To Love A Cowboy

by Barbara Ankrum

  “Ms. Jamison. Your attorney. She drives a hard bargain, Rafe. Didn’t miss a trick. But how could I turn down hard cash?”

  “Cash?” Rafe echoed dully, turning fully now to Carly, an island of silence amid a tableful of noise. Gus was staring at his half-eaten fish, pushing it around his plate. Rafe’s stomach turned with a sickening thud.

  “You don’t know how glad I was to be able to call those fellas from Sunimoto and tell them that the deal was off. I never wanted to sell there, Rafe. I hope you know that. I was just in a bind. It’s all yours now, free and clear. My attorneys will be sending over the papers within the week. But listen, that girl of yours? She’s sharp as a tack. You oughta keep her around.”

  Rafe’s fingers tightened painfully on the receiver.

  “Kellard?”

  Rafe heard the voice echo in the earpiece. “Yeah,” he said, his voice flat as a skipping stone. “Sharp as a tack. Thanks for the call, Jed. I gotta go.”

  “Sure, sure, Rafe. I’ll be talking to you real—”

  He slammed the receiver down, making Carly jump and the rest simply turn toward him in surprise. He was just standing there, staring at her in disbelief, as if she’d suddenly grown green horns or sprouted purple polka dots. Damn, damn, damn, she thought.

  Rafe slid one hand against his forehead and laughed without an shred of humor. “And here I’m thinking that you and Gus and Chicky are cooking up some kind of party or something.”

  Slowly, Carly stood, bracing one hand against the back of her chair. Her legs felt weak, incapable of holding her up. “Rafe—”

  “But it turns out I wasn’t even invited to this one, was I, Carly?”

  Chapter 13

  The look on his face frightened her. A cold knot tightened in her stomach. “Rafe, if you’ll just let me explain—”

  He looked around the room aimlessly, dragging both hands through his hair. “Explain?” He looked at the children, who were watching him with collective trepidation.

  “What’s the matter, Mom?” Evan asked in a small voice.

  Carly swallowed heavily, unable to take her eyes off Rafe, a caged animal looking for escape.

  Gus’s thick gray eyebrows pulled together in the center as he looked up at his boss. “Now, Rafe, if you’ll just calm down and think about it—”

  Astonished, Rafe impaled him with a killing look. “You too? You knew about this and let it happen?”

  Gus nodded. “Yeah, I did. But it’s not what you—”

  “Of course you did. You drove her didn’t you?” Rafe said accusingly. “A few errands, you said. A new starter and oh,’ the way...let’s stop by Stivers’s and buy that pesky piece of land for poor Rafe, who can’t qualify for a loan of his own!”

  Laurie, who had only now caught on, shifted her astonished gaze between Gus, Rafe and Carly. A whispered epithet escaped her lips.

  “It wasn’t like that,” Carly said, her voice shaky as an aspen leaf in winter.

  “Yes, it was. It was just like that.” Rafe turned on his heel and slammed out the kitchen door, leaving in his wake a thick silence, broken only by the rattle of the door in its frame.

  The sound her fork made as she set it down on her plate seemed overly loud to Carly. In fact, the silence was deafening. She looked up at the others, who were watching her expectantly, all but Gus. His gaze lingered on Rafe’s empty chair.

  Her eyes felt dry and tight, and her throat burned. “I—I’m sorry,” she said, knowing that was hardly adequate. “That wasn’t supposed to happen tonight. I thought I’d have a little more time before...”

  “Wouldn’ta mattered,” Gus said to no one in particular. “Damn-fool stubborn pride.”

  “No, it’s not his fault. It’s mine. I knew how he’d react. I’m just sorry it had to happen now. I wanted this night to be...” She faltered, her voice cracking with emotion.

  “I’ll go talk to him,” Gus said, standing.

  “No,” Carly said. “It’s my mess. I have to explain it.”

  Laurie covered Carly’s hand with hers. “You only did what all of us wished we could have.”

  She wished she could take comfort from those words. But consensus of opinion would mean nothing to Rafe. The issues behind this were too old and too deeply etched on their fragile relationship. She’d done more than wound his pride—she’d yanked it out from under him. And that, she suspected, he would never forgive.

  She found him in the barn, pitching hay, working up a sweat that had already dampened his shirt between his shoulder blades. If he heard her approach, he pretended not to.

  “Rafe.”

  The muscles in his back flexed and strained as he heaved a forkful of hay into the manger of a stall. Moisture gleamed on his forearms below the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt.

  “Rafe?”

  He straightened sharply and turned on her. His eyes were clouded with anger. “Who the hell gave you the right?”

  “To help you? No one.”

  “Help me?” he shouted. “Who asked you? I never did.”

  “I don’t recall asking for your help, either, when you flew to Nevada to rescue me and Evan, but you gave it to me anyway. How is this different?”

  He regarded her darkly through a sweep of lashes.

  “Honey,” he growled, “if you can’t see the difference—”

  “Why don’t you just spell it out for me, Rafe, because frankly, I don’t see it. You needed help, I helped you. Why is that so wrong?”

  His fists curled at his sides and a muscle worked in his jaw. “Because this is my ranch. My life. My problem.”

  “Yes, your problem,” she said quietly, her voice thick and strained. “It’s your problem that you’d rather risk killing yourself than accept help from someone who cares about you. It’s your problem that you care more about your damned pride than you do about that little boy in there, who needs a daddy.”

  “Oh, this is about Evan now?”

  Her eyes stung sharply. “Evan’s part of everything now, Rafe, or haven’t you realized that yet?”

  “Oh, let me see,” he said darkly. “Maybe I missed that part of Parenting 101 sometime in those first eight years of his life.”

  The barb hit its mark with stunning accuracy. Carly winced and looked away.

  He stalked closer, crunching the hay beneath his boots. “Don’t try to tell me about parental responsibility, Carly. I grew up with a drunk for a father who couldn’t hold on to a job, much less a piece of land. This place is mine. I carved it out of this damned valley with my own two hands. Every acre has soaked up my sweat, every fence-post has been drilled into the earth by my hand. It’s what I am. It’s all I have to give to Evan. But I’ll be damned if I make it out of charity.”

  “Charity?” Her breath caught in her throat, and an ache centered itself in her chest. “Is that what you think?”

  “What would you call it?”

  “You...you think I pity you?”

  “Don’t you?” he snapped.

  “Yes,” she said, backing away from his intensity. “Yes, if you really believe that. If you can’t see past your own stupid ego for once—”

  “Ego? How arrogant is it to go around behind my back and—”

  “You would never have allowed me to do it any other way.”

  “You’re damned right!” he shouted, shoving his pitchfork into the pile of hay. “Jesus, Carly what are you trying to do, take every bit of pride I have left?”

  “Pride?” she repeated. “Is that all that matters to you?”

  “Don’t try to turn this around. This is about you taking it upon yourself to fix my life. That’s my job, dammit. Not yours. And where the hell did you get that kind of money, Carly? You don’t just whip that kind of cash out of a back pocket.”

  “What difference does it make?” she asked, knowing it made all the difference.

  His eyes, the color of an arctic icefloe, locked with hers. “Tell me.”

  “I had it wired from my bank in L.
A.”

  He blinked twice. “Just like that?”

  “Just like that.”

  He leaned back on his heels and regarded her with a Why-doesn’t-that-surprise-me? look. “Not bad. Probably didn’t even hurt the old pocketbook, did it? Even I didn’t realize the Public defender’s office paid that well.”

  The time for holding back was past. This was a moment for truth, no matter the consequences. “Tom left me some money,” she said quietly. There, it was out.

  His expression didn’t change, but the blood drained from his face. “Better and better. You actually expected me to take money from your dead husband?”

  Carly felt her heartbeat slow to a dull thud. “This isn’t about Tom, Rafe.”

  He reached for the pitchfork and stabbed at the hay. “I won’t sign the papers, Carly, so you might as well call Stivers up and tell him the deal is off.”

  She turned slightly until the moonlight shafting through the nearby window fell across her face. How cool and still the world seemed right now. The horses in the stalls stirred restively. From somewhere in the distance came the lonely sound of a whippoorwill. She had thought—imagined—that the end, when it came, would announce itself with a bang or a thump, or the awful sound of her heart breaking. The silence was a surprise.

  “The contracts don’t require your signature,” she said quietly. “I purchased the land and quitclaimed it to you. It’s done.”

  He turned slowly toward her in disbelief. She’d eradicated the last bit of control he might have had. And she could see he hated her for it.

  She started to turn away, but stopped. She’d let him have the last word for the last time. This time, she had nothing left to lose.

  “You think this was all about money, don’t you?”

  He didn’t answer, only watched the tears forming in her eyes.

  “It wasn’t, you know. It wasn’t a bribe, or a token, or even a flaunt. It was a gift.” She fisted her hand against her chest and choked back a sob. “A gift of the heart. Because I love you. I did it for you, and for Evan, and maybe even for us. But you can’t see that, can you? You equate love with pity, faith with charity.

  “You know the trouble with you, Rafe? You’re afraid of love. It terrifies you, doesn’t it? And you’ve never been able to accept it, especially from me. Well, I’m sorry for you. It must be lonely as hell where you are. I hope you’re very happy there, because Evan and I are leaving tomorrow. But hey, there’ll always be a rodeo somewhere to run to, won’t there? Who knows? You might even win.”

  She turned again to go, only to turn back for one last parting shot. Tears were running down her cheeks now, unchecked. She didn’t care. “You know, Rafe, Tom may not have been the love of my life, but I loved him. And he loved me. He trusted me. And you know what? I deserve that.”

  “Is that everything?” Gus asked, hefting Carly’s suitcase off her bed and glancing around the bare room.

  She nodded, having already looked twice everywhere. “I think so.”

  “Well,” he muttered. “Well...”

  She put a hand over his and gave him a squeeze. “I haven’t said thank you.”

  “Fer what?” he asked with a frown. “Steerin’ you wrong? Makin’ you hope for—” His voice faltered, and he shook his head.

  “You didn’t steer me any way I didn’t want to go. None of this is your fault, Gus. It’s just what’s meant to be.”

  “Well, gol dang it,” he said, angry now, “somethin’ went awry somewhere, ’cause it shouldn’t oughta end like this.”

  She smiled sadly at him, grateful beyond words for his friendship. “We’d better get going.”

  “Right. Truck’s around front. I’ll meet you out there.” After he left, Carly took one final look around the room. Something caught her eye on the edge of the dresser, and she reached down to pick it up. It was the picture of the two of them on the hot-air balloon.

  Carly rubbed her thumb lightly across the image, as if trying to conjure up the moment that had been captured there. Impossible, of course. That moment and all the others were gone now. It was over. There would never be a dressertop full of pictures of them together, watching Evan grow up. And maybe it was all for the best.

  But it sure as hell didn’t feel that way.

  Carefully she put the picture back and headed for Evan’s room. She found him lying on the bed with his back firmly to the door.

  “Ev? Time to go, honey. You all packed?”

  Silence replied. His suitcase sat open, but haphazardly packed, at the foot of the bed. One sock lay forgotten near the end of his bed, and she picked it up and tossed it into the suitcase.

  “Ev? I know you don’t want to go, but—”

  “Then why do we have to?” he grumbled, still facing the bank of windows, where the San Juans stood sentinel over the valley.

  She sat on the bed beside him, her weight dipping his small body toward her. “We’ve already talked about this, Ev.” She started to rub a hand across his back, but he shrugged it away and rolled off the bed.

  “I know,” he said.

  “Gus said he’d buy us some ice cream in town. Jake and Jordan and Laurie are meeting us there. That’ll be fun, right?”

  Evan scowled at her, seeing right through her pathetic distraction ploy.

  “Hey,” she said, holding out her hand to him. “C’mere.”

  Reluctantly he came, sitting beside her as he had since he was a little tiny boy. “You’re right,” she told him gathering him to her in a hug. “It doesn’t feel like fun, does it? But remember what Aunt Katherine used to say?” She pulled a regal face of quiet dignity that made Evan watch against his will. In her best imperious imitation of Katherine, she declared, “‘When life hands you lemons, my dahlings, pull out your best crystal pitcher and squeeze!’”

  Evan smiled grudgingly, and Carly gave him a hug. “But you remember, no matter what happens with me and Rafe, you’ll come back here lots. I promise you that. Okay?”

  Knowing he had no choice but to accept the inevitable, he nodded. “Okay.”

  “Let’s go, champ.”

  Rafe was waiting beside the pickup, under the obvious guise of securing her things inside the bed of the truck. When she and Evan approached, he turned. He looked awful, as if he hadn’t slept. Or shaved. Dark circles smudged the skin below his eyes and emphasized the anger she still read on his expression. He took Evan’s suitcase from Carly, briefly touching her hand. For a moment, they stood frozen, hands linked, as if somehow, that touch could heal whatever was wrong with them. But he pulled away and slid the small suitcase onto the truck.

  He turned back to Evan as a sage-scented breeze drifted around them. Rafe hunkered down before his son, touched the lapels on his jacket and brushed a hand through his soft blond hair. “You take care of your mom, now, you hear?”

  Evan nodded solemnly.

  “I’ll see you again, real soon, pard. Promise. Okay?”

  Evan nodded, then threw his arms around Rafe’s neck and held on tight. Rafe closed his eyes, and hugged him back. They stayed like that for a full thirty seconds before Rafe broke the embrace, pulling Evan back to look at him. “I never told you,” he said, “but I’m...I’m so proud of you, son. And I’ll keep Tampico right here for you for the next time you come to visit. He’s yours now.”

  Evan’s teary eyes widened. “Really?”

  Rafe crossed his chest. “You earned him.”

  Evan hugged him again. “Cool. Thanks...Dad.”

  Rafe’s heart gave a squeeze.

  This time, Evan pulled back and reached into his pocket. When he withdrew his small fingers, he held a shiny coin. “Here. You take this,” Evan said, pressing the lucky dime into Rafe’s hand.

  “But that’s yours now,” Rafe said with a frown.

  “You know how you said that you can share luck? Well, I thought maybe if you had it back you’d be lucky again. And maybe...” The last drifted off, unspoken.

  Rafe’s gaze flicked to Ca
rly, who was watching her son through glittering eyes.

  “Thanks, Ev,” Rafe said, taking the dime. “I guess I could use a little luck at that. I’ll take real good care of it. You go on now and hop in the truck, while I say goodbye to your mom.”

  One final hug for Macky, who wagged a disconsolate tail, and Evan climbed aboard beside Gus, who was already behind the wheel.

  Rafe turned back to Carly, tucked his thumbs into the back of his waistband and let out a long breath.

  “Thanks—for everything,” she said, clutching a bag of Evan’s things in front of her like a shield.

  Rafe took it from her and settled it in the back with the rest of the things. He shoved his hands into his back pockets. “I’ll, uh...pay you back when I get the money together,” he said into the uncomfortable silence that stretched between them.

  If he’d slapped her, it couldn’t have stung more. “Whatever,” she said stiffly.

  He searched her face, and then his gaze drifted to the horizon just past her shoulder. “You’ll...let me know how to reach you?”

  “Of course. As soon as we settle.” She opened the door of the truck. “Goodbye, Rafe.”

  “Carly?”

  She froze, then tilted her head just enough to see him.

  A muscle worked in his jaw as he met her eyes. “Take care.”

  She wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t give that to him now. “You too,” she said thickly.

  Rafe stepped back with a nod and watched her get in the truck and pull the door shut. Then, without another word, she was gone.

  He stood for long minutes watching the cloud of dust spit up by the vanishing truck. Then he went to the paddock, saddled Bogus, and tore out of the yard at a ground-eating gallop.

  And though he worked the horse and himself into a lather, he soon discovered that he couldn’t go fast enough or far enough to outrun the feeling that he’d just thrown away his last chance.

  Chapter 14

  Rafe lifted Bogus’s bridle off its hook in the tack room and laid it over the worktable. He slapped a dab of saddle soap on his rag and attacked the hapless leather.