Cowboy Courage

by Carolyn Brown

  “Is that a shop or a bar?” Luna asked.

  “No, it’s the name five senior citizens have given themselves. They’re on that tour with Molly. Emily used to work at an assisted living center where they lived, and they kind of adopted her. When she married Justin and moved out to his ranch, they all bought a house together in Sunset and moved into it.” He finished off his pancakes and pushed his chair back. “Thank you for the breakfast. It was sure nice to sit down with you ladies.”

  Luna kicked Rose under the table and drew her eyes down.

  “What?” Rose asked.

  Walk him out, Luna mouthed and then smiled at Hud. “Honey, we owe you lots of breakfasts after what all you’ve done around here, and for you picking up the bill on our dinner yesterday. So you come around anytime”—she chuckled—“at least while I’m here. If you wait until it’s just Rose, you’ll get microwaved breakfast biscuits or maybe them waffles that you put in the toaster.”

  “Yes, ma’am, and thank you again,” he said.

  “I’ll walk you to the door.” Rose pushed back her chair. She caught her reflection in the floor-length mirror in the foyer and shuddered. There was no doubt in her mind that this morning would be the last time she ever saw Hud Baker.

  “I wouldn’t have come down to breakfast…” she started.

  He tipped up her chin with his fist and smiled. “I think you look adorable, even with a hangover.” His lips touched hers in a sweet kiss. “See you this evening. After I get finished at the ranch, I’ll come by and we’ll see about fixing those holes in the walls.”

  She was shocked totally speechless as she watched him walk down the sidewalk to his truck. Either he was a good liar or he was stone-cold blind. She took a step back and looked in the mirror again—nope, she hadn’t turned into Cinderella. She wasn’t wearing a pretty ball gown. Her hair wasn’t all done up in curls, and she damn sure didn’t have on glass slippers.

  She twirled around twice, holding out an imaginary skirt tail, with a big smile on her face. She might not be a princess on the outside, but the way Hud had looked down into her soul, she sure felt like one.

  Chapter Eight

  Plowing put Hud in a tractor alone with nothing but the radio and his own thoughts playing all day. He remembered those days of eighth grade when Cactus Rose came to Tulia Junior High School. From that first handshake, something had passed between them. She wasn’t prettier than the other girls. She was smarter than most kids in the class, but that wasn’t it either—Misty Dawson was the smartest kid in school, and she didn’t take his eye.

  He couldn’t put his finger on it then, or now, but just being in the same room with Rose jacked up his pulse and made his heart skip beats. Maybe it was that their hearts needed the other one to be truly happy—like they each had only half a heart without the other one, kind of like that necklace that Tag gave his first girlfriend. His name on the half that Daronda Smith wore, and hers on the half he wore around his neck.

  Hud remembered that he’d invited Cactus Rose to the winter formal, but she’d said that her dad didn’t let her date. He asked her to the Valentine’s dance, but the answer was the same. They saw each other at school and rode the bus home together, but that was as far as it went—until that last day of school and he’d kissed her just before she got off the bus.

  He’d figured it would be a long summer, since her folks didn’t have a telephone, much less a cell phone, but it had gone by fast. He couldn’t wait to get to homeroom on the first day of his freshman year. Maybe Cactus Rose was old enough to date now. Maybe she’d let him take her to church if nothing else, and her dad would let her go home to Sunday dinner with him.

  She wasn’t there—and his heart felt like it had rocks on top of it for weeks. Even now, as he drove back home from the fields, Hud remembered how miserable he’d been all those years ago.

  Paxton looked up at him from the kitchen table, where he was having a bowl of leftover chili for supper. “You look like you just lost your best friend. Did someone die?”

  “No, but”—Hud hung up his coat and hat and dipped up the last of the chili for himself—“past memories and feelings.”

  Paxton nodded. “Been there. Done that. I’m going to the Rusty Spur tonight. Go with me and dance those thoughts right out of your head.”

  “Not tonight,” Hud replied. “I’ve got some bullet holes to patch up at the Rose Garden B&B.”

  “You’ve got to what?” Paxton asked. “Who got shot?”

  “A mouse,” Hud answered.

  “For real?” Paxton asked.

  “You remember meeting Alana’s friend at Maverick’s wedding—Cactus Rose?”

  “Wasn’t that your first girlfriend?” Paxton asked. “The one that you told me about last year?”

  “I’m not sure you could call her a girlfriend. We were fourteen, and the only time I saw her was at school. She couldn’t date, and I wasn’t old enough to drive.” Hud told him about the past week’s experiences. “And tonight we’re going to patch up holes and see what I can do about a picture that got shot up.”

  “Man, you must really have a case of that first-love crap”—Paxton shook his head in disbelief—“to do that for a woman that you ain’t even hooked up with yet.”

  “Would you do something like that for Alana?” Hud asked.

  “Sure, but I’ve known her my whole life,” Paxton said. “When you get done with your drywall job, come on out to the bar. I’ll buy your first beer.”

  “Maybe I will.” Hud headed out to the barn to get the supplies he’d need.

  When he had everything loaded in the back of his truck, he drove from the ranch to Bowie. He carried an armload of tools up to the porch, and knocked.

  Luna slung the door open and motioned to him. “Come right on in,” Luna said. “Rose is upstairs already, so you can go on up there. I’m not climbing the stairs. My knees are hurting tonight. I bet there’s rain on the way. But if you’d like to take Madam with you—just in case another rat comes around—I’ll trust you with her.”

  “Who?” Hud asked.

  “My pistol,” Luna whispered. “It hurts her feelings when I don’t refer to her by her name.”

  “I think I can manage without her, but thank you for putting so much trust in me,” he said.

  “I’m a damn fine judge of character.” Luna patted him on the shoulder.

  “I appreciate that.” Hud started up the stairs with Chester right behind him. “Besides, a mouse would have to be suicidal to come out in the open with old Chester here to protect us.”

  Luna giggled and waved over her shoulder as she went back to the living room.

  “I’m in here,” Rose called out from a room at the head of the stairs.

  He peeked into the room, and there she was, taking a picture off the wall. “Looks like it knocked a hole behind it too. Who’d have thought one bullet could travel so far?”

  Her hair was twisted up and held in place with a long clasp, but a few strands had escaped. She kept blowing them away from her face, much like she did that first day when they were just young teenagers in homeroom. His gaze traveled down her body and back up again. Her waist nipped in from a perfectly rounded butt. She’d tied her T-shirt into a knot at the back so that it hugged her curves. His eyes went to her lips—so full and sweet tasting.

  “What?” she asked.

  “You’re beautiful,” he whispered.

  She turned toward him. “I picked this outfit out special for you. The T-shirt and the jeans are vintage, and my hair was done by the wind when I stepped outside for a breath of fresh air.”

  He chuckled. “Age didn’t rob you of your sense of humor.”

  “You sayin’ I’m old.” She marched up to his chest and wrapped her arms around his neck.

  The toolbox and supplies hit the floor with a thud. He cupped her cheeks in his hands, got lost in her eyes until they fluttered shut, and then his lips were on hers. The kiss started out sweet, but soon it deepened into m
ore and got hotter and hotter with every second. They were both panting when she finally took a step back.

  “That should prove that I’m not old,” she said.

  “I’m not so sure,” he teased. “Maybe we should give it another try.”

  “One more kiss like that, and, honey, I’ll be nothing but a melted pile of hormones layin’ on the floor, whining for more,” she joked right back at him.

  “I’d sure love to see and hear that.” He drew her back to his chest and hugged her tightly. “But I suppose if that happened, Aunt Luna would be charging up the stairs with Madam and we’d have even more holes to patch.”

  “You’re smart as well as sexy,” Rose told him.

  “You think I’m sexy?” He leaned back and smiled down at her.

  “Honey, I thought that the first time I laid eyes on you, and I damn sure haven’t changed my mind, not one bit!”

  Hud had never been as outgoing as his wild twin brother, but he’d never had trouble with a flirty comeback—at least not until right then.

  “I guess we’d best get to work,” Rose said. “I don’t know jack crap about drywall or fixing bullet holes, but if you’ll tell me what to do, I’ll be glad to help.”

  “Well, darlin’, if I run out of steam, you could kiss me again.” He finally found his voice.

  “It’s a deal.” Her eyes twinkled with mischief. “You’re a good man, Hud Baker, for helping take care of this, but if you have something you need to be doing, I’m sure the folks that Aunt Molly has hired to paint the place can patch the holes.”

  “You going to kiss them if they run out of steam?” he asked.

  She air-slapped his arm. “Of course not. I only kiss handsome cowboys that pull me up out of nasty bowls of water, and who save me from rats.”

  “Well, that’s good to know.” He opened up his toolbox and went to work on the two holes in that room. “Looks to me like that picture may be shot. Unless it’s sentimental to Molly or an antique, I’d just replace it with another one.”

  That sure didn’t sound romantic, but his heart was still pounding like he’d ridden a bull for eight seconds. If he didn’t get his mind off how much kissing her had aroused him, he’d shut and lock the door.

  “I’ll ask her about it next time we talk. How long have you known Aunt Molly?” Rose asked.

  “Not very long and not very well,” he answered as he cut away a six-inch square of drywall around the hole. “Met her at church when she sat on the pew with the Fab Five once, but I’m sure she’ll appreciate what we’re doing.”

  Chester dragged a sock into the room and laid it at Rose’s feet. She bent to get it and then changed her mind. “That’s a man’s sock. Where did you get it?”

  “Maybe Molly has some secrets,” Hud suggested.

  Rose crossed her arms over her chest. “Guess maybe I’d better talk to her about that too.”

  “I wouldn’t if I was you.” He cut a square of drywall from the scrap piece he’d brought with him and fit it into the hole he’d made. “She’s a consenting adult, and if she’s got a love life, then pat her on the back—don’t fuss at her.”

  Rose narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you telling me what to do?”

  “No, ma’am, just telling you what I’d do if a man’s sock showed up in my grandmother’s house,” he replied. “Now on to the next hole in the wall. I’ll get them all patched and then I’ll bed and tape. Have to come back later to sand.”

  * * *

  Rose wanted to dance a jig right there in the bedroom. Hud had a good excuse to come back later—not that he needed one in her book. “Want a beer when you get finished?”

  “Sure.” He nodded, and then threw the hammer on the floor and grabbed his thumb. “Dammit! I swear, bad luck crawls out of the walls of this place.”

  Chester let out a howl and took off down the stairs, carrying his dark brown sock with him. Aunt Luna yelled up from the foyer, “Y’all okay up there?”

  “We’re fine. Just dropped a hammer,” Rose hollered as she picked up Hud’s hand and kissed his thumb. “I’m sorry. Looks like you just got the edge, so there won’t be a blood blister under your nail. Let’s go get that beer now and do this another time.”

  “Hell, no!” Hud shook his head. “I won’t let a hammer win the war. It won’t take much longer to finish up, and besides, your kiss made it all better.”

  “Okay, then,” Rose agreed. “Let’s get it done.”

  Hud had been right about it only taking a little while longer in that room, and then they went to the next room, her bedroom. Chester came bounding back up the stairs with his dark sock still in his mouth, hopped up on the bed, and laid it on her pillow.

  Hud raised an eyebrow. “Maybe Miz Molly needs to have a talk with you, instead of the other way around. Is Chester putting that sock back where he found it?”

  “The only person who knows for sure is Chester, and he ain’t talkin’,” Rose said.

  The crazy cat chose that moment to meow several times, pick up his sock, and march out of the room.

  “Too bad I don’t understand cat language. I think he just told on you.” Hud set about patching up the last wall.

  “Even though he’s a tattletale, I’d gladly adopt him if Aunt Molly would let me,” Rose said. “I always wanted a pet, but Daddy wouldn’t let me have one. He said I was too sentimental, and I’d cry when it died.”

  “I did,” Hud admitted.

  “You did what?” Rose asked.

  “I cried when Willie died. He was a Catahoula puppy, I got him for Christmas when I was four. He died when I was a senior in high school. They’d wrapped him in the horse blanket he’d slept on in the barn and buried him under a shade tree. I spent the rest of that day at the back side of the ranch crying.”

  “I’m sorry.” Rose’s heart broke a little at the thought of a big tough cowboy like Hud crying.

  Luna poked her head in the door. “I’ve made some banana nut muffins to go with coffee when y’all get done up here. I heard what you said about your dog. Wilbur adopted an ugly old stray mutt that came around the last carnival we had. We named him Beggar because that’s what he did—begged for food from everyone in the carnival. When he died, we had a funeral for him, and one of our friends recited a poem called ‘The Rainbow Bridge.’ It seemed like a nice thing to do. I wouldn’t be surprised if Molly don’t have a funeral for Chester when he dies.”

  “All finished,” Hud said. “I’ll bring some bedding tape and mud over tomorrow evening and finish up this job.”

  Luna started for the stairs. “Wilbur should’ve called by now. It’s about time for him to apologize. Besides I’m gettin’ homesick.”

  “Aunt Luna, I hate to see you leave,” Rose said, “but I can always take you to the bus station and get you a ticket back to Alabama if you’re ready to go home.”

  “We’ll see about that tomorrow.” Luna nodded. “I’ve got money, darlin’, so I don’t need to hitch rides. I just like truck drivers. Me and Wilbur drove our own trucks back during the years when we owned our carnival. I liked sitting up high and the excitement of going from one place to the other. And, Hud, you ain’t comin’ back here tomorrow to work.”

  “Why not?” Hud asked.

  “Because tomorrow is Sunday and according to Molly, if you work on Sunday God is sure to send lightning bolts from heaven to strike you graveyard dead. You can mud and tape on Monday,” Luna answered with a wink at both of them. “Muffins are on the cabinet. Coffee is made. I’m going to my room and watch television. Be quiet when you leave, Hud. Wilbur says I can hear a mouse chewin’ cheese at fifty yards. I wouldn’t want to think you was an intruder and shoot you.”

  * * *

  “Would it be rude for us to bypass the muffins and coffee and go to the Rusty Spur for a beer and a few dances?” Hud asked.

  “Yes,” she answered without hesitation, and picked a short leather jacket from off the coatrack inside the door. “I’ll just leave a note on the credenza fo
r Aunt Luna in case she gets up and can’t find me.”

  When they got to the truck, he opened the door for her, and Rose hesitated. “Maybe I should change into something more western.”

  “I told you before, you’re beautiful. I’ll have to fight off the competition as it is,” he said as he shut the door and rounded the front side.

  “How far is it to the bar?” she asked when he was behind the wheel.

  “Maybe ten minutes,” he answered.

  They’d gone about two miles when blue lights began to flash behind Hud’s truck. He slowed down and pulled over to the side to let the officer go on by, but the police car pulled right in behind him and turned on the sirens.

  “Was I speeding?” Hud asked.

  “I have no idea,” Rose answered.

  Hud rolled down the window and the policeman asked for his driver’s license and registration. He pulled out his wallet and got the papers from the glove box, and handed them out the window.

  “Step out of the vehicle.” He called for backup and a second officer got out of the car and came running toward the passenger side.

  “You, too, ma’am,” the second one said. “Put both your hands out of the truck so I can see them.”

  Holy smokin’ hell! she thought. There was no way Hud was going so fast that they should be treated like drunks or serial killers, but she did what she was told.

  “So where’s the drugs, and why did you have to pistol-whip poor old Truman Wheeler?” the first officer said.

  “I did what?” Hud frowned.

  “You robbed the drugstore, and the pharmacist is in the emergency room getting stitches in his forehead right now,” the second one said. “Truman might have had blood in his eyes, but he saw a black pickup truck speeding away and he got the first three license plate numbers. You can tell us where the drugs are now, or we can rip this truck apart.”

  “How many black trucks do you reckon are in this county, and how many of them have license plates that start with those three numbers?” Rose asked.

  “Don’t you get sassy with me, woman,” the officer said. “We’ll sort all this out at the station. Give Officer Turnbull your keys so we can impound this truck.”