More Than a Cowboy (Reckless, Arizona)

by Cathy McDavid

  “You think you’re so much better than me.” Ernie shoved Deacon in the shoulder. “I have news for you, pal. You’re nothing but a loser. Then and now.”

  “Watch what you’re saying.”

  “You think you’re smart. Like asking a lot of questions is going to make it look like you didn’t leave the gates open. Everybody knows you did. And if they don’t, I’m going to remind them.”

  “How dare you!” The voice belonged to Liberty.

  Deacon and Ernie both turned to find her glaring at them.

  “After all he’s done for you,” she said, “you should be thanking him. Not picking a fight.”

  “He hasn’t done jack squat for me,” Ernie spat out.

  Deacon ignored the staring eyes and straining ears of nearby people.

  “That attorney who’s helping you with back disability payments?” Liberty said. “Deacon’s doing all the legwork for free.”

  Instead of being grateful or contrite, Ernie growled, “I didn’t ask for his help.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Liberty insisted. “You’re getting it.”

  “You can do better than him.”

  “I disagree.” Liberty moved to stand next to Deacon.

  Was Ernie interested in her? Deacon didn’t think so. More likely his dislike of Deacon was responsible for his surliness. Nonetheless, Deacon wasn’t taking any chances.

  “Let’s go.” He grabbed hold of her hand and, without asking, led her out of the honky-tonk.

  “Sorry,” he said when they were outside. “Did you want your wine?”

  Liberty made a sound of disgust. “He was unbelievably rude.”

  Deacon didn’t release her hand as they crossed the parking lot to his truck. “Don’t worry about it. He’s angry.”

  “The accident was years ago. Time to move on.”

  “Easy for us to say. We don’t walk with a permanent limp and wear a colostomy bag.”

  She stopped and, because their hands were still joined, she pulled him to a stop, too. “You’re much too nice for your own good, Deacon.”

  “I feel bad for the guy. I know what it’s like to have things rough.”

  “But you didn’t let it turn you into a bitter semi-hermit.”

  “I could have. The only difference is someone helped me. When I didn’t deserve it and didn’t appreciate it. Not right away.”

  “Is that why you’re helping Ernie?”

  “I’m helping him so I can take a deduction on my income taxes for the hours I put in.”

  “Liar.” She smiled. “You’re paying it forward.”

  “Come on. It’s late.”

  Opening his truck door, he helped her up onto the seat. As much as they’d touched tonight, at the arena and here, on the dance floor and off, it was starting to feel natural. And good. Really good. Deacon was going to hate for the evening to end, but end it must.

  “Was there ever anything between you and Ernie?” he asked.

  “Romantically? You can’t be serious.”

  “He seemed protective of you.”

  “It’s probably a carryover from Mom. She went out of her way to do things for him after the accident. She still does, once in a while.”

  “Like free passes to the rodeos?”

  “He usually accepts. I think he refused only because of you.”

  It was a short drive to the Easy Money and the Becketts’ house. The arena was empty and shut down for the night, the place in darkness except for security lights. They’d barely reached the driveway to the house when Liberty leaned forward in her seat, her jaw dropping. “I’ll be damned.”

  “Something wrong?”

  “That’s Mercer’s truck.”

  Deacon pulled in behind it, mindful of the barking ranch dogs that came out to greet them. “He’s here?” It was more a question than a statement.

  “I guess so.” She nodded toward the road. “Let’s go.”

  “You want to leave?”

  “Yes.” She said it as if he was missing the obvious. “I’m not interrupting them. They need to sort through their differences.”

  “You and Mercer need to sort through your differences, too,” he reminded her.

  “We will.”

  “You’re stalling. Using your parents’ reconciliation as an excuse not to deal with him.”

  She looked affronted. “I’m giving them some space. You saw them kissing earlier.”

  Deacon had to laugh. “How ’bout a coffee at the Flat Iron?”

  “I’d rather go to your house.”

  He almost choked. “My house?”

  “It’s quieter,” she said matter-of-factly. “We haven’t had that talk yet.”

  Okay, she didn’t mean what he’d first thought she did.

  “Sure.” He put the truck in Reverse, on edge despite her assurances that only conversation was in store for them.

  During the short drive to his house, one thought kept running through Deacon’s head. He hadn’t ever been alone with Liberty. Really alone.

  He trusted himself not to take advantage of the situation and her. Mercer was still his client and stood like a brick wall between them.

  That didn’t guarantee it would be easy for him. In fact, Deacon was convinced it would be anything but.

  * * *

  “MY FRIEND CHECKED the county court records. Ernie never sued your family or the insurance company.”

  “Why would he?” Liberty drank from the can of root beer Deacon had given her. He’d offered her something stronger, but two glasses of wine was her limit. Not that she’d finished the second glass. But it was getting late.

  She probably should have let Deacon drop her off at home. But the thought of her parents together... It was too good of an opportunity to resist. Only later did she remember that Cassidy and Benjy were there.

  Come to think of it, she was better off with Deacon. Cassidy wouldn’t be happy about their parents and this latest development, and Liberty wasn’t up for a lecture. She’d had too much fun dancing with Deacon.

  He was right about her needing to sort things out with Mercer. She’d been avoiding any serious one-on-ones with him, convincing herself the reason was her conflicting feelings. Mercer being protective of her earlier today only further confused her.

  “Why would Ernie sue us?” she asked. “He received a settlement from the insurance company.”

  “Not much of one.”

  “You’re wrong.” Last week, Liberty had wheedled the amount out of her mother. “It was a lot.”

  “It probably seems like a lot to you. But, actually, as far as settlements go for that kind of accident and one involving permanent injuries, it was on the low end of the scale.”

  She rubbed her thumb along the condensation collecting on the outside of her soda can. “Okay, the settlement was low-ish. Why does that matter?”

  “Who takes less when they can easily have more? It’s a red flag.”

  Deacon sipped from his own root beer. They sat on his couch in the family room. The entertainment center held a large flat-screen TV, currently off, and an audio system, currently on. Deacon, it turned out, had eclectic music tastes. They were listening to a soft jazz selection. His choice

  Liberty had to admit she could grow to like jazz. More so if listening included sitting beside Deacon on this very comfy couch with its plush cushions.

  The room was sparse in the way of bachelor men who weren’t into decorating. It was also functional. The only real personal touch was a framed picture on the fireplace mantel, too far away for her to identify the people.

  “Also, Ernie didn’t retain an attorney after the accident.”

  Deacon had finished his soda in about three swallows, prompting Liberty to wond
er what else he did fast. And what he did slow. Like kissing.

  “And that’s a red flag, too?” she asked.

  “He was trampled and gored by a bull. Surely, someone advised him to seek legal representation. A family member. A friend. Heck, an ambulance chaser.”

  “Maybe Ernie doesn’t trust attorneys.” She sent him a pointed look.

  “Are you insulting me?”

  Because he’d been teasing, she teased him back. “I’m simply stating a fact. My mom hates dentists. Cassidy’s convinced every salesperson is trying to rip her off. We all have people we don’t fully trust.”

  “Who is it you don’t trust?” He leaned closer. Enough that she could see those attractive lines in the corners of his eyes when he smiled.

  “I’ll tell you if you tell me what happened to you after you ran away.”

  He sat up straight. “We’re getting off topic.”

  And like that, the door slammed shut. No matter how much she prodded, he wasn’t going to share that era in his life. Which, naturally, made her all the more determined to find out what exactly had happened.

  “Your family was liable,” he continued. “But instead of suing, Ernie accepted the insurance company’s initial settlement offer and signed a waiver.”

  “I still don’t understand why you think that’s important.”

  “It keeps coming back to an investigation. If he had sued, there would have been one.”

  “But there was,” Liberty insisted.

  “I mean there would have been a more thorough investigation. Both attorneys, his and the insurance company’s, would have hired experts to comb every inch of the arena and interview every person there that day. The electric shocker Joe Blackwood found might have come to light.”

  “And you think Ernie didn’t want that.”

  “He could have conceivably gotten millions.”

  “And instead, he spent his puny settlement in the first few years after the accident and lives in a single-wide trailer.”

  Deacon smiled approvingly. “You’re starting to think like an attorney.”

  Liberty straightened. “Of everything you’ve said, everything you’ve uncovered, this makes me the most curious. He didn’t retain an attorney for a lawsuit he almost certainly would have won. Mom should have asked these questions back when it happened. I’ll tell you why she didn’t,” Liberty continued before Deacon had a chance to interject. “Because she was in a hurry to settle the claim and put the accident behind us. A lawsuit would have dragged on for months. Years, even. She’s admitted she let you take the blame in order to protect the arena.” Liberty sucked in a sharp breath. “Do you think she knows something she’s not telling?”

  “I doubt it. If I were in her shoes, I’d be relieved that Ernie didn’t take me to court and not ask any questions. Why rock the boat?”

  “I bet Joe’s told someone about the shocker.” Liberty considered potential candidates. “Like Tank.”

  “Or not. Joe has nothing at stake. Nothing to lose.”

  Deacon picked up his empty soda can and stood, groaning like an old, arthritic man rising from bed in the morning.

  “Are you okay?” Liberty asked, instantly concerned.

  “I might have pulled a muscle.” He kneaded his right shoulder with his left hand.

  “You probably pulled a lot of muscles. That was quite a spill you took.”

  “I think you’re insulting me again.”

  “Do you have any ointment? I’ll rub some into your shoulder.”

  At her remark, he went perfectly still. Something dark and dangerous flared in his eyes. “That’s not a good idea.”

  “Hmm.” She rather liked the idea of running her hands up and down his shoulder. He did, too, she’d wager, which might be why he’d refused her offer. “What about an ice pack? You need to do something. If not, you’ll wake up tomorrow with ten times the pain you have now.”

  “There’s ibuprofen in the medicine cabinet. Be right back.” He left her sitting on the couch.

  She sighed. Deacon was such a gentleman.

  Maybe she should be less of a lady. Especially if she wanted him to—

  Her glance drifted to the fireplace mantel and the framed photo. Deciding on a closer look, she pushed to her feet. The picture, obviously a candid shot, was of Deacon and another man who was definitely not his father and too young to be a grandfather.

  The setting intrigued her. They sat side by side in metal folding chairs and were engaged in what was clearly an intense conversation. Deacon wore some sort of tan, baggy uniform.

  “His name is Eduardo Frias.” Deacon stood just inside the family room, watching her with an intensity that matched his expression in the photo.

  “The mentor you mentioned?”

  He nodded. “Eduardo was my detention officer.”

  “As in...”

  “Juvenile detention.”

  Deacon had been in trouble. Serious trouble. She took a moment to absorb that.

  “Sit down.” He motioned to the couch.

  “Is this a long story?”

  “Not long as much as difficult to tell.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “I’d like your word it’ll stay between us.”

  “Of course.” She sat, tucking one leg beneath her. She’d been waiting weeks for this moment.

  He dropped down beside her. When, after a few moments, he said nothing, she took his hand and squeezed it. That seemed to do the trick.

  “I told you my leaving Reckless was spur-of-the-moment, and I didn’t exaggerate. I hitched a ride to Phoenix and slept on the streets for about a week before I found my way to a homeless shelter.”

  “Deacon! How awful that must have been.”

  “Trust me when I tell you, it was hardly my low point. As soon as the shelter staff discovered I was underage, they called the police. I ran. Anything was better than being taken home.”

  She couldn’t imagine the suffering he must have endured. Yet he’d chosen a life on the streets over the one at home.

  Liberty liked to believe her mother would have taken Deacon’s side if she’d known what would happen to him.

  “I survived for the next two months. Barely. I did whatever I had to not to draw attention from the police, figuring if I could just hold on until I was eighteen, then I’d be legal. There’s a big difference between a minor runaway and an adult missing person. But it was hot. Hot and dirty. I remember that the most. Going weeks without bathing. I’d sneak into public restrooms when I could and wash up in the sink.”

  “Where did you sleep?”

  “Anywhere dry and shaded.”

  “How did you eat?”

  “When I was really hungry, I stood on street corners with a cardboard sign and begged.”

  Liberty had always assumed most of those people were scammers, not genuinely in need. No more.

  “I learned what churches had soup lines,” Deacon went on. “Which convenience or liquor stores would trade food and water for a couple hours of sweeping floors and washing windows. I dived in Dumpsters.”

  “Oh, jeez, Deacon.” Her hands flew to her cheeks. Tears pricked her eyes. “You didn’t.”

  “I also stole. Small stuff. Food mostly. A radio. Batteries. Whatever fit in my pockets. Grocery stores were easier than convenience stores. Clerks there don’t watch the customers as closely. Eventually, I was caught and became a bona fide member of the criminal system.”

  Liberty’s chest hurt. It was, she realized, her heart breaking.

  “Is that how you met Eduardo?”

  “I was remanded to a juvenile detention facility in Mesa where I proceeded to make myself unpopular. Eduardo—Officer Frias—he took me under his wing. God only knows why. I gave him nothi
ng but grief my first week there. It’s because of him I was tested and my reading disability diagnosed. As the saying goes, it’s never too late to learn. Reading opened up a whole new world for me. With Eduardo’s help, I obtained my GED and enrolled in college. My grades were so poor I had to attend community college first. From there, I went to ASU.”

  “Did he encourage you to go into law?”

  “Among other things.”

  “What else?”

  “Return to Reckless. He’s actually been to my office. It wasn’t my office then. I was looking at spaces to rent, and he came along.”

  Liberty squeezed Deacon’s hand harder. “He must be proud of you.”

  “That’s what he says.”

  She couldn’t be sure, but she thought Deacon’s voice roughened just the tiniest bit, as if his emotions overwhelmed him. She was moved, by both his story and his obvious love for a man who was more of a father to him than his own.

  Spurred by her own overwhelming emotions, she maneuvered closer to him. “If he comes to town again, I’d like to meet him.”

  “He’d like that, too. I’ve told him about you.”

  “Really?” A rush of pleasure warmed her. “What did you say?”

  “Most recently, I told him I was sorry your father was my client. Otherwise, I’d ask you out.”

  More space between them vanished. Liberty’s doing.

  “My parents are getting back together. Mercer won’t need you much longer.”

  “For which I’m very glad.”

  Liberty didn’t wait for him to kiss her. She swung her leg over his middle and crawled onto his lap. Her hands came to rest on his shoulders with a soft sound of contentment.

  “I could ask what you’re doing.” His gaze raked her face with a desire she hadn’t ever seen radiating from a man’s eyes.

  It made her feel...bold. “Except you already know.”

  Dipping her head, she nuzzled his neck on the opposite side of his scrape. When her tongue darted out to taste his skin, he inhaled sharply. Liking the results of her efforts, she tried again in a different spot, right below his earlobe.