Cowboy (The Busy Bean)

by L. B. Dunbar

  “And what if I did want another job working someday?” Them’s fighting words in her tone, and I don’t blame her. I’m looking for a fight for some reason.

  “Reporting again?” I sneer as I wave out at her phone. My voice rises. With my broad shoulders set, I glare at her. “We made promises to each other.” She wasn’t going to work for them again, but what have I promised her? I’m here for her day in and day out. What more could she want from me?

  As she stares up at me, Scarlett’s face blanches, reading the questions in my own expression. I just want her to tell me the truth. Why is her former boss contacting her? What does she want with them? Obviously, a job, more opportunity, a return to the city life.

  “I’m not . . .” she quietly admits. “I just . . . have something to discuss with him.”

  “What?” I snap.

  We’ve been together all these months. I don’t have a reason to feel the way I’m suddenly feeling, but still, I can’t seem to help it. My chest constricts, and suspicions race.

  “It’s nothing. It’s not a job or anything like that,” she states. What else could her former boss offer her, though? Turning away from me, she stares outside the window.

  “Is being here not enough?” Scarlett flinches as if the words cut. I was so close to opening up to her, telling her how I felt. We made love last night before the fireplace in the coolness of an October evening and in celebration of my birthday. I want to slap myself in relief that I hadn’t told her how I feel. I’m grateful I haven’t admitted I love her, so at least I can keep my dignity if she decides to leave.

  “You know that’s not it. I asked you to have faith in me. Have I not proven myself to you?” Frustration fills her voice.

  Now would be the time for me to offer her reassurance. Perhaps if I opened up, she’d know the truth. I love her, and I don’t want her to go anywhere. We can find her other work in Vermont. She can return to the Busy Bean if she wants, or whatever she feels she needs to do to keep her here.

  Instead, my feelings seize up. My mouth opens but quickly shuts. Without another word, I turn on my heels and head to the barn.

  25

  Investigative Reports

  Scarlett

  I’m so sorry Bull misunderstood my text, but I can’t tell him yet what I’ve been doing. Deep down, I still felt sick about the Bovine Bridegroom scandal and wanted to make things right by Bull and his family. Mainly, I wanted Bull to know how the network got such a story in the first place. What drew our attention to it? Who passed it on to us? Lex wasn’t as helpful as I thought he could be, but when I reminded him I could sue the network for age discrimination, he was willing to give me the favor he owed me.

  “We can have a crew there in two days. In and out.”

  “Perfect.” It had to work.

  “You know, we really do miss you around here,” Lex stated, his voice dropping just enough I might believe he’s sincere.

  “Funny, I haven’t missed you,” I teased.

  “You’ll always miss me, Red,” he joked. I worked with the man for twenty years. He was my work-husband as labels go, yet he dumped me as easily as my true-husband did.

  “I appreciate this, Lex.”

  “Anything for you,” he lied.

  No, I’d be doing everything for Bull.

  Two days after his birthday, Bull was still upset with me. He used the barn as an excuse to rise early and work late, falling into our shared bed but not drawing me into him as he always did. I hated it, and I slept terribly. Shelton and I didn’t sleep pressed up against one another but rather on our own sides of the bed. Bull liked to be right in the middle with me tucked into him.

  I missed Bull. I missed our night’s cuddling and his hand stroking over my belly, speaking to Sprout with his touch.

  We have plans to attend a fall party at Speakeasy. I was seven weeks out from having Sprout and really needed a break from the house. I wasn’t quarantined to bed rest, but I did lounge around more than I ever had in my life. Keeping my feet up and my blood pressure down took work. No more sad movies, Bull warned me months ago. I read a copious number of romance novels, which really heated things up between Bull and me. Not that we needed help in that department as my pregnancy hormones were still off the charts. It’s another reason I missed Bull these last two evenings.

  The plan to attend the party had another purpose, one which includes the fact Canyon will be playing his guitar this evening as a part of the entertainment. I was hedging bets that the place would be busy, filled with locals wishing to support the party. It was something I was counting on happening. Begrudgingly, Bull agreed to still go in support of his brother. He’d hardly been able to look at me as I walked around in just a towel, not even feeling remotely sexy but still trying to draw his attention to me as we used to do to one another when I first moved in.

  While I didn’t doubt Bull’s feelings for me, I was suddenly doubting his feelings about me living with him. I didn’t want to lack confidence in our situation. All would be revealed soon enough, but the silent treatment unnerved me. Maybe I was making a huge mistake.

  Speakeasy is another bar located on the old gin mill property where the new Gin Mill bar exists. The Busy Bean Café also sits on the same land. The microbrewery is another combination of Rossi and Shipley with Zara’s brother, Alec, being part owner and Griff Shipley, Audrey’s husband, being part investor. The large open layout houses a viewing window of brew tubs to the left with a giant oval bar in the center of the plank wood floors. Exposed brick and wrought-iron chandeliers give the place a rustic vibe. A patio runs the expanse of the back of the building, overlooking the Winooski River.

  In the corner is a small stage for entertainment, and we quickly find Canyon setting up. He was formerly in a band, but he’s mellowed his tune into a singular guy with a guitar. Bull told me Canyon has always fiddled with his instrument, but living away from the main house means we don’t hear him practicing. Still, sometimes, he’ll take his favorite strings to the fields, and the slight echo carries to our house. Bull jokes that it’s been a long time since Canyon sang before a crowd other than our milkers.

  Once we find a table near the stage, I can’t sit still. My foot taps. My fingers rap on the tabletop. I can’t drink, but I wish I could sip some wine to calm down. Eyeing the crowd, I see it’s a full house, and I nod at a few people I recognize. Bull gazes at me, noticing my jiggling fingers but not mentioning it.

  Finally, I see who I’d been counting on attending the party. To my surprise, though, he has Louisa Miller on his arm. After putting Redd in his place a few months back, I realize things could go one of two ways. Redd could ignore Bull because he’d been schooled by a woman, or he could be pissed off that a woman schooled him before fellow farmers. I was counting on the latter and was lucky to find Redd Bottom was so easy to predict.

  “Well, what do we have here? Farmer in the dell and . . . a bun in the oven? Did he finally take a wife?” Bull glares up at his nemesis, and I reach for his forearm. I hate that he bristles under my touch, but I keep my hand there as both a way to steady him and myself. I need Redd to stick around a bit.

  “Not yet,” I tease while adding some sassy. “I’m thinking of asking him.”

  Bull’s head pops up, and his entire forehead furrows. Unable to meet his eyes at my suggestion, I focus on Redd instead and Louisa glancing over her shoulder, feeling uncomfortable near our table.

  “Don’t want to jinx the bull. Maybe he’ll be the one to run for the hills this time,” Redd mocks.

  Before I know what’s happening, Bull is standing to his full height. Chest out, arms at his side in fists, his jaw clenches. I can’t stand as quickly as him, and while I’m struggling to get upright, preparing to place myself between two large men, Blade walks in with Clayton behind him.

  “I might have swollen ankles and fat feet, but I’d still chase him.” This comment doesn’t even tip Bull’s head in my direction, but his eyes shift my way.

 
“What’s going on here?” Blade asks, meeting his brother’s gaze and noting the stature of both men. I wait on Bull to answer, but Redd interjects.

  “Nothing.” His lips purse. “We’re stepping out for some fresh air as it smells like bullshit in here.” Redd wraps his arm around Louisa’s neck, nearly choking her as he tugs her into his side.

  “Better than smelling like a wolf in sheep’s clothing,” I add. Redd’s brows pinch like I’m one strange bird before he tugs Louisa behind him, and they head for the patio.

  “What was that?” Blade questions, watching Redd walk away before looking at his brother. “You feeling alright?”

  Blade must know what I’ve already surmised. Bull is not one to fight. Not when it comes to juvenile, immature, full-grown adults.

  “Yeah. I’m fine,” he lies, lowering back to his chair. I want to return my hand to his arm, but the vibe coming off him says don’t touch him. He addresses his brother and his friend instead. “Take a seat.”

  Bull nods to the other two chairs at our table, and the men join us.

  “And look at you all feisty with her sheep’s clothing comment,” Blade teases.

  “Too much?” I ask, as I often have in the past. I’ve been known to be over the top at times. It’s one way a woman could make it in a man’s business world.

  Thankfully, Canyon walks onto the stage and introduces himself.

  “Thanks for coming out tonight. I’m Canyon Eaton.”

  “You’re Canyon Blaze,” someone shouts from the back, and Canyon sits up taller at the recognition of his former stage name.

  “Now, I’m just Canyon.” He smiles sheepishly, and I see the rock star behind the smile. The man who wooed groupies and got one pregnant on his road to success. He strums at this guitar and introduces the song over a few practice chords. “This one’s a favorite called ‘Fools Rush In.’”

  My neck cranes as I glance up at the side of Bull’s face. He slowly shakes his head with only the hint of a grin.

  “Dammit,” he mutters as Canyon breaks into the opening line of Elvis Presley’s famous song. My hand is covered by Bull’s.

  “Want to dance?”

  I glance around as there isn’t really a dance floor. “Here?” I question. There’s hardly space between tables, and I’m almost double my size.

  “Right here,” Bull suggests. He stands, and I follow, wrapping my hand into his as his arm comes around my waist. I need to stand almost sideways to him, but he’s somehow still tucked me into him. We listen to the harmony about fools rushing into love and how it can’t be helped, and the song is the theme for Bull and me. We remain quiet as Bull sways me back and forth, and my cheek rests near his heart, which races wildly in his chest.

  My eyes scan the room again, finding another pair of men I recognize, but I close my eyes to them, swallowing up this moment before all hell breaks loose.

  When the song ends, I glance up at Bull.

  “Thank you,” I whisper, and his brow furrows once more.

  “For what?” he says.

  “For loving me.” He hasn’t said it to me. He might never admit it, but I want him to know that no matter how he labels it, this is love. What he’s done for me, how he treats me, who he is, has to be love.

  “Scarlett, I—”

  “I need some air.” Immediately, I sense I’ve made a mistake and excuse myself.

  I step out to the patio where propane heaters warm the area, lessening the October chill. I approach the railing, looking out over the river. It feels ironic that I’m standing here, facing the same flowing water where I broke the news to Bull that I was pregnant. Slowly, I scan the surrounding patio finding the two men I recognized inside taking a seat at a table in the corner, closer to a space heater. Through the opening of the door, I can hear Canyon crooning through another song. This one I don’t recognize as well.

  The air remains cool, but pregnancy weight keeps me warm as I wait out one more song.

  Come on, I mutter to myself, counting once again on a foolish man in the bar. Keeping my back to the entrance, I tap my fingers on the railing as the music softly lulls out to the patio.

  “With a name like Scarlett, you and I are better suited for one another.” Tipping back, I make eye contact with the men across the patio. Just want to make certain someone has me in their sights as I spar with this man.

  “Redd.” I chuckle softly but don’t finish my giggle before the entrance door to the main bar opens, and Bull stalks toward me.

  “Get out of here, Redd,” Bull demands, and the sheepherder turned woodcarver chuckles.

  “Feeling threatened?” he teases.

  “Bull would never need to feel that way,” I state, catching Bull’s eyes finally. “He knows I have staying power.”

  Redd huffs and turns on his heels, and I reach out for Bull’s wrist. “But Redd, I’m curious if you’ve ever heard of Lex Steinman.” Redd stills and turns back to face me. In the dark of the night, only the fire lamps illuminate the space plus a dim outdoor light. Still, the pinch of Redd’s face is evident.

  “Can’t say that I have?”

  “Scarlett,” Bull hisses beside me, but I squeeze tighter at his wrist.

  “What about MoosHaveRights2? Ever hear of that group?” I question. Redd rolls his head back a bit and glares at me.

  “Everyone’s heard of the group. What are you going on about?” he questions.

  “Don’t speak to Scarlett like that,” Bull warns, and everything in his voice drips malice. I’ve never heard him so gruff, and it’s a bit titillating while scary at the same time.

  “Redd, when was the last time you were on Eaton property?”

  “Scarlett,” Bull hisses once more.

  “Say that back field.”

  Redd seethes.

  “The field you want to share with the Eatons.”

  Bull doesn’t comment.

  “The one you stole onto with a MoosHaveRights2 member and planted that hellish story about Bull and his cows.”

  Bull remains silent, but Redd nearly vibrates with anger. His fists clench.

  “That’s private property you stepped on. Invaded. And took illegal films on without proper consent. You could go to jail.” Redd’s shoulders slowly lower. “There’s also defamation of character, slander, and libel.”

  “I didn’t report that shit. The network who bought the story did.” Legally or not, we didn’t always buy our stories. We sometimes just took the films directly from the internet like everyone else. Somehow, I don’t think Redd is smart enough to know that.

  “But the network wouldn’t have seen the story if you hadn’t taken illegal action with a known animal activist group, putting them in question as well.”

  “It was only supposed to be local.”

  Bull gasps, and I slowly smile.

  “What the hell did you do?” Bull demands.

  “Your old man is so stubborn. He won’t give us a share of the land although we’re willing to pay.”

  “We won’t give you a share of the land despite the money because your sheep would only tear up the land, something your old man knew, and that’s why he never asked us for it. Clean up your own fields.”

  Redd glares deep daggers of hatred at Bull.

  “A wolf in sheep’s clothing smells worse than bullshit,” I state again, and Redd snaps at me.

  “You’re the one who reported the story.”

  “And you’re the one who just admitted it. On camera.” I point in the direction of Glenn and Robert, our old camera crew. “Smile for the camera, Redd.”

  His head turns from the men at the corner table to me. “That’s not legal. I didn’t give my consent to be filmed.”

  “Didn’t give that opportunity to the Eatons, either, did you, Redd?”

  “You son of a bitch.” Blade Eaton has been standing off to the side, behind Redd, listening in, but he steps forward until his eldest brother catches him. “I’ll shear you myself, you fucking red ass.”


  Redd squints at Blade. “I’m so scared.”

  “You should be. When KTEL’s Insider airs that video with you admitting your fault in framing an innocent family all for a piece of land, I don’t think anyone’s going to be interested in business practices with a cheat.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Redd snaps.

  “Try me. Think that story hurt the Eatons? I’ll bury your farm.” The old Scarlett reigns as I seethe at Redd.

  Blade still struggles under Bull’s hands, and Canyon joins us on the patio.

  “What’s going on out here?” he questions, eyeing his eldest brother holding back his youngest and me facing off with their neighbor.

  “Just setting the record straight,” I tell him. “Meet the culprit who set up your family for ruin.”

  Without a second of thought, Canyon pops Redd in the nose, and a bone cracks. Blood seeps from his nose.

  “You-un-ow-itch.” His hand covers his face. Bull reaches for a napkin from a table, unrolling the silverware inside.

  “Here.” He tosses the napkin at Redd in a final act of decency from this family before Redd helps himself off the patio.

  Canyon shakes out his hand.

  “Shit. I didn’t know you had that in you,” Blade teases of the middle Eaton.

  “Can you still play? Do you need ice?” I step forward as Canyon glances after Redd.

  “It was worth it.” Gazing down at his hand, he squeezes it into a fist and back to sprawled fingers. “I’ll be okay.”

  “Aren’t you Canyon Blaze?” We all look up at Glenn, the cameraman. “I’m a huge fan.”

  “Thanks,” Canyon says as the two start a conversation about Canyon’s former career.

  Finally, I risk a look up at Bull.

  “What did you do?” he asks as if his emotions are hardly contained. Uncertain if he’s upset or just stunned, I rush to answer.

  “I started investigating Redd after a few of the things you said about his family, their property, and his desire for that land. Lex finally got back to me the other night. That’s the text message you saw.”