A Cowboy for Keeps

by Laura Drake

  While he’s extricating himself, I step over to inspect the new barbed-wire fencing with super-sturdy posts. It looks top-notch. I wondered about hiring local, but the guy Manny and Moss recommended did a good job.

  I look to the house, feeling a small pull in my chest that’s Sawyer. I smile and turn back to the architect. We walk to a slight rise, about fifty yards from the fence line. “What do you think?”

  “Well, it depends on the availability of water, of course, but the drainage looks good. You’ll want the house to face north/south, to avoid the exposure to the most intense rays of the sunrise and sunset.” He walks ten feet away. “The front door would face that way. Would that be a problem?”

  I’d be looking right at Lorelei’s house, into what I assume is her second-story bedroom window. There’s a warm spot in my chest, imagining seeing her light on at night. Knowing she’s safe and close would suit me down to the ground. The warm spot shifts lower. Much lower. “No, um. That’s fine.” The lawn has grown since I was last here. I didn’t check in with Lorelei about visiting, but now that I’m this close, I realize I can’t leave without at least seeing Sawyer. “I’ve got something to do. Will you be okay if I leave you for a half hour or so?”

  He unzips a leather portfolio he brought with him. “No problem at all.”

  I jog for the fence, then realize the gate is at the end of my property, a quarter mile away. I’ll have the contractor come back and put one in at this end. I duck between the strands of wire, then jog for the house. I hope Mary is having a good day.

  I wonder if Sawyer will remember me. A silly hope. The books I’ve read say that babies don’t recognize anyone except their caregivers until around nine months old. I rap on the wood of the screen door. Swing music floats to me from inside. “Anybody home?”

  “Is that Reese?” Sarah’s head appears around the kitchen doorway. “Laws, it is. Get yourself in here.” She turns back to the living room. “Hey, Mary, we have company.”

  It’s as if time stops in this house. Somewhere around 1970.

  “Hello, Reese. So nice of you to come see us.” Mary is sitting on the couch, watching a black-and-white movie on the old TV set. Her eyes are bright and aware.

  A good day, then. “Hello, Mary. You’re looking exceptionally pretty today.”

  She smiles and pats her hair.

  “Here’s one of the people you came to see.” Sarah carries Sawyer in.

  She reaches for me. “Bababababa.”

  “Yep, it’s Baba, come to see you.” I gather her up, and she clings to my neck. I stand and bury my nose in the hollow of her shoulder and inhale her sweet baby scent, her warm little body lying trusting in my arms. A rush of love hits me so hard, I have to blink it back. “God, I’ve missed you, little one.”

  I sit and play with Sawyer and talk to the women for a half hour. I’d love to stay longer, but I have to go. “I’ll be back…I’m not sure when, but soon.” I stroke the top of Sawyer’s head.

  “Babababa.” She reaches for me again.

  “You know,” Sarah says, “we just finished our last jigsaw puzzle, and we’re left with nothing to do this afternoon. Do you think you could be a dear and make a quick run to town and get us a new one? I think the Five & Dime has one of a field of tulips.”

  Mary claps her hands. “I love tulips.”

  “I flew in. I think the police would take a dim view of me trying to land in the town square.”

  “You can take my car.” Sarah keeps a straight face, but there’s a telltale sparkle in her eye. “And while you’re down there, could you ask Lorelei to stop by O’Grady’s and pick up some French rolls for dinner? I’d so appreciate it.”

  Though I can’t deny the thrill that shoots down my nerves at the chance to see Lorelei, I lift an eyebrow. “Oh, left your cell at home, did you?”

  Her eyes go round with innocence. “Now, how did you know that?” She roots in her purse at the end of the couch and holds up her keys.

  I walk over and plant a kiss on her cheek. “I’ll be back before you know I’m gone.”

  “Don’t rush on our account,” Mary calls after me.

  I jog out the back door, scuttle through the back fence, and find Dan pounding stakes. “I’ve got to run to town for the ladies here. Are you okay for another twenty or so?”

  “There’s plenty of paperwork to keep me busy after this. I’ll just sit in the plane.”

  “Okay. I’ll bring you back some of the best fry bread you ever ate.”

  “I’m sure that’s true, since I’ve never eaten any.”

  I grab the plans from Dan, then hightail it to town, pushing the old boat of a Chevy’s speedometer into the red. I’m lucky and nab a parking space right out front. I tuck the renderings under my arm and remind myself to stop at the Five & Dime, in case Sarah really does want a puzzle, then head into the Chestnut Creek Café. A frizz of anticipation I don’t want to examine runs along my nerves.

  The bell jangles against the door, and the smell of bacon on cool air washes over me. Many booths are filled, but the lunch rush hasn’t yet begun. I check the counter, but apparently Manny and Moss are off…doing whatever they do when they’re not here. The young waitress is working, and through the serving window, I see the cook, Nevada. Today’s shirt reads I’d say I’d love to stay and chat, but I’d be lying.

  What I don’t see is Lorelei.

  * * *

  Lorelei

  Sassy raps on the doorframe of my office. She’s standing with Reese, who’s wearing a goofy smile and carrying a rolled paper under his arm.

  I jolt out of my chair like I sat on a hat pin. My hand goes to my messy ponytail. “What are you doing here?” I glance around the room, seeing the disaster area through his eyes.

  “I figured it’d be okay to bring him back, you being related and all.” Sassy’s sugar-sweet smile doesn’t fool me. She’s enjoying my nerves.

  “It’s fine.” It’s not, but what am I going to do, throw him out? “Come on in.” I pull catalogs and flyers from the guest chair, drop them in a corner, then wave him to sit. To his credit, he doesn’t run his hand over the seat before he slides his light-khaki chinos into it. “What’s going on?”

  “I probably should have called…or texted, but I didn’t think I’d get to see you, or Sawyer for that matter, when I flew in.”

  “You flew in?” I’m surprised, but I shouldn’t be. I’m sure a plane is well within his means. If he were an animal, he’d be one of his bulls, running all over what was our land to get what he wants. And remember, Lorelei, in spite of your butterflies, he’s here for Sawyer, not you.

  “Yeah. Like I said, I should have called.”

  I’d like to reprimand him, but I’d sound petty. Besides, he has such a delighted little-boy smile on his face, I’m curious. “What’s with the papers?”

  “That’s what I wanted to show you.” He hops up and steps next to me. “Okay to put these on your desk?”

  “If you can find room.” I’ll be darned if I’m going to apologize for my messy office when he wasn’t invited to begin with.

  He leans over my shoulder, pushes my monitor back, and lays his cylinder of papers on the desk over my piles of invoices, sale flyers, and order forms. His cologne has to be ungodly expensive, because it mainlines a pheromone bouquet to my brain and loosens the inner muscles of my thighs.

  “I wanted to show you these.” He unrolls a pastel rendering of a two-story wood cabin with dormer windows and wide steps up to a deep porch.

  “You’re building a cabin.” My stomach jumps like a bobber with a fish nibbling. “On our old land.”

  “Yep.” He pulls off the first sheet, to show the rear view. Rock columns hold a huge curved support beam above huge windows. A stone patio sports a cozy firepit, with Adirondack chairs around it.

  It’s so unfair. The fact that he doesn’t even notice my sarcasm lights a long-dead fire in my chest. I raise my chin and put a hand on my hip so even a big oilman can’t mi
ss the signal. “On the land you bought behind my house. My family’s land, in the old days.”

  He keeps his gaze on the paper, but his smile goes tight. His head comes up. The look in his eyes reminds me of a stray, fearing a kick.

  I realize that I’m behaving like one of those mean girls, pushing the knife in every chance I get. “Okay, I’m not using the ‘s’ word again. I’ve said it too much. Instead, I’m going to try awful hard not to do anything I need to be sorry for. Deal?” I hold out my hand.

  He shakes it, a half smile pulling the corner of his lips. “I’d like that a lot. I promise to do the same.”

  But he’s never said a mean thing to me on purpose. Well, except that lie about being a cowboy, and his hidden motives. Be careful of good-looking charmers. It’s a warning I ignored once but won’t, ever again.

  We realize at the same time that we’re shaking hands too long and we both pull back. I look to the plans again, my heart throwing panicky beats. “Where on your land are you going to build it?”

  “About fifty yards from the fence line, if that’s okay with you.”

  “It’s your land. I hardly think my opinion would stop you from doing you what want.” I shrug, and something occurs to me. “Hey, how did you get to town. You flew in, so—”

  “Sarah asked me to get her and Mary a puzzle, at the Five & Dime. She loaned me her car.”

  “Oh. I see.” I try to keep my voice nonchalant. Sarah and I need to have a talk. She could have at least called to warn me.

  “And you’re supposed to stop at O’Grady’s on your way home and pick up some French rolls for dinner.”

  I raise one eyebrow, trying to stay serious. “A critical message indeed.”

  He has a positively dazzling smile. Between that and the cologne, I’ll bet the women melt to a puddle around him. Women who aren’t me, anyway.

  “She said she left her phone at home.”

  “Oh. That reminds me. Hang on.” I step out of my office and walk to the back door. Trying to ignore Nevada’s raised brows, I snatch Reese’s coat from the rack on the wall.

  When I walk back in, he’s studying the plaques on my wall. Blood pounds up my neck and my cheeks throb. I hand him his jacket. “Almost forgot.”

  He turns and tips his head toward the wall. “You’re a ballroom dancer?”

  I tuck hair behind my ear. “Oh, it’s nothing, just a small town—”

  “An invitation to America’s Ballroom Challenge is hardly small-town. How did you do?”

  My eyes on the floor, I squeeze past him. “I didn’t go.”

  “Why not?”

  “Let’s just say my dance partner let me down.” An understatement, but I’m not going into the mortifying details.

  He touches my forearm. “How awful for you. I’m sorry.”

  His voice is butter on an old burn that shouldn’t sting after all this time. I step back. I barely survived the last good-looking charmer. I’m not leaving myself open to another.

  Why am I mooning about old memories all of a sudden? “I have to get back to work. We’re coming on the rush hour, and Sassy is going to need help.”

  “Sure, I’ll let you go. I have to get back too. I shouldn’t have come, but with such a critical mission…” He trails off.

  I swear, he’s looking at my lips. The walls have moved in, and the AC must be overloaded again, because it’s gotten hot in here.

  “Well…” He rolls up his plans. “I’ll probably be around more often soon. You know, overseeing the construction and all.”

  “And running critical errands?”

  “Oh, speaking of that.” He taps the end of the tube to straighten it. “I’m going to need to buy some wheels. Can you tell me where I can buy a decent truck around here? It doesn’t have to be new, or fancy.”

  “The only place short of Albuquerque is Floyd’s Super Clean.”

  “The name is Floyd’s Super Clean? Really?”

  “Floyd’s Super Clean Used Cars. And when he sees you coming, he’s going to bore you a new…I mean, he’s going to—”

  He laughs. “I like it when you blush. Yeah, I get it. Will you go with me, to make sure he doesn’t take advantage of me?”

  “No” moves from my brain to my mouth.

  “Please?”

  He looks concerned. And sincere. Until I remember. “Yeah, because the out-of-towner surcharge is really going to hurt you.”

  “It’s the principle of the thing. Say you’ll go?”

  I find I want to. But this encounter is proof that I’m not immune to him. And that’s not good. I can’t afford to be caught dreaming again. I have Sawyer to think about. “Text me when you’re coming in next time, and I’ll see if I can get away. That’s the best I can do.”

  He bows a bit at the waist, which brings his face way too close. He freezes, his eyes warm on mine. A lightning flash of want crosses his face, but he straightens. “Thank you.” He turns and walks out.

  It’s only then that I can get a deep breath again. Then I realize that I just almost-kinda-agreed to go somewhere with him. And would have let him kiss me, if…Damned cologne.

  But I find myself smiling the rest of the afternoon, and that can’t be from cologne. Okay, he’s sexy, and I’m coming to realize I miss…companionship. That’s all it is. Besides, the female he’s really interested in isn’t out of diapers yet. I’d best remember that.

  Chapter 9

  Reese

  Mr. St. James, I have Mr. James Travis on the line. Could you hold a moment?”

  “Sure.” Another reason my attorney irritates me. He can’t pick up the phone and make a call himself? And his name. Always James—not Jim, not Jimmy or Jimbo. Puffed-up rooster. I rein in Brandy and look over the small herd the cowboys are collecting, down in the draw.

  “Reese! How’s it hangin’, son?”

  I always wonder what he’s referring to when he says that, but I’m not calling him on it. “Do you have anything on those new mineral lease negotiations?”

  “You always were the serious one. It’s all business with you.”

  No, I just don’t like you. “No time for idle chat. I’ve got sick heifers.”

  “They’re bitches when they’re sick, aren’t they?”

  I pull the phone away from his booming, Texas-size laugh and try not to grit my teeth. If I didn’t need him…“The leases?”

  “Nah, son, still working on those. What I called about is the New Mexico custody law. It looks like—”

  “I want you to drop that.”

  “What?” He says it like I told him I voted Democrat.

  “I’m not pursuing custody. It’d be useless, in any case. Lorelei West is an exemplary mother.”

  “Carson’s blood is worth twice any buckle bunny’s. Do I need to remind you that this is the last of the St. James line, boy? Bo would—”

  “I hardly need reminding of my own family tree, and Bo isn’t here. This is my decision.” Catching my anger, Brandy dances under me.

  “Well, if you say so, but if Bo knew about this, he’d—”

  “You might want to take a look at who’s signing your checks. I own Katy Cattle now, Jim, and I’m telling you to drop it. Is there anything else?”

  “That’s it…for now.” His words are everyday, but his tone holds the whiff of a threat.

  Or maybe I’m reading too much into it, because I don’t like him. I click End and shove the phone in my breast pocket. One thing I know; he’ll follow orders. He wouldn’t have worked for Bo for more than two minutes if he didn’t.

  I don’t have time to worry about him. I’ve got cattle to cull.

  It’s a normal day, filled with problems and eventual solutions. But it’s also laced with threads of loneliness that are new. After dinner, I’m working at my desk when I glance to the shelf above to the three proud wooden ponies, frozen midprance. Mine, Carson’s, and Lorelei’s.

  When the echo of lonesome in my chest expands, I pull out my phone and text Lorelei: />
  Looking at my painted ponies and wishing I could have met your father.

  Two minutes later, my phone dings.

  L: He was a good carver and an even better man.

  R: How’s Sawyer?

  L: Amazing. She’s playing peekaboo and sitting up all by herself!

  R: Superkid, that’s for sure. I miss her. Listen, I’m about caught up here and thinking about flying out sometime this week. What day do you think you can get away for an hour or two to help me buy a car?

  Nothing, for five minutes.

  L: Any day is as busy as the next. You pick, and I’ll just take a lunch hour for a change. Shouldn’t take long.

  R: How about tomorrow? Can you meet me at the house? The logistics of borrowing Sarah’s car will get complicated—two people, three cars.

  L: Okay, say ten? It’s quietest then. Hey, I saw them breaking ground over there.

  R: I’m looking forward to being nearby. You know, to see Sawyer. Maybe I can babysit sometime?

  L: Mrs. Wheelwright has it under control.

  R: Yeah, but I’m just saying.

  L: Gotta go. This is the only time I get to carve.

  R: Make it pretty. Good night, Lorelei.

  L: Night.

  * * *

  Lorelei

  Ten minutes later, I put down my microtool. I’m twitchy, and if I try finishing tonight, I’m going to ruin the mustang I’m working on. I stand and walk down the stairs, to Sawyer’s room.

  She’s awake and quiet, but her arms are flailing.

  It’s amazing how I’ve slipped so easily into a role I thought had passed me by. I remember in high school, lying in bed at night, wishing on stars. I wished for a husband and at least four babies, and…And now it’s taken a tragic miracle to make me a mother. God sure does work in mysterious ways.

  “Whatsamatter, baby girl? You antsy tonight, too?” I lift her out of the crib. She’s getting heavy. Her diaper is dry. “Do you want some warm milk?”

  “Mammmmmm ma.”