Cowboy Sing Me Home

by Harris, Kim Hunt

  “Pez,” Cade said firmly.

  “Pez? Like the candy? Your dad said you already ate.”

  “Pez,” Cade insisted.

  Luke made a growling noise low in his throat. “Pez, huh?” He wrinkled his lip. “Okay, what the he—what the hey. Load you up on sugar, you’ll be wired for sound, and this will be the last time we ask Uncle Luke to babysit.” He stood and shifted Cade on his hip. “Okay, Cade my man, we’re off in search of Pez.”

  Thirty minutes later Luke and Cade sat in the second booth of the Circle D convenience store, surrounded by candy wrappers. “Okay.” Luke took a deep breath and unclenched his hands. “You didn’t want the Pez. And you didn’t want the Junior Mints. And you didn’t even want the M&M’s. What kind of kid doesn’t like M&M’s?”

  Cade’s fat lower lip trembled. “Pez,” he said on a wail.

  “This is Pez, you little… darling. This is Pez.” He lifted the plastic toy. “See, Pez. You just lift Yogi Bear’s head, and out pops a Pez, right out of his neck. See?” He popped a candy out and held it out to Cade.

  Cade batted it away and broke into real tears. “Pez!”

  Luke groaned and ran his hands through his hair. “I knew this was going to be a nightmare. I knew it!”

  He heard a chuckle above him and looked up to see Dusty standing by the booth, from her expression delighted to witness this degrading scene.

  “Rookie,” she said.

  “No kidding. What was your first clue?”

  Gingerly she picked a Jolly Rancher wrapper out of his hair and laid it delicately on the table before him.

  Luke growled and fiddled with his hair. “Go ahead, laugh. I would, if it were anyone else but me.”

  “Who was nuts enough to leave their child in your care?”

  “Haskell.” He raised his voice to be heard over Cade’s cries.

  “He must have been desperate.”

  Cade reached out chubby hands to Dusty.

  “Sorry pal, you’re covered in chocolate from head to toe.”

  Cade’s cry intensified. Fat teardrops trembled on his lids, then coursed down his round cheeks.

  Luke moved over to that side of the booth and picked him up. “Cade, I’m sorry, guy. I wish I knew what to do for you.”

  Cade kept crying and rubbed chocolate-covered fists against his eyes. Then with one quick move, he lunged at Dusty.

  “Oooh!” Dusty caught him, barely. “Well…. umm, hello.” She looked down at the smear of chocolate that now ran down her arm.

  Cade sniffled and looked tremulously up at Dusty.

  Dusty frowned.

  Cade hiccuped and opened his mouth for another wail.

  “Oh, all right. Don’t start again. It’s okay.” She bounced him lightly and looked at Luke. “Sorry, I’m just really no good with kids. Hey.” She smiled at Cade. “It’s okay, sweetie. It’s okay.”

  “You’re doing pretty good with him for someone who’s no good with kids,” Luke said, but Dusty wasn’t listening. She was focused now on Cade.

  “Who was mean to you, huh, little guy?”

  His lower lip still trembling, Cade pointed at Luke. “Unca Yook.”

  “Unca Yook?”

  Luke was glad Cade had gotten his genders straight and quit calling him ‘Auntie Yook.’ “He keeps saying he wants Pez. So I bought him some Pez, but he wouldn’t eat it.”

  “You’re in completely over your head, aren’t you?”

  “Definitely.” He seized on the notion of an opportunity. “I need help. I don’t suppose you’d be free to stay with us for an hour or so, would you?”

  Dusty shook her head. “Sorry. Have to get back to the bar and get ready for rehearsal tonight.”

  “Come on, I’m desperate here. I just have to watch him for…” He looked at his watch. “Good Lord, it’s only been thirty minutes? I just have to watch him for another hour or so, then he goes to the babysitter. Just an hour. Please.” He gave her the look that, according to rumor, was touching enough to bring even the strongest woman to her knees. “For the kid.”

  Dusty sighed. “You are one pathetic wretch, you know that?”

  “I am well aware of that, yes.”

  “All right, one hour. But I’m not sitting in this booth for an hour while you try to shove sugar down his throat. Let’s get him out in the air.”

  They ended up at the park, where there was a set of swings designed for toddlers, with wraparound seats. Dusty lowered Cade into the seat and pushed him gently.

  Luke didn’t bother hiding his relief at having her with him. He loved Cade, really he did. But being alone with a helpless kid, someone depending on you for their every need… the idea gave him the heebies jeebies.

  “What songs are we working on tonight?”

  “A little of this, a little of that. Some old George Strait, the new Faith Hill single. A couple of originals.”

  She fascinated him. He leaned against the rail of the swing set, watching her long-limbed grace, the way her whole body leaned into the push as she entertained Cade on the swing, the way her hair blew back slightly in the breeze. Her face, relaxed and composed as she watched Cade, then creasing into a smile, leaning in close when he swung toward her.

  “Cowboy, I think your kid here is getting sleepy.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “Besides not being blind, you mean? See the way his eyes are drooping, and he keeps rubbing them? And his voice is getting hoarse? It’s naptime.” She stopped the swing and lifted him out. Then she wrinkled her nose. “And it’s diaper time, too.”

  “Now that’s one thing I can handle, believe it or not. The diaper bag’s in the pickup. I’ll be right back.”

  When he returned, she was holding Cade, looking into his round brown eyes and singing softly to him. His eyes did droop, Luke noticed, and he looked content. But then, Luke figured he’d be pretty damn content if she sang and looked at him like that.

  He dropped the bag on the table and turned back to them. “You lied.”

  She looked up in surprise, her face still glowing from the grin she’d given Cade. “What are you talking about?”

  “You said you were no good with kids. You lied. You’re great with kids.”

  She just rolled her eyes. “Anyone would look like a pro, after you.”

  “I’m serious. You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”

  She froze. She blinked once, a blank stare on her face. Then she handed Cade to him. “No,” she said definitely. “I have not.”

  It was Luke’s turn to blink. “Okay…”

  She backed away, shoving her hands in her pockets. “I don’t do diapers. And I have to run. So I’ll catch you later.”

  “Wait.” But she was already leaving, those long legs taking her away so quickly all he could do was stand there and feel like an idiot. “Don’t you want a ride back to your pickup?”

  She gave a short wave. “It’s two blocks. I can handle it.”

  Luke watched her walk away, then turned to Cade. “I don’t think it was anything I said. Did you say something to offend her?”

  Cade was watching her, too. His lower lip started to tremble. Then he began to wail again.

  Luke sighed and pulled the changing pad out of the bag, laying it out on the picnic table. “Here we go again.”

  Cade continued to cry while Luke took care of the stinky diaper. His lower lip thrust out, he wailed, “Pe-eh-eh-ez.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to have a short attention span?” Luke checked his watch. “Okay, Mrs. Perez had better be home by now.”

  Cade cried at ear-splitting decibel levels all the way to Mrs. Perez’s house, then dropped off to sleep as Luke pulled into the driveway. “Figures,” Luke muttered.

  Luke had never been so glad to see anyone as he was to see Mrs. Perez when she opened the door. He had to admit, though, a sleeping Cade on his shoulder felt pretty darn sweet.

  “Hi,” Mrs. Perez whispered. She held out her hands and Luke handed the wa
rm bundle of boy over to her.

  Cade’s eyes fluttered open, and he smiled sleepily when he saw Mrs. Perez. “Pez,” he said with a satisfied whisper, and fell back asleep.

  Wednesday evening, Dusty drove past the courthouse for the third time, tapping her hand against the wheel and watching with growing anxiety as cars and pickups pulled up, one after the other, into the parking lot. Women emerged from their automobiles with casserole dishes and cake pans, calling after children who ran toward the park across the street and paid their mothers no heed, and men congregated beside open tailgates to talk and joke and insult each other.

  Why had she told Sheriff Haskell she would come to this stupid barbecue? And why, since she didn’t really want to be here, did she continue to drive around and around instead of going back to Tumbleweeds to go over the songs for tonight’s rehearsal? That would be the sensible thing to do.

  She pulled into the grass beside the park. The courthouse square was like something straight from a Normal Rockwell painting. A little white gazebo was strung with red, white and blue bunting. Beside it a large barbecue pit smoked heartily away, and from her open window Dusty could smell the heavenly scent of sauce and meat and spices coming together in perfection. There were couples of all sizes and ages ranging across the lawn, even a few red-checked tablecloths draped across the brown grass. The grass would be green, of course, except for the drought and water rationing. Even the hot, dry condition didn’t mar the atmosphere, though. There were a few dogs, she saw, and enough kids to keep a McDonald’s going for a couple of years. If Hollywood had cast a scene for a founder’s day picnic in small-town America, this was exactly what it would look like. She couldn’t believe how corny it all was.

  It sure did look nice, she thought wistfully.

  Her stomach growled over the sound of the radio, and she killed the motor. It was her hunger that decided her, she told herself. It had nothing at all to do with the atmosphere on the courthouse square and the small but growing ache inside her that whispered something was missing from her life. She was here because of hunger, plain and simple, the promise of homemade potato salad, barbecue ribs and apple cobbler.

  She scowled as she picked her way through the maze of picnic blankets, searching for a familiar face. This was the reason she never mingled with the locals. She didn’t need to be reminded that she was the odd man out wherever she went.

  She looked to her left to see an arm waving, and she followed the arm to the body and grinning face of Luke Tanner. He stood among a small knot of people, and when he turned and said something to Toby Haskell, who stood beside him, Toby looked over at her and smiled, too.

  She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help but feel flattered by their obvious welcome. She nodded a greeting as she walked up.

  “We were taking bets about whether or not you’d actually show,” Luke said. “I’m glad I lost the bet.”

  “I knew you’d be here,” Toby said smugly.

  “I said I’d be here, didn’t I?” Dusty said, keeping her mouth shut about how close she came to not coming. “I was promised potato salad.”

  “You’ve come to the right place. My wife makes the best in the county.” He slipped an arm around a woman of Dusty’s own height and beamed at her. A surprising and unpleasant thread of envy curled in Dusty’s stomach.

  “Hi, I’m Corinne, the wife he’s referring to. And don’t believe everything he says about my cooking. He’s easily impressed.”

  After a moment, Dusty realized Corinne had her hand out. With a start, Dusty grabbed it, shook it quickly, then stuffed her own hands back in her pockets, remembering to mumble “nice to meet you” at the last minute. She should have known that in this perfect little town, the sheriff would have a perfect little wife, too. Dusty resisted the urge to brush at her clothes and silently asked herself again what she was doing here.

  If Corinne noticed her lack of manners, she didn’t comment. “We’re all glad you could make it. Luke told me you helped him watch Cade yesterday morning. Thanks a lot.”

  “No problem. Cute kid.” Dusty studied the stuff on the table so she wouldn’t have to look at the starched and pressed perfection of Corinne Haskell who, even in khaki shorts and a denim button-down shirt, managed to look elegant, with rings that glittered on her fingers and earrings that winked at her ears.

  “I didn’t bring anything,” Dusty said as soon as she realized she probably should have brought something.

  “The guest of honor is the guest. You’re not supposed to bring anything.”

  Dusty looked up to see a new girl, just as perfect as Corinne Haskell but even worse, because this one was petite and dainty and made Dusty feel like a grubby Amazon woman straight from the jungle. She held a squirming Cade in her arms.

  “I’m Becca. This is my husband, Colt.”

  Colt stepped behind his wife and put his hands on her waist, kissing the top of her head in an easy manner that said he’d done it hundreds of times. “I’ve seen you play a couple of times,” he said to Dusty. “You’re really good.”

  “Thanks,” Dusty murmured. Did all the men of Aloma treat their wives with such adoration? It was kind of weird, she told herself. Must be stifling to be on the receiving end of that kind of idolization.

  Becca turned to hand the boy over to Corinne, but he arched in her arms with a fretful cry and turned, launching himself at Dusty.

  “Oh!” she said, catching him in surprise. Suddenly her arms were full of solid, warm boy, smelling of sweat and dirt and something sweet – probably whatever the sticky stuff was all over his hands.

  “Sorry about that,” Corinne said dryly as she took the boy in her arms. “He has a tendency to throw himself at pretty women. Like his daddy used to.”

  “Don’t sweat it,” Dusty said, but still felt a little off-kilter from the contact. She backed away and dusted her hands together. She looked around the small group, feeling like the oddest odd man out. She scowled. “Well, are we going to eat?”

  Luke took her by the hand and led her toward the smoking barbecue grill. “I’m starved. Wait till you taste Stevie’s ribs. He has this recipe he swears he bought off a Cajun in a back alley in New Orleans.”

  The moment Dusty realized how grateful she was for the contact of Luke’s hand over her own, she pulled back and stuck her hands back in her pockets. She was still considering a physical relationship with him, but it would be on her terms. And her terms didn’t include latching onto him like a life preserver because she felt out of place. She wasn’t about to make that mistake again.

  Instead of making a remark about her coolness, he simply smiled and handed her a plate when they got to the serving line. He exchanged greetings with everyone else in line, introducing Dusty to so many people she gave up any attempt to remember all the names. When they reached the front of the line he instructed Stevie to give them both extra portions. Stevie, who stared slack-jawed at Dusty every time he saw her, loaded her up with enough ribs to feed their entire table.

  As they sat back down at their table, Luke handed Dusty a paper napkin and plopped a big spoonful of potato salad onto her plate. “I shudder to think what’s going to happen to Stevie if you ever smile at him.”

  “Since he goes catatonic every time I look at him, I don’t think I’ll push the issue.”

  “That’d probably be for the best. Hey Podner,” Luke said as Corinne plopped a wiener-wielding Cade down beside them. “Got some barbecue?”

  “I decided his tummy wasn’t up for Stevie’s sauce. Luke, I think the poetry club is ready for you to introduce them.”

  “Ah, time for my big moment.” Luke stood and wiped his mouth. “I’ll be right back.”

  Cade gave a cry of protest and threw himself at Luke. Luke managed to catch him before he fell. “Where you going?”

  “You said you were leaving, so he has to give you bye-bye sugar,” Corinne explained.

  Cade leaned over and put his open mouth up to Luke’s, making an “mmmmmah” sound as h
e did so.

  “Sorry, I forgot. ” Luke said. “That’s good bye-bye sugar.” He kissed the boy again, then blew loudly on his neck. Cade laughed hysterically as Luke handed him back to Corinne.

  Luke worked his way back through the crowd, then bounded onto the stage and tapped the microphone. It screeched feedback and the crowd groaned in protest.

  Luke ducked and whirled, his hands flying to an imaginary holster to pull out invisible pistols, and his head whipped left and right in a pantomime search for perpetrators.

  The crowd laughed, and at the table Toby Haskell said, “What a ham.”

  “Look who’s talking,” his wife replied. “How is it he’s making this speech instead of you, anyway?”

  “I lost the arm wrestle.”

  Dusty couldn’t help but smile with the rest of them. He was comfortable in front of a crowd; she’d noticed that even in front of the small groups who came to their rehearsals at Tumbleweeds. But from what she had seen, he seemed like a basically comfortable guy no matter where he was. As she watched him turn and joke with a man on the gazebo stage, she decided that self-confidence was pretty darn sexy.

  Now that he had the crowd’s attention, he turned back to the mike and said, “It’s great to see such a good turnout on the eve of the first ever Aloma County Rain Fest. When I told Sheriff Haskell about my idea of having this Rain Fest, I said I knew we could count on the good people of Aloma County to get behind it a hundred percent.”

  The man behind him said something, and Luke turned. He nodded and turned back to the microphone. “Yeah, I know the Sheriff has been telling everyone Rain Fest was his idea. That’s okay. I don’t mind letting him get the credit for my ideas, it happens all the time. That’s why he’s the Sheriff and I’m just a deputy. I let him take the credit for all my hard work and ingenuity. It’s only fair, when you think about how much better looking I am than he is. Makes things more even.”

  Dusty cast a glance toward Toby, who was grinning from ear to ear. The crowd laughed again. He had them eating out of his hand, Dusty thought. She leaned her elbows on the table and watched. She enjoyed watching an entertainer, enjoyed studying the nuances of a person when they were in that moment of connection with a crowd. Even in this simple instance, he worked the crowd like a professional.