See you then.”

“See you.”

He hung up, but picked up the receiver again and dialed the Brewsters’ number.

As luck would have it, Janie answered.

“Hi, Janie,” he said pleasantly.

“Hi, Leo,” she replied breathlessly. “Want to talk to Dad?”

“You’ll do,” he replied. “I have to cancel for dinner Saturday. I’ve got a date.”

There was the faintest pause. It was almost imperceptible. “I see.”

“Sorry, but it’s a long-standing one,” he lied. “I can’t get out of it. I forgot when I accepted your dad’s invitation. Can you give him my apologies?”

“Of course,” she told him. “Have a good time.”

She sounded strange. He hesitated. “Something wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing at all! Nice talking to you, Leo. Bye.”

Janie Brewster hung up and closed her eyes, sick with disappointment. She’d planned a perfect menu. She’d practiced all week on a special chicken dish that was tender and succulent. She’d practiced an exquisite crème brûlée as well, which was Leo’s favorite dessert. She could even use the little tool to caramelize the sugar topping, which had taken a while to perfect. All that work, and for nothing. She’d have been willing to bet that Leo hadn’t had a date for that night already. He’d made one deliberately, to get out of the engagement.

She sat down beside the hall table, her apron almost stiff with flour, her face white with dustings of it, her hair disheveled. She was anything but the picture of a perfect date. And wasn’t it just her luck? For the past year, she’d mounted a real campaign to get Leo to notice her. She’d flirted with him shamelessly at Micah Steele’s wedding to Callie Kirby, until a stabbing scowl had turned her shy. It had angered him that she’d caught the bouquet Callie had thrown. It had embarrassed her that he glared so angrily at her. Months later, she’d tried, shyly, every wile she had on him, with no success. She couldn’t cook and she was not much more than a fashion plate, according to her best friend, Marilee, who was trying to help her catch Leo. Marilee had plenty of advice, things Leo had mentioned that he didn’t like about Janie, and Janie was trying her best to improve in the areas he’d mentioned. She was even out on the ranch for the first time in her life, trying to get used to horses and cattle and dust and dirt. But if she couldn’t get Leo to the house to show him her new skills, she didn’t have a lot of hope.

“Who was that on the phone?” Hettie, their housekeeper, called from the staircase. “Was it Mr. Fred?”

“No. It was Leo. He can’t come Saturday night. He’s got a date.”

“Oh.” Hettie smiled sympathetically. “There will be other dinners, darlin’.”

“Of course there will,” Janie said and smiled back. She got out of the chair. “Well, I’ll just make it for you and me and Dad,” she said, with disappointment plain in her voice.

“It isn’t as if Leo has any obligation to spend his weekends with us, just because he does a lot of business with Mr. Fred,” Hettie reminded her gently. “He’s a good man. A little old for you, though,” she added hesitantly.

Janie didn’t answer her. She just smiled and walked back into the kitchen.

Leo showered, shaved, dressed to the hilt and got into the new black Lincoln sports car he’d just bought. Next year’s model, and fast as lightning. He was due for a night on the town. And missing Janie’s famous rubber chicken wasn’t going to disappoint him one bit.

His conscience did nag him, though, oddly. Maybe it was just hearing Janie’s friend, Marilee, harp on the girl all the time. In the past week, she’d started telling him some disturbing things that Janie had said about him. He was going to have to be more careful around Janie. He didn’t want her to get the wrong idea. He had no interest in her at all. She was just a kid.

He glanced in the lighted mirror over the steering wheel before he left the sprawling Hart Ranch. He had thick blond-streaked brown hair, a broad forehead, a slightly crooked nose and high cheekbones. But his teeth were good and strong, and he had a square jaw and a nice wide mouth. He wasn’t all that handsome, but compared to most of his brothers, he was a hunk. He chuckled at that rare conceit and closed the mirror. He was rich enough that his looks didn’t matter.

He didn’t fool himself that Marilee would have found him all that attractive without his bankroll. But she was pretty and he didn’t mind taking her to Houston and showing her off, like the fishing trophies he displayed on the walls of his study. A man had to have his little vanities, he told himself. But he thought about Janie’s disappointment when he didn’t show up for supper, her pain if she ever found out her best friend was stabbing her in the back, and he hated the guilt he felt.

He put on his seat belt, put the car in gear, and took off down the long driveway. He didn’t have any reason to feel guilty, he told himself firmly. He was a bachelor, and he’d never done one single thing to give Janie Brewster the impression that he wanted to be the man in her life. Besides, he’d been on his own too long. A cultural evening in Houston was just the thing to cure the blues.

Chapter One

Leo Hart was half out of humor. It had been a long week as it was, and now he was faced with trying to comfort his neighbor, Fred Brewster, who’d just lost the prize young Salers bull that Leo had wanted to buy. The bull was the offspring of a grand champion whose purchase had figured largely in Leo’s improved cross-breeding program. He felt as sad as Fred seemed to.

“He was fine yesterday,” Fred said heavily, wiping sweat off his narrow brow as the two men surveyed the bull in the pasture. The huge creature was lying dead on its side, not a mark on it. “I’m not the only rancher who’s ever lost a prize bull, but these are damned suspicious circumstances.”

“They are,” Leo agreed grimly, his dark eyes surveying the bull. “It’s just a thought, but you haven’t had a problem with an employee, have you? Christabel Gaines said they just had a bull die of unknown causes. This happened after they fired a man named Jack Clark a couple of weeks ago. He’s working for Duke Wright now, driving a cattle truck.”

“Judd Dunn said it wasn’t unknown causes that killed the bull, it was bloat. Judd’s a Texas Ranger,” Fred reminded him. ''If there was sabotage on the ranch he co-owns with Christabel, I think he’d know it. No, Christabel had that young bull in a pasture with a lot of clover and she hadn’t primed him on hay or tannin-containing forage beforehand. She won’t use antibiotics, either, which would have helped prevent trouble. Even so, you can treat bloat if you catch it in time. It was bad luck that they didn’t check that pasture, but Christabel’s shorthanded and she’s back at the vocational school full-time, too. Not much time to check on livestock.”

“They had four other bulls that were still alive,” Leo pointed out, scowling.

Fred shrugged. “Maybe they didn’t like clover, or weren’t in the same pasture.” He shook his head. “I’m fairly sure their bull died of bloat. That’s what Judd thinks, anyway. He says Christabel’s unsettled by having those movie people coming next month to work out a shooting schedule on the ranch and she’s the only one who thinks there was foul play.” Fred rubbed a hand through his silver hair. “But to answer your question—yes, I did wonder about a disgruntled ex-employee, but I haven’t fired anybody in over two years. So you can count out vengeance. And it wasn’t bloat. My stock gets antibiotics.”

“Don’t say that out loud,” Leo chuckled. “If the Tremaynes hear you, there’ll be a fight.”

“It’s my ranch. I run it my way.” Fred looked sadly toward the bull again. He was having financial woes the likes of which he’d never faced. He was too proud to tell Leo the extent of it. “This bull is a hell of a loss right now, too, with my breeding program under way. He wasn’t insured, so I can’t afford to replace him. Well, not just yet,” he amended, because he didn’t want Leo to think he was nearly broke.

“That’s one problem we can solve,” Leo replied. “I’ve got that beautiful Salers bull I bought two years ago, but it’s time I replaced him. I’d have loved to have had yours, but while I’m looking for a replacement, you can borrow mine for your breeding season.”

“Leo, I can’t let you do that,” Fred began, overwhelmed by the offer. He knew very well what that bull’s services cost.

Leo held up a big hand and grinned. “Sure you can. I’ve got an angle. I get first pick of your young bulls next spring.”

“You devil, you,” Fred said, chuckling. “All right, all right. On that condition, I’ll take him and be much obliged. But I’d feel better if there was a man sitting up with him at night to guard him.”

Leo stretched sore muscles, pushing his Stetson back over his blond-streaked brown hair. It was late September, but still very hot in Jacobsville, which was in southeastern Texas. He’d been helping move bulls all morning, and he was tired. “We can take care of security for him,” Leo said easily. “I’ve got two cowboys banged up in accidents who can’t work cattle. They’re still on my payroll, so they can sit over here and guard my bull while they recuperate.”

“And we’ll feed them,” Fred said.

Leo chuckled. “Now that’s what I call a real nice solution. One of them,” he confided, “eats for three men.”

“I won’t mind.” His eyes went back to the still bull one more time. “He was the best bull, Leo. I had so many hopes for him.”

“I know. But there are other champion-sired Salers bulls,” Leo said.

“Sure. But not one like that one,” he gestured toward the animal. “He had such beautiful conformation—” He broke off as a movement to one side caught his attention. He turned, leaned forward and then gaped at his approaching daughter. “Janie?” he asked, as if he wasn’t sure of her identity.

Janie Brewster had light brown hair and green eyes. She’d tried going blond once, but these days her hair was its natural color. Straight, thick and sleek, it hung to her waist. She had a nice figure, a little on the slender side, and pretty little pert breasts. She even had nice legs. But anyone looking at her right now could be forgiven for mistaking her for a young bull rider.