My Cowboy Freedom

by Z. A. Maxfield

  I held up my hand. “Now, I admit it’s been a while since I heard one, but—”

  He ignored me. “But then the very first winter came and all the animals were very cold. They decided to send their friend, the beautiful, musical rainbow Crow to ask the Creator to make it warm again. Instead, the Creator gave Crow the gift of fire.”

  “Sounds fair.”

  “Sure,” Rock’s smile was genuine. “But Rainbow Crow had to bring the fire such a long way. By the time he got back, he was charred all over. His beautiful voice was burned away. That’s why Crow is no longer colorful, but you can still see hints of the rainbow in his feathers. His song is only a memory.”

  “I never heard that story before.” It was a goddamn beautiful story, and now I was even more proud I carried ’Nando’s mark on my arm. It was almost as if Rock laid a blessing on it.

  He lowered his lashes. “I loved that book when I was a kid. My mother didn’t want me to check it out because it had the word ‘rainbow’ in the title.”

  “Your mom has a problem with rainbows?”

  “She does.” Amusement brightened his expression. “But I pitched one hell of a fit in the library and she gave in. Eventually, I got her to buy it for me.”

  “She didn’t.” My mother would have taken me to the car at least, if not home to my stepdad for a strapping.

  “My parents are all about appearances. I figured I had a fifty-fifty chance I’d get the book if I embarrassed her, and I took it.”

  “You manipulative little shit.”

  He grinned. “I’d like to get a tattoo someday.”

  “What would you get?”

  “I should get a rainbow crow. My mother would throw a fit.”

  “You’ll be sorry if you choose your ink because of what other people will think about it.” My ink was a road map of my life. I couldn’t imagine getting something just to make a point. Except Nando’s crow, my ink was all about me.

  “Then maybe I’ll get something about music? Or the word ‘Maisy.’ I’ll probably hate it, though. Or I’ll want to change my mind the minute it’s finished.” He grabbed up his burrito and ate it, saying, “Because what if I pick a bad place and it’s awful?” with a full mouth.

  Looks like I won’t have to worry too much about manners in front of Rock.

  Good to know.

  “That is a consideration. There are lots of folks walking around with bad tats out there.”

  “My father says tattoos are a sin against God.”

  I’d figured it was something like that. “Well. You’re old enough to make up your own mind, right?”

  “Right.” He went back to his meal.

  Deliberately, I put one hand in my lap and picked up my glass with the other. I drank. Put the glass down. Picked up my fork. Took a bite. I slowed myself to Rock’s pace, trying to reclaim the casual way people eat in the Real World, because I doubted Rock was a burrito-eating slob when Elena was watching.

  I said, “There can be more than one lesson to any story.”

  “In this case, there’s not. Crow is as much his beauty as his sacrifice. And that’s the way the Creator in the story wants it because He designed the crow to be beautiful in the first place. And if you knew my mother and father, you’d know they never look beyond a person’s exterior.”

  “My mother would hate my tattoos. She’d probably faint if she saw them. I don’t know what my father would have said about the matter. I didn’t get them to please anyone but me.”

  Or . . . maybe I should have said, I didn’t get them to make anyone angry.

  “It’s my body,” I said.

  “So your mother never saw any of them?” he asked.

  “Not yet.” I didn’t suppose she ever would. She’d never visited me in prison, and I had no reason to believe she’d want to see me now that I was out.

  “So”—he watched me carefully—“prison?”

  Did I make him nervous? He could be an ally, but not if I made him nervous. “Do you want to ask me about it? I don’t mind.”

  He sat quietly considering the offer. “I don’t know if I want to know.”

  I nodded. “I’ve got a past and I can’t change it. But I won’t be dishonest about it. Not with you anyway.”

  “What did you do?” he asked.

  “I murdered my stepfather.” Taking a drink of milk right away was the only way to get that out and not wince.

  I said it that way to shock him and get it all over with at once. There was more to the story but there always is, isn’t there? And it didn’t really matter. Bottom line: I killed my mother’s husband.

  “That’s—that’s really bad.” He blinked those wide blue eyes at me, thoughts churning, working hard to decide if he dared trust a guy like me.

  What surprised me is how much I cared about what he thought.

  Finally, he asked, “Did you at least have a good reason?”

  “I thought I did.” I piled my napkin, silverware, and glass back onto my empty plate. Rearranged them some.

  He never took his eyes off me. “Was it self-defense?”

  “No.” I wanted him dead. “I came home early from work one day and found my stepfather hurting my sister. I went crazy, I guess. I hit him so hard his head snapped back and hit the wall. I don’t think I meant for—” I had to drag air into my lungs to continue. “He fell down the stairs and died instantly.”

  Across from me, Rock’s throat worked. “I see.”

  “Are you scared of me now?”

  He gave a tight nod. “A little.”

  My heart sank. “I’m not a bad guy. Not the same kind of bad as your Lefty Wheeler anyway. I wouldn’t hurt someone for no reason.”

  He snorted. “Lefty’s a damn douche nozzle.”

  That made me smile. “Tell me about him.”

  “I came to the Rocking C right after my accident, when I was still having some memory problems. Some of my math skills, like counting out change quickly, are still crap. I guess he figures I’m not smart because of the dog and the constant supervision from Elena and the hands. He says stuff. Does some real bullying shit. I hate him.”

  “You haven’t found a way to shut it down?”

  He deflated. “Nope. No luck.”

  “I don’t think I’d like him either if he calls people names.”

  “I used to do that. Before.”

  That’s a mighty small voice.

  He continued, “Maybe I deserve it, because I used to think—”

  “Nobody deserves to be bullied,” I said. “If you hurt people when you were a kid or whatever, you can make that right. You can apologize and change.”

  “The thing is, Lefty goes to the same church they make me go to.” Maisy had circled the picnic table four times and had finally found a spot she liked, right next to Rock’s left hand. He gave her a pat. Apparently Rock could pet Maisy while she was working but it wasn’t okay for anyone else.

  It’s always good to know the local customs.

  I was jealous of his dog. How pathetic was that?

  “So you see this dude pretty often, then?” I asked.

  He nodded. “I think he looks at me and figures . . . I don’t know. Short bus?”

  Ouch. “People can change.”

  “I don’t think Lefty will. He has some misconceptions about me and he’s not real bothered about straightening things out.” His smile was a lopsided slice of uncertainty. “I used to think guys like him were hilarious in high school. It’s true. I have brain damage, but it’s not like he thinks.”

  His honesty was a painful, beautiful thing. “Everyone has to grow up sometime. Sounds like Lefty hasn’t gotten there. You say he has a spiderweb tattoo like mine?”

  Rock nodded.

  “Did he ever do time?”

  “Not unless you count
working at the Walmart in Marble Falls.”

  I laughed. “Yeah. Well. I don’t count that. But some might.”

  “I’ve never met anyone who was in prison before.” He toyed with Maisy’s collar, her vest, the knots in her fur. He looked everywhere but at me. “It’s weird.”

  I picked up my dishes. “Where do I put these?”

  “I’ll show you.”

  Together, we took the well-worn path in the direction of the ranch house. The rest of the hands had already gone. Maybe that’s how Rock got away to eat with me. I scraped my plate into the trash—although I’d barely left a crumb of food behind—and rinsed it in the sink outside where I’d washed my hands. Then Rock showed me the crate for the dishes.

  “I take them in for Elena after everyone eats,” he said.

  “Thanks for showing me. Where do we eat when the weather doesn’t cooperate?”

  “We can have supper in the ranch house kitchen or the bunkhouse but it’s cramped, so we eat outside whenever the weather lets us. There’ll be pie for dessert tonight. I can get you a piece now, if you want.”

  “That’d be nice, but I can wait until later if—”

  “It’s okay,” he whispered, “Elena makes a special one for me and Sterling. I’ll be right back.”

  “Thank you,” I said the words as the screen door slammed shut behind him.

  Rock came back a couple of minutes later with two slices of pie. “Apple today, with a crumb crust. Elena makes the best pies. My favorite is olallieberry pie.”

  “That’s not even a thing. You’re making it up.”

  “I’m not! Olallieberries look like the bastard children of blackberries and—” He frowned at me. “You’re teasing, right?”

  “I am,” I admitted.

  He grinned, and then bit his lip. “I got your pie with ice cream, is that okay?”

  “I like ice cream.”

  He handed me a plate and a fork, and we stood by the sink, eating glorious homemade apple crumb pie. Maisy sat staring, too well trained to beg, but not above hoping a morsel would fall her way.

  Rock nudged her away. “Sorry, Maisy.”

  She turned away as if the idea never occurred to her.

  “It’s not healthy for her to eat people food.” He laid his fork on his plate and dug something brown and crumbly out of his pocket. “Here, Maize. You can have this. Look at me.”

  Maisy met his gaze and took her treat happily. When she was done, her ears perked up. She wagged her tail and preened, hoping for another treat. Rock tossed the next one her way and she snatched it right out of the air.

  “Good catch,” he praised.

  The light had started to fade. The breeze was picking up, but it didn’t cool the air around us much.

  “What now?” I asked.

  He took the plate from me. “You should rest up. We’ll get started before dawn tomorrow.”

  “Sure.” I was a light sleeper. In fact, as keyed up as I felt, I doubted I’d sleep much at all.

  Rock took a cell phone out of his pocket and started tapping on it. “Gimme your digits in case the boss needs to get in touch.”

  “I don’t have a cell phone.”

  His mouth dropped open. “Shut up.”

  “Nope.” It was almost comical how floored he was by that. “The warden didn’t like the prisoners ordering pizza at all hours.”

  “I can’t imagine anyone not having a cell phone.” He stared at his like he was picturing going without it. “How did you stand it?”

  “You don’t get much of a signal inside all that steel and concrete anyway.”

  “We only get coverage by the ranch house, so we use the radios when the hands are moving cattle. But if you don’t have a phone, you can’t stream movies or play video games. You’d be bored to death at the doctor’s office. I can’t even—”

  “I’ll get one when I can.” I stopped him before I had to tell him the last phone I used only made phone calls. “In the meantime, if you tell me what time you need me to show up and where, I’ll be there.”

  “You’ll hear the other hands getting started in the morning, follow their lead. Work begins at first light.”

  “Sure.” I took both plates back and rinsed them before putting them in the crate on the porch. “You need me to help wash up the rest of the dishes or anything?”

  “Nina and I will get it.” He used the diminutive to refer to his godmother as he picked up the crate. “But maybe you could get the door?”

  I opened it for him, but I didn’t even try to follow him inside. It wasn’t because Elena stood there sort of glaring at me. And it wasn’t because of the weak, slightly embarrassed smile he wore when he waved good-bye. Not. At. All.

  I was there to work, not to make friends. I couldn’t afford any kind of drama at the Rocking C, where starting over meant survival.

  Still . . .

  I stood there too long after the door closed behind Rock, thinking about his sad little half-smile and what it would take to make him smile again, for real.

  Chapter 6

  Rock

  “Sky doesn’t have a phone.” I told my Nina. “Your phone is an antique, but he doesn’t have one at all.”

  “How does he even survive?” She gave me the lid of her old, cast-iron Dutch oven to dry.

  “Welcome the modern age.” I dried the lid, placed it on the counter, and held my hand out for the pot. “We need cars and electricity. We need smartphones. And you need to carry your phone with you wherever you go. Half the time you don’t even answer when I call you.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to talk to you that badly.”

  It’d hurt if I thought she meant that. “But what if there’s trouble?”

  “Then I’ll use the radio. Cell phones are for horny teenagers to send each other pictures of their junk. Nothing good comes from them.”

  “These kids today,” I mimicked her voice.

  “Shut it, you.” She caught my cheek with a soapy hand.

  I always shadowed her while she did her evening chores. I tried to be casual so she wouldn’t notice I was doing it and get on my case about not getting underfoot while she did her work. At fifty, Elena Marquez was an elegant fortress.

  I always figured she was going to age like she was made of granite too, but her doctor was getting on her for the fifteen or so pounds of extra weight she carried, and they’d discussed her blood sugar, which worried me since she had relatives who’d lost the diabetes lottery. She was strong and I wanted her to stay that way forever.

  “Why don’t you let me finish up in here?” I told her. “Go watch your show.”

  Elena might complain about cell phones, but she’d taken to live-streaming Downton Abbey like a millennial. She studied me from head to toe and then glanced at Maisy to confirm.

  “You’re not tired?”

  “I’m fine.” It annoyed me that she still looked at Maisy instead of me. “Don’t look at the dog. I’m telling you. I’m fine.”

  “All right. I won’t turn down an offer like that. I put a plate in the oven for the boss when he gets back. I saved a second fresh pie just for him.”

  “What? You’d hold out on me?” I grabbed my chest and mimed shock while Maisy circled my heels and barked. “You were like a mother to me. How could you?”

  “Knock it off.” She laughed. “Maisy doesn’t know you’re playing.”

  “Sorry, girl.” I bent over and scratched the confused dog behind her ear. It took her a minute to settle down. “I know, girl. Sorry.”

  “Make sure you tell the boss about the new hand. If that little pack is all he brought with him, he’s going to need some gear.”

  “I’ll let him know.”

  She put her hand on my arm. “And you stay away from him until we know what kind of man he is.”

  �
�I can take care of myself, Nina.” She was usually careful not to crush what she called my “fragile male ego.” The arrival of a good-looking ex-con had apparently changed all that.

  “I know you can.” She sounded unhappy, which made me glance up from putting serving spoons into the utensil drawer.

  “What?”

  “You’ll be fine. You’re a grown man. I know that, but—”

  “I’ll be extra fine, ’cause I done growed more than most.” I flexed my biceps bodybuilder style and kept my tone Hee Haw light.

  But humor didn’t help when Elena was really worried about something.

  “What’s got you so wound up about this guy?” I asked. “He seems okay, from what I could tell.”

  “I don’t know what’s going on in the boss’s head lately. First all this business with Andi. And he’s hiring ex-cons now? Times are hard for honest folk. We don’t even know what this Brody did—”

  “He said—” Too late, I realized what Sky told me would not help my case. “He’s done his time. I think we should let him settle in here before we make up our minds about him.”

  At the sound of a truck pulling up behind the ranch house I looked out the window over the old farm sink.

  “Boss is back.”

  “Oh, mercy.” Elena hung the dishrag on its plastic suction hook and—in a move so quick and uncharacteristically feminine I believe I must have imagined it—she patted her sleek dark hair into place. “Is he alone?”

  I eyed her. “Yes.”

  She sighed. “Then I guess I’ll go watch television.”

  “Wait.” I blocked the kitchen doorway so she couldn’t retreat to our rooms without looking at me. “Are you expecting someone else?”

  “What?” She lifted her chin. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “You are! You fussed with your hair. I saw you. Spill everything. Who is it?”

  “What is this, a Lifetime movie? That’s so nineteen-hundred-and-late.” Her face turned bright red. “You’re smoking locoweed, m’hijo.”

  “So it’s true. You didn’t deny it, so it’s true!” I crowed at her. “You’d best have your young man come up to the house sometime so me and the boss can give him the third degree.”