The Last Good Cowboy

by Kate Pearce

  HW swung around and poked a finger way too close to Ry’s face. “Those people are looking out for me, and my career. They care about me. You’re just pulling this stunt because you’re jealous.”

  “You’ve been talking to Lally too much. You’re my twin. I’ve spent my whole life supporting you. Trouble is, you’re not interested in what I have to say anymore, and that’s fine because, trust me, I’m sick and tired of saying it.”

  HW took a step back and a deep, shuddering breath. “Look. At least stay until I find out whether I qualify or not.”

  “I can’t. I promised Chase I’d be back this week.”

  “You promised Mom you’d always be there for me.”

  Ry met his twin’s gaze head-on. “How about just for once, you let something be about me?”

  HW looked down at his feet. “Do you need money? Can I pay you to stay?”

  Ry marched over to the door. “Get out.”

  “What the hell’s wrong now?”

  “If that’s what you’ve become—if that’s how you think you keep a man’s loyalty, then go back to that bunch of losers you surround yourself with, and see what happens when you can’t pay them anymore.”

  “Screw you.” HW walked out.

  “Right back at you, bro,” Ry muttered under his breath, and then turned to survey his pile of boxes.

  He’d said things he hadn’t meant to say out loud, and HW had . . . changed beyond recognition. His brother was still caught up in being a rising star, and the better he did, the more hangers-on he’d acquire. He didn’t need Ry. That was certain, but it still hurt.

  They’d never spent more than a month apart in their entire lives, and now HW would be off competing in Texas next week, and Ry would be back on the ranch working with Roy. Unless HW followed through on his promise to attend Chase and January’s wedding in a couple of months, he might never see his twin again.

  He couldn’t let himself think like that or he’d be chasing after his brother, begging to tag along for another few months. It was up to HW to get his shit together. He was not Ry’s responsibility.

  “Yeah, right. Thanks for loading that on me, Mom.”

  He checked all the drawers, picked up his hat, and propped open the bedroom door with his backpack. There was no sound of HW or his girlfriend in the apartment. HW tended to storm out when he lost an argument, so there was no surprise there. He hadn’t even had a chance to tell his twin that their mom and baby sister might still be alive twenty years after disappearing from the ranch.

  Ry picked up a stack of boxes, set off for the front door, leaving that ajar as well, and used his elbow to call the elevator. It wasn’t too busy in the complex during the day as most people worked, so he had no trouble getting the boxes and bags down to his truck.

  On his last trip upstairs he paused in the kitchen to grab a couple of cold water bottles from the refrigerator, and contemplated the silence. Neither Lally nor HW had made any effort to clean up yet. They were probably too used to him doing it. Not anymore. He checked his room again, making sure he hadn’t forgotten anything, and then sat at the kitchen table to write HW a note.

  Rent is paid until the end of the lease, which is up next month. I’ve contacted the leasing company about taking my name off, so I’m sure you’ll be hearing from them when you renegotiate.

  Ry sat back and contemplated what to say next. He wasn’t going to drop the bombshell about their mom in a letter. That was something HW needed to hear in person. Ry still couldn’t believe it himself.

  Good luck in the saddle bronc events, and hope you make it to the finals in Vegas. Call me when you get a chance—you know where I am. Ry

  He anchored the note under the salt and pepper and slowly stood up. There was so much he wanted to say, and so little his twin currently wanted to hear . . . He had to remember that inside HW there was a good, kind, and amazing guy—the guy he’d grown up with and loved with all his heart. Someday that HW would resurface, Ry had to believe that.

  He unhooked the front-door key from his chain, laid it on top of the letter, and walked out, his throat tight and his emotions all over the place. Part of him felt like he was abandoning his twin, but the rest of him?

  Suddenly felt free.

  Chapter Two

  Morgantown, California

  “Avery? Are you okay?”

  Avery Hayes opened her eyes to find she’d finally reached the bottom of the stairs. She’d tripped over one of the darn cats on the top step and fallen awkwardly, her hands occupied with carrying a huge pile of clean towels.

  “Avery!”

  She smiled at her mom, Sally, who was now crouched down beside her, her face ashen and her fingers gripping hard around Avery’s wrist.

  “Tom!” her mom bellowed. For such a small woman she had a big voice. “Call 911! Get help!”

  “I’m fine, Mom. The towels broke my fall.” That was pretty much the truth, apart from a couple of minor twinges that she would prefer to investigate in the privacy of her own room rather than at the local ER.

  Her mom continued calling out for her father. “Tom!”

  “Mom . . . if you’d just move out of the way, I’ll get up. There’s nothing wrong, really, just chill, okay?”

  She placed a hand on her mom’s shoulder and gently pushed her back before attempting to stand. She had to clutch at the banister as her left leg decided not to cooperate, but that wasn’t unusual, and she powered through the pain.

  “Avery, you are not fine. Now, let’s find your father, and we’ll go to the hospital ourselves. It will probably be quicker anyway.”

  “I’m good.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  Avery took a deep breath. “Don’t do this, okay? I’m a big girl. If I was hurt, I’d go to the ER, but I’m not. I’m just shaken up a bit. Nothing is broken.”

  “How would you know?”

  Avery raised her eyebrows, and her mom was the first to look away.

  “Sorry, darling.” She patted Avery’s arm. “How about I call that nice Dr. Mendez? He could just pop round, and—”

  Avery turned her back on her mother and concentrated on picking up the towels. She needed time to compose herself, and folding was always soothing. It reminded her of being a kid and being pressed into service to fold hundreds of linen napkins for fancy dinners at the hotel her parents still owned.

  “What’s going on?”

  Great. Now her dad was here as well. A wall of parental concern surrounded Avery. She met her dad’s anxious gaze.

  “I slipped on the stairs. That’s all.”

  “You’re sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m fine. I’m going to take these towels back to the laundry. They’ll need washing again, but at least the stairs got a good dusting.”

  “Come and find me if you need to go to the ER or anything.”

  “Will do, Dad.”

  Her mom opened her mouth as if to protest, but luckily her dad muttered something under his breath and distracted her.

  Avery concentrated on walking smoothly away, which wasn’t easy seeing as she really had come down hard on her left hip. Shattered bones never worked the same again. She knew that, as did her parents, but she didn’t want their concern right now. Sometimes she felt smothered.

  She dropped the towels into one of the bags to be picked up by the laundry guys, and contemplated the steep back stairs. If she wanted to check for damage, she needed to get up there. She didn’t want her parents seeing her struggle, because then she’d be hog-tied and taken straight to the hospital whether she wanted to go or not.

  “You okay, sis?”

  She turned to find her older brother, Tucker, smiling at her. He acted as the deputy manager of the hotel, and basically did all the stuff no one else wanted to do. He had the patience of a saint, and she loved him to bits.

  “Can you help me with something, and not tell the parents?”

  “It depends what it is.”

  A typical answer fr
om her always cautious brother—which was what made him so good at his job.

  “Could you help me up the stairs?”

  His smile disappeared. “What’s wrong?”

  Avery let out an exasperated breath. “Look, I banged my hip, I just want to put an ice pack on it and sit down for an hour without Mom and Dad acting as if I’m about to die, okay?”

  He strolled toward her and she tensed.

  “Hold on, sis.” He picked her up. “Let’s go.”

  “I didn’t mean—”

  “This is easier for me. And good practice for when I want to rescue some damsel in distress like in all those sappy historical movies you make me watch.”

  He started up the stairs, puffing a little when they reached the top.

  “Jeez, Avery, lay off the pastries.”

  “You’re just a slob, bro. I’m as light as a feather.” She leaned down to open her bedroom door, and he carried her inside, dumping her gently on the bed, right side first.

  “Thanks.” Avery sighed. “Just don’t tell them, okay?”

  When he reached the door he hesitated, his expression concerned. “They worry about you.”

  “I know. And don’t tell me it’s because they love me. I know that. It’s just sometimes they won’t let me breathe, or do anything without getting superanxious. It’s been three years since I had a single surgery. I’m doing great.”

  “I know you are.”

  “Then tell them that.”

  He leaned against the doorframe. “They watched that horse fall on top of you; we all did. It was a damn miracle you even survived.”

  “But I did, and now I just want to live my life like a normal person, and they just worry about me so much.” She swallowed hard. “I’m worried that one day I’ll just lose it and tell them to leave me alone forever.”

  “Yeah?” He contemplated her for a long moment. “I won’t say anything, but I’ll bring you up an ice pack. Anything else you need?”

  “Nope, I’m good.”

  He nodded and went into the hallway, leaving the door ajar. Within a couple of minutes he was back with an industrial-size bag of ice, which he left in a bucket beside her bed, three sealed plastic bags, and a couple of towels. All the Hayes kids had competed in the rodeo at some point, so they all knew the drill.

  “You got something for the pain?”

  “Yup.”

  “Then stay put for a while.”

  He patted her shoulder and went to the door.

  “Tucker?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thanks for being the best brother in the world.”

  “You’re welcome, best sis.” He blew her a kiss and disappeared down the hallway, whistling something she identified as rap music that didn’t sound right at all.

  She gingerly took off her pants, and studied the line of bruises down her thigh and shin where she’d hit each and every stair on the way down. Her breath hitched when she touched her hip, but the damage was minimal. She murmured a quick prayer, placed the covered ice pack against her skin, and lay back on her bed.

  The family bedrooms at the Hayes Historic Hotel in Morgantown, California, were at the rear of the large house. According to her dad, the Tom Hayes who had taken over the hotel in 1930 had also kept his family in these rooms, building out the front of the hotel into its much grander form when tourism had replaced mining as the most important industry of the day.

  As a kid, Avery had shared a room with her sister, but now because she was an official hotel employee she had the space all to herself. She certainly appreciated not having to pay rent. If she wanted anything to eat there was always the hotel kitchen. Most of her friends thought she had it made.

  The pain eased, and Avery relaxed a little. She’d become an expert in knowing exactly how much damage she’d done to herself, first during her short-lived career as a barrel racer and then—after the final accident—simply as a means of survival.

  “Ungrateful.”

  She said the word out loud. That’s what she was. She had parents who loved her, and who had never given up on her even in her darkest days. She had family, and a job for life at the hotel if she wanted it. Even if she chose not to work she suspected she’d be nagged to death, but would still have a roof over her head and food to eat.

  So what was wrong with her?

  Avery closed her eyes, listening to the familiar sounds of the hotel: the crank and groan of the original elevators—which needed replacing, but which everyone thought were so elegant—the crashes and bangs from the kitchen that worked twenty-four seven to satisfy any little whim a guest might have in the food department.

  Her cell buzzed and she studied the text from her BFF Nancy, who worked both at her mother’s general store and at the Red Dragon bar in town. They’d met in kindergarten and had remained best friends ever since.

  U coming to BB’s class tonite?

  Avery texted back. Sorry, can’t make it.

  What’s up?

  Nothing much. I’m just a bit tired.

  Want me to come over?

  Nah, go and ogle BB instead.

  LOL. Will do. C U tomorrow OK? X

  Avery smiled at her cell. Nancy had a terrible crush on Blue “BB” Morgan, and was still in denial that his engagement to the local vet, Jenna McDonald, was really happening. From what she’d observed, Nancy wasn’t going to get lucky. Blue seemed to have eyes for no one but Jenna, who was also supernice. He was only running the women’s self-defense class at the local bakery out of the goodness of his heart.

  He did look pretty hot as he demonstrated the moves though . . . There was usually an undignified scramble to act as his helper. Avery never offered herself up as sacrifice. She was still wary of accidentally breaking something. Being as BB, or Blue as he liked to be called these days, had served in the Marines, he could probably hurt her quite a lot. Not that he would ever do that intentionally, but she had to be careful.

  Her cell buzzed again.

  1 900 Hours: Blue Morgan self-defense for women class. If you are attending, please let me know. Yvonne.

  Avery groaned. If Yvonne was trying to guesstimate how many people were coming, it usually meant she was planning on handing out some new confectionary delight for them to sample and rate. Last time it had been fruit tarts . . .

  Darn her hip and that stupid cat.

  You’re not coming?

  Avery groaned at Yvonne’s next text. News sure got around fast in Morgantown.

  Sorry can’t make it.

  Will you be okay for the wedding thing tomorrow?

  Sure. See you there.

  She received a smiley heart from Yvonne and put her cell back beside her bed. Yvonne was coordinating the catering for January Mitchell and Chase Morgan’s upcoming wedding. It was Avery’s job to liaise with her about the hotel’s contribution to the event. The Morgan family had founded the town around 1850 and still ran their original ranch just outside the town boundary. The wedding was a big deal for the local community.

  Thinking about the wedding, Avery carefully leaned over and grabbed her tablet to run through her list of action items before the upcoming meeting. She was relieved to see she had dealt with everything. Organizing a wedding wasn’t a new task for her. She did it for the hotel, but the sheer size of the Morgan event meant that January needed all the help she could get. January was also lucky that she happened to be marrying a multimillionaire.

  Avery pictured Chase TC Morgan when he was a senior at high school. He’d been a nerd before nerds became cool, and had often required assistance from his younger brother Blue to keep the bullies off his back. But if you took on one Morgan brother—you pretty much had to take on all four. As a proud member of a large family herself, Avery understood that.

  Chase had recently returned to manage the affairs of his family ranch and had done rather well for himself in Silicon Valley. No one was teasing him anymore. He’d grown into his gangly frame, and was now tall, dark, handsome, rich, and about to mar
ry the local historian who had persuaded him to save the ranch.

  Avery smiled as she considered the happy couple. She’d seen all kinds of brides and grooms and figured she had a pretty good idea which ones were going to make it. Chase and January were solid.

  She eased the ice pack off her hip and sat up, cautiously bringing her feet down onto the rag rug. The rumor mill, aka Yvonne and the gang at the coffee shop, said Ry Morgan and his twin brother would also be back for the wedding. Ry had been at the ranch quite recently, but Avery had managed to avoid him. She’d been in the grade below the twins at school, and had mixed memories of them.

  There was a knock on her door and her mother peered in. Avery hid the ice pack under her pillow.

  “Oh, there you are! You’re not going to that self-defense class, are you?”

  “Nope. I’m prepping for the meeting tomorrow with Yvonne and January.” Avery showed her the tablet. “Is there anything you’d like to add to my action list?”

  Her mom’s relief that she wasn’t going to the class was so obvious, Avery wanted to give her a big hug. She settled for patting the bed beside her.

  “Come and sit here, and let’s go over everything together.”

  * * *

  Ry pulled up his truck outside the barn and turned off the engine. Silence settled around him and he let it sink in. It was twilight. The old wooden barn was silhouetted against the smudged purple sky with the backdrop of the Sierra Nevada rising above like something from an old western movie. He half expected a posse to come sweeping around the corner seeking some badass outlaw.

  Home.

  The main house had been built in the 1850s by the first Morgan to purchase the land. It hadn’t changed much in the last one hundred and fifty years, with its elegant turned-oak staircase, sash windows brought by train from the East Coast, and fancy spindle railings enclosing the porch. Blue liked to work with his hands, and was steadily replacing and improving the original structure, which made everyone happy, and kept the house looking the same only better.