Cowboys, Cowboys, Cowboys

by D'Ann Lindun

  “The bottle,” Lyle said.

  She frowned. “Why didn’t you ask before?”

  “I like to watch you walk.”

  Heat crawled up her neck and face. “Seriously? “Serious as a heart attack,” the cowboy said.

  The Ute gulped his drink, then coughed. “I gotta use the men’s room.”

  With a huff, Sarah spun on her heel and marched over to the bar. She grabbed the bottle and stomped back to the cowboy. His friend had vanished. Resisting the urge to pour the drink over his head, she set it in front of him with exaggerated care. “Will that be it?”

  “No.”

  She gritted her teeth. “What?” “Your name? I didn’t catch it.”

  “I didn’t give it.” She knew he was baiting her, but for some reason she didn’t walk away.

  “You have one?” His gray eyes reminded her of summer storm clouds.

  “Do you?” she shot back.

  He hesitated a moment. “Lyle Landry.”

  She hid her shock. The ex-world champion saddle bronc rider. The same guy who’d gone to prison for murder.

  “I see you know my name,” he said bitterly.

  “Yeah, because you won the National Finals ten years ago.” Sarah didn’t know why she left out that he was a convicted killer. Maybe because she’d once rodeoed herself, she understood his drive. Not that she condoned murder in any kind of way.

  Surprise flitted across his face before it set in granite lines. “I’m going to win it again.” His quiet proclamation didn’t sound like a boast, but a vow.

  “I bet you will.” What was wrong with her? This guy had killed someone, done hard time for his act. She had no business encouraging him. “I need to get back to work.”

  He nodded. “Your name?”

  She turned away, then looked over her shoulder. “Sarah Reed.”

  “Good to know you, Sarah Reed.” A ghost of a smile flitted across his face before his granite mask slid back in place.

  Sarah hurried away, unsettled by the encounter. A convicted killer should not be the first man to interest her since she moved to Sheep Springs. After what happened to Daddy, Mama would roll over in her grave if she knew Sarah had thought twice about someone like Lyle Landry.

  As she wiped down the counter and rinsed glasses before sticking them in the dishwasher, her gaze kept going to the tall, moody man in the black hat. She tried to recall what happened that sent him to prison but couldn’t quite remember.

  “You’re deep in thought,” the other waitress commented. Nodding in the mysterious cowboy’s direction, she said,

  “Do you know him? Lyle Landry?”

  Angie’s heavily made up eyes widened. “He’s here? I’ve heard the rumors, but I didn’t believe them.”

  “Rumors?”

  “I’ve been told what he did to the guy dumb enough to sleep with his wife,” Angie whispered.

  “What?” Sarah’s stomach knotted.

  “Snapped his neck.” Angie made a breaking motion. “With his bare hands.”

  “Dear God.” The glass Sarah had been holding slipped through her fingers and shattered on the floor. She knelt to pick up the bigger pieces with numb fingers. One of the shards sliced open her middle finger and blood appeared along the thin line. “Damn. I cut myself.”

  “Go wash it. I’ll get this.” Angie shooed her away.

  After Sarah cleaned and bandaged her finger, she exited the ladies’ room. Not paying attention to where she was going, she bumped into a mountain of a man. “Oops, sorry.”

  “Not a problem,” a familiar voice said, and she looked up into the cloudy gray eyes of Lyle Landry.

  She averted her gaze and licked her bottom lip. “Excuse me.”

  He stepped aside. “Of course.”

  As she brushed past, he said. “There’s no need to be afraid of me.”

  “I’m not.” She lifted her chin and met his steely gaze.

  “Liar.”

  She fisted her hands on her hips. “I don’t lie.” “Prove it.”

  “How?”

  “Have dinner with me tomorrow night.”

  She gulped. “I can’t.”

  “Can’t, or won’t?”

  “Both,” she said honestly.

  His gaze raked over her left ring finger. “You married?”

  “No.” Her voice squeaked.

  “Engaged?”

  “No,” she managed. “Got a boyfriend?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “Then you’re scared.” He turned away. “I get it.”

  Before she could think it through, her hand flew out and grabbed his shirtsleeve. “What time?”

  As he spun toward her, the dark clouds in his eyes lightened a little. “Seven sharp. Where do you live?”

  “Figure it out, cowboy.” Before he could respond, she flounced away.

  “You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Angie peered into her face with curiosity.

  Sarah avoided her friend’s piercing gaze. “I just accepted a date with Lyle Landry.”

  Angie gasped and grabbed her arm. “Are you crazy?” “Apparently.” Sarah couldn’t explain why she’d agreed to go out with the convict to herself, much less to her friend. “Cancel, right now. While he’s still here.” Angie squeezed harder.

  “No. I’m not going to do that.” Sarah glanced in the cowboy’s direction and he dipped his head slightly. “I’m going to give him a chance to do something wrong before I condemn him.”

  “Then I hope you don’t wind up dead,” Angie muttered. “I won’t,” Sarah told her with more confidence than she felt.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Chaco dropped Lyle off at the small house provided by Bailey McKlellan with a promise to check in tomorrow night.

  A short note on the table told him to make himself at home, including driving the truck in the driveway and riding any of the horses in the barn. Bailey was at a rodeo and would be home the day after tomorrow.

  Lyle paced around the one-bedroom cottage like a caged lion. He turned on the lights, then off. He opened the fridge, closed it, only to open the door again. Although the house was small, it was clean, efficient and four times the size of his cell.

  He couldn’t stop moving. Testing the sofa, then the TV. Nothing appealed to him, so he clicked it off and tuned the radio to an old country station. Tanya Tucker’s smoky voice filled the room, reminding him of the waitress at the bar. Her voice had a husky quality to it that made his skin tighten.

  Not to mention a great figure that heated his blood. It had been a flash of hot lust that made him ask her out. A momentary lack of judgment. Something he could ill afford. He should call and cancel. But he hadn’t gotten a contact number, and even if he had, he didn’t want to call off their date.

  They’d go out, eat a steak and part ways.

  His gut clenched at the idea.

  But it had to be that way. He couldn’t get involved with anyone.

  Maybe a shower would help him settle down. He walked into the clean bathroom, stripped and stepped under steaming water. For the first time in ten years, he had all the hot water he wanted and no one watching him as he showered. He dipped his head and let the water run over his head and down his back until his tense muscles relaxed.

  The water began to cool, and he reluctantly turned off the nozzle and grabbed a towel. Chaco had stored his clothes and Lyle dug through the duffle bag for shorts, a plain grey T- shirt and a faded pair of Wranglers.

  Barefoot, he walked into the kitchen and rummaged in the cabinets. Bailey had stocked themwith a few cans of soup, chili, crackers and peanut butter. Not much, but a hell of a lot better than the slop he’d been eating. He grabbed the peanut butter and crackers and nibbled a few as he stood in the kitchen, looking out into the dark night. Morning couldn’t come fast enough to suit him.

  His new life began with the rising sun.

  ~*~

  By early evening Sarah was freaking out about her date. What had made he
r accept? Going out with a convicted killer wasn’t high on her bucket list, but something in Lyle’s gray eyes had touched her. She shook her head. Crazy. She would go because she said she would, but only somewhere public and well lit.

  She should have met him somewhere instead of letting him know where she lived. In a town the size of Sheep Springs hiding wasn’t exactly top priority. If Lyle wanted to find her, he would.

  No more had the thought crossed her mind than someone knocked. She wiped her hands down her jeans and walked to the door on trembling legs. After taking a deep breath, she opened it. Lyle stood there, holding a small bouquet of wildflowers with a white ribbon tied around them. Their sweet scent filled the evening air.

  She reached for them with a shaking hand. “Thank you.” “You’re welcome.”

  His husky voice sent shockwaves

  through her.“I need to put these in water.” She turned away from the door. “It will just be a moment. Come in.”

  He stepped inside and removed his black Stetson. “Nice place.”

  She moved into the kitchen, found a small vase and filled it with water. “Thanks.”

  To her relief, he stood next to the door not coming all the way inside. After she arranged the flowers, she put them on the table. “They’re beautiful.”

  “Do you have a jacket?”

  She nodded. “Sure. Why?” “You might need one.”

  “Where are we going?” She grabbed a jean jacket from the back of a chair.

  “You’ll see.” He hesitated. “It’s a surprise.”

  Could she trust him not to take her into the woods and strangle her? He wasn’t a serial killer she reminded herself. “Okay.”

  They walked to his truck together and she noticed the logo on the side—McKlellan Ranch. “You’re working for Ewan McKlellan’s daughter?”

  “Yeah. She’s an old friend.” Lyle opened the door and she slid onto the seat. “You know Bailey?”

  “No. We’ve never met.” Just by reputation and on sight. The woman sometimes came into the bar with her friends. She was hard to miss with honey colored hair, light green eyes and the figure of a heartbreaker. The kind to make a cowboy’s heart beat fast. Sarah’s stomach took a dive. What did it matter? She didn’t want to get tangled up with him anyway. It should come as a relief, not disappointment, that he’d soon be out of her hair.

  Lyle turned the big truck out of town. “What brings you to Sheep Springs?”

  She hesitated. “It seemed like a good place to start over.”

  “I know a bit about that,” he said.

  Not knowing how to respond, she stayed silent. How did one go about rebuilding their lives after a stint in prison? The same way she was, maybe. Although she’d done nothing wrong, she’d had to start over, too.

  After a few miles Lyle turned off the main road onto a dirt lane. A wooden arch over the gate said McKlellan Ranch. She’d never been here before and took in her surroundings. Split rail fences lined pastures filled with horses she knew were bucking stock. Ewan McKlellan, and now his daughter, supplied broncs for rodeos.

  They drove past an impressive ranch house and several outbuildings to a barn. Lyle parked in front of the structure. “Would you like to ride?”

  “I’d love to.” A lump formed in her throat. She hadn’t been in the saddle since she’d been forced to sell everything—even her beloved sorrel gelding—to pay the bills Brandon left when he took off.

  Lyle stepped out of the truck, came around and opened her door. “I thought you might.”

  “How?”

  He shrugged. “Most ladies like horses.”

  “I love them. I’ve owned at least one my entire life.” She walked beside him, almost dancing with excitement.

  “But not now?”

  “No.” Her happiness dimmed. “I had to sell him when I moved.”

  “That’s rough,” he said. “Yeah.”

  He ducked into a tack room and grabbed two bridles then led the way to stalls lining the alley. Inside the first one was a buckskin gelding. Lyle stepped inside and bridled the horse. “This guy is for you.”

  Sarah took the reins and patted the horse’s slick neck. “What a beauty. What’s his name?”

  “Chase because you have to chase him to catch him. Step on and I’ll see if your stirrups are right.”

  She led the horse into the aisle and did as Lyle asked. The saddle fit as if made for her. The lump in her throat returned. Would she ever have a horse of her own again? “Perfect.”

  “I’ll get Topsy.” He led out a bay gelding and mounted. “Ready?”

  “Yes.”

  Side-by-side, they rode out of the barn and headed for an open field. Their knees bumped, sending Sarah’s pulse into overdrive. She reined the gelding away so a few inches separated the horses.

  The sun had begun to dip into the western sky turning the mountaintops pink. “What a gorgeous evening.”

  “It is,” Lyle agreed. “Too nice to be cooped up.”

  She shot him a sideways glance. What had it been like in prison for a man like him, used to being in the great outdoors? Horrible, probably. “I agree.”

  At a fence line, he dismounted and opened a gate. She rode through and he closed it behind him. They ambled toward a small herd of horses that threw their heads up and watched their approach.

  “Are these bucking stock?”

  He nodded. “Looks like it.”

  She patted Chase’s neck. “I didn’t know they kept saddle horses here, too.”

  “Ewan always kept a few around for roundups and pleasure rides. I guess Bailey’s kept the tradition alive.”

  A little knot of jealousy formed in her stomach. The woman had a herd of horses, a ranch and this man if she chose. He would no doubt take one look at the sexy stock contractor and forget Sarah ever existed.

  Lyle nudged his horse into a gentle lope, scattering the broncs. Sarah urged Chase along, too. Snorting, the herd tore away with tails high. Lyle and Sarah trailed them for a few hundred yards before dropping back into a walk.

  “That was fun,” she said.

  He smiled, and for a moment she stared. His face transformed from harsh lines of granite into softer planes. Even his eyes lightened a little. Her breath caught and she forced her gaze toward the distant mountains.

  At yet another gate Lyle let them through and remounted. He led the way along a faint deer trail toward a stand of quaking aspens. The sun had fallen behind the peaks, making the slender trunks look ghostly in the dim light.

  As they wound their way into the middle of the stand, she saw a small stock pond fed by a trickling stream. A fish jumped for a meal on top of the still water making ripples when he landed. A bird took flight, but otherwise the evening was still.

  Dismounting, Lyle turned toward her. “I thought we’d eat here if that’s okay with you?”

  “Looks great.” She slid from Chase’s back and tied him to one of the slender trunks next to Topsy. “You brought food?”

  He moved to the saddlebags on his saddle. “Hotdogs,

  chips. Beer.”

  Her stomach growled, reminding her she’d been too nervous to eat earlier. “Sounds good.”

  “It’s nothing fancy.” He removed items from the saddlebags.

  “I’m not hard to please.” She didn’t tell him about the times she ate soup because it was cheap, hot and filling.

  “I’ll build a fire.” Lyle moved away to gather rocks and firewood.

  She helped him and in moments they had a circle of rocks to keep their fire contained. He found a few dry sticks and placed them in a pyramid inside the circle of stones. Kneeling, he lit the wood.

  Sarah held her palms over the flames. “That feels good.” “Are you cold?”

  “No.” Even though the evening air was chilly she felt warm.

  He moved away again, returning in a few moments with two green sticks. Taking a small knife from his pocket, he whittled sharp points on the sticks. He handed her one. “Thi
s ought to do.”

  “It’s perfect.” She opened the package of hotdogs, placed one on the stick and held it over the flames. “I used to do this a lot with—” She caught herself. My dad. Her father was the last person she wanted to talk about with Lyle.

  “Someone special?” Lyle sounded slightly jealous.

  “My dad,” she told him reluctantly. “We liked to fish, and we always took along hotdogs to roast.”

  “You still go?” Lyle stuck his own stick over the fire.

  “No. My father died.” At the hands of a convenience store robber. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He adjusted his stick. “My dad is gone, too. Heart attack at forty-seven. Guess he couldn’t

  handle his only son going to prison for murder.”

  “I’m sorry,” Sarah managed, shocked by his matter-of-fact tone.

  “Not your fault. Nobody to blame but my temper.” He braced his stick on a log and stood to grab two beers from his supplies. He handed her one. “Lesson learned the hard way.”

  She stared into the flames, unsure what to say. Why did you do it? Was she worth it? Ten years behind bars?

  Almost as if she’d spoken aloud, he spoke. “Today I’d turn and walk away. Back then, I punched first and asked questions later. Learned it from my old man.”

  Sarah lifted her shocked gaze to his. “He hit you?”

  “Every day.” Lyle drank from his bottle. “Me. My mom.

  My brother.”

  “I can’t imagine...” She thought of her dad who had cherished both Sarah and her sister. He had never had the heart to even discipline them, leaving that chore to their mother.

  “Thanks.” He drank again. “I found my salvation in bucking horses. Guy I knew wanted me to ride some rank colts, and the harder they bucked the better I liked it. That same man took me to a rodeo where he signed me up for saddlebroncs, bareback broncs and bull riding. Liked them all, but it was the saddlebroncs that grabbed me and held on. I was hooked.”

  “And you became world champion.”

  He lifted his hotdog from the fire and placed it in a bun. “You ready for bread?” At her nod, he held a bun open for her. “Not overnight. Took me three long years to get the hang of it. I got bucked off a lot before I started sticking.”