Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
After dropping Magnolia off at the bookstore, Dawson spent the rest of the afternoon worrying about how the surgery was going and mentally kicking himself for taking on the responsibility of a dog.
But between Magnolia’s pleading look and his own guilt over hitting the dog, he hadn’t been able to let them put Wilbur down.
Wilbur.
The dog looked nothing like a Wilbur. Even out cold, he looked like a vicious attack dog that could rip a man’s throat out in a blink. He was now Dawson’s responsibility. And Dawson wasn’t good with dogs. Or maybe it was dogs that weren’t good with him.
They seemed to hate him.
After being barked and growled at by every dog he met, he wasn’t too partial to them either.
Which didn’t explain the relief that flooded him when the vet called and said Wilbur had survived the surgery and was doing well. That relief was quickly followed by disbelief when he asked what he owed and the vet told him.
The bill was more than Dawson had paid for his old classic truck.
He was trying to figure out how he was going to get the money when Huck’s loud yell had him startling and dropping his cellphone.
“Geronimo!”
Dawson looked up in time to see Huck swinging down from the treeboat’s crow’s nest on a rope. He sailed past Dawson and out over the edge of the library deck before swinging back.
Dawson would have let him go if he hadn’t been worried about Huck hitting the tree trunk. He jumped up from the old metal lawn chair and grabbed Huck’s T-shirt, ripping the thin cotton before bringing him to a slow-swaying halt.
“Dammit, Dawg!” Huck jumped off the knot of the rope and glanced down at his tattered shirt. “This is my favorite shirt.”
“Yeah. And you could have been buried in that favorite shirt, you idiot!”
Huck grinned sheepishly. “You’re right. I really didn’t think that through.” Huck never thought anything through, but Dawson couldn’t blame him since he had the same issue.
He reached down and picked up the phone, holding it to his ear. “Sorry about that. You still there?”
The vet’s voice came through the receiver. “I’m here. You can either pay in full when you pick up the dog in a few days or you can set up a payment plan.”
Dawson had never wanted to skip out on a bill more in his life. But then he remembered the look Magnolia had given him when he’d agreed to take responsibility for the dog and he sighed. “I’ll set up a payment plan when I pick up Wilbur.” He ended the call and flopped down in the chair.
Huck stood over him looking confused. “Wilbur? Who’s Wilbur?”
“A dog.”
“A real dog?”
He sent his brother an annoyed look. “No. A stuffed one.”
Huck sat down in the opposite chair. “Well, pardon me for being confused, but you have never been a dog person. And with good reason. Dogs hate you. Even our old dog, Mutt, didn’t like you.
And that dog loved everyone. And remember the Bradys’ Pit Bull that chased you for three blocks until you had to climb that tree in the town square park.
You had to stay up there until Poppy arrived and chased the dog off.
” He laughed. “And then there was Miss Mitchell’s little bitty terrier that latched onto your leg.
It took me tempting it with my ice cream cone before it finally let go.
” He started gasping for air but still didn’t shut up. “And . . . then . . . there was—
Dawson cut him off. “Shut the fuck up before I shut you up.”
Huck sobered, but a smile still trembled on his lips. “I’m just pointing out that dogs might be a man’s best friend, but they are not yours.”
Dawson smiled as the solution to his problem occurred to him. “Which is why I’m gifting the dog to you.”
Huck held up his hands. “Hell, no, you’re not. I don’t want the responsibility of a dog. I’d forget to feed it or water it or whatever you need to do for dogs. I can’t even remember to feed and water myself.”
“That’s bullshit. You’re always eating.”
“If someone else makes it or goes and gets it.”
He did have a point. “Fine. I’ll give him to Jaxon and Tully. I bet they’d love a dog.”
“Does this dog like cats? Because Tully has a cat.”
Dawson remembered what Magnolia had told him about the Stocktons’ chickens. He could only imagine how pissed Jaxon would be if Tully’s cat, Dumplin’, got eaten.
“Okay, so maybe not Tully and Jaxon. But Poppy could use a guard dog to watch out for her when she returns to Austin.”
“She’s not returning to Austin.”
Dawson stared at him. “What?”
Huck shrugged. “Now that Wylynn has a new girlfriend, Poppy doesn’t think she should go back to Austin. And I agree. If she sees them together, she’s going to kill him. Or his new girlfriend. Or possibly both. So, until she cools down, she’s going to stay here and work at the dancehall.”
“But she doesn’t want to run a bar. She wants to be a singer.”
“I know, but as The Rolling Stones would say, you don’t always get what you want.”
Dawson refused to accept that for his sister. “She’s going back to Austin. She can’t give up on her dream just because an asshole hurt her.”
“I agree. But I think she needs time to find her music again. She will. When we get our inheritance, she’ll have the money to cut her own album.”
Dawson had been too busy worrying about Wilbur to give any thought to what had happened that morning at the Stockton Ranch.
Now, the oddity of Cadee hiding upstairs struck him.
She was not the shy, hiding type. While her brothers had been too goody-goody for the Hennessys, Cadee had loved hanging out at the house and dancehall. She and Huck had been best friends.
Suddenly, Dawson realized Huck hadn’t mentioned Cadee once since coming back. Which was weird, considering how close they’d been.
“Why haven’t you been to see Cadee Stockton since you got home?”
Huck jerked upright as if he’d been shocked with a cattle prod. “Cadee Stockton? Why would I go see Cadee?”
Dawson stared at him. “Maybe because you were inseparable as kids.”
Huck suddenly seemed preoccupied with the hole in the knee of his jeans. “Yeah, well, as kids are the key words. Just because we were friends as kids, doesn’t mean we’re friends now. People grow up and go their separate ways. That’s just how life works.”
He studied his brother, knowing there was more to the story. He just didn’t have time to pry it out of him. “Whatever. Can you give me her phone number?”
Huck’s head snapped up. “Why do you want her number? From what I hear, she’s got a kid, Dawson. You taught me yourself that you don’t fool around with a mama. And what happened with Magnolia? I thought you had your eye on her.”
“I don’t have my eye on Magnolia. We’re just friends.”
Huck sent him a smirk. “Yeah, that’s what it looked like the other night when you were cuddled up dancing. Just friends.”
“Shut up. I’m not trying to hook up with Magnolia. And I’m not wanting to hook up with Cadee either. She organized the volunteers to take food to Mama after her stroke and I’m thinking one of those people could be the person contesting the will.”
Huck laughed. “I knew it! I knew you were too pigheaded to listen to Jaxon and let Billy handle it.”
“You better not tell him.”
“My lips are zipped.” Huck mimed zipping his lips as he got to his feet. “Speaking of Jaxon, we better haul ass or we’re going to be late for the family dinner.”
Every Sunday afternoon, they had dinner at Jaxon and Tully’s house. After dealing with the Stockton brothers and running over a dog, Dawson wasn’t really in the mood to go. But he knew if he didn’t, Jaxon would be upset. He seemed to get a big kick out of acting like a normal family.
Besides, if Dawson went, maybe he could talk one of his family members into taking Wilbur. Tully’s Grandma Birdie always came for dinner and Birdie had a farm, the perfect place for a big dog.
But as it turned out, Magnolia had told Tully the entire story and Tully had relayed that story to Birdie.
Birdie believed in fate.
“I always say that things happen for a reason.” She passed him the platter of ribs and chicken Jaxon had smoked in his new smoker. “It was no accident that Wilbur jumped out in front of your truck and you hit him. God wanted you to have a dog.”
“Wait a second.” Huck spoke around the dinner roll he’d been shoving into his mouth. “You ran over the dog? You left out that important piece of information, big brother.”
“What are y’all talking about? What dog?” Poppy cuddled Dumplin’. Or more like held the cat in a death grip. Poppy was as gentle with animals as she was with humans. Maybe Poppy wasn’t the pet owner for Wilbur.
“If I’ve pieced everything together correctly,” Huck said as he grabbed another dinner roll.
“Our brother hit a dog, then he felt guilty—because he feels guilty about everything—and agreed to take responsibility for the dog. But now that the dog is going to survive, he’s having second thoughts.
Probably because he remembered dogs hate him. ”
Tully looked at Dawson. “Dogs hate you? But Magnolia said you were so loving with Wilbur.”
“It’s not Dawson being loving with them,” Huck said. “It’s them being loving with Dawson. They like to use him as a squeaky toy. Which is why he’s scared to death of them.”
Poppy laughed but stopped when Birdie shot her a warning look.
Birdie seemed to be the only one who could get away with correcting Poppy.
“Fear is nothing to laugh at. And being completely unaware of animals’ needs is just as bad as being scared of them.
That cat is not a stuffed animal, Poppy. Put Dumplin’ down.”
Poppy quickly put the cat down as Birdie turned to Dawson. “Animals can sense fear. But once they realize you don’t mean them any harm—and once you realize that all they want is to be loved and cared for—they’ll love and care for you right back.”
“Yeah, Dawg.” Huck piled more ribs and chicken on his plate. “Give the dawg a chance.”
“I agree with Birdie,” Jaxon said. “I think it was meant to be that you’re now the owner of a dog.”
“Amen,” Birdie said. “Speaking of which. Let’s take hands and thank the Lord for this fine feast.” She sent Huck an annoyed look. “That’s if some rude people can stop shoving it into their mouths long enough.”
Huck put down the chicken wing. “Sorry, Birdie.”
After the prayer, everyone dug in. Dawson was almost finished when Tully’s daddy, Sheriff Gentry, spoke.
“I have a surprise for y’all.” He wiped his mouth with a napkin and cleared his throat. “I’ve decided to reopen the case of Mickey’s Gas Station robbery.”
Huck froze in the process of scooping up peach cobbler. Poppy went into a coughing fit. And Jaxon’s face lost all color. Dawson just felt like throwing up.
“I wouldn’t be able to bring charges against them because the statute of limitations has expired,” the sheriff continued.
“But if I find out who it is, then the townsfolk will stop blaming Jaxon.” He glanced around.
“And hopefully, it will make them see how much they’ve misjudged your entire family. ”
All his siblings shot Dawson a quick glance before Tully spoke.
“There’s no need to do that, Daddy. What’s done is done.”
“Yeah,” Huck said. “Let’s just let bygones be bygones. I don’t mind a little town gossip.”
Poppy nodded. “What would we be if we weren’t the notorious Hennessy Hooligans?”
Everyone looked at Dawson to put his two cents worth in. He should have just gone along with his family. But he was tired of carrying the guilt of that night.
“Actually, I do think it’s time the truth came—”
Jaxon cut him off. “Dawson, I’m sure Sheriff Gentry has better things to do than to spend his time on a cold case that’s not going to make a difference in how people feel about us.
We’ll always be the Hennessy Hooligans and with just cause.
We were pretty wild kids.” He shoved back his chair.
“Now come out back and help me clean the smoker.”
Once they were in the backyard away from the house, Jaxon turned on him. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“What I should have done a long time ago. Confessing.”
“Like hell you are. I don’t care if the statute of limitations is up, I don’t want Tully’s daddy knowing what really happened that night.”
“And why is that, Jax? Is it because you never did believe that I didn’t rob Mickey’s?”
Jaxon looked away. “That’s not it at all.”
Dawson’s temper flared. “Bullshit! I can see the accusation in your eyes every time you look at me. After that night, you have never trusted me. The perfect example was the fire at Honky Tonk Heaven. You didn’t even ask me. You just assumed it was me.”
Jaxon looked back at him. “And can you blame me? All your life you’ve gone around starting fires I had to put out.
So, what do you expect? Do you think I should trust you?
Do think that just because you’re my brother I should automatically believe in your innocence?
Because that’s not how it works, Dawson.
Trust is earned. And you’ve never cared about earning it. ”
Dawson had thought that was what he’d been doing all these years. Earning back Jaxon’s trust. But it looked like that wasn’t the case.
All the anger drained out of him . . . replaced with a pain he couldn’t deal with.
Without another word, he turned and headed back inside.
“That was fast,” Tully said. “Y’all get the smoker cleaned?”
“No,” he said as he grabbed his hat off the hook by the door. “Sometimes things are just too dirty to ever get clean.”