Trey drove up to Twin Oaks, parked, and cut his pickup’s rumbling engine. He’d already corralled Kent and Slade, a Steele cousin, into returning Ruby’s truck. He could see it parked beside the barn. His cousins might still be here, so he hoped he’d brought enough barbeque.
He took a deep breath and felt his mouth water at the smell of the grub he’d bought in Old Town. After ranch chores, plus this morning’s firefighting, he was mighty hungry. He glanced around the area, like he always did, looking for trouble. All the firefighters kept an eye out for Ruby and her place since she lived alone. She knew to call one of them if she had a water pipe break or other problem, but sometimes pride got in the way of common sense. At the moment, everything on the property looked mowed, edged, caulked, and painted.
He grabbed the sacks of food and stepped outside. Sun was almost down, so the air was cooler, but not by much. He checked the sky in all directions for traces of smoke. He took a deep breath. No smell of smoke either, now that he’d washed it out of his hair with a shower and changed clothes. After the grass fire, he still felt on edge. That’d been way too close for comfort. If his Christmas angel hadn’t arrived in time, there’d be no barbeque or spring tonight. Volunteers would still be out there trying to put out the prairie, or Dudley’s ranch house, or maybe the Texas Timber Christmas tree farm. The blaze had been headed that way.
A white van was nosed up beside Misty’s SUV. He figured the vehicle belonged to the antique dealers Ruby had mentioned were staying at her place. He gave the vehicle a closer look. A lot of dust clung to the tires and turned the white paint a dingy gray. Odd. The vehicle looked more like it’d been driven on backcountry roads or pasture instead of pavement. Who knew where dealers went to find old stuff?
As he crunched across the dry grass, he thought about his Christmas list. He’d rewritten it with Misty’s name in the number one spot and snow as number two. He’d put the sticky note back under his Frosty the Snowman refrigerator magnet. Maybe like would beget like. He’d even settle for a good gully washer, they needed water so bad. Right now the area was a tinderbox just waiting for a carelessly thrown cigarette butt on Wildcat Road or any back road.
As Trey walked around to the front of the house, a white cat jumped down from Big John’s lower limb and headed at a trot toward him. No doubt Temple could smell the meat, but Trey liked to think the cat liked him and felt safe around him. Cats, dogs, and horses tended to like him. They knew he was a critter-friendly guy. He set the paper bags down on a corner of the brick flower bed, opened one sack, and selected a sliver of beef. Temple leaped up on the brick, blue eyes bright with impatience.
“Don’t ever tell me I didn’t give you a Christmas present.” He set down the meat and picked up the bags.
Temple meowed before he delicately began to eat, particularly meticulous about keeping his bright white fur clean.
“You’re welcome.” Trey patted the cat on his head, received a loud purr in response, and then stepped inside the garden room. “Hey folks, supper’s on!”
When there was no reply, he moved into the living room. Ruby stood with two strangers near the peacock tree. No Misty. He felt a stab of annoyance. Had Kent gone behind his back and taken his Christmas angel out for dinner? If he had, there’d be hell to pay.
Ruby glanced over. “Hey, Trey. Smells good. Come on in. Meet my guests, J.P. and Charlene Gladstone. They’re scouting around for antiques.” She motioned in his direction. “Trey Duval is a local rancher.”
“Pleased to meet you.” He held up the sacks. “Anybody interested in the best piping-hot barbeque in town with curly fries and jack-cheese-stuffed jalape?os? I even got some peach turnover fried pies.”
Ruby rubbed her tummy. “Took you long enough. Is that Lula Mae’s?”
“Yep. Chuckwagon Café at its finest.”
“I saw that quaint little place in Old Town and wanted to try it,” Charlene said.
“Now’s your chance.”
“Good food. Good company. Nothing better.” J.P. shook Trey’s hand. “I’m so hungry I could eat a horse and chase the rider.”
Trey joined the laughter at the old joke as he eyed the newcomers. Good-looking, put-together city folks. Not quite comfortable here. Charlene was giving him the once-over like she wasn’t real committed to her marriage. Sure raised his hackles. He ought to keep an eye on them since they were sharing the upper floor with Misty and living in Ruby’s home.
He took the three steps up to the kitchen and plopped the sacks on the countertop.
Ruby joined him. “Barbeque still hot?”
“You bet.” He glanced upstairs. “Misty in her room?”
“Nope.”
He frowned as the irritation surged back. “Kent didn’t—”
“Simmer down.” She tugged containers out of the sacks and took a deep breath. “Kent brought my truck by and left.”