The Last True Cowboy

by Laura Drake

  “What?” Papaw jerks to his feet.

  I hold up a hand. “Wait. Let me get it all out. Then you can…” I don’t want to know what words come after that. I’m afraid to even think them, for fear they’ll become real. “I had myself tested. I don’t have any diseases.”

  Nana’s hand covers her heart. Her skin is corpselike.

  “But I am going to have a baby.”

  Papaw’s butt hits the couch again. “Who is this…person? What does he have to say for him—”

  “Leroy.” Nana pats his hand. “Let the girl talk.”

  Papaw’s jaw snaps closed. He’s taken on all the color that drained from Nana; his face is flushed an unhealthy, dusky red.

  “I don’t know where he is.” Hell, I don’t know who he is, but brand me for a coward, I’m not telling my Papaw that. “I drove around for hours, trying to figure out how I could come home and face you.” I sniff. “I finally convinced myself that I could put it behind me, and it would all just go away.”

  I wrap my arms around my waist, as if to keep Bean from hearing. “I thought about an abortion—”

  Nana’s gasp forces me to look up. Tears are sheeting down her face, and her mouth is open in a rictus of pain. “Nana…I’m sorry,” I wail, and throw myself against her legs and wrap my arms around them. “I’m so, so, so sorry.”

  The pressure of her hand on the crown of my head soothes my pain enough to go on. “Y’all hadn’t even planned on raising me. You should be relaxing and enjoying your retirement, not listening to a baby crying at two a.m.” I force my shoulders down. Almost done. “I’ll move into town. There’s space for rent over The Civic—”

  “You will not.” Papaw’s soft words are spoken hard. “You are our blood. A Beauchamp.”

  I feel like I can breathe for the first time since I walked in the door. Nana talks game, but Papaw is the one who makes the rules around here.

  “You don’t owe us nothing, missy.” He’s looking past me, his head moving side to side. “I always hoped you’d set up the diner to run on its own, then move on. Go to school. Do…whatever you wanted with your life. Pick out your own shoes and walk in ’em—not just step into your parents’.” His gaze drops to me. His eyes are tired, world-weary, and sad. “Have you told Austin yet?”

  “Yeah, I did. It didn’t go well.”

  “Never mind. You will have this baby, and we will live as we always have. I’ll hear no more about it.” He stands and steps past me. “Come on in the kitchen. I’ll make coffee, and we’ll figure this out.”

  Nana watches him go, her eyes shining. “That’s why I fell in love with that man.”

  Then she looks down at me. “C’m’ere, sugar.”

  I rise to my knees and have to stop myself from crawling into her lap. Her arms come around me, and I drop my head to her shoulder. She pats my hair. “It’s all gonna work out fine, Carly-girl. You’ll see.”

  “Fine” is beyond my ability to imagine. But I’m so happy that my baby will get to know these amazing people who raised me. I have huge shoes to fill. I’ll do my best to not look like a little girl, playing dress-up in Nana’s heels.

  Chapter 15

  Austin

  My reaction time is for shit. I should have never bucked off that last bull.” A week later, I reach across the sticky table at The Pancake Palace to snag the syrup. “I’ve had slumps before. This feels different.”

  “Quit worrying. You’ll ride your way out of it. You always do.” Shane shovels in waffles smothered in peanut butter, jelly, and honey.

  “God, you’re giving me diabetes just watching you eat that.”

  “You should talk. You want me to have the waitress bring in an extra bucket of syrup?”

  “Nah, I’m good.”

  He studies me as he chews. “Do you think it has something to do with you and Carly breaking up?”

  Shane knows that Carly and I are done, but not the details. None of his business. And really, none of mine, anymore. “I don’t know. Could be, I suppose.” I take a mouthful of coffee to wash down the wad that’s only part pancake. “All I know is, rodeoing is less fun, every week.”

  “Who are you?” He waves a broad hand in front of my face. “Alien? Walking Dead?”

  I shrug. “I’m thinking about hanging this season up after this weekend.” I can’t bring myself to say—hell, think—that it’ll be for good.

  He stops, mid-chew. “Serious?”

  “Well, I’m sure not winning, so it means I’m taking money out of savings to fund my riding. And that’s backasswards.” Every dollar I take out proves Carly was right, telling me it’s time to quit.

  The truth is, I’m afraid it is time. It takes me twice as long to warm up before a ride, and way longer than that to heal. I’m the oldest guy in the bar, most nights. How could I not have noticed that?

  But it’s more than all those things. Rodeo has been my home for so long, and suddenly it’s like I’m trying to squeeze myself into a little kid’s chair—I just don’t fit.

  But rodeo is all I know. And with nothing and no one waiting anymore…I feel as lost as a maverick calf.

  “So, what’re you going to do, go home?”

  “Yeah. Dad has been wanting me to take over so he can semi-retire.”

  He snorts a laugh. “Like your dad is ever going to retire.”

  “That’s what I thought. But he and Mom are talking about wanting to travel: Grand Old Opry, San Francisco, even an Alaskan Cruise.”

  “Wow. Things are changing, huh?”

  “Yeah, and you know how much I hate change.”

  “But going from the lights and the crowd, to Unforgiven…” He mock-shudders. “I’m glad I’m younger’n you. When I do decide to hang up the riggin’, I’m not going back to that dead burg. I want to go where there are some people.”

  My back hits the cushioned booth. It never occurred to me to go anywhere else. “Where?”

  “I don’t know. Montana?”

  “Oh yeah, because when you think population, Montana is the first place that comes to mind.”

  “True. Maybe Colorado.”

  “All they got there’s hippies, potheads, and Hollywood types, playing rancher.”

  “You got a point. Luckily, I got time to think about it.” He takes a hit of his glass of milk. “But won’t it be weird? Unforgiven is too small for you to not bump into Carly every time you turn around.”

  “Tell me about it. Maybe I’ll just become a hermit. A modern-day mountain man.”

  “You’d look like crap in a beard. Besides, you like people.”

  “There’s that.” The rodeo may be the past, but all I see of the future is endless days, following some shit-smeared cow’s butt. Forever.

  Dang, Carly. Why couldn’t you have just waited?

  Truth hits like a wasp sting. I’m a total ass. She did wait. Nine years’ worth. Trying to hang on to something that was over anyway, cost me everything.

  I don’t have to remember Carly’s face; it’s etched on the back of my eyelids. Her rusty-red corkscrew hair that gets into everything I own. Tawny freckles that make her look like a naughty little girl. Those clear green eyes, looking into me—seeing the person I always meant to be.

  And so clearly, am not.

  * * *

  Carly

  I’m in my office at the diner the next day, sitting in front of my computer, trying to work out how to be a liar. After talking to Nana and Papaw last night, I’ve decided not to tell anyone about the baby until I can figure out how to do it and not hurt the diner. Or myself. It’s not a secret that will keep for long, but I’ll appreciate the reprieve for as long as I can get it. I need some drama downtime.

  It’s weird, going about my day, talking to people I’ve known all my life, knowing something they don’t—something that will change how they see me. I’m ashamed of myself now, for privately looking down on girls who got in trouble in high school. Guess I bought into the stigma. The new Carly won’t be as quick t
o judge; she’s going to look deeper.

  I thought this would be the best time of my life. I sure never expected to be doing this alone. I wonder how Austin’s doing. Is he still mad? I force my mind from that worn track.

  I smile as I type into the search bar: “bassinets.”

  Ten minutes later there’s a knock on the door. I jump and turn off the screen. “Come in.”

  Lorelei sticks her head in. “Have you placed the order yet? We need some coffee filters, and Fish says he needs more dish detergent.”

  I wave her in. “I have it ready, but haven’t placed it yet. Close the door behind you, will you? I need your opinion.” I press the button, and the screen comes to life.

  “Ohhhhh, cuteness!” She leans over my shoulder. “This is really happening, isn’t it?”

  “Yep. What do you think, yellow flowers or blue sheep bedding?”

  She points. “Click on that Dory mobile. No, the one in the right corner.”

  There’s a commotion from the dining room. Both our heads come up when a wavery, high-pitched voice cuts through the babble. Lorelei beats me to the door, but I’m right behind her when she pushes through to the diner.

  Nana stands, fists on hips, in full cry. “Don’t you flirt with me, you drunken rooster. You’ve been trying to get in my whities for decades. I’m married, and a lady, you douche-nugget.”

  Wobbling on a stool at the counter is Manny Stipple, wearing a bowl for a hat. Pea soup drips down his face to plop into his lap. Luckily, he is far enough into today’s alcohol allotment that he just sits staring at Nana with bleary adoration.

  Of course the diner is packed with an ogling early lunch crowd. My stomach drops.

  Nana is in lecture mode, her pointer finger leading the way. “If Leroy was here, you’d be on your ass on the floor, and you know it. You Stipples never had a manner between you.” She sniffs. “And, when is the last time you brushed your teeth?”

  We’d forgotten to give Sassy, the new girl, “Nana training.” If Lorelei had been here, she’d have sounded the alarm, and then headed Nana off at the door. I make it to Nana’s side and grab an elbow. “Nana, what do you need?” I tighten my grip on her elbow and sidle for the door. She has no choice but to follow. I tip my head at Lorelei, hoping she knows it means to get Manny cleaned up, and a free lunch.

  “What’re you assholes staring at?” Nana’s slightly fuzzy chin juts. Not much gets by her, and surely not a diner full of staring patrons. “If one of you had any upbringing at all, you’da helped a lady who’s being accosted by a perv.”

  “Come on, Nana, let’s get some air. Have you seen the new potato peelers at the dime store?” I push open the door and practically drag her out.

  “Dickwads.” She throws over her shoulder.

  I don’t relax until the door falls closed, and we’ve crossed the deserted street to the park, where I lower her onto a bench beside the cannon and release her. “What’s up, Nana?”

  She glances around to be sure we’re alone, then takes my hands. “I couldn’t go on and on around Leroy, but I wanted to tell you how excited I am that I’ll live to see another Beauchamp generation.”

  Nana doesn’t show love easy, but when she does, it’s wide open. Gratitude rushes to my eyes. I have to blink it back. “It’s sure not how I’d planned it, but I’m starting to actually get excited about a baby.”

  “I hate that you felt like you had to go through this alone.” She pats my hand.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Child. After last night, I’d think you’d know you can talk to us about anything.”

  I’m not sure how to put my jumbled thoughts into words. “I had my life all planned out. I knew exactly what, and who, I wanted. When that fell apart, I was so torn up I didn’t want to look ahead. Then, after…after Albuquerque, all I could do was think about getting through, day to day. When I did think about the future, I didn’t see past when the baby will be born.

  “Papaw got me thinking last night.” I look at my sensible shoes. “But how could I even consider any new dreams? I have responsibilities. I’m going to have a baby. I’ve got the diner to run. What the heck would I do with a college degree, even if I could get one?”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  Nana’s tone pulls my head up.

  “It’s not like when I was young. You girls nowadays can do anything you put your mind to, and if somebody doesn’t like it, you can tell ’em to kiss your booty.” She tips her head and squints up at me. “I’m just sorry you never asked us. You don’t have to feel stuck. Hell, if you want to sell the diner, you just go ahead and do it. Your dreams can be whatever you want ’em to be, hon.”

  “You and Papaw were counting on me. I wasn’t going to let you down. But the baby—”

  “Hell, if you’ve got class, I’ll take the baby to Bingo with me. Those old broads would love it. Don’t you worry about that. You just decide what you want to be, then you go bust your ass gettin’ it.”

  “I’d never sell the diner, Nana. But Lorelei has proved that she’s more than capable of running it.” Could I? Could I really? And if I could, what would I choose? I’m not sure. “God, you’re a treasure, Nana.”

  “And I love you, too, darlin’.” She sobers. “Are you sure it’s over with you and Austin?”

  “I’m sure. He loved me as much as he could, but it turned out to be only the parts he liked.” And even if he could forgive me, the baby was a major part he didn’t like. I sigh. “How did you manage to stay with Papaw all these years? He’s a great guy, but you have to admit, he’s not the most evolved man on the planet.”

  Her little eyes get a twinkly, far-away look. “Ah, he puts up with my failings, so I can’t be too hard about his. The toughest is when you’re young. You’re busy working for what you want, and your focus is on what you don’t have.

  “But as you get older, all that crap fades. You see, under all that, friendship and companionship are what you always wanted. Spending your remaining years with someone who knows you better than you know yourself, you relax in their hands, knowing they’ll be there for you. Forever.”

  “Guess you have to pick that kind of guy from the get-go.” My heart gives a heavy thud of regret. I look down at Nana’s hands, blue-veined and knobby, but strong and sure.

  “Ah, hon, all men are pinheaded when they’re young. Hormones may be a lot of fun, but they’re not very damn smart. Don’t count that Davis boy out yet, Carly-girl. Given enough time, he might figure it out.” She pats my cheek, then pushes to her feet. “Now quit holdin’ me up. I gotta get to the dime store and buy some yarn.” She whispers, “I got some baby knittin’ to do.”

  * * *

  Austin

  A week after my decision at the Pancake Palace to quit the circuit, I pull up my parents’ U-shaped drive and shut the truck down. I thought about going to my room over the store downtown, but nixed it fast. I’m not ready to face the rumpled sheets that Carly and I left, last time we were there. Besides, when you’re hurting, you want family.

  The house looks the same, a sprawling adobe box, painted the color of desert sand. Home. Maybe—probably—for good. I’m usually excited to come home to Unforgiven, but sitting here listening to the ticking engine, I realize a bunch of that excitement had to do with Carly. There’s a hole; like a huge chunk of “home” has been ripped away.

  My brother Troy’s new BMW is parked next to the house. Great. And I’d hoped to relax.

  I open the truck door and slide out, making sure my right boot hits first. The left throbs, courtesy of a clumsy bronc. I reach behind the seat and pull out my travel bag of clothes; the gear bag can wait. Maybe forever.

  God, I’m tired. Everything hurts: my foot, my brain, my heart.

  The door opens and Mom steps onto the concrete porch, wearing slacks and a blue blouse. As always, she looks like she’s off to a country club for a game of bridge, even though we don’t have a country club, and no one in Unforgiven plays b
ridge.

  “We were about to send the dogs out hunting you. Where have you been?”

  She steps into the sunshine, and the silver threads in her dark brown hair light up. When did that happen? I don’t remember that from the last time I was here.

  “You’re limping. What happened now?” She sounds worried and weary all at the same time.

  I smile, take a few steps, and wrap her in my arms. “Ah, it’s nothing.”

  She squeezes my waist, then steps back. “You say that every time. Do you need to go to the clinic?”

  I know she won’t be at all sorry to hear I’m coming off the road. “Just bruised. It’s nothing that rest and your chili won’t fix.” I tuck her under my arm and head for the house.

  “You can smell it all the way out here?”

  “Nah. You always make it when you know I’m coming.”

  “I’m that transparent, huh?”

  “Nope. Steadfast.” I kiss the top of her head. “Where’s Dad?”

  “In his office with your brother, grumbling over the tax assessor’s bill.”

  When I step in the door I can smell the chili: rich and spicy. My mouth waters. “Cornbread, too?”

  “You know it’s illegal to serve chili without cornbread in this state.” She pats my waist and lets me go. “Why don’t you go tell them hello? Dinner’s in fifteen.”

  Speaking of country clubs. My brother Troy is five years older—the successful-business one. The one with the money. He’s a financial advisor in Albuquerque, married with two kids and a ranch house in a gated community. And of course, that country club membership. We’re as alike as alligators and assholes. I have no doubt who the asshole is.

  We traveled in different orbits growing up, and he was long gone to UNM by the time I hit high school. I skipped college for the rodeo. That’s not to say we don’t get along; it’s just that we can’t seem to hold up a conversation for more than two minutes. I walk the hall to the study.

  “Dad, putting bucking stock on your land is a risky proposition. What you’ve been doing all these years has funded your retirement. Now’s not the time for risk.”