name’s Louise Talley, by the way.”
“Here’s the address where I need him to pick me up,” Melba handed over a slip of paper that smelled like a mixture of mothballs and dry-cleaning fluid.
“I’m sorry,” Livi started, “but we’re not an escort service. We run a website for women looking to meet cowboys.”
“I don’t care if he’s a cowboy as long as he’s in good shape,” Louise said.
“That’s nice, but we can’t guarantee someone to pick you up next Saturday night—”
“He can meet me there,” Melba cut in. “Just make sure he wears a tie. He’ll have to walk me across the stage.” She reached for her white patent-leather purse. “Cash or credit?”
“We can’t—” Sabrina started, but Livi held up a hand.
“Cash.”
Melba unearthed a coin purse and stared at the two dollar bills inside. “I’m afraid I’ll have to go to the ATM.”
“We’ll be here waiting.”
“What are you doing?” Sabrina asked when the two old women had disappeared.
“Getting rid of them.”
“But they’ll come back.”
“And we won’t be here.” She motioned to the waitress. “Check, please. This place is a dead end,” she told Sabrina. “Let’s head over to the rodeo grounds. Maybe we’ll have better luck there.”
“That seems kind of rude.”
“You know what’s rude? The fact that we’ve explained our business over a zillion times and we keep getting these ridiculous requests. It says right on the pamphlet—meet the cowboy of your dreams. Meet. Not date. Or marry. Or molest. All we do is set up a meet.”
“Maybe we can at least find her a prospect before next week. The actual date would be up to him at that point.”
“Are you kidding me? We’ve got bigger fish to fry. I only managed to snag three profiles this morning. That coupled with the two I picked up last night leaves one hundred and forty-seven more. At this rate, we’ll be over a hundred shy by our deadline. We have to speed up, not slow down and play escort service for the Lost Gun seniors.”
“You’re right.” But that didn’t mean Sabrina wasn’t going to at least keep her eyes open for a prospect. She told Melba Rose as much when she caught her coming out of the feed store next door, cash in hand. “I can’t make any promises, but I’ll try.”
“That’s good enough for me.” Melba made to hand her the cash, but Sabrina waved it away. “If I come up with someone, you can pay the usual posting fee after the fact.”
“Next Saturday at seven,” Melba reminded her. “And I’m negotiable on the teeth.”
“That’s good to know.”
7
“W HAT EXACTLY ARE we doing out here?” The question came from Cole, Billy’s older brother, as they stood in the middle of a huge pasture located behind Big Earl Jessup’s worn-looking house.
Big Earl was a throwback to the good old days when moonshine was just as much a commodity as the cattle grazing in the nearby pastureland. He’d gained notoriety for his white lightning moonshine and his eccentric method of cooking—namely in his deer blind.
Those days were long gone, however, and his great-granddaughter was now cooking up the family recipe in the nearby garage. At least that was the rumor circulating around town, along with several jars of premium, grade A liquor.
At ninety-three, Big Earl spent his days in front of the TV with a tube of Bengay to soothe his severely arthritic joints. He lived just outside of town on several acres guarded by the pair of pit bulls currently tied up on the front porch. The sun had just set and darkness blanketed the area. The only light came from the windows of Big Earl’s house and the lantern in Jesse’s hand.
“The money’s here,” Jesse announced.
Billy’s curiosity piqued and he spoke up. “Silas buried it here?”
“Actually, Big Earl buried it out here. He was Dad’s partner. A silent partner. It turns out that Big Earl was on the construction crew that built the savings and loan some
“Here’s the address where I need him to pick me up,” Melba handed over a slip of paper that smelled like a mixture of mothballs and dry-cleaning fluid.
“I’m sorry,” Livi started, “but we’re not an escort service. We run a website for women looking to meet cowboys.”
“I don’t care if he’s a cowboy as long as he’s in good shape,” Louise said.
“That’s nice, but we can’t guarantee someone to pick you up next Saturday night—”
“He can meet me there,” Melba cut in. “Just make sure he wears a tie. He’ll have to walk me across the stage.” She reached for her white patent-leather purse. “Cash or credit?”
“We can’t—” Sabrina started, but Livi held up a hand.
“Cash.”
Melba unearthed a coin purse and stared at the two dollar bills inside. “I’m afraid I’ll have to go to the ATM.”
“We’ll be here waiting.”
“What are you doing?” Sabrina asked when the two old women had disappeared.
“Getting rid of them.”
“But they’ll come back.”
“And we won’t be here.” She motioned to the waitress. “Check, please. This place is a dead end,” she told Sabrina. “Let’s head over to the rodeo grounds. Maybe we’ll have better luck there.”
“That seems kind of rude.”
“You know what’s rude? The fact that we’ve explained our business over a zillion times and we keep getting these ridiculous requests. It says right on the pamphlet—meet the cowboy of your dreams. Meet. Not date. Or marry. Or molest. All we do is set up a meet.”
“Maybe we can at least find her a prospect before next week. The actual date would be up to him at that point.”
“Are you kidding me? We’ve got bigger fish to fry. I only managed to snag three profiles this morning. That coupled with the two I picked up last night leaves one hundred and forty-seven more. At this rate, we’ll be over a hundred shy by our deadline. We have to speed up, not slow down and play escort service for the Lost Gun seniors.”
“You’re right.” But that didn’t mean Sabrina wasn’t going to at least keep her eyes open for a prospect. She told Melba Rose as much when she caught her coming out of the feed store next door, cash in hand. “I can’t make any promises, but I’ll try.”
“That’s good enough for me.” Melba made to hand her the cash, but Sabrina waved it away. “If I come up with someone, you can pay the usual posting fee after the fact.”
“Next Saturday at seven,” Melba reminded her. “And I’m negotiable on the teeth.”
“That’s good to know.”
7
“W HAT EXACTLY ARE we doing out here?” The question came from Cole, Billy’s older brother, as they stood in the middle of a huge pasture located behind Big Earl Jessup’s worn-looking house.
Big Earl was a throwback to the good old days when moonshine was just as much a commodity as the cattle grazing in the nearby pastureland. He’d gained notoriety for his white lightning moonshine and his eccentric method of cooking—namely in his deer blind.
Those days were long gone, however, and his great-granddaughter was now cooking up the family recipe in the nearby garage. At least that was the rumor circulating around town, along with several jars of premium, grade A liquor.
At ninety-three, Big Earl spent his days in front of the TV with a tube of Bengay to soothe his severely arthritic joints. He lived just outside of town on several acres guarded by the pair of pit bulls currently tied up on the front porch. The sun had just set and darkness blanketed the area. The only light came from the windows of Big Earl’s house and the lantern in Jesse’s hand.
“The money’s here,” Jesse announced.
Billy’s curiosity piqued and he spoke up. “Silas buried it here?”
“Actually, Big Earl buried it out here. He was Dad’s partner. A silent partner. It turns out that Big Earl was on the construction crew that built the savings and loan some
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