One Tall, Dusty Cowboy

by Stella Bagwell

  Rafe wasn’t exactly sure what his father meant by that. But he couldn’t help but feel a spurt of hope. For so long he’d prayed to see his father back in the saddle and enjoying the ranch as he had before Claudia died.

  “Does this mean you’re actually going to get out of the damned house and start wrangling again?”

  The other man opened his mouth to reply, then deciding against it, he shook his head. “I don’t want to get into all of that now. We’ll discuss it when I get back from Ely. I’ll be staying the night there and return late tomorrow evening.”

  “Fine. I’ll see you when you get back.” Rafe opened the door to climb out of the truck. “Have a safe trip, Dad.”

  “Rafe.”

  Standing on the ground now, Rafe looked back into the truck cab at his father. “Was there something else?”

  “Just remember you have to show some loyalty. Without loyalty you don’t have much at all.”

  Nodding, Rafe shut the truck door between them then thoughtfully watched his father drive away.

  Loyalty. The word churned in his mind as he stared across the dusty ranch yard. It was the thing Lilly had wanted and needed from him. She deserved it from him. But he’d been unable to give it to her. And now, like his father had just said, Rafe didn’t have much of anything.

  Pulling himself back to the present, he started toward the horse barn and as he went his gaze instinctively drifted over to the big house. Three days ago, when he’d encountered Lilly on the stairs, the meeting had in many ways been déjà vu for Rafe. The pleasurable memories of first meeting her there had been mangled with the anger and hurt that had been boiling in him ever since she’d ordered him out of her house. And then suddenly she’d teetered on the step and most likely would’ve fallen if he’d not caught her. Just thinking about it now sent shivers of fear down his spine. Lilly could have suffered the same fate as his mother. In that instant he could have lost her.

  You’ve already lost her, Rafe. Accept it. And move on.

  Yeah. Move on, he thought dourly. He’d already tossed a list of phone numbers of past girlfriends into the trash. He’d thrown himself into his work. And yet, he couldn’t move on. Not without Lilly. So what was he going to do about it? He didn’t have the answer. But there was one thing that was achingly clear to him. He couldn’t continue to exist with this kind of misery eating up his insides.

  * * *

  Two days later, on a Friday morning, Lilly left the Silver Horn with tears in her eyes and even when she reached the hospital to begin her shift, she was still sniffing and struggling to hold back the emotional overload.

  “You look horrible, Lilly!” Marcella exclaimed as the two women strolled toward the nurses’ station. “What’s happened now? Did you have another run-in with that cowboy lothario?”

  Lilly sighed. “No. I told Bart goodbye this morning. It was his last day of therapy. Greta made him a special cake for the occasion and some of his family was there to share it with him.”

  “But not Rafe?”

  “No. Orin made a point of saying that Rafe was working out on the range—something about an emergency. But I’d rather think he wasn’t there because of me.”

  “Forget him, Lilly. He was born getting anything he wanted whenever he wanted it. He doesn’t understand what it means to pay for anything. Not monetarily or emotionally. How can you expect a man like that to be aware of the needs of a woman?”

  Marcella was partially right, Lilly thought. Rafe had been born into a privileged life. But not everything had been handed to him. He was hardly a shirker. In fact, he worked above and beyond what a normal man should be expected to do. He loved his family and the Silver Horn and was dedicated to both. He just wasn’t dedicated to Lilly. But that hardly made him a bad man.

  “I don’t want to start my workday thinking of Rafe,” she muttered.

  “Hmm. Well, Doctor Sherman is on duty today,” Marcella said with a smirk. “That will give us both something to think about. We’d better be on our toes.”

  * * *

  As the afternoon progressed, Lilly was actually glad the demanding doctor was on duty. His presence helped her to forget that she’d no longer be driving to the Silver Horn every morning to see Bart. Her time with the older man had become more than a physical-therapy job to Lilly and she was going to deeply miss her visits with the ranch patriarch. Almost as much as she missed Rafe.

  Rafe. Dear God, ever since that last collision they’d had on the staircase, she’d been replaying their whole relationship over and over in her mind. He’d made her feel alive again. He’d made each day have more meaning. She’d begun to hope and dream and believe in herself as a woman. That was more than any man had ever given her. Had she been wrong in wanting more? True, he’d sworn that his ideas on love and marriage would never change. But maybe if she’d not rushed things and remained at his side, she could have showed him what commitment and loyalty could bring to his life. Eventually, he might have had a change of heart. Instead, she’d given him an ultimatum and pushed him away.

  Shaking away that depressing thought, she entered a cubicle where a young woman was being treated for dehydration and heat exhaustion.

  “So how’s the patient feeling now?” Lilly asked Marcella, who was sponging the frail, redheaded woman with cool water.

  “She’s improving,” Marcella answered, then added in motherly fashion, “And she’s learned a lesson not to go on a three-mile jog in the middle of the afternoon.”

  Lilly was about to give the young woman a word of assurance, when the sound of an approaching siren had her glancing around. The arrival of an ambulance could mean anything from an insect sting to a heart attack. Lilly had learned that each case had to be dealt with cool professionalism. Which was difficult to do when a patient’s life was teetering on the edge.

  “I’ll go see what the ambulance is bringing in,” she told Marcella.

  She left the cubicle and was heading toward the entryway of the examining rooms, when a gurney being pushed by two medics burst through the double doors.

  “What do we have here?”

  The question came from Doctor Sherman, who’d suddenly appeared from a doorway to Lilly’s left.

  “ATV accident. Male. Thirty. Appears to have compound fractures and possible internal injuries,” one of the medics answered, then quickly recited the last vital numbers they’d taken on the patient. “This looks like a bad one. He and his buddies were back in the mountains. It took them two hours to get him to a road where the ambulance could pick him up.”

  “Put him in the first cubicle,” the doctor ordered, then wordlessly motioned for Lilly to follow.

  For the next five minutes, they worked feverishly to stabilize the man’s condition, but just when they thought he could be elevated up to the ICU floor, his blood pressure flattened to nothing and his heart stopped.

  Doctor Sherman worked for thirty minutes or more in an effort to regain a heart rhythm, but the injuries were too extensive. Eventually, he looked over at Lilly and shook his head.

  “I’m afraid it’s over for this young man. I tried. I really tried. What a waste.”

  The bleak look in the doctor’s eyes took Lilly by surprise. It was the first time she’d ever seen the man show any sort of compassion, and she realized that losing this patient had crushed him. But it had crushed Lilly, also. All the while they’d worked over the victim, she couldn’t help but compare him to Rafe. The accident victim had been the same age as Rafe and possessed the same robust appearance of a man who worked and played outdoors. Now his life was suddenly over.

  “You did everything you could possibly do,” she told Doctor Sherman. “You can’t feel responsible.”

  “That doesn’t make it any easier when I have to tell his loved ones that he’s gone,” he said, then walked out of the cubicle.


  * * *

  Miles away, on the Silver Horn, Rafe was standing with Roscoe beneath the flimsy shade of a mesquite tree, letting the horse take a breather, when the clank of a horseshoe against rock sounded behind him.

  Expecting it to be one of the ranch hands returning to check on him, he was more than surprised to see his father riding up on his favorite black horse he called Woody. Just seeing Orin back in the saddle perked Rafe’s otherwise flat spirits.

  Reining his mount to a stop a few steps away from Rafe, Orin climbed down from the saddle.

  Rafe greeted him. “Hello, Dad. I see you made it back from Ely okay. I missed you at breakfast this morning. We left early to move these mama cows here to Antelope Creek.”

  “Clancy told me where you’d be. And I met the crew on their way back to the ranch a few minutes ago. They told me you were still out here,” Orin explained as he gazed out toward the small herd of cattle grazing at tufts of buffalo grass along the creek bank. “Looks like the creek is nearly dried up. Is the tank working on this range?”

  Any other time Orin’s question would’ve irked Rafe. Making sure that the cattle were always provided with enough fresh water was something he’d learned before he was ten years old. But this time Rafe didn’t mind the rudimentary question. His father had ridden at least six miles from the ranch to join him out here. That meant much to Rafe.

  “It’s full. We checked it yesterday.” His gaze took in his father’s boots and spurs and the broad, brimmed cowboy hat angled over one eye. Something had finally pushed Orin Calhoun out among the living again and even though Rafe didn’t know what it was, he thanked God for it. “What about the cattle in Ely? Are we getting them?”

  “They were lightweight, but I bought them at a decent price. If the coming winter isn’t too tough, we should be able to add at least a hundred to two hundred more pounds on them. That ought to make a nice profit—if we decide to turn them.”

  While Roscoe tried to nibble a bean hanging from a branch of the mesquite, Rafe scuffed the toe of his boot against the hard ground. “In case you’re wondering, I’ve apologized to the men. We all have a better understanding now. So there won’t be any more problems with me or them.”

  “That’s all I need to know.” He stepped over to Woody and began to unbuckle one side of the saddlebags. “I brought a thermos of coffee with me. Want a cup?”

  “Sure. Got anything stronger to go in it?” Rafe never had been much for alcohol, but these past few days the momentary relief of a stiff drink was mighty tempting.

  Glancing over his shoulder, Orin shot a disapproving glance at his son. “Out here? Hell, you think I’m that much like Dad? He used to carry it in a coffee thermos thinking he could fool me. It’s a wonder he hadn’t fallen off his horse and broken his fool neck.”

  “Thank God he doesn’t do that anymore,” Rafe said.

  “Yeah. But he still keeps a bottle of bourbon hidden in his desk.”

  “Gramps! He’s not supposed to be drinking!”

  Returning to Rafe’s side, Orin handed him a small tin granite cup. He filled it from a metal thermos then fetched another cup for himself. Once they were both sipping the hot drink, Orin said, “As far as I know he’s not drinking again. He tells me he keeps a bottle in his desk as a reminder to the mistakes he’s made and not to make them again. But after this morning, I’m afraid he might actually dig the thing out.”

  “Why? What happened this morning? Did he take a bad fall?”

  Orin grunted. “Fall? The man can practically dance a jig now. Instead, he’s staring out the window, feeling sorry for himself.”

  “Why? He’s one lucky guy. Somebody ought to remind him of that.”

  Orin thoughtfully stroked his chin with his thumb and forefinger. “He’s grieving. Today was his last therapy session with Lilly. Greta made cake and punch for the occasion and we all tried to celebrate. That’s why I was late riding out here.”

  He didn’t have to ask if Lilly was there. No doubt she’d been right there at Bart’s side. She had the older man’s devotion and she loved him for it. Perhaps if Rafe had shown her a bit more devotion, he wouldn’t be feeling like a lost little doggie right now. “I wonder why someone didn’t let me in on this celebration?” Rafe asked with sarcasm. “What am I around here, some sort of outcast?”

  “I didn’t know about it myself until Greta told me this morning at breakfast. You were already gone with the men. Besides, I didn’t think you’d want to be there. Not with the way things turned out with you and Lilly. Anyway, your brothers didn’t know about it until the last minute. And Evan wasn’t there, either.”

  Had Lilly even noticed Rafe’s absence? he wondered miserably. Or had she already succeeded in putting him far behind her?

  “Lilly or not, I would’ve been there,” Rafe told him. “I love Gramps. I want him to be healthy and to know how proud I am of him.”

  “Well, I can tell you he’s not one bit happy about his time with Lilly ending. He’s grown very fond of her, you know.”

  “Fond! I think he’s in love with her!” Rafe muttered.

  Orin grunted. “I think you have a much more serious rival for Lilly’s affection than Bart.”

  Rafe choked down the swig of coffee he’d just taken. A rival? The idea that some other man could step into Lilly’s life had crossed his mind many times before, but he’d not expected it to be happening now, so soon!

  Go find the nearest mirror and tell the guy looking back at you that he’s not quite the Romeo he thinks he is.

  Some of the first words Lilly had spoken to him were coming back to haunt him now, Rafe thought. He wasn’t the only man on the planet and she was free to move on to any one of them. He’d given her that choice when he’d walked away from her.

  “What are you talking about?” Rafe asked guardedly.

  “I’m talking about Chet Anderson.”

  Rafe wished he could appear indifferent but he couldn’t. It was all he could do to keep from leaping onto Roscoe’s back and spurring the horse to a mind-clearing gallop across the river flats.

  Lifting his hat from his head, he wiped at the sweat that was gluing strands of dark hair to his forehead. “Am I supposed to know who that is?”

  “He’s the director of nursing at Tahoe General. I think I told you before that he was a friend of mine. He’s the one who recommended Lilly to be Bart’s therapist.”

  So in a roundabout way, the man was responsible for Rafe’s misery. Chet Anderson had sent Lilly to the Silver Horn, where she’d promptly walked into Rafe’s life, turned it upside down, then walked back out. Now Rafe was stumbling around like an idiot who’d lost his bearings.

  He jerked his hat down over his forehead. “I can’t remember everything you tell me, Dad. I do have a lot on my mind.”

  Orin continued to sip his coffee. “Well, if you care anything about Lilly, you’d better think about this. Chet is serious about the woman. If he had it his way, he’d marry her tomorrow.”

  These past three weeks since their breakup, Rafe had wanted to think that Lilly had been just as miserable as he’d been. That she’d been pining to be in his arms and regretting her decision to end their relationship. Dear God, it sounded as though he’d been wrong about that. Along with plenty of other things.

  Rafe could feel the blood draining from his face, and the swimmy feeling in the pit of his stomach had him taking long, deep breaths. “How could you know something like that?” he finally asked.

  “Chet told me so. Since Lilly has been coming to the ranch for the past two months, he knows that I’ve gotten acquainted with her and naturally her name has come up in our conversations about Bart. I never had the heart to tell him that you were dating her. Considering your track record with women I figured you’d step out of the way pretty soon, anyway. And you have, haven’t you?”
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br />   If the two of them had been having this discussion in Orin’s office, Rafe could’ve walked out and not felt too guilty about it. But being out on the open range was different. Sure, he could climb on Roscoe and ride off. But it would leave him looking cowardly and small. Especially after his father had ridden all the way out here to see him. No, whatever his father had to say, Rafe was going to have to brace himself and take it like a man.

  “Look, Dad, that’s the way Lilly wanted things. I didn’t end it, she did!”

  Long moments passed before Orin finally asked, “And why was that? Another woman?”

  Something in Rafe’s throat was closing off, making it difficult for him to breathe, much less talk. Why was his father digging at him like this, tearing away the scab on his wounded heart? “Isn’t that my own personal business?” he countered.

  “You’re right,” Orin calmly agreed. “And you don’t have to answer. But if you can’t talk to me about this, then you’re in worse shape than I first imagined.”

  Rafe directed his gaze to a spot beyond the river to where a ridge of bald mountains rose up from the desert floor. Between here and there, the stout southwesterly wind was whipping up the dry earth and turning the air to a brown haze. His mind was just as foggy as the dusty horizon, he thought dismally, and it was going to take more than a strong wind to clear it.

  “There is no other woman, Dad. To be honest, ever since I met Lilly I’ve not even wanted to look at any other woman. Our problem is—was—she wants things that I don’t. Like love and marriage and kids. That’s what tore us apart.”

  Orin tossed the dregs of his coffee toward a patch of prickly pear. “I figured as much,” he said ruefully.

  The disappointment on his father’s face made Rafe feel even worse. “You don’t understand, Dad. Lilly and I had a deal. We weren’t supposed to get serious.”