Cowboy of Mine

by Red L. Jameson

  “Fear is an interesting motivator,” Erva said, making Meredith wonder if she’d somehow peeked inside her brain. But she continued. “Especially so in relationships. See, the fact is Meredith, I don’t judge you either. I get it. After I talked to you, I came home and talked to Will and researched a bit about commitmentphobics, or whatever they want to be called, and, honestly, I would have gone bat shit crazy if I had been in a relationship with David. One minute he’s telling you how much he loves you and needs you, the next he can’t push you away fast enough.”

  Meredith straightened, holding Coyote a little closer, feeling her heart slam into her ribs. “Yes. I never knew what to believe. Sometimes, he acted so loving and kind. He’d say these romantic things. Then, I’d trust him once more. And—wham!—he’d push me away again. But after a few years, you’d think I’d learn the pattern. And sometimes I would. I’d tell him I had to end things, but then...he’d say something, do something to convince me to trust him, to give him another chance. I was such a sucker. So stupid.”

  Coyote growled.

  “Yeah, stop talking that way about my friend,” Erva said, her blonde brows puckering.

  Meredith eyes pricked with tears. It was incredibly sweet that Erva would call her a friend. Having a hard time finding the right words, she said, “You guys.”

  Erva cocked her head a little to the side. “I think you judge yourself a bit too harshly.”

  Meredith nodded and resumed petting Coyote, feeling how it comforted her internal wounds every time she’d gently stroke the dog.

  “You know,” Erva said, “what I read about these guys, and there’s some women who do it too—anyway, what these commitmentphobics do is manipulative. And their scheming patterns adjust to keep hold of the one they are in a relationship with. So you never would know what David would do next—the way he would con you back. You can’t blame yourself for the things David did.”

  “I don’t think I do. Well, not any longer. I do blame David. But I blame me for going crazy in the process. For being cruel to you. For stealing your work. For lying. For—”

  Erva held out her palms. “I can’t take any more. I’m sorry, Meredith. But I can’t. I get it. You beat yourself up. I do the same thing. I do it because I’m a doormat more often than I’d like to be.”

  Meredith shook her head. “You told a man not too long ago you’d castrate him.”

  Erva giggled. “Yeah, I’m fine with men. With women...I haven’t had a single female friend in my life, except now I have Fleur and you. I’ve tried over the years to make a girl friend, because I’ve longed for something just like this, like what we have at this moment. I want to talk about Will with someone. I want to bounce ideas off a woman to help me understand him and myself. I have had a best friend for years, my friend Ben. But he’s a guy. And he’s a guy’s guy now with all the working out he does and sports. In high school, he was too skinny and got picked on. But now he’s this super jock, and...God, I’m getting off track. I sound like my mother, running with a tangent in the conversation until I don’t know what I’m talking about.”

  Meredith leaned over in the boxcar, noticing how it no longer felt too big, and gave her friend’s knee a squeeze. “I think your tangents are perfectly fine. I like knowing more about you. And I’m thrilled you consider me your friend. I want to know more about you and Will. I want to be a good friend to you.”

  “And I want to be a good friend to you too.” Erva gave Meredith’s hand a light squeeze of her own.

  Then Meredith settled back into her seat, Coyote complaining a bit in the process. “And I’ll be a good friend to you, my puppy. Yes, I will.” She petted down the dog’s back and kissed him on the top of his head. He curled tighter into her, took a giant sigh, then closed his eyes.

  “Anyway,” Erva said as she watched the black scenery pass by, very rarely the dark would be broken by a golden lantern glowing in the distance, “what I wanted to say was I understand what happened between you and David. I’m guessing you became so adjusted to the pattern of push and pull from David, you started to do it with Jake.”

  “Yes. I think that’s what I did.”

  “So, while here on the train, I need to break you from that habit.”

  Meredith smiled. “That habit is broken. I mean, I think I’ll always be scared Jake will leave me, especially once he learns what I did. But he deserves to know the truth about me and make up his mind for himself. He doesn’t deserve me pushing him away just because I’m scared. Once I saw him go and not look back—once I heard his horse gallop away—my heart broke in a completely different way. With David, I was always filled with doubt and uncertainty. With Jake, I wasn’t. I knew I hadn’t given him a chance. And because I’d thrown away that chance, he’s now getting chased by some asshole who probably was the culprit who stalked me. But—”

  “But?”

  Meredith took a deep breath. “I don’t know whether this Bruisner guy was really stalking me or not. He was looking at my shower, I think. Not inside my house. At me. Well, Jake thinks he was looking at me, but—”

  Erva’s eyes narrowed. “You have a shower?”

  Meredith couldn’t help but grin. “I built it myself. It took me months, but I constructed a shower from spare parts and an old boiler I converted into a water heater.”

  Erva leaned over and smacked Meredith’s knee gently. “That’s so cool.”

  Coyote’s tail wagged in his sleep.

  “Thanks,” Meredith whispered. “Jake told me I should patent it.”

  “He sounds sweet and smart.”

  Meredith beamed. “He is.” Then she shared everything she knew about him, which wasn’t much, but she talked about how young he was, how he had been a lawman before but didn’t like to talk about it, how he missed his family, how he was patient and kind, and apparently a good negotiator since the miners seemed to get along now. She didn’t share her thoughts about Jake while he made love to her, staring down at her as if she were beautiful, as if she were a woman to cherish. He would look straight into her eyes as if he didn’t want to bolt from her the second it was over.

  It helped pass the time, all the talking while Coyote slept on her. But when it was well passed midnight, Meredith felt the prickles of her fear return. While Erva got ready for bed, Meredith decided to walk along the train’s hallways to see whether that could help her anxiety-filled restlessness. Of course, Coyote came too, peeing between cars, making Meredith laugh.

  Although it was more than likely closed, since it was so late, Meredith ventured to the dining car, wondering if someone would give Coyote some ribs or a steak. Of course, she realized, she couldn’t show him to anyone in the train, so she did as Erva had and hid him under her skirts. Funny dog, sidling close to her legs, wagging his tail the whole time, surely going to ruin his disguise.

  Surprising her, she gained entrance into the car with only a few waiter’s standing in a corner, and a tall man quietly asking whether the train could go any faster at night, try to get to Butte in record time.

  “Can I help you, ma’am?” one of the older waiters asked with a thick Russian accent.

  Perhaps the intrusion of “ma’am” this late at night startled the other waiters, but it seemed everyone turned and gawked at her, even the man asking about the train’s speed. Then Meredith gasped, recognition flaring through her body, tensing her hands into ready fists.

  “You,” she spat at Bruisner, dressed in only his black trousers and white shirt, cuffs rolled up.

  Instantly, he rubbed along his left cheek where she had slapped him, his eyes narrowed. But he smiled. Oh, that sickening grin made her knees weaken.

  “Is this man a bother to you, ma’am?” the Russian waiter asked, beginning to stand between her and Bruisner.

  But Meredith lunged to the side. After seeing Bruisner here, measuring his height and the muscles under his shirt, his basic shape, she realized the man on her porch had to be him. Pointing a shaky finger at her stalker, she asked,
“Why were you on my porch?”

  The Russian waiter, God bless him, tried again to angle himself between her and Bruisner. “Explain yourself, sir,” he said.

  Bruisner’s dark gaze shifted from Meredith to the waiter. Then he sneered. “I’m not going to explain myself to an immigrant like you.”

  Meredith began to slowly walk closer, anger fueling her every step. “You ass.”

  “You’ve established that, dear,” Bruisner said quickly, making Meredith falter in her steps. His sinister grin altered and warmed suddenly. “I worried I might never see you again, tiny firecracker that you are.”

  “Worried?”

  “Ah, yes.” He slowly pursued her, his eyes glinting while he gazed down her body, which she wished so much to cover with a shawl, anything, to keep him from looking at her like that. His eyes focused on her breasts. “It isn’t every day a man meets a woman like you, so spirited, such a challenge. You remind me of those wild broncos the ranchers are always bragging about breaking. With a calm, steady hand, anything can be broken, they say.”

  “Shut your mouth, mister,” the Russian waiter puffed his thin chest. With a flick of his finger the other waiters shifted forward. “You don’t speak to a lady like that.”

  Bruisner laughed. “What on earth did I say? I’m merely talking horses, something of which seems to fascinate folks in these parts for endless hours. Her, on the other hand” —he pointed toward Meredith— “she is one of very few people in this God-forsaken land who can talk about something other than cattle.” He aimed his menacing smile toward Meredith then. “I had to talk to you more after our ever so brief introductions. Maybe teach you a lesson or two.”

  “Leave this car,” the Russian waiter demanded.

  “It was you on my porch.” Meredith hated how her voice didn’t sound nearly as strong as she wished it would. It wavered slightly, and as angry as she was, she also realized how scared she’d become. Although Bruisner was clever, she saw through his speech for what it was. He was threatening her, threatening to break her spirit with whatever means he deemed. The fire-hot anger pounding through her veins was doused by icy-cold fear.

  Bruisner glanced at the circling waiters. There were six of them, and only one of him. He nonchalantly shrugged. “Fine. I’ll leave. I just wanted to have a chat with” —he cleared his throat while he rolled his eyes— “the lady.” He walked closer to Meredith. The waiters all startled, some protectively lunging forward. Bruisner stopped and held his hands up. “Oh, for goodness sake. I wish no harm to the woman.” He continued to walk closer to Meredith, and she realized she was standing close to the only exit, the way back to the first-class cars. She tried to stand ramrod straight as she slowly crept farther away from him.

  Bruisner sidestepped around Meredith cautiously, his hands still in air. “See, I wish her no harm.” He glanced down at her, only a couple feet away, the Russian waiter trying again to shield her from the ass. Bruisner grinned widely. “I’d never want to harm a woman such as she, for she is a rare treasure here in this barbaric, backwater land—educated and intelligent, however misguided her heart is. Tell me, I understand that a woman such as you might require more...how do I say it?...capital, but how much is the going rate? I’m sure I could afford you.”

  The whore innuendo was crystal clear not only to Meredith, but all the waiters as they jumped into action. In the midst of the waiters protesting and racing forward, before anyone could get to Bruisner, Coyote rumbled a growl that shook the car and leapt onto Bruisner. Meredith stood frozen for a moment, shocked as she watched the canine take down the large man and snapped at his face, Bruisner wrestling with wide terrified eyes. Then she saw a flash of something metal. A high-pitched yip exploded into her ears. Vibrant red blood gushed between Bruisner and Coyote.

  Bruisner bounced to his feet and ran from the car, while Meredith swooped down to her protector, bloody Coyote with a giant knife still stuck in his abdomen.

  “No, no, no,” she cried.

  “What a good, loyal dog you have, miss.” Meredith vaguely heard the Russian waiter say. She couldn’t concentrate on anyone else though, her focus on her puppy.

  “What were you thinking, sweet doggie?” she asked as she carefully swept her hands through his soft fur. The knife was lodged in Coyote all the way to the hilt. She’d taken enough emergency training to know better than to pull out the dagger.

  “Please...I need a cloth, napkins...please,” she begged as Coyote whimpered, but when she lowered her face close to his, he licked her cheek.

  Tears easily flowed at the sweet gesture. She smiled at the dog, so brave, so hurt. Oh, God. He was going to die. Maybe...maybe Erva knew more emergency training than she did. Her husband was a doctor, who had been a general, and more than likely had dealt with stab wounds.

  Someone handed her a clean white dishrag, and she thanked whoever it was, then she wrapped the cloth gently around the knife. Coyote whimpered only once, but again licked her face immediately after.

  “I’m going to carry you, baby. This will hurt.” In a blur she picked up her precious cargo, then hurried through the car to the next and the next. The waiters helped her, but everything became hazy while she stared at Coyote’s breathing. It began to get shaky.

  Once she was back in the small chamber she shared with Erva, the waiters seemed to disappear, Erva scurrying forward when the gaslights were turned on.

  “Oh my God! What happened?”

  Chapter 14

  Meredith didn’t know how to explain. Out of her mouth came gibberish phrases. “Bruisner—here. Coyote defended me.”

  “Oh my God.” Erva gently took hold of the dog and cradled him in her lap. “What were you thinking?” she said to Coyote. “Are you all right? Are you going to be okay?”

  As Erva inspected the injury, Meredith felt her body boil over.

  What a sweet, lovely dog, she repetitively thought.

  She couldn’t watch him die without doing something. Erva kept talking to Coyote, as if the dog could talk back. And something in Meredith snapped. She couldn’t stand here, blood all over her skirt and blouse, and watch Coyote die.

  Default is a blurry state of being, and when it took over Meredith, the word itself she thought of: default. Default. She moved without thought. She couldn’t hear much, other than the rush of her emotions—guilt, anger, passion. Rage. She’d vaguely remembered Erva stashing a pistol into the storage space. Then she held it in her hand and was standing out in the hallway.

  Running through the first-class cars was easy enough. No one was there to stop her, ask her what she was doing. But where was Bruisner? Surely, he had to be somewhere in first-class. His clothes were of the finest stuff available, as if compensating for...then Meredith realized, he probably was compensating for not being paid enough, not being able to afford first-class. She turned and charged the direction of the other passenger cars. But she saw him before she’d left the last of the sleepers.

  He’d kept the door open to the platform he stood on at the end of the car. With shaking hands, he lit what looked like a hand-made cigarette with a match, then flicked the match out into the country, the wild country of Montana.

  He’d threatened to break her, he basically called her a whore, then he’d sunk his knife into such a sweet dog. Black rage tore through her limbs, calling for her to move slowly, quietly, making sure he didn’t hear her. The wind the train culminated or perhaps from the plains of the prairie swept through Bruisner’s thickly pomaded black hair, ruffling it like wet chicken’s feathers. The breeze crept into the hallway Meredith resided. It tried to tickle her, caress her hair away from her face, tried to give her some kind of clarity. But all she thought about was how a dog had defended her, someone had finally cared enough to defend her—Jake, Erva, then an adorable scruffy dog that looked so much like a real coyote. She owed him something. She owed everyone who had dared to care for her something.

  Bruisner took a long inhalation, exhaling a gigantic puff of gray-wh
ite smoke. He reached for the cigarette when he straightened and finally turned more her direction. His eyes widened when he saw her, but then he shook his head in a grimace.

  “I’m sorry,” he said around the coffin nail. Then he pulled the cigarette out, reaching both hands forward, palms up as if begging. “I wasn’t thinking. I—he was going to kill me. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your dog.”

  She kept approaching, almost amazed he was saying so much, apologizing even.

  “I—I—I thought it was a game,” he said, rambling in his speech. “It was a game. I liked you. You hit me. I insult you. Then...then I hoped you’d see the attention for what it was. I like you. I find you attractive. I don’t agree with your liberal beliefs, but I like you, despite myself.”

  As much as she reviled his excuses, it was then the realization dawned. She’d acted like this before. She hadn’t ever done anything with a pistol previously, but she’d been so uncaring about Erva and that damned article she’d plagiarized. It was difficult to express that level of thoughtlessness. She’d been in such a desperate haze. And she’d taken credit for the wonderful work before she had considered what the hell she was doing. God. She was doing it again, becoming so desperate, everything just a blur.

  Slowly, she glanced down at the gun no longer concealed by her skirts.

  “Jesus.” Apparently, Bruisner had seen the pistol too. He ducked to the side where Meredith couldn’t see him any more.

  She rushed out to the platform and looked up the side ladder. Bruisner was climbing, then looked down.

  “Jesus, you’re going to kill me over a dog?” He scrambled up and over the top of the car.

  “No,” she yelled. Then she felt like an idiot for what she’d just done. Granted, she thought he had been the perpetrator on her porch that night, but he hadn’t ever hurt her. Okay, he’d said some freaking slimy things to her and had tried to kill Coyote, but did that merit getting shot?