Tougher in Texas

by Kari Lynn Dell

  Shawnee smiled. “You’re welcome. I think so, too.”

  “You’re almost as cool as my mommy. Or Tori, if you had your own jet. And Uncle Cole likes kissing you.” He heaved a disappointed sigh. “I wish you could have babies, so you could get married and I could ride Roy all the time.”

  Shawnee sucked in a breath that was like a spear through Cole’s gut.

  “What are you talking about?” he demanded. “Of course she can have babies.”

  Beni shrunk from Cole’s sharp words. “But Mommy said she had an operation—”

  Cole turned on Shawnee, icy shock radiating from the point of impact and frosting his words. “What does he mean? What kind of operation?”

  “A hysterectomy,” she said flatly. “My second year of college, when Violet and I were roommates.”

  “A hyst—” He couldn’t even force out the rest of the word, as the icy burn crawled up into his chest, sending needle-sharp spikes into his heart.

  Her gaze remained level, her voice stony. “I had a cyst that destroyed my right ovary, so I told them to go ahead and take the left one while they were at it.”

  Just. . . take it. Like it was a hangnail. A minor inconvenience. Even as a part of his mind warned that he was being irrational, that he had no right, that she’d tried to tell him and he’d chosen not to listen, he heard himself saying, “You just decided, That’s it. I’m never having kids? You didn’t stop to consider that someday you might meet someone who wanted a family?”

  “I considered a lot of things.” She bared her teeth, snarling back at him. “Like how after all the chemo and crap, my baby-making odds were in the crapper with two ovaries. And how I should probably consider minimizing the number of body parts that might try to kill me someday. And that I shouldn’t pass these lousy genes down to some poor kid, anyway. And if you’re wondering about these…” She hefted one boob in her palm. “Yes, I’ve considered getting rid of them, too, given the chances it’s gonna happen anyway. But I’m afraid the scar tissue would screw up my roping. Because yeah, I’m that obsessed. Just like my old man. So consider yourself lucky that you dodged this bullet.”

  Cole and Beni sat in stunned silence as she kicked Salty up and trotted out the gate and into the shadows beyond the arena lights. Cole was vaguely aware that he should follow and say…or do…or…something. But he was shaking. Tremors that started deep, deep in his core, the fissures radiating through his soul. That picture he’d been carrying around in his head—the little girl with Shawnee’s grin and her wild hair—curled up like an old, fragile newspaper clipping and crumbled into dust. The shock was so intense it was as if a real person had died.

  “I didn’t mean to make her mad. I heard Mama and Aunt Lily talking…” Beni sniffed, tears welling in his eyes. “Mama keeps telling me I shouldn’t repeat everything the grown-ups say. I have to tell Shawnee I’m sorry.”

  Beni clucked at Roy and went after her. Cole couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Five minutes ago his world had been a shiny, happy place, full of hopes and plans and dreams, and now…

  Now it had gone dark and empty, as suddenly as if someone had killed the arena lights. He could still hear the voices of the cowboys, feel Hammer shifting impatiently beneath him and tugging at the reins, but it was all drowned out by memories. Distant, muffled screams inside his head.

  No! No! No! You’re lying. They can’t be gone.

  But his family had been taken from him then. And the one he’d manufactured in his head had been ripped away now. He had to go after her. Didn’t he? But then…what? He had no list. No rehearsed dialogue for this scene. If he went to her now, he would only make it worse.

  If worse was even possible.

  Chapter 40

  Shawnee trotted all the way to Cole’s trailer, ignoring everyone who spoke to or looked at her. Go. Go now. Go fast. As long as she kept moving, she could outrun the roaring, swirling tornado of emotions bearing down on her. Once it swallowed her up…

  She bailed off Salty, yanked blindly at the cinches, and threw the saddle in the tack room, then tossed her chaps in on top. Let Cole put them where he wanted, the son of a bitch. He had no right to tell her…

  She flung Salty’s bridle in after the saddle, replaying what he’d said, using each and every word to fan the flames. Anger would keep her moving. Get her gone enough to be out of sight before she ran out of fuel for the fire.

  “I’m sorry,” a small voice said behind her.

  She whirled around to find Beni, his eyes wide and dark, tears dribbling down his cheeks. Oh, dammit.

  “I didn’t mean to make you sad,” he said, choking on a sob.

  “I’m fine.” She had to soften her voice, wipe the rage from her face, and the flames flickered. Threatened to die. “What you said was true, and I was planning to tell Cole tonight anyway. You just saved me the trouble.”

  Beni gave a huge sniff. “Are you sure?”

  “Yep. Now you’d better go find Joe while I get that saddle off of Roy. He’s ready for some grain.”

  Beni was more than happy to make himself scarce, thank God. She heaved his saddle onto the pile and all but ran for her trailer, Roy trotting along behind. She tied him up, then scrambled around, rolling and securing the awning, tossing the lawn chairs aside for Cole to gather in the morning.

  Inside, she heaped the coffeepot and spare dishes in the sink and flipped the switch for the slide-out. As it slowly retracted, she all but tore off her blue shirt and yanked on the first thing that came to hand, a grubby, wrinkled tank top from that morning’s horse training session. Sooner was really coming along, and it was amazing how well Cole—

  She slammed the closet door on that thought, wadded her hair up in a ball at the back of her head and strangled it with a ponytail holder. That oughta hold it for about five minutes.

  Five more minutes was all she needed.

  Outside, she dropped the blue shirt on top of a lawn chair, grabbed Sooner’s halter from the tack room, and strode to his stall, trying to look purposeful instead of panicked. The saddle horses were in a barn separate from where the bucking stock was penned, so she was able to retrieve the sorrel and hustle back to the trailer without tripping over any of the crew. She didn’t see Cole’s massive shape jostling through the post-rodeo commotion, searching for her. He’d obviously learned everything he needed to know out in the arena. The bastard.

  She jumped Roy into the trailer, latched the divider, and sent Sooner in behind him. Almost there. Just double-check the safety latches on the back door, grab that one bucket she’d left tied on the side of the trailer…

  “What are you doing?”

  Her heart crashed into her ribs. She spun around to find Cole standing beside the driver’s door of her pickup. No getting around him. No way to read his expression in the flickering shadows as the headlights of departing rigs swung over them.

  “Rodeo’s over.” She tossed the bucket in the bed of the truck. “Time to move on.”

  “You’re going now?”

  She put everything she had into a don’t-give-a-shit shrug. “No reason to hang around.”

  “It’s late. You’ll be alone. And I…we…” He made a helpless gesture. “You can’t just go.”

  “Actually, I can. As of about half an hour ago, I no longer work for you. I’m a free woman.”

  “Shawnee.” He reached out a hand, then let it fall. Another pair of headlights swung over them, throwing his face into stark relief, pain and desperation etched into every line. “I didn’t mean to…I don’t know what to say.”

  Well, there’s a shock. But the snide comment stuck in her throat. The fury she’d worked up died in a giant whoosh. All she had left was the pain. The guilt. She’d done this to both of them. Plowed ahead, knowing he wasn’t like the others. Cole and his damn list. What I want in a wife. And on the surface, she could check all the boxes. Loves
bucking stock. Good cook. Doesn’t care about football. Tolerates the damn dog.

  But number five was the kicker.

  She’d told him flat-out that she was never getting married. Wasn’t even sticking around after the end of the season. But she’d known, deep down, that he wasn’t listening. Cole had reckoned it all out in that rock-hard skull of his and concluded that it made sense. They made sense. She’d known he would. She knew him. The way he’d only thought he knew her.

  She wanted to press her hand over his heart to stop the bleeding, but she was the knife shoved between his ribs. “There’s nothing to say. This is always how it was going to end.”

  Tears welled in his eyes. “But I love you. And I know you—”

  “Can’t be the one you need,” she cut in, before he completely destroyed her. “The one you deserve. Along with that family. That’s your future, Cole. But it’s not mine.”

  She stepped closer and gently shoved him back a step—don’t breathe him in, don’t notice how he feels—so she could open the pickup door. It was better this way. Fast, like an amputation. With a dull ax.

  “How can I just stand here and watch you leave?” The raw anguish in his voice tore at her guts. And God, the way he looked. She’d done that to him. Stupid, selfish bitch.

  She took his wrists and raised those big, beautiful hands to his face. “Cover your eyes,” she whispered.

  Then she got in the pickup and drove away.

  * * *

  Cole did watch her leave. Stood right there and stared until her rig disappeared behind the grandstand, headed for the highway. Kept standing as people and cars veered around him. He was oblivious to the stares. The whispers. He had no idea what to do next, so he did nothing.

  “Um, excuse me?” A nervous clearing of a throat, young and feminine. “They said you’re Cole?”

  He swiveled his head, one slow degree at a time, to find a teenager in a pizza delivery uniform eyeing him uncertainly.

  She held up an insulated bag. “You ordered a couple of pizzas?”

  He had. Called it in right before the bull riding. An hour…or a lifetime ago. He stared at the girl, unable to react.

  She retreated a step toward her car, the sign on top glowing obscenely bright. “If I got the wrong guy…”

  “No.” Cole fumbled for his wallet, his fingers thick and numb as he dragged out two twenties and thrust them at her.

  She took them and passed him the pizza in return. There was something he should say now, but he couldn’t think what it was so he walked past the girl toward his trailer.

  “Hey! You got, like, fourteen dollars change coming.”

  He ignored her. Pepperoni was scrawled across the top box in black letters. He tossed the bottom box—Shawnee’s veggie pizza—in a trash can as he passed. Katie popped out from under the trailer, took a good look at him, and dropped to her belly, whining as if she’d been kicked. He let them both into his living quarters without turning on the lights, opened the pizza box and dropped it on one end of the couch. The dog looked from him to the pizza and back again, as if she suspected this was some kind of trick.

  “It’s all yours,” he said.

  She sniffed at it, then turned away to watch him instead. Cole grabbed the six-pack of Shiner from the fridge and twisted the top off the first beer. When he dropped onto the couch, Katie jumped up beside him. He sat, one hand on his dog, the other wrapped around a bottle, and stared into the darkness.

  Shawnee was out there somewhere. Alone. Hurting. He grabbed his phone, started to dial, then stopped. He still had nothing to say. But he had to know…

  Please be careful, he typed.

  The reply took so long he didn’t think she was going to answer. Finally, the phone vibrated in his hand. Don’t worry. I’ve got Roy and Sooner with me.

  And no matter how upset she was, Shawnee would never put her horses at risk. Wherever she’d gone, it would be someplace safe for all of them. Small comfort, but as much as he could expect. Cole drained the last of the first beer, tossed the bottle in the general direction of the trash can, and reached for another.

  * * *

  Shawnee had driven east, to the next ink spot of a town, where there was a saddle club arena often used by cowboys as a stopping off point between far-flung Texas rodeos. It was off the main highway, where she could hunker down without the Jacobs convoy rolling past in the morning and seeing her.

  She could not handle seeing Cole again.

  When the horses were penned, fed, and watered, she climbed into the trailer, stripped down, and pulled on shorts and a T-shirt. Then she fished out a prescription bottle. She dropped the first pill she shook onto her palm. Leaving it to roll into some corner, she shook out a second, popped it in her mouth, and washed it down with lukewarm water from the tap.

  God, what she’d give for a sleeping potion she could shoot straight into her vein, like anesthesia. One, two, three…lights out. Instead, she crawled onto the middle of the huge, empty bed to wait for blessed oblivion. The sheets and pillows still smelled like Cole. Squeezing her eyes shut, she wrapped her arms around her knees and curled into a ball.

  Once again, it was up to her to hold herself together. No more stupid hugs. No big strong arms to wrap up in. At least Cole would have his damn dog to cuddle with.

  Her chin began to shake. And then her shoulders. And then her entire body. She gave in to the misery and sobbed until the pill finally worked its magic and took her under.

  Chapter 41

  The buzz of Shawnee’s phone woke her early the next morning. A text from Violet.

  Where are you?

  She stared blearily at the screen, trying to decide how to play this out. The old Shawnee would’ve had some smart-ass remark. Blown it off as just another fling. But she wasn’t going to fool anyone, least of all herself. Or Violet, who knew better than to even ask if she was okay. So she dodged the question.

  I’m going to see Butthead. Be home in a few days.

  There. That would give her some breathing room. They didn’t have to know that she’d be seeing Butthead via a live video feed, not in person. The horse was in hog heaven at A&M, with vet students standing in line to cater to his every need.

  Be careful, Violet wrote back. Let me know as soon as you’re back in town.

  Not likely. She couldn’t have any of them knocking on her door while she was clearing out her place, a caretaker’s apartment above a barn where she’d lived longer than any place other than her grandparent’s ranch.

  The next text was from Tori. Shawnee fed her the same information, guaranteeing no one would show up on her doorstep for at least a few days. Then she got dressed and loaded her horses. By her reckoning, she was no more than three hours behind the Jacobs trucks when she rolled into Amarillo.

  Violet checked in a couple more times. So did Tori, and even Melanie. But not Cole. Thank God. It was hard enough, knowing he was only an hour away. If he’d actually tried to reach her…

  She gave notice to her landlords, who were only slightly mollified by the short list of names she gave them, acquaintances who would jump at the chance to take her place.

  “I can’t imagine finding anyone as reliable as you,” the old lady said, sounding a little choked up. “It’s been so wonderful, to be able to leave and never once worry that everything here would be taken care of better than we could do it ourselves. And we’ll miss you.”

  Shawnee swallowed hard and gave a yeah, me too nod. Yet another sign that she’d stayed in one place too long. Another string to be cut. How had she let herself get tangled in so many?

  And how had she, who prided herself on traveling light, accumulated so much stuff? The apartment was no big deal. She pared her clothes down to what would fit in the closet in her trailer—her wardrobe was due for an update anyway—then the rest along with boxes of bits and pieces of household cra
p to the homeless shelter. Everything they couldn’t use went to the dump.

  But the tack room—she stared in helpless despair at the rows of bridles and rope bags, saddles and blankets, the majority trophies from ropings. She started to sort through it all, but every piece she picked up had a memory stuck on it like a sand burr. There were the halters she and Granddad had won when she was fifteen, her official comeback after treatment. Gran had a picture of the award presentation that Shawnee hated. Granddad looked great—strong and proud—but her hair had barely started to come back in and she was still gaunt. Hollow-cheeked. A refugee from a war with her own body.

  One whole corner was crammed full of stuff she’d won in the past three years with Tori. Back in college, she never would’ve imagined that the girl she’d mockingly called Cowgirl Barbie would end up being the best partner she’d ever had. The strongest, truest of all the ties that bound her to the Panhandle.

  Not counting Cole. Which she didn’t, because those strings had been woven from delusions that had evaporated in the harsh light of reality.

  She’d meant to sort through, pick out the must-keeps, then haul the rest to a used tack shop. Apparently, though, her fucked-up emotions had failed to get the memo. She threw in the towel when she teared up at the sight of a cheap, ugly breast collar from a roping in Hereford of all the damn places. But it was the first trophy of any kind she’d won on Roy…

  A dozen bridles with various bits—snaffles, D-rings, different sizes and styles of ports and shanks to suit individual horses—went into her trailer, along with five kinds of saddle pads, a couple of insulated horse blankets for the cold New York winter, splint boots, skid boots, plus buckets and hay bags for the trip. And her ropes, of course. Brady had promised to provide anything else she might need.

  She got a flash of Cole’s hands sliding over her skin, his glorious weight settling over her, and gave a short, harsh laugh. That was one need she wasn’t gonna be able to fill at the tack store.