Caught by the Cowboy Dad

by Melinda Curtis

  “If there was, he’d have driven the other way to Boise.” Holden shut the door behind him. He wasn’t five steps out before the door opened again. There was no stopping Bernadette.

  Myrna’s blue truck barreled down the road toward them. Both she and Frankie were in the cab.

  Shane got out of the Suburban. Three young cowboys, including young Adam, poked their heads out the windows, looking around with curiosity in their eyes.

  “We searched every campground between Yellowstone and Second Chance looking for you.” Shane’s short dark hair was mussed, as if he’d run his hands through it a few times too many. The relaxed demeanor of a few days ago was missing. “Holden, I need you.”

  Holden crossed his arms over the marching elephants on his chest. “Of all the people I’d like to hear that from, you are probably last on the list.” But he was family, and Holden would never turn him away.

  Myrna parked behind Shane and got out. “Do you know this man, Holden? He’s trespassing.”

  “This is my cousin Shane.”

  “He’s rude.” Frankie joined her grandmother. “Gran told him to park at the tour office, and he just rolled right past the moment she confirmed you were here.”

  “In my defense...” Shane gave Myrna and Frankie a repentant smile, “I have three cowpokes in my vehicle. Boys, I see a river and a bathroom. You know which to hit first.”

  On cue, Davey, Charlie and Adam tumbled out.

  The littlest cowboy, Adam, came over to Holden. “Papa Shane said we’d find you.”

  “Great.” Holden patted the top of Adam’s cowboy hat. And then he fixed a hard stare on Shane. “I’m not going back until my vacation is over.” Family was important, but so was this time with Devin and Bernadette.

  “Let me rephrase.” Shane replanted his loafers on the asphalt. “The family needs you. A cowboy came to town and claims he’s a Monroe. He wants a share of Second Chance.”

  That gave Holden pause. He stared down at his sneakers, wishing they were cowboy boots. “He can have my share if you’re planning on keeping the town.” It held no value to Holden, and once he and Bernadette left Standing Bear, he wouldn’t want to return to Idaho. “Can’t this wait?”

  Bernadette placed her palm on the small of his back.

  The elephants marched faster. It became harder to breathe.

  This was new. She usually had those elephants lulled to sleep.

  Shane was frowning. “Well, this interloper also wants a share of the stagecoach gold.”

  Holden pressed his lips together. That he cared about. It would go a long way toward replenishing what Olivia had sunk in the ocean.

  “This is one of those times when you should assess your priorities,” Bernadette said softly but in a firm voice that indicated his doctor knew Holden wasn’t going to make a choice she approved of. “You’re here to find your emotional center and bond with Devin.”

  As usual, she hadn’t mentioned herself in his list of priorities.

  “I don’t want to go. Leave the motor home here.” Devin had an uncharacteristically stubborn note to his voice. Life experiences were giving him backbone.

  “The quicker we get rid of this guy, the better,” Shane said.

  The cheaper it’d be to buy him off, Shane meant. They both knew how things like this worked. The pressure to leave weighed heavily on Holden’s shoulders.

  “If we leave now, Dev,” Holden said absently, “you can make the first session of summer school at MIT Monday. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

  Devin’s brow clouded.

  Frankie took one look at his face and stormed off toward the barn.

  “I want to stay here,” Devin said, too late, it seemed, to appease Frankie. “Myrna and Frankie can use my help.”

  “We’ll be fine,” Myrna reassured Holden. “Francesca and I were fine before you came. We’ll make do after you leave.”

  Devin jogged after Frankie.

  “The family needs you,” Shane repeated. “I know you, Holden. After you talk to this guy, you’ll know exactly what we need to offer to get rid of him. That’s how you roll. We’ll buy him out, and that will be that.”

  Obligation fulfilled. That should make him feel relief. Family responsibility had been ingrained in him since birth.

  Holden glanced down at Bernadette, who he’d let down weeks ago when she told him she loved him. And then he looked to Devin’s retreating back. His son had grown so much in just a few days. Whatever Holden decided, it felt like he was letting both Bernadette and Dev down.

  Finally, Holden stared at his hands because it felt as if he’d let himself down, too. Or he would if he didn’t show up when the family needed him.

  “Yeah, I’ll go back with you,” Holden heard himself saying, as elephants attempted to trample his chest.

  * * *

  “FRANKIE?” DEVIN ENTERED the barn, closing the door behind him.

  It was dark. None of the doors were open. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust and find her.

  She stood at Shortcake’s stall. The tall strawberry roan had his head over the stall door. Her thin arms were looped around his neck.

  Devin wanted those arms looped around him.

  “Frankie,” he said again, hoarsely this time, as he crossed the breezeway to reach her, haul her into his arms and kiss her.

  What he lacked in technique and finesse, he was sure he made up for by making this first move a big, grand gesture.

  Suddenly, Frankie stumbled from his arms. “You’re leaving. For summer school.”

  “Guilty,” he said, nerd brain working on overdrive. “That was my plan long before we broke down here.”

  She frowned at him.

  “But now I have a different plan. Give me some time, and I—”

  “Dev! Devin!” His father’s shouts seemed to come closer. “We’re leaving. Let’s go.”

  Devin clasped Frankie’s upper arms and brought her close. “Trust me.” He touched her lips briefly one more time and ran for the door.

  * * *

  BERNADETTE HAD SLEPT on the drive to Standing Bear. Time had passed quickly.

  Driving back to Second Chance seemed to take a lifetime. No one talked. No one.

  Holden had a grip on the steering wheel that was white-knuckled. Devin sat in the passenger seat and stared straight ahead. Bernadette sat at the dinette, her suitcase and backpack on the seat across from her.

  And there were curves. Her head felt heavy, and her stomach felt light. She chewed several peppermints.

  The trip hadn’t worked out the way she’d wanted. By her own measure, it was a failure. She hadn’t come to an agreement with Holden about custody or visitation. In fact, all she’d done was string her heart along the extended broken-heart track.

  Time to put on your big-girl panties, Dr. Carlisle, and decide what you want, given Holden doesn’t love you.

  She wanted this baby to know and love Holden. She wanted to be on friendly terms with Holden and not feel this ache of longing when he was near. But to do so, she needed distance. Boundaries. No more holding hands or kissing.

  They neared Second Chance, and Bernadette’s phone chimed, announcing receipt of emails. Lots of them. She opened her inbox, eager for a distraction.

  “I got an offer to buy my practice,” she said upon seeing the subject line from Eric. Finally, things were turning around. She’d be able to keep her promise to her dad and Calvin.

  Eric was stingy with the details in the body of the email. She opened up the attachment, which was the formal offer for purchase.

  Bernadette gasped. “No.”

  “What’s wrong?” Holden spared her a quick glance over his shoulder. “Carsick?”

  “No,” Bernadette repeated, reading on, squinting at the small print on her phone. She drew in another sharp breath.
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  “What’s wrong?” Holden asked again.

  Devin looked back this time.

  “The buyout offer is lowballed, and it’s from Dr. Duntsch.” Bernadette fell back against the seat cushion. The faces of her patients and their stories filled her mind. She cared for all of them. But Dr. Dunce wouldn’t.

  Devin turned sideways in his seat. “Wait? Dr. Dunce? The jerk?”

  “Yes, the heartless jerk more interested in money than people.”

  “Is it a good offer?” Holden asked, because being a finance guy, he would.

  “Haven’t you heard a word I said? The offer is from Dr. Dunce!” She wanted to cry.

  “How good is the money?” Holden asked in that calm voice of his.

  Bernadette was screaming inside. “It’s twenty-five percent below asking.” She tossed her phone onto the dinette table. “I can’t accept, or I’ll be strapped helping Calvin with tuition.”

  “What about that intern or resident you liked at the hospital?” Devin asked.

  “Dr. Carrie isn’t going to be able to afford to buy my practice.” It was demoralizing to say that out loud. “Not for many years anyway.”

  “How long has your practice been for sale?” Again, Holden with that unruffled demeanor.

  “Just over a month. With the shortage of doctors, practices usually move quickly.” She reached for her phone, ready to give Eric an answer: On a cold day in hell...

  “You should accept the offer,” Holden said in that cool voice of his. “You know what they say about a bird in the hand. What happens if you don’t get another offer?”

  “What happens if I accept?” Those women were her responsibility. Bernadette gathered what little patience she had left. “If I don’t sell, I’ll need to split my time between Second Chance and Ketchum. I was going to do that anyway until the sale went through.” But how long could she work seven days a week? She was exhausted now.

  “That’s not good for the baby.” Holden took the last corner before entering the town proper. “When does the doctor’s offer expire?”

  “Monday at five p.m.” That didn’t seem like enough time. It was Friday.

  “Sleep on it,” Holden advised. “Sleep all weekend.”

  “I’m not going to sleep on it.” She wanted Holden to turn around so he could see her scowling at him. “Dr. Dunce! Nothing more needs to be said.” She cared too much for her patients to sell to him, even if his offer had been full price.

  “Sleep on it,” Holden said once more.

  “I’m not going to sleep a wink.” And that was enough to give her the answer she needed.

  But then, why didn’t she contact Eric to refuse the offer?

  * * *

  UPON THEIR RETURN to Second Chance, Holden and Devin checked back into the Lodgepole Inn. Shane was going to drop the boys off at the Bucking Bull Ranch and then come pick up Holden to meet with the man claiming to be a Monroe.

  “Why can’t I take the motor home back to Standing Bear?” Devin sat on the second bed in their room, not reading a textbook. His expression was grim. His cowboy hat sat on the bed next to him. “I’ll be careful. I’ll drive slow.”

  “No can do. You’re going back to Boston in the morning and getting on that regimented career track you’re always talking about.” Holden had changed into a pair of black khakis, black Italian loafers and a black button-down shirt. He fingered the black tie he intended to wear, reluctant to put it on. He stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror while unhappy elephants used his chest as a trampoline.

  This isn’t me.

  Holden swallowed, rejecting the thought. A financier’s deal-closing uniform was a suit and tie. Maybe on Fridays he could wear khakis and a button-down. He’d brought the clothes to wear to Laurel’s small-town outdoor wedding. But to strike a deal?

  Still not me.

  The unhealthy burning in his chest proved it. And yet, what could he do? He felt as trapped as Bernadette by her one unacceptable offer.

  The collar of his shirt felt too tight. A tie would just make him feel strangled. He set it aside and rummaged in his suitcase for a belt, wondering what was wrong with him.

  If faced with the same task, Bernadette wouldn’t accept it. She’d give this guy Tanner the benefit of the doubt that he was of Monroe blood, rather than paying him off with no proof.

  Thinking of Bernadette reminded him of cowboy boots and campfires and kisses.

  “I want to go back to Standing Bear.” Devin pressed his lips together as if he was having trouble keeping all his angry words inside.

  Holding feelings back was what Holden had done for years as the ice man. But now there weren’t just frustrated words tumbling about his head. There were conflicting ideals about who he was at his core and, perhaps more importantly, who he wanted to become.

  But he had no time to contemplate the future. He had a family duty to uphold.

  He cinched the belt around his waist, and it was as if everything inside of him rebelled. His chest felt squeezed. His breath came in labored gasps. The region over his heart burned angrily, and that burning climbed up his throat.

  The ice man is killing me.

  Bernadette had warned him that he had to make big changes in his life to conquer anxiety. He’d thought she’d meant get more sleep and drink less caffeine, not change who he was and what he did every day. Who was he if not an East Coast corporate wheeler-dealer?

  “Dad, are you okay?” Devin stood and came closer, peering at Holden’s face. “I’m going to get Dr. Carlisle.”

  “No.” Holden caught his son’s arm. “Give me a minute. I’ll be okay.”

  There was a knock on the door.

  “Shane,” Holden grumbled, moving to answer it.

  It was his cousin Sophie. Her shoulder-length brown hair had a natural frizz, creating a halo around her petite face and her red glasses. She carried a large box that was dirty and dusty. Some of the dust had rubbed off on her blue jeans and blouse. Not that Sophie seemed to care. Gone was the Philadelphia art curator, and in her place? She was still Sophie.

  “You look more like yourself in those clothes, Holden.” Sophie grinned as she entered the room without asking, shutting the door behind her. “Shane told me you were wearing a cowboy hat when he found you.” Shane was her brother. “It reminded me of visiting the family ranch in Texas, and then I thought of these.” She set the dilapidated box on the bed and opened it up.

  Devin peered inside. “Cowboy boots?”

  “Used cowboy boots,” Holden added to his son’s assessment, but it was edged with derision.

  “I prefer the term vintage. And I think they were Grandpa Harlan’s.” She pointed to a flap where someone had scrawled Harlan Monroe in black marker. “Roy and I found them when we were cleaning out an A-frame cabin a few weeks ago. Grandpa Harlan bought the town when it was dying and people were moving out in droves. My hypothesis is that he saw that as an opportunity to use every vacant building as a storage unit.” She began reciting a list of things she’d found in an enthusiastic voice. She operated a vintage store in town, which he supposed was like curating old things that rich people considered art.

  Holden didn’t listen too closely to her. His attention was on the box. It held three pairs of cowboy boots. In the past week, Holden had ruined two pairs of boots. He picked up a dark brown ostrich boot. It had been gently worn and properly cared for, as was his grandfather’s habit. He tossed his cowboy hat onto his pillow and sat down on the bed to try it on.

  He stood and said somewhat reverently, “It fits.”

  The pressure in his chest eased somewhat.

  Taking a deep breath, Holden sat back down and tried on its mate.

  “Looks like they were made for you.” Sophie gave a brisk nod that had her glasses sliding down her slim nose.

  I fit in my grandfather’s sh
oes.

  Harlan Monroe had been something of a Renaissance man. He’d made his first fortune in Texas in oil. He’d made other fortunes by building businesses in shipworks, luxury hotels, and entertainment via TV and film productions. He hadn’t just been a man who’d mastered negotiating a deal. He followed his diverse interests as he grew and changed. He didn’t let where he came from, where he was going or what he wore define him. Grandpa Harlan immersed himself in every new venture. And yet, he remained true to his roots in Idaho and then Texas. These boots proved it.

  “Thanks, Sophie. I need to change.” Holden hustled her out the door and then put his jeans back on, leaving his black button-down untucked. He put his grandfather’s boots back on and settled the cowboy hat on his head, drawing a deep, freeing breath. “I need to change,” he murmured.

  “You did.” Devin frowned. “About Standing Bear—”

  “We’ll talk when I get back from this meeting with Shane.” Holden opened the door.

  Shane stood on the threshold, holding a bouquet of blue and yellow wildflowers. He thrust the bouquet into Holden’s arms, and then handed him an envelope. “Bernadette wanted me to deliver this to you. She’s sweet. I knew you guys were perfect from the moment you met.”

  Holden grunted. It was either that or crumple beneath a stampeding herd of elephants, because—

  “Dad.” Devin looked worried. “Flowers and a card.”

  “I know.” His signature breakup move. Holden set the flowers on the bed and opened the card.

  “You guys are more alike than you think,” Shane was saying, leaning against the doorjamb.

  Holden, I think you know what this means. Some things aren’t meant to be. I’ll have my lawyer draw up custody papers with quarterly visitation. Be well. Love, Bernadette.

  Holden’s throat ached, along with his chest. He tucked the note in the back of his jeans pocket and strode down the hall, each step powered by the sharp pain of rejection.

  No.

  He refused to believe they couldn’t work this out.

  “Think about it,” Shane was saying, dogging his steps. “Bernadette devotes her life to helping others, which may be the reason she’s never settled down. And you... You boss around your family and go to any length to help us while keeping us all at arm’s length.”