Her Cowboy

by Kat Catesby

  Ash pulls his phone from his pocket, scrolls through a news website and pulls up an article on Elsie’s murder. “You’re the reason my future wife had to fight for her life – again – and the reason your son was able to murder this young woman. Look at her. Look at the face of the woman who will never get to see her family again and try to work out how many lives your son irrevocably destroyed with his actions. Yeah, I killed him and he fuckin’ deserved it,” Ash spits venom and the mighty Peter Marks breaks down and sobs.

  “I’m so sorry,” he whispers as his shoulders shake and tears stain his cheeks.

  “Sorry is just a word,” I croak. “A word created to help ease the conscience of the guilty. A word that begs forgiveness and absolution from victims when the guilty have no right to ask for it. ‘Sorry’ doesn’t change the past or make the hurt go away. ‘Sorry’ doesn’t bring Elsie Cade back from the dead. You always preach that actions have consequences…well, now you’re living with your consequences.”

  “He was my son and I loved him more than life. I would’ve done anything to protect him. I didn’t want to believe he was capable of what you accused him of. To me, you were an aggrieved ex out to destroy his future and I wasn’t about to stand by and watch that happen.”

  “You are a judge. You’re supposed to stand as a beacon of justice, not distort it. There’s a due process for a reason. If you had let David face the consequences of his actions, both he and Elsie would be alive today. David would be alive in jail, Elsie would never have met him and I wouldn’t be lying here, barely able to talk with broken ribs. This is me getting off lightly.”

  “I know.” His response is simple but pained. His interference started the chain reaction that led to his son lying downstairs in the morgue…and he knows it. “I won’t live a second of my life without knowing what I caused…and what I lost.”

  “Welcome to my world,” I don’t say it with hate, I say it with genuine sadness because I know the pain he’s going to live with. The memories he doesn’t want but has no choice but to live with. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy, which Peter Marks qualifies. I may not like him, but I still feel his pain. Before me stands a broken man, a father mourning the loss of a son he loved dearly. A parent with the primal instinct to protect their offspring at all costs, no matter the consequences. A deep bond and fierce love that should never be broken by the loss of a child.

  Suddenly, he grabs for my hand before Ash can stop him and before I can snatch it away. I can feel something crumpled up being forced into my palm just as Ash clamps hold of him by the shoulder and shoves him away. Peter throws his hands up in a show of surrender while I unravel the clump of paper in my hand. It feels like thick, heavy stocked paper, is rectangular in shape and when I turn it over, I see that it’s a cheque for a considerable sum of money.

  I drop it immediately, “I don’t want your money; you can’t buy my silence.”

  “It’s not a bribe…there’s no keeping what David did quiet. This can’t undo what you’ve suffered but it can compensate you for your medical bills, the cost of moving and help set you up with a future you deserve –”

  “And help ease your conscience. I won’t be beholden to you for anything or bribed to not testify.”

  “The money is none of those things,” he pleads. “The case against my son and the investigation into my involvement will steamroll ahead with or without your testimony. At the very least, I will lose my job and be charged with obstruction. There aren’t many wrongs in this situation that I can fix, but the financial penalties you’ve suffered are something I can help with. There’s a life and career you would’ve had if you’d never met David. Instead, your path deviated and it cost you emotionally and financially. You aren’t where you thought you’d be career-wise, you’ve had medical bills, therapy bills, the cost of relocating to a different city…it all adds up and I want to help alleviate the burden you’ve suffered. I know it falls so far short but it’s all I have to offer.”

  “I’m perfectly capable of providing a more than comfortable future for my fiancée,” snaps Asher.

  “I wasn’t making an assumption on your ability or financial stability. I just want to help.”

  Ash seethes, breathing heavily through his nose but I’m starting to get it. Peter Marks was never intentionally a bad man; by the very nature of him becoming a judge it’s clear he wanted to do good in the world, but that desire got tangled and fucked so far sideways that this is all he can offer to make amends. I don’t want the money – my future is mine, free from the Marks’ family – but I’m not going to throw it in his face. It must’ve taken a lot for him to come here, to face the reality he helped create and I’m determined to be the bigger person. I want to move on from all of this.

  My future is mine…and it’s free.

  “Thank you, Peter,” my words are quiet and hoarse, my throat scratchy but it cuts through the tension of the room clearly enough. “I’m not sure I’ll have a need for your offer but I appreciate the gesture. What’s happened isn’t something that I can forget easily but I can choose to forgive and that’s what I want to try and do. You don’t need my hatred, you have enough of your own to live with. One thing I will say, my forgiveness isn’t going to make you feel much better because it’s not my forgiveness you need. It’s the Cades you need to reach out to – if they’ll let you. If they don’t, you need to try and make some sort of peace with what’s happened on your own.”

  He bows his head, whispers ‘thank you’ and with slumped shoulders, quietly leaves my room.

  “You don’t need his money, baby. We’re more than fine financially without his blood money. That man has done nothing but try and ruin you.” Ash is barely restraining his anger but he reaches for my hand and strokes gentle circles with the rough pad of his thumb.

  “I know that. I’ve had very little choice over the things that have happened to me but forgiveness is something I can choose. I wasn’t lying; he doesn’t need my grudge because he hates himself enough already. He lost the one thing he loved more than himself. Surely you can empathize with that? You’ve chosen to love me and love me so fiercely that you killed for me. We don’t have children –”

  “Yet,” he interrupts.

  “Yet,” I agree. “Imagine how protective of them you’ll be when they get here. That instinctual love eclipses everything we’ve ever felt so far in our lives and our love is already crazy intense. I know I’ll do anything it takes to keep them safe. Peter went about it all wrong, but that’s what he tried to do for his son. I don’t agree with his methods but I can understand.”

  “I love hearing you talk about our children, makes me seriously impatient to put a baby in that beautiful belly of yours. So, yeah, I suppose I can understand what he did, but I’m not as magnanimous as you, Sunshine, I can’t forgive him so easily.”

  “And you don’t have to. I’m not doing it for his benefit, I’m doing it for mine. When we leave this hospital, that chapter of my life is over. All of it. Including my resentment for Peter Marks. Now, about those babies…”

  “We can start makin’ them anytime you want, Sunshine. I’d fuck one into you right this second, but I’d hurt you and I’m not prepared to damage your ribs further and set back your recovery. Once those bad boys are healed though, all bets are off. Your womb is mine to put as many babies in you as I can.”

  “I’d prefer it if we were married first,” but only just. The thought of carrying his baby is doing deliciously strange things to me and I don’t think I can wait the eight or so weeks my ribs need to heal. I want him now. I wish we were married yesterday so I could take him as many times as it needs to make our baby.

  “Done. You get yourself better and then we’ll get married.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Katie

  My injuries take longer to heal than we’d hoped and I’m discharged, finally, after a few more tortuously slow days. Shuffling out of the hospital towards Ash’s big ass, black truck in the glorious
Colorado summer sunshine has me grinning instead of wincing at my still aching body.

  Ash gently hoists me up into the cab of his Ford F-150; it’s not a convenient car for the injured but I’m pretty comfortable once seated. I used to joke that men with large vehicles were overcompensating – the bigger the car, the smaller the dick. But Ash buries that notion without trying. Big man, big truck, huge dick. He’s almost too much man for the truck to handle.

  We drive in companionable silence until we pass Denver’s city limits, the fingers of Ash’s right hand laced with those of my left. Like a planet with my own gravitational pull, Ash has barely left my side in days. He refuses to be too far from me and where possible, he touches me at all times. I only just managed to stop him short of following me to the bathroom once my catheter was removed. Although, given how badly it ached to sit there and wait for my bladder and bowel to start working again, I nearly caved and called him in. I’m not sure if it’s romantic or disturbing that he’d happily sit there supporting my ribs while I shit. It’s almost like the night of my attack flipped a switch in him and things that would be distasteful for people who haven’t suffered a traumatic experience, don’t even make him bat an eye. In his mind, he’d rather wipe my ass clean because it’s too painful for me to twist and reach it myself because the alternative very nearly saw me in the morgue.

  “I had a phone call this morning while you were in the bathroom,” he says in a deep but quiet tone. I give him my attention and smile for him to continue. While my voice is no longer husky or sore, I still feel like I’m swallowing past a large lump when I speak. It’s fading a little more day by day but until it’s gone, I only speak when I have to.

  “From Elsie’s father,” he continues. “Poor guy could barely speak a sentence and I could hear crying in the background. He sounded uncomfortable to be callin’ but he wanted to speak to the man that ended David Marks’.” A dark shadow settles in Ash’s eyes. For the most part, he’s made his peace with his actions but his expression is turbulent. He’s not haunted by it because to him, the alternative was unthinkable, unliveable. However, Ash was never a soldier; he was never trained to deal out death, despite how efficiently he did it, and there’s always a dark blip when he remembers that he now wears the title of ‘murderer’, no matter how justified.

  “What did he say?”

  “Thank you,” he answers simply. “The Cade’s wanted justice but they didn’t know how they’d cope with facing David day in, day out during a trial. Killing him saved them the torture of facing their daughter’s murderer. I don’t know how anyone does that. I know for a fact; I wouldn’t be able to share the same room as someone who stole someone I loved. Watching them draw breath in the place of someone who deserved life more doesn’t sit right with me. Doesn’t sit right with the Cade’s either.”

  “Do they want to talk to me?” I ask uneasily, not sure how I feel about it.

  “No, baby, they don’t. You’re the woman who lived and while they aren’t the sort of folk to wish harm on an innocent woman, they can’t help but wonder why the world took their daughter but spared you. Then they feel guilty for thinking that way. They know it’s more complicated than the universe or karma or whatever bullshit they want to believe in. You and Elsie both fought hard but you survived while they buried their daughter yesterday. They don’t wish it were you instead, but life doesn’t feel particularly fair to them at the moment.”

  I nod in agreement.

  “They did pass on an apology though,” he continues. “Turns out Elsie told them about the time you called her and tried to persuade her to leave David. As you can imagine, they trash-talked you. Sayin’ you were the crazed ex out to ruin David’s life. Hindsight is always twenty/twenty though, and now they wish more than anythin’ that they had listened to you. Heeding your warnings would have saved their daughter and Mr. Cade is takin’ that pretty hard because deep down, he had his reservations about David. Gotta say it took a lot of teeth grittin’ to listen to them say what they said about you before they knew the truth. They wanted me to pass on their apologies for not believing in you when it could’ve made a difference.”

  “They don’t need to apologize to me for that. They need to work out how to forgive themselves. Life is going to be hard enough for them without burdening themselves with shoulda woulda coulda’s.”

  “That family are never gonna forgive themselves. You and I both know it.” He squeezes my hand and I look back out the windscreen at the dramatic, jagged peaks casting shadows across rolling hills of wildflowers in the morning sun. Snatching glimpses of Ash’s powerful profile while he drives one-handed, easily mastering his beast of a vehicle, I can’t tell which view I love more.

  About an hour from the ranch, Ash’s phone rings through the truck’s speakers followed by the sounds of Josh’s voice.

  “Hey, Boss. Just lettin’ you know that the fence is mended and the last of the cattle rounded up. All’s goin’ to plan.”

  Plan?

  None of what Josh said makes any sense but the last bit stands out oddly. Ash doesn’t react to it but it’s almost forcefully deliberate. A subtle tick in the corner of his eye that tells me he’s straining at nonchalance.

  Hmm.

  “Thanks, man. We’re ‘bout an hour away,” he answers before ending the call.

  “Cattle got outta their pasture,” Ash says to me in answer to my curious stare. Ash owns so much land that I barely see the cattle and frequently forget he even has a small herd. He keeps them far away from the hotel guests due to the fact that not everyone appreciates the country-farmyard-manure stench of cow shit. Ash has big plans to expand the hotel pool area into a full spa and then market the lodge as a wedding venue and I quote, ‘no one wants a scented side order of cow shit with their spa day or wedding cake’. He’s so good at keeping the cows away that I can’t remember the last time I saw one.

  “How’d the cows escape?”

  “David cut the wire fence. That’s how he evaded capture – he went cross country. Cut his way through a wire fence and got onto the property the back way. Took a while for the cattle to meander through the damage he made and for us to find it, but the guys have it fixed now.”

  I take a moment to enjoy the fact that the sound of David’s name no longer affects me in any way. There’s no fear, no anger, no resentment…nothing but beautiful ambivalence.

  It’s almost starting to feel like it all happened to someone else, like a nightmare I’ve finally woken from and never have to dwell on again.

  I shift in my seat, trying to keep myself comfortable and give up because nothing is comfortable currently, and instead decide to try and nap for the rest of the journey.

  * * *

  The truck going over a bump as it passes from the main road and onto the ranch drive wakes me with a start.

  “Hey there sleepy, finished snorin’ for the day?” I shoot my fiancé a withering look and notice that his joke hasn’t reached his eyes. The deep, molten browns don’t sparkle with mischief like they usually do when he jokes at my expense…he’s nervous.

  Is he worried about bringing me back to where my attack happened? We’ve spoken about how I feel about the ranch and our home now and I can honestly say that, given David’s current state of decomposition, I’m not afraid to come back here. I rule my memories, not the other way around. My vehemence was only just enough to stop him bulldozing the ranch house, mind you.

  We ride the last ten minutes in awkward silence. Him worrying and me worrying about his worrying. All quite pointless really if we dared to talk to one another but Ash seems so absorbed by his thoughts and I’m starting to seize up from sitting in the same position for too long.

  Thirty seconds later and everything suddenly makes sense: Josh’s comment about ‘all going to plan’ and Ash’s distractedness…it all clicks into place when our ranch house comes into view and I see that the entire front porch has been decked out with fairy lights and flowers. Hundreds and hundreds of vibrantly
colored flowers in all varieties adorn nearly every inch of the rustic wood porch while a homemade ‘welcome home’ sign hangs above the front door. The fairy lights twinkle lightly but most of the light is lost to the early afternoon sunshine.

  Even if I wanted to scan the surrounding hillside for signs of what happened, I’d never be able to tear my gaze away from the beautifully romantic and thoughtful display in front of me, complete with everyone I know. Seriously, everyone I know is stood in front of our house, smiling and waiting for us. Josh, Mike, Jack, Moira and Bill, sporting stitches above his right eye. Even Carly is there with a broad smile. She’s stood next to Max and an attractive woman I assume is his girlfriend, Lucy. In front of them all, and hopping impatiently from foot to foot, is Maddie with Dix hovering not far behind her left shoulder.

  I can’t believe they’re all here to welcome me home. I’m overwhelmed by how good it is to see all their faces and how, despite everything, this place, these people, it all feels like home.

  “Welcome home, Sunshine,” Ash murmurs in my ear as he eases me out of the truck and gently lowers my feet to the ground. He keeps an arm around my waist as we walk, shouldering some of my weight while my seized muscles loosen with each step.

  My adopted family clap and cheer, hug me gently but allow Ash to half carry me past them and up the porch steps. I thought I’d get longer to talk to everyone unless he means for them to follow us inside but no one makes a move towards the porch steps.

  Confused, I turn my attention back to Ash but I’m not staring at his chest like I expect when I’m stood this close to him and my eye level only reaches the hard planes of his pecs. Instead, I see the top of his head and that’s when I notice he’s down on one knee with a little black, velvet box tied with a small red, satin ribbon – Oh – in his hand.

  “I thought we already did this,” I half squeak, half choke.

  “We did. I was desperate to ask you. So desperate that I didn’t have a ring or a clue about how to do it properly. It means the world to me that you love me enough to say yes to what was essentially the world’s crappiest proposal but I want to do it properly. Down on one knee, ring in hand, in front of all the people we hold dear and free from the past. You said it yourself, when we leave the hospital, we’re starting a new chapter of our life. So, I’m making sure we start it properly. With a ring on my beautiful fiancée’s finger. Where it should be. I’m hoping your answer hasn’t changed and that you still want to take me as your husband and be my wife, be mine. I love you. Katie, will you marry me?”