Trouble in Cowboy Boots by Desiree Holt Page B

But—”
    “No buts. We’ll talk about the problems when I get there. I’ll see you after supper.”
    Disconnecting the call and mentally saying what the hell, she grabbed a water glass and headed for the bar in Wyatt’s den. It wasn’t locked. The hands knew to respect the invisible off-limits sign. Deciding that bourbon would be her medicine of choice, she poured a generous amount into the glass, carried it back into the kitchen and added a handful of ice cubes. Then, sipping slowly at the drink, she finished putting dinner together.
    “Auntie Em, are you okay?” Hardy’s young eyes held concern as she put the last bowl of vegetables out. “You seem kind of…funny.”
    “I’m fine, Hardy. Just fine. Eat before your food gets cold.”
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    Evan Trippy, an older hand, stared at the glass she picked up from the counter.
    “That’s a little dark for iced tea, Auntie Em. You haven’t gotten into the boss’s bourbon, have you?”
    “Of course not.” She hoped the expression on her face was indignant enough. It was ruined, however, when she tripped over her feet walking back to the counter. “I’m fine,” she insisted as four of the hands leaped up to help her. “Sit down and eat.”
    She stood at the sink, taking small sips of her drink, while the men finished dinner in an unusual silence. Emily couldn’t look at them and no one apparently could figure out what to say to her. By the time the glass was empty her head was swimming and she wished for nothing more than a gun to blow a hole through both Wyatt and Diana the Slut. She rinsed the glass and refilled it, draining it in the hope the water would dilute the alcohol but all it did was make her dizzier.
    When the scraping of chairs on the floor signaled the men were finished eating she turned to clear the table, but they were already handling it.
    “You should go sit down, Auntie Em,” Hardy said, concern etched on his face.
    “You don’t look like you feel too good.”
    “I’m fine, Hardy. And I can clean up the kitchen.”
    But when she took the plate from Hardy’s hands it slipped from her grasp and shattered on the floor. Her immediate urge was to cry but she was determined not to shed tears in front of the hands.
    “Come on, Auntie Em.” Evan’s voice was gentle as was his touch on her elbow. “Sit down at the table and I’ll get you some coffee.”
    Since she didn’t seem any too steady on her feet she allowed herself to be led to a chair. One of the other hands brought her a mug filled with hot liquid and she wrapped her fingers around it.
    “Thank you,” she told him. “Evan? Do you think one of you could run me into town after dinner? My friend Lola is staying in that little apartment behind Blue Belle’s.”
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    She saw the men doing the cleanup exchange looks. Finally Evan nodded.
    “Sure thing. You going to visit your friends?”
    “Yes. I need a night out.” She concentrated on not spilling the hot coffee as she took small swallows.
    But when she came out of her bedroom lugging her suitcases both Evan and Hardy raised their eyebrows.
    “You going somewhere, Auntie Em? I mean besides to visit Lola?”
    “Yes.” She set the suitcases on the floor. “Could you help me with these?”
    Hardy looked at Evan then back to her. “Does the boss know about this?”
    “The boss is otherwise occupied,” she spat. “And it’s none of his business.”
    Evan took her hands in his. “Em, if something’s wrong just tell us. We’ll fix it.”
    Emily ground her teeth together, trying to keep the room from swimming before her eyes. “I. Just. Want. To. Go. To. Town.”
    The cowboy shrugged. “All right, then. Hardy, put these suitcases in one of the trucks. I’ll help Auntie Em outside.”
    “I don’t need help,” she protested, then proceeded to trip over her feet again.
    The ride into town was thick with silence. Neither of the men apparently knew what to say and didn’t want to