Cowgirl Crazy (#2, Cowboy Way)

by Becky McGraw

  “You don’t know?” the pastor asked kindly.

  “No sir, it’s a long story, but I haven’t seen my mother in over twelve years.”

  The priest’s smile faded, and his eyes filled with anger. “Your stepfather?”

  “Yes, sir,” Ryan replied with a heavy sigh.

  “I’m a Christian, but I think that man needs a pound of what he did to your mother for so many years, before he’s put to death. The devil will be glad to meet him, that is for certain. And I know the Good Lord isn’t going to let him escape the swift sword of justice for what he did.”

  Anger shot back up to his throat to choke him, but Ryan forced it down. He had to know, because his prayer from earlier wasn’t going to cover it, if it were the case. He would go straight down to that jail and drag the bastard out and kill him. “Did he hit, Mary?”

  The priest looked down at the folder in his lap. “According to the police, that is why the murder occurred. Your mother was protecting Mary, and your father pushed her. She fell and her head hit a brick on the edge of the hearth…”

  “That man is not and never has been my father,” Ryan corrected angrily. “My father wasn’t much better, but he did not hit my mother.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Well, your stepfather then.” The priest opened up the folder, and pulled out some documents. “Here is your mother’s death certificate, and the police report. You’ll need to decide on the arrangements for her. I can help with that, if you need me to do that.”

  Ryan looked down at the cream colored paper with the official seal, and emotion burned his eyes again. He sucked in a shuddering breath. “I’d like some help. I need to find a church, and choose a c-c—’ Ryan bit his lower lip, and handed the papers to Twyla. He got up from the chair and left the room to walk down the hall blindly, as tears poured down his face. He found the men’s room, and pushed inside then walked to the sink to lean over it. His fingers bit into the cold porcelain, as he fought to keep from throwing up.

  He felt sick everywhere, in his stomach, his heart, his soul. Bitter regret burned through him. If his mother had just listened to him, moved out when he asked her to, gotten away from that bastard, she would still be alive. If he’d have tried a little harder to convince her to leave with him that day. But she had asked him to leave, begged him to leave. Said it would only make things worse for her if he stayed, or if he came back.

  Shortly thereafter he had gotten the restraining order with his stepfather’s name on it. As long as she stayed with Clarence James, Ryan couldn’t see her. He’d also gotten an assault charge, that the judge had reduced down to disorderly conduct due to the circumstances.

  The door swung open then closed, but Ryan didn’t look that way. He didn’t want anyone to see him like this. His insides felt like someone had sliced them up with razor blades. He now had a sister to think about, and had no idea what he was going to do. He didn’t have a house, his life wasn’t stable enough for a child. Hell, he’d been a tumbleweed for too many years. And then there was his now fucked up career. There was no way he could go back to it. How would he support a child, give her what she needed. He wouldn’t have an income.

  Fear like he’d never known in his life gripped him. His fingers dug deeper into the bowl of the sink, until the tips went numb, as numb as his frozen mind.

  “Ryan, I’m going to help you through this. We’ll figure it out together, you’ve just got to stay with me,” Twyla said in a raw whisper. “I know you’re hurting, but we’ve got to make plans. I asked the pastor to give us a couple of days to figure things out.”

  “Good,” Ryan croaked, knowing a couple of centuries wouldn’t give him time to figure this out.

  “The first thing we’re going to do is go out to that farm where they lived, and check it out, see if it’s anywhere you or Mary could live. If it’s not, we’ll figure something else out.”

  “Don’t have the address,” he said with a shuddering breath. He didn’t want to go to the place where his mother lived with that man, where she died. How could he live there?

  “I have it. It’s on the death certificate. Let’s go get something to eat, then go out there.”

  “It’s too late tonight. I need a shower and some sleep. Let’s get a hotel, and go in the morning,” Ryan said, as he stood and wobbled on his feet.

  “Yeah, that’s probably a better idea.” Twyla put her arm around his waist and threw his arm over her shoulder to lead him out of the bathroom. Her quiet steadiness kept him on his feet, and putting one in front of the other. Ryan was just out of it. He had no idea when he wouldn’t feel like this again. Like he was floating in a cloud, and without a whisper of wind to carry it anywhere.

  Twyla led Ryan through the hospital, out the door and the fresh air revived him just a little bit. He had no idea what time it was. If he had to guess it was nearly two or three in the morning. She walked him to the truck and he tried to get his hand in his pocket three times, before he succeeded in grabbing his truck keys. His hand shook so badly, he couldn’t get them into the lock, so Twyla finally took them from him and unlocked the door.

  “Ryan, I want to say I’ll drive, but I don’t know how to drive a stick. Maybe we should just take a cab,” she suggested, stepping between him and the truck door to put her hand on his chest. “You’re not in any condition to drive.”

  He just stared at her beautiful upturned face, her kind caring eyes and wondered how in the hell he’d gotten so damned lucky to have her in his life. Right now, he could be walking around in a daze, not knowing where to go, because he couldn’t form a coherent thought, much less decisions. “Thanks for being here, Twy.”

  She smiled, and put her hand on his face. “Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. You need me, and I’m here,” she said and shrugged. “It’s what friends do.”

  The warmth of her palm felt good on his skin, and her faint scent drifted to his nose, waking up his senses a little. Ryan lifted his hand to her face to stroke his thumb over her soft cheek. “Have I told you how beautiful you are and what an amazing woman you’ve become? And how damned thankful I am to have you for a friend?”

  The feelings that gushed up inside of Ryan were almost overwhelming. It was so much, he fought saying the words on the tip of his tongue. He was emotional, and those words wouldn’t do a damned thing but complicate matters between them right now. Ryan needed this peace between them, and he needed a friend. He needed to hang on tight to the last one he had.

  He stared into her eyes, as he lowered his mouth toward hers. He brushed his mouth over hers and darts of fire shot through him, but he pulled back.

  Twyla sighed, and hugged him, laying her cheek on his chest. “I’m glad you’re my friend too, Ryan.” She pushed back. “Can you drive now?”

  “Yeah, I can drive.” He stepped aside and helped her get up in the truck, then climbed inside beside her. And now they were friends. Why didn’t that feel any better than surrogate siblings? Because Ryan wanted more.

  To his surprise, Twyla didn’t scoot over to the passenger door, she straddled the gear shift in the center of the seat. She waited until he was settled, then put her hand on his knee. “I’m going to watch you, so I can learn to drive a stick.”

  “You don’t know how?” he asked in shock.

  “No, my truck is automatic.”

  Ryan smiled at her, and shut the door. He cranked the truck and looked at her again. “Well, as soon as things settle down, I’ll take you out in the country and show you how to drive a stick—” He stopped, because he realized how stupid his statement was. She wouldn’t be around when things settled down. Once he had a grip on things, she would go back to Dallas, and he would most likely be here. Raising his sister Mary. He was a single father now, had huge responsibilities that he didn’t have twenty-four hours ago.

  Some little twelve-year-old he’d never met was going to be depending on him to keep his shit together and take care of her, provide for her, love her. Fate had a sense of humor choosing him fo
r that chore. Ryan was about as unsettled as a man could get. But that was about to change. It would have to, because he didn’t have a damned bit of choice in the matter. His stepfather hadn’t only taken his mother from him, he’d saddled him with a child that wasn’t his own to raise.

  The weight of it all slammed down on his shoulders and they sank a few inches. Ryan let out a shuddering sigh, as he leaned his arms on the steering wheel and slumped over it trying to get a grip on the rage that consumed him again.

  Twyla’s hand rubbed the circles between his shoulder blades, and tension eased a little, but not enough. “Why did this have to happen now?” he asked, feeling like he was the single resident in his own little world where nobody else had the same fucked up problems as he did. Alone.

  “It happened because it was supposed to happen, Ryan,” Twyla’s even, comforting voice inched tension inside of him down another notch. “Maybe this happening got you away from the rodeo before you wound up crippled from a horse falling on you during a ride,” she suggested. “Or maybe it stopped Mary from growing up damaged and choosing a man just like your stepfather to be with, because it’s all she knew. You can’t question His plan, baby. You just have to roll with it, and try to enjoy the ride. It can be a good thing if you decide it’s going to be a good thing.”

  The thought that his mysterious new sister Mary could’ve wound up with someone just like Clarence James, that she would choose someone like him, because it was all she knew made his stomach roll. “You know why I was so hard on you when I first got to Dallas and found you dancing at that bar? Why I was so freaked out?”

  “Because you’re a control freak like my brother?” Twyla suggested, and he heard the anger and frustration in her tone now.

  Ryan lifted and turned toward her to take her shoulders in his hands. He knew he was holding her tighter than necessary, but Ryan couldn’t help it. He had to make her understand.

  “No, it was because I was afraid that would happen to you too. When Clarence wasn’t beating my mother, he hung out in places like that, used the women there and the alcohol to get himself worked up, so when he came home he used my mother to work off the head of steam he’d built there. With his fists and by raping her if necessary, if she didn’t feel like having sex with a drunk, horny bastard who wanted to use her.”

  “Why the hell did you go to those places then with my brother?” Twyla asked softly, with confusion in her tone.

  “I don’t know why I went. Those women weren’t women I lov—” Ryan cleared his throat, and sucked the words back in on a breath. “I didn’t care about those women. I wasn’t scared they’d end up leaving one night with a man like Clarence, then be in the morgue the next morning like my mother. If that happened to you, I—I” His throat closed up, and he forced it back open. “I always knew if she stayed with him, he’d kill her. And it killed me not to be able to convince her to leave. To have to sit back and wait for it to happen.”

  “I’m sorry, Ryan,” Twyla said, her voice a little hoarse. “This is not your fault. What happened to your mother is not your fault. You tried to help her, but you can’t help someone unless they want that help.”

  “I wanted to help you, but you’re right, I didn’t do it right, because of this. Twy, you’re better than that. The world is a big place, and you are beautiful and talented. You don’t have to cheapen yourself like that, or risk getting attacked by a man like Clarence James or J-jared Wilkins.” His last words came out on an exhausted breath, as he pulled her into his arms and hugged her. “If something like that happened to you, I’d die,” Ryan mumbled into her hair, his throat closing up again, but he managed to squeeze out, “I was so damned scared it would.”

  Twyla pushed back from him, and put her hands on his shoulders. “Look at me Ryan. This is important.” He lifted his eyes to hers, and saw fierce determination there.

  “I’m going to tell you this both for myself, and for your new little sister.” She took a deep breath, and hesitated a moment, then let it out. “You can’t put us in a glass bubble and set us on a shelf then send us off into the world and expect us to know how to take care of ourselves. Without experiencing life, we don’t know how to deal with it when we are in those situations. I know both you and Zack did what you did with good intentions, but you didn’t do me any favors. If I hadn’t had Heather to get me up to speed on things, I probably would have wound up with one of those men. The school of hard knocks has taught her valuable life lessons that serve her well. Because she was allowed to take those knocks, she knows how to avoid them in the future. Does that make sense to you?”

  Ryan didn’t like it, but her words made perfect sense to him. Too much sense. And it also meant when she went back to Dallas, she’d probably be dancing in that bar again. And he’d be here. He had not a right in the world asking, but he knew he had to. “Twyla, will you please, please stop working at the Cowgirl? I’d go crazy here thinking about you dancing there, while I’m stuck here. It about drove me nuts, when I was away two weeks on tour.”

  She sighed, shook her head, then turned to sit with her arms folded over her chest. “I’ll think about it.”

  That was better than nothing, he guessed. He would keep trying to convince her. He had two weeks left to do that. Ryan sat straight in the seat and put the truck in gear. “I think I saw a hotel down the street.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Ryan slapped his credit card and driver’s license down on the counter at the only hotel with rooms available for the night. It wasn’t night anymore, it was now almost four a.m. and he was on the very last ounce of energy he had left.

  The woman slid them off the counter, and smiled. “Double or King room?” she asked as she typed his information into the computer.

  He glanced at Twyla who looked as tired as he did. “Double, please.”

  “King,” Twyla said at the same time, and their eyes met. She slid her arm through his and repeated herself. “We’ll take a King. Top floor if you have it.”

  The woman punched keys on her computer, then smiled. “We do, the last one, but it’s by the elevator.”

  “That’s fine,” Twyla said not breaking eye contact with him.

  “You sure?” he mouthed, and she nodded. Ryan’s heart leapt and his body tried to react, it really did, but there just wasn’t anything left in his tank. He almost wanted double beds, because if Twyla expected anything, he was going to sorely disappoint her. He was wrung out. Done.

  She squeezed his arm, and grabbed the room keys the clerk placed on the counter. “Have a good night’s rest,” she said, handing Ryan his cards back.

  He put them in his wallet, and put his arm around Twyla to walk to the elevator. After pushing the button, he said, “Twy—I ah, don’t have the energy to, ah…”

  She laughed. “You think I don’t know that? I want to hold you. Think you have the energy for that?”

  Cuddling? Ryan didn’t know if he did or not. He’d never slept with a woman, just to sleep with a woman. But if it was in Twyla’s arms, he would definitely give it a try. “My eyes are going to be closed before my head hits the pillow, but we can give it a try,” he said giving her shoulders a squeeze.

  It would be another memory with her to store up. One he could drag out after she left when he was lonely. His heart stopped for a second at the thought, then beat out of control for a few seconds, before it resumed a steady rhythm, when he reminded himself he didn’t need to get attached to her. Life would go on after she left, and he had a helluva lot of things to take care of between now and then. That’s where his focus needed to be, not on panicking that he’d miss her so much he didn’t know how good that life would be when she left. There were a lot more memories to make, before she left. And twelve-years-worth before that. The time he’d spent as a member of her family would be something he’d never forget. He didn’t know where he’d be today if they hadn’t taken him in. Made him one of their own. Ryan would always be grateful. Even though they hated him now, Ryan would
never forget them or what they’d done for him.

  They taught him to be a man. A caring man. And showed him how a family was supposed to be, something he could carry over into creating a good family life for Mary.

  The thought of his new sister, and his tiredness sent emotion up to clog his throat as he stepped out of the elevator. He squeezed Twyla tighter as he walked with her to the door across the hall from the elevator. She slid the key into the door, and they went inside.

  Twyla went to the bathroom, while Ryan shucked his clothes. He staggered to the bed, the pillow calling him like a snake charmer’s flute, and he hadn’t lied, sleep claimed him before his head even rested good on the pillow.

  The next morning, Ryan woke up in what felt like a warm, snuggly cocoon. He felt better than he had in years, had slept better. Then reality slapped him in his face when he realized where he was. His good mood flew right out through that crack in the black-out curtains where the sun shone in so brightly. That light woke him up to the reality of why he was laying in this strange bed. His eyes fell to the blond hair covering his chest, the soft snores of the softer woman whose delicious curves were suctioned to his side like saran wrap.

  His mother was dead, and he had a sister to raise.

  His chest tightened, and he bit his lower lip to keep from wailing and waking Twyla. That wail filled his eyes and they burned like a bitch. He batted them, and turned his head to the side and sucked in a deep breath. He blew it out slowly and tried to force his body to relax. Twyla rustled beside him, then a warm kiss landed on his shoulder.