Trouble in Texas by Katie Lane

skittish myself,” Beau said. It was easy
     to detect the teasing note in his brother’s voice. “Now Brant, on the other hand,
     has never been scared of anything. He could slay a dragon if he took the notion, which
     means a little ol’ mouse wouldn’t stand a chance.”
    Brant ignored his brother’s foolishness and tried to climb the last step, but Elizabeth
     had a stranglehold on his shirt. He wasn’t exactly happy with the woman, but he couldn’t
     ignore her fear, either. He slipped his hand in hers and gave it a comforting squeeze.
     “Mice are more terrified of you than you are of them.”
    “Unless it’s Willard,” Beau said.
    “Shut up, Beau.” Brant pulled Elizabeth up the last step. He shined the flashlight
     at the wall and, spotting a switch, reached out and flipped it on. One single bare
     bulb came on, but its light was enough to reveal the mountains of clutter that were
     piled almost to the rafters.
    “Holy shit,” Beau said, before muttering an apology. “Sorry, ma’am, but this is one
     big pile of crap.”
    It was. Except Brant didn’t view it as crap. He viewed it as a gold mine of precious
     history. There were old televisions and radios. Leather trunks and suitcases. A stockpile
     of paintings and a grandfather clock that made his hands sweat. Or maybe that was
     the heat emanating from Elizabeth’s.
    “Does the saying, ‘finding a needle in a haystack’mean anything to you?” Beau asked with a smirk in his voice. A cackle came up the
     stairwell, and Brant released Elizabeth’s hand and called down to the old woman who
     sat at the bottom.
    “Can you remember what you stored it in?”
    “I think it was a trunk,” Minnie called back up.
    Brant looked back at the clutter. There had to be at least a hundred big trunks stacked
     amid the furniture and cardboard boxes, but he had never been one to be intimidated
     by work. He didn’t waste any time pulling out the first trunk and opening it up.
    “Don’t tell me you’re going to look through every one,” Beau said.
    “Now why would I do that when I have a helpful little brother?” He searched through
     the trunk of old clothing.
    “Oh no.” Beau stepped back. “I’m not spending my time in some musty, old, rat-infested
     attic looking for a book unless it’s filled with some of Miss Hattie’s x-rated stories.”
    “Beau’s right,” Elizabeth said as she walked over and slammed the lid of the trunk
     down, almost catching Brant’s fingers in the process. “Once I sell the house, there
     will be plenty of time to pull all the things out of the attic and look through them.
     If I should find anything about your grandfather, I’ll be more than happy to contact
     you.”
    Brant ignored her and grabbed another trunk. “Well, that’s real nice of you, Ms. Murphy,
     but since I don’t trust you as far as I can throw that grandfather clock over there,
     I think I’ll just look myself.”
    Another cackle drifted up the stairs, followed by Minnie’s raspy voice. “All of that
     stuff belongs to us hens, and if Branston wants to go through them, that’s finewith us. Isn’t that right, Sunshine?” Sunshine chirped her agreement, which made Elizabeth’s
     brow pucker all the more.
    “And if Beau doesn’t want to hang out up there,” Minnie continued to yell up, “I’ve
     got a few things he could help me with down here.”
    Beau didn’t waste any time accepting the offer. “Good luck, big bro,” he said as he
     clattered down the stairs.
    When he was gone, Brant took off his cowboy hat and hung it on an old hat rack before
     rolling up his shirt-sleeves. “You don’t have to stay, Ms. Murphy. I’m quite capable
     of handling the job alone.”
    “I don’t doubt that for a second, Mr. Cates. But I also don’t trust you as far as
     I can throw you.”
    He laughed as he took a seat on the trunk he’d just opened. “So you’re planning on
     selling the house?”
    “There isn’t any other choice.”