The Last Cowboy

by Pat Dale

  “I can well imagine. Come on.” She led him to the Volvo and opened the doors.

  Samantha stole glances at her passenger as she drove. His expensive cologne tickled her nose and she smothered a smile when she caught him checking his reflection in her side mirror. The bright blue eyes were too busy scrutinizing himself to appreciate the beauty of countryside. Environmentalist, my ass. He’s too full of himself to even notice the scenery. Maybe Rose found attractive in a male model sort of way, or maybe he was just filling the empty hole her husband’s passing left in her life.

  When she pulled up alongside the Quiet Springs Hotel she nodded toward Unit Eleven. “If you’d like, I can wait here while you two get your notes organized.”

  “That would be good. I need to learn firsthand what she has before we share it with you.”

  She watched him knock. When the door opened, Rose smiled and Carlson hugged her. Samantha was pretty sure she hadn’t noticed her sitting in the car.

  After several moments, she was tempted to interrupt. It was taking an awful long time for them to compare notes. Just then, the door opened and Rose waved.

  “Hi, Samantha. Thanks for bringing Steve with you. I’m sure you had an interesting conversation on the way out here. Isn’t he just the smartest guy?”

  “Absolutely, Rose,” Sam lied with a straight face. Steve Carlson was too stuck on himself for Sam’s tastes.

  “Come on in and we’ll brief you on the official story.”

  For a very long half-hour, she listened to Rose regurgitate facts and statistics while Steve Carlson pontificated on the need for wildlife protection. She’d long since taken ten times the notes she’d use for the story. On one hand, it made sense to publish it. After all, it was news. On the other hand, the news wouldn’t be welcome, to locals generally, or to Troy Roberts, specifically.

  Carlson declined a ride back to Flanders, relying on Rose to take him to retrieve his car. Samantha had an idea the two had a lot to discuss. She mused whether it would be all business or if Carlson intended to act on the emotions that chased across his features every time he looked at Rose. Not that it was any of her business, but man, Rose deserved better than him.

  She took the road more deliberately on the return trip, thinking about her new advantage in the never-ending psychological war against Troy. She could break the story in a way that would leave him helpless as a newborn babe. Or she could cast it in such a way that he had at least a fighting chance to save his investment. And his hide.

  What should I do? Grind him into mush or play this for all it’s worth?

  Chapter Five

  Ozzie stuck his head inside Samantha’s office. “What are you working on today?”

  “I’m putting the finishing touches on the environmental story for Sunday’s edition.”

  “You’re going ahead with it?”

  “Sure. It’s news.”

  “Not good news, if you ask me. This could be opening a can of worms.”

  She chuckled.

  “No way are these wackos going to keep me from backing an opportunity that will be good for this community. Environmental issues, aside. There’s plenty of pristine country around here. Don’t see why they’ve got their shirts in a knot over a measly two thousand acres.

  “Dad, I’m not sure they’re wackos. They’re very dedicated to their cause, but they seem pretty rational to me.”

  “Well, kiddo, I don’t like it, but I trust your judgment. Have you talked to Troy to get his side of things?”

  “His side? Why would that matter?”

  “Come on, Samantha. I talked to him yesterday.”

  She blushed. Dad must have figured out what her secret ‘big story’ was. “Oh.”

  “Are you going to talk to him?”

  “No. I figure if he has something to say he’ll come to me. If he doesn’t, I’m not going to worry about it.”

  He frowned, shrugged and walked away. She stared at the empty doorway before returning to her task. Well, this is different. Dad clearly didn’t approve of her decision but, unlike previous times, was apparently not going to try to dictate what she wrote. She’d finished the story and an accompanying editorial when Troy arrived.

  “Hi, Samantha. What’re you doing?”

  “Getting copy ready for Sunday. Could I help you?”

  “You certainly could.” The way he dragged the words out made her want to blush. Or maybe throw her paper weight at him. After a pause, he handed her a folder. “But for now, I have some ad copy for the paper. Ozzie said I should show it to you.”

  She pulled the copy out and thumbed through the sheets. The basic ad was for luxury tracts, along with a very nasty in-your-face statement concerning the dangers of environmental extremism. “You sure you want to print it like this?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “This is like waving a red flag in front of the bull.”

  Troy’s eyes narrowed. “Do you regard Steve Carlson as a bull?”

  “I didn’t say that. It was a figure of speech. Damn it, Troy.”

  “We’ll see.” He turned to go.

  “Please understand, Troy, I’m not going to accept this for publication unless you soften the language in it.”

  He spun back to face her. “It says what I want it to say.”

  “I know that. I’m the great protector of free speech around these parts, remember? I’m thinking of your own best interests now. If you alienate the townspeople, they won’t support your project.”

  “Why would it alienate them?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the part where you call your adversaries wild-eyed environmentalists and unpatriotic socialists? Or tree-hugging gandy dancers, whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean. What do you think?”

  “I think I like it the way I wrote it.”

  “Well, Troy, while you’re here, you may as well read my Sunday editorial concerning the controversy.”

  She handed him the editorial. He dropped into the seat across from her and skimmed through the copy. His face brightened then went pale. “Sounds like you’ve already chosen sides, Miss Turner.”

  That was something he only called her when he was really, really angry. She couldn’t blame him. Her editorial put the paper firmly on the side of environmentalists.

  “I don’t see it as choosing sides. Just simple logic.”

  “Logic, my foot. I’ll show you simple logic.” He grabbed up his ad copy and stormed out of the office.

  She shouted, “Did you change your mind about your ad?”

  “No! Only about where I choose to spend my money on it.”

  Ozzie appeared as the door slammed behind Troy. “What was that all about?”

  “I think I just put my foot in it.”

  “Again?”

  * * *

  Troy concentrated on the road, making an effort to distract his thoughts from Sam. The woman was a constant source of aggravation, between her refusal to forgive him for something that she thought happened a long time ago and his body’s reaction every time he was near her. It was enough to drive a man crazy. .

  I’ll fix her wagon! Advertising in Branson makes more sense than Flanders anyway. Crazy high and mighty female! Why is she so intent on making my life miserable? I wish I could believe she’s jealous of Rose, if she was there might be hope for us yet. I just don’t know what to think.

  He pulled up in front of the Branson Courier. Maybe she’d think twice when she learned he could go elsewhere for his advertising. Troy stomped into the Courier’s office.

  Thirty minutes later, he emerged, puzzled. The editor accepted the ads but had managed to talk him into softening the tone of the accompanying message regarding environmentalism. The man claimed it would negate the effectiveness of the advertising if he appeared too aggressive.

  Basically, it was the same message Samantha delivered. He’d thought she was only refusing him out of spite and jealousy. Maybe he should step back and reassess.

  “Hey, Troy! Just
the guy I gotta talk to.” A friendly voice broke his train of thought. Jason Tawdry offered his hand.

  Troy shook hands. “Hi, Jason. What’s up?”

  The handsome singer smiled. “I was on my way up to Flanders to see you, but maybe we can work out somethin’ over here. It’d save me a trip over that hellish road.”

  “Let’s go to the Lazy Blues and have coffee, JT.”

  “Sounds good. Your car or mine?”

  “Mine. It’s right here.”

  They got into the Lexus and set off across town to the posh establishment frequented by many of the country stars who called Branson home. They ordered coffee and settled in at table near the fireplace.

  “My guess is you want to talk about the new project. I was about to put the ads in the paper,” Troy began.

  “Yeah. You really got me all hot and bothered over this thing. I was thinking of buying a place down near Hollister. But the way you explained your ideas for the development here I figure I gotta get into that in a big way. Things are going pretty good for me right now.”

  “I hear you have a new number one hit.”

  “Yep. I’m pretty proud of it.”

  “I like it. Don’t know where you came up with the title, though. Local Yokel Blues seems kind of strange for a song title to me.”

  “Not if you’re the local yokel.”

  “I guess not.” Troy laughed. “So, let’s talk about your proposed estate, Jason. The prelim drawings are at my office but I think I can give you a good idea of what it’ll look like.”

  * * *

  Missy called at mid-afternoon. “Hi, Samantha. I haven’t had a chance to talk to you for days. How’s it going?”

  “Okay, Missy. How was your date with Tom?”

  “Fabulous. I think he really likes me. I can’t get over how handsome he is.”

  “Tom handsome? I can’t imagine that.”

  “You’ve got to see him to believe it. But really, it’s him I like, not his appearance. Anyway, we’re going out again this weekend. Would you like to double-date?”

  “With who?”

  “How about Troy?”

  “How about, you’ve got to be crazy. Why would I go anywhere with that idiot?”

  “I don’t know, Samantha. Maybe to keep Rose Ingersoll from getting her hooks into him. Just forget it, will you?”

  “That’s easy. Have fun, Missy. Let me know how it goes.”

  * * *

  The mid-week edition was ready to go, so Samantha drifted out onto the street. Unaccustomed to having time on her hands, she wandered down Main Street to the café for coffee. After dawdling for the better part of an hour, she decided to go on home.

  When she stepped around the corner to collect her car, Steve Carlson was leaning on it with a big smile plastered across his face.

  “Hi, there. I was hoping you’d come by.”

  “Hello, Doctor Carlson.”

  “Please, call me Steve. You’re looking especially lovely this afternoon, Samantha.”

  If he only knew how lovely she felt. Not! “Why, thank you. Did you want something in particular?”

  “Only to spend some time with you, if you’re not too busy.” His eyes sparkled. “I thought you might like to hear some of the wild stories of my environmental quests.”

  Oh, spare me.

  He said, “Of course, if you’re on an important story, I can talk to you some other time.”

  “No. I’m done with this week’s issue as it happens. Finished early, as a matter of fact. Would you like to go for a coffee?”

  “Tea would be even nicer. Do they have herbal tea around these parts?”

  She smiled. “I think we can round up a good cup of green tea at the café. I was just there, but let’s go back. It’s cool inside and pretty quiet this time of day.”

  Sam glanced at the clock for what seemed like the thousandth time. Carlson had talked non-stop for over an hour. According to him, he’d blocked a nuclear site, saved at least a dozen ridiculous creatures, the names of which she’d never remember past bedtime. He’d taught scores of young women how to go into the wild to search out helpless animals. His voice droned on and on.

  “Are you doing anything this evening, Samantha?”

  His change of topic startled her into answering before she thought it out. “No. Other than putting my feet up and reveling in the latest television nonsense.”

  “Would you care to go to Branson with me? We could take in a concert, or perhaps a movie. And dinner, of course; especially dinner. I need some sophisticated cuisine. Burgers and fries just aren’t my style, I’m afraid.”

  “I don’t know. Will Rose be coming?”

  “I doubt it. She’s working on the presentation to support our claims. I believe she planned to stay in tonight and get as much done as she could. So what do you say? Dinner and a show?”

  “I’m not sure. Dinner would be fine, I suppose. I just don’t want it to look like I’m personally involved with you and Rose on this issue.”

  “I’d hardly call having dinner personal involvement.”

  “Well, okay. I suppose. I’ll need to go home to change, though.”

  “Why don’t I follow you? When you’re ready, I’ll drive us to my place so I can change.”

  “Where are you staying?”

  “In Reeds Spring.”

  “The same hotel as—”

  “I’m in Room Twelve, Samantha. Rose and I are colleagues, not friends with benefits.”

  * * *

  After they’d finished talking business JT leaned back in his chair and regarded him from under the brim of his hat. “Hey, Troy, I’ve got an idea. You like young country. Why don’t you take in my show tonight? My treat.” The singer pulled two tickets from his shirt pocket.

  “That’s really nice of you, JT, but I don’t have a date.”

  “You don’t? Well, I bet I can fix you up with someone if you want.”

  Troy grinned at the idea that flashed across his mind. Samantha wouldn’t like one bit, but then again nothing he did seemed to meet with her approval anyway. Rose would love to go. Country music was her passion. “Hey, maybe I can round up a date after all. I know someone who might be available.”

  “Great. These tickets’ ll get you in the reserve section. You want, I can introduce you during the show.”

  “I don’t know whether that’s a good idea.”

  “Well, there’s lots of folks around who know about your project already, man. I just thought you’d like some more publicity. Up to you.”

  “You’re absolutely right, JT. That would be great.”

  “See you tonight. And don’t forget, you promised me first dibs when your development’s ready to go.”

  “I won’t forget.” Troy’s gaze followed the singer’s progress out of the shop noticing the attention he received as he sauntered by.

  * * *

  The finale of Brahms’ First Symphony flowed from Carlson’s radio when Sam approached the open door of his vehicle. She’d decided on a dress rather than slacks and blouse. The cool slinky fabric flowing around her legs felt exhilarating. Her habit had long been to wear dresses only for church and formal occasions but it seemed right to dress this way tonight.

  “You look marvellous, my dear,” Steve said. “If you don’t mind my saying so, there’s a feminine side to you I hadn’t expected after our first meeting.”

  Her face heated. If her femininity was so obvious to him, why hadn’t anyone else ever mentioned it? Troy Roberts, for example. “Thanks, I think.”

  “My pleasure, I assure you. Well, shall we go?”

  Carlson held the door of his Highlander. She climbed in, marveling at the spotless interior. He was the antithesis of what she’d expected, other than his appearance and lofty mannerisms.

  Sam tried not to look as Steve drove way too close to the shoulder of the winding road. Finally, he pulled up in front of his unit at the hotel and invited her to come in while he changed. Sam politely opted
to wait in the car. His door had barely shut behind him when a familiar car pulled up at Unit Eleven. Samantha dropped low in the seat and watched Troy knock on Rose’s door.

  She was about to open her window and shout an insult when Rose appeared, smiling. Troy disappeared inside the room. Before either of them reappeared, Steve came out of his room, wearing semi-authentic western clothes. Samantha stifled a laugh at the bandana tied around his neck.

  “Well, that didn’t take too long, did it?”

  “Not at all. My, don’t you look like a regular cowboy?”

  “When in Rome, as the saying goes. You know, when in Branson, dress as the Bransonites do. Or do they call themselves Bransonians?”

  Sam ignored the idiotic question. “One thing for sure, you won’t give any of them the impression you’re from the big city. Are you familiar with the restaurants in town?” She smothered a grin. The locals would spot him for an urban cowboy from a mile away.

  “No. I’d hoped you could recommend something.”

  “Do you eat meat?”

  Carlson chuckled. “If you mean, am I a vegetarian, the answer is no. I love steak, to tell you the truth.”

  “Then we’re in for a treat. Branson has several great steakhouses. Let’s go. I’m getting hungry thinking about it.”

  * * *

  Rose emerged from her room just as Carlson drove away. She turned back to Troy with a surprised look on her face. “That was Steve. Did you see who was with him?”

  “No. Who?”

  “Samantha.”

  “Samantha with Carlson? That doesn’t make sense.”

  “Maybe he’s trying to bring her over to our side. The environmentalist side, I mean.”

  “Or maybe, Sam’s trying to get some down and dirty facts to use against him,” Troy replied.