"The treasure lies within." ~ Mason to his sons when they wanted to know if there was such a thing as fairy dust on butterfly wings, and a box of Civil War gold in the well on Widow Fancy's farm

 

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PROLOGUE

 

     At exactly midnight, as a chilly November turned into a stormy, colder December, Mason Jefferson walked into the main house at Union Junction, wondering if he was ready to return home after being gone so many months. 

     There were ten women in sleeping bags around the fireplace, which had now burned nearly to embers.  His jaw dropped, and he felt a sweat break along the back of his neck, despite the room's warmth.  There were pretty faces, open-mouthed faces, snoring faces, faces mashed into pillows.

     Clearly nothing had changed around Malfunction Junction.  Possibly the situation had worsened.

     It gave a man pause about the reason he'd stayed gone so long:  Mimi Cannady, his next-door-neighbor, and wife to another man.  If women were so easily found, if they dropped easily into a man's den like blossoms from a cherry tree, if there were many more unattached females than not always hanging around the Jefferson ranch, then why was it he couldn't get over the only woman he never thought he loved as more than a meddlesome baby sister?

     I came home too soon, Mason thought.

     A crash sounded upstairs and a baby wailed.  Mason closed his eyes.  I stayed gone too long. 

     And he had not a single lead on whatever had happened to the father of the twelve Jefferson brothers, Maverick.

     "Hi, Mason."  One of the women raised her head, and Mason felt a sense of relief.  It was Lily of the Union Junction hair salon in Union Junction.  He and his brothers had helped set up her and her sister stylists in business in the town, after Delilah Honeycutt had to let them go.

     "Hey, Lily," he said.  "Go back to sleep.  Didn't mean to wake you."  He jerked his head toward the ceiling.  "Think I'll go scare my brothers and see whose baby they're torturing."

     Lily smiled.  "Welcome home."  She put her head down and Mason saw her eyes close.  Sighing, he headed up the stairs.

     In the second-floor family room, there were five brothers and a baby.  A sweetly chubby baby, maybe a year old, he guessed, from the three tiny blond curls on the back of her head and her consciously-erect posture.  The brothers were arranged in a semi-circle, all of them flat on their chests staring at it as the baby stared back at them.  It was like a Mexican standoff, and the baby was winning, clearly bemusing her older companions.

     It wasn't worth wondering whose baby it was.  What mattered was that it seemed nothing had changed around Malfunction Junction.  Still fun and games.  "Howdy."

     His brothers stared at him.  Calhoun jumped to his feet.  "Mason!"

     Mason tossed his hat on the sofa.  "I wasn't gone long enough for any of you to have a baby."

     The other brothers halted, arrested mid-rise.

     "True," Calhoun said.  "This is not our baby, per se."

     The baby turned her head to look up at him, and Mason felt his heart stop inside his chest.  He would know that baby in a field of children; he could pick her out with ease.  Fair, fine blonde curls, big blue eyes that were her mother's, the sparkle of mischief in her eyes as she'd enjoyed commanding the attention of her covey of "uncles."

     "It's Nanette," Bandera said.  "We're helping Mimi out 'cause she's been cooking for all of us and the ladies."

     "Heat went out over the salon.  Been out for three days," Last said.  "Seemed the right thing to do to bring them here."

     Crockett nodded.  "They stood it as long as they could.  We found out they weren't telling us, and had Shoeshine bring them over here in his bus."

     Mason ignored his brother's blabbering, bending instead to scoop up Nanette and hold her to him.  She didn't cry out at the chill in his fingers.  Instead, she touched his face, patting it with curiosity, though he told himself she touched him because she recognized him.  "Been a long time since I held you," he murmured to her, so that his brothers couldn't hear.  "You can sit up now.  When I last saw you, you were just a tiny potato.  I didn't know you would grow so fast," he said, nuzzling her.  "You weren't supposed to grow up without me.  I missed you."  She patted his face again, and his eyes welled up with tears he wouldn't let his brothers see.  "I shouldn't have left you."

      The softness of her skin and her instant trust of him shattered his so barely-healed heart.  Being gone hadn't solved a damn thing.  He still loved Mimi, in a way he knew he should not.  And he loved her child, the child he'd helped deliver, as if she were his very own.

     In his heart, she was his very own.

     Mason gruffly cleared his throat, aware that his brothers were uncomfortably silent.  "What else did I miss?" he demanded.

     The brothers glanced at each other.  Last looked ill.

     "How about we talk later?" Calhoun asked.  

     "We can talk now," Mason said.

     "Not really," Calhoun said, glowering.  "We've been amusing twelve months of dynamite.  We're torn between using pacifiers, sippie cups, back rubs, and guitar lullabies as good luck charms to ward off the displeasure this child seems to feel at being out of its element.  She doesn't like us, and quite frankly, we're beginning to wonder why babies aren't stored in pods until they ripen."

     "We've had some ripe occasions," Archer said.  "That one, delicate flower that she may be, can put forth some really ripe diapers."

     "What we're trying to say, Mason," Bandera said, "is that we're tired.  We're actually ragged.  Let's get one thing straight from the start.  You left.  You took your bad moods and your broken heart and you deserted us.  We've handled everything while you were gone.  Now, we're of no mind for you to walk in here and demand answers."

     "That's right," Crockett said, "we get first shot at Answer Number One."

     Calhoun stood tall, crossing his arms.  "Exactly.  And our first question is, "what in the hell do you think gave you the right to disappear like that?"

     Mason stiffened.  He'd had no right; it was just something he'd had to do.  But he couldn't explain that to his brothers.  What did they know of broken hearts, except when they were haphazardly doing the breaking?

     Calhoun looked at him curiously.  "Yeah, and while you're thinking of the answer, Mr. Wandering Foot, you might be interested to know that Mimi's filed for divorce from Brian."

Mason instantly went cold.

 

  

CHAPTER ONE

 

Nudes.  Calhoun Jefferson loved painting nudes, he loved bare, nude colors, and he loved women who were willing to get nude.  That was the gold mine of the eyes' bounty:  women in the flesh, the different, varieting tones and colors that harmonized with female personalities.  Dark, light, medium—he loved all the colors under the sun.

     Particularly nude.

     Some men saw heaven in a sunset.  Some found God in the ocean's waves and secretive depths.  "Ah, for me, it's the color of a nipple shadowed against the velvet of rounded breast, the shades contrasting and yet complimenting, so tantalizing in hue," Calhoun explained to his brothers.

     "Oh, God," Last said on a moan.  "He's been to Hooters again."

     "I have not," Calhoun said, indignantly slinging a saddle over a wooden rail.  "I'm trying to explain my latest work of art to you under-cultured dunces.  I'm calling it 'Hues from Heaven'."

     "I feel more cultured already," Crockett said.  "Gee, and my IQ has risen commensurately."

     Calhoun sighed.  "I'm heading over to Lonely Hearts Station for the rodeo.  Anybody interested in going?"

     "What for?" Archer asked.  "Wait a minute, are you paintin' hooves again?"

     Calhoun stood straight, staring at his brothers.  "It just so happens that, this time, I'm entered, thank you very much."

     "Entered as what?" Bandera asked.  "Rodeo clown?"

     "Rider," Calhoun said, deciding he wasn't going to let his brothers' jiving get to him.  Let them do something besides rag.  He had a mission today, and that was to advertise his afternoon art showing of first-class nudes.

     Of course, this wasn't anything he wanted Mason to know about.  Or any of his brothers.  They simply did not understand his love of artistic nudity.

     "What I just can't get," Last said, "is if you like nekkid women so much, why don't you just get you one?  We got about ten sleeping in our house, if you weren't too scared to notice.  Just a set of jammies or a big sleep shirt between you and heaven's bounty.  I say, pick one, already."

     Calhoun felt heat color his neck and rise up under his hat.  "Have you been too scared to tell Mason that you have a woman living at the ranch who's expecting your child?" he asked, his tone deliberate and mild.

     Every brother went still.  Not even a jaw moved as they stared at Last.

     "He just got home yesterday," Last said, "and he's been hiding from Mimi.  I think I'd better give him a few more days to settle back in."
     His point made, Calhoun walked from the barn.  He wasn't scared of women!  He revered women.  And that was his brothers' problems, one of a thousand.  They didn't understand that a man didn't necessarily have to sleep with his passion.

     Of course, it was nice when he could.

     But sleeping around had gotten some of the brothers married lately, and one of them expecting a child.  "I'm figuring on keeping my jeans zipped, a lesson no one else around here seems to want to learn," he muttered, getting into his truck.  "Broken bones, babies, wedding rings—I'd say that nude women on canvas are a helluva lot safer than women in the flesh."

*     *     *

     Olivia Spinlove knew about broken hearts and broken homes.  She knew about cowboys and broken promises.  She also knew about breaking bad patterns—and when her children, Minnie and Kenny dragged the long, lean, hotly handsome cowboy toward her—Olivia defiantly crossed her arms over her chest.  "Hello," she said, her voice chilly.  "I must apologize if my children have been bothering you."

     "Not at all, ma'am," he said, lifting his hat and showing a toothy grin.  "I find them charming."

     "We got lost," Kenny said. 

     Sure they did, Olivia thought.  They'd been raised in rodeo.  They knew where their grandfather was, and where the trailer was.  "Thank you for escorting them back to me," Olivia said.  "Sometimes they can be quite the handful."

     "No, we're not," Minnie said.  "We're angels."  And she grinned up at the cowboy.

     Olivia shivered.  "Excuse us."  She took the children by their hands and led them back to the trailer.  Once inside, she sat them on the bed.  "Minnie, Kenny," she began, "no.  No, no, no."

     The children looked at her woefully.  "We need help," Minnie pointed out.  "Grandpa's getting too old to do the act."

     They were speaking of Grandpa Barley's knees being too arthritic to jump in and out of barrels these days.  Olivia knew they were right, but that didn't mean they were going to interview cowboys at every rodeo in the United Stated until they found one suitable for their act.  "Your grandfather is fine, for now," she told them.  "Please don't worry so much."  She hugged them to her.  "Really.  It's going to be fine."

     "How?" Minnie asked.  "How is it going to be fine when we don't have an act?"  Her large eyes looked at her mother, eyes that were too old for her nine years and too worried.  So little childish spirit lingered in her gaze.  Olivia smiled at her daughter, kissing her forehead.  "Trust me, it's going to be fine."

     Kenny began to bite at a hangnail.  "It's not fine," the young boy said.  "I could get in the barrels, and Gypsy could find me instead of Grandpa."

     How could she explain to him that Gypsy and Grandpa were a team, and that teams couldn't be broken apart?  Once one member of the team no longer worked, the other went to pasture, too?  At least in this case.  Barley and his Gypsy were horse and man who could not be separated.  Tough old dad, Olivia thought.  Tough old hoss.

     Feeding them, and taking care of her family.

     "Here's the deal," she told the kids.  "I have to go ride Gypsy in a bit.  If you promise not to 'interview' anymore cowboys for Grandpa's job, I'll let you go watch the bullriding.  If not, you can stay inside the trailer and do some math charts and spelling.  I know you love to study, but I heard that there was going to be a super-special bull tonight—" she lowered her voice for excitement, "and no cowboy can stay on this bull.  It's a bounty bull.  Mean as a three-headed rattler."

     "Whoa!" Kenny breathed.  "I gotta see that!"

     "Me, too."  Minnie slid off the bed.  "It's a deal.  No more cowboys tonight, Mom."

     "Ever."

     "Okay," Minnie said, giving up the promise at least, Olivia figured, until tomorrow.  "No more cowboys."

     "Good.  I'll see you after the events.  Kenny, stay with Minnie, and Minnie, you know the rules."

     "Yes, I do," Minnie said, taking her brother's hand as the left.  "No, no, no."

     Olivia smiled as her children left the trailer.  Someday she'd explain to them that their father had been a cowboy, one with a wandering heart—and though she loved her children dearly, the reason they were all in the shape they were in today was because Olivia had fallen under the spell of the Elusive Sexy Cowboy.

     No more spells for her.

*     *     *

     "Whoa," Kenny said, fifteen minutes later, having hotfooted it to see the bull of which his mother had spoken.  "Look at the size of'im!"

     Minnie nodded.  "He's going to throw his cowboy into the next state."

     Kenny giggled.  "I can't wait.  Cowboy's gonna look like a smushed grape by the time Bloodthirsty Black gets through with him."

     "I like that name," Minnie said thoughtfully.  "The cowboy who stays on him wins a lot of money, cuz no one ever has."

     "How much money?" Kenny asked.

     "I don't know . . . wait a minute."  Minnie squinted her eyes at the bull.  "A lot.  That's what we need to stay out of trouble with, with—"

     "The tax man," Kenny said helpfully.  "Grandpa's always cussin' him."

     "We need a lot of money," Minnie murmured.  "Too bad you're not old enough to ride."

     "I'd stay on him," Kenny bragged.  "I'd stay on'im like a gnat on his horn.  Like spit in his eye.  Like—"

     "Hey, kids," a man's voice interrupted.  "What's happening?"

     Minnie glanced up into a pair of twinkling black eyes.  Tall man.  Friendly, and kind.  Too nice for a bull like Bloodthirsty.  She took a breath. "What's your name?"

"Calhoun."

"Are you going to ride Bloodthirsty Black?"

     Calhoun nodded, amused by her question.  "Yes, I am.  Shouldn't you kids be with your parents?"

     "Mom works with the rodeo," Minnie said bravely, thinking that the cowboy was awfully tall, the tallest one she'd seen in a long time.  Maybe the biggest, too.  "I've seen more rodeos than you'll ever see, cowboy."

     He laughed.  "Is that so, young lady?  Well, then, I'll be on my way."  Tipping his hat, he left the pair.

     "Hey, I hope you win," Minnie called after the cowboy.

     "If he doesn't, I'm gonna ride that bull," Kenny muttered.

     "No, you're not," Minnie said.  "Mom will never let you."

     "And Mom said you weren't to size up any more, uh, marks," Kenny reminded her.  "You looked like you'd seen a movie star when you talked to that cowboy.  You got all goo-goo-goo."

     "That's what I'm doing wrong," Minnie whispered.  "I'm looking for marks, when I should have been looking for goo-goo-gooey."

     "Huh?"  Kenny stared at his sister.

     "We don't need a cowboy to work for us, we need one for Mom."

     They watched as the cowboy lifted a child, a little girl her own age, Minnie estimated, onto a pony. 

     "You mean, like a dad?" Kenny asked.  "Grandpa Barley said he'd kick the bejesu—"

     "Sh," Minnie said, "you're not to quote grandpa when he goes south of good manners, Mom says.  If that cowboy can stay in the saddle, we're going to find a way to drag him over to Mom.  You can cry and I'll pretend to be lost."

     "And you'll get in trouble," Kenny said.  "Mom knows when you're, you know, looking out for her."

     "Yes," Minnie said, "but Kenny, life is just simpler with a man who can jump into a barrel.  And that cowboy looks like he can handle barrels just fine."

     "Maybe we should get Mom to watch him," he said.  "Maybe she'd change her mind, although she'd probably say he was too big to—"  His gaze wandered as he watched Calhoun walk to the other side of the arena.

     "To fit inside a barrel," Minnie finished for him.

     "Yeah."

     "Kids," Olivia said, walking to their side as they hung at the rail, looking out into the arena, "I'm about to start the act.  You guys are going to be okay for another hour, right?"

     "Yes," Minnie said.  "Look at that man, Momma.  That's the cowboy who's gonna ride Bloodthirsty Black."

     Olivia glanced in the direction Minnie was pointing.

     "He's very tall," Kenny said.  "I don't think he'll be able to stay in the saddle."

     "But he looks like Antonio Banderas," Minnie observed.  "In that movie we weren't supposed to be watching when you fell asleep, Momma?  Antonio could do anything."

     "Once Upon A Time In Mexico.  Let's all stick to G-rated from now on," Olivia murmured, her heart beginning to beat faster as she watched the cowboy walk.  He did have a saunter to him, a loose swagger of confidence that caught every woman's attention in the arena.

     Then he turned around to wave to her children, and Olivia's heart sank deep inside her chest.

     He's gorgeous.