Drawn to a Cowboy (Brother Duet #1) (24 page)

A
fter forty years from the start of their movie careers together, the Cowboy-unga Bunch was being inducted into the Western Film Cowboy Hall of Fame. We as a couple of grownups out for the night—away from our children—attended. Seated in a plush theatre dressed in a beaded gown next to my handsome husband in a tuxedo wearing a black cowboy hat, we clapped like mad as a film montage featuring the group ended.

They had all been in several movies, but as a whole ensemble, the cowpokes had rode together in six films. The cowboy equivalent, critics said, to the popular
Fast and Furious
franchise. The guys—Tex Cassidy, Wes Colburn, Wyatt Cromby, Jack Evans and Jesse McGraw—all laughed at the comparison and coined themselves the Slow with True Horsepower gang. Watching the many clips, it was incredible to see the changes in their looks—less hair on their heads, more hair on their faces, body shapes, boys to men they remarked instead of mentioning their weight gain.

It was great to see all of them—minus Carson Crosby—sitting side by side in front of us, ribbing each other. Once the presentation had concluded and they were welcoming them up to the stage to receive commemorative statues, Tex pulled me up along with Bonnie, who had starred in all but two of their movies. I shook my head no, but Jinxie and Sage pushed me forward to go up on stage with them and accept on behalf of my father. They all said a little something while I stood looking down at the award that was placed in my hands. I felt proud and sad to be his daughter all at once. I wished he was with them, but I was happy that everyone knew what a wonderful man my dad, Carson, had been.

Hollywood learned about me and his longtime love, Jinxie—the daughter of Western royalty Tex Cassidy and Bonnie Lane—as soon as the news spread about the Crosby twins not being blood related to Carson. And their announcement that the findings were incorrect and that I was trying to steal their inheritance. A very public testing of all three of us confirmed that there had been no mistake. I was the sole biological heir to Carson Crosby’s Estate. That incited the media to swarm for an interview with Jinxie and me. Giving them what they wanted, we committed to a one time magazine spread and then asked to be left alone. Luckily, they didn’t bother us after we laid it all out on the table with Jinxie providing them with old photos of the three of us together.

Besides, we were pretty boring compared to “Hank’s two bastards,” as Sage called them, as they did not leave quietly despite the results. Before the lawyers got everything stripped from the twins—all of their rights to his estate; movie royalties and properties along with a hefty trust—they hurried to use funds that no longer belonged to them. Being a much nicer person, I agreed they wouldn’t have to return the money even though the lawyers were pushing for it. However, I did take ownership of the properties that they had purchased and could no longer maintain. With the sale of them, I came close to recouping the lost inheritance. Those monies I donated to an old actors’ facility that housed many of my grandfather’s older acquaintances, and to a cowboy museum that housed some of the Cowboy-unga Bunch’s memorabilia.

After the induction, we took our troops back to the country with the help of Clay and Norma who had made the trip with us. They had quickly agreed to accompany us when we asked them if they would provide a bit of wrangling of our three little ones in the California sunshine. Who could blame them when the award season in Hollywood usually boasted a balmy eighty degree temperature—a drastic change from our typical February weather; low twenties to high fifties at the ranch.

Walking into the lodge for some hot cocoa and dessert, I was overcome with warmth. Not because the fireplace was roaring, but because I was home and looking at the memory of two people that gave me the life that I had always longed for since I was a little girl growing up at the beach. Of course, Sage was instrumental, bringing me to the ranch for a painting job that I loved doing. However, my favorite painting was done when I returned to the ranch to live as Mrs. Donovan.

I was never completely happy with the painting I had created to be placed above the lobby fireplace mantle before I left—ran away. I knew it needed something more, something right. Once I returned, it hit me as Norma presented me with several photos of my parents on the ranch, together and separate. Looking through them I knew what had been missing as soon as I saw the perfect photo. I spent days making sure it was right. I knew that it was going to be the centerpiece of the lobby in the lodge over the grand fireplace.

In the composition Jinxie is standing with her back against Carson’s chest and his arms are wrapped around her tightly. They were in the meadow and a horse was behind them looking in the same direction as they did. The mountain range is in the background and a hint of the lake is seen below. It looked like a staged pose, Norma assured me it wasn’t. Some guest had just captured them and had mailed it to the ranch after he had returned home, along with a thank you card. She said it was easy to snap a perfect photo of them as they were always together when they were at the ranch and often touching in some way.

“The love between them was so strong, like it is with you and Sage, Mrs. Donovan.”
I love when she calls me that playfully. And I love being married to my cowboy even more.

And even though we eloped to the same chapel where my grandparents got hitched many years before us, we celebrated at the big end of summer party with guests, staff, friends and family. Spencer flew in to overlook the feast along with their
perfectly-matched
parents, Tex and Bonnie, Jinxie and a couple of my friends. Phoebe set up a business endeavor with Spencer while she created a cake with two pairs of cowboy boots, his and hers. Lark flew in with a special delivery: a white lace party dress for me and custom jewelry by Tomasina, a friend of Lark’s through their mutual friend Willow. Sage had a necklace made with a jade and diamond pendant that matched my ring as a wedding present. I surprised him with a flat platinum wedding band inlaid with a strip of jade around the middle, created by our local downtown jeweler.

Celebrating in style, in the usual spot that wedding receptions were held on the ranch, we checked off a few traditional items on—our coordinator—Norma’s list: The toasts, a delicious dinner, the cake cutting, and, of course, dancing.

Taking to the floor with my handsome groom, I remembered the first and last time that we had danced together at some guests’ wedding. He was just as handsome in our own celebratory moment in time as he was when he spun me around the floor, but it was better to know that he was mine for all eternity. As before he sang to me, better words on our wedding spin, “I do… cherish you… for the rest of my life… love you still… beyond control… I love you…” I was swooning right there in his arms with a goofy, giddy look on my face, I was certain, for all to see, and I didn’t care one bit.
I love my cowboy!

Finishing our first dance as man and wife, Tex cut in as a song began about I loved her first, “This is my time, listen to the words, boy.” Sage laughed, agreed with him and stepped back. As the song played, I instantly thought of Carson and it felt like his presence was all around as images of him flooded my brain. “Thinking about him?” my grandfather asked as he kissed my forehead.

Could Tex read my mind? “Yes, I feel him. Sometimes I swear I see him. I have lots of good memories.”

“I remember him at the house when you were off to a dance and he nearly scared your date off giving him a list of warnings.”

“That boy didn’t even kiss me goodnight.” We laughed.

Stepping forward, stepping back and twirling, we moved around the wooden planked deck under strung twinkling lights. “I wish they were open about their relationship. Wish you could’ve called him Dad…”

Cutting him off, I looked up at him, nearly stopping our movement, “Why? I’ve never called Jinxie, mom—ever!”

He nodded, pulling me a little closer, continuing to lead me. “That’s true. But still.”

I could tell he was feeling melancholy, maybe even envisioning his good pal, Carson. I knew the loss was very hard for him too. “He was a good dad to me, Tex… grandpa.” As I said that I thought about how Carson often said, casually, “Love you always, kid,” and I never missed a beat, responding with “love you too.” I’m so happy I said that back. To me he was the father I never had—the irony. I loved him and I always thought he loved me, I never realized just how much he did.

“He definitely was protective, adoring of you. He loved you to pieces that was for sure. Anyone could see that. He would’ve loved to be in my place right now, I’m sure of that. Is it selfish of me to love this moment with you?” I felt a tear hit my shoulder.

“Thanks, and not at all. I love dancing with you for my father-daughter dance,” I said as I put my head against his chest and he sang (I loved that the men in my life always graced me with borrowed lyrics from their own lips): “Means the world to me… be careful when you hold my girl… life must go on… I loved her first…” before he turned me back over to my patiently waiting husband with tears in his eyes that matched ours.

Taking me into his arms, finishing the last part of the song, he begged me to stop crying, while he sniffled, “No more waterworks, my guys are going to give me hell if you have me crying all the time. Not to mention I don’t want our cowboys or cowgirls to think their dad is a big wimpy cowhand.”

“Ha! They will think you are a wonderful and caring man. I’ll bet that they see a few tears shed over their booboos, heartaches, not to mention their birth.”

“Stop!” he protested quietly. “Don’t make them grow up so fast.” I smiled into his shoulder, imagining him sharing in all of their milestones and I was right, he cried along with me a few months later.

Exactly nine months after the night we spent in our tent surrounded by a thunder and lightning storm, on an appropriately wintry night, our twin girls, Trixie and Minxie arrived. Two years later, Hank Carson was born. I loved that we had used my father’s two names for our son and that our daughters had “xie” in their names like my mother who adored all of them and came to stay often.

Jinxie finally selected a plan for cabin number five big enough for her, Tex and Bonnie and her new man, actually her husband. I guess, I better tell the correct story about how the house and the husband came to be. Jinxie took all five sets of the architectural renderings out to the field and stood in the middle. Throwing them up as high as she could in the air, she said, “Okay Hank, you pick but know that it is only going to be a summer thing!” Then she laughed as she watched which design remained closest and which took off. “It figures!” I heard her say when two plans sat at her feet. “Still giving me choices!” She ended up selecting the one that suited her best and once she broke ground in more ways than one—a romance began too.

Being back at the ranch overseeing the construction of her place, Paisley Crane (I kid you not on that perfect contractor name), told her he had a crush on her. He had been Hank’s friend and contractor for years; handling the new construction and past jobs—his grandfather had been the original contractor for the ranch. She knew him as a married man, never had children. Like Jinxie, he too lost the love of his life a couple years before Hank passed. She told him she was willing to give it a shot but let him know that she was a seasonal gal and that she was Jinxie not Ginnylee. Actually, she told everyone one night that Ginnylee died with Hank. Sage had a bit of a challenge remembering until our kids screamed her arrival.

Jinxie graced us with her presence when the ground defrosted and kissed us goodbye as the tree leaves began to paint themselves in various shades. She did pop in for a few milestone as Carson had for me; birthdays, Christmas and Easter were never missed, and if there was something else she deemed a special moment, or she just missed us.

Off the ranch, she touched down at the beach house compound to see Tex and Bonnie from time to time, but not for long. It turned out that Paisley loved Jinxie’s adventurous side and the surfing safari lifestyle. She turned her country man into a surfer and they hit the trail. Traveling with the weather and surf worked out perfectly for his business which mainly was during the summers as he had to build according to the snow fall. Though he never had his own family, he got an instant one with us, and he seemed to love it.

I loved to watch my children and how much they were loved. After finishing a horseback ride with a few day riders, I walked toward a meadow that was filled with noise. A tractor was in motion with Clay behind the wheel and two kids at a time riding along while others laughed and giggled and screamed happily waiting for their turn. Norma had the non-riders circling her. Two of them I knew to be mine by the twirling accompanied by squeals and claps, something they inherited from their mother, me. My son was one of the kids riding along on the tractor, I knew his cowpoke hat anywhere. I smiled to myself, Clay always made me think of Carson and he always made Sage think of Hank.

Then I wondered what life would’ve been like with Carson. Would it be like my kids’ lives were, starting out in the life I always wanted? Delighting in the simple joys in the country: Going to egg farms, collecting eggs from chickens—not getting ones that were already in cartons. Buying milk and cheese from a dairy; milking a cow, learning to make butter and ice cream while surrounded by hundreds of cows. Then I had to question myself, would they be like me wanting something different? Of course, they would want adventure—they had Jinxie blood running through their veins, but would they dream of city life like I dreamt of country life?

With a gust of wind whipping up the cut grass and leaves, came the scent of a certain handsome cowboy that belonged to me. Grinning, my innocent thoughts ran to a day on the ranch not long after we had returned as a married couple with a pair of babies on the way. As I watched the tractor rides continue, I could see Sage on that same machine as I walked out to find him. There was a hot cowboy sitting atop a tractor shirtless plowing a field, only jeans, boots, and a hat.
Hot damn!
My pregnant woman hormones were raging as I stood with my hands on my hips waiting for him to see me. “Is that necessary?” I asked when he drove close to me and shut off the motor.