Cowboys 03 - My Cowboy Homecoming (3 page)

I had. It was pretty clear they had him dead to rights.

“Everyone knows the”—she made quotation marks with her fingers—“‘lamestream media’ twists everything to support its liberal agenda.” Her shoulders had tensed and now they hunched near her ears. “I’d prefer to stay away from politics and the news and alarming things of that nature for the most part. You can’t keep a prayerful, orderly home if you’re agitated by the modern world all the time.”

“You can’t ignore the facts, either. You can’t pretend the world is soft and nice and nothing bad happens—”

“Well, aren’t you Mr. Glass-half-empty.” She reached over and gave my shoulder a firm, playful shove. It sent me into Heath’s headboard and from there, into the wall. It reminded me my mother was stronger than she let on. “You always carried a little gloom and doom with you, didn’t you?”

“I did?”
Do I?

“Being with the army probably made that pessimism worse. We are all presented with horrible images daily. But the Lord exhorts us to keep them outside our home.” She tilted her head to one side, seeming to consider me from that new angle. Her eyes widened. “Wait. I know just what you need.”

“Ma—” I tried to stop her, but she ignored me and scampered from the room.

I contemplated what she’d said about Dad filing an appeal. How could she close her eyes to all the facts around his case? How could she go on blithely believing some fairy tale where he was in the wrong place at the wrong time? I’d even told her what I’d seen
with my own eyes
, and she acted like she’d forgotten everything.

She came back into the room a few minutes later with a glass of milk and a plate of cookies she’d warmed for a few seconds in the microwave.

Ma’s cure for what ails you.

“Let’s see if these don’t uplift Mr. Grumpy Gus.”

“Ma.”
Christ.
Next she was going to tell me to “open up for the choo-choo
.
” “Thank you. Really. But this isn’t going to help the fact that we owe a ton of money and I’ve only got a lead on one job, and I might need three or four . . .”

“Aw, honey.” She started to do that ruffling thing with my hair again but drew her hand back when I flinched. “Things are never as bad as you think.”

The next morning, I spent too much time on the phone. Thank God half our creditors did business on Eastern standard time. By six thirty, I’d done my best to reassure my mother’s most urgent creditors.

Then I turned my attention to the J-Bar. Dad’s truck started, which was a lucky break. Apparently my brother had taken the trouble to fire it up every now and again. It would do for transportation, but just the idea of driving that old piece of shit made my hands sweaty on the wheel.

I’d said it before, a ride’s a ride, but Dad’s truck had that extra serving of
God Help Me
because it was papered over with hyper-conservative, anti-immigrant, and downright racist bumper stickers and upside-down American flags. My least favorite referred to Uncle Sam, my former boss: “A patriot must always be ready to defend his country from his government.”

Please.

I’d signed on to die for the U.S. of A and I knew free speech was important, but even purest desperation couldn’t make me drive that truck.

After a long search, I found a rusty scraper blade in the garden shed and tried not to worry what Ma would do to me once she caught me using it on Dad’s truck. Before I was done, she came out to the porch, clutching her robe together.

“
Junior!
My God, stop.” Her shrill voice shattered the air around us as she clattered down a couple steps in high-heeled sandals. “You can’t do that. That’s your daddy’s truck. When he gets back and sees what you’ve done—”

“I’ll worry about that when the time comes,” I said, standing to face her. “I can’t roll up to the J-Bar with all these bullshit stickers. And call me ‘Tripp,’ please. I don’t answer to ‘Junior.’”

“Son—”

“I can’t, Ma.”

“Look.” She wrapped her arms around herself, even though it was plenty warm out already. “Your dad did some things I don’t agree with, and God knows you have bad memories from that trip to Las Cruces with him and his friends—”

“Don’t.” My whole body tightened up at the mention of that. I could hear a “but” coming. There wasn’t a “but” in the world persuasive enough to change my mind about Dad. “It’s more than bad memories, Ma.”

“He’s your father. You share his blood.”

“I share your blood too.” I tried to soften my reply. “I prefer to focus on that.”

“You can’t be angry at your daddy forever.”

“Can’t I?”

She came down another step. “Nothing changes the fact that he’s your father.”

“Maybe I prefer to ignore the facts,” I snapped. “Maybe I’m more like
my mother
in that respect.”

She fled back to the house, letting the screen door slam behind her.

Damn, damn, and damn.

My dad was the one who took his frustration out on my mother, not me. I could not let things go at that.

I finished what I was doing to calm myself down. Then I went back inside. I found her sitting at the table, holding a cup of coffee between her hands. Her dark hair had come loose from its ponytail in her sleep, and hanks of it framed her face. She looked tired.

“I’m sorry, Ma.” I went to the sink to wash off my hands. “I didn’t mean that.”

“I’m sorry too,” she whispered.

I leaned against counter. “Look. It’s not easy being back in civilian life.”

“I know.”

“A lot of things are going to require my attention, but getting a job is the most important. You need to cut me some slack if I forget and do things my way for a while without talking things through. I’m kind of in unknown territory here.”

Brows lowered over those warm blue eyes. “What do you mean?”

I sat down across from her. “I guess I’m a little lost right now. I can’t reconnoiter the road ahead. I didn’t get a map of ‘civilian life’ before I got here. Give me some time to get my bearings, and things will be better. Promise.”

“That sounds fair.” Her smile trembled.

“Thank you.” I stood up, ready to face the job interview. “And thanks for getting me this chance at the J-Bar. It could be really . . . good.”

She smiled happily. “See? I can do things right sometimes.”

“Aw, don’t sell yourself short, Ma.” I headed for the door. “You can reach me on my phone if you need anything.”

“Thank you, son.”

“’Bye.” I waved as I left.

I shoved the sack of scraped-off bumper stickers into the trash, feeling much better about the day in general. The sky was wide and blue. Wisps of cirrus clouds streaked the sky overhead while thicker, cottony cumulus tufts built to the north. The day was going to be warm and beautiful, and I had a shot at working at the J-Bar.

I loved outdoor work. I loved animals. It was
perfect.

So what if my ma set it up? I’d shave a bull moose’s balls by hand during mating season to ride a horse under the blue New Mexico sky again.

If I had any misgivings, they were all about Lucho Reyes. The thought of seeing the J-Bar’s handsome, surly hand again ignited a slow burn of pure physical attraction, deep in my belly.

That was me thinking with my little head right there.

My big head said,
Whoa, boy
. You need this job too much to fuck it up.

Lucho made his feelings about my family and me perfectly clear. Plus, he wasn’t going to give me points for taking over his job while he was laid up.

At any rate, I prided myself on knowing when to keep my dick in my pants.

By the time my tires crunched up the gravel drive at the J-Bar Ranch, I was ready to show Speed Malloy that hiring me on—even temporarily—was going to be the best decision he would ever make.

I parked in front of the ranch house, which brought back a wealth of good memories. As I got out, the front door opened and two men came out. I was pretty sure one was Speed Malloy. He’d filled out some since I’d seen him, but he still had a nice smile. In general, he was a fine-looking cowboy.

I didn’t recognize the man who came out with him. He was younger and leaner than Malloy. Lithe. He had sun-warmed skin and black hair that gleamed when the light hit it just right.

“Hey there,” Malloy’s partner waved the hand that wasn’t holding a terra-cotta pot with what looked like strawberry plants flowering in it.

“Hi,” I waved back. He looked enough like a young god that I almost sputtered my introduction. “My name’s Calvin Tripplehorn. People call me ‘Tripp.’”

“I’m Speed,” Malloy came down the steps and held his hand out for a shake. “This is my partner, Crispin Carrasco.”

“Nice to meet you both.” I glanced between them. “My ma said I should come ask you for a job. She said she talked to you yesterday?”

“Yeah.” Speed watched Crispin set the pot on a sunny corner of the porch. “You’re just out of the army?”

“Yes, sir,” I nodded. “My TOS was up. Honorable discharge.”

“Do you have any experience working on a ranch?”

“No, sir.” I admitted. “We had horses when I was growing up, but I can’t say I ever had much to do with cattle.”

Malloy frowned. “It’s calving season. That’s not a good time to try to get a new hire up to speed.”

“I’m a quick study, sir.” I put my hands behind my back, trying not to look like I was standing at parade rest when I actually was.

“Most people call me ‘boss’ or ‘Malloy.’”

“Yes, sir,” I said, stupidly.

Behind Malloy, Crispin laughed. “Why don’t you show him around? Let him get a feel for the place. It’d be handy to have another body to fill in while Lucho’s out of commission. He can do what he can, and learn as he goes.”

“You think?” Malloy’s gaze met his partner’s. For a moment his expression was so full of warmth I was amazed the porch supports didn’t combust.

Crispin nodded serenely. “It’s going to get pretty busy, and a hand that can do day-to-day chores would free one of us up to do more specialized work.”

Malloy gave that some thought. He seemed to make up his mind, because he crooked his finger for me to follow him. “This way. We took in a couple of rescue horses a week ago, and Lucho got himself stomped on by one of ’em.”

“I met him yesterday.”

“You met the horse?”

“No, I met Lucho.” Malloy’s sly gaze landed on me.
Ah. A joke. Subtle.

“I heard.” He looked me over. Frowned. “Your mother and Emma go way back. When she called yesterday I didn’t have the heart to tell her I think hiring you might be a bad idea.”

“You felt obligated to look me over because she asked you to?”

“I guess that’s right, yeah.” He admitted. He had eyes so blue and direct they drilled into me like lasers. “So far, I’m not overwhelmed.”

I laugh sometimes when I’m on the spot. It almost never helps. “And now, you’re remembering my dad is a criminal, and you’re having second thoughts.”

“Pretty much, yeah.” Malloy colored faintly.

“Look, I can be a useful guy to have around. Suppose you tell me what needs doing, and I’ll get on it. After you’ve given me a shot, you can tell me whether you think I’m worth keeping. I’ll give you some free days to figure it out.”

He tipped back his cowboy hat and studied me. “Why would you do something like that?”

“I’m desperate?” I said, holding nothing back. “My brother’s gone and I have to take care of my mother. I have to ease back into civilian life. I’m behind the eight ball around these parts because of my family, so as far as I’m concerned, nepotism is my only shot until I get my feet back under me.”

“Nepotism?” he asked.

“That means—”

“I know what the word means, Tripp. I just never heard one of my hands use it before.”

“So that means I’m hired?” I couldn’t help doing a little fist pump. God, I wanted that job so badly. “Thank you.”

“I didn’t say you were hired.”

Wait.
“You called me
one of my hands
.” I didn’t shout, “No take backs,” but the thought did come to mind.

He laughed at that. “Technically, I said I just never heard
one of my hands
use the word. You are not one of my hands.”

Ah, goddamnit. “Okay, but we’re still in process right? Because I didn’t hear you say no yet—”

“Shit.” He smiled at me. “You remind me a little of someone else I know.”

“Who?”

He hesitated before saying, “I think I’ll wait and see if anyone else notices before I say anything.”

“All right. As long as it’s a good thing.”

“It could be, if you’re willing to work hard.”

“I’m no stranger to physical labor. You’ll see.”

He turned and took off again, and I followed, making a mental list of my accomplishments, such as they were. We passed a small manufactured house and a couple of animal pens, one for sheep and one for alpacas. It took me a minute of staring at them before I remembered I was trying to impress him.

“I have some carpentry skills, and I’m good with machines.”

“What about animals?” he asked. “We have a small herd of Angus cows, several horses, and these guys, Emma’s special project. We sell the fiber to local crafters who spin it and sell to specialty stores. Lucho convinced us to take on a couple of abandoned horses, and, like an ass, I agreed. He’s our best horseman and he went and got himself stomped on.”

“I’ll do whatever you need me to do, boss.”

At the barn door, Malloy turned around and stopped, so I nearly lurched into him. “I’m willing to give you two days, but I’ve gotta warn you. You’re right about how folks see your family around here.”

“I understand. I’m not—”

“Emma may have been fond of your mother, but everyone around here knows your father ruined a lot of lives. Reyes has more reason than most to resent it. If you can’t work with him, you’ll have to go.”

“My dad’s in prison for a reason. I don’t know Lucho’s story but—”

“It’s not my story to tell.” He shrugged. “It’ll take more than two days to mend that fence. You’re probably wasting your time.”

“It’s my time to waste.” I chose my words carefully. “I’m nothing like my dad. If you give me the chance to prove that, you won’t regret it.”

He held his hand out. “Consider your tryout started, then.”

“Thanks.” We shook on it. “What do you need me to do?”

“Let’s start here in the barn.”

I followed him inside, where the thick, hot smell of horse and hay and leather brought me back to some of the happiest days of my life. I was just about to say that, when Lucho Reyes hobbled out from one of the stalls.

“Lucho, what the hell?” Malloy stepped forward to help him. “You’re supposed to keep that foot up so the swelling goes down.”

“Sorry, boss,” Lucho said lightly. “The horses don’t understand why I’m—” The exact moment he saw me, his mouth snapped shut.

“I told Jimmy to feed them today.” Malloy seemed like a man it would be unwise to disobey.

“They miss me.” One of the horses in question, a big bay, nudged Lucho’s shoulder affectionately. “And I miss them. They’re like family.”

Heat suffused my body.
I want him to look at me like that.

“If they’re family, they’ll want what’s best for you.” Malloy pinned him with an unhappy glare. “You’re under orders to rest up until you get better, got that?”

“Yeah. I got it.” Lucho’s cheeks darkened. He no doubt hated getting dressed down in front of me, of all people.

“Tripp here is going to do whatever we need done in here for a couple days. Sit the hell down and get that foot elevated. I don’t want to have to tell you again.”

Lucho’s gaze bored holes in my skin.

“Got it?” Malloy asked.

“Yes, boss.” Lucho looked past me. “What do you know about horses?”

“I can do all the usual barn chores.” I was pretty surprised he was so chill. Surprised and pleased. “I can groom, muck out stalls, feed, water, mend tack, and—”

“I’ll leave you to it, then.” After giving us a satisfied nod, Malloy left us there, alone.

The second he was gone, Lucho’s expression hardened.

“Get the hell out of my barn. I don’t care what Malloy says. You’re fucking crazy if you think you’re working here.”