Million Dollar Cowboy

by Lori Wilde

  After the two shots, Duke’s ruddy complexion took on the look of a sandstorm sunset, clouded, dark, brooding.

  Something was up with the old man, but this wasn’t the time or place to pry. As far as Ridge knew, he could very well be that something. No point throwing gas on a blazing campfire. Monday. He only had to get through the weekend. Monday, he’d be gone.

  Archer slung an arm around Ridge’s shoulder. “Thanks for this. I know coming home was tough, and that you did it just for me.”

  “Couldn’t let you get married without me. I know where all the bodies are buried,” Ridge teased.

  Archer chuckled. “We did tear up this town when we were young.”

  Ridge watched Duke pick up a putter and head to the AstroTurf green with Armand, his steps swaying rhythmically like a sailor who knew how to ride the swells.

  “How’s the eye?” Archer picked up a mug of black beer and took a sip.

  “I’ll live.”

  Archer shook his head. “It was reckless of Duke to take Majestic around a lot of people, especially a toddler.”

  “Yeah, well, you know.” Ridge shrugged as if he didn’t care, but it was camouflage. He’d always cared too much about what his father said and did. Spent his life doing the opposite. “Duke does what he wants. Doesn’t think about anyone else. He hasn’t changed a whit in ten years.”

  “That’s not entirely true.”

  “No?”

  “He’s slowing down.”

  “He should.” Ridge grunted, felt the sound root around in his chest. “He’s chasing sixty.”

  “He has regrets.”

  Ridge raised an eyebrow, not believing that for a second. “He told you that?”

  “C’mon, he’s Duke. He’s never going to come right out and say what he feels.”

  “So you could be way off base on the regret thing.”

  “Whether he admits it or not, your father is lonely. Remington and Rhett rarely come home, and you know Ranger. He lives and breathes the McDonald Observatory.”

  “Did someone say something about McDonald Observatory?” Ranger asked, sidling over with a Jack and Coke in his hand, eyes shiny with interest and liquor.

  “See?” Archer grinned at Ridge. “None of you boys fell in the love with ranching the way Duke hoped.”

  “Four sons,” Ridge muttered, feeling a crust of anger crackle up his spine. “And none of us good enough for him.”

  “I see your point,” Archer said. “But Duke’s got a hankering to have his family around him and lots of grandkids playing in the yard.”

  “Yeah, now that he’s getting old, he’s getting maudlin.” Ridge snorted, the hotness of his breath burning the inside of his nose. “If he wanted a closer-knit family, he should have been a better father.”

  “Everyone has regrets,” Archer said philosophically.

  “I don’t.” Ridge clenched his teeth, heard them clack together.

  “No?” Archer’s tone was mild, but his eyes said he didn’t believe a word Ridge was saying. “What about Kaia?”

  Startled, Ridge drew back, eyed his buddy. “What about Kaia?”

  “You don’t regret not telling her you flew down to see her when she was in the hospital after her accident?”

  “Why would I regret that?”

  “I dunno.” Archer lifted a shoulder, slanted his head. “You two were acting weird this morning when you came back from your house. Like something was going on between you. Maybe if you’d stuck around at the hospital until she came out of the coma you could have—”

  “If I seemed weird in any way, it was because it was the first time setting foot in my house since …” He shrugged again. “Well, you know.”

  Archer studied him. “I thought maybe being in close quarters with Kaia threw you for a loop. You haven’t seen her all grown-up. Peeking into her hospital room when she was in a coma doesn’t count.”

  “Why would that throw me? She’s your kid sister. There’s nothing there.” Okay, so he was lying. Self-preservation.

  “My gorgeous kid sister.”

  “All your sisters are gorgeous.”

  “Tell me about it.” Archer held up both fists. “Can’t begin to tell you how many scars I got on my knuckles protecting their honor.”

  “I know,” Ridge said. “I was with you a time or two.”

  “So really?” Archer prodded like a determined tabloid journalist. “No regrets?”

  “I’m regretting that we’re not playing poker,” Ranger said. “Who’s up for poker?”

  “You’ll win,” Archer predicted. “You always do.”

  “Can I help it if I’ve got a poker face?” Ranger kept his face stoic.

  Ridge waved a hand at his younger brother. “Since you’re the card shark, round everyone up, and we’ll play.”

  Two minutes later, the nine men were sitting around the poker table, Ranger gleefully dealing cards for Texas Hold ’Em. Poker was the only thing that interested Ranger beyond astrobiology.

  At first glance, the two topics seemed incongruous, but both disciplines required cunning and cool objectivity. Something Ranger possessed in spades.

  After Ranger’s mother, Sabrina, divorced Duke over Ridge coming to live with them, she’d taken off with another man who didn’t want kids, so she’d left her son behind. That was before Duke had married Lucy, and he and Ranger were cared for by a string of underqualified nannies, who didn’t notice Ranger had contracted scarlet fever.

  It was only when Bridgette Alzate intervened that Ranger got the treatment he needed, but by then the fever had caused complications with his heart. Ranger spent a big chunk of his childhood on the sidelines, unable to do much else except read. But all that reading had given him a whip-sharp mind.

  Lively bachelor party conversation flew around the poker table. Food eaten. Alcohol consumed. Ice broken. Things warmed up.

  It felt odd.

  Sitting in the dim room, filling with cigar smoke from Duke’s stogie, looking around at the familiar faces that had changed more than he’d expected over the ten years. He was here and he was interacting, but he didn’t fit. He didn’t belong. He was the outsider who’d gone away. Brooks & Dunn played on the Wurlitzer, “Rock My World Little Country Girl.” Ridge listened to the lyrics. Thought of Kaia. She was one little country girl who’d rocked his world. Felt his stomach draw up tight. Wondered how the bachelorette party was going. Wished he could see her.

  “Nervous about tomorrow?” Ned asked Archer, and bit into a fanny-shaped cookie.

  Archer grinned. “Nope. Looking forward to starting my life with Casey.”

  “Don’t expect too much from the wedding night,” Ned said. “It’s not what it’s cracked up to be. You’ll both be exhausted.”

  “I know where you can get some Viagra. Keep you up all night.” Zeke snickered. He was a tall, stringy guy with rounded shoulders and a pockmarked face. His hair was the color of Oklahoma clay, and he’d been married three times because he had a tendency to fall hard and fast for the wrong type of woman. No one took him seriously about anything except ranching.

  “Hey, hey!” protested Herb, a squat, tax accountant with square-framed black glasses, a baldpate, and a trustworthy voice. “You’re talking about my daughter!”

  “Plug your ears, pardner,” Zeke advised. “It is a bachelor party.”

  Archer glowered. “Herb’s right. We’re not discussing Casey.”

  “Duke,” Kip said, sloshing beer when he raised his mug. Freckled-faced, big-eared, and bucktoothed, Kip looked like MAD magazine’s Alfred E. Neuman. He was a former bull riding champion and wore the big belt buckle to prove it. “Give Archer some of your boner pills. He’s too shy to ask for himself.”

  “Kip, shut up,” Archer snapped.

  Duke chomped on his cigar, switching it from one corner of his mouth to the other. “I don’t need no damn Viagra. I keep Vivi plenty pleased all on my own.”

  “You expect us to believe that?” Ned asked. “Wh
en you’re married to a gorgeous younger woman.”

  “How ’bout those Rangers?” Ridge said, steering the conversation to safer shores. “Think they’ll make it to the pennant race?”

  Archer jumped on the new direction, talking about the latest pitcher the Texas Rangers had recently acquired as bets were made and chips added to the ante. Conversation lagged as everyone concentrated on what was turning out to be a sprightly hand.

  Ridge had a pair of Jacks, so he confidently stayed in past the flop even though he could play off none of the three flop cards.

  Ned dealt the turn card and another round of bidding followed. No one folded.

  The river card. Another Jack. Giving Ridge three of a kind. He grinned and upped the bet. It was Zeke’s turn to call or raise.

  “Hmm.” Zeke studied his two cards as if they would magically change to a winning hand. He drummed his fingers on the table, scratched his jaw, and shifted in his seat.

  “Make a move.” Duke’s voice was a cheese grater, rough and irritating. “Before I take those cards away and smack you with them.”

  Ridge tensed. Ah, just like old times. Tensions high. Duke growling some threat or the other. But on the bright side, this time he was not the target.

  “On my salary, I can’t afford to lose,” Zeke said.

  “Then fold,” Duke grunted.

  “I’ve already got sixty bucks in the pot.” Zeke shoved a hand through his hair.

  “Fish or cut bait,” Duke said.

  “Fine.” Zeke folded, tossing his cards on the table. “Fold, pardners.”

  Duke narrowed his eyes, looked across the table at Ridge. “You got a pair of Jacks?”

  The hairs on the back of Ridge’s neck lifted. How had the old man guessed?

  “’Bout as likely as you do,” he said mildly.

  “You never could bluff for shit.” Duke’s eyes challenged him as he tossed more chips on the table. “All right. I raise you a hundred bucks.”

  Ridge shrugged. “And I raise you five hundred.”

  Archer threw his cards in the middle of the table. “Too rich for my blood.”

  “Me too.” Ned tossed his in as well, followed by Armand, Herb, and Kip. Leaving only Ridge, Ranger, and Duke still playing.

  “All in.” Duke pushed his entire stack to the middle of the table between splayed hands.

  “All in.” Ridge held his father’s hard-edged stare and tossed his remaining chips on top of his father’s.

  “Looks like all the Lockharts are all in.” Ranger laughed, and added his chips to the pile.

  “Whatcha got?” Duke demanded of Ridge.

  “You first.”

  “I’m not bluffing.” Duke clenched his jaw.

  “Neither am I.”

  They stared each other down.

  “You are both ridiculously stubborn,” Ranger muttered. “Two of a kind.”

  “We are not!” Ridge and his father snapped in unison.

  “All right, here’s the plan,” Ranger mediated. “We all turn them over on the count of three. One … two … three.”

  “Three Jacks.” Ridge flipped his cards over.

  “Ha!” Duke chortled. “Three Queens. I win.” He reached for the pot.

  “Not so fast.” Ranger laid out his cards one by one. “I’ve got four twos. Read ’em and weep, fellas.”

  “Burn!” Kip guffawed.

  “Sonofabitch!” Cursing, Duke flung his cards across the room.

  “Don’t mess with the master,” Ranger clasped his hands over his head in victory. “When will you ever learn?”

  “Congratulations,” Ridge said, getting up to stretch, his eyes on his father.

  Duke’s face was flushed, and a blood vessel at his temple throbbed wildly. He went to the refreshment table for another Jell-O shooter.

  Ridge followed him. “Don’t you think you’ve had enough?”

  “Butt out.” Duke swallowed the contents of a condom Jell-O shooter filled with grape vodka. “This is a bachelor party.”

  “Yeah, so don’t ruin it.”

  Duke laughed a dark laugh. “Oh that’s rich. You telling me what to do. The prodigal son returns and expects to be met with open arms.”

  “I have no such expectations from you.” Ridge struggled to keep his voice and anger low. Duke was drunk. This wasn’t the time or place to mine a fight with his old man, even though the blowup had been brewing for years.

  “Sure you do. You swagger in here with your fancy airplane and your patented drilling method expecting everyone to fall at your feet. Thinking you’re better than us. Thinking you’re better than me.”

  “Wait just a minute.” Ridge put a palm. “You sleep with my girlfriend in my house, and I’m the shitheel?”

  “You still holding on to that?” Duke glowered. “Vivi picked me over you. She wanted a real man. Deal with it.”

  Ridge bit down on his tongue to keep from saying all the dark ugly things he’d kept tamped down for a decade. Vile things that seethed and twisted. Grisly things that wanted to explode all over his father and burn him with hot foul spew.

  “Party’s over for you, old man. I’m taking you home.”

  “The hell you say.” Duke’s eyes burned like lava, his words slurred, his knees wobbly. That last Jell-O shot sent him over the edge into full-on hammered. He raised his fists. “Put up your dukes. The time has come to have this out. Man-to-man.”

  “I’m not swatting a gnat with a bazooka.”

  “You calling me a gnat?” Duke pummeled the air like he was boxing a speed bag.

  “You’re acting like one. Annoying as hell.”

  “Coward.” Duke took a swing at him.

  Ridge ducked. “I’m not hitting a drunk old man.”

  “I’ll show you old man.” Duke threw a left jab.

  Ridge, who hadn’t had a drop of alcohol, easily sidestepped it. “And you wonder why I haven’t been home in ten years.”

  The rest of the men had gathered to watch, ringing them as if they were at a boxing match. No one intervened.

  “I’m not fighting you,” Ridge reiterated.

  “Pussy.” Duke came at him with a barrage of punches.

  Ridge waltzed out of reach. “Don’t make me do this.”

  “C’mon, c’mon.” Duke motioned him closer. “I can take you.”

  “Not even on your best days.”

  Duke jutted out his chin. “I dare you.”

  Ridge had been holding back on punching him for twenty years. His fingers twitched and he had to knot his hands to quell his anger.

  “Chicken. That’s what I thought.” Duke swayed on his feet, hiccuped, reached for a mug of black beer.

  But Ridge was quicker and moved the mug away. He grabbed his father’s arm. “Party’s over for you, old man. Let’s go.”

  Duke jerked back. “I’m not ready to go.”

  “Time we all called it a night.” Archer faked a yawn, stretched. “Big day tomorrow, and Ranger cleaned us out.”

  “Aww.” Zeke groaned. “It’s not even ten o’clock.”

  Armand and Herb were already heading for the door. They motioned for Ned to join them, and the three sidled out the exit.

  Ridge stuck out his palm, insisted, “Give me your keys.”

  “I’m the father, not you.”

  “And you’re drunk. Give me the keys or I’ll take them off of you.”

  “Try it.”

  “Dad.” Ranger stepped forward. “If you don’t go quietly with Ridge, I’m gonna punch you.”

  “Oh sure, gang up on a defenseless old man.”

  Ranger snorted and sank his hands on his hips. “You’re about as defenseless as a rattlesnake.”

  “Never have children,” Duke told Archer. “They’ll stab you in the back.”

  “Only if you steal their girlfriends.” Ridge couldn’t resist.

  “Don’t pretend she was the love of your life.” Duke’s eyes glistened through the alcohol sheen. His words slow and slurred. />
  “Doesn’t matter. You seduced her when she was dating me. That disqualifies you from father of the year.”

  “Among other things,” Ranger mumbled.

  Duke laughed, deep but mirthless. “You know why Vivi picked me?”

  “’Cause you’re filthy rich?”

  “No.” Duke shook his head like a dog flinging off water. “Well, maybe a little. But she picked me because I’m not afraid to live. I know when to work and when to play and how to have a good time. All you care about is showing me up. Prove you’re better than me.”

  That rankled, but Ridge refused to rise to the bait. Best move? End this as quickly and quietly as possible.

  “You …” Duke pointed a finger at Ridge. “You hide behind work ’cause you think it will save you. It won’t.”

  Truth? Work had saved him. Work kept him sane. Kept him out of trouble. Made him money. Helped him win. Dedication to hard work was what made him a good quarterback in high school and college. That push, the urge to constantly be more, get more, achieve more.

  Everyone loved winners.

  And here his father was telling him he’d lost Vivi for the very behavior that had attracted her to him in the first place?

  Not damn likely.

  The old coot was drunk and spouting nonsense. He wouldn’t let him get under his skin, because that’s exactly what Duke wanted. To scratch the thick hide he’d developed. Make him bleed.

  “Nothing is gonna save you.” Duke spat. “You’re doomed like the rest of us.”

  Suddenly exhausted of it all, Ridge strong-armed Duke out the side exit.

  “Hey, hey,” Duke protested.

  “I’ll drive him home,” Ranger said, joining Ridge, clutching Duke’s other arm. Together they dragged their father toward his Ford King Ranch pickup. Archer, Zeke, and Kip following close behind.

  Ranger held Duke by the shoulders, while Ridge dug the keys from his father’s pocket, Duke cussing and fighting them every inch of the way.

  Finally, Ridge got the keys free of Duke’s jeans pocket.

  His father raised his fist, swung wild, missed, spun, crashed into the side of truck, bounced off it, wheeled around and came after him again.

  Ridge didn’t want to fight his father, but if he didn’t do something the old fart was going to end up hurting himself.