The Last True Cowboy

by Laura Drake

  “How the hell are we going to get that bed down the stairs?”

  “Same way it came up.” I slap him on the shoulder. “Cheer up, this time we’ll have gravity on our side.”

  He shakes his head. “I’ll start in the kitchen.”

  Might as well do the hard part first. I peel a trash bag off the roll, step to the bed, and hold my breath while I tear the sheets off. If I reacted to stale perfume, the smell of these sheets would probably take me to my knees. I dump them in the trash bag, pull the drawstring closed, and toss the bag to the door. The rest should be less lethal.

  In an hour, everything is loaded in the back of the pickup and we’re on our way out of town. I wouldn’t trade my past for anything, but that’s gone now. It’s time to buckle down and get to work on the rest of my life.

  I’ve looked around, but rodeoing isn’t great experience for many jobs that pay more than chasing cows. And I don’t want to work under some other man’s thumb, if I can help it.

  Hey, I have a financial expert riding shotgun. I’ve got nothing to lose but a little pride, and if I don’t like his advice, I can always ignore it. “Why do you say I shouldn’t go into the rough-stock business?”

  “I never said you shouldn’t. I said Dad shouldn’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Dad’s at retirement age. That’s not a time to take risks. He needs to be in low-interest, low-risk investments.” He glances at me. “The time for taking risks is when you’re your age.”

  The clouds of worry that have been sitting on my head lighten a bit. “No one better at risk than a rough-stock rider.”

  “Yeah, you’ve got the opposite problem. You can’t just jump in. You have to consider the risk, and put thresholds into place to minimize it.”

  “Okay, so tell me.”

  We talk business until I pull into the dooryard of the homestead house, questions and ideas dancing in my head.

  Troy steps out of the truck, grabs a box from the bed, and looks up at the porch. “I’ve always loved this old house.”

  “It’s going to be even better when I’m done with it.” I pull out another box and head for the stairs.

  “What are you planning?”

  We walk inside. “Put that down and I’ll show you.” I take him on a tour, pointing out what I’ll refurbish, and what gets replaced entirely. I end in the kitchen. “This room has to be totally gutted. Old-fashioned may be in, until you try to cook on fifty-year-old appliances. I’m going to sell this stuff to an antique dealer. They’ve got some great stuff out there now, like a kitchen faucet that looks like an old hand pump, hammered copper sinks, stuff like that.”

  Troy leans in the doorway. “This all sounds great, but it’s going to cost a fortune.”

  “I’m going to do the work I can myself, to save money. I’ve got nothing but time.”

  He looks around the room. “You know, Mom and Dad are great to put me up, but Mom tiptoes around with a worried look, like I’m a hand grenade without the pin. Dad tries to act normal around me, but can’t, quite.”

  “Totally get that. Part of the reason I moved out.”

  “How about I move out here, with you?”

  I’m beyond surprised. First, I figured his banishment was short-term—like a week, short. Second, he’s not exactly the “roughing it” type. Both of which show me that I’m not the only “lost boy” in the Davis clan. “What the hell happened between you and Darcy?”

  He walks over and, hands in pockets, stares out the window over the sink for a minute. Probably deciding if he can trust me far enough to tell me. He doesn’t turn. “It started out about the kids.”

  Their two kids, Natalia and Nate, are six and eight. Or wait, is it seven and nine? I see them only a couple times a year, so it’s hard to keep track.

  “You know Nate’s always been crazy for the rodeo.” He shoots me a laser glare. “Which I totally blame you for.”

  “Me? He’s never even seen me ride.”

  “Tell me. He bugs the crap out of me to take him. He follows your rodeos on the internet. And you did buy him a rope and that roping dummy, last birthday.”

  A coal of pride warms my chest. “Well, what’s wrong with him doing a little mutton-busting? There’s worse things.”

  “Not according to Darcy. If she had her way, his school uniform would be made of bubble wrap.”

  Yeah, I forgot. Public schools aren’t good enough for Darcy’s kids.

  He shrugs. “But really, it’s more than that. The crack opened between us a long time ago, but I didn’t see it until I fell smack into it.”

  “Y’all always looked like the perfect couple from the outside.”

  “So did you and Carly.”

  “Ah, tit for tat.”

  “Yeah, and it’s your turn.” He crosses his arms.

  I feel like we’re crossing something else, here. The gulf between us, maybe. Well, looks like we’re going to share the same doghouse, so I tell him. Not the pregnant part. I give him the important part. “She got tired of waiting. She dumped me. Forever.”

  “Ah, bullshit. She’ll be back.”

  “See? That’s where everyone was wrong. Especially me.” I shake my head. “Stupidity cost the best thing that ever happened to me.”

  He gives me the side-eye. “Why not go prostrate yourself? Grovel? Beg for forgiveness? Carly’s a good-hearted girl. She’ll give you another chance.”

  “It’s more complicated than that. She’s changed. Seems like neither of us have any more chances to give.”

  “So, she finally realized what I always knew. You’re a cur dog.”

  I glance over. “You’d better smile when you say that.”

  “I’m as out of smiles as Carly is chances.” A muscle works in his jaw. “So how about me moving in?”

  I want to know more about him and Darcy, and about how long he’s banished for, but I’ve pushed enough. For now. “Well, I don’t know.” I hike my butt onto the counter. “How about some bartering?”

  When his eyes narrow, I know he’s remembering when I traded him my BB gun for his arrowhead collection. I forgot to tell him the seals were cracked. “What?”

  “You help me write a plan for my business, and you can have the master bedroom.” No way I could stay in that room anyway. That was going to be Tig’s and my bedroom.

  He thinks a minute, looking for a catch. “You throw in Wi-Fi, and you’ve got a deal.”

  “And I might need your help with some of the repairs around here.”

  “You always were a negotiator. Maybe you’ll make a good horse trader yet.”

  We meet in the middle of the room and shake on it. “Now, let’s get the rest of this stuff unpacked.”

  He raises his hands. “Not part of the deal, bro.”

  I shrug. “Your choice. Walk three miles to the house, or help me, then we’ll go get your stuff.”

  He sighs. “Told you. Unforgiven is nothing but grunt work.”

  * * *

  Carly

  I swipe curls and a drip of sweat out of my eye, then go back to flipping burgers. Fish took the afternoon off to testify for a friend in a custody battle. The other cook doesn’t come in until three, so I’m it for the lunch hour rush.

  Business has been better than usual. My guess is that Dusty Banks, down at the Lunch Box Café, raised his prices again. I just hope our business doesn’t fall off with my news.

  “Table six said their french fries were cold.” Lorelei pushes a plate of fries through the window.

  “Crap, fries!” I pull up the fryer basket, and hot grease spatters my hand. A little dark, but they’ll have to do. I throw salt on them and leave them to drain. I reach under the counter and lift the five-gallon jar of hamburger dill chips to refill that bin.

  “Order up.” Sassy stuffs a ticket on the crowded wheel.

  “Buggers in a basket, I’ll never catch up,” I mutter.

  “Scoot over.” A deep voice comes from behind me.

 
I turn to see Danny Jorgensen, my wholesaler, pulling an apron over his head.

  “Get out. I can’t let you help. It’s against my insurance codicils.”

  He bumps my hip with his. Actually, his hip hits my waist. He’s a huge Swede, with blue eyes and white-blond hair. He would look at home behind a horse-drawn plow in Wisconsin. “You can tell them I overpowered you. Go on, read the orders to me.”

  “You know how to cook?”

  “I know how to sew buttons on, clean house, and change a diaper. My mother believed that a man needed to be able to do anything.”

  “Wow. A unicorn.” I want to argue, but I’m too tired. I have a hard time getting through a normal day, much less an on-your-feet/stressed-out/grease-fest like this one. “You are an angel, Danny. I owe you a huge order.”

  “You’re going to need one, at this rate.” He drops a basket of onion rings, then preps the plates like a pro, and slides burgers onto the buns.

  I carry them to the window, dump the cold fries, and hand Lorelei a fresh plate of them.

  She eyes it. “Well, they’re hot, anyway.” She slides all the plates onto a tray, then tips her head at Danny, and mouths He wants to ask you out and swishes away.

  I glare at her back and start reading off orders.

  I’ve only been out with one guy in my life, and that was a natural progression…Do I want to go out with Danny? With anyone? I can’t imagine it. But I’ve got to find a way to ease into my future somehow. Not to get involved—I don’t see that happening—but to go out on a date. It would be a start.

  An hour later, the order wheel is almost empty, and I swear we’ve fed two-thirds of the town. “Okay, Jorgensen, you’re fired.” I turn, and he’s right there, smiling, a plate of fish and chips in his hand.

  “Here. And don’t tell me you already ate, because I know it’d be a lie.”

  I can feel my ears get hot. Am I that transparent?

  He looks down at me. “You look pale. Why don’t you sit down to eat that?”

  “Only if you let me fix you something. Even angels have to eat sometime.”

  He steps to the grill and lifts a plate full of triple cheeseburger, with fries falling off the edge. “Already did.”

  I put my head through the window. Lorelei is chatting with April Hollister, who works at the drugstore. “Hey, Lorelei, will you hold the fort for ten, so I can eat?”

  She winks. “You take all the time you want, Carly.”

  I shoot her a laser glare, then lead Danny to my office. His shoulders barely fit through the door, and the chair disappears beneath him. He balances his plate on his knee until I clear a spot on my desk. “Sorry.”

  “No need to be sorry.”

  His gaze lands on me and sticks. I hold myself still, though inside, I’m squirming like a kid who needs to go to the bathroom. I know male interest when I see it.

  I push another pile of paper to the side so I can put down my plate. “Thanks so much for helping. Seriously. I was in trouble.”

  “It was my pleasure. It’s not often I get to rescue a damsel in distress.”

  That rankles. I was in a bind but I’m hardly the distressed damsel type. “Eat. You earned it.” Finally, his tractor-beam gaze slides away, and I can move.

  There’s no room in here. There’s no air. He takes it all up.

  We eat in silence for a few.

  He pats his mouth with his napkin, a prissy move for such a big man. “I wondered if you’d like to go to the movies with me one night. Either at the Civic, or in Albuquerque.”

  Danny’s a good guy. He’s polite, makes a good living, and is good-looking. Then there’s Bean. It’s going to need a daddy.

  God, am I that calculating? That cold, looking at a guy for what he can offer me? No. I get to decide who I’m to become. If I go out on a date, it’ll be because I’m interested in a man. I can recite all the reasons why I should be interested, but the fact is, right or wrong, I’m not ready.

  “I’m sorry, Danny. I’m—”

  “Not over Austin.” He shakes his head.

  “Oh, I’m over Austin. I’m just not ready to date yet.” Until my secret is out, Bean has made dating a bit…sticky.

  His white-blond eyebrows furrow. “I get that. But I reserve the right to ask again, later.”

  “Fair enough.” I dip a forkful of fish in my tartar sauce. “Friends?”

  He smiles at me. “For now.”

  I smile back. Maybe, given enough perspective, I can be fair to him, myself, and my baby. After all, my dreams haven’t changed: a man I love in bed beside me every night, our kids sleeping down the hall. All I need to do is find the guy who matches the picture in my head.

  It’d be easier if that picture still didn’t look a lot like Austin.

  Chapter 18

  Austin

  Two weeks after Troy’s moved in, I walk into the dining room to find him, laptop perched on the card table, working. “Shit. Do you ever do anything else?”

  He doesn’t even look up. “I seem to remember spending half the day tearing out walls upstairs.”

  “Yeah, but every other waking minute you’re on that computer.” I pull out a chair and settle carefully. They’re kind of spindly. “No wonder Darcy—”

  “Don’t say it.” He holds a hand in front of my face. “You’ve been ragging at me about my work since I moved in. I’m sick of it. And my wife is none of your business, either, so fuck off.” Though he hasn’t taken his eyes off the computer screen, his face is red and scrunched up like a little kid, fixing to pitch a fit.

  “Hey, I’m trying to help you.”

  “Well, you’re not helping. Why don’t you focus on your own pathetic self?”

  “At least I’m trying to move on, instead of hiding out with my head buried in work.”

  “Seriously?” He looks at me over his reading glasses. “How are you moving on?”

  “I’m working on the house. We’re going to get a plan together for the business.”

  “There’s a great future. Living by yourself in the middle of Nowhere, New Mexico, with a bunch of animals for company.” He lifts a thumb. “Score, bro.”

  I reach over and slam the laptop closed.

  He jerks his mushed fingers out. “What the—”

  “Okay, so we’re both pathetic. Question is, what are we going to do about it?”

  “If I knew that, I wouldn’t be bunking with your sorry ass.”

  “So, why are you?” But after living with him for two weeks, I know. “Darcy threw you out because you work all the time, didn’t she?”

  He flinches, and I know I’ve hit a bull’s-eye.

  “Hey, I’ve built a successful business here. I’m managing a combined portfolio of tens of millions of dollars. I’ve got to be up on the latest in the stock market, the bond market, trends in gold, and economic forecasts. I’ve got to be available for my clients.” His tone is even, but his coloring isn’t.

  “Why?”

  “What do you mean, why? Aren’t you listening? I’ve got to make a living.”

  “Why? I mean, Darcy’s rich in her own right.”

  His face gets redder. “So, I should just mooch off my wife’s money? Is that what you’re saying?” He’s out of his chair.

  I hold up my hands in truce. “I remember wondering, when you two started dating, how you had the guts to ask her out. I mean, we never wanted for anything, but our family isn’t in their league. Did any of them look down on you?”

  His eyes slide away. “Nothing blatant. You know, whispers that stop when you come in the room, stuff like that.” He drops back into the chair. “Her dad had a ‘talk’ with me, when I asked for his permission to marry Darcy.”

  “You have more guts than me.”

  We sit for a minute in silence.

  “Relationships are only easy on Netflix.”

  “Yeah, unless it’s House, or Six Feet Under, or House of Cards, or…”

  “Maybe relationships just aren’t easy.”


  “Mine used to be.”

  He snorts. “Sorry, but that’s because you were the big man, and she followed you around like a puppy.”

  That stings. “How the hell would you know? You’re never around.”

  “Doesn’t take long to see. Sounds like Carly grew up, and wanted equal billing.” He studies my face, and nods to himself. “Good for her.”

  “You know what?” I stand, and the chair falls behind me. “I’ve had enough armchair analyzing for one day.”

  “Hey, you started it.”

  “Well, I’m finishing it.” I slam out of the house.

  Troy may be full of shit, but his words sound familiar. Carly, Mom, and now Troy, who knows me least of all. I grab the bucket of nails I left beside the front door. The steps are wobbly, and banging nails would feel good right about now.

  Did I expect Tig to tag after me? Not consciously. But looking back…maybe. I always meant for us to be a team, but then I dictated terms like I was the leader, leaving her to wait. And wait, for me to do what I’d promised.

  I put a handful of nails in my mouth, and start pounding.

  She must have felt like I did, when I realized she hadn’t even thought of my feelings that night in the truck: used, unappreciated, taken for granted. And she must have felt that way for years.

  I told her that I was afraid of failure, and that’s true. But it’s also an excuse a boy uses, not a man. Scared or not, a man takes care of those he loves. I was so wrapped up in me I didn’t see her.

  I smack my thumb, and almost swallow the nails. Shit, that hurts.

  Now, Tig’s facing the hardest time of her life, and I’ve let her down. Again.

  If only she hadn’t gone to Albuquerque…

  I imagine her sperm donor as the nail, and it’s flush with the board in one bang.

  I can’t let go of Tig. It’s impossible. I love her still and always.

  I also know the baby is the only innocent in all this mess.

  * * *

  Carly

  I told Jess I wanted to take a trip to Albuquerque, to pick out my present for her baby at a real live baby store, instead of finding something online. My second reason was to tell her, in private. I look out the window of her SUV and try to pull in a full breath. I don’t know if I’m more afraid of her reaction to the news, or her anger, for not telling her earlier. Doesn’t matter, though; it just has to be done. “Jess.”