Love Me Some Cowboy

by Lisa Mondello

She couldn't speak. Instead, she clapped a hand over her mouth and nodded, fighting a sharp, near overwhelming bout of nausea.

  "If for some reason you'd chosen to detour into the woods, you'd have hit this same gorge there, too," he continued relentlessly. "The accident would've been avoidable, because the drop's more visible. Not that it matters. Because unless you'd decided to go back the way you came, eventually you would have returned here, on the only path that looks passable. Then you and the children would have ridden for a fall."

  She fought for breath. "I didn't know. I'm sorry," she gasped.

  "I believe you, Tex. But let me make one more point. What we're doing here," he swept his arm to encompass the surrounding territory, "isn't even true cowboy work. This is taking folks for a pleasant ride in the mountains. Cowboy work is much more. It involves dangerous animals and machinery and adverse weather conditions. It requires skill and care, and most important of all, thought."

  Cami bowed her head. "I admit to a lack in one or two of those areas."

  He muttered an unflattering comment. "The fact is, you're lacking in all those areas. Period. You don't think, Tex. And cowboys who don't think, don't live long enough to regret it. A wrangler has to be able to count on his fellow wranglers, has to trust them with his very life at times. I can't have someone I don't trust workin' for me. It's as simple as that."

  "Holt, please..."

  He didn't relent. "Your time for explanations is over. You stand here while I finish getting us packed. And you think about what I've said. We leave in five minutes." With that, he turned and stalked away.

  Cami stared at the yawning pit in front of her. She and the children could have been down there, hurt and broken. Or worse. And it would have been all her fault, because she'd been so hell-bent on proving her worth. Well, she'd done that, hadn't she?

  Holt was right. She didn't deserve to be a cowboy. Her chin wobbled. Deserve? Time to face facts. She wasn't a cowboy. Which left her with one option and only one option. She stiffened her spine. First things first. Time to face her mistakes.

  She whistled for Git and returned to camp, inspecting the site for anything they might have left behind. She checked whether Gary extinguished the fire properly and made certain to erase all evidence of their passing. A bit of plastic lay on the ground and she picked it up, shoving it in her pocket.

  "Shake a leg," Holt called. "We've several hours of riding to go."

  By midmorning, they arrived at the ranch, a happy, chattering group, all except for a silent, abashed Cami. Approaching the first of the cabins Holt drew to a stop.

  "You kids go ahead and let your folks know you're safe." He waited until they'd ridden off before addressing Cami. "If you'd rather, you can cut around the back way."

  For an instant, she didn't understand what he meant. Then hot color flooded her face. "I'm no coward," she stated fiercely. "I made a mistake and I'll own up to it." She kicked Petunia in the rump and trotted after the children, rejoining them just as they reached the barn.

  The parents came running from the ranch house, gathering around the children. Two of the mothers were crying. The fathers' faces were set in identical relieved yet weary lines. She doubted a single one had gotten any sleep. Remorse consumed her.

  "Excuse me, folks," she spoke in a loud, clear voice. They turned and looked at her, their expressions ranging from anger to suspicion.

  "Are you the girl who got our kids lost?" Katie Sue's mother demanded.

  Holt reined in beside her, but she pointedly ignored him. "I am. And I'd like to offer my most sincere apologies. I'd also like to assure you that Mr. Winston had no idea I'd taken on such a huge responsibility. And he'd never have approved, if he had known. I hope you won't hold him accountable since it was entirely my own doing. I have no excuse—" She shrugged. "Leastwise none that would make anyone any happier about this whole, unfortunate situation. But I do regret my actions. I'm sorry."

  "Don't be mad, Mommy," Katie Sue said, tugging at the woman's arm. "We had fun. I want to do it again."

  The unexpected statement brought quick laughter and helped ease some of the tension. Holt took advantage of the temporary lull. "If anyone has any questions or concerns, you address them to me." He glanced at Cami and murmured. "Go take care of the horses, Tex. The sooner you're out of sight, the sooner this will blow over."

  Obediently Cami led the animals into the barn and set to work. No need to hurry. Only one other job remained—to talk to her mother. And that could wait a little longer. An hour later, she crossed to the ranch house. She expected to find Charlotte in an absolute panic and weeping buckets. Instead Cami found her mother calmly discussing wedding cakes with Agnes.

  "Momma, may I speak to you for a minute?"

  "Back from your little escapade, are you?" Agnes said, slapping closed her cookbook. "Half the town's been callin' for updates. I told 'em you were probably dead at the bottom of some gulch and good riddance."

  "Thank you."

  The housekeeper snorted. "They didn't believe me, neither. They're on their way, you know. I think they're hopin' to see a lynchin'."

  "They probably will."

  Agnes's eyes narrowed and she planted her hands on her hips. "You realize what their comin' means, don't you? It means I'll have to brew up gallons of coffee. Everyone was up so late worryin' about you, they're plumb tuckered out this morning."

  "You could just shoot me and save everyone a lot of misery," Cami suggested.

  "Well, I... Well, now," the housekeeper sputtered, and turned to Charlotte. "Call the doc, Charlie. The girl's sick as a gut-swollen mule."

  "I don't need a doctor. I need to talk." She managed a smile. "Momma, could we?"

  Her mother stood and linked arms. "Why don't we go to my room?" she suggested. "I'll return shortly, Agnes. But I really would appreciate it if you'd consider the strawberry whipped icing."

  "I'll consider it," Agnes said pleasantly enough, before muttering beneath her breath, "when hell freezes over."

  "You had everyone very upset," Charlotte remarked, stepping into her bedroom and closing the door behind them.

  "Yes, Momma, I know. I'm sorry about that." She should just stamp the words on her forehead and be done with it.

  "I knew, of course, that you'd be perfectly safe," her mother continued, clearly pleased with herself. "After all, cowboying is in your blood, as you've reminded me so many times."

  Cami groaned to hear her own words parroted back. She climbed onto the bed, hugging her knees to her chest. "I've changed my mind about that. I'm afraid the Greenbush cowboying gene must have skipped a generation or something." She looked up at Charlotte, tears filling her eyes. "Oh, Momma, I've been such a fool. I've hurt Holt and I've jeopardized those poor kids and upset their parents and gotten the whole town in a tizzy. And for what?"

  "So you could prove to Holt you're a cowboy and worth hanging on to."

  "So I could—" She broke off and stared at her mother. "You know?"

  "I think most of Lullabye has it figured out by now." She slanted her daughter a teasing look. “It might have something to do with the two of you sneaking off to steal a few moonlit kisses. Everyone pretends not to notice, but of course we all do.”

  Cami nodded. "Naturally."

  Charlotte sat down and put an arm around her daughter, giving her a tender hug. "Oh, sweetie, it's not that bad. Has Holt fired you?"

  "Not in so many words. But he was so mad he had trouble even speaking." She dropped her chin to her knees. "Give him time."

  "Trust me. If Holt Winston hasn't found the words yet, he's never going to. You made a little mistake. He'll forgive you and everything will be back to normal."

  Cami shook her head. "You don't understand. All these years, I've been kidding myself. But I'm finally facing reality. I'm no cowboy. I never was. Hell's bells. After this latest fiasco, I don't even deserve to be Texan."

  Charlotte stiffened. "Oh, dear," she murmured faintly.

  Cami frowned. "You've
gone all white and funny looking. What's wrong?"

  Her mother's arm slid away and she twisted her diamond engagement ring. "It...it seemed harmless enough at the time."

  "What seemed harmless enough at the time?" Cami asked, bewildered.

  "I mean, your daddy was a Texan and if we hadn't been visiting my mother at the time, and if I hadn't gotten my dates mixed up...” She shot Cami an apologetic glance. “It seemed so important to you, that I didn't have the heart to tell you the truth."

  A horrible, impossible, distressing suspicion took hold. Cami swallowed. "Tell me what, Momma?"

  "You aren't precisely a Texan. Legally, I mean," Charlotte confessed. "You were born in Richmond. But...but that's okay, isn't it? I mean your father was a Texan, so that has to count, doesn't it? It makes you a sort of Texan, right? A step-Texan or half Texan or something?"

  "Not...” She fought to draw air. Somehow the room had run out. “I’m not...?"

  "Camellia? Sweetheart?" Her mother's voice rose. "Cami? Are you okay?"

  "I think I'm going to be sick."

  It felt as though the bottom had fallen out of her world. All this time she'd believed herself a cowboy and a Texan. She'd thought ranching flowed through her veins. She'd been so certain that with a little practice her natural born skills would come to the fore. Now she understood why they never had. What a fool she'd been. Holt had been right all along.

  It took every scrap of willpower to stand. "I have to leave now."

  Her mother jumped up, wringing her hands. "What precisely do you mean by leave? Go to your room? Is that what you mean?"

  "Yep. I'm going to my room now. The one in Richmond." She squared her shoulders. "I'm here under false pretenses. And I'm honor bound to correct that. I'll pack my bags and leave. It'll save everyone a lot of trouble."

  "Now, Camellia, there's no sense in doing anything rash."

  Cami shook her head, blinking back tears. "Don't you see, Momma? Ever since I was a little girl I thought I was a cowboy. When somebody asked me my name, I'd tell them I was Cami from Texas, a natural born cowboy."

  "You can still be that," Charlotte protested.

  "No. I can't. Because none of it's true. I'm not a cowboy. I'm not even..." Her chin wobbled. "I'm not even Texan. I'm not quite sure what I am, but I strongly suspect I'm some sort of flowering shrub." She wiped her cheeks, surprised to find her hands damp with tears. "That's going to take a bit of gettin' used to. Maybe when I introduce myself I can say, 'Hi, I'm Camellia Greenbush. Just plant me anywhere.' So long as it isn't near cows or ropes or horses or anything dangerous." Or anyone she loved. She seemed to have an uncanny knack for hurting them, too.

  "Sweetheart—"

  "It's okay, Momma." Cami gave her mother a swift hug. "I'll get over it." She forced out a watery laugh. "It's not like no one warned me. Holt's been trying to set me straight ever since I got here."

  "Don't leave."

  Cami bowed her head. "I have to," she whispered. "I can't live a lie. And I can't put Holt and the A-OK at risk. Because that's just what I'm doing." She looked her mother dead in the eye. "But I'm glad you found Frank and put your fears to rest. He's a good man and I know you'll be happy living on a ranch again. I'll be back for the wedding. I promise."

  There wasn't anything left to say. Cami gave her mother a final hug. Before she could change her mind, she ran from the room.

  * * *

  "WELL, HOLT," WES said with a laugh. "You've been a mite busy lately, haven't you?"

  "And then some," Holt acknowledged with a grin.

  "Cami sure keeps things jumpin'. Ain't that so, Lem?"

  "Aw, Tex is the sweetest gal in the world. Look at how she pitched in to set my store to rights. You know what it is? It's that smile of hers. Friendly, open, kind."

  "Naw," Gabby said, yanking on his mustache and scowling. "It's those dang dimples. The way they wink at you is enough to drive a man loco."

  "Or those eyes. Bluest I've ever seen."

  Frank grinned. "And what about those bitty freckles? Ever tried to count 'em?"

  "Never you mind those bitty freckles," Holt interrupted. After all, a man could only allow his friends so much liberty.

  Reverend Sam folded his arms across his chest. "I suggest you rope that filly to you good and proper before some varmint gets the notion to steal her away."

  Hoots of laughter greeted his remark.

  "Laugh all you want," Charlotte interrupted, elbowing her way into the group. "But no one's going to get the chance to steal her, because she's left. Hitched a ride to town with Katie Sue's momma."

  Holt stuck his thumbs in his belt and rocked back on his heels. "Did she now?"

  "Thirty minutes ago," Charlotte confirmed. "She's leaving. For good. Packed her bags and everything. See?" She pointed to Git sitting beside the corral fence, a rope in his mouth. He whined pitifully. "She gave that dog her rope and told me to give you this."

  A befeathered pink cowboy hat hung from her fingertips.

  Holt froze.

  Suddenly he saw before him a choice, a choice as clear and as different as wrong from right. He could continue on the way he always had, protecting his ranch, his way of life and his heart. In his mind's eye he could see it happen, see the uniformed days lined up, stretching before him with a comforting sameness. Along this path, the familiar rhythm of his life would resume, like the rhythm of spring into summer and autumn into winter. And he'd be alone.

  Or he could have Cami. Cami in his arms and in his bed. Cami at his side, regardless of what life threw at them. Cami, forever his. And along that path lay hope and laughter and joy, and a love so strong it near stole his breath. There was only one catch. Treading that path meant trusting a city slicker. Trusting her with his ranch, but most risky of all, trusting her with his heart.

  And in that moment, he realized there was no real choice. Only one would ever be right for him.

  "Thirty minutes ago, you say?" he demanded.

  Charlotte nodded. "She plans to catch the noon train."

  "The noon train!" Wes exclaimed. "It's eleven-thirty now. You'll never catch her in time."

  "We'll see about that." He snatched Cami's hat from Charlotte and ran for his horse. Grabbing Loco's reins, he vaulted aboard.

  "You're wasting your time," Frank called. "No one's ever made that ride in under thirty-five minutes."

  Holt leveled a gimlet-eyed stare at his friend and crushed his hat low on his forehead. "Watch me!"

  With that he wheeled Loco around, slammed his heels in the horse's flanks. They shot down the drive toward town at the speed of light, the sound of thundering hoof beats echoing in their wake. He cut across the pasture and vaulted the gate, never once breaking stride. And with that, he disappeared over the ridge atop his fiery horse, disappearing in a cloud of dust.

  “Hi-Yo, Loco! Away!” drifted back on a stray breeze.

  Stunned silence reigned. Then, “I’d be more impressed if I didn’t know that noon train never leaves on time,” Gabby muttered.

  * * *

  CAMI SAT SLUMPED in her seat, feeling downright naked without her hat. The train whistle blew, a long, forlorn sound. She heard the last call for boarding and closed her eyes, battling tears. This was it. The death of her dreams.

  Just then the door at the end of the train car crashed open. "You can't come in here!" she heard the conductor shout. "You need a ticket. I'll summon the police if you don't get off."

  Cami stiffened. It couldn't be. She opened an eye, risking a peek. And there he was.

  Holt strode down the aisle, swatting the conductor aside with no more effort than he would a pesky fly. He stopped by her seat. "Ma'am," he said, tipping his hat. "This your luggage?" He pointed to the suitcase on the floor.

  She straightened. "Yes. But what are you—" He grabbed her bag in one hand, her wrist in the other and yanked. "Stop it, Holt! You can't do this." She stared up at him uncertainly. "What precisely are you doing?"

  "Taking you off this t
rain."

  She nodded. "Just checking." Then, "Holt, I can't go back. I've made a mess of everything."

  "True." He started down the aisle, dragging her behind.

  "I'm no cowboy. I never was."

  "Also true."

  "Stop a minute, will you? I keep making mistakes."

  "Yep. And this was your biggest."

  She dug in her heels. "I'm just a city slicker who'll ruin your business if I stay."

  That stopped him. He spun in his tracks and dropped her suitcase to the floor. "Now there you're wrong. You might be the sorriest cowboy I ever did see, and you might be the tryingest woman I ever did met. But you're also the sweetest and warmest and kindest. My guests love you. My employees love you. Hell, the whole town loves you."

  She stared up at him in wonder. "Really?"

  "Really." He cleared his throat, his voice gruff. "Besides, you can't leave. You've got a contract to honor. And real cowboys always honor their commitments."

  "But I'm not a real cowboy. You said so yourself." She suddenly remembered and tears filled her eyes. "Oh, Holt. I'm not even Texan!"

  "Not Texan?" He frowned. "Since when? Who says?"

  "Since this morning." She hung her head in shame. "Momma says I was really born in Richmond."

  "Well, shoot." He kicked at her suitcase. "Aw, turn off the waterworks, Tex... Cami. Now that you live in Colorado, consider yourself a... a..."

  She peeked up. "Colorado-er?"

  He shrugged, nonplussed. "Beats me. I guess that's as good a name as any." He turned to the spectators watching with fascination from their seats. "Folks, I'd like you to meet Colorado Cami, an honest-to-goodness cowboy."

  "Nice to meet you, Colorado. A pleasure, Cami," voices called.

  Holt nodded in satisfaction. "Now it's official, C.C. Can we go?"

  "C.C.?"

  "Colorado Cami, of course."

  She tried to control the hope blossoming to life. "You really want me back?"

  "I can't force you," he replied. "But if you're that intent on leaving, you'd best take this." He swept off his hat and dropped it into her hands.

  She stared at him in shock. "But...but a cowboy never gives up his hat."