A Cowboy for Keeps

by Laura Drake

  Her eyes light. “What’d he say?”

  “Don’t know. Don’t care. I turned off my phone.”

  “Well, why didn’t you tell me?” She holds out her hand. “You hand it over and start on the cake.”

  “No. You’ll just take his side.”

  She raises an eyebrow and bounces her hand.

  “Fine.” I pull my phone from my shirt pocket and slap it in her hand like an operating-room nurse.

  She wipes her hands on her jeans and hits buttons.

  I take my first bite of the mega-size slice of cake and moan. “You need the passcode.”

  She doesn’t look up. “Duh, it’s Sawyer.”

  Great. Now I’m a transparent fool.

  She reads, and her eyebrows tent in that awwwww expression that’s usually reserved for puppies and babies.

  I hold up a hand. “Don’t.”

  “Lorelei, he apologizes for screwing up, and—”

  “I’m sure he did.” I drop the fork. “What the heck would he do if he wants custody of Sawyer and can’t get her any other way? He’d suck up, that’s what.”

  “Remember when it was me and Austin fighting and you tried to talk sense into me?”

  “I can hardly forget, since your daughter was a result of that mess.”

  She nods. “You are being as blind as I was, seeing the hurt and not beyond it—to the idiot’s intent.”

  Bitter surges from my throat to fill my mouth, overpowering the taste of sugar and cocoa. “Well, I don’t have to worry about making the same mistake, since I’m too old for babies.” I bury my face in my hands, and the bitterness reroutes its path to my eyes.

  Carly hugs me and lets me cry.

  “I’m not crying over him, you know.” I sniff.

  “I know, hon.” She pats my back. “I know.”

  * * *

  Reese

  “Yes, it’s true. Your Baba is an idiot.” The small, cheap contraption Sarah called an “umbrella stroller” clatters across the pavement in front of the house. It’s just too pretty this morning to be stuck inside. And besides, today the ladies don’t seem to know how to act around me. I shudder, imagining what Lorelei told them. Did I really suggest a merger?

  “No-no-no-no.” Sawyer babbles her newest and favorite word.

  I shake my head. “I know you find it hard to believe, but you need to trust me on this. I could mess up God’s plan given enough time.”

  I need to fly out this morning, but I’m delaying leaving. Partly because I want to spend more time with Peanut, but also because it feels like running. I might not be the favorite son, but Bo didn’t raise any sons who run.

  I’m a logical businessman, and yet my personal life is starting to sound like a Dr. Phil episode. I went from deciding to leave Lorelei be at the fireworks to kissing her an hour later. But there was no denying it. I was kidding myself, thinking I could fly close to her light and not get singed. And staying away means no Sawyer.

  An impossible situation.

  “Buh-buh-buh.” Sawyer points at a bird flying overhead.

  I drop to a crouch beside the stroller. “Bird. That’s a birrrrd.”

  “Buh-buh-bud.”

  “Yeah, close enough.” I stand and push. “I know I said it wrong. I know that, okay?” Why didn’t I tell her what matters most? That I’m all in. For the long haul, in. I want her, not whatever crap I said last night. So why didn’t I say it?

  My stomach falls. What would Lorelei get? Besides money. I knew she didn’t give a crap about that, so why did I throw it in? Because when you don’t think you have much to offer, that’s what you do. “I mean, when I get past what was given to me, what do I have to offer? Me, personally?”

  Sawyer lifts her arms to me.

  “Yeah, I know you think I’m all that, but your standards are a bit lower than your momma’s.” I lift her to straddle my hip and drag the stupid stroller behind us. “I can dance. But she’s lived without that for years. Let’s face it. She told me last night that she was comfortable with me as her little brother.” I wince. “But she did kiss me back. I didn’t imagine that.” I drop a kiss on Sawyer’s head. “That was before I screwed up. Royally. I made her feel like I was using her to get something else I wanted. I know how bad that feels.”

  Sawyer points at something in my field.

  “Cow. That’s a cow.”

  “Cuh-cuh-cuh.”

  “Near enough.” I walk on, dragging the clattering contraption. Lorelei isn’t a woman you love and leave. I knew that. I remember the warmth between us. The understanding that pulled us together like two halves of a whole. “I need to fix this. She needs to know I want her for herself. Not for you, or her family, or anything else.”

  Sawyer puts her hands up to pat my cheek.

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence, kid. Now I just have to figure out how.”

  When we get back to the house, I fix lunch for the ladies. Nothing big, just sandwiches for the grown-ups and mashed-up carrots and bananas for Sawyer. “She’s changing every day. I hate to leave.”

  Mary smiles at her granddaughter. “We’ll turn around and she’ll be in school.”

  School. The sandwich flips in my stomach. “Where will she go to school?”

  Sarah moves the sippy cup onto the high chair’s tray. “John Denver Elementary, in town.”

  “What? The singer?”

  Mary nods. “His name is tied to Colorado, but he was raised in Roswell.”

  “Wow, who knew.”

  “We did,” Sarah and Mary chorus.

  “What’s the school like?”

  “Oh, it’s the oldest school in the district. In fact, the building was one of the first brick buildings in Unforgiven.”

  “Older than the high school?”

  “By about thirty years.”

  And I thought the high school was worn down. “Are there any private schools in Unforgiven?”

  “If you’re Catholic, there’s St. Bart’s,” Sarah says.

  “We’re Baptist,” Mary says.

  If Sawyer were with me, I could arrange private tutoring. But that’s sure not happening, and no way Lorelei would take money from me for it. So maybe I can help the school here. After all, we’ve got four years before Peanut goes to kindergarten. “Sarah, do you know who the head of the school board is?”

  “Know him? I’m practically related to him. He was my son’s best friend, growing up.”

  “Could I get his number from you?”

  She tips her head and gives me a knowing smile. “You’re a good man, Reese St. James. I don’t care what Lorelei says.”

  I duck my head. “That means more to me than you know. Thank you.” I swipe my mouth with a paper towel posing as a napkin. “Well, I’d better git. I’ve got to be home before dark.”

  Sarah eyes me. “Mind if I walk you out?”

  “Sure thing.” I don’t know what’s on her mind, but I’d bet my prize bull that it’s about Lorelei.

  “I’ll just be on the porch, Mary. Okay?”

  “You run on. I’ll just do up these few dishes.”

  I hold the screen door for Sarah.

  “You’re going at this all backward, you know.”

  I step off the cement slab, into the gravel. “I beg your pardon?”

  “You can’t get where you want to be, from here.” She crosses her arms.

  “I’m afraid you’ve lost me, Sarah.”

  “You know, that does not surprise me.” She narrows her eyes. “You really are clueless about women, aren’t you?”

  “I am not conversant in woman-speak, if that’s what you mean. You’re going to have to explain it like you would to Sawyer.”

  “No, she’s a female.” She raises an eyebrow. “She’d get it by now.”

  “Are you angry with me, Sarah?”

  She tosses her hands in the air. “You got it in three. I’ve known less astute men, but none of them are married, either.”

  I scratch my head and wait.<
br />
  “You’ve bungled this so badly.”

  “Even I figured that out. What I’m hoping you can help me with is, how do I put it right.”

  “Finally, you’re asking the right question.” She taps her first two fingers to her head. “Typical man, you’re thinking with this.”

  I know only one other thing that men think with, but I’m sure not bringing that up with a woman old enough to be my mother.

  She taps her fingers to her chest. “To communicate with a woman, you need to be thinking with this.”

  I cock my head. “Hearts don’t think.”

  She rolls her eyes heavenward. “And men think they’re the superior beings. Lord, the world sure would be different if you put us in charge.” Her gaze drops to me. “Well, if you want a chance, you’d better figure it out.” She turns, opens the door, and it slaps behind her. The heavy wooden door closes quietly in my face.

  I’m glad the flight home will take four hours—it’ll give me time to think. I may even hear what my heart has to say. If I’m going to ascend Mount Lorelei, I need a plan, and if it’s a good one, I don’t care if I have to pull it from my butt. One thing the last twenty-four hours has solidified—last night’s kiss crisped any thought of retreat for me. If I’m going down, I’m going down in a blaze of glory. I’ve found a woman who is worth it.

  I’m just past Las Cruces when my phone buzzes. I hit hands-free.

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

  “Sure.” My fingers tighten on the yoke, and I force them to relax. I need this guy.

  “Reese, you young steer, how you doin’, son?”

  Don’t think I didn’t notice the castration dig. “What do you need, Jimbo?” I know it’s petty to slaughter his name, but I can’t resist. If you can’t take it, you shouldn’t dish it.

  “Just getting back to you on the division orders on the latest oil wells. You’ll have a copy in your in-box in an hour.”

  “Good.”

  “And I’m sending a second attachment. I didn’t charge you; it’s a gift, in honor of Bo and Carson.”

  “What is it?”

  “You’ll see. Let me know what you think.”

  I click to end the call. What the hell is he up to now?

  * * *

  Lorelei

  “Hey, Lorelei.” Nevada stands in the doorway of my spotless office, holding out a cell phone. “It’s Fish.”

  “Why wouldn’t he call my—”

  “Duh.”

  Crap. I turned my cell off after Carly read Reese’s text. I raise Nevada’s phone to my ear. “Hey, Fish. What’s happening?”

  “I am. And you will agree, when I tell you what I have.”

  He sounds proud of himself. What does it say about me that his tone puts me on guard? “What do you have?”

  “I have the materials to rebuild your roof. Free. Of. Charge.”

  “You take those back wherever you stole them from. I will not be responsible for you going to jail. Do you know what Nevada would do to me?”

  “Didn’t steal them. They’re not new, but they’re in good shape. See, the council got funding to build a new tribal building on the rez. I helped tear down the old one last weekend and called dibs on the roofing materials.”

  The tightness in my chest loosens just a bit. “Oh, Fish. You are my very own angel.”

  “Tell Nevada that, will you? She’s mad at me for buying her a turquoise and silver necklace instead of the new goats she wanted.”

  “Ah. You should have known.”

  “Probably. Anyway, I’ve got to finish fertilizing and chopping weeds out here, but I should be able to get started in three weeks. In the meantime, I’ll have the materials delivered to your house. That sound okay?”

  “I’ll take you anytime I can get you.”

  “Don’t tell Nevada that, okay?”

  “Whatever you say, Fish. And thank you.” I hang up, imagining the heaven of not having to go on bucket patrol upstairs every time it rains.

  Chapter 14

  Reese

  The next morning, I open the email from the attorney and scan the division orders. Travis made a great deal here. He is a good business attorney, but I really need to find one I can stand. It’ll be the first order of business once we get the calves to market in August.

  I file the division orders, then open the “surprise” attachment. It’s a surprise all right. A motion to the New Mexico courts to modify a child custody decree. Lorelei’s decree.

  My conciliatory mood crisps in a blowtorch blast of anger. Bullshit. Travis is just like Bo, always pushing and manipulating to get his way. I snatch my phone and hit speed dial. When his secretary puts me through, I jump in before he can speak. “I told you, Travis. I have zero interest in pursuing custody of my niece. Why did you go against my express order?”

  “Oh, come on, loosen your tighty-whities, son.”

  I hear the scree of my teeth grinding. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “Don’t worry. I didn’t charge you for it. I did it for Bo.”

  “Jim. He’s dead. You don’t work for him any longer, and frankly, I don’t think you should be working for me, either.” I put all the barbed wire I’ve got into my tone. I hope it makes him bleed.

  “Relax, Reese. Think of it as reference material. You may want it someday.”

  “I won’t.” The words come out skinny from squeezing out between my clenched teeth.

  “You were interested enough to have me look into custody to begin with. What changed your mind? Wait, you don’t have a thing for this woman, do you?”

  He’s gone too far now. “That is none of your damned business.”

  “Well, hell, son, why don’t you just marry her? That’d solve all your problems, wouldn’t it?”

  Hearing what was basically my logic the other night from his mouth makes me want to go take a shower. That must be how I made Lorelei feel. The only difference is that he sees nothing wrong with what he’s saying. “I’m trashing this file and ordering you to do the same. Do you hear me?”

  “Kinda hard not to, son.”

  “And since we already established that my father is dead, I think we can both agree that I am not your son.” I click End, and when I will my clenched fingers open, the phone clatters to the desk. That clinched it. Finding a new attorney just moved up on the priority list.

  But right now I need to fix the only part I have control of—me.

  * * *

  Lorelei

  Sunday morning, Momma and Sawyer are both napping and I’m washing breakfast dishes when a delivery truck pulls up in the drive. I step out of the screen door, wiping my hands on a dish towel. “I didn’t order anything, Norm.”

  “Well, you got something, nonetheless.” He hands me a box.

  I sign for it and take it inside, setting it on the kitchen table. The return address isn’t familiar. I use a knife to slit the tape. There’s a note on top of a stack of folded clothes. The blouse weakens my knees, and I collapse in the chair, hauling in breaths. My questing fingers find the note:

  Dear Wests,

  I’m Sybil, a friend of Patsy’s. I was babysitting Sawyer the night of the accident. I’m so sorry this is getting to you so late. I dropped all these off at my mom’s when I was in town and asked her to mail them to you, but she forgot. I just returned home to find them still here.

  I’m so sorry for your loss—Patsy was a gem. I miss her so.

  Wishing you peace,

  Sybil

  I sit, hands shaking, trying to marshal the strength I’m going to need to look through that box. There’s a war going on in my chest. The tiny roses on that blouse almost stopped my heart. These last scraps of my sister are going to flat tear me up.

  But at the same time, I want any tiny clue to how Patsy was in her last days. I send up a prayer I find something verifying she was happy, because I can’t handle anything less than that.

  I take a
deep breath and stand.

  I lift the blouse as gently as if it’s made of butterfly wings. I take it to my nose and inhale. The faintest wisp of my sister’s scent remains—the smell of sunshine and outdoors. When I pull it away, there’s a damp spot, and I realize tears are sheeting down my face.

  Next are a pair of day-to-day jeans that are no longer day-to-day; they’re precious.

  Beneath them is another envelope, addressed to me in Patsy’s scrawling hand. The breath whooshes out of my lungs, and I turn it over and rip it open.

  Dear Lorelei,

  I was just going to show up, but I realized the news could cause you or Momma (or both) a heart attack, so here goes.

  I’m madly in love. I have a daughter.

  I can see you standing in front of our mailbox, with the door still flopped open, frozen in shock, reading this. Let me tell you the how, and then I’ll get to the why.

  Carson St. James is a bull rider I met a year and a half ago. From the first, I knew he was it for me, and the miracle is, he feels the same. Lorelei, I know it’s taken a long time, but I finally found the guy on the planet that gets me. We laugh, talk, and hours go by. We just “click”—you know?

  When I found out I was pregnant, I was worried, but I needn’t have been—Carson was thrilled! He treated me like spun glass the whole time I was pregnant, and we got even closer, if that’s possible. He cried when he saw Sawyer for the first time.

  Okay, okay, I’m getting to the why—why I haven’t told you until now. We have been living in a perfect bubble—just him and me, and now Sawyer. Sounds stupid to say, but it felt like the bubble would break if we told anyone; we wanted to revel in our love, and our sweet baby, before we let the world in.

  But Sawyer is six months old now, and I’m starting to realize what I’ve deprived you and Momma of: seeing me happy, my pregnancy…Sawyer. I can’t go back and change that, but I can remedy my mistake.

  We’re coming to see you! In two weeks, we’ll be at a rodeo in Albuquerque, and if it’s okay, we’ll come spend a couple days in Unforgiven.

  You are going to love your niece, Sawyer Lorelei West.

  I’ll see you SOON!