by BL Craven
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Protecting What’s Mine
A Western Romance
BL Craven
Copyright © 2017 Boyd Craven III, Writing as BL Craven
Protecting What’s His
By BL Craven
Many thanks to friends and family for keeping me writing!
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Contents
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
Chapter 15
About the Author
Chapter One
Oh shit. I knew I was in for trouble when Bill Masterson himself met me at the airport. For a time, he’d been my stepfather. For, like, all of two years? My mother’s marriage had dissolved, mainly because of—me.
“Cam, how’re you doing?” Bill asked, his hand outstretched to shake mine.
I considered the gesture, remembering every argument, the old anger rising up inside me. I wasn’t a boy any more, and it had been ten years since my mother and I had left the ranch. But here I was. Again. Bill looked the same, the years had done little to age the tall rancher. If anything, there were a few more lines around his eyes. He essentially looked the same. Blue jeans, cowboy boots, his usual plaid shirt buttoned up most of the way, the cuffs rolled up to his elbows. For a moment, I tried to see if I had any trace of anger left but came up empty.
“Good,” I said and took his hand, trying to fake a genuine smile.
“Me too. That all you got?” he asked, motioning to my duffel.
“I don’t have anything left of my civilian life. Not anymore,” I told him simply.
I’d spent the last six years in the U.S. Army, 10th Mountain Division. I couldn’t get away from the ranch and the southwestern United States fast enough. I had too much anger, too many issues; many of them were actually my fault. My entire adult life from the age of eighteen had been out of the country.
My mother gave me one last hug and words of disapproval before I shipped out. Water under the bridge, I had thought. About six months ago, I got a letter saying she had moved back to the same sleepy little town in Utah where Bill lived. Without jumping to conclusions, I didn’t think it was much of a coincidence.
I was right.
“Well, what about a hat? Your hair’s so short, yer riskin’ sunburn.”
“Naw, I’ve spent so much time in the desert. Not going to get any darker.”
“I can see you’re tan, but we’re close to the mountains...”
“Okay, Bill, got a spare?”
“No, but let’s get you squared away first, then I’ll take you shopping.”
I groaned inwardly, not letting my annoyance show. I literally had no clue why my mom wanted me to fly home, but I was pretty sure that Bill and my mother were about to tie the knot.
Again.
For a moment, I thought about Alison, Bill’s daughter. When we left, she was a twelve-year-old Attila the Hun. She was difficult, to say the least. It was her way or the highway. She was a dark-haired girl with pimples, who’d delighted in making my life difficult. I hadn’t seen her in years and darkly wondered if she looked like her favored horse, Blueballs.
Although Alison usually just called him Blue, she really had named her horse Blueballs. He was a blue roan with the weirdest pattern on his hind flanks. But the crude name fit the wild girl. Unlike Alison, I liked the horse.
“Sounds good. How’s Alison doing?” I voiced the question, trying to make small talk.
“Dating a jackass. Wish you would talk to her.”
“What about?”
“How badly I don’t want to go to jail, but will if I have to.” Giving me a meaningful look, he opened the door to his white Ford F-150.
“He’s that bad of a jack hole?” I asked, reverting to language I had used when I was much younger, to avoid the calloused backhand of memory.
“Worse, he’s a fucking idiot.”
That got my attention; Bill never swore. My curiosity meter waved into the red zone.
What was this trip about?
Chapter Two
“Momma?” I called out, looking around the foyer of Bill’s house. I knew it! I knew it! They were getting back together.
“Yes, dear, in the living room.”
It had been six years since she’d seen me off; and I’d traveled all over the world since. I’d been in intense warfare in three different countries, and helped carry out the wounded and the dead. I wasn’t a badass, but I wasn’t a crybaby either.
But dealing with my mom? Sweat pooled under my arms, and my chest tightened. I was feeling a healthy dose of fear for the first time in forever. I entered and saw her with her head buried in a trunk, stacks of photo albums littering the floor on either side of her legs.
“Momma, what are you doing?” I asked, unable to stop the smile that tugged on the corners of my cheeks. I’d missed her more than I’d realized.
She turned, broke out into a grin, and quickly rose, giving me a long level look before rushing to squeeze me in a bone-crushing embrace. I put my arms around her, and realized in all the time I was gone, Mom had shrunk. Or I’d just got bigger.
Guilt washed over my conscience for not writing back enough or not calling when I could. My eyes leaked around the edges, and Mom’s grip tightened for a moment before she released me, wiping her eyes.
“It’s great to have you back here.”
“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” I told her truthfully, not caring about her status with Bill. Right now, I could let every moment of anger from my past float away.
“I was worried that you’d be too busy, or...”
“No, Mom, when you save up enough leave like I have, it isn’t all that bad. I used it all up, and I’m out.”
“Out?”
“Finished. Done with the Army,” I told her with a smile.
She rubbed my arm a minute, grinning like a fool.
“You’ve grown.”
“Either that or you got smaller.”
“Cameron!” she exclaimed in mock anger, and playfully swatted at my shoulder. “Besides, I wanted you here for the news.”
“News?” I knew what was coming. I had to let go of any annoyance or anger, especially with Mom by my side.
“Bill and I have been back together for a couple of years now and...” Her voice trailed off, and she took a couple of steps back so she could look me in the eye. “And we’ve decided to adopt a baby.”
Adopt? Back together a couple of years? I mentally flipped through the letters my mom had sent to me. None of them had mentioned this.
“Wow, Mom, that’s great news.” I swallowed the surprise in my throat. “When does it happen? Is the kid anybody I’d know?”
“No, it’s a baby from China. The adoption is happening in a week, so we ha
ve to fly out again to pick her up. We’d like you to be around next week when we get back. We’re going to have a party, and all of my old friends will be coming out. You will be around next week, won’t you?”
“Yeah,” I told her. My confusion was mixed with shock and a touch of happiness. I didn’t know what to say so I sat down next to her.
“Good, then you’ll be ready for the wedding ceremony, which is tomorrow. We’ve been married on paper a year, but held off on the reception until we knew you could be here.” She turned and put the albums back into the trunk.
“Wedding?”
“Surprise!” I could hear the smile in her voice, and I almost fell over.
“Wow!” I’d guessed at their reunion, and I’d read every letter faithfully, even writing back when I could. But a wedding? Tomorrow? The announcement floored me.
“Bill has your outfit picked out. Maybe you and Ali can help us by picking some stuff up while you are getting fitted.”
“Wedding?” I asked again. Things had progressed too fast for me to process.
“Seriously, Cameron. Try to be happy for me, can’t you?” Mom didn’t hide her hint of annoyance.
“I’ve been gone forever, Momma, and this is a lot to process all at once. Why didn’t you tell me about it before?”
“How would you have taken it?” She rubbed my arm for a second before handing me a book.
“Not too well, I guess. It’s just such a shocker.”
“I know it is. Here, take this photo album to the kitchen for me. I’m making a board with old and new pictures for the reception. Oh, and find Ali so you two can run into town.”
“Sure, Mom. Can I use one of the trucks?” At least two or three of the pickups I’d seen coming into the ranch must belong to her or Bill, with the rest left to the ranch hands.
“Oh, that’s the other surprise.” She dug into her pocket and pulled out an old key ring, one I hadn’t seen since I’d pressed them into her hands the day I shipped out.
It was my Jeep key. A wave of nostalgia washed through me. I thought she had sold it.
“Where is Alison?” I asked, putting the key in my pocket.
“Probably the barn, or back by the horse stables. Ask Jackson if you can’t find her.”
“Jackson’s still around?”
“As old and ornery as ever.”
I laughed and hugged her hard before dropping the album off, and walking out of the ranch house.
Chapter Three
On most ranches, the main barn sat close to the house, but not at Bill’s place. The Masterson ranch house was the newer house on the property, constructed after the old one had burned down when Bill was just a kid.
Instead of building on the charred remains, they’d dug a new foundation, drilled a well, and placed the main house on the hill, overlooking the valley. The view of the mountains in the distance had always captivated me as a kid.
As I walked outside and gazed around the familiar place, I wondered what had caused my anger as a kid; my father dying young, or my Mom dating and marrying Bill within a year of his burial and moving us here.
I had never given them a chance together. My anger had always lurked just under the surface, sabotaging everything in sight. My body had changed, but my anger hadn’t.
During my time away, I’d done a lot of growing. With the passage of time and, tempered by some of the things I’d seen, I’d accepted that my childhood here, as short as it was, wasn’t horrible.
I walked to the horse stables and enjoyed the feeling of long grass brushing my legs as I strayed off the worn path. A horse that had been running with another along the fence line stopped dead and stared at me, approaching with curiosity.
“Blue?”
He chuffed air out of his nose and took off toward the barn. In theory, I knew Blue would still be here, but seeing him unchanged over the span of years made me smile. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same.
Despite the increasing use of trucks and ATVs, horses and riding would remain a part of the Western tradition. Any self-respecting cowboy rode a horse. I hadn’t added ‘cowboy’ to my resume yet, but I understood how things worked out here.
New siding and steel roofing panels spruced up the barn. I tapped on the siding, feeling how solid the structure was underneath it, and opened the door. The strong smell of horse and dung hit my nose, but I recognized other subtle smells that many folks would miss. Hay, sweet feed, and molasses stirred in the air with an occasional sharp tang of ammonia mixed in.
Although unpleasant to some, the familiar aromas existed as part of life here. I walked down the center aisle, counting all the troughs that separated the walkway from where the horses came in from the outside. Blue waited for me at stall number seven, just like always.
“Hey, fella, you haven’t changed much, have ya?” I asked, giving his nose a good rub. “Where’s little sister gone off to?”
Of course, I didn’t expect an answer while talking to the roan. I walked to the galvanized trash can at the center of the barn. I smiled as I opened the old grain storage bin, and got out a small handful of sweet feed. I held my palm out, trying not to flinch when Blueballs ate it. The rough surface of his big tongue barely missed any seed as he lapped the feed in.
“Ewww. You slimed me,” I laughed, wiping my hand off on the side of his neck.
He chuffed at me again, obviously begging for more, but I didn’t know how much he’d had that day, and I didn’t have more treats. Maybe I’d bring him an apple back later, but first I had to find Alison.
I looked around the horse barn again. Half the stalls had filled with horses that came in from the fields, as they sensed the presence of a human who might feed them, and they were probably hoping to cage a treat like old Blue here. I patted Blue once again and headed out, walking to the hay barn.
I stayed on the trail this time, smiling as Blue and another horse paced me along the electric fence that separated them from the rest of the land. When their fence ended, they stood at the corner of the field, staring at me.
I gave them a half-hearted wave and looked ahead to the big red structure. As a sixteen-year-old, I had lugged hay into that barn, filling it top to bottom. It held hundreds of round rolls of hay, and even more of the smaller square bales.
Bill was somewhat modern, using tractors to stack and move the hay, with large forks to spear the round bales and take them to the field as needed. But manual labor had sculpted my body and hardened my muscles early on. Still, I appreciated the modern touches that made backbreaking work manageable.
This time of year, the barn would be mostly empty, since the harvest wouldn’t come for another couple of months. The empty space sheltered my Jeep, parked out of the way with other unused cars and trucks. Hopefully, it would start up. Lord knew how long it had been sitting. But knowing Bill, he had kept it in great shape, the same way he kept all of his vehicles.
The Jeep sat outside the main doors of the barn, its black paint gleaming in the sunshine. Other than a ding in the bumper, Bill had kept the Jeep flawless and wonderfully preserved. Sun-bleached fuzzy dice hung from the rearview mirror. I peeked inside the open window and noticed the recent detailing.
“Wow!” I reached in and gripped the steering wheel with one hand. My thoughts filled with memories revolving around that Jeep.
When I’d left for boot camp, I knew I wouldn’t be stateside long, as the nation had been at war or involved in some sort of armed conflict since I was in middle school. Leaving suited me, and if it got me away from the ranch, that suited me even better.
I didn’t need a car overseas, and paying for insurance or storage hadn’t made any sense. I’d handed the keys and title over to my mom, expecting her to sell it. Yet, here it was.
“Tim, I said stop!” A female voice broke the silence, and I heard a slap and a gasp from within the barn.
Training kicked in. Although unarmed and unaware of the full situation, I approached the door as I would any potent
ially hostile building. I entered low to make myself a smaller target, squinting and trying to force my eyes to adjust to the darker interior of the barn faster.
A broad-shouldered guy gripped a young woman by the shoulder. He tried to kiss her as she swung wildly with the arm that wasn’t trapped against her body. The top three buttons on her shirt were torn open, and a red mark rose on her left cheek. Tears brimmed on her lashes, ready to fall.
Checking my periphery, I made sure there was no one else about, and approached stealthily, walking as quietly but as quickly as I could. At the last moment, the woman saw me approach. Her eyes widened, and she quit struggling.
The guy must have thought the girl gave in. He pressed his lips against hers, and his hand relaxed in that moment. My fist crashed into his kidney.
His whole body clenched in pain as the woman tore her body out of his grip. Agony covered the guy’s face, and with a start, I realized he couldn’t be any older than a high school student in his senior year. Still, he had brought this trouble, and I’d already started the dance.
He took half a second and looked at me, sizing me up. Judging opponents by their looks could be deceptive and downright stupid in a fight. I knew he was taking in my lanky six-foot frame and wondering if his bigger bulk could overpower me.
Within a heartbeat, he decided that it could. He swung a haymaker, counting on putting me out. I’d had insurgents jump into the foxhole with me that had more power and finesse than this loser.
I ducked from his wild swing. Off balance with his right side exposed to me, I punched him hard in the gut, and he doubled over. A quick knee to the face put him down hard on his back.
“Don’t kill him,” the woman begged from behind me as I had my boot poised over his stomach ready to stomp his ribs.