My Unexpected Hero (Cowboys of Sunnydale)

Chapter 1-1

Chapter 1

Saturday, April 2nd LindsayThe rain beat down on the windshield, running in streams over the hood of my car. The wipers swished side to side, screeching occasionally, as the rubber pulled away from the wiper. It grated on my last nerve. I ground my teeth with each whine. I needed to get that fixed, but at least that was an easy solution. Not like my other problems.

I punched the hazard button. The clicking of the hazards, whining of the wipers, and rat-a-tap-tap of the rain combined to make a symphony that pounded in time to the headache brewing at my temples. I didn't need this today. I laid my head down on the steering wheel. I was going to be late. My car tilted heavily to the side; I didn't need to get out to see the blown tire. After the loud bang and the fishtailing over the wet road, I was thankful I didn't end up in a ditch. Drumming my fingers on the steering wheel, I reached for my phone. The screen flashed and then powered off. My day couldn't get any worse. What was I going to do?

A hum of an engine sounded over the pounding of the rain. Only a few cars drove on this road as it was the back way into Sunnydale, Texas. The only people that took it were the ranchers and ranch hands coming from the Kisment ranch, my ranch, or the Giffery ranch which Delilah and Kade now owned.

They were friends of mine that finally got back together. She had been a nurse in San Antonio, and he was a bull rider. Kade got hurt badly and needed an at-home caretaker. The only one his older brother, Kaleb, could find was Delilah as she was taking a break from her job. They hated each other after what had happened when they were younger, but Delilah was a tough nurse. Kade healed and realized that he loved her. Now, they’re engaged and turning the Giffery ranch into a therapeutic riding stable for disabled children.

Glancing in my rearview mirror, a fancy Porsche sped towards me. My forehead wrinkled. Now who in the world could that be? If it was a ranch truck or Delilah’s little Jetta, someone would stop and help me, but this being a stranger I hit the lock button on my door. The car pulled up next to me and honked. The driver rolled down the window and I cranked mine down. His face was in the shadow, and I didn’t recognize him, right away.

“Would you like a ride into town?” He asked.

His voice froze me as I tried to keep the rain from running into my car. I swallowed a couple of times and then squinted at the man. I could make out his aristocratic nose and high cheekbones. His light brown hair was cut short in a fashionable style, and I swear I could see his hazel eyes twinkle through the darkness in the car.

“Holy cow, it’s Kurt Kisment.” The sarcasm rolled off my tongue before I could stop it. “What are you doing here? There aren’t any bad guys for you to get out of trouble.”

He sighed. “I was going to rescue a damsel in distress. But if you don’t want help, I’ll be on my way.” He shifted the car into drive and started to roll away.

“No, wait!” I grabbed my purse, stuffed the dead cell phone into it, and jumped out of my car.

I opened the door to the Porsche. The leather interior was spotless and smelled of a brand-new car. Kurt rummaged in the back seat and came up with a towel that he spread on the passenger seat for me.

“I don’t want the leather seats ruined.” His eyes cut to me and ran from my waterlogged hair to my soaked blouse to my cowboy boots filling up with rain. His Adam’s apple moved as he swallowed, and his voice came out rough. “Hurry up. You’re flooding the car.”

He tore his gaze away and stared out the windshield. I slid into the seat and slammed the door shut on the rain. He turned the dials. Heat blasted out towards me. Tucking my skirt around my thighs, I hugged my purse to my chest. Silence filled the car as he made the turn onto Highway 4 towards Sunnydale.

“So... what brings you to town? I don’t think you’ve been back in like forever. At least, I hadn’t seen you or heard of you where I work, and usually all the gossip is shared at Susie’s Café.” I took a breath and tried to think of what else to say.

Here I was stuck in a car with Kurt Kisment, the boy who made my life miserable all through middle school and high school. Well, now he was a man, but still he stopped to help me. He could have driven on by and not picked me up.

He didn’t look at me. “I came for the funeral.”

“Uncle Clarence’s?” My mouth fell open. “I didn’t see you there. I mean, Mom and I were kinda in a daze with everything, and it still doesn’t seem real. I always expect him to walk out of his room, but he doesn’t...I’m sure if you were there, Mom would have wanted to speak with you.”

His eyes flashed. “Why?”

“Well, she always had a soft spot for you because you and Larry were so close.” I rolled my eyes. “I don’t really know why, as you were so annoying,” I muttered under my breath, but he heard since it was a small car. The corner of his lips pulled up.

“I watched the burial and paid my respects to him after everyone left.”

“Why would you do that? I don’t particularly like you, but everyone else does.” Crossing my arms, I glared at him.

“Ah, I missed your candor.”

I frowned at him but didn’t know what else to say. That wasn’t any sort of answer to my question. We drove in silence again for a few more minutes until the sign for Sunnydale came into view.

“Where would you like to be dropped off?” The car slowed down as we hit city limits.

“Mr. Philips’ law office, please.” I tried to smile. Thinking of what had to be done, didn’t make it easy to force happiness.

Kurt stilled next to me and shifted his gaze from the road to me. His hazel eyes searched my face for a moment. I wiggled in my seat and clutched my purse closer to me. Then, he turned his gaze back to the road.

Sunnydale was a blip on the highway heading out north out of San Antonio. The population was 2001 with only one red stop light at the intersection of Highway 4 and Main Street. It was the kind of town where a Main Street flourished, and everyone knew each other. It had been my hometown and the center of my life for as long as I could remember.

Kurt turned onto Main Street and pulled into the only open parking spot.

"Thanks. I appreciate the ride." I reached for the door handle.

"Just being neighborly,” he said with a thickened Texas accent.

The corner of my lips pulled up at his exaggerated accent. “Thanks, again.”

With a sigh, I grabbed my threadbare purse and opened the door. The rain poured down heavier now that I had to cross the road to reach my destination. Holding the purse over my head, I sprinted to the glass door of Philips Law Office. My cowboy boots splashed through the puddles. Water slid down my calves and soaked my socks inside of my boots. I pulled open the glass door and burst into the small office with a flurry of rain and wind.

Mr. Philips glanced up from behind his old oak desk, peering at me through his wire-rimmed glasses. His silver hair was neatly combed, and his suit jacket hung behind his chair. The papers on the desk fluttered as I leaned into the door to close it. Water pooled at my feet and my purse squished when I set it on the floor. He pushed his chair back from the desk.

"Ah, Lindsay. It's nice to see you." His eyes fell to the puddle forming around my feet. "I'll get you a towel. Don't move."

He retreated to the back of his office where cupboard doors opened and closed until he reappeared in the front. He handed me a large fluffy towel and draped another over a leather chair in front of his desk.

"Thank you. It is raining cats and dogs out there." I twisted my long hair in the towel to pull out the water before mopping up the wetness at my feet.

He chuckled and nodded to his large white cat sleeping in the window ledge. "Except they have better sense to stay inside." His thin bony hands took my purse and the towel to hang them on the coat stand by the door. "Come on, dear. Why don't we sit down?”

I glanced at the leather chair he held out for me. Nerves and anticipation ran through my body. I shivered as I sat down.

"Are you cold?" He shuffled over to the radiator and turned a dial.

It started to life with a groan and a rattle of pipes. A faint burnt smell drifted from it as the fan kicked on.

"Thanks. Just wet." I rubbed my arms and shifted in my seat. I pulled at the hem of my denim skirt, but it kept riding up. I ended up crossing my legs and holding down the hem with one hand. “Could I make a quick call to Mike’s Auto? My car has a flat tire, and I got a ride into town.”

“Sure thing.” He slid his telephone across the desk.

I punched the numbers to the Auto shop and talked to Mike about my problem. He assured me he’d get my car and bring it into town. Sighing, I replaced the receiver back on the cradle. One problem down. A million more to go.

"Let me say I'm very sorry about your uncle's death. He was a dear friend of mine." He patted my hand on his way to his side of the desk.

I swallowed a lump in my throat and blinked back the tears that threatened to fall. My uncle died a week ago and the pain was still fresh. I wouldn't let it come out. Once I started crying, I wouldn’t be able to stop.

"We miss him a lot." I choke out and ran my finger under my eyelashes to catch any runaway tears.

"How are you and Candy getting along?" He steepled his fingers and his eyes met mine and held.

"We are doing okay. Mom has been throwing herself into her painting. I can't get her to stop and eat." A watery smile tugged at the corners of my lips.

Mr. Philips nodded.

"I'm staying busy with work, helping Mom, and running the ranch." I gathered my wet mass of curls and tucked them behind my shoulder. "As good as can be expected."

I shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant. It was overwhelming: me working two jobs waitressing and helping my mother who was paralyzed in a wheelchair. She could do many things by herself, but I didn't like her to be alone all the time. And then there was the ranch. It was falling down faster than I could fix it. I sighed. It had been in my family for generations. I was going to make it work. And of course, I missed my uncle so much. A tear slipped down my cheek and landed on my hand holding the edge of my skirt.

Mr. Philips cleared his voice, bringing me back to the present. "I asked you to come in today to discuss your uncle's will."

I nodded. That was expected. Folding my hands in my lap, I leaned forward. The leather squeaked with each move. The white cat looked up from its perch to narrow its eyes at me. It flicked its tail before curling back up.

Mr. Philips reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a document and an envelope. "This is the will of Clarence Raymond Wilson."

He began reading the document. He listed Uncle's items and what he wanted done with them. He listed Aunt Ida's personal belongings since she died five years ago and most of her things were still at the ranch house. I bit the end of my fingernail as I listened to Mr. Philips soothing voice. He continued to read through three more pages.

"These are the final wishes of one Clarence Raymond Wilson."

He laid the papers down. His voice broke at the end when he set his hand on top of the documents. For a few seconds, he held perfectly still. The ticking of the clock and the beating of my heart were the only sounds. My mind whirled with all the details in the will to settle on the one thing that was missing. The most important thing to Uncle and Aunt Ida and now to Mom and me.

"What about the ranch?" I asked, my voice a whisper.

I leaned forward, placing my hands on the edge of the desk. Why did he leave it out of the will? What did that mean? What was going to happen to Mom and me? We had been living on the ranch with Uncle Clarence and Aunt Ida since I was a little girl. I swallowed the ball of emotions that threatened to overtake me.

Mr. Philips dabbed at his eyes with a handkerchief before sliding the thick envelope across the desk to me. "He has other wishes for the ranch,” he said softly.

I took it and turned it over in my hands. In black pen, my name jumped out from the cream-colored envelope. Sliding a fake red nail under the flap, I opened it and pulled out a thick piece of paper with my uncle's handwriting on it. My eyes flowed over the words taking them in with the greed of a starving man, hoping to connect once more with the man who was everything to Mom and me.

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