Cowboy Courage

by Carolyn Brown

  “The river is the journey of your life. You find a good woman to ride the river with, and the journey will be right nice. Just be real sure that you’re listenin’ to your heart and not your head when you make your choice. Sometimes you might get them confused,” Granddad had said.

  Shiloh laid a hand on his arm and jerked him out of the past and back to the present. “Ready to get in line for food.”

  “I sure am,” he said. “You looked pretty good holding that baby.”

  “I love babies and kids. I just hope I don’t have to pay for my raisin’ when my kids get to be teenagers,” she told him.

  “Ain’t that the truth?” he agreed.

  “Excuse me.” A man wearing creased jeans and a western shirt stepped through the crowd. “I’m Dillon McRay, Miz Denison’s lawyer. I’d like to meet with you for just a few minutes in the sanctuary. I promise it will only take a few minutes, and then y’all can come on back in here and have some dinner. The line will probably be pretty well done by then.”

  “Y’all as in…?” Waylon asked.

  “You and Shiloh Malloy,” he said.

  “Yes, sir,” Waylon said, “but may I ask what is the nature of this?”

  “I understand that one or both of you have adopted Miz Denison’s dog and cats. Is that right?” Dillon asked.

  Waylon nodded. “That’s right. We’ve got Blister and Callie and the kittens. It didn’t take us long to get attached to them.”

  “Then I need to see y’all. Her nephew and his family are already in the sanctuary, so if you’ll follow me.” He led the way across the fellowship hall, through a door that led straight into the sanctuary and up to the front pew.

  Waylon laid his crutches out on the pew and sat down beside Shiloh.

  Dillon chose to sit on the altar, where his black leather briefcase waited. He opened it and removed several papers. “This is very short and won’t take long. I won’t take time to read Miz Denison’s will, but I have a copy for Waylon and one for Carl. This is what it says. Carl, you and your family inherit the house and everything in it, but you cannot sell it. If you don’t want to possess it and the ten acres that goes with it, then you can take whatever you want from it, but again, you can’t sell it, and when you are dead whoever inherits it can’t sell it either. I’m supposed to ask you what you plan to do with the dog and cats at this point.”

  “I figured she’d do something like this,” Carl, a tall, lanky man with thick glasses, said. “She was a cantankerous old girl and never forgave any of her brothers for moving away from the canyon. I don’t want the house or anything in it if I can’t sell it.”

  His wife held up a hand. “And we damn sure don’t want those animals, so I guess we drove all the way up here from Sweetwater for nothing.”

  “I guess maybe you did,” Dillon said. “Since you’ve stated your desires”—he held up a minirecorder—“and I have it right here, then you are free to go.”

  “Let’s just go back to her house, get our things, and leave,” Carl’s wife said. “I never have liked potluck dinners. We can stop at that little café in Silverton. They made a pretty good chicken fried steak last time we ate there.”

  “One more time,” Dillon asked. “You don’t want the house, the land, or anything of hers from the house?”

  “You got that right.” Carl nodded. “We’ll be out of this godforsaken canyon in an hour and probably never come back.”

  “Okay, then, but would you please sign these papers for me stating that is your decision before you go,” Dillon asked.

  Carl whipped a pen from his pocket and put his signature on all the places where the lawyer had stuck fancy little blue tabs. “I wish I’d known before we came that this was the way it was going to be. I wouldn’t have wasted my time.”

  Shiloh took a deep breath and started to get up from the pew, but Waylon put a hand on her knee. “Some people are born assholes,” he whispered.

  “And just get bigger with age,” she said out of the side of her mouth.

  When the papers were signed, Carl and his wife didn’t go back through the fellowship hall at all but left through the front door. Dillon took a deep breath and said, “Okay, now to what I have to say to you, Waylon. I need you to sign this paper saying that you bought your ranch from Oliver Watson and there were no other owners besides you and Mr. Watson. I know all this already, since I live on up toward Claude and do the legal business for a lot of folks in the canyon, but we have to keep everything documented and legal.”

  Waylon scanned through the single sheet of paper and signed it. “I don’t understand what I’ve got to do with all this, but there it is.”

  “I’ve got something to read to you now,” Dillon said.

  “‘If Dillon is reading this then I’m dead. I like you, Waylon Stephens. You’re a good man. I’m glad that you bought the ranch next to my place. Even though our paths only cross at church since I don’t keep goats or a steer or two anymore, I feel good knowing you are next door. This ten acres was at one time a part of the Watson Ranch. My dad bought it from his cousin, but you aren’t interested in all that history. Here’s the deal, if my nephew, who is my oldest living relative, declines to take possession of my house and land, then it should go back and become a part of the original property so it’s now yours…’” Dillon stopped and looked up.

  Waylon could hardly believe what he’d just heard. “Are you saying that I just inherited her house and property?”

  “Exactly,” Dillon answered and continued reading: “‘To whoever takes in my precious pets, Dillon has orders to hand over my entire bank accounts. He will take care of all the particulars concerning the transfer, but this is my desire. So if you are in this room, and Blister and Callie are at your house, then Dillon will explain the rest to you.’”

  Waylon shook his head slowly. “What does all that mean?”

  “It means that her savings and checking accounts and her portfolio of investments now are totally yours. All you have to do is sign a document saying that you will take care of the animals, love them, and give them a good home until they die.” Dillon shuffled through more papers and handed them to Waylon to sign.

  “Why did you need me?” Shiloh asked.

  “If Waylon is living with someone or married, then they have to agree to help take care of the dog and cat,” Dillon told them.

  “I’ll be moving out tonight,” Shiloh said.

  “Then I only need Waylon’s signature,” he said.

  “I don’t need to be paid to give those animals a good home,” Waylon said as he signed the papers.

  “You’re a good man,” Dillon said. “But this is the way she wanted things done. I have the past year’s bank statements and her portfolio right here. She paid me enough to retain me for the rest of this year, so if you need anything call me. That pretty much concludes our business, so if you have no more questions, I’m going to make myself a plate of food. I sure like potluck dinners.”

  Waylon glanced down at the figures on the top paper, blinked a dozen times, and still couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many zeroes in my life. I’d never have guessed that Granny Denison was so rich!”

  “Well, I for one do not intend to tell Bonnie about this. She was the one who rescued the animals to begin with and brought them to us.” Shiloh smiled.

  Waylon’s mind went around in circles so fast that he had trouble catching a single thought, so he finally said, “Let’s take all this out to the van and then have some dinner. Then we better go home and take good care of Blister and Callie. You think maybe I should buy them gold-plated feeding and water dishes?”

  “No, but I think maybe you should turn her house into a bunkhouse and hire some full-time help,” she suggested. “Or maybe even buy the Dunlap Ranch that borders you on the south. It’s been for sale ever since I got here.”

  “I wanted that piece of property, but it’s twice as big as the Watson Ranch, and I couldn’t afford
it,” he admitted.

  “Well, darlin’, now you can.” She stood up and handed him his crutches. “A bit of advice though. I’d only tell about inheriting the property and house but not the money. If you do, you should at least wait until your foot is fully healed.”

  “Why’s that?” he asked.

  She picked up the stack of papers. “Because you’re going to need to outrun every single girl in the canyon when they find out how much you’re worth.”

  Waylon hoped that Shiloh was way out in front, leading the pack, should that ever become the case.

  Chapter Eight

  The doctor cleared Waylon to do anything that he felt like doing, including driving and lifting, so long as he took it easy on the ankle for another week. As soon as they left his office, Waylon asked Shiloh to drive him to the body shop to see about his truck.

  Suddenly, Shiloh’s heart felt like someone had laid a rock on top of it. She thought she’d be relieved to go back to her routine on Malloy Ranch. Her mother used to tell her that she couldn’t have her Popsicle and eat it too. That rang more true right then than it ever had before. She wanted to go home so she and Bonnie could get used to not having Abby Joy around all the time, but she wanted to stay with Waylon too.

  “Man, it feels good to get off those crutches,” Waylon said on the way out to her van. “It’s still a little tender, but I’ve had a worse sore ankle after being thrown from a bull.”

  She just nodded, then got into the van and drove back toward Claude, where the body shop was located. From there he’d drive himself down into the base of the canyon and home.

  “What’re you goin’ to name the kittens?” she asked.

  “That’s your job, remember?” He turned on the radio. “You’re supposed to name the babies like Blake sings about.”

  “But the dog came with a name and so did the mama cat,” she argued.

  “I checked when we went by the house. We’ve got two girls and one boy kitten. I reckon if we’re going to keep four cats in the house, we’d better be gettin’ in touch with a vet before too long.” He kept time for a few seconds with his thumb on the console, and then he began to sing with Willie Nelson doing “Help Me Make It Through the Night.”

  Shiloh sang harmony with him, and agreed with the lyrics, which said he didn’t care what was right or wrong, and that the devil could take tomorrow because he didn’t want to be alone and needed help to make it through the night. That’s the way she felt too—just one more night with him beside her in that big king-size bed, and this time they’d do more than sleep.

  The body shop had his truck ready, so he drove it back to his ranch, and parked in front of the house. He got out and sat on the porch steps and waited for her to get the van parked. She got the papers the lawyer had given him from the backseat and handed them off to him on her way inside.

  “My suitcase is packed. I just need to get it, unless you want me to stick around to help with chores tonight,” she said.

  “I think I’ve got it covered.” He stood to his feet. “Shiloh, thank you for everything. If I can ever return the favor, just give me a call. I programmed my number into your phone.”

  “I surely will.” She walked past him into the house.

  She wanted to say that he could ask her to stay, but why would he? With what he’d inherited that day, he could have any woman in the state of Texas. He might even have to get himself one of those number machines like they had in the fancy coffee shops just to give them all a turn.

  She rolled her suitcase out onto the porch and started to carry it out to her van.

  “I’ll take that for you.” He picked it up and followed her to her vehicle. “You will come back on weekends to visit the animals, won’t you?”

  “Of course.” She smiled as she settled behind the wheel. “We still have to name the kittens. I’ll be thinkin’ about the two girls’ names?”

  He tilted his hat back and leaned into the van, cupped her cheeks in his calloused hands, and kissed her with so much passion that the whole world disappeared. For the length of one long, hot kiss, she forgot about everything but being close to Waylon. When it ended, she leaned her head on his shoulder.

  “I’ll miss you, Shiloh,” he whispered. “Don’t be a stranger. You’re welcome anytime.”

  “I’ll remember that, and the same goes for you. Come on across the highway anytime you want a little company,” she told him.

  “Thank you.” He took a step back and closed the door for her.

  He limped back to the porch and waved until she couldn’t see him in the rearview mirror anymore. The house was empty when she got home that evening, so she rolled her suitcase into her bedroom and fell backward onto the end of the bed. With her feet dangling off the end, she stared at the ceiling. How in the hell had she fallen in love with a man in only a week’s time?

  “You’re home!” Bonnie dragged herself into the room and sat down beside her. She removed her own well-worn cowboy boots and tossed them to the side and then leaned back so that she was in the same position as her sister—legs hanging off the end of the bed. “I missed you, and I’m tired of doing all the chores around here, so welcome home.”

  “So you don’t want to own the ranch all by yourself?” Shiloh asked.

  “Yep, I do, but if there’s a chance you ain’t never comin’ back, I’ll hire some help. I guess since you’re here that the doctor released Waylon, right?”

  “He did,” Shiloh answered.

  “And then Waylon released you,” Bonnie giggled. “So what did that lawyer want with y’all?”

  “Seems that if Granny Denison’s relatives didn’t want her property with the stipulation that since it was family land, they couldn’t sell it, then she was giving it to Waylon. So he gained ten acres and her house today,” Shiloh answered. “You ever been in that house?”

  “One time,” Bonnie said. “Remember when one of Waylon’s cows got out and came across the road? You’d gone to Claude to buy groceries, so me and Abby Joy herded the old heifer back over to Waylon’s place. Only it wasn’t his cow. We walked her over to Granny Denison’s, only to find out that it wasn’t hers either.”

  Shiloh nodded. “I remember you telling me that story.” “Whose cow was it?”

  “Belonged to the Dunlaps on the other side of Waylon’s place. Granny called them and they brought a cattle trailer down to get her,” Bonnie answered. “Anyway, Granny invited us in for a glass of lemonade. It’s a pretty good-size house. Maybe four or five bedrooms. She said that her folks raised a bunch of kids there.”

  “Should make a fine bunkhouse then,” Shiloh said.

  “Oh, yeah, but he might want to do some paintin’. Every room I saw was either painted pink or pale blue. I can’t see cowboys appreciating that kind of livin’ quarters.” Bonnie slapped her on the arm. “Enough lazin’ around. We’ve got supper to cook. Rusty will be in here in a few minutes, and he’ll be hungry as I am.”

  Shiloh sat up. “You ever think that maybe we should both follow in Abby Joy’s footsteps and leave this place to Rusty? I don’t think Ezra wanted us to get along when he made his will. He wanted us to fight and be hateful to one another, and then leave the canyon so that a boy would still get the place.”

  “I’m here to prove him wrong,” Bonnie said. “You havin’ second thoughts?”

  “Let’s just say that I’m lookin’ at things from a different perspective,” Shiloh told her sister.

  “Why’s that?” Bonnie asked.

  “It all started at Granny Denison’s funeral. Sally Mae was crying, so I went back to comfort her. I realized that Ezra isn’t worth the grudge I’ve held against him, or the energy I’ve put into tryin’ to prove that I can run his ranch.” Just saying the words out loud made her feel like a load had been lifted from her shoulders.

  “It’ll cost you a hundred dollars and a bottle of good whiskey.” Bonnie headed out into the hallway.

  “It could be the best money I’d ever spend,” Shiloh
muttered as she stood up and stretched her arms over her head.

  Chapter Nine

  Blister ran out of the house as soon as Waylon opened the door that Friday evening after he’d taken care of the evening chores. The short-legged mutt ran to the nearest bush, took care of business, and was already yipping to be let back in by the time Waylon removed his coat and hung it on a hook.

  “And here I was afraid you’d run off and try to find your way back to Granny’s house,” Waylon told the dog when he opened the door. “You know something, Blister? I wish that Shiloh would find her way back home to this ranch, but that’s not likely to happen. She’s got her heart set on owning the Malloy place, and besides, after the way Ezra tossed her to the side, I don’t know that she’ll ever trust a guy.”

  Blister sat down, and his tail thumped against the kitchen floor.

  “So you agree with me?” Waylon opened the refrigerator and pulled out everything he needed to make himself a couple of hot dogs. “I already miss her, and she’s only been gone a couple of hours. Should I call her after supper?”

  This time Blister swished his tail back and forth across the floor.

  “I thought so,” Waylon said. “I should let her know that you and Callie miss her, and she should come over to Sunday dinner, right?”

  Blister yipped in agreement.

  “You and I are going to be buddies.” Waylon tossed the mutt the end off a hot dog. “We understand each other, don’t we?”

  Waylon’s phone rang, ending the conversation he was having with Blister. He saw that it was his brother Cash and put it on speaker while he finished fixing his supper.

  “Hey, I was goin’ to call y’all after supper, and tell you that the doctor released me, so I’m back on full ranchin’ duty,” Waylon said.

  “That’s great, brother.” Cash’s tone indicated something was wrong.

  Waylon’s blood ran cold until Cash sighed and started talking again. “Me and Rachel broke up, for good this time. She’s been cheating on me with Mitch, and they’re going to get married.”