Her Lone Cowboy

by Patricia Forsythe

  While he formed the hamburger patties—including an especially small one for Sam—she pulled down the husks, stripped the silks off the ears of corn, then took some of the outermost husks, split them into threes and braided them to make ties to hold the husks back in place. She laid them on the grill and turned to see Caleb watching her.

  “Wish I’d known that trick in Afghanistan,” he said, putting the patties he’d made beside the corn. There was an old laundry sink beside the back door, and Caleb scrubbed his hands there while he spoke. “We actually managed to get our hands on some corn one time, but we boiled it. It was okay.” One corner of his mouth lifted in a smile that tugged at her heart. “The real star of the meal was a hunk of roast beef that one of my soldiers, Berman, came up with.”

  Laney listened carefully as she sat at the picnic table, barely daring to breathe for fear he would stop talking, clam up again. He had never, ever, said anything personal before, and rarely anything about having been a soldier—or about Afghanistan.

  “We never did ask where he got it.” Caleb returned to the grill, closed the lid and stepped back. He lifted his head and stared out at the horizon.

  Laney knew he wasn’t thinking about this meal, but one he’d shared with his men in another time and place.

  “Usually it was better not to ask where Berman got some of the things he came up with. He could always convince people to trade with him even if they didn’t speak the same language. He could have conned an Eskimo into trading his last pair of long underwear for some tighty whiteys—in the middle of winter.”

  She laughed, but then he paused for so long, Laney thought he wasn’t going to say any more. But, finally, he did.

  “Roast beef,” he said, shaking his head. “We were out in a convoy...knew we’d be gone all day and into the night. There was no way we could cook that beef, at least not before it spoiled. With the heat over there, fresh meat doesn’t stay fresh very long. We had MREs...”

  “MREs?”

  Caleb glanced over at her as if he’d forgotten she was there, and Laney almost regretted breaking into his thoughts. “Meals Ready to Eat. Packaged meals we used when we were away from base. Some of them aren’t too bad.”

  She nodded, signaling for him to go ahead with his story.

  “We could have eaten those, but Berman wanted that beef. He was from Montana and from the way he talked, his family ate beef at every meal. He’d heard about a way to wrap up a piece of meat, tie it to the manifold of a truck and let the engine heat cook it, so that’s what he did.”

  “Wow. Did it work?”

  Caleb moved to the table and sat opposite her. Then he placed his hands on top of the table and laced his fingers together. She saw scars there, some probably from ranch work, but one that ran from his wrist to the knuckle of his little finger as if he’d been cut with something long, thin and deadly. If he’d realized she was looking at it, he probably would have put his hands under the table, but he wasn’t focused on her. His thoughts were far away.

  Indulging herself, she studied his face and felt her heart give an unaccustomed little flutter. He was a young man, only thirty, but his eyes held an experience of life that made him seem much older, which fascinated her. He wasn’t wearing the hat that usually shaded his face and Laney could see his facial scars clearly. But, again, it didn’t seem to bother him. She realized it was the most relaxed she’d seen him since the night they’d spent together at the hospital—and that tranquility had been drug-induced.

  “Yeah, it did,” he said in response to her question. “We smelled that meat cooking all day. Every time we stopped, he’d jerk up the hood of the truck to turn it over and see how it was doing, but of course it was wrapped up tight, so he couldn’t see anything. Attracted a lot of flies, though.”

  Laney chuckled. “I’ve heard of people cooking meat like that. So how’d it taste? Good?”

  “We finally got back to our FOB—um, forward operating base—cooked our corn, unwrapped that meat and got ready to dig in. The roast beef was perfectly cooked—and tasted exactly like engine exhaust with a delightful hint of crank case oil.”

  Laney burst out laughing. “What a disappointment!”

  “Not to Berman. He was convinced it was delicious and started coming up with other things we could cook that way. He thought goat’s meat cooked by that method would be absolutely delicious. It was easy to obtain there.”

  “Sounds awful. Where’s Berman now? Still in the army?”

  Caleb went very still. The softness in his expression hardened and his hands tensed. Then he stood and returned to the grill, grabbing a pair of tongs to turn the corn and nudge the hamburger patties to test for doneness.

  He didn’t have to answer. She knew something bad had happened to Berman and she wondered how many others of Caleb’s soldiers had been wounded or killed. He didn’t need to tell her that he still carried the pain—and, probably, guilt.

  They didn’t speak again until the food was ready. She hustled Sam inside to use the bathroom and wash his hands. When they returned, she saw that Caleb had lit candles on the table.

  He met her surprised gaze with a shrug. “Citronella. To ward off the mosquitoes.”

  She smiled, wondering if she would ever understand this man. He had to struggle to accept help or even company—especially hers—but made accommodations for them, anyway.

  As they ate together, the talk flowed easily. Sam was delighted with the little hamburger she handed him. After he checked to make sure she hadn’t slipped in any pickles or onions, he showed it to Bertie, who was definitely interested. “Look, Bertie, it’s a little hangkupper,” he said.

  She looked over at Caleb. “How did you know to do that?”

  He shrugged. “He’s got small hands.”

  She laughed and realized she was over being annoyed with him. As soon as Sam finished eating, he made to run off to play with Bertie once again. But he paused and turned back. “You amember you said I can work for you, Mr. Ransom?”

  “I remember.”

  “My mom said I have to wait’ll your leg gets better. Is it better?”

  “Yes, it is. Are you ready to start work?”

  “Yeah!”

  Laney noticed that Caleb carefully avoided looking at her when he said, “Okay. I’ll talk to your mom about it.”

  “Okay!” Sam rushed off with Bertie on his heels and the two of them darted around in the quickly falling dusk.

  When Laney was finished with her food, she said to Caleb, “He can’t actually work for you. You know that, right?”

  “Why not?” Caleb shifted on the bench, easing his leg out. “If nothing else, he can keep Bertie occupied, make him get some exercise.”

  “Won’t that interfere with Bertie’s busy napping schedule?”

  He grinned. “The hound will have to make the best of things.”

  She spread her hands wide. “What else would he be doing around here?”

  “I don’t know. Whatever I can think of.”

  She looked at him. He obviously didn’t know any more than she did, but maybe he was ready to have people around. Only two days ago he’d made it clear he didn’t want her here, but apparently that was no longer the case. She remembered what her brother had said—that she should be the one to understand that what people say they want and what they really want can be two very different things.

  Over the summer she’d asked herself many times why she was so drawn to Caleb. He’d been rude more than once, yet she’d convinced herself it was because of his circumstances, not his nature. She hoped she was right because she was drawn to him in a way she couldn’t understand and couldn’t explain. For some reason her feelings for him made her think of the morning glory vines that grew up and around her porch posts. Even though the vines had been ruthlessly cut back to control their growth
, they always came back, their sturdy tendrils ever climbing, encircling the posts, around and around, holding on firmly and producing their beautiful flowers—not that she expected any relationship she had with Caleb would produce something of beauty. Still...

  Bertie returned and flopped down beneath the table. Sam followed, lying on his stomach on the bench so he could pet Bertie. She reached over and rubbed her son’s back while she thought about Caleb’s idea. As far as she could tell, before he’d reinjured his leg, Caleb had been busy all the time, either with his cattle or his horses. And while it was true that he could use help, even the help of a four-year-old, and he probably would keep Sam with him every minute, he didn’t know how fast Sam could move when he became interested or distracted by something—like the filly named Awesome.

  And she kept remembering that mountain lion. It had been captured and relocated to another area, but she knew there were always other dangers lurking, waiting for her curious little boy.

  As if he’d read her thoughts, Caleb said, “You’re welcome to come, too—make sure he’s okay. And you’re here every couple of days, anyway, taking me to therapy.”

  She met his gaze. Darkness was falling and she couldn’t read his expression very well, but he seemed to be... Content, she decided. It wasn’t something she’d seen in him in all the weeks she’d known him, and it was probably very fleeting. That she’d played a big part in this contentment filled her with pleasure.

  “All right, then. A couple of mornings a week, he can come over and help you out, after we get back from town.”

  He nodded agreement and suggested they go check on the cat trap.

  “Let’s get the dishes cleaned up first,” Laney said.

  He shook his head. “I’ll take care of them later.”

  Laney stood. As she looked down, she saw that Sam had fallen asleep on the bench while petting Bertie.

  Caleb came around the table to see her son sprawled bonelessly, deeply asleep.

  “Should we wake him?” Caleb asked.

  “Don’t even bother trying. Once he’s asleep, he’s down for the night. Nothing could wake him up.” She started to reach for Sam, but Caleb stopped her.

  “I’ve got this,” he said, lifting Sam easily and holding him against his shoulder.

  “But your leg...”

  “Don’t worry. I’m pretty steady.”

  Her little boy sighed and snuggled his face against Caleb’s neck.

  A look flashed across Caleb’s face that Laney couldn’t quite decipher. It was a combination of surprise and tenderness and something else she’d never seen there before. Quiet joy, maybe?

  Eyes downcast, Caleb raised his big, work-toughened hand and rested it on her son’s vulnerable back.

  A lump lodged in her throat and a warm feeling flowed through her at the picture they made. Carrying Sam, Caleb turned away, heading for the barn. She followed slowly, watching the way Caleb adjusted his gait to compensate for the additional thirty-five pounds he was carrying. He held Sam tightly, though, and she knew that if he was in danger of stumbling, he would fall on his wounded leg before he would let Sam hit the ground.

  “He takes care of things,” she murmured to herself. “And he tries to make them right. But he’s been hurt while doing that and that’s why he’s wary.”

  Laney realized that if she wasn’t very careful, she could fall in love with this man.

  Inside the barn they saw that luck was finally on their side. The cat trap held a very angry mama cat, which hissed at them and clawed at the wire mesh that kept her captive.

  “Success,” Laney said happily. She then looked at her sleeping son and frowned. “I had planned to take the cat to Don’s office tonight, and I have to stop by my mom and dad’s house for something Mom’s being very mysterious about, but says will change my life. I don’t want to take Sam all the way to town and back.” She looked doubtfully at the cat trap. “But I don’t really want to keep her in this thing overnight.”

  “If you want, I’ll go with you to your place first, and you can drop me there with Sam. I’ll put him to bed. Meanwhile, you can take the cat to Don’s office and stop by your parents’. When you get back, I can walk home, so you don’t have to leave Sam alone. It’s not far if I stick to the road, and it won’t be too hard even with the brace.”

  “Well,” she said hesitantly, “if you don’t think it’ll be too much trouble.”

  “I guarantee you it’ll be a lot less trouble than that cat’s going to be.”

  Laney laughed. “Okay, then. It’ll take me about forty minutes,” she said hesitantly. She could only hope that the stop at her mom and dad’s would be a short one.

  “We’ll be all right.” Caleb carried Sam to her Jeep and strapped him in while Laney placed the cat carrier in the back.

  When she pulled into her drive, she stopped and said, “I won’t be long.”

  “I’ve got your cell number, Laney. We’ll be all right,” Caleb answered.

  She knew that was true so she unhooked her house key from her key ring and handed it to him. Within a few minutes Sam and Caleb were inside her home and she hurried off to town.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  HE HADN’T BEEN in her house before. It didn’t take Caleb long to carry a sleeping Sam into his room and put him to bed. He decided it wouldn’t hurt the kid to sleep in the shorts and T-shirt he’d worn all evening. He put him on his bed, pulled the sheet and a light blanket up over him, and then stood to watch him as he slept.

  There was perfect trust and innocence in the way Sam lay with his dark head against the pillow, its case emblazoned with his favorite superhero. Caleb couldn’t help wishing that superheroes were real, that they could protect little boys from harm, from the villains and monsters that roamed the earth.

  Because he’d been trained to check out his environment for potential threats as well as assets, Caleb looked around the room. The kid really was crazy about cowboys. Cowboy items were everywhere—hats, boots, ropes, even a branding iron, which hung on the wall.

  “Funny kid,” he said quietly. Most boys his age were into video games, space aliens, dinosaurs, but this one liked cowboys, even though his sheets were printed with superheroes. There probably hadn’t been any sheets with cowboys on them. Caleb saw that there was a cowboy boot-style nightlight plugged into a socket, so he switched it on, pulled the bedroom door closed most of the way, and went into the living room.

  He wandered around, looking at the books on Laney’s shelves, mostly biographies and social histories with a few historical romances thrown in. Family pictures crowded the top of the bookcase and covered the walls, most of them featuring Sam. He studied them, a smile curving his mouth, and decided his favorite was one taken when Sam was about a year old. Laney stood behind him, holding both of her son’s little hands as she looked up at the camera. The love and pride in her face drew Caleb to the picture, reached right in and squeezed his heart. He analyzed the feeling and decided it wasn’t pain. It was longing.

  Not willing to give any more thought to it, he turned and surveyed the rest of the room.

  His place could only be described as Spartan, he thought. It had only the barest of furnishings, some of which had come with the house. He hadn’t really cared what the furniture was like. He’d been glad to have a place of his own. A place where no one knew him, could pity him. A place where he could focus on his cattle, become a hermit.

  Laney liked comfort, though. She had a sofa with big, puffy pillows to cushion the back, and a matching chair with an ottoman. He knew she’d be a little while getting back and that chair looked awfully inviting, although there was always the possibility he wouldn’t be able to get out of it once he got in. He was willing to risk it, though.

  He lowered himself into the chair and stretched his legs out on the ottoman, using a small pillo
w to support his right knee. It immediately relieved the pressure on his hip and he sank into comfort. Leaning his head back, he closed his eyes and let the silence engulf him. He drifted off to sleep thinking how peaceful Laney’s house was. There were no demons here.

  * * *

  LANEY STRUGGLED UP the steps of her house and onto the back porch. She set the huge pot down and massaged the place on her back where she was sure she’d pulled something important.

  “A banana tree,” she muttered for the umpteenth time, shaking her head in amazement. “This is what’s going to change my life?”

  She smiled, recalling how overjoyed her mom had been when she had given it to her. Vivian was so excited about being able to grow something that she wanted to share the wealth with the entire family.

  Deciding it could wait until tomorrow to change her life, Laney went inside. She didn’t know why she was surprised at the gift. She’d known her mom was ordering more of the plants. Of course she’d give one to her daughter.

  Crossing the kitchen, she stopped in the doorway when she saw Caleb sprawled in her chair. She approached slowly, hoping not to startle him, but his eyes flew open as soon as she stepped into the room. He watched as she approached and scooted his legs over so she could sit on the ottoman.

  “Get the cat delivered okay?” he asked around a yawn. With his hands resting on the arms of the chair, his head back and hair tousled, he looked relaxed and content. He made such an appealing picture that Laney had to glance away.

  “Yes, and she has no idea what’s going to happen to her tomorrow, poor thing.”

  “Maybe it’ll improve her disposition.”

  “We can only hope.” She looked around. “Is Sam okay?”

  “Yup. Didn’t even stir when I put him to bed. I left him in his shorts and T-shirt. That okay?”

  She nodded, and now she allowed her gaze to rest on him. His hair was messy from contact with the chair back, his eyes were tired, but his smile was...soft, she decided, as if he didn’t have to be on guard.