Slade and Kally: Letting Go of the Reins, Book 1

by AE Rought

  “Oh my…”

  “Yup…oh my.” She tugged me forward. “Let’s get this over with so we can crucify Steve in a snow bank on the way home.”

  Picturing Steve white washed and spread eagle beside the road was a pleasant image. Only going back to the ranch could sound better at this moment. “Deal.”

  We wound our way to the table. Both the men fell silent and slid over to allow us to fit in. Scott’s voice was mild, bordering on meek when he extended his hand. “Hi, Kally. It’s nice to meet you. Steve’s told me so much about you.”

  “Oh really?” I shook his hand. “Hopefully some of it was good.”

  “All of it.” His gaze wandered my face and upper body. “He said you were intelligent and high-spirited. However, he left out how attractive you are.” Smiling, he passed me a menu.

  Nice try, smart guy. “Well, he’s biased. He has Ilene to look at all the time.”

  We all laughed. Though there was no energy, no chemical attraction and no interest. Scott did wear some damn nice cologne. It was a fussy, complicated scent, nothing like Slade’s musky Stetson. When the waitress came, three burgers platters and one Asian salad were ordered. Steve poked every bit of fun at his salad-eating friend he possibly could. “Oh, ha ha,” Scott snickered, but took the ribbing good-naturedly.

  The meal proved to be a perfect distraction from talking. It did not, however, keep my mind from straying back to Butch’s Roadhouse and the dance with Slade. I was so wrapped in memories, I didn’t notice the arm Scott slid across the back of the bench seat. I could not, however, miss the busty blonde with the Catty Bitch shade of green eye shadow who walked slowly to our table and stopped even with our bench. Adelle Crawford’s shiny lips parted in a leering grin. “Well, Kally Jensen, look at you! I heard you left Hulett. I never thought you’d end up here underneath the arm of another man days later.”

  I fought to stand, to throttle the mocking tone out of her voice, but Scott’s arm shot from the bench and his hand clamped vice-like on my shoulder. I turned on him, pinning him with a scathing glare and growled. “Get your hand off of me.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t like violence.”

  Smacking his arm away, I stood and faced the last person I expected to see here in Gillette. “What does my location matter to you, Adelle? And what the hell are you doing here?”

  “Sweet little out-of-towner Kally. Her grin was feral and mocking. “Didn’t Slade tell you my daddy owns this bar and a bunch more like it?”

  Scott’s hand materialized around my wrist when I stepped forward and tugged me back. “If I had any clue who owned this bar,” I wrenched my hand from Scott’s grasp, “or who I’d be dining with, I would never have come here.”

  “Kally, please sit down,” Scott pleaded.

  I slung a silencing glare in his direction. When I turned to face forward, Ilene was standing too. “Just ignore her. She’s just doing this to tick you off.”

  “Oh no. Adelle leaned closer to the table, her manicured claws on the shiny surface. “If I wanted to piss her off, I’d tell her I was driving back to Hulett tonight, and breaking up with Tom now that Slade is free.”

  The taunt shoved me beyond words and into action. Lunging forward, I grabbed handfuls of brittle blonde hair and yanked her face inches from mine. “You touch him and I will finish what I started at Butch’s.” Pulling harder, I butted heads with the arrogant woman. “I made you bleed once, don’t think I won’t again.”

  She hung close enough for me to lean back and slap her, but I didn’t. I turned my back and grabbed my purse from its place by Scott’s leg instead. My jacket arm was bunched in a knot. I forced my fist through in time to miss the back of Adelle’s head. “Beat it, bitch…”

  She swung curses in my direction even as she retreated toward the center of the bar, but I ignored her. Watching me, Ilene signaled she was ready to do what I needed. The men huddled down in the corners of the booth and hardly looked toward either of us. I stood clutching my purse, fuming and feeling useless. Ilene hit Steve’s shoulder. “Give me the keys. I’m driving Kally home. You can come or maybe get a ride with Switzerland over there.”

  Scott raised his hands in a helpless gesture, and Steve nodded. “S’okay, Ilene. I should explain the history between those two to Scott.”

  “I’ll get him home later.” Scott spoke to Ilene. He refused to look at me.

  “Thank you, Scott.”

  “No problem.”

  I turned to look at him, even though he didn’t acknowledge it. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry.”

  “Thanks,” he mumbled.

  I expected to see Adelle in the parking lot or be blindsided by her. Nothing but moonlight and shadows moved among the parked cars. Everything was quiet and so was Ilene for the greater portion of the ride home. Finally, rounding the corner four houses from her driveway, she spoke. “I don’t blame you, hun. I would have done the same thing in your position. Only I would have become an honorary member of Tribe Slap-a-Ho because I would have cuffed the bitch.”

  “I didn’t want to mess up my manicure.”

  In the calm before the storm of laughter Ilene gave me the most comical expression. It was the girliest thing I’d ever said. The giggles didn’t subside until we were in the house and the Pomeranians were in the backyard.

  “I’m going to tease you about that manicure comment for years.” Ilene shook out the blankets on the sofa.

  “Wouldn’t surprise me. It was…an inspired moment.”

  “Your cowboy would get a kick out of it too.”

  Those words drug up the ugliness from the bar and flung it into the bright lights of the living room. Without Adelle to pin my anger on, the emotion evaporated and left me filled with a sense of unease. My stomach soured and my head hurt. I sank to the sofa, examining the events of the past few days.

  Such a tumultuous time, a rollercoaster of emotion, with hills built from Slade’s calls, and valleys carved with news from Michigan and Adelle’s taunts. The ride had started and stopped with Slade digging up information on Matt. A week ago, it framed every thought I entertained and choice I made. Distance and time to think had changed much, had taken out the sting. Now, it was the least of my concerns but still kept me from the arms of the man I loved when I most wanted to shelter in them.

  Shadows obscured the hands of the clock on the wall, but by leaning against the sofa’s arm and craning my neck, the digital clock on the stove was visible. Nearly midnight. It’s too late to call him.

  Ilene appeared from the kitchen with two snow-covered Pomeranians in tow. “I’m going to go to bed now only sleep is going to save Steve a serious tongue lashing when he comes home.”

  Yawning, I nodded and pulled the tie-dyed bull from my bag tucked under the end table. “I’m going to crash too.”

  Haloed by the light of the staircase, Ilene looked like a ragged angel. “You’re going to call Slade tomorrow.” I opened my mouth to argue. She shut me up with a raised finger. “Don’t start with me. You will call him. Then we’ll all feel better. G’night, Kally.”

  “Night, Ilene.” I shuffled to the downstairs half-bath and changed into pajamas before dragging the blanket from the sofa to the armchair. Turning the chair to face the window, I pushed the curtain aside to look in the direction of the Fourth Moon. “I miss you, too, Slade. I wish I’d told you.”

  I closed my eyes and surrendered to the dream of the night he had held me.

  Slade and Kally: Letting Go of the Reins, Book 1

  Chapter Eighteen

  The ranch was quiet. The shadows in the corners of his room whispered in Kally’s voice when Slade awoke before dawn. Though he strained to understand them, the words fled quicker than his dreams.

  Joints cracked when he stretched. His muscles were achy from lying on his side with his arm around an imagined Kally. He stood before the windows of his bedroom, curtain pulled aside while he looked in the direction of Gillette. He envisioned Kally, with her cracked porc
elain appearance and a pained shadow over her eyes when she had put the last bag in the back of Ilene’s Jeep. Sweet pain thumped through his chest. He drew a heart in the frost covering the windowpane, like Kally had the first morning. “I miss you, girl. Please come home.”

  The curtains whispered softly when they swished back in place. Slade turned from his moment of weakness, walked to the closet, pulled out work clothes and dressed for the day. The box harboring his mother’s ring sat on the dresser, a silent sentinel to the hope Slade tenaciously fed for Kally to return to the ranch and him. He dusted the velvet top before closing the door.

  Sunday mornings were always quiet on the Fourth Moon, and without the light and crackles of the fire, the Christmas tree and Santa Claus figures could well be Ghosts of Christmas Yet to Come. Adding more kindling to embers in the grate, Slade revived yesterday’s fire and then added logs to the growing blaze. He donned his Stetson and headed to the foyer to pull on boots and a coat. Beams of vehicle headlights bounced and joggled through the pines lining the north drive, announcing the arrival of Slade’s weekend helper, Red Baxter.

  Reliable old Red. Baxter might shoot off at the mouth now and then, but if you needed help, Red was the man to call. Slade buttoned up his jacket, stepped out and then shut the door.

  Slade’s cheeks stung and crisp cold air tingled in his nose. He stomped his feet while he waited on the porch. The haphazard dance of high beams steadied to a smooth roll. The light blue vehicle rolled to a stop at the porch steps, the headlights shining past the carpentry shop when the wheels came to a halt. He looked at the shed and the packed trail beside it. He’d spent every afternoon out there while Kally was gone.

  Red motioned for Slade to climb on. He stepped onto the running boards of the Rodeo, holding onto the luggage rack while his old partner and constant ranch hand drove down to the barn. Left running, the Rodeo’s engine purred and the lights aimed at the barn. Red’s door creaked when he opened it. It had since he had slammed it hard two years back. “G’morning, Slade.”

  “Morning.” Slade stepped off the running board and skated across the packed snow to the barn door. “I appreciate ya helping me like this.”

  Red laughed, his cheeks round and nearly apple red in the morning chill. “You say it every morning, and I always say ‘you’re welcome’ so…you’re welcome. I’m happy to help. And Slade?”

  He pulled open the barn doors and whistled to the horses inside. “Yeah?”

  “I’m sorry I chased off your filly.”

  Oh, Kally. A sad heartbeat sent pain through him. “It’s not your fault, Red. If anything, you just facilitated an earlier departure date for her. She’s a smart girl, she would’ve found out anyway.”

  In the barn, yellow eyes followed every move he made while Kally’s tomcat watched him from the rafters, swishing his tail if Slade got too close. When Red walked out of hearing range, he cooed to the cat the way Kally did. Red peeked around the edge of the door and Slade shrugged his shoulders and pretended to sneeze. Eyes traveling the edges of the barn, Red found the ginger kitty and then looked at Slade and snorted.

  The oat mix his mother fed to the horses released dust into the air when he portioned out meals for the animals. He wriggled into Jack’s stall with a curry brush and a bucket, brushing the horse while he ate. While he repeated the process with Sunny, his helper tossed bales of hay into the bed of Slade’s truck, which was parked nearby. Slade stroked the horses’ noses before walking back out and pushing the door mostly closed.

  He waved a glove at the truck bed. “Ready to go?”

  Red nodded. “A-yup.”

  Out of early morning courtesy, Slade eased the Dodge down Rancher’s Row without lights. In the dell where he had found Kally, he circled the back eighty pen to the right while Red’s breath rose in white plumes and he chucked hay into huge tractor tires for the cattle. At the far end, Slade pulled to a stop and the two men checked the troughs and cleaned a pipe to get the water running freely. Sopping wet and smelling of soggy hay, they piled into the warmth of the Dodge.

  Baxter dusted chaff from his pants and rubbed his hands in front of the vent. “You got plans tonight?”

  “On a Sunday?” Slade cocked an eyebrow and tossed Red a curious glance. “I plan to sleep…”

  “Why don’t you come out with me? I’ll buy ya dinner at Butch’s. Call it Men’s Night Out.”

  “Well…” Slade tipped his hat back and dabbed at sweat with a kerchief. He wasn’t quite comfortable going out without Kally. The rumors flying around town bombarded the ranch house worse than any blizzard. He could just imagine the shit storm his appearance would blow up in a place like the roadhouse.

  “Come on.” Red pressed the issue. “Let me buy you a couple drinks and try to make up for screwing up your relationship with Kally.”

  “If it will assuage some of your guilt…”

  Red’s smile did not dissipate the rest of the morning, even through mucking the stalls. They talked about the good old days on the force, and by the time he returned to the ranch house, Slade had let go of missing Kally. He filled his day with ranch chores and discussed the coming Christmas sleigh ride with Rosie before dressing for a night out.

  He paced in the foyer, debating on the wisdom of his decision. If he stayed home, he’d mope around and go to bed early. If he went to Butch’s, everyone would see him without Kally. His musing was halted when Red dialed the house phone. Slade answered. “Hello?”

  “I’m on my way…meet ya there.”

  “See you soon.”

  Butch’s didn’t look the same without the light of Kally’s smile. The building hadn’t changed, the same garish neon signs decorated the outside, and many of the cars in the parking lot were there the night he and Kally were there. The only real difference was his smile was gone. Slade put the truck in park and heaved a sigh when he pulled the keys from the ignition. What the hell am I doing here? Oh yeah, easing Red’s guilt…

  Suspicion was a wasted effort. He knew who would be in the roadhouse, and pretty damned near where they’d be sitting too. The snakes in the pit of his gut turned to slimy eels. Adelle was in there somewhere, and Slade without Kally was like a fish bleeding in the water. The bleached blonde shark would smell his weakness and be out for the kill.

  Red Baxter’s blue Rodeo pulled up alongside the Dodge. His too-big, too-clean bone colored hat perched atop his head looked like bobber floating on a pond. He waved and climbed from his rig, and then walked up to Slade’s window and tapped on it.

  “All right, all right.” Slade stuffed his keys in his pocket and opened the door. “Let’s get this over with.”

  “If you’re uncomfortable, we don’t need to go in there.”

  Slade’s gaze fell to his boots. A shadow in the gravel looked conspicuously like his heart. His heel sunk into the darkness when he turned and shut the door. “I need to do something to get the girl off my mind.”

  In the entryway he caught sight of Cissy Rawlings, and any doubt he might have entertained about Adelle being inside evaporated. He pulled his Stetson forward and tucked his chin in the collar of his jean jacket. The chuckle beside him was only a precursor for the thump between his shoulder blades. Red’s voice was in his ear. “Hiding ain’t going to do you no good. Cissy already saw you, and everyone around Hulett knows Kally left for Gillette.”

  Yup, I’m bleeding in the water. Here comes a scout shark. Suzy Mitchell was on her way to the door. Her hair was piled exceptionally high, and her grip was exceedingly tight on Slade’s wrist when she led them through the bar to a corner table near the dance floor.

  “What can I get you, boys?” Her voice was close to a purr.

  Slade ordered a bloomin’ onion, the biggest chunk of steak on the menu, a basket of fries with a side of fry sauce, a shot of bourbon and a beer. Red’s meal was meager in comparison, scaling the steak back to a sizzler and the fries down to a baked potato. Suzy’s breasts nearly jumped from her blouse when she leaned closer. “
A little hungry tonight, Slade?”

  “Famished.” He leaned back against the tooled leather cushion. “So be a good waitress and scoot your booty on into the kitchen and place our order, all right?”

  “Mmm.” Her eyelashes dropped in an attempt at a sexy come-hither look. “As you command.” She turned fast enough to toss her tight-wrapped butt in Slade’s face.

  Suzy returned with their drinks and the bloomin’ onion. Red lifted his glass and toasted. “Here’s to a new tradition of Men’s Night Out.”

  Here’s to Kally. Slade clinked his shot glass against Red’s tumbler and then tossed the shot back. He swallowed, felt it burn down his throat and wished to hell it would burn in his chest and warm the spot grown cold in Kally’s absence.

  Suzy walked past, on her way to another table. Red raised his hand, wolf whistled and shouted, “Yo, nurse!”

  Her boobs reached the table before she did. “You boys ready for another round?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Slade’s empty shot glass pirouetted on her tray when she turned.

  Slade averted his eyes, his gaze trailing to the corner of the dance floor where he’d held Kally tight to his chest. She had been soft, warm and her floral scent had wrapped him in wonder. A familiar pain bubbled in his chest. He wallowed in it and hated it. All he wanted was the happiness they’d shared before. He looked up in time for Suzy to slide another shot of bourbon in his direction.

  His eyes slipped closed, he swallowed and the warmth of the firewater spread a little further in his chest. A few more shots and the ache might just get numbed.

  Red watched his friend with a masculine sense of caring. “Think another shot might help?”

  “Yup. It just might.” Slade nodded his head and tipped his beer back. Suzy reappeared, laden with food and another shot glass of amber liquor. Red’s eyebrows went up. “Where’d the shot come from? We didn’t order another one.”

  Suzy’s eyes darted to a corner table. “It’s from—”

  “Me.” Adelle Crawford finished her sentence.