by Andrew Grey
Table of Contents
Half a Cowboy
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Epilogue
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Copyright
Half a Cowboy
By Andrew Grey
Ever since his discharge from the military, injured veteran Ashton Covert has been running his family ranch—and running himself into the ground to prove he still can.
Ben Malton knows about running too. When he takes refuge in Ashton’s barn after an accident in a Wyoming blizzard, he’s thinking only of survival and escaping his abusive criminal ex, Dallas.
Ashton has never met a responsibility he wouldn’t try to shoulder. When he finds Ben half-frozen, he takes it upon himself to help. But deadly trouble follows Ben wherever he goes. He needs to continue on, except it may already be too late.
Working together brings Ben and Ashton close, kindling fires not even the Wyoming winter can douse. Something about Ben makes Ashton feel whole again. But before they can ride into the sunset together, they need to put an end to Dallas’s threats. Ben can make a stand, with Ashton’s help—only it turns out the real danger could be much closer to home.
Chapter 1
BEN WAS cold—actually, way past cold. His feet and legs had once been like ice, but now he felt nothing except fear… both ahead and behind him. The fog from his breath hung in the air, and his lungs ached. Ben pulled his coat closed and shoved his gloved hands into his pants pockets, flattening them against his thighs to try to force some warmth into them.
He should have stayed in the car, but no one was going to find him there. He swore under his breath, silently berating himself for going that fast, letting panic override his better judgment. But the car had flipped and ended up far enough from the road that no one would ever see him, especially with the wind that had been blowing earlier wiping away the marks in the snow. The windows had broken in the crash, so the vehicle didn’t offer much protection anyway. He needed to find shelter and help.
Fortunately the wind had died, but that also meant that the sky had cleared. That was both a blessing and a curse. The moon shone in the sky, lighting the snow so he could see where he was going even this late at night. But it also meant that the temperature had dropped quickly, and it felt like it was still dropping.
Ben had only one thing on his mind—he had to find shelter. He kept telling himself that over and over with each trudging step through the snowdrifts toward the rise in the distance. He had to make it. That rise might be his only chance to see if there was anything out in this desolate country. He thought he might have seen some buildings this way as he’d driven through.
A shiver began in his back and ran all the way through him, causing his entire body to shake. The Wyoming cold sapped his energy, and Ben knew he was coming to the last of his reserves. His time was running out. He was tempted to just lie down in the snow and give up.
“Shit,” he moaned to himself as he took another few steps, the snow not quite as deep as it had been. He made some progress, but the air crackled with the dry cold, and the only sound was the crunch of brittle ice under his shoes.
Step after step, breath after breath, he pushed forward, turning toward a bend in the vegetation… then gasping. A light. There was light.
He hurried forward, fell, then pushed himself back up. Finally he found the road again, which made the going easier. Somehow he must have gotten turned around and gone the wrong way, but there it was. He hurried along much faster now, the pain in his feet returning with the activity. At least that meant they were still working and not about to fall off or something. Ben tried not to think about anything other than the light, which seemed to be mounted on the outside of a low barn or outbuilding.
Shelter—that was all he could think of. He didn’t see other buildings, but maybe they were closer to the trees in the distance. He didn’t stop to think about it. All his mind screamed at him to do was get out of the cold so he didn’t freeze to death.
Ben couldn’t believe he had finally broken away from his life of fear. It had taken months to get up the courage, and he had gone in the direction Dallas would least expect: away from the city, away from everyone, out into the wilds of the west and as far from the comforts of civilization as he could get. Of course, it had been his pursuit of those comforts that had gotten him into trouble in the first place. Ben should have known that no one gave something for nothing, and Dallas had offered a life and comforts he had only dreamed about. Definitely more than a kid from Beaumont, Texas, who barely had a high school diploma and who had spent much of his teenage years in foster care, should expect. Unfortunately all the good things Dallas showed him were on the surface, with darkness, fear, and control just underneath. Dallas had been looking for a plaything, a pretty young trophy he could manipulate and show off when it suited him. And Ben had fit the bill perfectly.
He pulled his thoughts away from things he could do nothing about and concentrated on the lights getting closer. And they were, thank God.
The building was indeed a barn, and Ben heard the shuffling of animals inside. He paused at the door before trying to open it, hoping to hell he wouldn’t get eaten by a huge dog once he entered. Then again, anything was better than freezing to death. He pulled, and the door swung toward him, leading to a cavern of darkness. Ben stepped inside and closed the door, standing still as beasts moved in the shadows around him.
Nothing touched him, and he closed his eyes to help force them to adjust. When he opened them again, there was just enough light coming in through the windows to illuminate the outlines of where he was.
It was noticeably warmer inside. He stomped his feet, which ached, but he did it again to rid them of the snow, and brushed his legs off as well. Slowly he walked down the center of the barn, large shapes looming out of the darkness toward him. Horses—they were horses. He sighed a little and inhaled the scent of fresh hay tinged with droppings. Okay, so it wasn’t as fresh-smelling as he might have liked. But it was warm—well, warmer. He looked around for something, anything, to wrap himself up in.
At the far end, there was a workbench under a window with horsey stuff hung above it and what looked like some folded blankets. They were probably for the animals, but Ben was too cold to care. He lifted two of them and turned to find a place where he could lie down. He was so worn out, his eyes kept drooping and his legs shook. He needed to get warm.
He turned into a dark space with maybe straw on the floor. It seemed dry and clean, so he spread a blanket on the top and lay on it after taking off his boots, pulling the other over him as he shook from head to toe. His feet and hands ached and he was thirsty and still cold, but the blankets helped.
Doing his best to let go of some of his fear, he closed his eyes, willing himself to warm up between the blankets, which smelled like the horses around him. Not that he minded. They didn’t seem interested in him, and Ben realized that it was their heat that was keeping the barn warm. At least he was no longer freezing. He figured that as soon as the light came in through the windows, he could venture out into the day and figure out his next steps. He needed to put as much distance behind him as he could as quickly as possible. He had made it this far. If he could get to one of the big California cities, he could blend in, find work, and become a face in th
e crowd where no one would know he had been a criminal’s plaything. No one would be able to find him, and he would be safe. Taking a deep breath, he finally relaxed as the cold that had gripped him so deeply seemed to lose its hold.
SOMETHING DEEP in Ben’s dreams shifted. Doors creaked, and he heard footsteps. He tried to figure out where they were coming from, along with the insistent tapping sound that he couldn’t place. He burrowed deeper into the blankets, desperate to keep the intense cold he knew was waiting out there for him at bay for a little while longer.
“Would you like to tell me what you’re doing here?”
The deep, rough voice cut through Ben’s dream and yanked him to full reality. His memory returned in a rush, and he jumped up, nearly tripping over his own aching feet. He had intended to be gone by now, but he must have slept deeper than he intended.
“Answer me.”
“I….” He ran his hands through his hair. “I’m sorry. I… the car…. I was freezing….” His knees buckled under him, and he ended up back on the floor of what he now saw was a horse stall.
His head swam, and the world around him seemed to spin as bells rang in his ears. He tried to get up again and this time managed to stand and even take a few steps without falling down, but it took all his willpower to keep on his feet and pull on his boots.
“Those were your footsteps in the snow?” the stranger asked. Ben nodded, slowly turning to face him. “What were you doing to my horses?”
“Nothing.” He held on to one of the stall walls. “Just getting out of the cold.” Ben tried to remember the last time he had eaten or had anything to drink. “I’ll get out of your hair. Sorry for the intrusion.” He headed toward the door and pushed it open. It was time to get going anyway.
The light from the sun on the snow was nearly blinding, and the cold took hold of him immediately. He shivered and shook.
“It’s okay,” the rough voice said from behind him as Ben began to cough. “Marcel, Lucifer, I need your help.”
It took all of Ben’s will to stay upright as two men, one on either side, took hold of him. He struggled to get away but didn’t have the strength. It was happening again. “Please don’t hurt me.” He fought in mindless panic, but there was nothing he could do but stumble forward in the direction the men were taking him.
“No one is going to hurt you,” one of the cowboys said as they helped him into a truck. Ben flopped back on the seat and remained still as the others got in on either side of him. Heat blew out of the vents as they drove a short distance. The men helped him out of the truck and across a small open area into a single-story ranch house. When they walked through the door, Ben wondered if it led to hell. But he was too weak to care. Maybe Dallas had found him after all and this was the end.
Inside was a darker, warmer room, and they helped him lie down with cushions under him and blankets on top, placed there carefully and with soothing words. The man from the barn thanked someone. All Ben knew was that he wasn’t standing… and he was so tired. His eyes refused to stay open, but his heart still raced, and he was a jumble of anxiety. Where was he, and what was going to happen to him?
“Drink this, it’s warm tea. It will help,” the man said, helping him upright.
Ben did as he was told. The liquid felt good and hit his empty belly hard. He held it down and sipped again and again, his thirst taking over.
“Slow down. It’s going to be okay.” It was the same voice—the man who had snapped at him—but now he seemed gentle and caring.
It had been so long since anyone had cared for Ben. He began to cry, his shoulders shaking as a wave of desperation, loneliness, and helplessness washed over him. “Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do any of this,” he whispered.
“Just drink some more.”
Ben did until there was no more, and then he lay back down, real warmth seeping into him. “Thank you,” he sighed. He kept his eyes closed because that seemed to make the room stop spinning.
“You’re welcome.” Footsteps combined with a gentle tapping on the wooden floor retreated and then returned. “Drink some more. I think the cold has dehydrated you, so you need to keep drinking. Then you can rest awhile.” He helped Ben with some more of the tea and then laid him back down. Ben pulled the blankets back over himself.
“Thank you,” he said again and opened his eyes.
The man leaned over the sofa, adjusting the blankets so they covered Ben’s feet, and then turned to him. The biggest, brightest blue eyes Ben had ever seen shone back at him from a face that had seen a lot of life and spent years out in the sun. “You’re very welcome. Now rest. I’ll make something to eat in a little while.” He stood and stepped away, leaning a little on a cane with his left hand. “Just relax. You’re safe here.” He left the room, and it grew quiet.
The idea that he wasn’t going to be hurt, or worse, settled into his mind, and Ben blinked and sighed with relief. Yeah, he knew he couldn’t stay here for very long, but some rest would be welcome, and the scent of whatever was cooking in the kitchen had his stomach rumbling. Not that he had the energy to get off this sofa right now. He closed his eyes and figured he would take things one step at a time for now.
After a while—was it an hour, or longer?—the man with the cane returned with a glass of water and helped him drink part of it. Then he set the glass on the table and left the room, only to return with a plate in his free hand. “Go ahead and sit up. Eat a little and you’ll start to feel even better.” He waited as Ben slowly propped himself against the cushions. Then the man set the plate on his lap and turned to leave once more.
The food was basic: scrambled eggs, a piece of toast cut in half, and a few sausage links. Ben took a bite of egg and then a second. It tasted really good. He drank some more, and then his appetite kicked in and he had to stop himself from shoveling the food into his mouth.
“No one is going to take the plate from you. Just relax and eat slowly. You don’t want it to come back up on you.” The man sat in a chair at an angle to the sofa with his own plate balanced on his lap. “I’m Ashton, Ashton Covert.”
“Ben Mal… voin, Malvoin.” He changed his last name to be safe. There was no way he wanted to leave a trail. It was best if Benjamin Malton simply disappeared forever. Besides, these people didn’t need to pay for their kindness with the kind of terror Dallas could unleash if he tracked Ben here. “Thank you for all of this.” He finished eating and set the plate on the table. Then he drank the rest of his water and lay back down, almost more tired now than he was when they’d brought him in.
“You rest, and we can talk later,” Ashton said. “Stay warm. If you want some, there’s tea in the kitchen. Water too, of course. Get what you need.” He continued eating, and Ben watched him, taking in his weathered features and the way Ashton lifted his gaze sometimes between bites. Ashton’s gaze seemed almost hard, like the weight of the world had settled in those eyes. Ben knew exactly how that felt.
By the time Ashton finished eating, Ben was struggling to keep his eyes open. As soon as Ashton left the room, he snuggled under the blankets and fell asleep.
BEN WOKE sometime later. He wasn’t sure how long he had been asleep, but the house was silent. No one moved. He slowly pushed back the blankets and sat up, clearing his head. He carefully stood and wandered into the kitchen, where he drank some water and found a plate of cookies on the counter with a note to have some if he liked. Homemade cookies. He looked around and marveled at how clean the room was, admiring the pots and pans that hung from the ceiling. That was high-end, expensive cookware for professionals.
The man who lived here was certainly not what Ben expected a rancher to be like. He lifted the plastic wrap and took a cookie, biting into it and moaning softly at the chocolaty, buttery decadence. Ben ate it and took another, then closed the wrap before drinking some more water.
He knew it would probably be best if he left, but he honestly had little idea where he was and no way of going anywhere if he did. His car
was useless, probably buried until the spring, not that it was going to do him any good in the shape it was in.
A door opened and nails tapped on the floor. Suddenly Ben was surrounded by a phalanx of dogs jumping and jostling for attention. “If you pet them, they will be your friends for life,” Ashton said as he came into the room. “I can put them back out if they bother you.”
Ben shook his head and scratched behind ears and down backs, only to get mobbed even more by the motley group of mutts.
“Come on, it’s time to eat.”
They took off after Ashton and were soon munching away from bowls along the far wall. “Ummm, if someone could give me a ride to a town with a bus station or something, I’ll get out of your hair. I need to have someone take care of what’s left of my car and….”
“The car was already found and towed. A friend of mine has it, but he says it’s probably a lost cause,” Ashton said. “As for leaving, I doubt anyone is going to be moving very soon. Another snowstorm is on its way, and all anyone can do is hunker down until it passes. Could be a few days.” He pulled out one of the chairs and sat down, motioning for Ben to do the same. “What were you doing out in that kind of weather? Cold nights will kill anything that’s out in them. It was near twenty below last night. You were probably less than half an hour from not recovering at all.” His gaze bored into Ben, but it didn’t come across as bad or challenging, more like intoxicating in its intensity. Ashton was probably in his early thirties, with dark hair and smooth skin over a chiseled jaw, but his deep brown eyes said that he had experienced a lot in those years. Ben shifted a little uncomfortably, wondering if Ashton could look into his soul. What if he didn’t like that he saw?
“My car went off the road and….”
Ashton leaned closer, his gaze hard. “Look, you can tell me anything you like to feel safe.” Those piercing blue eyes, flecked with touches of green, never wavered. “But you holed up in my barn after an accident you had when you were driving on roads no one would ever have been out on unless they were desperate or in trouble. So which is it? Or is it both?”