Reunited with the Cowboy

by Claire McEwen

  “Wha’s up?” he managed to say and glanced around at his sagging porch, surrounded by thick fog that must have blown in from the ocean last night. Understanding trickled slowly through his murky mind and Caleb shoved himself upright in the old wicker chair he’d flopped down in last night, somewhere past midnight, when he’d given up on ever falling asleep.

  He’d stumbled out here after one of his nightmares, grabbed a bottle of rye and tried not to think. Just sat here, drinking and listening to the crickets and petting Hobo, an orange cat with a tattered ear, who’d been Dad’s companion the last couple of years he’d lived out here on the ranch. Hobo had adopted Caleb now that Dad had moved away.

  He’d meant to just drink enough to help him settle, help him drift off. But there were so many ghosts around. Julie playing on the tire swing that used to hang from the old fir tree. His mom riding up on her favorite horse, a paint named Rocky Road. His dad coming in every evening, swooping his mom up in a hug and kissing her cheek. Memories of when this ranch had been full of life and laughter.

  And the memories he didn’t want. Of Mom crying for days in the kitchen after Julie died. Of Dad walking through his ranch chores like a zombie. Memories of Afghanistan and of the moment he’d seen the shadow running toward him, bulky around the middle, and he’d thought suicide bomber and fired until the shadow was still.

  Memories that had Caleb finishing off the bottle in hopes he could erase them, even for just a little while. He glared at Maya. “Why are you here?” His words came out a little more coherent this time.

  “We had a plan to meet this morning, remember? I figured I’d catch you during morning chores. You weren’t at the barn, so I came up here.” She stood, glaring at him. “I thought you were dead for a second there. What happened to you?”

  “Nothing.” He shifted in his seat and his foot made contact with something hard that slid across the porch with a hollow sound, hit the railing and bounced back.

  He and Maya both stared at the empty bottle of rye as it revolved slowly, then stopped.

  “You drank all that?” she asked quietly.

  Caleb searched his ego for a little bluster, some way to pass this off as no big deal. “Looks like.” He leaned forward, elbows to knees, head in hands. “Might not have been one of my better ideas.”

  “No.” She knelt before him, so he was forced to look up and meet her eyes, so wide and dark, so full of sadness that they condemned more than her words. “Caleb, this isn’t like you. This isn’t who you are.”

  His skull might crack open, the pounding was so bad. Her reminder of better times, when he was a better man, didn’t help. “You don’t know who I am now.”

  She flinched, then rose to her feet. “Let me get you some water.”

  Caleb held up a hand to stop her. “No. I’m fine. I’ll be fine. I’ve felt worse.” He didn’t want her to see the state of his house. A broken, run-down mess. Just like him.

  “I’m not sure that’s anything to brag about. Why did you drink so much?”

  He stared up at her, wondering how to answer that. Because I wanted oblivion seemed the most accurate response, but probably wouldn’t go over so well. “I don’t know,” he finally said. “Couldn’t sleep. It was a bad decision.”

  That’s what Adam called it, Caleb remembered, at their come-to-Jesus breakfast yesterday. “It’s horrible that your sister passed,” Adam had said, leaning into the table, all earnest like the Boy Scout he’d been. “And I’m sure you’ve got scars from your service to our country. But you’ve got to face up to those memories, deal with them and stop making these bad decisions. You’re way too old for all the drinking and fighting.”

  Caleb hadn’t appreciated the lecture. He faced the memories every day. Here on the ranch, and now with Maya. She made him think of what they’d had, of what they’d lost and how they’d lost it.

  Anyway, it was easy for Adam to say. He’d married a girl he met at community college, had two kids with her, and was raising them surrounded by his parents and more brothers and sisters than Caleb could keep track of.

  But there it was again. His self-pity. The fact that Jace and Adam could both see it was embarrassing. But Maya bearing witness to his weakness? Humiliation had him burying his face in his hands again.

  He had to salvage this situation and muster some kind of dignity. Pulling in a deep breath, Caleb put his hands to the arms of the chair and shoved himself up to a standing position. The world spun and he braced a hand against the wall of the house to steady himself.

  “Caleb, sit down.” Maya’s voice was sharp. “You’re ill.”

  He glared at her. “I’m fine. I just need a minute to get cleaned up and I’ll meet you at the barn.”

  “If you’re sure you’re—”

  “I’m fine.” He practically growled the words at her. “I just need a few minutes.”

  “Okay.” She backed away, palms up. “I can come back another day if you’d rather.”

  He’d rather she never come back at all but that wasn’t going to happen, so he might as well get this over with. Then he’d do the chores and sleep the rest of the day. “Ten minutes. By the barn.”

  She turned and jogged down the porch steps. He heard a car door slam, the engine start and the crunch of tires. He was relieved she was gone and that he had a few minutes to himself.

  How unbelievable that she’d shown up here. That she’d seen him like this. Though maybe it was good. Maybe she’d write him off as a lost cause and go focus on other ranchers. Maybe she’d leave him in peace to deal with his ranch and any predators who threatened it, as he saw fit.

  Caleb staggered inside, drank water and poured some over his head. Downed a couple of aspirin and some antacids. He should probably eat, but when he opened the refrigerator, the sight of food made him gag. Hoping his head and stomach would settle down, he changed into clean clothes and started for the barn, amazed that he was up, walking in sort of a straight line down the lane.

  He was late feeding, but the animals would just have to hang on a few minutes longer. He’d talk with Maya first. His head pounded in time with his footsteps. Maybe he should have taken her up on her offer to come another day.

  A green pickup was parked alongside the barn, and Caleb tried to steady his thoughts. He had to keep his cool with her. He’d show her the permit he’d shoved in his jacket pocket before he left the house just now. She’d lecture. He’d pretend to listen. Then she’d be gone, out of his life again. It was all pretty simple, as long as he kept his mouth shut and nodded a bunch.

  A small squeak behind him had him turning to see Hobo trotting up, his green eyes meeting Caleb’s in cat-concern. The cat trailed after Caleb most of the time. He’d even taken to riding on Caleb’s shoulder while Caleb worked around the barn. Which was kind of cute, though it had Caleb worrying that he was turning into the male equivalent of a lonely cat lady. But mostly he was just glad to have the company.

  Not too many people visited their ranch these days. The little guy probably thought he needed to protect Caleb from this intruder.

  And maybe the darn cat was right. Though, for his dignity’s sake, Caleb wasn’t sure he wanted his little buddy along with him right now. “Shoo,” he told the cat, flicking his hand back toward the house.

  Hobo stopped, one paw in the air, uncertain. Caleb kept walking, feeling oddly guilty. Hobo had sat with him and his bottle last night. He always stayed by Caleb when nightmares hit, when things got bad. But, sheesh, he was a cat. He should be able to handle a little time on his own.

  The driver’s side door of the truck opened and Maya hopped lightly down. Caleb was glad to have a moment to take her in from a distance, now that his head was clearing a little. Her fitted jeans ended in hiking boots. She wore a dark green jacket, and when she spotted him and waved, he could see the lines of her waist, the curve of her hip. Not something he should notice
or care about. He’d lost that right when he drove her out of his life. Still, he was surprised he could notice anything through his hangover haze. Maybe the aspirin was helping a little.

  Maya stopped a few paces from him and waited, the keys she twisted in her fingers betraying her emotion. “You’re looking a little better,” she said.

  “Thanks. Feeling a little better too.”

  She nodded. “Look, it’s not my business, but are you okay? You were pretty out of it.”

  “I’m fine. Just spent a little too much time with a bottle of rye, that’s all.” No way was he going to have some heavy discussion with her just because she happened to find him passed out on his porch. Getting drunk was his prerogative. He’d fought for his country—had the nightmares to prove it—and if a little alcohol helped keep them at bay, she didn’t have the right to judge. Plus he didn’t need her judgment. He was pretty sure he had enough self-loathing for both of them.

  “Where are your parents?”

  “Divorced. Gone. My mom lives in New York City. Dad left a few weeks after I got home to live with one of his sisters in San Diego.” He didn’t want to talk about that. How Mom and Dad had put Shelter Creek, this ranch and him behind them.

  He pulled the permit out of his pocket. “Here. You wanted to see this, right?”

  Nodding, she unfolded the paper and studied it. Then pulled out her phone. “Mind if I grab a photo of it?”

  He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

  She snapped the photo and handed him back the paper. “All right. This permit looks good.”

  The sun was pushing tentative rays through the fog, casting her skin in gold, illuminating the freckles it had scattered across her cheeks. It caught the interest of his tired mind, lured it away from the topic at hand.

  How could the years have changed her so little? Time had left only light tracks. A few lines around her eyes, a lean, strong look to her, and a way of moving that made him think she could easily out-hike, outrun and maybe even out-lift most people. He’d been a Marine, and he still kept in shape, but she had a feral strength that spoke of a life spent in constant motion.

  But despite these subtle changes, she was still Maya. Long brown straight hair pulled into a ponytail beneath her baseball cap. Brown eyes that had always reminded him of the color of the bark on the redwood trees that covered the hills just a little inland from Shelter Creek.

  He shouldn’t pay such close attention. Shouldn’t look at her at all. Because memories were rushing in so rapidly, so vividly, he was surprised she couldn’t see them too, crashing against him in waves of color and feeling.

  There was the first time he’d realized that they were more than just childhood friends. She’d hurt her hand while they were trying to finish a science project in seventh grade, and he’d grabbed it to stop the bleeding. And realized he never wanted to let go.

  They had their first date at the school Christmas dance. He’d bought her a gardenia corsage and she’d giggled at his awkward moves on the dance floor.

  His throat felt thick and he cleared it, hating the magnetic pull of the past that had him gripping a bottle of whiskey most nights, in a desperate attempt to stay anchored in the present.

  “So, you’ve seen the permit. Can I hunt my lion now?” His tone was curt, rude, but he wanted her gone—her and the memories she brought. Memories that made him want that innocent time more than he wanted a drink even. More than he’d wanted anything in a long time.

  A shadow of something flickered across her eyes and was gone. If he’d struck a blow, she wasn’t going to let it slow her down. Instead she turned smooth and professional. “You don’t even know what lion you’re hunting, I suspect. I saw a few different sets of prints out on the trail the other day. There are at least three mountain lions living around here. We have no way of knowing if any of them killed your sheep.”

  That stopped him. He’d assumed that whatever mountain lion had gone after his sheep would be the one he met up with when he went hunting. Though, now that he thought about it, that was a pretty lame assumption. “You’re saying that if I’d found a lion that night, I might have shot the wrong one?”

  “It’s very possible. Your lion could be long gone by now, especially if it was young and in the territory of another male.”

  It was sobering. Caleb wasn’t a sport hunter. He didn’t enjoy killing wildlife just for the sake of it. “So, what do I do now?”

  “You work with me. Let me help you make some changes that will deter lions in the future.”

  “Why don’t you just tell me what to do? Don’t you have some literature or something you can give me?” He didn’t want to spend more time with her. Didn’t want to see the way the growing sunlight lit up strands of gold in her hair. Didn’t want to think about how no other woman had caught his attention for long, since her.

  Except part of him, that boy he’d been when he’d loved her, did want her here. It was ridiculous. Some ancient fantasy of happily-ever-after that his brain was revisiting.

  “I have literature, yes. And I’ll leave you with some. But the best way I can help you is if we walk around your ranch together and talk about what you can do to prevent any further attacks.”

  As if on cue, Hobo leaped onto Caleb’s shoulder, startling him so badly that he jumped a couple of feet to the right. “Jeez, Hobo!”

  Maya burst out laughing, the sound ringing like a pretty bell in the quiet. “Wow! That is one agile cat!”

  This was great. More indignity to add to the morning. Caleb’s face warmed and he resisted the urge to bat the cat off. But it wasn’t Hobo’s fault that Caleb was an idiot who’d passed out on his porch last night. Or that Maya had found him there.

  Plus Hobo was stubborn. He’d probably just jump right back on anyway. Best to play it cool. “Yeah. This is Hobo. He likes to hang out with me when I’m working.”

  “I see.” Maya’s lips quivered as if she wanted to laugh again, and Caleb got it. He must look quite the fool. The big, hungover, grumpy dude with a small orange cat along for the ride.

  Hobo stuck his head under the brim of Caleb’s hat and shoved, knocking it askew.

  “Hey!” Caleb set his hat to rights and moved Hobo off his shoulder, tucking him under his arm instead. Darn cat. Except he was pretty cute, the way he was snuggling up into Caleb’s chest. It was hard to stay mad. Which was strange because Caleb was pretty sure that mad was the main emotion he’d felt ever since he’d come back to Shelter Creek.

  “So, why don’t we take a look around the property?” Maya glanced around. “Do you still have cattle too?”

  “Just a starter herd of Angus.” Starter herd. He almost laughed at the ridiculous term he’d pulled out of the blue, in some stupid attempt to impress her, or at least make his situation a little less pathetic.

  When he’d left the Marines, he’d had big plans for running cattle, until he’d gotten home and seen the state of the ranch and found out about the unpaid taxes. Because of that, all he’d been able to afford were a half dozen Angus. It was kind of silly to buy any at all, but he wanted them here to remind himself of what he was working toward. To help him feel like he was on his way to the ranch of his dreams. Even if it was just a few cattle, it was something.

  “How many sheep? Any other livestock?”

  And so it began. The revelation of just how far down in the world the Bar D Ranch had fallen. Caleb tried to deliver the news as if he didn’t care. “About thirty sheep. Two horses.”

  Her eyes went wide. He didn’t blame her. It was so far from what his family used to own.

  “Okay... Well, with such small numbers, it should be pretty easy to protect them. It could actually be a good thing because you can test out some different methods before you increase your herd size.” She glanced at him, a wealth of questions in her eyes. “Assuming you are going to increase your herd size?”

/>   “Eventually. Yeah.” Caleb led the way down the rutted dirt lane, trying to ignore the way the old barn seemed to lean a little harder toward the left now that Maya was looking at it.

  Maya fell into step beside him. Gosh, she was tiny, just coming up to his bicep. He’d forgotten how small she was.

  He couldn’t miss her stricken gaze as she took in the ruin of his ranch. Back in high school, the Bar D had been the biggest operation around, with a few hundred sheep and almost as many cattle. Shame flared itchy beneath his skin. But it shouldn’t. He hadn’t run this place down. That was Dad’s fault. Or Dad’s depression’s fault. His old man had never been able to recover from losing Julie.

  Maya started talking, oblivious to his dark thoughts. “With your permission, I’d like to set up some motion-sensitive cameras around the property so we can see what kind of critters you’re getting around here at night. Coyotes are a big issue around here, as well as mountain lions.”

  “Cameras.” He liked the idea of knowing what kinds of predators were showing up. But cameras would cost money he didn’t have. And even if she paid for them, that meant she’d be here, checking on them. And he’d have to see her. He didn’t want to see her. Not when she brought so much emotion along with her. “We’ll see,” he grunted.

  “It’s up to you.” She gave him a neutral, professional smile.

  She was a good actress. Better than him. For so many years, she’d haunted him. Her voice. Her laugh. Her touch. And all the horror and loss of the accident that had broken them apart. And now she was here and he was supposed to act like it was no big deal. Apparently she could do it. Him, not so much. He’d keep this tour short.

  Caleb turned onto a narrow trail that took them away from the barn. He didn’t want her seeing it up close, with its broken boards, missing doors, the rotting roof and the corral fences he’d patched together with whatever he could find lying around.

  Hobo wriggled out of his arms to sit on his shoulder again and Caleb sighed. He’d just have to resign himself to looking like a fool in front of Maya long-term.