Claimed by a Cowboy

The tiptoeing and whispering was embarrassing—but preferable to another charged encounter with Lorelei Keller. Last night, a number of folks in town had been commiserating over Wanda’s death; though Sam wasn’t usually much of a joiner, he’d ended up drinking with them before walking back to the inn. The sight of Lorelei in the middle of the living room had surprised him. She’d looked like a completely different woman with her arms and shoulders bared in a thin tank top, her long dark hair cascading over her skin.

Or maybe it was the play of vulnerability across her face that had changed her appearance. At any rate, it hadn’t taken him long to realize he was intruding on her grief. He didn’t want to make the same mistake twice, especially on a night when he was bone sore and smelled like horse. He’d spent the day several towns over, helping a friend train an Arabian.

Suddenly a woman’s agitated voice cut through the silence. “Yes, but I’m telling you, that’s not necessary!” After that brief outburst, her voice trailed off some—he could only make out the words information and tomorrow. Whatever Lorelei was feeling in the wake of her mom’s death, he’d been wrong to imagine she was fragile and weepy. Even through a closed door, Sam could hear the steel in her voice.

“She’s about as warm and fuzzy as you are,” he told the cat, scooping canned food onto a small mound of kibble. Sam was just placing the plastic bowl in the floor when light flooded the kitchen. He blinked at the sudden illumination.

Lorelei gasped in the doorway, one hand flattened over her chest. Along with a pair of jeans, she was wearing another sweater that seemed too thick for Texas. “Jeez. What are you doing skulking in the dark? You scared the hell out of me.”

Sam glared. No way was he admitting he’d been sneaking around, trying to make himself as invisible as possible, out of respect to her. “I just came in to feed the cat. Someone should,” he said pointedly.

Her lip curled. “I don’t think vamp-cat wants pet store food. He’s after fresh blood. After trying to take a chunk from my leg yesterday, he lacerated my arm this afternoon when I stopped him from running out the front door.”

“Starving an animal does tend to make it mean.” He didn’t share that he himself had once suggested that Lucifer would be a more appropriate name for the animal.

Lorelei sighed. “You’re probably right. Not that he wasn’t mean to begin with, but I was negligent, forgetting to feed him. I suppose there’s a litter box around here somewhere, too?” She made a face. “I’m not used to taking care of anything.”

“Yeah, you don’t seem like the pet-owner type.”

She narrowed her eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, she sidestepped him. “I just came in here to get a drink. I’ll be out of your way in no time.” When she opened the fridge to retrieve a gallon of lemonade, he saw the mountain of food Ava had stocked was virtually untouched.

“You eat any dinner?” he heard himself ask awkwardly. Stupid question. She’s a grown woman, not the cat. She can feed herself when she chooses.

“Actually, no.” Lorelei sounded bemused by the realization. “Guess I forgot. I’ve been working all evening.”

“Working? Surely your bosses don’t expect you to be on call two days before your mother’s memorial service?” Sam had worked for a few hard-hearted SOBs in his time, but they’d all understood stopping to remember the dead.

“It was my choice. And my business.”

Right—so butt out, cowboy. Message received loud and clear.

He tipped his hat to her. “Good night then, Miss Keller. Oh, but before I forget.” Bending to the cabinet beneath the sink, he retrieved a small trash bag and a slotted plastic scooper. “Here. Cat box is in the sunroom.”

LORELEI’S FINGERS SHOOK as she unlocked the back door on Friday morning. In order to pull out her keys, she’d had to set down the cardboard flat she’d carried. The thought of picking it back up didn’t help her trembling. What she wouldn’t give to be in her office right now.

The desperate thought conjured an image of Sam’s disapproving expression last night. No doubt he considered her an unfeeling ice-queen for obsessing over work at a time like this. Not that she gave a damn about his opinion.

Her job was soothing. Numbers and facts and statistics—they’d always lulled her out of anxiety. Wasn’t that why people were supposed to count sheep? Unfortunately, being an actuary wasn’t really a work-from-home kind of career. She’d prevaricated yesterday. Her hours spent on the phone hadn’t been so much working as turning her projects over to two other junior actuaries at the company. Her supervisor had insisted.

“Take a couple of weeks off,” he’d told her. “You haven’t used a single vacation day in what, over a year? You need it. And we need you at one hundred percent. You’re officially on sabbatical.”

Tears stung her eyes. What her boss saw as sabbatical, she saw as exile from the only thing that might keep her sane through the next few days. Today had been awful, and she still had the memorial service and an obligatory meeting with her mom’s lawyer tomorrow.

Maybe I should have let Ava come with me this morning. The older woman had offered, but Lorelei had suspected her mother’s friend would dissolve into tears, threatening Lorelei’s own composure. Taking a deep breath, she carried the open-topped box inside and set it gingerly on the counter. The green-and-azure urn that rose from within was porcelain, decorated with bluebonnets and Indian paintbrush. Objectively, Lorelei had to admit it was a lovely container. Wanda had selected it to coordinate with her late husband’s urn, which bore a picture of a pecan tree.

Hysteria rose inside of Lorelei and erupted as a horrified giggle. Oh, God. This is all that’s left of my family—matching vases.

Reflexively, she reached into her pocket for her cell phone. She could call Celia, see how the policy presentation—which had been Lorelei’s and had now changed hands—was going. Part of Lorelei acknowledged that she was micromanaging a peer and that she was undoubtedly annoying Celia with her offers to answer questions or to email additional background information. As she dialed, she promised herself she’d do something to make it up to other woman when she returned to Philadelphia. For now, Lorelei just needed to survive the next forty-eight hours.

Chapter Four

Picturesque clouds dotted an impossibly blue sky, uninterrupted by air traffic or hazy pollution—only the occasional songbird in flight. The sun shone, but gently enough that no one broke a sweat, even in black mourning attire or a suit jacket. It was the afternoon every bride would want for her wedding.

Well, except for Wanda, who’d once claimed that she’d been “delighted” it rained during her long-ago September wedding and had in fact been hoping for a downpour. She held with the superstition that rain on a wedding day meant good luck. Another tradition she’d embraced was the prewedding Polterabend. Many dishes had been broken in hopes of bringing luck to the happy couple.

Lorelei’s throat tightened as she thought of pictures she’d seen of her parents’ wedding day. They’d been so young and in love! Neither of them had been old enough to die. Yet here Lorelei was once again at a family-owned funeral home that had been part of the community for a hundred years, entering through the same white columns she’d passed through on the day of her father’s memorial service.

One of the brothers who ran the place was at her side immediately, murmuring his condolences and ushering her to the salon where her mother was being honored today. They’d done a lovely job displaying portraits amid floral arrangements, but the overpowering scent of so many competing flowers in a closed space made Lorelei’s nose twitch and irritated her eyes.

Ava and her husband arrived first, immediately followed by other people who had adored Wanda. A crowd gathered around Lorelei, men and women anxious to share their memories of her mother. All around her, the town’s citizens regaled each other with stories. The room took on a buzz that made her feel as if she were trapped in a beehive. Lorelei knew her mom had been a very gracious person, could remember the comfort Wanda had taken in those close to her when her husband had passed. Wanda had laughed with them, cried with them and hugged everyone.

In contrast, Lorelei seemed to stiffen at contact. After thirty minutes, her head throbbed. She kept eyeing the door, wanting to escape and steal a few moments of peace for herself before the official service began.

Halfway through yet another recollection from the head librarian, a woman who had helped Wanda do folklore research for the B and B, Lorelei finally interrupted. “I’m sorry,” she said, placing a conciliatory hand on the woman’s arm. “If you’ll please excuse me for a moment, I just need…” To get the hell out of here. Luckily, the circumstances didn’t require an excuse. The small circle of people who’d gathered around her nodded sympathetically and immediately broke formation so she could pass.

Lorelei went as quickly as decorum allowed toward a side door that led into the employee parking lot. She figured there was less risk that way for running into anyone. The service started in fifteen minutes, and there might still be mourners arriving through the front door.

She stepped outside, lifted her face to the breeze and inhaled deeply when the door shut, muffling the conversations she’d left behind.

“How’re you holding up?”

Whipping her head around, she spotted Sam Travis. He was perched on the ramp railing that ran the length of the building. She’d seen him earlier—without his cowboy hat, for once—talking to Clinton and Ava Hirsch, and she’d been relieved when he didn’t approach her. Sam made her…uneasy, a sensation she hadn’t experienced in a long time.

By the end of elementary school, she’d known she didn’t fit in with other kids. They labeled her a math geek and didn’t invite her to the giggly slumber parties her female classmates later rehashed in the cafeteria. She’d told herself it didn’t matter. At thirteen, she’d decided she was getting out of town as soon as possible. In college, she’d bonded with students similar to her and had been comfortable in her own skin ever since. She knew who she was and what she wanted out of life. She made sensible decisions, such as dating imminently compatible men and not wearing ridiculously high-heeled shoes that could injure her joints or back.

But something about Sam made her feel as if she were teetering even in her practical pumps. She swallowed. “Wh-what are you doing out here?”

“Same thing as you. Hiding.”

She bristled at the implied cowardice. “I’m not ‘hiding,’ Mr. Travis. I just—”

“Easy, darlin’. I wasn’t criticizing. There are a lot of very emotional, very talkative people in that building. Enough to make anyone skittish.” He shook his head. “Not that Wanda would have bolted. She was damn good at listening to everyone, making them feel welcome. Special.”

Lorelei was torn. She knew what he meant, yet how many times growing up had she tried to explain to her mother how she felt? How often had Lorelei retreated to her room, frustrated that her mother wouldn’t listen?

“I’ve always felt so removed from her,” Lorelei heard herself admit. She wasn’t sure why she was confiding in him, but she’d be gone soon—back to her real life—so what did it matter? “I tried telling myself I take after Dad, but I don’t think it’s true. He and Mom were like two peas in a pod, and I was, I don’t know, some kind of changeling baby.” Of all the crazy legends her mom had ever voiced, that one Lorelei could have believed.

Sam squinted at her from his spot in the shade. “You were how old when you lost your dad?”

“Six when he was diagnosed, seven when he died.”

“I was nine when I lost my father. I don’t know about you, but a lot of the memories I have are hazy. Maybe you’re more like him than you recall.”

There he went again, knocking her off balance. She hadn’t expected him to try to comfort her. Nor had she expected them to have anything in common. She wondered how he’d lost his own father, if the tragedy had brought Sam and his mother closer.

“I should go back inside,” she said, unenthusiastic about the prospect. “The service will be starting soon.” The hours she’d spent working on the eulogy had been grueling, but she didn’t back down from a challenge.

Sam nodded. “I’ll be along in a minute. You look real nice, by the way.”

Could he guess how many times she’d changed, trying to decide the right thing to wear? The navy-and-yellow print sheath dress allowed her to wear the big bright yellow earrings her mom had sent for her birthday; the cropped navy blazer helped subdue the outfit enough for the occasion.

Wanting to downplay the way she’d overanalyzed her decision, she made light of Sam’s compliment, keeping her voice wry enough that he wouldn’t take her seriously. “I don’t think it’s appropriate to flirt with the deceased’s daughter.”

He rolled his eyes. “I just meant it’s good to see you wearing some color. She would have liked that.”

“Says the man in head-to-toe black?” She doubted Sam owned a suit. Today he was showing respect in black boots, crisp jeans that looked starched to within an inch of their life and a black button-down shirt that was a dramatic foil to his light hair and eyes.

“Well.” His expression didn’t change, but there was a grin in his voice. “I had planned to accessorize with yellow, too, but I couldn’t find my headband.”

Lorelei laughed before she could stop herself. “I’ll see you inside. And thank you.”

He inclined his head in a silent “you’re welcome,” and she turned to go. When she’d fled the guests in the building, her body had been rigid with tension. Now, though far from relaxed, she felt calm enough to deliver her mother’s eulogy. How had a virtual stranger Lorelei didn’t especially like known what to say? He’d even made her laugh, which was a hell of a feat on this particular occasion.

Lorelei still didn’t have the whole story on how Sam and Wanda had become friends, but she understood how much her flamboyant mother had appreciated people who were unpredictable. And Sam Travis was full of surprises.

THE BARRAGE OF MOURNERS and conversation didn’t stop after the memorial service; it followed Lorelei back to the inn. She would forever be grateful to local B and B owners Clare Theo and Bertha Hoffman—women who’d respected Wanda enough to want to honor her without being so close to her that they were overcome with their own grief. They took point on making gallons of coffee and splitting hostess duties, managing the flow of traffic through the downstairs rooms.

Though his truck was in its customary spot out back, Lorelei hadn’t spotted Sam in the throng. Was he avoiding the crowd, sequestered away in his room, or was he in this crush somewhere? People kept coming up to hug her and present her with foil-covered dishes. She had enough king ranch casseroles and pecan pies to last until summer. Thank God her mother had purchased a deep freeze, because the refrigerator was long past full.

“Lorelei?” Ava’s voice broke through the hum of surrounding conversations. “Lorelei, dear?”

Lorelei glanced over a petite blonde who’d been extolling the virtues of cheddar mashed potatoes as comfort food and saw Ava totter into the formal dining room, wobbling on fancy shoes and too little sleep. Lorelei thanked the guest whose name she’d never quite caught and met Ava in the center of the room.

“I’m glad to see a friendly face,” Lorelei said. “This is all a bit…overwhelming.”

“Let’s go upstairs,” Ava suggested. She hesitated before adding, “The lawyer’s ready for us.”

Lorelei had met Robert Stork earlier in the week when he’d come by with a fruit basket to offer his condolences. He was a sandy-haired man with a round face that made him look barely old enough to drive. She’d been startled when he first introduced himself.

“But Mr. Stork is a white-haired man shorter than I am,” she’d blurted, remembering the attorney from her dad’s death.

“You’re thinking of my father, for whom I’m named,” Robert the younger had said. “He’s retired and plays a lot of golf now. I took over the family business.”

And part of Stork Jr.’s business was to go over Wanda’s last wishes with Lorelei and Ava.

Lorelei took a deep breath, steadying herself. “Lead the way.”

Instead of going up the steps at the front of the house where all the guests were, the two women detoured to the laundry room and took the narrow spiral of back stairs. Library was a rather pretentious term for what Lorelei suspected had once been a generously sized walk-in closet. The cramped area was furnished with four chairs too close together for personal space and built-in shelves, probably meant for linens but now filled with books. Still, the tiny room had the advantage of being removed from the nonstop conversation and parade of food on the first floor.

Just before they reached the room, Ava paused, twisting the slim gold bracelets on her wrist.

“What is it?” Lorelei asked. For obvious reasons, Ava hadn’t been very jovial today. Yet now her expression seemed particularly troubled.

“I…nothing, dear. We should probably get this over with.”

Lorelei offered a nod of encouragement and they proceeded. Surprisingly, two of the four chairs were already filled. In addition to the lawyer, Sam Travis was also present. Lorelei’s eyebrows rose. Then again, maybe she shouldn’t be so surprised to see him. He’d obviously cared enough about Wanda to brave her demon cat; it would be like Lorelei’s mother to leave him something to remember her by, something of sentimental value. Lorelei studied the tall man, hunched in his chair and staring intently at his folded hands. Sam Travis didn’t seem like a man who was easily sentimental.

Ava slid into the chair next to Mr. Stork. That left Lorelei with the seat closest to Sam, a rather pointless distinction since all four chairs were so close their occupants could practically bump knees. With Sam’s kindness to her earlier still fresh in mind, she tried exchanging smiles with the man but he wouldn’t meet her gaze. The expression froze awkwardly on her face as she took her seat. This wasn’t an appropriate time to be grinning at cowboys, anyway. She adopted the air of solemn reserve she used to get through difficult meetings, the ones where she had to tell people things they didn’t want to hear, and looked expectantly at the attorney.

Robert’s ruddy complexion flushed an ever deeper red as he sorted through pages. “As all three of Wanda Keller’s beneficiaries are now present, I shall begin?” In contrast to the words, his tone was pure halting question, as if he were a timid boy asking a parent’s permission to stay up past his bed time.

Ava patted his hand. “You’re doing fine.”

Just how recently had his father retired? Lorelei wondered. He gave the impression this was his first day on the job.

“Thank you, Mrs. Hirsch. We’ll start with you, with a message from Wanda.” He shuffled his papers some more, stopping a moment later and clearing his throat. “‘To my friend Ava, thank you for always being there. I can’t express my gratitude for your support over the years. You are such a special, generous soul that even Oberon likes you.’”

Stiffening in her chair, Ava muttered, “The hell he does.”

Robert ignored the aside and kept reading. “‘I even thought of asking you to be his guardian once I’ve passed, but ultimately decided that he should stay with the inn. After all, it’s his home.’”

Stay with the inn? Lorelei managed not to grimace. How was she going to make that a condition of sale? Beautiful, well-kept bed-and-breakfast…plus, one evil-tempered feline with possible Satanic affiliations. Her attention divided, Lorelei listened absently as Robert detailed the personal possessions Wanda had wanted her best friend to have. Among the keepsakes were an antique tea set, a fluted stoneware pie plate, a silver pig charm bracelet and Wanda’s dragonfly wind chimes. It was difficult to imagine standing downstairs in the kitchen and not hearing their music tinkling through the window.

Not that she would be standing in the B-and-B kitchen after this trip, she reminded herself. It was right that Ava should take the chimes. They should go to someone who’d known how much Wanda loved them. She’d believed they brought a bit of good luck each time they rang.

Robert turned to Lorelei, his expression apologetic. “You’re listed next, Miss Keller. Do you…need a moment? Before we continue?”

And drag out what had already been one of the longest, most difficult days of her life? “No. Let’s keep this moving along,” she suggested, her voice tense.

Her tone must have been sharper than intended because Robert flinched. For his sake, she hoped he never saw the inside of a courtroom because opposing counsel would eat him alive. Poor man looked afraid of his own shadow.

“First, there’s the matter of your parents’ ashes. Wanda Keller asked that her remains and her late husbands’ be eventually combined and sprinkled somewhere in the Hill Country, as this was their home. The exact place is to be determined by you, but I can assist you in matters of state law and regulations.” He withdrew a thick folder from his briefcase and handed it to Lorelei. “Inside that is a specific itemization and financial statements, but, to summarize, ‘I leave my strong, independent daughter, Lorelei, my remaining personal effects, all belongings not specifically tied to the decoration and running of the bed-and-breakfast. I hope she will use my things and remember her mother, who loved her. I also leave her the balance of my checking and savings accounts. To Samuel…’”

Lorelei blinked, confused. She hadn’t been aware that Stork had already moved on to the next person. A number of questions churned in her mind. Was the deed to the inn one of the things listed in the hefty folder she’d been given? She tried to process what her mother had meant by “not tied to the bed-and-breakfast.” Did that mean the décor in the themed rooms and equipment like the bread machine and coffeemaker were to be sold along with the B and B?

Robert coughed and start again. “‘T-to Samuel Travis, I leave all the money in my business account, which he will need to manage the inn as I am leaving him the Haunted Hill Country Bed-and-Breakfast.’”

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