How to Rope a McCoy (Hell Yeah!) Read online

  Heath felt guilty as hell. Cato didn’t deserve anything but to be treated like a queen. Crap like what he was about to pull was exactly why he knew he never should have gotten involved with her in the first place. But he was a weak man where she was concerned. His libido had overruled his better judgment. “That’s sort of what I wanted to talk to you about.” He turned more toward her, just in case anyone was watching them too closely. “Like I said, I want to continue our plans for an affair, but I don’t think we ought to be so open about it in front of my friends and family.” Damn, he saw the hurt in her eyes. She was gonna tell him to go fuck himself and he richly deserved it. But he pressed on, it had to be said. “After yesterday, they’re already talking. My brothers and sisters have this innate desire to see me happy and settled down and as far as they’re concerned, you’re the perfect candidate.”

  Cato thought so too, or at least she had. If she hadn’t known who Heath was, seen his gentleness and concern for family and friends, known how he’d come to her aid, she would have been crushed. But this wasn’t Heath talking, this attitude was due to the pain and disappointment he’d suffered at the hands of the woman who had abandoned him on their wedding day. “So, you want to sneak around?”

  He looked relieved. “Well, I’d rather call it being discrete.”

  Cato didn’t give him an answer immediately. Instead, she looked blindly to one side, weighing her options. Embarrassment warred with a natural optimism. Perhaps it was the gambling genes she inherited from her father or maybe it was just a deep-seated curiosity to see what fate might have in store. Whichever, she didn’t pause to fully analyze her motivation. Instead, she faced him, giving him a bright, fake smile. “Agreed, I like the idea. It’s like getting to have my cake and eat it too.”

  “What do you mean?” Heath asked suspiciously.

  “Nothing, we can have our fun on the side and still…you know…be free to—”

  “Now, wait a minute, no one said anything about being on the side. While we’re…”

  Philip walked near and they both clammed up like they’d been discussing a bank heist.

  “Am I interrupting something?”

  “Yes,” Heath said. “No,” Cato said, at the same time.

  Philip looked confused, but pressed on. “I was wondering if I could borrow Cato for a while, I’d like to talk to her.”

  “No,” Heath said. “Yes,” Cato said, at the same time.

  Philip looked more confused. Cato chimed in. “Of course. What can I do for you, Philip?”

  “I’d like to discuss your work,” Philip became serious, “especially as it pertains to the San Saba legend. I’m sure you’ve heard of my unfortunate situation.”

  Cato immediately softened, became somber and moved closer to Philip. “Not in great detail, but I do offer my heartfelt belief that you’re innocent and my hope that you are quickly cleared.”

  “Thank you,” Philip’s face brightened, “let me freshen your coffee and we’ll compare notes. Even if San Saba had nothing to do with the case, the search for the lost mine is of great interest to me.”

  “Sounds perfect. I need a change of scenery. Excuse me, Heath.” Without a backward glance to see if he responded, Cato walked off with Philip.

  He led her to a bench and she stole a sideways look at Heath, who hadn’t moved but was staring at her with an enigmatic expression on his face. Cato was disheartened, he was sending out these mixed signals and she didn’t really know what to do. She had lived for years with her mother being embarrassed to acknowledge her and now Heath was almost doing the same thing. It hurt.

  After he’d gotten them something to drink, Philip joined her. “So, tell me a little bit about what you do and I’ll do the same.”

  Cato told him about her work in Louisiana. “I worked on everything from state tourism to special projects for the education system. The bayou state has such a rich history. New Orleans was a thriving city long before America became a country. So many cultures converge in Louisiana—the French, Spanish, Creoles—even the Acadians who were the victims of a mass dispersion.”

  “You don’t have to convince me,” Philip interjected. “My family is from Louisiana. Our branch of the McCoys moved there after our grandfather sold this property, in fact.”

  “That’s right, you are.” She didn’t tell him how she knew, that was something she needed to discuss with Heath first. Knowing him, he probably would want to keep that secret too. Stubborn man. “Then you can understand my enthusiasm for the area. I was lucky, my job gave me the opportunity to do research on everything from plantations to pirates to pralines.”

  Philip laughed with her. “Yes, Louisiana is unique.” He sobered. “Our mother died in Katrina.”

  Cato didn’t know. “I’m so sorry.” She touched his hand, recalling the beautiful woman in the photograph she’d just seen. “There was so much loss of life. I evacuated to East Texas, my mother’s house was damaged, but we didn’t lose anyone.”

  “We miss her.” He raised his cup in salute. “But life goes on. So, you moved to Texas.”

  Cato shrugged. “I left behind a personal storm too.” She didn’t elaborate. “My friendship with Avery made me consider coming here and I’m glad I did.”

  “We are too.”

  His hopeful and fleeting look toward his brother made Cato reply, “It’s not what you think, you know. Your brother and I are not dating. We have no intention of beginning a relationship.”

  Cato just had to ignore Philip’s look of amused disbelief. She couldn’t be held responsible for any impressions the family had gathered up to now. Heath was as guilty as she was. But from this point on, she would play his game, to a degree. When the time came, Cato would have to protect her heart. They would have stealth sex. Cato couldn’t help but be a tad amused by it all, even if she was dispirited.

  “Whatever you say,” he replied with a grin.

  Feeling the need to get the conversation back on track, Cato asked something she’d been curious about. “Ryder told me you were an archaeologist. She compared you to Indiana Jones. Tell me some of the places you’ve been and things you’ve done.” Philip settled back in his chair, clearly in his element. Cato had to admire him. He was extremely good-looking, leaner than Heath, who was built like a brick house, but still strong with clear blue eyes and a handsome face.

  “Early on, after I’d graduated, I spent a few years as an intern for Dr. Ronald Halifax. He is a premier Egyptologist. I worked with him exploring the shaft of the Queen’s Chamber in the Great Pyramid at Giza.”

  Cato was impressed. “So much has been written about the Great Pyramid, but so little is actually known.”

  “Exactly,” Philip agreed. “We know it was never a tomb, and it was never finished. What we don’t know is what it was created for in the first place.”

  “I’ve heard speculation on everything from biblical prophecy, to a giant sundial, to a way for people on earth to communicate with aliens.”

  Philip smirked. “My research wasn’t quite so spectacular. We just set out to determine why the chamber was unfinished and what its original purpose might be.”

  “Yet the mystery remains.”

  “Yes. I also found a mummified lion in the tomb of a woman who helped raise King Tut and I was in on the unearthing of the ancient university at Alexandria which had an enrollment of about five thousand students and the greatest library of all time. The library was lost during the war with Rome and with it was lost the history of the world up until that time. It was a great tragedy.”

  “Yet some say there is a repository of books that were saved stored in the Sphinx and the deepest bowels of the Vatican.” Clearly, Cato was in her element.

  “Oh, I like the way you think.” Philip’s eyes twinkled.

  “What have you worked on since then?”

  “I got a job teaching at the University of Texas and am still involved with local archaeological projects. I’ve done work down at Bonfire Shelter, a site
on the Rio Grande where Native Americans stampeded huge herds of buffalo off cliffs to harvest their hides and meat. The mountains of bones have caught fire by spontaneous combustion at least twice in the years past.” Seeing Cato’s eyes widen with enjoyment, Philip told more. “I also worked on the exploration of Guy Town, Austin’s infamous red light district, especially the Christmas Eve murders of 1885 committed by an unknown serial killer.”

  “Sounds like the area was similar to New Orleans’ Storyville.”

  “There are many similarities. Austin allowed the bordello district to flourish, just like New Orleans did, until the anti-prostitution sentiments of the early twentieth century took hold.”

  “So, no one ever solved the murders?”

  “No,” Heath rubbed the condensation off of his glass, “they didn’t. I just hope someone solves the one I’m accused of.”

  Cato’s heart went out to Philip. “If there is any way I can help you, all you have to do is ask.”

  He shook his head. “If I can think of anything, I’ll let you know. Until then, just talking to me about all of this helps.”

  “Sure, I’ll tell you anything I can about San Saba, but I’m sure you know more than I do.”

  Philip just started talking and Cato let him. She knew it helped sometimes to get things in perspective.

  “When we moved to Highlands and I started teaching at UT, everything was in an uproar. Dad’s health was precarious and we were all essentially starting over. Heath bought the resort about that same time and we brought in crews to search for more oil. Mainly, they found gas. Either way it was profitable. We tore down the original ranch house and built this one to remind us of our mother.”

  Cato could tell Philip was still working through his grief over losing his home and his mother. In some ways, she could relate.

  “We all reacted to the upheaval in our lives in different ways. I immersed myself in work, walking the land, exploring Enchanted Rock and the caves underneath it. I talked to some old timers and they told me there was one tunnel that goes completely through it from one side to the other. And some of those caverns are connected by underground rivers and springs. I’ve studied maps and geology reports and I’m convinced those caves run all through the llano uplift. I think they’re connected to caves on our property. In fact, I went down in one where I found this…” He pulled something out of his pocket.

  Cato was shocked to see that it was a huge silver nugget. It reminded Cato of the day she’d been harassed by Heath’s bull, when she’d seen something similar embedded in the trail. “Wow, you’re lucky.”

  “Not really. Not too many days after I found this, I was arrested for murder.”

  “Why did they think you were responsible?”

  “Well, he was killed on our property, in the area I’d been exploring and I’d left some equipment there. Dalton was trespassing. Until recently, we didn’t really know why. Now, thanks to my cousin Noah, we’ve discovered that Dalton was a treasure hunter too. Not an archaeologist like me or a historian like you, but an amateur with a metal detector and a shovel. We knew one another casually, but we never discussed lost mines or lost treasure not even once. I would run into him down at the local watering hole frequently. It’s a place called Pastor Don’s Dam Pub, run by an ex-Methodist preacher with the sharpest wit of anyone I know. Heath will have to take you there.”

  “Heath and I aren’t dating.” Cato felt like she had to reiterate that point.

  Philip laughed. “Well, if you say so.” He thought a minute, then started speaking again. “There was one funny thing,” Philip mused. “People would get us mixed up. He wore a hat like mine.” Philip doffed his chocolate brown Stetson. “Dalton was dating a woman who had…” he laughed wryly, “who had chased me for a while, quite openly. I never was involved with her, it was just harmless flirting.”

  Cato could imagine all of the McCoy brothers were pursued. The fact that she fell into the same category gave her pause. “Maybe she dated him because he resembled you.” Cato blurted.

  Philip never got the chance to answer because the chair Cato was resting her elbow on moved suddenly and she almost fell. “Whoops,” she squealed and Heath caught her.

  Heath couldn’t stand it. He didn’t like the way he felt at all seeing Cato with anyone else, not even his brother whom he trusted with his life. And his response surprised him and made Heath feel agitated and uneasy. “Sorry.” He sat down, tapping his boot on the floor. “Go ahead, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  Philip gave him a tired, knowing look. “Glad you could join us.”

  “She left me.” Heath made the announcement like it explained everything.

  “Make up your mind,” she told Heath. Secretly, his actions made her happy, but she wasn’t about to let him know that.

  “What are y’all talking about?” Slapping his hat on his knee, Heath waited for someone to answer.

  “I was about to ask Cato what she knew about the San Saba mine, before you barged in.” Philip smirked.

  “Good, tell us, Cato. I’m all ears. I’ve asked you this before, but why do you think the lost mine is on Highland property?”

  Cato glared at Heath. “Your ears are pretty big,” she muttered, her mind going naturally to Heath’s other large body parts. When both men looked at her with more than a little interest, she relented. “All right, I’ll tell you.” She’d shared some with Redford, but regretted it. Hopefully she wouldn’t be making a mistake this time. “I’ve been doing some heavy-duty research on the topic,” she directed the next words at Heath, “for historical purposes.”

  “If you say so.” Heath had the audacity to harrumph.

  Cato didn’t miss his sarcastic attitude. It seemed like they were right back where they started, as if the amazing time they had spent in each other’s arms never happened. “Yes, historical purposes.” She emphasized her point.

  “Go ahead, Cato. I’m listening.” Philip encouraged.

  She looked at him apologetically. “You’re the expert and I’m probably telling you things you already know, so if I am excuse me.” He nodded for her to continue. “There are documents that you can only access in collections. One at The University of Texas is written in Spanish, it’s called the Miranda Report and indicates that the mine is near Honey Creek.” Heath started to interrupt her, but Philip stopped him, so she went on. “Another book, The Rise and Fall of the Mission San Saba, which is part of a private collection housed at Baylor University in Waco, states that Jim Bowie and his brother Rezin fought a battle with a band of Indians on their way to the fabled mine. The book mentions a site near Jackson Creek. But that battle is a big hint. If you research the battle instead of the mine, you find other people who mention additional landmarks and bodies of water that Bowie and company crossed or past before and after the battle.” Cato got a piece of paper out of her purse and started sketching. “I just mentioned Jackson Creek and if you add to that Sandy Creek, Silver Creek, Turkey Creek and Calf Creek, you begin to see the layout of the territory they were investigating.” When she rose to see their reaction, she could see the understanding in their eyes. “Those creeks all cross your property, the Highlands, right?”

  Philip took the paper from her. “Damned if they don’t.”

  “Now, some people say the Bowie brothers didn’t find a mine at all, instead they stole three treasure laden donkeys from the Mexican government.” Cato took another sip of her cold coffee. “You can find many theories but the lost mine is the most prevalent. The last clues I unearthed was the diary of a little old lady who lived over near Hext, Tx. Her grandson found it and it was brought to my attention when I was searching for information about descendants of a Matt Doyle who fought with the Bowies.” The longer she talked, the closer the two men leaned in. They were hanging on her every word. “Mrs. Harlo wrote that there were three trees with arrows embedded in them and they pointed the way to the mine.”

  “You know, I think I’m going to change the direction of the
ride.” Heath gave Philip a pointed look. “Announce to everyone that we’re heading down south on the Cedar Peak trail toward Sandy Creek and tell the cook to meet us at Granite Fork.”

  “What are you thinking?” Philip asked.

  “I’m not sure, but I think I know where one of those trees is located.” Heath stared off into the distance, but his head was still turned enough so Cato could see. “If all of this is true, then we need to find out who else knew about this mine and that man will be Dalton Smith’s killer.”

  * * *

  What she told Heath and Philip seemed to galvanize them. They took off in different directions and she felt lost. Pepper and Ryder were nowhere to be seen and everyone else seemed ready to follow Philip’s directions and head to the barn to find a mount and hit the trail. Cato hadn’t ridden much, but she could manage to stay on a horse. The only problem was, she didn’t know if she wanted to go. Answering Ryder and Pepper’s inquisitive yet innocent questions would be awkward and who knows whether Heath would even ride with her or not. Maybe it was time to leave.

  As she started up the hill, Heath returned with Jaxson and Tennessee. Cato paused, thinking he might come to her. Instead, Tennessee asked, “Where’s Jimmy? He’s not going to miss the trail ride, is he?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t talked to him this morning. He went home last night…and I was a little preoccupied.”

  “Preoccupied with what?” Tennessee smiled.

  “Nothing important.”

  One of the hazards of lip reading, like eavesdropping, was that you tended to be privy to conversations one wasn’t supposed to hear. Apparently, this was one of those cases. A little preoccupied? Nothing important? Cato sighed. Yep, it was time to head home. Cato just felt in the way. As his friends gathered around Heath, she just eased off.

  She wasn’t aware of it, but Heath watched her go. He stepped away from his brothers and flung a little leftover coffee into the yard. Following Cato’s progress, he watched her climb the steps to the porch and go inside. His mind might be muddled by everything that was going on, but it didn’t take very long for the notion to enter his mind that Cato might have it in her head to skip out on the party early. “Hell.”