The Cowboy's Hunt

by Jamie K. Schmidt

  “I will crash into something if you do.”

  “You could park.” She batted her eyes innocently.

  “Maybe on the way back,” he said. Definitely on the way back.

  Emily was quiet for a while before she said, “I was about Alissa’s age when I saw my dad and the farmhands slaughter a pig.”

  He winced. “Oh, honey, why weren’t you playing with your dolls or something?”

  “Because I was always playing in the dirt. Anyway, I never really liked the taste of meat anyway. Chicken was all right, until I realized I fed them every day. I never developed much of a bond with eggs, though. Still, it didn’t feel right to eat something that I was taking care of. It felt like I was the witch in Hansel and Gretel, fattening them up. Of course, our chickens were egg layers. We didn’t eat them. But it didn’t make that much difference to me.”

  “It must have been hard to convince your parents you weren’t just going through a phase.”

  “The phase has lasted nearly twenty years so far. But yeah, the cattleman’s daughter not eating beef was a big joke for a while. I still think he’s waiting for the day when I shout April Fools’ or something like that and devour a T-bone. I tricked him once, though.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me.”

  “I eat tacos and enchiladas with a ground meat substitute. With the taco seasonings and all the toppings, you’d never know it wasn’t beef.”

  “I would.”

  She shook her head in derision. “That’s what they all say. But if you weren’t specifically trying to taste the difference, you’d never know. I convinced my mother to serve him the soy crumbles instead of beef. He never knew. He even went back for seconds and thirds.”

  “What did he say when you told him about the switch?”

  “He did his usual grunt and said…” She deepened her voice and said, in a convincing impression of her father, “I’ll eat anything. Unlike some people.”

  Donovan nodded. That sounded like Frank.

  “Of course, when he tried to turn the tables, it didn’t end up so well.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He made my mother swap out my fake chicken nuggets with real ones. Or real-ish ones. I would have tasted it immediately if it had been my mother’s fried chicken. These were store-bought so it wasn’t apparent until I was puking my guts out for a few hours later that night.”

  “Ouch,” he said, wincing.

  “Yeah, it was a painful lesson for all of us. Let’s just say he never tried to pull shit like that again.”

  “Living with him must have been a challenge, but I bet you and your sisters gave him all that gray hair.”

  “I only hope so, because he deserves it.” Emily smiled to take the sting out of her voice. “You should have met him before his health problems. He could outwork the youngest ranch hand we have. And when the rodeo came around? He was like a kid again. His greatest regret was not becoming a bull rider.”

  “He’s tough enough for it.”

  “He wanted to do everything, but instead of getting good at one thing and then moving on, he signed up for all the events. He got on a bull that he wasn’t prepared for and he got hurt real bad. I think it scared him because he never let an injury stop him from doing anything else. But he made sure Kelly, Janice, and I never made the same mistakes. I was the best barrel racer out of all of them.”

  “Of course you were.”

  “Kelly was a rodeo queen.”

  “I can see that.”

  “And Janice was just horse crazy. Only she rebelled from the rodeo and turned to English dressage.”

  “Janice strikes me as a rebel.” Donovan grinned. “What about you?”

  “Me? I’m the baby.”

  “No, that’s Alissa,” he said gently.

  “Try telling that to them.”

  “They’ll see it. Whether the wind farm becomes profitable or not.”

  “What if none of this works?” Emily asked. “What if my sisters and I try everything and we still have to sell the ranch? What are my parents going to do?”

  “They’ll survive. They’ve got each other and you girls.”

  “I can’t ever bring myself to imagine it.”

  “Then don’t. You need to remain positive.”

  “I will if you will,” she said, reaching out to hold his hand.

  The trip was more pleasant with her next to him. They stopped for an early lunch, even though his stomach was in knots. But the pizza tasted better sharing it with her.

  “Last chance to hang out in the car,” he said. “I’m not even sure they’ll let both of us see him.”

  “I’m coming in with you. Even if I have to wait in the lobby.”

  “Thanks.” He kissed her sweetly on the lips, but then decided to linger because it felt so damned good.

  “I’m pretty sure they’ve got security cameras set up in the parking lot.” She giggled breathlessly.

  “Let’s get this over with so we can spend the rest of the day and night in bed.” He kissed her again until she was shivery and gasping. Yeah, definitely all night long. His ardor cooled, though, the moment they showed their identification and were patted down.

  “Wait here,” a guard said.

  Donovan led Emily to a cracked plastic chair, but he was too nervous to sit. He hadn’t allowed himself to think about this moment since that infernal text came through. Hell, he hadn’t even thought he’d ever see the old bastard again. What did you say to your own father who’d used you as a shield? Didn’t that negate the man’s right to call Donovan his son?

  As he paced around the small room, he noticed a woman with a baby and a toddler and wondered what her husband did to land him in a medium-security prison. If his mother had survived, would they have visited Charlie together? Or would they have changed their names and started up again in another state. She always said she wanted to go to Hollywood and try her hand at being an actress. Or maybe they would have gone to Vegas. Nah, too much competition.

  “Mr. Link?”

  For a second, he almost didn’t respond—he had been back to being Donny Lincoln. “Yeah,” he said. “That’s me.” It was him. Donny Lincoln didn’t exist anymore. Or maybe he only existed to one person.

  “Just you.”

  He glanced back at Emily and she nodded at him in encouragement. “I’ll be back in ten minutes,” he said. He didn’t care if they had a half hour. Charlie Lincoln didn’t deserve any more of his time.

  Donovan hated that his nerves were frayed. The guard led him to a circular table with two chairs. He had been expecting to sit across from him with solid plexiglass between them, talking on ancient phones. This was a little too real for him.

  A door opened and a guard walked out with Charlie Lincoln. Even in the orange jumpsuit, he oozed confidence and quiet charm. A few of the guards smiled and nodded at him. He wasn’t wearing ankle or wrist shackles either. Donovan watched way too much television, apparently.

  “No touching,” the guard warned when Charlie spread his hands out for a hug. He looked like a friendly grandfather figure. Donovan’s fists clenched and he had to check himself from launching a punch into his father’s smiling face.

  “Can’t I even shake my son’s hand?”

  “You know the rules,” the guard said.

  At least he didn’t have them completely wrapped around his finger. Donovan hadn’t stood up, and he stared at his father assessingly as he sat down. The guard went far enough away to give them privacy, but not too far.

  “Hoping I palmed a file and would slip it to you?” Donovan drawled.

  “After all these years, you think you could?”

  Ten-year-old Donny would have puffed up with pride and told him of course he could. “What do you want?” he asked instead.

  “I wanted to see my son. Fifteen years is a long time.”

  “About halfway through a thirty-year sentence,” Donovan said.

  Charlie leaned back in his chair and smiled
at him. “I don’t suppose you smoke?”

  “No. You started?”

  He shook his head. “No, but it’s currency.”

  “I see. And you think I owe you for getting Jules St. John to back off?”

  “A carton of cigs would go a long way to showing gratitude if I had done something like that.”

  “Any particular brand?” Donovan asked.

  “Marlborough.”

  “I’ll send it along. Are we done here?” He started to get up.

  “Not just yet.”

  Donovan decided to hear him out. It would save him having to make any follow-up trips up here.

  “Tell me about this hunting business of yours.”

  “It’s temporary.”

  “Of course it is.”

  Donovan recognized the gleam in Charlie’s eyes.

  “I want a cut of it.”

  “Go fuck yourself,” Donovan said politely.

  “I could tell your landlord all about your past. Would that sweet little thing still stand by you if she found out who you really are?”

  “She already knows.” He chuckled. “Now we’re done.” He stood up.

  “Wait. Wait. You can’t blame a guy for trying.”

  “I blame you for a lot of things. My mother’s death, most of all.”

  A spasm of something passed over Charlie’s face. Normally, Donovan would have dismissed any show of emotion as contrived, but it was gone so quickly, Donovan had to wonder. If Charlie was playing him, he would have kept the regret and grief forefront. “Sit down. Please.”

  “No more bullshit,” Donovan warned. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t leave. Maybe because there was still unfinished business between them.

  “You broke the code when you ratted me out.”

  “You broke the code when you threw me in front of a bullet. What kind of piece of shit uses his son as a shield?” Donovan didn’t mean to say that last part, because it made him vulnerable.

  But instead of verbally pressing his attack, Charlie rubbed a hand over his face. “A stupid one. If I had to live that day again, we would have never gone to Barton’s house. We would have dismantled the con and moved on. But I was so close to another million dollars, I let it blind me. And then I panicked. You never told me the son of a bitch had a gun.”

  “I never saw one. It must have been new.”

  “I thought the worst thing that could happen to me was going to jail.” He shook his head. “I was a fucking greedy idiot.”

  “You’ll get no argument from me. Why am I here? You could have asked me to send you the cigarettes in a letter.”

  Charlie leaned forward and lowered his voice to a bare whisper. Years of practice rushed back to him as he read his father’s lips. Charlie breathed, “Are you running a con at the ranch?”

  Donovan gave him a slight hand signal that they had used to mean no.

  “Do you want to?”

  Emphatic no.

  “Are you serious about that girl?”

  Donovan paused and gave another emphatic no. Whether he was or not, it was none of Charlie’s business. “I’m moving on soon. I don’t imagine we’ll ever see each other again.”

  “I’m up for parole in a few months. I’ve been a real good boy in here. I’d like to come by and visit.”

  It was his worst nightmare and he forced himself not to react. “You should go visit Margaret’s grave.”

  His father did better at hiding the reaction this time, but Donovan still caught it. Charlie was getting old. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”

  Donovan frowned. “You’ve got to work on that. I like the ring of sincerity, but put a waver in your voice to sell it.”

  “You smug little shit. I am serious.”

  “You’re sorry she died protecting me? Yeah, I kind of figured that, since you tossed me in front of the gun instead of her. I don’t think Barton would have pulled the trigger if you had, but who knows? Something to think about.” Donovan stood up for good this time and gestured to the guard that he was ready to leave.

  “Fifteen years and you think I’ve never considered it?” Charlie said to his back. “I’ll be in touch, son.”

  Not if he could help it.

  “Everything go okay?” Emily said, embracing him.

  Donovan looked back at the closing door and saw his father looking at them. Damn it. He hadn’t wanted him to see Emily. Donovan glared at him until the door shut, blocking him out. He’d have to find out when the parole hearing was and send in a statement or something. There was no way in hell he was going to stand by while his father became a free man. The reason why Charlie had such a long prison sentence was because of his corruption of a minor child and the countless federal laws he broke.

  Of course, why he hadn’t been sent to a lower security prison yet was something Donovan wondered about, but didn’t care to ask. He would have thought that a good lawyer would have gotten his father into a minimum-security prison by now. But maybe the reason Charlie was still here was…because he wanted to be. And that meant he was grifting from the inside.

  Chapter Twelve

  Emily convinced Donovan to stop at the Riverwalk before they went back because she knew neither one of them were going to feel up to cooking tonight. And they both needed coffee and a little romance to get their mind off the past few days.

  “You’re not going to make me take a boat ride, are you?” he groaned, stretching as he got out of the car.

  “Maybe.” She hugged him around the waist. “But I’d settle for a margarita the size of my head at one of those little tables by the river. We can watch the boats go by there.”

  “Sounds like a deal.”

  It felt good to walk around, after being cooped up in the car. Donovan was a good sport about window-shopping. He even bought her an Alex and Ani bracelet with an elephant charm because she squealed at how cute it was.

  “I wasn’t hinting that I wanted you to buy it for me,” she said, turning her wrist this way and that so she could admire the little charm.

  “I know. I wanted to get it for you. I like how it made you smile.”

  “You know what would really make me smile?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Instead of hunting, how about we do a safari business?”

  “Aside from the fact we live in Texas, not Africa?”

  “You could still be all go-go-he-man hunter guide, except your guests would be shooting at the elk and deer with Nikons instead of thirty-aught-sixes.”

  “And the hogs? Will they take glamour shots with them, too?” Donovan asked dryly. “What’s that phrase about putting lipstick on a pig?”

  They held hands as they walked down the stone streets. It was a beautiful night out and even though they were bickering about hunting, Emily was enjoying herself.

  “I think it would be a good idea. It’s certainly more family friendly.”

  “Run it by your father. Maybe he can buy me out and bring in a safari guide.”

  “Do you have to talk about leaving?” she asked, her mood plummeting.

  “Today you saw the very reason I have to go. At least you know what he looks like if he decides to show up. You just have to remember the key to figuring out if he’s lying to you.”

  “What’s that?”

  “His lips are moving.”

  They followed the sound of the mariachi band until they got to Rita’s on the River. They were lucky enough to get a table outside by the water.

  “We’ll start off with the chips and guacamole,” Emily ordered when the waitress plunked down their Texas-sized margaritas. “They make it right at the table and it’s so chunky.”

  “Works for me.” Donovan took a deep sip of his margarita that had a Dos Equis bottle of beer upended in it.

  “And for the entrée, vegetarian quesadillas.”

  “Same,” he said around his straw.

  When the waitress left, Emily said, “You don’t have to get a vegetarian meal just because I
am. I’m used to eating around carnivores. It doesn’t bother me.”

  “I figured a few more extra vegetables a week won’t kill me.”

  “Thank you for that,” she said. “Not everyone is as willing to try new things.” She stirred up her frozen peach margarita, fishing out the peach gummy candies to eat.

  “That’s not a real margarita,” he pointed out.

  “Says the man who has a beer in his drink.”

  “It’s hitting like a real margarita,” he said.

  “Are you going to be all right to drive back?”

  “I will be if we hang around long enough.”

  “I don’t know if I want to wait that long,” Emily said, licking the sugar off the rim of her margarita.

  “I think I saw a vacancy sign on that hotel we passed.”

  “We’re only a half hour from home,” she said. “I can drive. Or are you one of those guys who won’t let a girl drive his truck?”

  “Sweetheart, you can drive whatever you like, as long as you get us to a bed tonight.”

  “That’s a deal.” She clinked glasses with him.

  In the end, they passed on the second Texas-sized margarita and took their time eating their dinner. By the time the mariachi band played their last set, it was dark out and they were completely sober.

  “Do you want to stay for the fireworks?” he asked.

  “I’d rather go home with you and start our own,” she said.

  “Check please,” Donovan called out.

  She behaved herself on the car ride home, but she really couldn’t wait to climb all over him. Of course, her parents were on the porch as they drove by. She waved and tried not to blush like a schoolgirl when Donovan drove past the ranch house.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to drop you off?” Donovan teased.

  “Nah, although you might get a talking-to from my father tomorrow morning.”

  “If I can handle my father, yours should be a breeze.”

  “You’d think that,” Emily mused. But when she got out of the truck in front of Donovan’s hunting lodge, she felt so free. She wanted to twirl around under the star-studded sky, so she did.

  “I knew that was too much margarita for you.”

  “I feel free and I don’t know why. It must be you. You make me happy.” She held out her hand to him. “Come and dance with me.”