Texas Heat

To Barbara A., Stephanie, Terry and Jolie.
Thanks for making this one so much fun.

T
he lawyer's office smelled of money. Old money. Leather armchairs, dark polished woods, plush hunter green carpet. A bronze statue of a horse and rider, silhouetted by the late-afternoon sun, adorned a tall marble stand and stared solemnly out the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking downtown Midland. Silence dominated the room, except for the soft ticktock of the grandfather clock and a woman's muffled whimpering.

Four chairs faced the lawyer's desk. Jake Stone sat in the first, his sister, Jessica, beside him and on the end Myrna Stone, their stepmother. The fourth chair sat conspicuously empty.

Norman Woodard, the lawyer, ran a manicured hand over the silver streak of hair above his left ear, then glanced at the clock. “Mr. Stone, it's already twenty minutes past the hour. We really can't—”

“We wait.”

“But—”

Jake lifted his gaze sharply to the man. “I said, we wait.”

Woodard's lips tightened, but he said nothing.

Jessica laid a hand over Jake's and he felt the tension slowly ease from his shoulders. His baby sister was no baby anymore, he realized with a note of regret. He could still clearly remember twenty-six years ago, the day his parents had brought her home from the hospital. He'd been only eight at the time, and all he'd seen sticking out of that pink blanket were two huge blue eyes and a crop of shining black hair.

The memory of that day and the happiness in his parents' eyes brought reality crashing back down. They were both gone. His mother twelve years ago, now J.T. Jake closed his fingers tightly around his sister's. At least he still had Jessie. Jessie and... He stared at the empty chair.

“Mr. Stone,” the lawyer tried again, “your brother was given sufficient notice of the day and time of this meeting. I suggest we—”

Tipping back his Stetson, Jake straightened in his chair, knowing that his height had intimidated more than one man. “I just buried my father two days ago, then drove three hours for this meeting. I have two hundred head of cattle to feed, fence to ride and a hay trailer with a flat tire. If I can wait—” he settled back in his chair “—then so can you.”

“Mr. Woodard.” Jessica leaned forward, and Jake noticed the weary tone in her voice. “These past few days have been difficult, and I'm afraid we're all a little tired. I'm sure my brother will be here any minute.”

“Maybe Mr. Woodard is right,” Myrna said, worrying the handkerchief in her hands. “After all, it is getting late.”

Jake turned to his stepmother. A former Miss Houston, she still looked pretty good at fifty-two. Her blue suit hadn't a wrinkle, nor was one bottle-red hair out of place. Not even a smudge of mascara, though she'd been sniffling and dabbing at her eyes for the past forty-five minutes.

“Maybe
Mr. Woodard
here,” Jake said, narrowing his eyes, “doesn't know that flying in from South America isn't exactly a trip to the corner store. And maybe if you hadn't insisted on a funeral that took less time than picking up hamburgers at a drive-through, my brother might have made his father's burial, too.”

Myrna's jaw went tight at the sarcasm, but she said nothing, just turned away and stared blankly out the window. For once, Jake thought, the woman knew when to quit.

The clock chimed the half hour.

They waited.

He'd show up. Jake knew he would. It didn't matter that Jared had been gone for three years. It didn't even matter that he hadn't been able to make it to the funeral. All that mattered was that when Jake had finally managed to get a hold of his brother in Venezuela, Jared had said he'd be here. And if it meant camping out in this stuffy lawyer's office until he showed up, then by God, that was what they'd do.

When the three-quarter hour chimed, Mr. Woodard stood. “If you'll excuse me,” he said curtly, tugging on the jacket of his precision-cut, tailor-made suit, “I'll go see about having something brought in. Some sandwiches, perhaps, and some drinks—”

“Make mine a rare roast beef” came a deep voice from the back of the room, “and a tall cold beer.”

All heads jerked around at the unexpected order. Jared Stone stood in the doorway, his hand on the knob. His denim jacket was worn, but clean, his thick black hair ruffled as if he'd been in a windstorm. A half smile deepened the creases beside his mouth and his eyes—Stone trademark blue—widened with pleasure as he stared at a brother and sister he hadn't seen in three years.

Jessica jumped up from her seat and flew at him, pouncing into his arms as she had when she was a child. Laughing, he lifted her, then spun her around. Jake watched, feeling a strange swelling in his chest as he walked toward his brother. He waited for Jared to put Jessica down before he stuck out his hand.

Jared stared at Jake's hand and his smile slowly faded. The brothers' eyes met, held for one long moment, then, not knowing who moved first and not caring, slapped their arms around each other in a fierce hug.

Jessica circled her arms around both of them and the three of them stood there, sharing the joy of their reunion and the grief that had made it happen.

“Welcome, Mr. Stone,” Mr. Woodard interrupted the homecoming. “We're so glad you were able to join us.”

“My flight was canceled twice,” Jared explained, pulling away from his brother and sister. He noticed his stepmother then and walked over to her. “I'm sorry, Myrna. It must be hard for you.”

Myrna's lip quivered as she hugged Jared. “He was fine when I went to town. I came home four hours later and found him in the garage. His heart...it just—” She choked back a sob and wiped at her eyes with her handkerchief.

“Well, now.” Mr. Woodard cleared his throat. “Since we're all here, perhaps we can get started.”

Nodding, Jake took his seat. Right now, all he wanted was to be alone with his brother and sister, and the sooner they got this over with, the better.

Jessica sat between him and Jared, and Myrna sidled back into her chair. Mr. Woodard, already seated, leaned forward, his hands folded in front of him. “As you may know, your father—” he looked at Jake, then Myrna “—and your husband, came to me six months ago to have a will drawn.”

“Why you?” Jake asked. “Cactus Flat is a lot closer to Stone Creek than Midland. Why would he drive all this way just to have a will made?”

“Your father was well-known in Cactus Flat,” the lawyer responded. “And because the nature of his requests were somewhat...delicate, he thought it best to seek legal counsel elsewhere.”

Delicate, my behind, Jake thought dryly. There hadn't been one thing about J.T. that anyone would have called delicate. “If you're trying to say that small towns talk, why don't you just spit it out?”

Woodard frowned at the expression. “There was a concern on your father's part for privacy, Mr. Stone.”

Myrna shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Jessica looked at Jake, then Jared. A heartbeat of silence filled the room like a lead weight.

Jake stared sharply at the lawyer. “Why don't we just get on with it.”

Nodding, the lawyer straightened his glasses as he lifted the document from its folder.

“‘I, Jeremiah Tobias Stone,'” he began, “‘of Cactus Flat County, Texas, declare that this is my Will and revoke all prior wills and codicils...'” He droned on, “‘...and I name Jake Stone, my eldest son, as Executor of this Will...'”

Eyes narrowed, Myrna turned to Jake, clearly unhappy at J.T.'s choice of an executor. At the mention of her name, she turned back to Woodard.

“‘...to my spouse, Myrna Stone, I leave my home and its furnishings, plus the surrounding three acres.'”

Myrna's mouth dropped open. Stone Creek was a total of one hundred thousand acres. “But—” She started to protest, but the lawyer moved on.

“‘...to my son Jake Stone I leave the sixty thousand acres that constitutes Stone Creek ranch, including any existing cattle and assets of that property...'”

Stone Creek Ranch.
Jake felt his heart slam against his ribs. He had thought for sure Myrna would get the ranch that he'd run for his father for the past twelve years. Jessica took hold of Jake's hand and squeezed. He knew she understood how important the ranch and Stone Creek were to him.

“But—” Myrna opened her mouth again.

“‘...to my son Jared Stone, I leave a parcel of fifteen thousand acres containing a closed-down oil well, plus any and all oil-drilling equipment on the property...'”

Jake looked at his brother. He sat stiff in his chair, his hand tightly clasped on the arm, staring straight ahead. The oil well. Jared's oil well. Three years ago, J.T. had taken it away. Now, in his death, he was giving it back.

Myrna clamped her mouth shut. Her gray eyes glistened with anger, but she said nothing.

“‘...and to my daughter, Jessica Stone, I leave fifteen thousand acres that contain the remains of Makeshift, an abandoned town.'”

Stunned, Jessica sat there for a moment, then as she glanced from Jared to Jake, a brilliant smile spread across her face. Jake knew that Jessica had spent half her childhood in the abandoned town. It had been like a giant playhouse for her. What she would do with it now Jake hadn't a clue, but he had no doubt she'd think of something. In fact, based on the look in her blue eyes, the wheels were already turning.

“What about my husband's other assets?” Myrna asked expectantly.

Woodard shook his head. “J.T.'s accountant sent me the past three years of financial statements, Mrs. Stone. It seems that all of his cash and liquid assets were drained to remodel his private residence. There's only a few thousand left, and as stipulated in the will, that money will be equally divided amongst you and his children.”

Jake watched Myrna's face turn white at the lawyer's unexpected news. The woman had spent the past ten years building and continuously remodeling a two-story, six-thousand-square-foot monument to herself, and now she had the nerve to sit here and look surprised because there was no more money. If he didn't feel so damn ticked off about it, he might have actually laughed at the irony of it all.

A sour taste rose in Jake's throat. It would hardly affect Myrna, anyway. She not only had money from her first husband, but her own father, Carlton Hewitt
III,
owned half of Houston and was busy trying to buy the rest, as well. What the hell was a few thousand more or less to her, in land or money? Her father had always given her everything she'd wanted. To himself, and to Jared and Jessica, it was the difference between losing Stone Creek or preserving their father's legacy.

And that, above anything else, was what Jake intended to do.

“Well, then,” Myrna said crisply as she dropped her handkerchief into her purse and snapped it shut, “if that's all, then—”

“I'm afraid it's not, Mrs. Stone.” Everyone turned and looked at the lawyer. He appeared slightly uncomfortable. “There's still one more bequest in the will.”

“To the tune of ten thousand acres, I believe,” Jake said thoughtfully.

Woodard nodded.

“J.T.'s entire family is sitting in this room,” Myrna said sharply. “Who else would my husband leave anything to?”

The lawyer glanced at the document and read, “‘To Emma Victoria Roberts Stone.'” He lifted his gaze as he stared at the Stone children. “J.T.'s nine-year-old daughter.”

No one moved. It seemed as if no one breathed. Her face rigid, Myrna gripped her black leather purse so tightly it creaked. “Mr. Woodard, J.T. and I were married for eleven years. Surely I'd know if he had...that is, if there was an indiscretion of that nature. There must be some mistake.”

“I realize what a shock this must be to you all, but your husband did, in fact, father a child, Mrs. Stone. While he was married to you.”

“A sister?”
Jessica whispered, leaning forward in her seat. “We have a sister?”

“Yes, Miss Stone.”

Disbelieving, Jessica glanced at both her brothers, then back to the lawyer. “But...how?”

Jared looked at Jessica and raised a brow. “We'll talk later.”

Jessica frowned at him. “What I mean is, why didn't we know? How could he not tell us?”

Woodard adjusted his glasses. “It was only recently that your father himself found out. As of this time, I'm afraid our information on the child is extremely limited. We do know that she's nine years old, and we believe she's living in the South somewhere, but that's about it. Your father hired a private investigator to find her, but unfortunately J.T. passed away before the man could locate the mother or the child. However—” the lawyer looked at Jake “—your father has requested in his will that Jake continue the search.”

Ignoring Myrna's incredulous look, Jake stared straight ahead.
An affair.
His father had had an affair.

And I have a new kid sister.

“This is ridiculous.” Myrna's voice was tight with anger. “Even if there is a child—and I certainly don't believe there is—what difference does it make now? J.T. is gone. There's absolutely no reason to look for her.”

Jessica put her hand on Jake's arm. “Of course we'll look for her. Won't we, Jake?”

Jake looked down at his sister. “She's a Stone, isn't she?”

Jessica hugged him, knocking off his Stetson.

“Never a dull moment,” Jared said, shaking his head and smiling.

“You sure as hell can say that again,” Jake replied, returning his sister's hug. “Welcome home, little brother.”