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Authors: M.B. Buckner

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BOOK: Sweet Talking Cowboy
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Over the next two years, Slade heard that Hank and his
mother had met when Hank was stationed in Texas while he served his time in the
military.  They’d been crazy about each other, but Hank had been deployed
unexpectedly, when the war in the Middle East heated up and Mela was home to
see her parents for the weekend.  When she returned to her room, she found a
note from Hank telling her he’d been deployed and would get in touch with her
as soon as he could.  She didn’t hear anything from him and within three months
she knew she was pregnant.  Mela moved back home to the reservation.

She’d had no way of knowing Hank had been injured right
after he’d landed and before he even had a chance to write her.  Then he was
sent to a hospital in Germany to recuperate.  His injury had been serious
enough he was eventually discharged and sent home.  It was almost six months
since he’d left Texas.

Hank went straight back there, planning on marrying the
Indian girl who’d stolen his heart, but couldn’t find her.  Mela had given up
the apartment and left no forwarding address.  When he’d finally located her
parents, their distrust of white people became obvious and they refused to tell
him where she lived, only that she didn’t want to marry a white man and would
be happy with her own people.

By the time Mela contacted him and told him he had a son, Hank
had already made a fortune in real estate and married a local socialite and together
they had a small son.

But he’d never stopped loving Mela.  During the two years after
he brought her and Slade to Florida, they’d lived in an apartment near his
office.  She was determined and spent months fighting for her life against a
sickness that seemed to consume her from the inside.  Slade saw the love his
parents shared and when his mother was finally confined to the hospital, his
father remained there with her, right to the end.

After that, Hank moved the boy out to the farm.  Tanya
ranted and raved as riotously as she had over Hank giving the boy his name and
the humiliation of Hank’s obvious devotion to Mela, but her dependence on
Hank’s money won out.  Even though he never moved into the big house with them,
Slade took some of his meals there and existed as Hank’s oldest son.  Slade
found he was much happier sleeping in a small room in the barn and eating with
the ranch hands.  Hank had his room fixed up nice, put in a bathroom and air
conditioning so his son didn’t have to share the communal bathroom the seasonal
workers used or swelter in the summer’s heat.

Slade was content.  He’d rather be around the horses and
cowboys than Tanya and her son Jeffery.  In his mind, he realized his mother
and Hank never married and on the reservation he’d been told he was born on the
wrong side of the blanket.  But now he lived as Slade Butler, Hank Butler’s
oldest son and that’s who he became.

Hank never objected to Slade’s friendship with Mike and Poog,
knowing they filled a space in the boy’s life that he never could, because,
like it or not, he had a life time commitment with Tanya and Jeffery.

A sound caused Slade to turn around and look at the two
women beside the bed.  They both stood quickly, leaning over Mike.  In two
strides he stood beside Briann.  He could see Mike’s mouth was pinched and pale. 
Poog asked if he was in pain, and then from deep inside him, Mike managed a weak
cough, and his breathing eased and he relaxed again.

Relief washed over Briann and she slumped visibly and might
have gone to the floor but for a strong masculine arm that caught her and held her
up.  Resisting her own weakness, as well as his help, she pulled away and
stepped back from the bed.  Slade’s arm had felt so good holding her up that she’d
been tempted to turn toward him and lean against his sturdy chest.

Slade’s eyes followed her for a minute to make sure she remained
steady on her feet, and then he walked around to slip a supporting arm around Poog’s
thin shoulders.  She leaned against him and rested her head back against his
shoulder.  “You know he loves you as much as he would have loved a son of his
own.”

Slade nodded.  “Mike was as much a father to me as Hank has
been, in some ways, more.”

“I don’t think I can do this.”  Poog whispered her voice
breaking as she turned her face into his chest, silent tears soaking into the
fabric of his western shirt.

Slade held her silently and stroked the back of her head,
the knot in his throat discouraging any words of comfort he might have offered.

From across the room, Briann watched their reflection in the
window.  Then a flash of lightening illuminated the outside world and thunder
rattled the shades above the window.  She backed up a step and moved back to her
place across the bed from Aunt Poog and now Slade.

It was a long day.  At one point, when he knew Mike was
resting and breathing easily, Slade left the room and returned a few minutes
later with icy soft drinks for both women.

As night fell, the storm passed and the noise of changing
shifts filled the hospital.  Dr. Franks had ordered meals be sent to the room
and then he appeared in person to encourage those waiting with Mike to eat,
knowing nourishment wouldn’t be a priority with any of them.  He closed the
door and told the nurses not to allow any visitors in.

In his heart, he understood his old friend was resting for a
journey he’d soon take alone.

Daylight was breaking when Poog sensed a change in Mike’s
breathing.  She leaned over him and took his hand.  Mike’s eyes found hers and she
smiled at him.  “I love you, but if you’re ready, go ahead and go home to the
Lord.  I’ve got Briann and Slade here with me.  You know I’ll miss you like
crazy, but I’ll be alright.”

He winked one eye and lightly squeezed her hand before he
closed his eyes.  Slade moved to stand beside Poog, one of his hands holding her
shoulder firmly, Briann on the other side of the bed.  Mike breathed a few more
times, before he stopped, no struggle, just a quiet, peaceful departure.

Poog continued to hold his hand, restraining the tears she knew
would come later.  Right now, she was happy for him that it was finally over. 
After several minutes she leaned down to kiss his lips gently, before she stood
up and looked at Briann, then at Slade.  “He’s finally at peace.”

Briann nodded, tears slipping over her cheeks in spite of her
knowing that he wouldn’t want her to cry.

From his pocket, Slade took a white handkerchief and handed it
across the bed to her.  Briann took it and wiped away the wet trails the tears
left on her cheeks.

A nurse opened the door and came quietly to the bed.  She
felt for a pulse she knew she wouldn’t find, looked at the clock and noted the
time of death for the paperwork that lay ahead.

“Mr. Mike told Dr. Franks who to call and said the
arrangements were already made.  Y’all stay as long as you want.  I won’t call them
until you leave.”   She spoke softly.

“No, sugar,” Poog said.  “Go ahead and make that call.  We’ll
leave when they get here.  He’d want us to go on home.”

The nurse nodded as she slipped quietly from the room.

The next few days were a long blur.  As much as she wanted
to avoid Slade, Briann was thankful he was there for Aunt Poog.  If she even
looked like she needed anything, he took care of it and when the funeral was
over and Mike’s friends and neighbors filled the house, Slade stayed right with
Poog, usually with one strong arm around her, helping her stand.  The rest of
the time he could be found sitting right beside her trying to foresee any need she
might have.  He was the first person at her house every morning and the last
one to leave every night.

Mike’s funeral was attended by many people and Slade was
glad to see his father there and just as relieved that neither Tanya nor Jeffery
put in an appearance.  It would have been uncomfortable for him, but more so
for Briann considering the failed connection she and Jeffery had in their past.

Slade had arranged for two of the men who worked at the
Butler farm to take over the chores that needed doing around the Hudson place. 
They mowed the yard and trimmed the hedges so the yard would look nice for
people coming and going during the visitation and the funeral.  The blue
speckled dog followed the two men around, as if hoping one of them would find
Mike, or take him to where Mike was.  Both men seemed to sense the animal’s
confusion and made every effort to comfort the bewildered creature, in the way only
another cowboy could understand.

Finally the last of the neighbors were gone, the women
having put the house in order before they left and Poog dozed in her chair,
Slade touched her shoulder gently.  “Why don’t you go on to bed?  I know you’re
exhausted.”

She nodded.  “You’re right.”  As she rose and started to the
stairs she looked back.  “Where’s Briann?”

Slade shrugged.  “I don’t know.  I’ll check around outside
and see if she’s there before I leave.  If she’s not there, I’ll assume she’s
gone to bed and lock the door before I go.”

Poog smiled at him.  “I can’t thank you for all you’ve done.”

“Don’t try.  I’ll see you in the mornin’.”  He watched her
climb the stairs, each step dragging wearily.

Stepping out the front door, he welcomed the fresh air and
breathed in deeply.  The Jasmine bush at the end of the porch had bloomed and its
sweet fragrance filled the night.  Glancing around, his sharp eyes caught
movement down at the barn.  Probably Briann, but he would make sure before he
left.

He walked on the soft grass and across the gravel spread on
the driveway as he approached the barn.  Slade could see her clearly, leaning
against the fence, petting one of the horses, the speckled dog at Briann’s
feet.

The horse and the dog observing his approach had alerted
Briann to his presence.

“I just wanted to make sure it was you, so I didn’t lock the
front door and leave you locked out.”  Slade said as she swung her head around
to look at him.

“There’s always the key under the flower pot behind the
swing.”  She said.

He shrugged, stepping up to stroke the big bay’s blazed
face.  “Poog went on up to bed.  She was out on her feet.”

“Thank you for being here for her.  She’s needed you.” 
Briann pushed a wayward strand of hair back over her ear.  There was always one
unruly strand that managed to escape whatever means she used to confine it.  At
least it had remained in the twist she’d so carefully arranged it in, until she
returned home from the funeral.

Slade watched her hand push at the hair, for a moment,
before he took her wrist and gently pulled it away.

Shocked by his touch Briann was unable to object as his
fingers found their way to the back of her head and began pulling out the pins
that held her long hair confined in the severe twist she’d worn it in all day. 
When it was free, Slade combed his fingers through it, watching the silky brown
strands fall almost to her waist, and then handed her the pins.  “It looks
better, now.”

Briann allowed anger to block any other feelings his touch
had awakened in her as she took the proffered pins.  “So now you’re a hair
stylist?”

Slade said nothing, but slipped his arms around her and turned
his head to rest against the top of hers.

She felt him trembling slightly and as he spoke, her arms slipped
around his waist, pulling him closer, her anger melting in the face of his need.

“Bri, what am I gonna do without Mike?  He was more a father
to me than Hank has ever managed to be.”

His voice broke and Briann could only hold him as he
struggled to contain his grief.  For a long time they just stood like that, his
anguish finally surfacing and her arms providing the comfort he craved.

“You’ll be fine, Slade,” she finally said.  “We’ll all be
fine, because he wanted that for us.  You know how much Uncle Mike cared about
you.  He helped guide you into the man you’ve become, and he was always so proud
of you.  Your friendship and respect meant more to him than you can imagine.”  Briann
realized it wasn’t smart to stand here in the darkness alone, just the two of
them, locked in this embrace, but Slade had been so strong through all this. 
She hadn’t even considered how he was hurting, and now, she couldn’t refuse to
give him the comfort he needed.

Neither of them had any sense of time, neither thinking
beyond this moment, this need. In the distance, an owl hooted and mice
everywhere within hearing scurried for cover.  Far off a dog barked and Speck
growled softly.  The scent of horses mingled with the smell of the night
blooming jasmine and Briann almost smiled at the feeling of homecoming that
flowed over her through the nearly forgotten sounds and odors of her childhood.
 Even the smell of Slade was a memory of her youth.

She was overwhelmed by the strength of his arms.  They were
so strong, yet so gentle.  Like the scent of him.  A deeply masculine aroma,
tempered with a mildly sweet, spicy odor and just a hint of leather.  She
closed her eyes and tried not to remember, but the memories swept her back in
time and she couldn’t block out the sweetness of Slade’s lips against her neck
or the wish to feel them against her own again.  She struggled to remember why she
was standing here in the dark wrapped in his arms.

Slade was startled by the sudden desire that seemed to push
every other thought from his mind.  He could feel her in his arms, smell the fragrance
that belonged to Briann alone, remember the fire that flashed through his veins
when their lips met.  He couldn’t let that happen now.  He’d wanted only
comfort and she’d given it, he wouldn’t let it become passion.  He knew she needed
him to remember what this embrace was all about.  What he was beginning to experience
would just have to wait for the right time, and this was not it.

Reluctantly he stepped back, his eyes holding hers for only
a moment before he turned.  “Thanks, Bri.  Good night.”

BOOK: Sweet Talking Cowboy
7.88Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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