Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Before they were old enough to help out at Honky Tonk Heaven, the Hennessys spent a lot of time looking for ways to entertain themselves. Which usually meant getting into trouble in town, but occasionally they would find something less ornery to do.
It had been Huck’s idea to build a boat after he discovered an old ship’s wheel in the attic.
Huck had always loved to build things. He’d built igloos with ice blocks and birdhouses with Popsicle sticks and a roofless doghouse for their old mutt, Samson, out of nothing but mud and straw bricks he’d made and dried in the sun.
He was convinced that if they built a boat, they could sell rides down the river to kids in town and make a boatload of money.
It had taken an entire summer to complete the boat, or not a boat as much as a raft with a ramshackle hut sitting on top that they’d made out of wine and liquor crates.
The moment they launched it from the shore, it sank like a stone.
Luckily, it had been a dry summer and the water was only a foot deep.
So Jaxon, Dawson, and Huck had all clamored into the river and dragged the raft to shore while Poppy had run back to the house in tears that she wouldn’t get a ride on a boat.
Daddy had been home at the time. To soothe his little princess, he’d arrived at the bank of the river. After looking at the raft his sons had built, he’d declared it unseaworthy.
At least in water.
He’d looked at Poppy and winked. “But that doesn’t mean it can’t sail through the skies.”
He’d rigged up a pulley in a huge pecan tree that grew in an open meadow just north of the river and they’d hoisted the raft into it.
After eighteen years, the tree boat was still there . . . along with the other levels added over the years until it resembled the Swiss Family Robinson’s multi-level tree house.
The main deck was weathered and a little more precarious than Jaxon remembered. It creaked and shifted in the branches when Jaxon and Dawson climbed aboard. Of course, they weren’t lightweight kids anymore.
But they had worse things to worry about than falling from a tree. Once they were stretched on the warm deck with their hands behind their heads, Dawson spoke.
“I guess that’s that. The bank in Austin was our last hope of getting the money we need to continue with renovations.”
Jaxon didn’t reply. There was nothing to say. It had been their last hope. They had all tried getting loans from different banks. Not one had panned out.
“And maybe it’s for the best,” Dawson continued. “Even with a loan, the chances of us completing it on time are slim to none. Even Mickey has our chances at twenty to one in the town’s betting pool.”
Jaxon felt his temper rise. “Fuck the town’s betting pool. And fuck Mickey. It pisses me off that he can run betting pools and gambling in his gas station and the sheriff doesn’t do one damn thing about it. And yet, Sheriff Gentry never let us get away with anything.”
Dawson sighed. “We did get away with something, Jax. Or I guess I should say I got away with something.”
After Jaxon was arrested, he and Dawson had never mentioned that night again.
Dawson had tried, but Jaxon had always shut him down.
They’d never talked about Dawson borrowing Jaxon’s truck that night.
Or how he’d stolen a bottle of whiskey from Honky Tonk Heaven, gotten drunk, and set the old tires Mickey kept behind the gas station on fire.
As much as Huck loved building things, Dawson loved destroying them. He was the Hennessy who threw rocks at windows, beat mailboxes with bats, and set fire to tires. The Hennessy who used destruction and criminal activity to get out his anger. But he always regretted it.
“You should have let me tell the sheriff my side of the story instead of taking the fall, Jaxon.”
“You were seventeen, drunk, and rambling, Dawg. The sheriff wouldn’t have believed your side of the story. And even if he had, he would have taken you in for setting those tires on fire. Not to mention being a minor and driving drunk.”
Dawson rolled to his side, his gaze intense. “Do you believe my side of the story, Jax?”
Jaxon wanted to believe his brother, but it was hard to believe Dawson had only set the tires on fire when the cash register drawer was open and empty when the sheriff got there.
Who else would have taken the money? He probably should have let Dawson pay for what he’d done, but damned if he’d been able to do it. And it didn’t matter now.
“It’s water under the bridge,” he said.
Dawson looked away and swallowed hard. “Yeah . . . until it floods and takes out the bridge.”
It did feel like the bridge their mama had given them had been swept away.
Jaxon couldn’t help voicing a question that had been circling his head for weeks. “Do you think Rosie didn’t give us enough money for renovations on purpose? Do you think she wanted us to fail?”
Dawson probably wasn’t the best person to ask.
If anyone held a grudge against their mama, it was Dawson.
While Huck had tried to make Rosie laugh, Poppy had demanded her attention, and Jaxon had worked himself silly in the bar to get her praise, Dawson had completely ignored her.
She would ask him a question and he’d act like he hadn’t heard.
She would tell him to do something and he would do just the opposite.
It had driven Rosie crazy.
She had never realized that was Dawson’s own way of getting her attention.
“Hell, yeah, I do.” Dawson thumped the deck with his fist. “It’s so like Rosie to build up our hopes of getting our hands on her money only to crush them.”
Jaxon hated to admit it, but he did feel crushed.
Not just about the money, but also about the lost opportunity to prove to the entire town that they were wrong about the Hennessys.
That Jaxon and his siblings weren’t just a bunch of no-accounts.
They could get the infamous bar reopened and leave their mark on the family legacy.
They might not stick around to run the bar, but they—the Hennessy Hooligans—would be the ones to bring it back to life.
He didn’t realize how badly he wanted that until it was out of his reach.
“Jax!”
Poppy’s bellow from below brought him out of his thoughts.
“Up here!” he yelled.
The rope ladder hanging over the side creaked and the raft shifted on the branches. A second later, Poppy’s head peeked over the edge. As usual, when she looked at Jaxon, she didn’t look happy.
“Why didn’t you tell me that y’all were going treeboatin’?”
Dawson answered the question. “Maybe because we thought one more person would send it crashing to the ground. Either hop abroad or get down. You’re unbalancing it.”
She climbed over the edge. “I’m unbalancing it? I’m not two hundred pound lardasses like you two are. I’m surprised The Princess hasn’t sunk by now.” She stepped in between them. “Now scoot over, lardasses!”
As upset as he was about failing at getting the money for the renovations, it felt nice to lie on the sun-dappled deck with his siblings. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath of humid Texas air.
“Where’s Huck? We should call him.”
“I don’t think one more person can fit on this boat,” Dawson said. “Especially a squirrelly brother who can’t keep still.”
Poppy rested her arm over her eyes. “You do have a point. Huck is still as hyper as a toddler on a sugar high. And he won’t want to join us anyway. Not when he’s busy entertaining Tully the Tattler.”
Jaxon sat straight up and stared at his sister. “Tully’s here?”
Poppy shifted her arm to her forehead and looked at him with wide innocent eyes. “Oh, did I forget to mention that your girlfriend stopped by to see you?”
“She’s not my girl—she came to see me?”
Poppy squinted. “Hmm? Is that what she said? I’m having trouble remembering her exact wording.”
Jaxon rolled his eyes as he got to his feet. “You’re really starting to piss me off, Pops.”
She covered her eyes again with her arm. “Good.”
Jaxon climbed over the edge to the ladder, causing the raft to rock and Dawson to yell.
“Dammit, Jax! You are a lardass.”
Jaxon wasn’t listening. His mind was too preoccupied with other thoughts.
Why was Tully there? Since she’d made it clear she wanted nothing to do with him, her visit had to be professional.
Had one of his siblings caused trouble in town again?
Or was this about Birdie? Had the bump he’d given her turn out to be more serious?
His stomach tightened at just the thought of injuring the old woman.
Birdie was one of the few people in town who didn’t treat him differently.
She was gruff and mean with everyone.
He arrived at the house to find Tully and Huck standing on the porch talking.
She wasn’t wearing her deputy uniform. Instead, she was dressed like she’d just come from church in a floral sundress that showed off her curvy figure and tanned legs.
Her straight hair fell around her shoulders and waved in the breeze like a wheat-colored sheet on a clothesline.
The silky mane was pretty, but he couldn’t help missing the wild curls.
She laughed at something Huck said and finally noticed Jaxon approaching.
Her Bambi eyes widening . . . no doubt because he was only wearing a pair of old gym shorts.
A gentleman would have excused himself and gone into the house to get a shirt.
But he wasn’t a gentleman. At least not with Tully.
She brought the ornery bad boy out in him.
Today was no exception.
“Good afternoon, Officer Gentry.” He climbed the porch steps and let his gaze slowly slide over her. “Or are you just plain ol’ Tully Gentry today?”
Huck jumped in. “Don’t mind my brother, Tully. He’s never known how to compliment a lady. You look like a fresh breath of sunshine today. You sure you don’t want that beer?” He winked at her. “Or I can drive you into town for a chocolate dipped cone at Sloppy Joe’s.”