My Hero (Cowboy Craze)

by Sable Hunter

  By

  SABLE HUNTER

  A Hell Yeah!

  Spin-off Series

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  MY HERO

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright 2018 © Sable Hunter

  Cover: JRA Stevens for Down Write Nuts

  Formatting: Down Write Nuts

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher

  Every woman deserves a hero.

  Apple Wright’s world comes crashing down around her when she finds out her soldier husband has been declared MIA. After the agony of not knowing his fate, her grief is magnified when she reads his journal and finds out, that not only was he planning on seeking a divorce, she’s destroyed to learn how boring and undesirable he found her to be. With her self-confidence in tatters, she intends to live a solitary life where she’ll never disappoint anyone else. After being let down by love, Apple thinks holding out for a hero is an impossible dream.

  Until…a handsome, gentle, sexy hunk comes waltzing into her life, takes one look at her, and falls head over spurs in love.

  He’s been holding out, just waiting for ‘Miss Right’ – and now he’s found her. At first glance, the handsome cowboy seems to be too good to be true. Half Apache, he straddles two worlds. No stranger to judgement and prejudice, the injustices he’s faced have only made him more compassionate. Once he sets out to prove his intentions are honorable, Apple finds her determined suitor is exactly what he appears to be.

  With Benjen Blackhawk, what you see is what you get…

  and what you see is definitely worth a second look.

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  About the Author:

  SABLE’S BOOKS

  CHAPTER ONE

  PROLOGUE

  The rugged trails we walk, the high mountains we climb, the rough rivers we must cross…all of these are but landmarks on the road to our destiny.

  The tears we shed, the smiles, the slips and falls – all of these mold us into who we will become.

  Two people, living separate lives, never knowing their pathways will lead to one another.

  Benjen at 17

  I have seen your future, Benjen, and it is good. You will walk through the valley, but you will not remain in the shadows. Your home is on the mountaintop. Press on to higher ground.

  Benjen closed his eyes and listened to the sound of Yuma Blackhawk’s voice as it was carried on the wings of the wind whispering through the trees. His heart ached to know he’d never speak to his father in this lifetime again.

  The funeral was over. The neighbors had paid their respects and went on their way. His brothers were at home, coming to terms with the fact both their parents were gone. Four brothers, the oldest barely in his twenties, and a 1447-acre ranch to run. There was no other family for them to depend upon. Only each other.

  Standing beneath the spreading oak, Benjen stared at the twin headstones. One new. One beginning to weather. He knelt down and ran his hand over the pink granite. A knot formed in his throat when he remembered what he’d heard being said in town.

  Talk about irony. Who ever heard of a redskin being killed by a drunk driver? Isn’t the Indian the one usually falling down drunk?

  Yea, ironic. His father never drank. Even after their mother passed, he’d stood firm in his principals, determined to raise the boys to be strong, brave men. Bowing his head, Benjen closed his eyes to contain the tears. “I still need you. I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

  Even though he was the youngest, he knew his brothers all felt the same way. Easy seemed to be taking it the hardest. but he’d seen the whole thing. Benjen couldn’t imagine the horror of watching the wreck take place right before his eyes and being unable to stop it from happening.

  A high-pitched piping noise sounding overhead caused Benjen to look up. There was no other sound in nature like it, the call of a bald eagle. He scanned the sky until he saw the bird sailing proudly on an air current, dipping and climbing, surveying its domain. A sense of peace filled him. Rising to his feet, Benjen looked beyond the small hillock where his parents rested, to the rise of the mountain in the distance and the ribbon of river in its shadow. Undeniably, a slice of Heaven on Earth. Once again, his father’s words reached his ears.

  I grew up here, as did my father, and his father before him. Before ownership of land was defined by a deed written on a piece of paper, this land belonged to us.

  Benjen remembered him standing on the top of Packsaddle Mountain, raising his weathered bronzed face to the sky.

  Feel it. A sense of place. Our home is not just defined by the number of acres we possess, but by the people who live here, the collective experiences.

  “I don’t understand, Bitaa.” He called him one of the Apache words for father.

  He’d smiled and winked at Benjen. “There’s an old house in Tupelo, Mississippi. A tiny shot-gun house, so small you could fit four of them in the bottom floor of the home I built for your mother. If you were to go there, you’d wonder how people could manage to live their life in such a cramped place. I can guarantee, you wouldn’t be impressed…until I told you it was the house where Elvis Presley was born.”

  Benjen’s eyes had bugged. “I’d like to see it. I love to play Elvis’s music on my guitar.”

  “See? Even in your mind’s eye, that unassuming shot-gun house has taken on a different spirit. What tales those walls could tell. The floor wouldn’t just be wood and linoleum, it would be where Elvis walked. The porch wouldn’t be just a place to sit, you would picture Elvis sitting there with his mother, singing a gospel song.”

  “I think I understand. Our home isn’t just land and a house, it’s also the memories.”

  His father had nodded. “The memories of days gone by and the hope for the future.”

  Squaring his shoulders, Benjen took a deep breath. There was work to be done. Time to put aside childish things and be a man. He pushed a strand of long ebony hair over his shoulder and fit his Stetson on his head. One of the last conversations he’d had with his father flitted through his mind. Looking back, he wondered if Yuma had sensed the end was near.

  “I love each of my sons equally, but even with your mother’s blue eyes, you are more like me than your brothers.” He’d chuckled and given him a wink. “I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not.”

  “It’s a good thing,” Benjen said with pride. “I want to be just like you.”

  �
�You don’t remember my mother, your shichu, but the first time she held you in her arms, she predicted you would be spiritual. The Apache don’t use the word shaman, but that’s how the outside world would define our medicine men.” He tapped his forehead. “You have this insight and a healing touch. Compassion.”

  Benjen hung on his father’s every word. “Teach me. I want to know everything.”

  Yuma let out a long sigh. “I will not leave you adrift. I have recorded everything I have learned and everything my father taught me in a buckskin journal. You will have it when the time comes.”

  At that moment, Benjen hadn’t understood his father was saying he wouldn’t be around to teach him in person.

  “When will the time come?”

  “Sooner than I wished it would.” He let out a long, solemn breath. “Just remember, each of my sons will walk their own path. Daniel is a leader. He will be the mainstay. Easy is laughter. He will keep the sun shining bright and the clouds at bay. Samuel is a rock. He is like the placid surface of a lake with hidden depths.”

  “What about me, Bitaa? What am I?”

  Picking up the reins, he led his mount out to the edge of a circular swale some fifty foot across. Surrounded by willows and carpeted by deep grass, the depression lay near a spring-fed creek which flowed toward the river. The ground at his feet was marked by deer tracks, and a raven called from the top of a nearby cottonwood tree. A small orange butterfly flitted in a shaft of warm sunlight. Benjen wondered how things could look so normal and bright on such a dark day.

  With one last look at the graves of his loved ones, he turned his mind toward the future. The prospect of making his father’s prophecy come true seemed a daunting task, especially without Bitaa’s guiding hand.

  As he rode away, heading home, the answer to his question settled on his shoulders like a mantle being passed from father to son.

  “You are the heart of the family. You feel things deeper. Your sense of right and wrong is heightened. You, my son, will be a hero.”

  Apple at 17

  “I now pronounce you husband and wife.” The justice of the peace pushed the license closer to the young couple standing on the opposite side of the worn mahogany desk. Put your John Henry on the dotted line and we’re done, Mr. and Mrs. Cates.”

  “We’re married?” Apple asked as she gazed at the man she loved with absolute awe in her voice.

  “The knot is tied,” the older man announced tiredly. “Be sure and give the receptionist my fee.”

  “Thank you, we will!” Apple grasped Alan by the arm. “I’m so happy I could cry.”

  “I know the feeling,” Alan muttered under his breath.

  “Pipe down.” His father popped him on the back of the head with his hat and handed him a folded twenty-dollar bill to pay for the short civil ceremony. “Remember what she did for you.”

  Apple seemed oblivious to her groom’s less than enthusiastic attitude. She was busy hugging her mother and her new mother-in-law, accepting their congratulations, and assuring them their marriage would be a long and happy one. “I can’t wait to set up housekeeping. I’ll cook dinner for y’all. We’ll have a party!”

  “You’d better move along, Sissy.” The bride’s father encouraged her to join the young man she’d just wed as he walked out the door of the courthouse toward his souped-up blue pickup.

  “Oh, I’m ready to go. I can’t wait to start our new life.” Clutching the small bouquet of carnations she’d purchased at the neighborhood grocery store, Apple hurried down the steep staircase to the street. “We’ll call you tomorrow. Thank you for everything! We love you!”

  “Oh, come on, Apple. Enough is enough.” Alan settled behind the wheel and waited impatiently while his new wife opened the passenger door and crawled up into the cab to join him. “I’ve got stuff to do.”

  “I know.” Apple let out a long, contented sigh. “I made a cake for us.” She reached over to rub his arm. “And then we have our wedding night to look forward to.”

  “At least there’s that,” he mumbled, gazing into the rearview mirror as he was about to pull out into the street.

  “I’m sure it would be more exciting if we’d never made love before, but…” She leaned over to kiss Alan’s cheek. “We couldn’t wait. I couldn’t resist you.” Her new husband didn’t comment, he reached over and took her hand, giving it a slight squeeze.

  Apple entwined her fingers with his, turning her head to gaze out at the window. “We’re going to have a good life. The little house your parents rented for us is just perfect. You have your job with your dad and we have our baby on the way.” She turned his hand over to rest on her abdomen. “I’ve dreamed of our future. I have it all mapped out. Everything is going to be perfect.”

  “You aren’t the only one with dreams, Apple.”

  “I know. You want to see the world. Travel. Write the great American novel. Have adventures.” She looked at him with pleading eyes. “We can have adventures together.”

  Alan’s jaw tightened and he exhaled slowly. “Yea, sure. Except you’re pregnant and I have to support our family.”

  “I have complete faith in you. You’re so smart.” In her mind, Alan was a genius. Unlike her, learning came easy to him. She didn’t even know how many languages he could speak.

  “Yea, but I planned to go to college. I can’t see that happening now.” He tried to keep his voice even, but the panic rising in him was hard to contain.

  “I know, but there’s time. We have our whole lives to look forward to. You’re healthy now and that’s all that matters.”

  “Thanks to you.”

  Apple didn’t try to evaluate the clipped timbre of his words. Alan had been through so much. He’d lived his life under the cloud of an uncertain future. “I’m so grateful I could help you by giving you a kidney. Finding out we were a perfect match in every way just seemed like fate.” She raised his hand to her lips and kissed it. “I love you so much. I love you more than anything in the world.”

  Even though Alan was driving, he closed his eyes for a few seconds, trying to block out the turmoil he was feeling. Conflicting emotions roiled in his chest. Gratitude. Resentment. The heavy burden of responsibility. The suffocating feeling of being trapped in a situation he had no control over. “I love you too.” Or at least he used to think he did.

  “Don’t worry. Everything is going to be fine. We’re going to be happy. You’ll see.” Apple turned her head to look out the window again. The rose-colored glasses she wore made the world seem like a wonderful place.

  Benjen at 18

  “Hey, look at the Injun! What are you doing here, redskin?”

  Ignoring the jeers from the guys sitting on the bank of Honey Creek, he continued to tread water. The detractors were locals, all a few years older than him. Benjen was enjoying his swim too much to be distracted by people who were not important to him. He’d come down to the river to gather cattails for their pollen. He used the yellow powdery substance called hoddentin, a sacred pollen, in many of the rituals he performed, always carrying a portion in the buckskin bag he wore on his belt.

  “Freak! His hair is so long!” A guy wearing a Cowboy’s cap with a gold front tooth laughed as he drank his beer. “Are you a warrior or a fag?”

  “Did you know you’re trespassing on private property?” Benjen asked calmly as he broke off another cattail and threw it up on the bank.

  “I didn’t think you people owned land off the reservation.” This wise-ass comment was made by a dude with a shaved head and a ginger goatee.

  “Well, we do. When you passed the fork upstream, you crossed onto Blackhawk land.” Benjen swam out to the middle of the river, debating whether to go about his business or engage in additional trash talk with the redneck locals.

  “Impossible, white people took your land away a century ago. You have to live in our world now.”

  Benjen shook his head, not really knowing if the guy was just argumentative or truly mentally challenged.
“We abide by most white customs. I’ve only scalped a half-dozen jerks like you this year.”

  “Why, you dirty…” One of the others stumbled to his feet, seemingly ready to jump in the water when his game plan was interrupted by the arrival of two girls.

  “Hey, guys. Care for some company?”

  “You bet!” A pimply-faced blond guy jumped up to meet the female newcomers. “Who is your friend, Denise?” he asked the tall brunette with a pixie haircut.

  Benjen’s decision to leave was abruptly changed when he laid his eyes on a beautiful blonde hanging back from the others. She wasn’t dressed like her friend, who wore short-shorts and a halter top. No, this little doll looked like a throwback to the fifties in pedal-pushers and a sleeveless top. Even in the warm water, Benjen could feel chill bumps rise all over his body. A sense of destiny rose in his breast. Cocking his head, he waited impatiently to learn her name.

  “This is my friend, Kelli Conway. She just recently moved to Kingsland. Her dad is the new Baptist preacher.”

  There was more talk, but Benjen didn’t hear. His total attention was focused on the gorgeous girl. She seemed to be shy and not into whatever was being said to her. When the goatee guy joined them and tried to put his arm around the blonde, she backed away. Her retreat didn’t seem to sit well with her would-be suitor who grabbed Kelli by the shoulder and yanked her close to him.

  “Stop! Don’t!”

  She didn’t need to say a word more as far as Benjen was concerned. “Get your damn hands off her!” He swam the few feet until his feet touched bottom and then he began to stride out to the shore.

  “Holy Fuck. Who’s that?” Denise asked as she turned her eyes to the river. “Look at those shoulders. Look at that hair. He’s a god!”

  “Put your eyes back in your head, Denise. He’s a dirty Indian, that’s all!”