Gambling On a Heart

by Sara Walter Ellwood

  Sam tapped both men on the shoulder with the baton. “Now get the hell out of here.”

  “Hey, we paid good money to hear Cartwright sing,” a cowboy shouted from somewhere within the crowd.

  With shotgun still in hand, but now safely pointed toward the ceiling, Sam’s sister turned around. “Too damn bad. I’ll give y’all a beer on the house and call us even. He only had another half-hour anyways.”

  “None of that cheap swill either,” someone else called.

  “Y’all will take what you get or leave it,” Julie replied and turned back to Tracy. She shook her head. “Damn, woman, your love life’s more excitin’ than those soap operas I watch. I don’t care which one of these stallions you leave with, but get one of ’em the hell out of here.”

  Tracy turned and headed for the door. She wasn’t leaving with either one of them. The one she wanted had already left. She fished her cell phone out of her purse to call Mary Estrada and ask her to come to take her home. When the doors swung open, she turned to Logan sucking on a cut on his bruised knuckles.

  “Let me get you home, and then I’ll go talk some sense into that moron I call brother.” Not waiting for her response, Logan took her by the elbow and led her to his car in the back of the parking lot. He helped her inside the BMW Roadster and got in behind the wheel of the sports car.

  “What about the band? Your equipment?”

  “The band will take care of it.” He clipped his seatbelt. “You haven’t told Zack anything, have you?”

  She looked over at him as he started the engine. “I’m not begging him to forgive me, Logan. Either he can figure out on his own I’m not the person he seems to think I am, or he can go straight to hell.”

  Logan backed out of the space. “Y’all are two of the biggest pigheaded idiots I’ve ever known. You love him, and he’s got it so bad for you that he goes up in flames every time you’re around.”

  “Yeah, but sex isn’t love.” She wrapped her arms around herself in a tight hug.

  “That’s not what I meant.” He pulled out onto the street and headed southwest out of town. “He loves you, Tracy.”

  She looked up at him and hated the hope his gruff voice sparked to life in her bruised and battered heart. Then she remembered Zack’s words from when they entered into this charade. “He still loves Lisa. All he wants from me is sex. He told me as much. I was foolish to agree, but told him we had to act like we were in a relationship.” She looked at her lap in the dark interior of the car, glad that the dim light from the dashboard wasn’t bright enough for him to see her tears. Not that Logan hadn’t seen them before. “I was foolish to believe I could make him love me again. That he’d forgive me because he loved me.”

  She bit her lip so hard she tasted blood. Despite her efforts to keep it inside, a sob broke loose from the depths of her being.

  “Oh, T.C.” He reached over and laid his injured hand on her shoulder. She gently took it from her shoulder and held it in her lap. He let her cry as the miles between town and the turnoff for Oak Springs flew by her window.

  He turned onto Oak Springs Road and glanced at her. “Tell Zack what happened, Tracy. Then ask him about Lisa.”

  “What about Lisa?” She used the handkerchief he’d handed her to wipe at her eyes and blew her nose.

  They passed the gate to Butterfly Ranch. Then the one on opposite side of the road, the Broken B Ranch, which was still owned by Buck Blackwell. Risking wrecking his fancy German convertible on the windy road, Logan looked at her, his expression solemn. “Ask him what happened before she died.”

  * * * *

  When Zack got home, he paid Amy Jackson for babysitting and walked her out to the old red Honda she drove. He turned off the movie she’d been watching and checked on Mandy. He stared at his sleeping daughter. How was he going to break the news about him and Tracy breaking up? Hard to believe only that morning he’d been fantasizing about them being a family.

  He hit an open palm against the doorframe and pulled the door closed. Damn it all to hell, he’d known there was no future for him and Tracy from the beginning. Why hadn’t he left well enough alone and stayed away from her?

  The front door opened while he headed toward the kitchen to snag a much-needed beer.

  “You look like shit,” Zack said as Logan moved down the darkened hallway into the light coming from the living room.

  “Yeah, so do you. Someone had to beat the hell out of that son-of-a-bitch.” Logan tossed his Stetson on the kitchen table and faced him. “You couldn’t afford the possible assault charge for police brutality or some other shit, but I could. Besides, I’ve wanted to pound on that bastard for a very long time.”

  “What are you doing here?” Zack opened the refrigerator door and retrieved a bottle of Coors. As he popped the top, he said, “Go back to Tracy.”

  “Tracy’s fine. Or she will be as soon as my big brother gets his head out of his ass and stops trying to come up with reasons to dump her.”

  Zack lowered the bottle and took a step toward Logan. “Get out.”

  Logan spread his hands and smirked. “Dear God almighty, Zack, do you really believe I’m having an affair with Tracy–or that I ever have? It would be like sleeping with our cousin Faith.”

  “Kissin’ cousins isn’t unusual. Not in this town.”

  “I’ll never... This is getting us nowhere.” Logan shoved his left hand through his dark hair. “For the last time, I have no interest in Tracy. She’s like my sister. Now, let’s get to the real problem. You think if you admit to yourself that you love her and want a future with her, you’ve dishonored Lisa. So you’re looking for any reason to run–even if you know damned well it’s a lie.”

  “I’m not talking about this.” Zack passed Logan and headed into the living room. He pointed down the hall toward the door with the beer bottle. “You know where the door is.”

  “I know what you said when you woke up from the coma in Germany.”

  Zack spun around and stared at Logan as if he was the devil come to life. No one but Lisa had been in the room when he woke up. And Logan and Lisa had never been close; she’d disliked him as much as he had her. She’d been the wedge that had driven the brothers apart. There was a time they’d been close.

  Logan ambled around the room. His boot heels kept time with the ticking of the antique grandfather clock in the corner and sounded as loud as thunder in the silence. He stopped in front of the mantle and picked up the frame holding Lisa’s picture. “I always thought she looked a little like Tracy.” Looking up, he smiled. “In an if-I-was-out-of-it kind of way. Maybe it’s just the long dark hair.” Logan squinted his eyes almost shut and held the photo this way and that in front of him before setting it back on the plank mantel.

  “You were in the room?” Zack sat down on the couch.

  Logan faced him and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans–or at least tried to. He shook his right hand. “Ouch. That bastard has a hard head.”

  Zack nodded toward the swollen and bruised knuckles. “You’ve probably got a boxer’s fracture.”

  “If I do, I’m taking it out of Jake Parker’s sorry hide.” Logan sat in the recliner across from him and leaned over his legs. “Look, you know the whole family was over in Germany those two weeks you were in the coma. Hell, we didn’t know if you’d live or die. I was standing in the doorway when you woke up. I was going in to check on Lisa to make sure she didn’t want anything to drink or eat. I realized while she held vigil over you just how much she truly did love you.” He sighed and sat back in the recliner. “When I opened the door, she was bent over you calling your name, and then I heard you call her Tracy. I knew then you were still in love with her. And to hell with whatever you wanted the rest of the world, and probably yourself as well, to believe.”

  Zack closed his eyes and leaned back into the soft leather of the couch. With his head against the couch, he opened his eyes to look up at the rough-hewn beams and white plaster ceiling. He should
be mad at his brother for making such an assertion, but he couldn’t gather up enough energy.

  “Zack, do yourself a favor and let Lisa rest in peace. She wouldn’t want you punishing yourself over something that wasn’t your fault.”

  He looked at Logan and took a deep breath. “But it was my fault. If we hadn’t been fighting about moving back here… If I hadn’t–”

  “If a rock star’s boyfriend hadn’t dumped her at a bar in Las Vegas during the National Finals Rodeo, a rodeo cowboy from Central Texas wouldn’t’ve met her and neither one of us would be having this conversation,” Logan said, referring to their parents’ first meeting. Zack glared at his brother, who went on, “My point is we can’t control Fate and we sure as hell can’t control the actions of others. You didn’t kill Lisa, Zack. A drunk driver did. Don’t you dare say you’re the reason she was out there, either. Bullshit. She’s the one that left, and she’s the one who got behind the wheel of a car. So unless you held a gun to her head, you are not responsible.”

  Zack stared at him for a moment, then lifted the Coors to his mouth. Before drinking the entire bottle, he muttered, “Shit happens.”

  “Yep.” Logan stood, walked around the coffee table, and patted him on the shoulder with his left hand. “Now, go and tell that woman you forgive her and you love her, and don’t you ever believe a thing Jake Parker says again.”

  As Logan headed toward the kitchen, Zack said, “I can’t leave now. Mandy’s here.”

  Logan turned at the doorway and arched an eyebrow. “Uncle Logan isn’t qualified to babysit? I’ll camp out in one of the spare bedrooms. This damned monster of a house has six of ’em.” Logan looked around the living room. “I’m damned glad I didn’t inherit this place.”

  Zack smiled. “Why’s that?”

  “Because then I’m not the one who has to fill all those bedrooms with little Cartwright brats. I’m never getting married.”

  “Yeah, right.” Zack laughed and stood. “You’ve always been a hopeless romantic. I’ll bet within a year some Nashville starlet snags your heart.” Sobering, he stepped forward and put his hands on Logan’s shoulders. “You know why Tracy did what she did, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, I do. But it’s not my place to explain it to you. Just like it isn’t my place to explain to her your reasons for holding her at a distance. Y’all need to talk this through, and then you can move forward. You and Tracy Quinn belong together. Now, get. I’ll see you in the morning.” He tried to smile, but it looked more like a grimace. His jaw was swollen, so was his eye. “Or whenever. Right now, I’m gonna get a glass of sweet tea, take a half-bottle of aspirin, and get ice on my hand and face.”

  Zack pulled his brother into a hug. “You’re a bonehead most of the time, but I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  Logan stepped back and grunted. “Love you, too, knucklehead.” He pointed to the mudroom door as he went into the kitchen. “Will you go, already? Oh, wait.” He pulled something from the pocket of his jeans. “I stopped by my cabin before coming over here.”

  When Zack noticed what Logan was holding out for him, he gasped.

  “You might need this someday.”

  Zack stared at the three-carat diamond platinum engagement ring. He’d bought it with the money from his rodeo wins and some of his trust fund from his grandfather. He met Logan’s gaze. “I told you to sell it and to keep the money.”

  Logan shrugged as put the ring in Zack’s hand. “I decided not to. I’ve been the keeper of this thing for fourteen years. I think it’s high time the danged thing should go to its rightful owner, don’t you?”

  Chapter 17

  “What are you doin’ here?” Jake asked as he looked up at his brother entering his trailer.

  “Whoa! What happened to you?” Brent asked instead of answering the question.

  Jake tossed the damp washcloth he’d used to wipe the blood off his face onto the counter separating the kitchen and living room. “Logan Cartwright. Now, answer my question.”

  As Jake pulled a beer from the fridge, Brent shuffled his feet. “I got a call from Johnny.”

  Jake straightened and faced his brother and scowled, which hurt like hell. He didn’t want to deal with this crap now. “Why would he call you?”

  “Because he got a call from the owner of the slaughterhouse in Breckenridge. Jake, he called to warn us. The TSCRA raided the place today. They confiscated all their records, and the owner is talking to save his ass.” His voice rose in pitch and became more breathy as he spoke. “He’s told the cops about buying stolen cattle from us, and their faking the brands and paperwork for the inspectors. They’re gonna figure out we’ve been stealing the cattle ’round here!”

  Jake set the unopened beer on the dirty-dish-cluttered counter. “The law can’t know for sure.” His tone didn’t sound any more convincing than he felt. Cartwright and McPherson already suspected him of the crime. And he knew the bitch in Waco would change her story about him being with her last Friday night when Cartwright’s horses were stolen if cornered by the Texas Rangers. She’d already warned Jake his money wasn’t enough to keep her quiet if the cops threatened jail time.

  “What are we gonna do, Jake? I don’t wanna go to jail.”

  With a sharp glance at his brother, he rushed past him. “Well, I for one am not stickin’ around waitin’.”

  “Jake? Where you goin’? Why are you limping?”

  Jake ignored the asshole and headed for the bedroom, cursing not only the situation, but also the sharp pain in his knee. Logan’s kick had probably undid the repaired ligaments. He threw a couple changes of clothes into a duffle bag, then went into Bobby’s room. He grabbed clothes for him and stuffed them into the bag, too.

  “Why are you taking Bobby’s stuff?”

  He turned to Brent standing at the door. “Because we’re headed to Mexico, and I’m taking my boy with me. Now, get the hell out of my way.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Brent moved toward him. “That’s kidnapping on top of everything else.”

  Jake grabbed Brent by the shirtfront. “He’s my boy! I’ll be damned if I’ll leave him here for fuckin’ Cartwright and the bitch to turn against me.”

  He let go of Brent’s shirt and headed for the gun safe in the corner of the living room. After undoing the lock, he grabbed the Colt .45 he’d inherited from his father, a hunting rifle and enough ammunition to shoot his way out of anything.

  After tossing the Remington .300 and a box of ammo to Brent, he loaded the pistol. Brent shifted the rifle in his beefy hands. “Jake, that’s plumb crazy. Let’s just get out of here. We’ll go down to Monterrey where Granny Blackwell’s cousins live. Aunt Colleen, Johnny, and his boy have already skipped town and headed there. Johnny wanted me to go with them, but I had to warn you. I was with them when the call came in from Breckenridge.”

  Jake jammed the pistol into his belt under his shirt behind him. “Bobby’s with Mary Estrada. Tracy and Cartwright were at the Longhorn–”

  Brent whistled between his teeth. “I thought she was screwin’ Zack. So, she’s really seein’ Logan.”

  “No.”

  “But you said Logan beat you up.”

  “I wasn’t beat up by that asshole or anyone else. She was there with Zack. Logan was singin’, and I decided to have some fun with the happy couple. It worked. Zack left her there, but Logan decided to play hero.” He grabbed the duffle bag off the couch. “Let’s get the hell out of here. I’ll drive. So give me the goddamn keys.”

  Outside, Brent climbed into the passenger side of his truck and handed over the keys. “Why don’t we take your truck?”

  “You sure as hell ask a lot of questions. What are you, two years old?” Jake started the engine, but before he put it in gear, he glanced at the garage door of his service shop. “Wait here. I have an idea.”

  Jake punched the code into the opener and ducked in before the big door crawled the whole way upward. He removed the license pla
tes from the old Ford Ranger pickup sitting in the bay and waiting on the part that was supposed to be in on Monday. Once he returned to Brent’s new truck, Jake switched the plates and then quickly put the Silverado’s tags on the Ranger.

  While Jake climbed behind the wheel again, Brent said, “Wow. That’s sure to confuse the law.”

  “Let’s hope long enough for us to get to the border.”

  * * * *

  With his mind filled with questions and doubts, Zack neared the entrance to Oak Springs Ranch. He had no idea what he was going to say to Tracy when he got there, but he hoped she’d let him say something before she slammed the door in his face.

  When his cell phone rang, he let it go to voicemail. Immediately, it rang again, and he knew it had to be someone at the station. He pulled it out and answered it.

  Dawn didn’t bother with a greeting or a smart remark about him not answering the first time. “We need you here ASAP. Jake and Brent Parker, Colleen Stryker, Johnny and Matthew Blackwell have been implicated by a sting operation at a slaughterhouse in Breckenridge.”

  He stopped at the end of Tracy’s driveway. The house couldn’t be seen from here; it sat back another half-mile. He imagined her lying in bed, crying and thinking of him as the biggest jerk in the world.

  Resigned that duty had to come first, he put the truck into reverse and turned around. “Okay. I’ll be there in less than a half-hour.”

  * * * *

  Tracy stared at her friend, not believing what she was hearing. “Jake told you I wanted him to pick up Bobby?”

  “Yeah.” Mary shifted her weight and puckered her brow. “He told me you’d called him. I knew it was his week to have him, so I just figured...” She sat on the couch in her living room.

  Tracy continued to stand in the entrance of the small house a few doors down the street from her beauty salon. She and Mary Estrada had been friends since Tracy moved to Colton. Their sons had been friends since they were toddlers.