The Last True Cowboy

by Laura Drake

  But I did that before, that incredible night in his truck. And I hurt him. Much as I want to, I’m not stealing comfort again. I’ve got to be honest.

  Austin is still fixing me with those radar-love eyes, reminding me of every other time I’ve seen that look of dogged devotion on his face. When he saw me in my prom dress. When I won Rodeo Queen. When I learned to ride his dirt bike—above me, every single time we made love.

  He loves me. That’s never been in question. I know it, down to my DNA.

  I’m still in love with the guy I thought I had, all those years. Question is, are the guy I love and this guy the same guy?

  But it’s bigger than that. I’m afraid. Of losing my heart again, to be sure, but more afraid of old familiarity. That’s why seeing his boots under Nana’s table put my back up. What if the old Carly comes back with the old relationship? I already know from the night in the truck how weak I am. How easy it is to fall back into Austin. I’ve fought so hard to change. What if change reverses faster than a good cutting horse?

  The words are in my mouth, I’ve only to open it and spill them. Even though I don’t want to. “I can’t.”

  The pain on his face eats through me.

  He’s bared his soul to me. I owe him the truth. “You know me. I love hard. I love forever. I’ve been in love with one man, my whole life. But I’m not the same woman. Lots of our problems were my fault. I didn’t open my mouth and tell you what I thought, and why. I went along.” I reach out and touch his cheek. “I want to grab onto hope and hug it to my torn-up heart. But I’m not that innocent little girl anymore. I’ve had hard lessons, too. Soon there’ll be a tiny helpless human depending on me. Mistakes I make are going to hurt her.” I cradle my belly with both hands. “I’d gladly risk myself, for just a chance of having you again, Austin. But I won’t risk her.”

  He takes a deep breath and nods. “You’re right. I don’t really know the new Carly. And the way things are, you have no way of knowing who I am. And all the presents I buy and all the rooms I paint aren’t going to show you that. So, I have a solution.” He puts out his hands. “Will you go out with me?”

  “What? No.” I take a step back.

  “How are either of us going to know who the other is, unless we try to find out?” He takes a step forward. “If you meant it, about wishing, don’t you owe it to us—the us we’ve been, all these years—to find out, before you throw us away forever?”

  Maybe another woman could tell him no, but I’m not her. I miss him so bad I wake from dreams in the small hours of the morning, my body aching, my lips missing his touch. Odds are, he’s not that man in my dream. But how can I let go until I know for sure? “I have opinions now. I’m saying what I think. You may find you don’t like that me.”

  “Well, that’s what we’ll find out, then.” He holds out his hand. “Now, let’s go eat your Nana’s spaghetti. We’ll figure the rest out as we go.”

  * * *

  Austin

  I take the steps to the porch of the homestead house in one bound, throw open the door, and yell up the stairs. “I have a date with the best girl in town!”

  “Seriously?” Troy’s head appears at the top of the steps.

  “How did you go gray in the three hours I’ve been gone?”

  He walks down the stairs, scrubbing a snowstorm of white out of his hair. “I’m plastering the master bath, you idiot. Tell me what happened.”

  I head for the kitchen. “I’ll get the beer. Meet you on the porch.”

  While we drink beer and admire the rising harvest moon, I explain the night’s events. It’s warm, but the smothering heat is gone. Maybe fall is finally on the way. “So, there I was, my boots under her Nana’s table, eating spaghetti just like we’re still in high school and all the years between never happened.”

  “I’m glad. Even a bumbling fool deserves a second chance.”

  “And I’m not going to screw it up this time.” I raise my beer in a salute. “Hey, did you tell Darcy yet that you’re an unemployed loser?”

  “Yeah.” He stares out at the grassy plain.

  “Well, what did she say?” Please tell me I didn’t give him bad advice. How awful would it be if my life is finally floating, and his hit an iceberg of my making?

  He turns to me. “She thought it was the most romantic gesture in the history of man.”

  “Not bad for a walnut brain, eh?”

  He smiles. “I’m not out of the doghouse yet, but at least we’re talking. And we’re going out tomorrow night.”

  I point my finger at him like it’s a gun. “No business talk.”

  “The only business I’ll entertain is funny business.”

  “I knew you had my genes in you somewhere.”

  He throws his bottle cap at me. “Oh, and so you know, I put out feelers to get you an investor in your business.”

  “Wait. I thought you closed up shop.”

  “It was the last thing I put out there.”

  “Wow, thanks. But how does this work? I don’t need a partner.”

  The full moon makes it easy to see his head shake. “That’s not how it works. They’re just investors. They’re looking for a return on their money. They analyze your business plan and decide if they want to invest. Then they move on to the next. They’ll give you the five years you need to show a profit, but they’ll want quarterly reports.”

  The roll of barbed wire that’s been living in my gut dissolves. Five years. If things go well, by then, C&A Contractors could be cranking, Carly and I could be married with two kids, and another on the way. Maybe the dream isn’t dead. It could just be beginning. A wad of gratitude lodges in my throat. “Damn, Troy. I don’t know what to say…”

  “Don’t thank me until someone bites.”

  We sit in silence for a time.

  “You know,” Troy says, “it’s a strange kind of alchemy, that both our lives have the potential to change from shit to gold.”

  “I sucked at chemistry, so I’ll take your word for it.” I raise my beer bottle. “But here’s to science.”

  “Amen, brother.” He clinks his bottle with mine. “Where are you going on this date?”

  “Don’t know. At first, I thought about taking her to a nice restaurant in Albuquerque. But that might bring up bad memories. Nowhere around here is special enough.”

  “Where was the best date you two ever had? You could go there.”

  “I thought about that, too. But taking a pregnant woman up on top of the water tower probably wouldn’t be smart.”

  “Jesus, Austin.”

  “Hey, you asked.” I tip my head back and watch the moon, enjoying the buzz that isn’t from the beer. “I’ll come up with something.”

  Chapter 23

  Carly — a week later

  I’m not the first at work anymore; doctor’s orders. I sleep in, eat a leisurely breakfast, and wander in around ten.

  The bells on the door tinkle when I walk in. I look around, dumbfounded, afraid to believe what I see. There isn’t a spare seat anywhere.

  Lorelei beams from behind the counter, where she’s taking orders from the line of guys picking up sack lunches before work.

  “Hey, Carly.” Pat Stark raises his coffee mug in salute. “How you feelin’, darlin’?”

  “What…why…where have y’all been?”

  Moss Jones turns on his bar stool. “Ah, Dusty, over to the Lunch Box, lowered his prices. But over the weekend he jacked them back up again, so we’re back.”

  That’s so not what I expected to hear. A tidepool of emotion opens in my chest, swirling and churning. “You mean it wasn’t because I’m the unmarried pregnant girl who let you all down?”

  Quad Reynolds frowns. “Carly Sue, I’m surprised at you. Do you think that everybody loved you for being Homecoming queen? For all those barrel ribbons? It ain’t.” He scratches his head, and dandruff drifts onto his black T-shirt. “It’s ’cuz you’re our Carly. You’re one of us, and we wouldn’t trade you
for nothin’. And when you have that baby, we’re gonna love it, too, ’specially if you teach it to cook good. Right?” He looks around.

  “Darned straight,” says my third-grade teacher from booth three.

  “Dusty Banks’s food is so greasy I had the runs,” Moss Jones says.

  “I hope that baby looks like her hot Nana,” Manny Stipple slurs from the bar.

  Something inside that was wound tight loosens. I hadn’t let myself know how much I was worried about this, in case it hurt the bean. I swipe my cheeks, walk over to Quad, and lay a big old kiss on his cheek. “Thank you, Quad. I think that’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me, ever.”

  He blushes to the roots of his hair, but when his arm tightens around me, I sidle away. Don’t want to give him the wrong idea.

  “I love you all. There’s nowhere else I’d want to raise my baby but right here in this town.” I have no idea how the town got the name Unforgiven, but I can attest that it’s a lie.

  I put my head down and truck for the kitchen, before I blubber all over the floor. “Y’all are the best.”

  * * *

  Carly

  I check myself in my dresser mirror one more time, smooth my new peach plaid maternity top over my bump, and push down the butterflies partying in my stomach.

  Get a grip, Carly. It’s not like you haven’t been on a date with Austin Davis before.

  All the facts and stats aren’t helping. The butterflies crank up the music and rock out.

  Thanks to all the rest I’m getting, at least I don’t look like Night of the Living Dead. I may even have a bit of that pregnancy glow the blogs talk about. I try to tuck my hair behind my ear, but it springs out. I thought about pulling it back, but Austin likes it down. He likes to slide his fingers through it. He likes to fist his hands in it when…Stop.

  I sure have that glow now. I shake a finger at the mirror. “You are keeping a tight rein on those wild hormones tonight. No. Sex.”

  Hell, I can’t even ride herd on a bunch of butterflies; how am I going to make it through the night without jumping his bones?

  I glance to the crib. Because, Bean.

  Now if I can remember that, when he does that thing with his tongue…Okay, no kissing. I’ll be safe, then.

  “Missy, your date is here,” Nana bellows down the hall.

  I glare at the mirror. “No. Kissing.”

  I fluff my hair, turn, check my butt in the mirror, and the butterflies carry me to the door. I kiss my fingers and touch them to my parents’ photo in the hall on my way by. What would my mother have told me, if she were here? Probably to keep my knees together. Good advice, Mom.

  Austin is standing, hat in hand, in the kitchen.

  I think Nana is more nervous than I am. She’s flitting around like a hummingbird on speed. “Now, you two go have fun. Do you have your key, Carly? Don’t worry about rushing home. Where are you going? Oh, never mind, you can tell me later. Y’all get on out of here. Go do what young people do.”

  Austin turns for the door, and she smiles and winks at me.

  I mouth, Behave.

  He holds the screen door open for me and I walk out on a butterfly rave.

  Austin hands me up into his suspiciously shiny truck. “Where are we going?”

  “I thought we could run down to the Rowdy Rooster. The Squeaky Wheels are playing tonight. Is that okay?”

  Him and me, walking into the Unforgiven watering hole on a Friday night? Uh, no. I’ve been in the white-hot spotlight of gossip enough lately, thank you very much.

  But he’s standing in the open door, looking so hopeful, I can’t find the heart to crush him, this early in our first date. “Sounds fun.”

  His bright smile in the cab light is my reward. He shuts the door and jogs around the front. It’s not like our dating would be a secret long anyway. Not in Unforgiven.

  I pull in the smell of Austin’s truck and hold it in my lungs. His cologne, dust, and the pine tree air freshener hanging from the mirror spark so many memories. Many of them starring me, naked. I take a moment to appreciate; I’m somewhere I thought I’d never ever be again—on a date with Austin Davis. My nerves settle a bit.

  I’m going to party with the butterflies tonight.

  But no kissing.

  Austin hops in, fires the truck, and we head for town. “So, how are you feeling? Is the baby okay?”

  “I’m great. No worries.”

  “Good.”

  “How are you doing?”

  “Finer’n frog’s hair.”

  “Good.”

  The only sound is the hum of the road. We never run out of things to talk about. But we don’t really know who we are now. But we know who we were. Maybe old memories will help. “Hey, remember that time Bubba Belkins got drunk and tried to rope that coyote?”

  He chuckles. “He’d a done it, too, if he’d had his heeler with him. Remember when…”

  Our memories melt the ice all the way through town and down the lonely stretch of highway on the other side. In a few minutes, the neon lights of the red, ragtag rooster atop the bar appear on our right. The parking lot is full.

  We’re still reminiscing as we walk in. Austin is laughing.

  I’m not saying the bar comes to a standstill; of course it doesn’t.

  It goes to slo-mo. Beers hesitate on the way to open mouths. Conversations stop mid-word. People either stare or studiously avoid staring. But when I look down, I can feel their eyes crawling all over us.

  “Come on.” Austin takes my elbow and leads me to a tiny table in the corner, whispering, “Sorry. I should have thought…”

  “It was bound to happen. Let them get their ogling over with, and things will go back to normal.”

  Patty Pederson, the waitress, flounces over. “What can I get y’all?”

  “A Lone Star, and…” He looks at me.

  “Iced tea?”

  “Sure thing. Be right back.”

  We sit, trying not to look around. Which narrows our choices to each other. His face has changed. It’s subtle, but it’s there. As if the last of his youth is gone; hardened to a man I’m not positive I know.

  His eyes are soft on me. “I always knew pregnancy would look good on you. You look like a Christmas Madonna.”

  I shift in my seat, tickled and embarrassed at the same time. “Um. Thanks. How’s your business coming?”

  He lights up. “It’s looking up. Troy is working on getting me some investors that could move up my timeline. And in case it comes through, I’m getting in contact with a couple of contractors to buy stock, and scouting out semen.”

  Patty arrives in time to catch the very end. “Well, you go, Austin.”

  His turn to blush.

  She drops off our drinks, winks, and walks away.

  “Good for you. It was always your dream.”

  “Part of it, anyway.”

  I don’t want to see the longing in his eyes, but I’m unable to look away.

  The band starts up with the Friday night clash of sound you’ll find in any country bar in America, but it hits my ears like the scream of a train wreck.

  “This was a bad idea.” Austin throws down a twenty. “Let’s go somewhere else.”

  Between the noise and the scrutiny, I don’t care enough to ask where. I stand. “I’m ready.”

  * * *

  Austin

  I steer onto the road back to town, my fists tight on the wheel. What now? I should’ve realized the bar would be the last place we should go. People around here need to get a life. I wanted to punch every eye that wandered down to her waist. But what now? Albuquerque is out and everything in Unforgiven is buttoned up tight.

  Carly’s looking out at the moonlit plain through the window. So odd, to see her way over there. She’s always fit best right beside me. Maybe, someday—

  “Have you ever thought about leaving Unforgiven?”

  “No.” Surprise makes the word bounce off the windows, and I lower my voice. “As big
a pain in the ass as this place can be, it’s home. Have you?”

  “Yeah.” The word has the melancholy of a distant train whistle at night, and it’s another reminder that even though this Carly looks the same, she’s not the same.

  “What made you stay?”

  “Same as you. This is home.” But her glance tells me way more than her words.

  It’s me. Hope holds for a heartbeat, until I recognize the sadness in her tone. Something deep inside me tears, and the liquid released rises to my eyes. “Ah, Carly. Do you know how sorry I am?”

  “I do.” She turns a bit and leans her back against the door. “And I’m sorry, too. Instead of talking to you about how I felt, I just whined and nagged at you. No wonder you thought I wasn’t serious—why the entire town didn’t think I was serious. You’re not the only one who had growing up to do.”

  Suddenly, I know where we’re going. Where we need to be tonight. I turn at the junction and follow the railroad tracks to the high school.

  “Why are we stopping here?”

  “You’ll see.” I park in the student lot, right in front of the sign:

  UNFORGIVEN HIGH—HOME OF THE FIGHTIN’ BILLY GOATS

  “Man, this brings back memories.” Her voice still sounds of deep blue sadness.

  I step out and pull the sleeping bag I never unpacked from behind the seat. Then I walk around and hold her door, so she can slide out. I take her hand, and our boots crunch on the gravel until we reach the grass of the football field.

  “Where are we going?”

  “You’ll see.” Certainty spreads the closer we get. Luckily, tonight is an away game—we’re alone, and the gridlines shine ghostly in the light of the full moon. At the thirty-yard line, I stop, unroll the sleeping bag, and invite her to sit. The night is windless, warm, and the scent of crushed grass rises when I settle. “Do you remember?”

  Looking out over the field, she wraps her arms around her knees and nods.

  “We rode the float right onto the field for Homecoming. Right about here, I looked over at you, in your gold dress, crown, and red velvet cape. You smiled up at me, with your eyeshadow and freckles—you were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. I’d known it for a long time, but that was the first time I told you that I loved you.”