Cowboy Blues

by Jamie Craig

  Relief flooded through her at the sight of him. “You can get the napkins from the cupboard and put them on the table. I'll bring the garlic bread in. Everything else is ready."

  He grinned and nodded, leaving her alone with Gil once again. Rebecca took the bread out from under the broiler and set it on the cutting board, ready to slice up.

  "Did you make dessert, too?” Gil asked. “I've been craving some of your chocolate cake ever since we rescheduled."

  "No cake.” At his scowl, she pointed with the knife at a covered pie dish cooling nearby. “I made a blueberry pie instead. It's better for you."

  Gil harrumphed. “Like lasagna? I'll bet that's his favorite."

  "No, it's mine, and if you don't play nice, I won't even let you have pie."

  With a shake of his head, he ambled back into the dining room, leaving Rebecca alone to pile the bread onto a plate and follow him.

  Her dining table was a large, heavy piece of furniture, and she half-expected Spencer to be sitting at the head. But he had chosen to sit to the right, and he stood as they entered the room. When Gil approached, Spencer smiled sheepishly and held out his left hand.

  "Excuse my grip,” Spencer said, as Gil politely shook his hand.

  "I think that's doable, considering the circumstances."

  They both waited to sit until Rebecca slid onto her chair. Gil picked up the spatula to start serving the lasagna before she had the opportunity, leaving her to take a piece of garlic bread and passing it to Spencer.

  "How was your walk?” she asked him. Safe topic. It would show her dad Spencer wasn't just sitting around on the couch all day, too.

  "Short. I didn't want to miss dinner. I think I need to take Jake out for a good run. He's not used to being cooped up like this for so long."

  Gil took Spencer's plate without asking and put a large serving of lasagna on it. “What do you do with him when you're on the road?"

  "What do I do with him? He rides in the truck with me."

  "Jake gets plenty of time to run around, Dad.” Rebecca held her plate out for her portion. “It's not like Spencer never gets outside."

  "Oh, I know. I just didn't know how he was with all the horses and animals. He's just bite-size. It'd be a shame for him to get underfoot."

  "He almost did. He was limping around the fairgrounds in Grand Junction, and startled the wrong horse. I grabbed him before he got his head smashed in. He learned his lesson about horses, though."

  "Smart dog.” Gil took a big bite of the lasagna. “Not all of ‘em do.” When he swallowed, he nodded at Rebecca. “You need to let me take some of this home. Nobody does it like you do."

  She smiled at the compliment, relaxing slightly. “I made enough to feed an army, so there should be plenty of leftovers."

  "What about you?” Gil had turned back to Spencer. “You probably don't eat like this on the road."

  "No, nothing like this.” He cut into the noodles with his fork, handling it like he had always eaten with his left hand. “I tend to stick to the basic food groups. Hamburgers, jerky, cereal, and corn nuts. Becca's spoiled me now."

  "Yeah, Becky's good at that."

  "Dad,” Rebecca warned in a low voice.

  "What? It's true.” He looked at Spencer. “Tell me it's not true."

  "She's certainly been a better nurse than I deserve."

  "Stop it,” Rebecca said good-naturedly. “You know I don't see it like that."

  "You don't look like you need much nursing, though.” Gil gestured toward Spencer's shoulder with his fork. “Except for that."

  "Only because of Becca's skills. She got me through the concussion and the bruises."

  "How long before the sling comes off?"

  "A long time. I still have a few surgeries ahead of me."

  Gil glanced between them, his frown slowly deepening. “Just how long are you expecting Becky to take care of you then?"

  The doorbell stopped Rebecca from cutting her dad off, and she tossed her napkin onto the table as she rose to answer it. “Don't answer that, Spence. I'll be right back."

  Rebecca knew she shouldn't be surprised to see Travis standing on her front porch. He was the only one who came around every night. He barely spared a glance to her before looking over her shoulder for Spencer.

  "Tell Spence to get out here. We've got some work to do."

  She gripped the edge of the door more tightly, trying not to let his brusque manner keep her from being polite. “We're actually in the middle of supper at the moment. Can you come back later? Or...” She braced herself. “You're welcome to join us, if you'd like. There's plenty of food."

  Travis spit over the side of the porch before nodding. “Sure, I could eat."

  Holding the door open wider, Rebecca let him sweep past. “Let me just go get another plate,” she said when he sat down next to Spencer. By the time she got back, Travis was already munching on a piece of garlic bread, crumbs falling onto the table in front of him.

  Spencer offered her a small, reassuring smile. It worked, but only because he was there to smile. He could have run away as soon as she turned her back.

  "I still haven't decided what I'm going to do with this shoulder, Mr. Rankin. Or when I'm going to have the surgeries. So I can't answer your question right now."

  "I'll help Spence for as long as he wants my help, Dad.” Concentrating on filling Travis's dish made it possible to sound calm about the whole matter. “He knows he's welcome to stay."

  "He's not going to stay,” Travis said, without looking up.

  "Travis..."

  "What? You haven't told her?"

  "I haven't decided,” Spencer said softly.

  "Dad, he already said he can't answer that question. Let it go."

  "Why am I the bad guy here? His uncle is the one who brought it up."

  Rebecca's jaw tightened. “What Spencer decides to do is none of your business. It's between him and his doctors.” To Travis, she added, “Maybe you should let Spencer make up his own mind about what he wants to do. If he says he hasn't decided, he hasn't decided."

  Travis rolled his eyes. “Right. I'm sure you haven't tried to sway him at all."

  "I haven't,” she shot back. “Though I don't think you can say the same, can you?"

  "I've never done anything except tell the boy the truth. He was born to ride bulls. If he's undecided now, it's because you got your claws in him."

  "Hey!” Spencer looked up sharply. “If I'm undecided now, it's because I don't have a death wish."

  "You've always had a death wish, son. That's why you started riding to begin with."

  "There's a difference now,” Rebecca argued. “The risk is a lot greater than before."

  "Everybody's gonna die sooner or later. Might as well go doing something you love, and not tied to some woman's apron strings."

  "Excuse me, Mr. Cole.” The tips of Gil's ears were red. Never a good sign. “My daughter took your nephew in when he had nowhere else to go. All she's done is take care of him. She deserves respect."

  "She's turned him into a scared little boy. He was never scared before. Now, Spence, I'm not saying she's not worth a few rolls. But no set of tits is worth giving up what you were born to..."

  Gil's face turned an even brighter red, and Rebecca opened her mouth, but it was Spencer's hand coming down on the table that cut off Travis's speech.

  "Get out."

  Rebecca stared at the two men. She hadn't seen Spence this angry since he'd first come home from the hospital. Travis's words didn't really surprise her; the words were blunt, but they echoed the sentiment he'd been conveying ever since he'd arrived in Oakley. But seeing Spence stand up for her made her want to throw her arms around him and smother him in kisses.

  "You heard him,” Gil said. Slowly, he pushed back in his chair and rose to his feet. “And if you don't care to leave on your own, I've got no problem helping you out the door."

  "No need to show me to the door,” Travis said, pushing his near
ly full plate back and standing up. “We can find it. Come on, son."

  Spencer stood, as well. His eyes caught hers for a moment, but he didn't say anything as he followed his uncle out of the house.

  Spencer kept his left hand in his pocket to disguise the fact that he was shaking. He hoped Travis would just go quietly, because Spencer knew he would throw a punch, regardless of the sling or the risk of fucking up his head again.

  "What the hell was that?” Spencer demanded, once the door slammed behind them.

  "What?” Travis didn't stop walking, though he glanced back at Spence over his shoulder. “You're better off without her. Don't worry about your stuff. We'll swing by tomorrow and pick it up before we leave."

  "I'm not leaving tonight."

  Travis stopped short. “She cannot be that good of a lay, you need to stick around one more night."

  "That's not why I'm staying. And I am staying. I won't be heading out with you tomorrow."

  "Don't be stupid, Spence. You need to train."

  "I can train here. If I need to."

  Travis's eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, if?"

  Before Spencer had a chance to answer, the front door opened and Becca stepped out. Her color was still high from the insults Travis had slung around inside, but she seemed calm, even if Spence knew she probably wanted to kick his uncle's ass.

  "Do you need anything?” she asked, directing the question to Spence.

  Both Travis and Becca looked at him expectantly, waiting for his answers. He wished he had something satisfying and concrete to say. Travis was his only family. His only connection to a father he never knew and a mother who couldn't hold on. His connection to the rodeo and every dream he ever had. He didn't want to cut Travis out of his life, but if he didn't leave with the older man now, Spencer might never see him again.

  "The doctor made it clear I need more surgeries. I need to look into that before I even think about training full-time."

  Not a muscle flinched in Travis's features. “Those surgeries aren't going to touch your left hand. You waste time now, you're only that much more behind."

  "I'm not so sure getting back on a bull is the most important thing anymore,” Spencer admitted.

  "Because of her?” Travis snorted. “I never saw you as a quitter, Spence. Especially over a piece of ass."

  "Hey!” Becca barreled past him to get in Travis's face. “I can take you calling me names because, well, you don't know me from Adam. But you of all people should know the last thing Spence is, is a quitter. Do you know how hard he's been fighting to get as far as he has? No, because you weren't even around when he got hurt. And don't try and tell me you didn't know. He's one of the best on the circuit. Every cowboy from here to Butte knew about Spencer Cole's accident."

  Spencer didn't think Travis would take a swing at a woman, but he might not be above shoving Rebecca away from him. Travis wasn't known for his self-control. Spence took her shoulder and gently pulled her away from his uncle.

  "This isn't about Rebecca. This is about a decision that's mine to make. Not yours. Not hers. Not the doctor's. Mine."

  "And you're choosing to quit? This is all you've ever been good at. You quit, and what're you going to do?"

  "I don't know. I don't have any idea. But I'm not a kid, and I'm not going to let you bully me back to the arena.” Spencer took Rebecca's elbow and stepped back. “You should head out."

  Travis looked between the two of them before snorting and shaking his head. “Never thought I'd see the day,” he said, turning on his heel and heading for his truck. He didn't even bother with a good-bye as he pulled away.

  "Sorry about your dinner,” Spencer said, watching Travis's taillights disappear.

  "It's not your fault.” Her wide eyes searched his. “You know he's wrong, don't you? I know you're not a quitter."

  "I think since I'm quitting, he's technically correct."

  "You're...what? Are you sure?"

  "I'm quitting for now. I can keep working on making my left arm stronger, but there's no way I'll be able to keep my right arm up and keep my balance until I have full mobility in this shoulder."

  Her mouth softened, and she stepped closer, leaning in to brush her mouth over his. “Thank you for sticking up for me in there. I know you don't think of me like that."

  Spencer pushed her hair behind her ear, his thumb brushing across her cheek. “He was right about one thing. I don't want to leave you behind."

  "Well, I was ready to leave with you last summer if I could. That hasn't changed. You go, and I'll go. As long as you want me."

  "Even if I wanted to ride again?"

  She didn't blink. “If you get to the point where you honestly think you can again, I'll be there.” She grinned. “Somebody's got to get your comeback pictures, and if you dare let that be anybody but me, you'll be in serious trouble."

  Spencer tilted his head and caught her bottom lip. “Let's try to get rid of your dad. I need you to myself."

  Looping her arms around his neck, she opened up to his kiss, teasing his tongue with soft, ticklish glances. “I'll give him the whole pie. That should do the trick."

  "Being with you is definitely worth the loss of a pie,” Spencer murmured, before claiming her mouth again. He was still more than a little lost, but at least he wasn't alone.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  CHAPTER 17

  The ringing telephone startled Spencer out of his nap, and he glanced over to the wall, waiting for Becca to answer it. By the fourth ring, Spencer remembered she couldn't answer the phone because she wasn't home. By the sixth ring, he remembered she was in the habit of calling him before she left the office to go to the grocery store, though he had assured her repeatedly she didn't need to buy anything special for him.

  He rolled off the couch and hurried across the room, snagging the receiver just before the machine picked up.

  "Becca?"

  There was a pause, and then someone cleared their throat. “I'm sorry,” a woman said. A woman not Becca. “Could I speak to Rebecca Rankin, please?"

  "Oh. Sorry. She's not here right now. But I can take a message."

  "Yes, please. My name is Shelli Ferris. F-E-R-R-I-S. Like the wheel. I spoke with Ms. Rankin a couple days ago about a job opportunity, and I know she turned me down, but I hoped I could sweeten the pot for her a little bit.” She chuckled. “Ever since the author saw those photos she took of the wildfires, he's been adamant he has to have her."

  "Ferris. Got it. And which job offer was that?"

  "The one for the national parks? Since it's almost September already, you can bet we're getting just a little anxious to get started. Those fall colors don't stick around for long, you know."

  "Oh, that job. Right. So there's a rush on this one? What can I tell her your offer is?"

  "Well, the money's going to have to stay the same, unfortunately.” There was a rustle of papers. “But, we know how much the travel would set her back, especially with the price of gas these days. So on top of the flat rate for the work, we're prepared to cover all of her traveling expenses, based on the four weeks we already estimated it would take to gather all the necessary photographs."

  "Travel expenses for four weeks? That does sweeten the pot considerably.” Spencer held the phone between his ear and shoulder and adjusted his sling. “That sounds quite fair, Ms. Ferris. You've got a deal."

  "Oh! Can you...I mean, how can be you sure she's going to take it? Not that I'm arguing, mind you, but the last time I spoke to her, it took everything I had just to get her to agree to listen to what we were ready to offer."

  Spencer felt a twinge of disappointment that Rebecca hadn't thought to mention the offer to him. But he wasn't surprised—she wouldn't want to make him feel guilty for recovering in her home. “I am absolutely certain she's going to take the job. The past six weeks have been a bit hectic around here, but now everything has settled down, Rebecca will be eager to take the gig."

  "Thank God. Y
ou have no idea how relieved everybody here is going to be when I tell them. I'll overnight the contract so she can sign it, Mr. Rankin. Tell her it should be there some time tomorrow."

  Spencer didn't bother correcting her assumption. He didn't want to risk her changing her mind about the contract. “Fantastic. It was a pleasure to talk to you, Ms. Ferris."

  She returned the sentiment and hung up, leaving Spencer to look at the phone. Becca probably wouldn't be home until later in the afternoon, which would give him plenty of time to figure out exactly how he should tell her he took the decision in his own hands. He suspected she wouldn't be thrilled, but he could not give her the chance to turn the job down. Not for him. Not for her father. It was time Rebecca did what was right for Rebecca.

  It was time he focused on somebody besides himself.

  Spencer found a plastic bucket under her sink and filled it full of hot, soapy water. Further investigation revealed a spray bottle with a mix of vinegar and water, a stiff scrubbing brush, a broom, and a multitude of rags. He put his supplies and a cold Coke in a bag, looped it over his good shoulder, and juggled the broom and bucket out to his trailer.

  He couldn't remember the last time he had given the trailer a good scrubbing. It was fine for his limited needs, but it was not at all suitable for Rebecca. How could he offer her his hovel after spending nearly two months in her clean, sweet-smelling, pleasant little house? Just because the camp trailer was old, didn't mean it needed to reek of the rodeo, fast food, and just plain dirt. Plus, he had Jake's hair all over the place.

  He was scrubbing out the shower stall when he heard her truck rumble to a halt outside. A car door slammed, followed soon by the house. It took several minutes for it to open again, but he didn't break from his cleaning, even when he heard the trailer door creak open.

  "Spence? What're you doing?"

  "Cleaning. Trying to make it smell like less of a barn."

  She appeared outside the shower, her cheeks flushed from the late August heat. A slight sheen of perspiration glued the collar of her T-shirt to her neck, but her eyes were bright and curious, her smile quizzical.

  "What can I do to help?” Her eyes flickered to the shower nozzle. “Though it's tempting to turn the water on and drench you. Soaking wet's one of your best looks."