Cowboy Come Home

by Carly Bloom

  Inside the bunkhouse, the kitchen was a mess—the guys had been working long hours—and Ford made a mental note to talk to Beau and Bryce about it. They were the responsible ones. He went to the door of Kit’s room and knocked softly, just in case the kid really was sick and was sleeping. There was no answer, so he turned the knob and quietly pushed the door open. Kit was lying in his bunk, but he wasn’t sleeping. He had earbuds in and was watching something on his phone. A greasy bag of fast food was on the bed next to him.

  Ford walked over and tapped him on the head. Kit jumped and yanked an earbud out. “Hey, Ford. What’s up?”

  “That’s the question I was just about to ask you. You’re supposed to be working on fences today.”

  As if suddenly remembering he was sick, Kit wilted right before Ford’s eyes. In a soft, whiny voice he said, “Yeah, my stomach has been real upset today. I was having a hard time keeping food down.”

  Ford counted three hamburger wrappers. It looked like he was keeping things down just fine. There was an easy way to test Ford’s theory. “That’s too bad. Worth and I are going to Tony’s to get a drink.”

  “We are?” Worth said.

  Kit sat up. “Tony’s?”

  “Yeah. Too bad you’re sick and can’t come along. It’s ladies’ night.”

  Kit set his phone down. Ran a hand through his hair. “I’m actually feeling a lot better,” he said. “I think maybe it was just something I ate.”

  Beau stuck his head in the door. “Did I hear somebody say ladies’ night?”

  The rest of the crew was coming in.

  Ford motioned at Worth. “This is my brother, Worth. He’s going to be helping out with fences, and he’ll be staying here in the bunkhouse.”

  “Nice to meet you. I’m Beau Montgomery. You look a little familiar. Have you worked here before?”

  “Nah.”

  “He’s a saddle bronc rider,” Ford said. “Or used to be, anyway.”

  “That’s it!” Beau said. “You’re Baby Jarvis. Man, you’re really something. And so young! You’ve already retired?”

  “Cool your jets. His head is big enough, and he’ll be hammering fence posts with the rest of us lowlifes come tomorrow morning. I’d appreciate it if you guys could help him get settled in.”

  “No problem,” Beau said. “But first, let’s settle his ass on a barstool, see what’s on tap, and give him a proper welcome.”

  * * *

  Half an hour later, Ford sat at a table nursing a beer and watching his little brother. The kid was uncharacteristically quiet, no doubt trying to figure out a way to lecture Ford about Claire. The two of them had taken an oath to keep each other out of woman trouble, and they’d both had to fulfill that oath on more than one occasion.

  But Ford wasn’t in the mood for it tonight.

  Luckily, Worth seemed preoccupied with his phone, which he’d hardly put down since they got to Tony’s. It was weird, because he wasn’t the kind of guy who had to be plugged in all the time.

  Manuel, Beau, and Bryce hadn’t gotten off the dance floor since they walked in the door, and Kit hadn’t gotten off a barstool. Ford was keeping an eye on him. He was laughing and carrying on with a couple of hotheads Ford recognized from the Kelsey Ranch. He definitely didn’t like the company Kit kept.

  “So, you’re hanging up your rodeo chaps for real?” he asked his brother.

  Worth set his phone down. “Yeah, I am. Life on the road is hard. And it’s only a matter of time before an injury causes me to have no choice. I’d rather walk out of my own free will and with my back in one piece. I do have one final go-round in Fort Worth in a few weeks. Lots of money at stake, so I’m going to see it through. But then I’m done.”

  Ford was relieved. Watching Worth ride was gut-wrenching. He always held his breath until the buzzer went off or Worth hit the dirt, whichever came first. He just couldn’t understand daredevils, although he clearly seemed to be drawn to them.

  “I’ll drink to your back being all in one piece,” he said, raising his bottle. “But I admit to being a little surprised. Are you going to survive without regular hits of fear and adrenaline?”

  Worth raised his bottle and touched it to Ford’s. “I’m still getting regular hits, brother. Just a different source.”

  Dear Lord. What had the idiot taken up? Motorcycles? Race cars? Skydiving?

  “It’s a woman,” Worth said.

  Ford set his bottle on the table. Worth had had his share of women, even at his young age. But why would he hang up his spurs for one? What the holy hell was going on?

  Worth removed his hat and put it on the seat next to him. He ran a hand through his long, sandy hair, and then he slowly looked up. What Ford saw in his eyes was…

  Pure delusion.

  “I’m in love, Ford.”

  Ford shook his head. Even grinned a little. They could get through this. It wasn’t the first time Worth had fallen for someone, and God knew it wouldn’t be the last. Ford was just glad the kid hadn’t gotten himself into real trouble.

  “Let me get you another beer and we’ll sort this thing out.”

  Ford looked around the room. Where was a buckle bunny when you needed one? A little attention from some rodeo groupies was probably all it would take to turn Worth around.

  “I’m engaged.”

  Ford set his beer down. “What?”

  “I said I’m engaged. You know, to be married.”

  After all the lectures Ford had given him, Worth had been careless. “How far along is she?”

  Worth became very still. He glared at Ford with the intensity of a laser cutting through steel. “Don’t make me hit you.”

  Ford leaned back in his chair. Goddammit. The kid had gone and done it. Tipped the first domino. More would follow, and he’d be walking in Johnny Appleseed’s footsteps in no time.

  And he was just twenty-one.

  “Her name is Caroline Lopez, and she’s not pregnant,” Worth added through clenched teeth.

  That was a relief. Maybe Ford could talk some sense into the kid yet.

  “Where’d you meet her?”

  Ford would bet his life it was—

  “At the rodeo.”

  Bingo.

  “She was on leave, and she and her friends had decided to hit up the San Antonio Stock Show and Rodeo.”

  “On leave?”

  “Army. She’s a nurse. It was her first rodeo.” Worth grinned a little. “I mean that literally. It was actually her first rodeo.”

  This was not what Ford had expected to hear. He was speechless as his mind clicked along, trying to adjust its assumptions in the face of reality.

  “I know what you’re thinking. And it’s true that we’re both young, although she’s two years older than me, but we’re in love. We want to get married. And I’m willing to give up rodeoing so I can settle down. Her folks are in San Antonio, and I’m looking for a full-time ranch position nearby.”

  “And the curse?” Ford asked. “What about the curse?”

  Worth looked him right in the eye. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” he said. “The curse is bullshit, and I think you know it.”

  “But—”

  “You can keep running if you want,” Worth said. “But I’m done.”

  Ford couldn’t even process what he’d just heard, much less his feelings about it.

  A little bit of panic. A whole lot of concern.

  And overwhelming relief.

  What if Worth was right?

  “I don’t know what to say,” Ford said.

  “Most folks would say congratulations.”

  Ford shook his head. Took a deep breath. “Congratulations, Worth. I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  Movement at the entrance to the bar caught Ford’s eye, and his heart began stuttering like a faulty fuel pump. It was Claire. It had barely been two hours since he’d dropped her off at Petal Pushers, but it felt like an eternity. The tugging at his midsection started. I
t was so intense it nearly yanked him out of his chair.

  Claire’s head spun around, as if she’d felt it, too. Their eyes met, she smiled, and the ground tilted. Ford had to clench the edge of the table to keep from falling.

  “You okay, Ford?” Worth stared at him with concern. “Can I get you a glass of water or something?”

  “Huh? No, I’m fine,” Ford said, taking a swig of beer and wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “Just fine.”

  Worth turned to see where Ford had been looking. When he turned back around, he wore a huge, dumb grin. “I just saw what made all the blood drain out of your face.”

  “Knock it off,” Ford said. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Worth picked up his beer and snickered. “And I bet I know where it went.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  The familiar straw cowboy hat—brim curved down low—had caught Claire’s eye as soon as she’d walked through the door of Tony’s. The sight made her knees weak. Holy cow. It had just been two hours since she’d seen him, but she wanted to run across the bar and jump right in his lap.

  Luckily, that was impossible. Tony’s was absolutely packed. This was maybe not the best night for Alice’s honky-tonk initiation, but it was too late now. They were here, they were going to honky-tonk, and they were apparently going to do it with Ford Jarvis.

  The jukebox was blasting, and she spotted Bryce stirring up sawdust with…a TV news anchor? She grinned. They must have met during the flood. Next Beau blew past with Doris Estrada—he’d dance with every woman in the place before the night was over—followed by Manuel and a cute little blonde Claire didn’t recognize. The Rancho Cañada Verde cowboys were out on the town.

  “Come on,” Claire said to Alice, grabbing her hand. “I see someone I know.”

  Ford stood up, followed by the other man at the table. Oh! It was Worth!

  She dragged Alice over, and before she could even say hello, Worth grabbed her and lifted her off her feet, spinning her around twice before setting her back down. “Hey there, darlin’,” he said. “You’re sure a sight for sore eyes.”

  God. What a delightful flirt. “You’re not so bad yourself,” she said. “But are you even legal? What are you doing with that beer?”

  “The rascal just turned twenty-one,” Ford said, patting his brother on the back. “He’s still a baby, though.”

  “Well, of course,” Claire said. “Right down to the name.”

  She pinched Worth on the cheek and was rewarded with an adorable blush.

  “Did Ford tell you I’ll be working for your daddy?”

  “He did. And that is such great news, because we need the help.”

  “Oh, he’s full of great news tonight,” Ford said.

  Was that a tinge of sarcasm in Ford’s tone?

  “I’m engaged,” Worth said.

  Claire put her hands to her cheeks. This was a surprise. Worth was so young, but gosh, his face was beaming. The boy was in love. “Oh my goodness! Congratulations, Worth.”

  “Thank you. Have a seat and I’ll go get you a beer so you can join the celebration.” He paused and looked at Alice. “Can I get something for your friend?”

  Oh gosh! She’d been so thrown by seeing Ford and by Worth’s announcement that she’d completely forgotten about Alice.

  “I am so sorry,” she said, looking at Alice. “I forgot my manners there for a minute. This is Worth Jarvis.”

  Alice blushed a little. Whether it was bashfulness or Worth’s sparkling green eyes, Claire couldn’t say. “Hi. I’m Alice Martin.”

  “Nice to meet you, Alice. Would you like a beer?”

  “I would love a beer, and congratulations on your engagement!”

  “Thank you.” Worth motioned to his chair. “Why don’t you have a seat?”

  Alice started to sit, but then jumped right up. “Oops. There’s a hat on the chair.” She picked it up and set it on the table…on its brim.

  Claire knew what was coming, as no cowboy in his right mind would ever allow a hat to sit on its brim. Worth grabbed it quickly and flipped it over.

  “It’s bad luck to set a hat down like that,” he said, smiling nervously.

  Alice laughed, but then it seemed to dawn on her that Worth wasn’t joking.

  “Oh, dear,” Alice said. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” Ford said, giving his little brother a stern look while patting Alice’s arm.

  All cowboys were superstitious. If Claire’s dad saw a cowboy set his hat down like that, he’d tell him to stay off his horse the next day. Let that bad luck wear off.

  Rodeo cowboys were even worse. They wouldn’t ride with change in their pockets. And they all rode with a lucky charm. As owner of the cursed hat, Worth still looked concerned. “It was only on the brim for a couple of seconds,” he mused.

  “There’s a five-second rule,” Claire said quickly.

  Worth looked up. “Really?”

  “Yep.”

  “Whew!” he said. “That was close.”

  He turned for the bar, but then reached back and grabbed his hat, eyeing Alice warily.

  Claire sat down next to Ford, who was busy smirking at her.

  “What?”

  “There’s no five-second rule.”

  “You don’t know that for certain.”

  “Pretty sure I do.”

  Claire winked at him. “But Worth doesn’t. And I don’t think you’ve ever met Alice, have you? She works at the library.”

  “Well, I used to,” Alice said sadly. “And honestly, I should have known about the hat. I’ve read an entire book on cowboy superstitions and folklore.”

  “It’s nice to meet you,” Ford said. “And don’t worry about the hat. Worth’s probably already forgotten about it.”

  That was doubtful.

  “It’s also bad luck to put a hat on the bed,” Alice said.

  Ford nodded. “The worst luck. I heard about a guy who set his hat on the bed, and on that very night his house caught fire and burned to the ground.”

  “Oh my!” Alice said. “Did he survive?”

  “Unfortunately, no.”

  “Then who told the tale?” Claire asked.

  Ford looked at her quizzically.

  “If he set his hat on the bed and then promptly burned to a crisp, how did folks even know he set his hat on the bed?”

  “Well, I don’t rightly know—”

  Worth set two beers on the table. “Y’all talking about that guy who set his hat on the bed and burned his house down?”

  Claire rolled her eyes. “Never happened.”

  “Do you know the real reason cowboys don’t set their hats on the bed?” Alice asked.

  Worth sat down. “Because it will cause their house to burn down?”

  Claire rolled her eyes again, this time with vigor. Cowboys loved stories, and they loved superstitions. They especially loved stories involving the tragic outcomes of ignored superstitions.

  “No,” Alice replied. “The origin of that superstition is most likely head lice. You see, back in the day, an awful lot of cowboys had head lice, and setting a hat on the bed meant sharing them with whoever happened to sleep there next—”

  “Also, it’s bad luck,” Worth said, scratching his head.

  Ford nodded in agreement. Then he removed his hat and scratched his head, too.

  Claire refused to give in to the urge.

  Alice took a sip of beer. “That book had a lot of interesting information in it. Do you know why cowboys won’t wear yellow? Or where the saying useless as a hind tit on a boar hog comes from?”

  “I know yellow is bad luck,” Worth said. “But I don’t know why. And I assume a tit is useless because a boar hog is a male?”

  Alice had a captive audience in Worth, and Claire couldn’t help but smile when her friend cleared her throat in anticipation of delivering her first honky-tonk lecture.

  Ford’s knee bumped Claire’s beneath the table, but he took a
sip of beer and gave no indication that he’d done it on purpose.

  He had, though. So, Claire bumped him back and almost got a grin as Alice chattered on happily about how yellow was associated with fear and some people thought hind tit referred to a testicle.

  A piano melody floated through the air. It was the intro to “Bless the Broken Road” by Rascal Flatts, which was one of Claire’s favorite songs. She and Ford had once danced to it inside the old stone chapel. A moonbeam had served as their spotlight.

  It seemed like the only time she wasn’t worried about the ranch or her father was when she was with Ford. She wanted his arms around her and for the world to shrink to just the two of them.

  “Want to dance?” she asked.

  Her heart fluttered. She broke out in a light sweat. What if he said no?

  The corners of Ford’s mouth turned up ever so slightly. “Well, I don’t really want to hear Alice talk about tits on boar hogs, or on anything else, for that matter,” he said. “So, let’s dance.”

  * * *

  Ford wrapped his arms around Claire, pulling her as close as he dared. They’d easily melted into the sea of swaying bodies, and now he just wanted to melt into her.

  Her hair tickled his chin as they swayed, and he realized she was sweetly singing along with the song.

  The song. It was the same one they’d danced to in the moonlight at the old stone chapel.

  They had a song.

  Did Claire remember? She stopped singing and looked up at him. “That’s such wonderful news about Worth’s engagement.”

  Ford couldn’t fake the proper amount of enthusiasm. “Mm-hm,” was all he managed.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. I just hope it works out is all. It probably won’t.”

  “Aw. You’re such a ray of sunshine.”

  He grinned. “It’s what makes me fun at parties.”

  “He is rather young, though,” Claire said.

  Ford nodded, because that was definitely part of it. “She’s a nurse. In the army.”

  “Really? She must have her head on straight then.”

  “I’d believe that if she weren’t engaged to my brother.”