Cowboy Sing Me Home (4 page)

            “Who
was nuts enough to leave their child in your care?”
            “Haskell.”  He raised his voice to be heard over Cade’s cries.

            “He
must have been desperate.”

            Cade
reached out chubby hands to Dusty. 

            “Sorry
pal, you’re covered in chocolate from head to toe.”

            Cade’s
cry intensified.  Fat teardrops trembled on his lids, then coursed down his
round cheeks.

            Luke
moved over to that side of the booth and picked him up.  “Cade, I’m sorry,
guy.  I wish I knew what to do for you.”  

            Cade
kept crying and rubbed chocolate-covered fists against his eyes.  Then with one
quick move, he lunged at Dusty.

            “Oooh!” 
Dusty caught him, barely.   “Well…. umm, hello.”  She looked down at the smear
of chocolate that now ran down her arm.

            Cade
sniffled and looked tremulously up at Dusty. 

Dusty frowned. 

Cade hiccuped and opened his mouth for
another wail. 

“Oh, all right.  Don’t start again.  It’s okay.”  She bounced him lightly
and looked at Luke.  “Sorry, I’m just really no good with kids.  Hey.”  She
smiled at Cade.  “It’s okay, sweetie.  It’s okay.”  

“You’re doing pretty good with him for someone who’s no good with kids,”
Luke said, but Dusty wasn’t listening.  She was focused now on Cade.

“Who was mean to you, huh, little guy?”

            His
lower lip still trembling, Cade pointed at Luke.  “Unca Yook.”

            “Unca
Yook?”

            Luke
was glad Cade had gotten his genders straight and quit calling him ‘Auntie
Yook.’  “He keeps saying he wants Pez.  So I bought him some Pez, but he
wouldn’t eat it.”

            “You’re
in completely over your head, aren’t you?” 

            “Definitely.” 
He seized on the notion of an opportunity.  “I need help.  I don’t suppose
you’d be free to stay with us for an hour or so, would you?”

            Dusty
shook her head.  “Sorry.  Have to get back to the bar and get ready for
rehearsal tonight.”

            “Come
on, I’m desperate here.  I just have to watch him for…” He looked at his
watch.  “Good Lord, it’s only been thirty minutes?  I just have to watch him
for another hour or so, then he goes to the babysitter.  Just an hour. 
Please.”  He gave her the look that, according to rumor, was touching enough to
bring even the strongest woman to her knees.  “For the kid.”

            Dusty
sighed.  “You are one pathetic wretch, you know that?”

            “I
am well aware of that, yes.”

            “All
right, one hour.  But I’m not sitting in this booth for an hour while you try
to shove sugar down his throat.  Let’s get him out in the air.”

            They
ended up at the park, where there was a set of swings designed for toddlers,
with wraparound seats.  Dusty lowered Cade into the seat and pushed him gently.

            Luke
didn’t bother hiding his relief at having her with him.  He loved Cade, really
he did.  But being alone with a helpless kid, someone depending on you for
their every need… the idea gave him the heebies jeebies. 

            “What
songs are we working on tonight?”

            “A
little of this, a little of that.  Some old George Strait, the new Faith Hill
single.  A couple of originals.”

            She
fascinated him.   He leaned against the rail of the swing set, watching her
long-limbed grace, the way her whole body leaned into the push as she
entertained Cade on the swing, the way her hair blew back slightly in the
breeze.  Her face, relaxed and composed as she watched Cade, then creasing into
a smile, leaning in close when he swung toward her.

            “Cowboy,
I think your kid here is getting sleepy.”

            “How
can you tell?”

            “Besides
not being blind, you mean?  See the way his eyes are drooping, and he keeps
rubbing them?  And his voice is getting hoarse?  It’s naptime.”  She stopped
the swing and lifted him out.  Then she wrinkled her nose.  “And it’s diaper
time, too.”

            “Now
that’s one thing I can handle, believe it or not.  The diaper bag’s in the
pickup.  I’ll be right back.”

            When
he returned, she was holding Cade, looking into his round brown eyes and
singing softly to him.  His eyes did droop, Luke noticed, and he looked
content.   But then, Luke figured he’d be pretty damn content if she sang and
looked at him like that.

            He
dropped the bag on the table and turned back to them.  “You lied.”

            She
looked up in surprise, her face still glowing from the grin she’d given Cade. 
“What are you talking about?”
            “You said you were no good with kids.  You lied.  You’re great with
kids.”

            She
just rolled her eyes.  “Anyone would look like a pro, after you.”

            “I’m
serious.  You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”

            She
froze.  She blinked once, a blank stare on her face.  Then she handed Cade to
him.  “No,” she said definitely.  “I have not.”

            It
was Luke’s turn to blink.  “Okay…”

            She
backed away, shoving her hands in her pockets.  “I don’t do diapers.   And I
have to run.  So I’ll catch you later.”

            “Wait.” 
But she was already leaving, those long legs taking her away so quickly all he
could do was stand there and feel like an idiot.  “Don’t you want a ride back
to your pickup?”

            She
gave a short wave.  “It’s two blocks.  I can handle it.”

            Luke
watched her walk away, then turned to Cade.  “I don’t think it was anything
I
said.  Did you say something to offend her?”

            Cade
was watching her, too.  His lower lip started to tremble.  Then he began to
wail again.

            Luke
sighed and pulled the changing pad out of the bag, laying it out on the picnic
table.  “Here we go again.”

            Cade
continued to cry while Luke took care of the stinky diaper.  His lower lip
thrust out, he wailed, “Pe-eh-eh-ez.”

            “Aren’t
you supposed to have a short attention span?”  Luke checked his watch.  “Okay,
Mrs. Perez had better be home by now.”

            Cade
cried at ear-splitting decibel levels all the way to Mrs. Perez’s house, then
dropped off to sleep as Luke pulled into the driveway.  “Figures,” Luke
muttered.

            Luke
had never been so glad to see anyone as he was to see Mrs. Perez when she
opened the door.  He had to admit, though, a sleeping Cade on his shoulder felt
pretty darn sweet. 

            “Hi,”
Mrs. Perez whispered.  She held out her hands and Luke handed the warm bundle
of boy over to her.

            Cade’s
eyes fluttered open, and he smiled sleepily when he saw Mrs. Perez.  “Pez,” he
said with a satisfied whisper, and fell back asleep.

Wednesday evening, Dusty drove past the courthouse for the third time,
tapping her hand against the wheel and watching with growing anxiety as cars
and pickups pulled up, one after the other, into the parking lot.  Women
emerged from their automobiles with casserole dishes and cake pans, calling
after children who ran toward the park across the street and paid their mothers
no heed, and men congregated beside open tailgates to talk and joke and insult
each other. 

            Why
had she told Sheriff Haskell she would come to this stupid barbecue?   And why,
since she didn’t really want to be here, did she continue to drive around and
around instead of going back to Tumbleweeds to go over the songs for tonight’s
rehearsal? That would be the sensible thing to do.

She pulled into the
grass beside the park.  The courthouse square was like something straight from
a Normal Rockwell painting.  A little white gazebo was strung with red, white
and blue bunting.  Beside it a large barbecue pit smoked heartily away, and
from her open window Dusty could smell the heavenly scent of sauce and meat and
spices coming together in perfection.  There were couples of all sizes and ages
ranging across the lawn, even a few red-checked tablecloths draped across the
brown grass.   The grass would be green, of course, except for the drought and
water rationing.  Even the hot, dry condition didn’t mar the atmosphere,
though.  There were a few dogs, she saw, and enough kids to keep a McDonald’s
going for a couple of years.  If Hollywood had cast a scene for a founder’s day
picnic in small-town America, this was exactly what it would look like.  She
couldn’t believe how corny it all was.

It sure did look nice, she thought wistfully.

            Her
stomach growled over the sound of the radio, and she killed the motor.  It was
her hunger that decided her, she told herself.  It had nothing at all to do
with the atmosphere on the courthouse square and the small but growing ache
inside her that whispered something was missing from her life.  She was here
because of hunger, plain and simple, the promise of homemade potato salad,
barbecue ribs and apple cobbler.

            She
scowled as she picked her way through the maze of picnic blankets, searching
for a familiar face.  This was the reason she never mingled with the locals. 
She didn’t need to be reminded that she was the odd man out wherever she went.

            She
looked to her left to see an arm waving, and she followed the arm to the body
and grinning face of Luke Tanner.  He stood among a small knot of people, and
when he turned and said something to Toby Haskell, who stood beside him, Toby
looked over at her and smiled, too.

            She
rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help but feel flattered by their obvious
welcome.  She nodded a greeting as she walked up.

            “We
were taking bets about whether or not you’d actually show,” Luke said.  “I’m
glad I lost the bet.”

            “I
knew you’d be here,” Toby said smugly.

            “I
said I’d be here, didn’t I?” Dusty said, keeping her mouth shut about how close
she came to not coming.  “I was promised potato salad.”

            “You’ve
come to the right place.  My wife makes the best in the county.”  He slipped an
arm around a woman of Dusty’s own height and beamed at her.  A surprising and
unpleasant thread of envy curled in Dusty’s stomach.

            “Hi,
I’m Corinne, the wife he’s referring to.  And don’t believe everything he says
about my cooking.  He’s easily impressed.”

            After
a moment, Dusty realized Corinne had her hand out.  With a start, Dusty grabbed
it, shook it quickly, then stuffed her own hands back in her pockets, remembering
to mumble “nice to meet you” at the last minute.  She should have known that in
this perfect little town, the sheriff would have a perfect little wife, too. 
Dusty resisted the urge to brush at her clothes and silently asked herself
again what she was doing here.

            If
Corinne noticed her lack of manners, she didn’t comment.  “We’re all glad you
could make it.  Luke told me you helped him watch Cade yesterday morning. 
Thanks a lot.”

            “No
problem.  Cute kid.”  Dusty studied the stuff on the table so she wouldn’t have
to look at the starched and pressed perfection of Corinne Haskell who, even in
khaki shorts and a denim button-down shirt, managed to look elegant, with rings
that glittered on her fingers and earrings that winked at her ears. 

“I didn’t bring anything,” Dusty said as soon as she realized she
probably
should
have brought something.           

            “The
guest of honor is the
guest
.  You’re not supposed to bring anything.”

            Dusty
looked up to see a new girl, just as perfect as Corinne Haskell but even worse,
because this one was petite and dainty and made Dusty feel like a grubby Amazon
woman straight from the jungle.  She held a squirming Cade in her arms. 

            “I’m
Becca.  This is my husband, Colt.”

            Colt
stepped behind his wife and put his hands on her waist, kissing the top of her
head in an easy manner that said he’d done it hundreds of times.  “I’ve seen
you play a couple of times,” he said to Dusty.  “You’re really good.”

            “Thanks,”
Dusty murmured.  Did all the men of Aloma treat their wives with such adoration? 
It was kind of weird, she told herself.  Must be stifling to be on the
receiving end of that kind of idolization. 

            Becca
turned to hand the boy over to Corinne, but he arched in her arms with a
fretful cry and turned, launching himself at Dusty.

            “Oh!”
she said, catching him in surprise.  Suddenly her arms were full of solid, warm
boy, smelling of sweat and dirt and something sweet – probably whatever the
sticky stuff was all over his hands. 

            “Sorry
about that,” Corinne said dryly as she took the boy in her arms.  “He has a
tendency to throw himself at pretty women.  Like his daddy used to.”

            “Don’t
sweat it,” Dusty said, but still felt a little off-kilter from the contact. 
She backed away and dusted her hands together.  She looked around the small
group, feeling like the oddest odd man out.  She scowled.  “Well, are we going
to eat?”

            Luke
took her by the hand and led her toward the smoking barbecue grill.  “I’m
starved.  Wait till you taste Stevie’s ribs.  He has this recipe he swears he
bought off a Cajun in a back alley in New Orleans.”

            The
moment Dusty realized how grateful she was for the contact of Luke’s hand over
her own, she pulled back and stuck her hands back in her pockets.  She was
still considering a physical relationship with him, but it would be on her
terms.  And her terms didn’t include latching onto him like a life preserver
because she felt out of place.  She wasn’t about to make that mistake again.