When to Call a Cowboy

by June Faver

  She raised her head slowly, giving off a cool vibe. “I can put this away, and you can make your own PB and J. Your choice.”

  “No, I want some of that.” He pointed at the pot on the range. “I just wanted to know what to call it.”

  “George,” she said. “It’s called George.”

  Beau laughed, shaking his head. “C’mon. Give me a hint.”

  “It’s chicken.”

  “Mmm…good to know. Dish me up some of that…uh, chicken stuff.”

  “You are cruisin’ for a bruisin’, Beauregard Garrett.” She glopped some of the contents of the pot onto a plate and stuck it in the microwave. When it was heated, she placed it on the table in front of Beau. “Sweet tea?”

  “Sure. Hey, this smells great.” He picked up a spoon and scooped some into his mouth. “It tastes great. Are those mushrooms?”

  Dixie rolled her eyes. “My favorite fungus. Just eat and don’t piss me off any more than I am.”

  “Aw, don’t be mad at me. I’ve been busy all day.”

  She leaned back against the countertop, folding her arms across her chest. “I noticed. Did your daddy have you dancing to his tune?”

  He looked up at her, the blue eyes intense as a double dose of laser beams. “No, Dixie. I went to the feed store to help Pete. He mentioned that he’d told you about his cousin Josh paying him a visit. But you didn’t happen to mention it to me. What’s up with that?”

  “Oh.” She gnawed her lower lip. “Well, I didn’t know it was important.”

  He made a snorting sound. “As if.”

  “Okay, I didn’t want to upset you.”

  “Keep going. I’m sure you’re going to hit the truth eventually.” He scooped another bite of the chicken into his mouth. “George is really good.”

  Dixie felt her color rise. At that moment, she regretted the tendency to blush, a side effect of her red hair. “I was hoping to meet with Josh in case he could tell me something about the person who shot Scott…and maybe my father.”

  Beau gave her a knowing look, waving his spoon at her. “I figured it was something like that.” He shook his head, looking very disapproving. “I’m disappointed to say the least. I thought you understood that I’m trying to keep you and Ava safe.”

  Dixie clenched her hands together, interlacing her fingers. She tried to keep her voice level. “I know that. I’m just trying to do my part.”

  “Your part is to take good care of Ava and stay the hell away from the feed store. I went to the sheriff’s office to alert them that Josh was roaming around the area and that he was in contact with his cousin.”

  “You did what?” She gripped her hands together tighter.

  “I brought the sheriff’s office in on this. Leave it to the professionals.”

  Dixie swallowed hard. She was outraged, but strangely, she could see his point of view. She was offended that he’d ordered her to stay away from her own store and that he thought it was her place to be safe at home, caring for Ava. She realized her fingers had turned white with the grip she had on them and relaxed them slightly. “I see. Well, I guess I have no choice but to stay home and take care of Ava.”

  He grinned and raised his glass of iced tea in a salute. “That’s my girl.”

  Simmer…slow simmer. She tilted her head to one side and gazed at him sweetly. “Don’t you worry that I could smother you in your sleep?”

  He let out a derisive snort. “Not likely. When I get done with you, you’ll be way too tired.”

  Chapter 16

  Beau took a steamy shower after he finished eating, but Dixie made it even steamier when she stepped in with him.

  He stared at her, wondering how one woman could be so beautiful.

  Her fiery-red curls were piled on top of her head and held with a couple of clips. The warm water brought a pinkish glow to her skin. Her eyes were shining, and her lips were slightly open…an invitation to a kiss.

  “Hey, did you want to scrub my back?” He handed her the soap and his washcloth.

  “Sure, I can do that,” she said. “Or I can scrub your front.” She lathered the soap with both hands and rubbed suds over her breasts and stomach.

  Pure lust roiled through his entire being. “Dixie,” he breathed. He leaned down to kiss her lips and lifted her against him.

  Her warm, soapy breasts melded against his chest, imprinting on him like a hot branding iron. She writhed against him, sending currents of heat to his already-attentive erection.

  Dixie wrapped her arms around his neck, lifting herself higher against him.

  “You’re killing me here,” he murmured.

  She issued a smug grunt to go along with her smile. Her long, soapy legs wrapped around his torso with torturous deliberation.

  He pressed her against the wall, kissing her and letting his hands explore her body. Gazing into her eyes, he stroked her thigh and pressed his hardness between her legs.

  She sighed, just the tiniest whimper of pleasure, bringing a grin to Beau’s mouth.

  “I don’t have a condom handy.”

  “I don’t care,” she said. “Give me all you got, cowboy.”

  He chuckled close to her ear. “You can’t take all I got.”

  Her thighs tightened as she rotated her hips, rubbing his already-engorged shaft.

  He swallowed hard. She was demanding he make love to her. What if they created another child? He considered this for half a second before easing inside her. He held her against the shower wall and thrust into her, increasing his rhythm and intensity.

  She grazed his shoulder with her teeth and uttered little mews of ecstasy, grinding herself against him, satisfying herself as she drove him over the edge. She came to orgasm, shuddering as she gripped him with all four of her limbs.

  Beau’s climax came hard and heavy. They clung to each other, gasping for breath. The warm water streamed over his shoulders and down his backside, grounding him to his surroundings.

  Her breath rasped in his ear. “That was—”

  “Yeah, it was.”

  * * *

  Damn! He’s gone again. Dixie lay in the tangle of sheets, naked and languorous in the aftermath of the previous night’s great sex. She heaved out a deep sigh, smoothed the sheets on both sides of her, and pulled the covers up to her chin, figuring that if she had been awake earlier, she might have participated in yet another incredible sexual marathon event.

  In truth, she was glad Beau didn’t awaken her at the god-awful early morning hour that he routinely awoke, but she would have liked to wake up to a repeat performance of his very enthusiastic lovemaking from the night before. A performance that etched a permanent impression on her psyche. She couldn’t repress the giggle that bubbled out.

  Although Beau made certain she had no unfilled needs and was thoroughly sated during their nightly encounters, somehow she always woke up with an aching need for more. Get back here, boy! You got work to do.

  Dixie was pretty certain she would have no trouble getting his immediate attention, but he would have to be there with her, his muscular and athletic form available as her playground.

  She huffed and turned on her side. The sun was barely up. Now a long day of basically alone time yawned before her, since she had been forbidden to go to the store. She threw back the covers and groped around for her robe. She tucked her cell phone in the pocket should Beau find time in his busy schedule to give her a call.

  Padding barefoot to the kitchen, she found that Beau had made coffee, so she could forgive him for his early departure. Indeed, he was thinking about some of her basic needs. Pouring a cup, she went around opening drapes and blinds to let the burgeoning sunlight enter her domain.

  Grabbing her laptop, she opened the back door, stepped out onto the covered porch, and inhaled deeply. Nothing like that good old fresh country air. She reflected
that, were they still in Dallas, the air would carry traffic sounds and the aroma of emissions from said traffic and various manufacturing enterprises. No, living at the ranch is definitely a healthier choice.

  Dixie sank onto one of the chairs and took another sip of coffee before opening her laptop and logging into her business site. She took care of the orders received the previous day and forwarded them to the various wholesalers and then leaned back to gaze out at the beautiful countryside. There were a few shade trees, a couple of pecans, and an oak. But most of her “backyard” was lush green grass that hadn’t been mowed in a while with a scattering of bluebonnets and some tiny yellow daisy-like flowers. The grasses sparkled with dew in the early-morning light. Altogether a pleasing picture.

  Her reverie was broken by her mother’s ringtone. She raised her head and set the coffee cup on a small table. Might as well get the battle on now. She sighed and answered the call. “Hello, Mother.”

  “Oh, thank God! Dixie, where have you been? I’ve been so worried about you. Are you all right? Did that dreadful Garrett boy do something to you?”

  “As a matter of fact, he did,” Dixie said. “I know the truth now. I know how you lied to me, and I never, ever want to speak to you again. Please don’t call me.”

  Abruptly, she disconnected and shoved the cell back in the pocket of her robe. “That’s one thing off my list. Divorce lying mother.” She drew a line in the air as though drawing a line through an item on her imaginary list.

  * * *

  Big Jim, along with Colton and Tyler, had just finished cleaning out the stables and giving his thoroughbreds a good brush down and their feed. He wanted to go for a ride later, but he thought maybe he would wait until after school, when he could bring his sweetie, Celia Diaz, over for dinner and a nice ride. To his mind, that would be the perfect way to end the day.

  He was headed to the house for a good washup and another cup of coffee when his cell sounded. He fished it out of his shirt pocket and answered with his usual gruff tone. “Garrett.”

  “Um, Big Jim? This is Ed Rollins.”

  “Howdy, Sheriff. What can I do for you today?”

  “I got a call from Miz Dyer, the social worker, about you taking them little Mexican girls home to their mama and papa. I told her you and your family was the best people on earth and that she could trust you with the girls.”

  Big Jim made a sound between a growl and a snort. “Thanks for the reference, Sheriff. We’ll be taking them down to Matamoros tomorrow.”

  “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

  Big Jim motioned for his sons to go on to the house, and he climbed up on the corral fence to get comfortable. It appeared the sheriff had a lot on his mind. “Go ahead, Sheriff. I’m listening.”

  “I got a call from the Amarillo office of Immigration and Customs Enforcement. Them are the guys who took charge of that little Valentina. I sent her tiny handbag over to them guys. They did something to her phone and checked all her messages and phone numbers. It seems she and her boyfriend, some creepy dude, were all about running a few girls from Mexico so they could be sold like slaves. They were part of some kind of network. Don’t that beat all?”

  “Yes, it does.” Big Jim could feel his jaw tense up and consciously worked it. “But how did they end up in the Moore storage shed?”

  The sheriff chuckled. “Here’s where it gets interesting. Apparently, that was the handoff point. They would take young girls, who was scared half outta their wits, an’ this Valentina girl would pretend to be helping them. She would hide with the girls up in the shed. Then they would be picked up to take them to wherever they was to be delivered. Ain’t that the craziest deal you ever heard?”

  “Crazy doesn’t begin to cover it,” Big Jim said. “So, how did this Valentina and her charges stay in the loft without someone finding out? I mean, the feed store is a business, and there were a lot of people going back there to get feed and stuff. How did they not get caught?”

  There was a momentary silence. “Looky here, Big Jim. I don’t want to burst your bubble, ’cause I know you and Vern Moore was good friends, but the big boys are saying there must have been collusion. Vern probably knew all about it and was gettin’ a cut of the money.”

  “No!” Big Jim thundered. “Vern Moore was one of the most honest men I’ve ever known. He would never stand for something like that going on at his place of business. He would have gone straight to you if he even thought there was something illegal going on at his store.”

  “But I—” the sheriff began.

  “No! Don’t even go spreading that around, Sheriff, because you would be besmirching a good man’s name.”

  “Um—sure, Big Jim. I won’t say a word.” The sheriff’s voice was barely above a whisper.

  “There has to be some other explanation,” Big Jim said. “I will never believe that Vernon Moore was involved.”

  “Yes, sir. I believe you. I just wanted you to know what was being said.” He paused. “But don’t you worry. I’m sure there’s some other reason the feed store was the handoff point for them white slavers.”

  “Vern would never deal with human traffickers.” Big Jim disconnected and shoved the phone back into his pocket, thinking that Vern’s integrity was probably what had gotten him killed.

  Maybe this was not the day to go for a ride with Celia Diaz. Maybe he needed to check out the feed store again. Maybe he needed to pick up old Pete by the ears and give him a shake to find out what he knew about the illegal activities rolling out right under his nose. If anyone knew what was going on, it had to be Pete Miller.

  * * *

  Dixie and Ava were headed to the stables.

  “But, Mommy, why do we have to clean up after the horsies every day?”

  Yeah, why? Dixie ruffled her daughter’s disorderly halo of light-orange tendrils. “Because those horsies are a messy lot. They expect us to make sure they have a clean house.”

  Ava’s lower lip jutted out. “But it stinks in there.”

  “That’s why we have to clean it.” Resolutely, Dixie opened the stable door. Indeed, the pungent aroma of horse manure assailed her senses. She opened the door wide to let the place air out a bit before subjecting her daughter to it.

  She recalled performing this task with her father many times but didn’t think the smell had been so pungent. “It’s okay, honey. We’re big girls. We can do this.”

  “But why?” Ava persisted.

  Why, indeed? Dixie made an elaborate bowing motion to indicate to her recalcitrant daughter that she was to go inside. Lip still jutting, Ava stepped over the doorjamb.

  Dixie followed Ava into the stable, leaving the door open for ventilation. “Because…we are strong women and we do not need to wait for some man to do it for us.” She almost stumbled as her own words slapped her in the face. Hmm…

  She began her task, mulling over her options. She replayed her conversation with Beau the night before. The conversation where he basically told her to step back and not get involved with looking into her father’s murder. Several possibilities presented themselves. One thing she was sure of. She wanted to talk to Josh herself and not hear about it thirdhand from the moronic sheriff as filtered through her beloved and protective Beau.

  Ava was propelling a push broom across the floor, while Dixie shoveled out the stalls. It was hard work, and it was dirty work. Was it man’s work?

  She huffed out an impatient snort. The entire male Garrett tribe did this and more on a daily basis. It was in their genetic code by now. Big Jim had raised his sons to work. But what if he’d had daughters?

  Nah! Big Jim was one of those men who thought the “little woman” should take care of the house and do tasks like cooking and laundry. Her general irritation was fueling her actions with unexpected energy. In no time at all she had shoveled horse manure and befouled straw into the whee
lbarrow.

  Her mother’s ringtone sounded, but Dixie didn’t respond.

  “Is that Gramma?” Ava sang out. “I wanna talk to my Gramma.” She came to stand in the open doorway of the last stall Dixie was cleaning.

  “Grandma can leave a message. I’m too busy to chat right now.”

  “But—”

  “Enough!” She realized her voice was too harsh. “I’m sorry, honey. I just want to get this done and then get cleaned up.” She turned to gaze into her daughter’s big blue eyes…Garrett eyes.

  Dixie straightened her shoulders. “C’mon and show me where this compost heap is.” She picked up the handles to the wheelbarrow and rolled it in the direction Ava was heading. She knew full well where the compost heap was…the same place her father had designated so many years ago. It was located far enough away and downwind from the house. Good plan, Dad. Her next task was to scoop the contents out of the wheelbarrow and onto the pile. She was pretty sure the pile needed to be turned and that the material on the bottom had broken down into some pretty rich compost by now.

  But not today.

  Her lower back was aching, and her shoulders were complaining as well. Maybe a hot shower and a couple of Tylenol would fix her right up.

  After Dixie had fed the horses and returned them to their stalls, she was having delusions about that shower, but as they retraced their steps to the house, her cell sounded again. It was Roger’s ringtone.

  She hated to touch the phone with her filthy hands. True, she had worn work gloves, but she could feel germs multiplying on her skin. Gingerly, she fished the phone out of her pocket with two fingers and accepted the call. “Hey, Roger. How’s it going?”

  “It’s going very well indeed. Poor dear Scott is doing better. The doctor has had him in a medically induced coma to help him heal, but they’re bringing him out of it slowly. He should be awake later tonight. Isn’t that fabulous?”

  Dixie grinned. “That is fabulous. I’m so glad.”

  Roger went on for a while, his enthusiasm spilling over. By the time he had hung up, he had gotten to speak with a delighted Ava and secured a promise from Dixie to visit the next day.