Big Chance Cowboy

by Teri Anne Stanley

  He scowled. “I’ll start tomorrow.”

  “And then you’ll talk to Emma?”

  “I guess so.”

  Lizzie tried not to laugh at how much he sounded like a recalcitrant teenager. “Then I’ll put some feelers out and see who might be looking for something.”

  He nodded. “Thank you.”

  She watched him for a moment. She wasn’t responsible for whatever bad memories he was wading through tonight, but she also didn’t want to leave him alone if he was in a bad place. “I, um, I should head out, I guess. Are you okay?”

  He raised an eyebrow, no longer sullen or teenager-like and every bit the walking advertisement for hotness. “I’m good. Probably won’t sleep much tonight, wondering what you decide.”

  Lizzie tilted her head, not sure what he was talking about but held captive by his laser-blue stare.

  His smile was almost feral when he said, “I vote natural.”

  Chapter 14

  The dream that night was bad. After the day he’d had—seeing his shrink, talking about Tank—Adam expected it, had even considered taking some of the Ambien the doc at the VA had prescribed, but he’d had a few beers, and he didn’t like the way it made him feel. He usually woke up in worse shape than if he’d forced himself to stay awake all night. But sometimes you just had to fucking sleep.

  Last night, he’d managed to get over himself enough to go back outside and help Emma get Granddad loaded up and act like he hadn’t just had a temper tantrum because poor Jake upset his delicate feelings. Before he told Lizzie good night, she said something inconsequential about putting out feelers to people who might be looking for land before officially listing the property. And then she gave him a damned hug before kissing the dog on the head and driving off into the night.

  Talbott and Jake went to walk the new dog and the pit bull before it was completely dark, so he’d gone inside and up to bed. Didn’t matter that it was only nine o’clock.

  He told himself he was going to read for a couple of hours, but like anything else he’d tried to do for the last, hell, five years, his attention span was shit. He wound up staring at shadows on the ceiling. What was he doing, trying to fix things in Big Chance? He should leave now. And do what? Maybe he should get a job driving interstate trucks. Be on the road for the rest of his life.

  That had led him to thinking he might have to stay with his sister during holidays, and then he was somehow driving a tractor trailer full of soldiers—like a boxcar in a World War II concentration camp movie. They were in Afghanistan, and Lizzie sat next to him in the cab, telling him all the things she wanted him to help her with. He couldn’t help her because there were soldiers in trouble, and he was responsible for them… A family of dogs blocked the road, strapped with explosives. He told Lizzie not to try to move them, but she just laughed and patted his leg and got out. He tried to stop her, but his door was locked.

  The next thing he knew, he was sitting up, gasping for breath. D-Day straddled his chest, dangling a giant, slimy rope toy in his face.

  He sat up and shoved his hands in the dog’s fur, pulling him close, breathing in his relatively clean doggy smell. He let his own breath match the dog’s rhythm until they were both panting less desperately.

  D-Day licked Adam’s ear and reclined next to him with a sigh. Adam rubbed his head, acknowledging—if only to himself—that he appreciated the dog choosing to sleep in his room instead of with his new best friend, Patton.

  He lay back and tried to think about anything else, but the images from the dream, the sense of impending danger, were slow to leave.

  The comforting murmur of faint curses and explosions from the living room beckoned, so he got up to join Jake and Talbott for the current zombie apocalypse battle. He wanted to bitch at them and blame the sounds of gunfire and death screams for his interrupted sleep but knew that was bullshit. Hell, the video game was practically white noise for him.

  “Hey, man,” Talbott said, scooting over to make room on the couch and reaching into a handy cooler for a cold beer, which he handed to Adam. “Take over for me. We’ve almost got that herd of zombies corralled in the school gym.”

  D-Day joined the retriever next to the plastic kiddie pool, which someone—probably Jake—had wrangled inside to serve as a nursery. The female pit bull raised her head to glare at the boys, then settled down with a sigh when she was sure they were there to keep her company, not harm her children. The damaged eye had been removed, but even with the splinted leg, she was doing surprisingly well.

  Adam accepted a beer, joined the game, and decapitated a few gray monsters, but then Jake’s character ran into a blind alley and got eaten.

  “Aaah, hell,” Jake said, throwing his controller down on the coffee table. “I can’t even…kill zombies right.”

  “Dude, it’s cool. I got your back,” Talbott said. “Give it a minute, get your power back up, and we’ll get ’em.”

  “No, man,” Jake said, tossing a beer can at the trash bag across the room. He missed. “This…is bullshit. You can’t take care of me…for the rest…of your life.” The alcohol made him speak even slower than he usually did.

  “Yeah, I can.”

  Adam tried to ignore the bickering and focus on the raging battle of pixels in front of him.

  “You can barely…take care of yourself,” Jake said.

  “I’ll be all right,” Talbott said. “And you will, too. All we gotta do is stick together, and we’ll be all right.”

  “How? I can’t get to the…goddamned…grocery store…and back. What happens…when you have surgery? Who will drive you…places? I can’t do that. I can’t…find the…fucking driveway.”

  “You know, for someone who thinks he’s not recovering, you sure can cuss me out better than ever.”

  “Don’t change…the subject.”

  Adam recognized that they weren’t talking about the video game anymore and put his controller down. “What surgery?”

  “Nothing, Hoss.” Talbott’s normally “it’s all good” expression was closed down tight, and his warrior mask was firmly in place.

  “He’s got to get…his back fused.” Jake, on the other hand, had never looked younger than he did now, in the flickering light from the video monitor.

  “No, I don’t.”

  “If he doesn’t, he’s going to have…more problems than a…purple foot.”

  “It’s not that bad,” Talbott insisted.

  “It’s worse. You need…to…face reality, asshole. Where…what am I going to do…if you can’t fun…function?”

  “Damn it, Jake, shut up. You’re going to jinx me.”

  “Enough!” Adam yelled. All three dogs raised their heads, but only D-Day moved, rising and padding across the floor to settle next to Adam’s legs. Hand on the dog’s head, he spoke in a lower voice. “Stop it, both of you.”

  The two men looked at him, and he saw two very different versions of fear staring back. He automatically entered Sergeant Collins mode. “I need more information.”

  Talbott shook his head. “You don’t have to worry about it—”

  Adam stopped him with a raised hand. “You didn’t show up here for a little vacation.”

  Talbott shot a glance at Jake that said he was done looking out for his friend’s feelings. “We came here because Jake needs help. Because I need help with Jake.”

  Jake didn’t speak but shook his head wearily, aging a dozen years in the space of his friend’s words.

  “Bullshit,” Adam said. “Jake might need a hand up, but I’ve seen the way you move when you think no one’s looking. You’re hurting. I’ve also seen that duffel bag full of pills you carry around. I’m going to help. One way or another, I’ll make sure you have somewhere to go and something to do, and I’ll fight the VA for whatever else you need.”

  “Listen,” Talbott said, “
I do still have a lot of pain. That’s what the meds are for. But I’m going to be okay. I’ve got a workout regimen, and I’m getting stronger every day.”

  Jake shook his head almost imperceptibly but also shrugged. Adam got the message. They were fighting a losing battle on this front, so he made a decision and took another tack. “That’s great, man. If anyone can do it, it’s you.”

  “You know it,” Talbott said, his easy confidence reappearing.

  “But you still need help.” He could see that Talbott was about to protest, so he said, “Just listen for a minute. What do you have the most trouble with?”

  Talbott shook his head but then admitted, “Some days—not all days—standing up is hard, and getting up and down stairs can be a little rough.”

  “Okay. Here’s what we’re going to do. Patton, come over here.”

  There was no way the big dog had learned its name already, but it saw Adam gesturing to it and came to see what he wanted. He ran his hands over the dog’s body, feeling big strong bones. “You had him checked out by Rob Chance?”

  “Yep,” Jake confirmed.

  Talbott was silent, suspicious at this apparent shift in the conversation.

  “I was half joking when I brought it up earlier, but if Doc Chance says it’s okay and the temperament tests look good, I don’t see why you can’t train yourself a mobility assistance dog.”

  Talbott rolled his eyes, and his tone became all duh. “Because I don’t need an assistance dog? And don’t you have to be permanently disabled to get one?”

  Adam had considered this. “Yep. But anyone can train one. You could train this one, and then if…when you’re better, you can donate the dog to someone who needs one.”

  Talbott mulled this over, mouth pursed.

  Jake, however, was grinning. “Cool. You’re going to train dogs again.”

  “Just until Talbott has the hang of it. I’m not getting back into the dog business.” Adam waved around the room to encompass all three adult dogs and the pups. “These things are all getting new homes. Don’t forget I’m cutting bait here as soon as I can.”

  “What…about Lizzie?” Jake asked.

  Adam froze with his beer can almost to his lips and said, “What about her?”

  “She likes you,” Jake said. “And she’ll be…bummed out if you move away.”

  “You sound like an eighth grader, Jakey,” Talbott said. “What he means is Lizzie wants to get with you. As in, naked.”

  Adam shrugged, trying to be nonchalant. “Lizzie likes me because I’m helping her with D-Day.” But even as he said it, he knew what they said was true and, worse, that he wanted to get with her even more. He was going to have to make sure that he didn’t leave Big Chance with more regrets than he’d brought with him.

  Chapter 15

  Adam returned to the ranch after his next visit to the VA, half hoping, half fearing that Lizzie would be there. For the past couple of weeks, he’d managed to stay on the roof of one building or another until nearly dusk, replacing missing shingles and nailing down others that might think about wiggling in the next breeze. He’d shored up the rafters under the sagging porch roof, too, and cleaned out all the gutters. His theory was that staying on a ladder as much as possible would keep her at arm’s length and prevent him from pulling her soft curves against him, from tasting her kiss. He had managed not to do it but couldn’t seem to stop wanting.

  And of course, she hadn’t missed a training session. She was there every afternoon, working with one of the dogs, passing what she’d learned on to Talbott, who had reluctantly agreed to put Patton through his paces. She’d yell up through the sweltering summer heat to ask Adam questions about behavior and care every fifteen minutes, smile, and tempt him with promises of sweet, cold iced tea—which he’d refuse, pretending he was more than happy to parboil himself on the barn roof.

  Except he wasn’t happy. And Daphne, his VA shrink, had noticed, commented on his edginess, and then sat patiently until he confessed that there was this woman…

  He’d come home with a new self-help suggestion—to stop worrying about everything that could go wrong and appreciate what was going right. Like the fact he was working through his shit enough to notice the possibilities in front of him. He didn’t have to act; he just had to notice.

  Whatever. His opinion was that noticing how badly he wanted Lizzie and noticing the way she blushed while holding his gaze would only increase the amount of noise in his head.

  Adam had stopped in town on his way home, even though he’d already exceeded his time-not-being-a-hermit quota for the day. He’d decided that if he broke out in a sweat while he was there—and not a nice lower-your-temperature type sweat, but a prickling-along-every-nerve-ending acid sweat—then fine. He’d go to town every chance he got until he melted or got better. He even reviewed the relaxation and desensitization exercises Daphne suggested. He couldn’t very well expect Talbott to acknowledge and deal with his shit if he wasn’t going to take care of his own.

  Which brought his mind back around to Lizzie and the possibility that he might see her today.

  D-Day began his wiggle and whine routine as they approached the house. There didn’t appear to be anyone home. No dogs barking, no drunken soldiers lounging on the porch, nothing. There was no festive barbecue in his barnyard. As a matter of fact, it was eerily quiet when he parked the truck and got out.

  “Hello?” he called into the house, but he already knew it was deserted—Talbott’s car was gone from the side of the barn, and Talbott didn’t go anywhere without Jake. D-Day gave an echoing bark, but it wasn’t answered.

  Where were the other dogs? Loretta and her crew had been relocated to the barn during the day, because the puppies were starting to move around and needed more room. They normally made a ruckus when anyone pulled in.

  Adam was getting used to the mutts, though, and that was a bad thing. As different as they were from the dogs he’d worked with in the army, they still panted, barked, and wanted their bellies rubbed, and every time he found one lying on his couch, he was reminded of Tank.

  Fucking Tank.

  Stupid. It was a dog. Equipment. Like his rifle or his helmet. Something to be inventoried, used, replaced when it couldn’t be repaired. If his grandfather had taught him nothing else, it was not to get attached to anyone or anything. So why had his second stop today been at the new tattoo place in town? He rubbed around the edges of the plastic taped over the new ink on his shoulder. It would itch like crazy in a few more days, but right now, there was a burning ache. The pain was only skin deep—it didn’t hurt nearly as bad as the hole the damned dog had left in his heart.

  He led D-Day into the house and detached the leash. The dog trotted ahead into the kitchen and slurped up water from the big pan by the back door.

  He flipped on the kitchen light and stared dumbly at the mason jar filled with weeds in the middle of the battered kitchen table. Who the hell would do that? Probably Talbott’s idea of a joke. They’d no doubt come in with a whole field guide’s worth of bugs. He picked up the jar and opened the back door. A gust of wind swept half of the petals off. Looking at the sky, he wondered if a storm was blowing in. There had been hazy clouds hanging around all day.

  He bent to put the jar on the stoop.

  “Are you allergic?” a voice asked from the side of the house.

  Adam jumped and jerked, dropping the jar on the concrete step, where it shattered. “Damn it!”

  “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you.” Lizzie apologized and stepped forward as though she’d meant to catch the mess before it hit the ground.

  “Stop!” Adam held up a hand.

  She froze, eyes wide.

  He remembered too late that she was neither one of his soldiers nor one of his dogs. “I don’t want you to get cut,” he explained. “Where did you come from? I didn’t realize you were
here.”

  “I figured that out. I’ll make more noise next time. I parked behind the barn.” A half smile curved her mouth, and he wondered if she still used cherry Chapstick.

  Fortunately, he was distracted by a rustling in the weeds beyond the yard and the joyful bark of the big yellow dog, who shot out of the field and headed straight for Adam and the broken glass.

  “Whoa!” he shouted and jumped over the mess on the step. He caught the dog but landed on his ass in the process. Instead of squirming away, Patton thanked him with a big, sloppy kiss.

  From inside, D-Day barked as though he were missing out on prime rib.

  “Phew, you stink,” Adam grumbled, pushing Patton’s face away, but the dog wouldn’t be deterred.

  “Yeah, he found something gross and muddy to roll in while we were walking around.”

  “Don’t let that happen,” Adam warned, looking at the filthy dog. “You’re supposed to be in charge.”

  “Yeah. He doesn’t seem to be getting the message. Come on, Patton.” It took everything in Adam not to smile while Lizzie laughed, pulling the dog away by the collar. Patton got in one more kiss before surrendering.

  “What the hell?” Adam wiped his face on the shoulder of his T-shirt.

  “He missed you, duh,” Lizzie told him.

  “I don’t know why. Jake and Talbott feed and walk it.”

  “Well,” she said, as though reading his mind, “some of us can’t seem to take no for an answer.”

  He looked at her then, her rueful smile suggesting that she wasn’t just referring to the dog.

  “I—” What did he say to that? She clearly didn’t think he wanted her around, which, he had to admit, wasn’t strictly true, in spite of the way he’d been avoiding her lately. It was more that when she was around, he got confused. He started wishing for things that he knew he couldn’t have, things he didn’t deserve. And in spite of all his good therapy intentions, that pissed him off.