A Cowboy To Keep: A Contemporary Western Romance Collection

by Hebby Roman

  K.C. stood and faced him, anger flaring in her eyes. “Don’t you put this on me! Don’t you blame me for your problems!”

  “What? How am I blaming you for my problems? Geesh, K.C., I admit I haven’t been happy here but we both agreed it was the best solution to our being together. When I met up with you at the airport that day, I had sorted things out in my mind and told you what I thought was possible, and you absolutely agreed. You were ecstatic! And I went ahead and did it, did everything possible so we could be together. Had Breezy get in Jarrod to redecorate the ranch house, advertise it for rental, she’s done everything for me so I could be here with you.”

  “Am I supposed to be thankful now?”

  “What?”

  “You make it sound as if I’m supposed to be thankful for everything you did, that you gave up so much for me and I’ve done nothing.”

  “I didn’t say that at all! I did it for us—for us, K.C. But yes, I am unhappy here and yes, I do want to return to Wyoming. But I want to return with you.”

  K.C. turned her back and walked to the window.

  Chay glanced outside as snow started to fall in soft feathers of white. He knew if he could catch one flake he would see the most intricate design of nature, the most beautiful artwork in the natural world, a perfect crystal of iced water, equal on all sides, but he also knew it wouldn’t last more than the flicker of an eye. Maybe love was like that—beautiful while it lasted, but it vanished in the blink of an eye.

  “But you know I can’t return yet, Chay. You know I have a two year course.”

  “The second year is a thesis. You said American expansion after the Louisiana Purchase. You could write that in Wyoming if you really wanted.”

  “And fly to the library for research?”

  “There are libraries in Wyoming, K.C. And there’s inter-library loan.”

  “It doesn’t work that way.”

  “What doesn’t?”

  She flipped around to confront him. “Inter-library loan. It doesn’t work for my research. It takes weeks to get anything, sometimes months.”

  “Well, I’m sure—”

  “Please don’t say you’re sure I could do it if I really wanted. Because you don’t know anything about it.”

  So that was it, Chay thought. That was what she thought of him. He didn’t know anything about college, about her research, her life. He reached down and picked up his coat, hat, and gloves dropped earlier on the floor and started to hang them up in the closet, thinking all the time about what he wanted to do. He could feel her stare burning into his back as he swung around to challenge her. “Okay. Yes. I’m tired of fighting crowds, sick of dealing with spoilt customers who think the pig swill they’re eating is divine and I owe them the world for sitting at my table. I’m sick of traveling in filthy, dirty subways instead of being out in the open on my horse, and I’m sick of coming home to a housemate—Daphne—who hates my guts, instead of good friends who welcome me. I’m fed up with being something your parents just about suffer to have over to their apartment, someone they look down their noses at as not being good enough for you, someone who leads the kind of life they don’t approve of, because I’ll never earn enough money to give you the things you’re used to. Oh, and money—what about the cost of things here? We never have enough money to do anything that might bring us some small measure of enjoyment—going to the movies, or having a few drinks in a bar with friends, or even buying a cup of coffee and sitting on a park bench to enjoy it. I feel guilty every time I buy a dang cup of coffee. And finally, I’m sick of us arguing all the time, of seeing your sorrow knowing I’m not happy, and knowing you can’t make me happy, always trying to ensure things are right between us when they obviously aren’t. And I’m sick, really sick, of trying my damnedest, K.C., to pretend things will be wonderful in the near future but we’re just having a bad day, week, year, and when we get back to Wyoming everything will be wonderful because Lord knows, maybe things won’t be. And I wonder if we have what it takes to deal with all this? Do we love each other enough to make this right?”

  The silence that filled the room was like a blanket of snow, a winter white-out with its inherent chill in the small space where they stood, where time stood still and the world stopped turning. Chay’s head was buzzing with the quiet, and a kind of weakness overcame him, and his vision seemed to dance. Inside he felt sore, the proverbial broken heart that made him feel like he was bleeding.

  “You shouldn’t wait for Christmas.” K.C.’s voice was calm, steady, a breeze that scarcely stirred a leaf. “You should go now.”

  Chapter Eight

  Eighteen months later, June

  The phone calls had stopped some time back, but a few days ago there had been more. Of course, it could have been a wrong number that hung up when they heard his voice, or a robocall that didn’t come through; the screen always said ‘private caller.’ But Chay believed it was K.C. It was almost as if he recognized her silence.

  When the calls had first begun, a short time after he got back to Wyoming, living in the bunkhouse at the Lazy S because his place was still rented, he could on occasion hear a little whimper, knew she was crying. He would speak her name, say something, ask her why she was phoning when she had been the one to send him away. But there was never any answer—she never spoke. In time, he got fed up with it, saw it as her immaturity, and maybe later she outgrew the need to hear his voice. The calls petered out and finally stopped. And in some strange way he had missed them, missed knowing she was there—and she still wanted him.

  Maybe she had been going out with someone else for a while. That was always a possibility and he would like to think he didn’t care, but he knew he did. He always hoped some way, some day they would get back together. But a year had passed with no further word, no calls, and he got on with his life. And believed he had stopped missing her. Wanting her.

  He had told the Bantries he had no money for lawyers so they would have to battle on alone with theirs, but he would do anything else he could. And he had promised them to honor the lease for the remaining year and consider it thereafter, though he knew it was time to begin the future he had envisioned, put the money he had saved into stock for the ranch, however few, and start building up his herd. Jarrod had been good to deal with as well, though Chay had insisted on paying him off for the work on the main house. And Bob Hastings had hired him back on at the Lazy S until he could take possession of his home.

  But now, once again, there had been silence on the other end of the phone. He wondered if she believed he didn’t know it was her. The calls were briefer than they used to be, too. He answered, he said ‘hello’ a few times, and then shortly after he heard the beeps. There were no longer any whimpers, it was more as if she were wondering if she could find the words and didn’t, and so hung up.

  And now, Chay yearned to hear her voice, spoke into the silence on the phone, told her he missed her and wished she would say something. He held a one-sided conversation to tell her how he was doing, the D.O.T. had won but he was glad to have the money for the small parcel of land, and it wasn’t going to have that much impact on his property, although it was upsetting. And he informed her the Bantries were thinking of selling and he wished he had the money to buy them out.

  She never responded. He always interpreted the end of call beeps on his phone as her having lost her nerve to speak to him.

  * * *

  K.C. had the window seat on the flight up from Denver and peered out at the undulating mountain peaks, the topography of a landscape she always saw as the most striking she had ever encountered. The plane tilted and leveled, fought the downdrafts between the mountains, and steadied again. She could not suppress the excitement she felt—like coming home. There was an ease to her soul that came over her, a release of her tension, almost a joy at coming back to where she felt she belonged—no matter what lay ahead. Yes, she had no doubt she belonged here. And as for Chay—for better or worse, that would sort itself out. She kn
ew she was acting like some teen with a crush to keep phoning him and never saying anything, but as soon as she heard his voice, she froze. She luxuriated in just listening to him, the news he shared, the melody of his tenor, envisaging the outlines of his face, the sea-green eyes, the dimple that always made her smile, and his caress and love.

  Yes. She knew she should just be ‘grown up’ about it, phone him and tell him she was coming back and they should meet, discuss what had happened, but fear of his rejection played a part; if he brushed her off, she’d be starting her life in Wyoming with negative feelings. It had come down to this: there would be a confrontation at some stage, and whenever it occurred, it would be now or never. Either it would right itself, or it would end once and for all.

  Forever was going to be forever.

  But flying up from Denver, she was sure she had come ‘home’—this was where she belonged, with whomever she spent forever.

  * * *

  Breezy’s smile stretched the lines of her face into a landscape of happiness. There may have been a few more wrinkles on the old woman, but she was as welcoming as ever, as buoyant as before, and still talking a blue streak. As the pickup bounced and jolted its way up the familiar dirt road toward the Lazy S, K.C. was filled in on the latest news of just about everyone—everyone, that is, except Chay. She didn’t expect Breezy to be anything more than circumspect about Chay in talking about the ranch people; K.C. knew full well Breezy had, in all likelihood, been told about the break-up by the man himself. If she knew anything more, she wasn’t spilling the beans.

  “Oh, Bob’s new lady friend. We don’t see much of her but I understand there’s trouble between her and Bob’s son who lives over in Idaho—guess it’s that step-parent type of thing, not that I’m much of an expert. You know, kids seeing the replacement as a threat, or maybe taking their inheritance. Something like that.”

  “I never even knew Bob had been divorced—”

  “Widower. Lost his first wife to cancer quite some years back now, terrible thing. We all loved her. Great mother, too. Right before Bobby—that’s Bob’s son—went off to State. Let me see, Bobby’s married now with a one-year-old so must be eight or nine years back.”

  “Do you hear from Dakota at all?”

  “Oh, golly, yes. She wrote an email a few months back; been meaning to answer but, you know, been so dang busy, first with the…the ranch, and then….” Breezy’s words wound down as she tried to avoid mentioning Chay and his ranch. She seemed to be pretending to concentrate on her driving. “Well, anyway,” she took up again. “I haven’t got round to answering. But she was well, back in university—I may be wrong. Memory’s not so great these days.”

  “That’s hard to believe, Breezy. You always seem so on top of things.”

  Breezy gave K.C. a quick sideways glance and then switched back to the road ahead.

  Whatever was going through Breezy’s mind, K.C. believed Chay and herself were playing in the background. She wondered how long it would take the older woman to give in and ask, or at least start the conversation.

  “I am on top of things. Or so I like to think. And when we got your email asking if you could work the front desk again this summer, we were absolutely delighted—Bob and me, that is. Makes it sound like we’re a couple!” She guffawed at her own joke. “Ah. Anyway. New bunch of hands, of course; you won’t know any of them. None too good looking, but nice boys. Good boys.”

  Ah, so she is touching on it now.

  “I haven’t come back to get married, Breezy. I wanted the job because, having finished my M.A. now—”

  “Good for you! Bet you did right well, sweetheart.” There was sincere delight in her voice.

  “Thanks. Well, now that’s out of the way I’m trying to get a teaching job here in Wyoming. Quite honestly,” she added turning to face Breezy’s profile, “I couldn’t get out of New York fast enough.” And you can convey that information to whomever you wish!

  But Breezy brushed past it. “Oh, and it may be of some interest….” She stopped herself as if she were waiting for some reaction from K.C. but she kept her eyes straight ahead. “…Jamie’s parents, you know, the Forrests who lived in that great big house, they split up. Wife took off with another man and old man Forrest is living alone out there, running that ranch with his cowhands, drinking himself to death by all accounts. Guess it was all just too much to take in their son’s death, what he did, drugging girls and abusing them, trying to shoot y’all. Falling off the roof here that night like he did. I haven’t any children but I can tell ya, if I did, and one of them was like Jamie, I’d be drinking myself into a right stew as well.”

  “Poor man. I’m sorry for him.” But in her mind was the reel of those events playing again—seeing Jamie in the mirror drug her drink, running for her life through the sagebrush and trying to flag down cars until at last Chay stopped. How he kept his distance, knowing she was like a wounded animal. How everything evolved from that night. He hadn’t been a ‘bad boy’ after all; he had been a good man, a terrific lover, and a best friend.

  “K.C.? A penny for them?”

  “What? Sorry?”

  “I was saying it promises to be a busy summer from the reservations we’ve been taking. I think you’ll be kept busy.”

  “Great. That’s what I need.”

  Breezy turned and looked at her, taking in her admission. “Home sweet home,” she said as they pulled into the parking lot in front of the office. “Recognize it?”

  “Looks just the same. By the way, are there any other girls in the women’s bunkhouse?”

  “Nope. Not at the moment. Bob says with this lot of guests he may feel he needs to take on one or more additional wranglers, but for the moment you’re alone there.” She swung out of the cab and walked around to hoist down K.C.’s bags. “Looks like you’re planning on moving in with this lot.” She handed the girl a large satchel while keeping an over-sized wheelie to roll over to the cabin. “Guess you’re thinking of staying a while.”

  “Guess I am.”

  * * *

  The bunkhouse didn’t look any different. She laughed at herself, believing she saw the outline of Dakota’s body in the mattress across from her bunk as she chose the same bed she had had the last time. Sticking her head underneath, she spied up at the ticking coming through the sagging springs of the top bunk, and spotted the stain that looked like a map of Australia. She smiled to herself, and threw her case up on her bed.

  The cubbyholes next to the bunks hadn’t, in all likelihood, been dusted in two years and, sure enough, as she threw back the curtain that covered them, a puff of dust motes danced in the light. This time, however, she knew where the cleaning implements were kept along with the sprays and liquids, and she headed there straight away to give the shelves a little clean. There she found a brand new vacuum cleaner, which, to her delight, had attachments that she used to vacuum her mattress as well as inside the cubbyholes. That done, the unpacking began.

  And then the screen door swung open and Breezy was standing there, hands on hips.

  “Okay, Miss Smarty Pants, Miss New York Master’s Degree. Let’s just stop beatin’ about the bush and get down to brass tacks. What are you gonna do about Chay?”

  Chapter Nine

  K.C. stood there, knowing this conversation would have happened sooner or later, but far too tired to face it head on. She was exhausted from her flights, wanting to unpack, shower, and just get oriented once more, and hoping Breezy would give her time to get her thoughts in order. But no. Here was Breezy, ready to tackle the subject straight away, perhaps start things in motion.

  “What do you know?” was all K.C. could respond.

  “Well.” Breezy plopped down on the bed opposite K.C.’s, her gnarled hands clasped in her lap. “I know he dang well came back from New York after just three months. That didn’t last long! Bob hired him on here as he had no place to stay, his own home being rented out for several months more.”

  “Oh, Breezy.�
�� K.C. slumped onto her bed, pushing aside the unpacked items waiting to be put away. “He was just so miserable in New York. So miserable. I couldn’t stand it any more. And when you rang with that awful news about the Department of Transport wanting to put a road through his property, and asking him to come back, or telling him he’d have to come back at some stage, I knew it was the right thing to do, to just say ‘go’.”

  “Well, of course he’d have to come home. But you sent him straight off, before Christmas, and without asking him to come back to you. You broke up with the poor man. Couldn’t you have had a long distance relationship? Told him to write and phone? He came home distraught.”

  “Did he?” Part of K.C. wanted it to be so, the other part did not want to think she had done that to Chay, that she had hurt him so, not the Chay she knew and loved.

  “Sweetheart. What the heck did you think you were doing? Did you think Chay would just stop loving you ‘like that’—that you weren’t hurting him?”

  K.C. picked up a nightdress and played with it, unfolding it on her lap and refolding it as she trawled through her mind. “I believed I was doing the best thing for him. There wasn’t any point in asking him to stay until after Christmas. What kind of a Christmas would we have had—with my parents whom he hated and who hated him—and knowing he was going to leave right after? What was the point of that? The best thing, I believed, was to send him off straight away, let him go home and be with you and his friends and people who knew him and loved him, maybe go to his uncle for the holidays. I couldn’t ask him to come back to something he hated so much. And I was distraught, too. And everything sort of fell apart for me. I couldn’t work for months, and then my father died—”

  “Your father died? Does Chay know that?”

  “No, of course not. How would he?”

  “Well.” Breezy stood and paced the length of the row of bunks. “He tells me he gets these phone calls where no one answers when he picks up. I take it that is you.”