“YOU’RE DOING WHAT?” Mac demanded as his eyeglasses clattered to the tabletop.
The four Temple brothers sat around a table on the back patio of The Wild Horse Saloon, a honky-tonk joint that also served the best steaks in Kilgore—apart from Hunt’s restaurant at Temple Territory, of course. Most of the action was clustered around the stage inside where the band played. Locals, including students at Kilgore College, crowded the dance floor to do the Texas two-step and unwind after a busy work week.
Hunt’s wife, Gillian, and Sarah, a young widow who’d recently wed Hunt’s twin, Cullen, had taken Sarah’s three daughters to Longview for a movie. The brothers saw this as an opportunity for a Meeting of the Brotherhood, as they affectionately called their impromptu men-only gatherings. They’d been calling them that as long as Joiner could remember, when he and Mac initiated the younger twins into the clubhouse that used to be in their parents’ yard.
“I’m moving into an RV on that place I wanted to buy. Buster Scout’s place.”
Mac picked up his rectangular wire-rimmed glasses from the table and set them back on his nose, as if to see Joiner better. “The place you’re not buying? You’re going to squat there in an RV?”
Joiner shook his head. “The RV is a guesthouse of sorts on the property. Mr. Scout is renting it to me in exchange for some help on the ranch. Plus, he has a place I can board Pistol and hopefully start breeding him so I can save some money.”
“Is that what this is about? Joiner, I told you if you needed money—”
“And I appreciate that you agreed to cosign the loan with me for the land if I could buy it, but Mr. Scout decided not to sell it. And that’s probably for the best right now. I can keep what little I have left in the bank and add to it, get back on my feet. Then maybe when the right place comes along down the road, I won’t need a cosigner.”
“Sounds like a good plan to me.” Hunt’s gray eyes danced as he helped the server distribute the plates. Each brother had ordered a T-bone, but they all preferred their own degrees of doneness.
The waitress—a girl with big blond hair—studied Hunt’s face for a moment as she handed him a plate. “You look just like my favorite professor!”
Hunt grinned and flung out his arm to announce that Cullen was across the table. She promptly turned all of her attention to him.
“Dr. Temple! How are you doing? I was in your American History class last semester.” The girl made no effort to conceal her admiration.
“I remember you, Katie. It’s nice to see you again.”
When she finally exited the patio after several minutes of chatting with Cullen, Hunt cackled. Then in a falsetto voice, he said, “Oh, Dr. Cullen! Your lectures are so enthralling! I only fell asleep three times! But it’s such a shame you’re not as good-looking as the Cowboy Chef!”
Cullen rolled his eyes in Hunt’s direction.
“I thought it was pretty funny that she compared the Cowboy Chef to Dr. Cullen, and not the other way around.” Joiner cut into his steak. “That must burn.”
Hunt frogged Joiner in the arm. “You just wish you were our triplet, pretty boy.”
“Well, I can tell you I don’t get admirers very often, even though I’m obviously the more attractive twin.” Cullen forked a bite of steaming baked potato that was dripping with melted butter. “Did you find out anything on the history of Buster Scout’s place while you were there?”
“Only that it belonged to his wife’s family. She died a long while ago in a freak accident with a horse, and I guess it went to him and his daughter. It’s a heck of a place.”
“I think I remember something about that accident.” Mac rubbed his chin. “It happened right after I moved back here and set up shop. I consulted with Mr. Scout over some tax issues, helped him get things with his wife’s will straightened out. Nice guy. Kind of an original, as I remember.”
“That’s him. He could have his own reality show, he and his daughter. They’re like the Texas version of characters from Duck Dynasty.”
“And now you’re joining the show.”
“Well, I would hate for Hunt to be the lone star in our family.” Joiner couldn’t resist the pun.
His three brothers groaned in unison, then Cullen asked, “What time do you want us there to help you move in the morning?”
They all looked at Joiner. He’d always been able to count on the Brotherhood, no matter what.
“Thanks, guys, but I don’t have anything to move besides a few boxes and Pistol. It won’t be any big deal.”
* * *
“NO BIG DEAL?” Stella, remembering her earlier conversation with her father, set down her book a little too loudly and whipped off her red reading glasses. Mugsy jumped down from the couch and regarded her with suspicion.
Buster, who had kicked back in his leather recliner, didn’t stir from his comfortable position. Mitzi was sprawled out across his chest lengthwise, snoring.
“I can’t believe you think this is no big deal,” she repeated.
Buster opened one eye and Stella glared into it.
He closed it quickly, like pulling down a shade.
“Pops! You should have consulted with me first before offering to let him live here. Instead you let him sweet-talk you. And I’d like to have seen his horse before you said he could board him in our stable. What if the horse is dangerous?”
“Good grief, woman. We’ve been through this.” Buster raised his head slightly so as not to disturb Mitzi. “He didn’t sweet-talk me. It was practically my idea. And I thought you’d be happy to have some free labor. At least I didn’t sell him any land.”
“I am happy about that.” Stella shrugged and put her glasses back on. She smoothed her cotton pajamas and tucked her feet up under her. Then she remembered something. “But isn’t there some scandal with the Temple family? I wouldn’t want that to affect my school.”
Buster sighed heavily. “Anybody who still cares about that scandal is nobody I’d want on my ranch, school or no school.”
Stella raised her eyebrows.
Buster continued, “Pap Temple did steal oil, but the big oil companies were so greedy there was no real harm, in my opinion, in Pap taking a few million barrels. Those were different times.” He snorted. “In fact, I admire his gumption for doing it, and his guts in taking his punishment after he was caught instead of filling his wells with cement like some others did to avoid prosecution.”
“I didn’t know all of that,” Stella said quietly.
As though sensing the storm had passed, at least for the time being, Mugsy jumped back onto the couch and resumed his post at her side.
* * *
WHEN STELLA AWOKE the next
