One Texas Cowboy Too Many (Burnt Boot, Texas)

by Carolyn Brown

  “Why are you asking?” Mavis whispered.

  “I was thinking about her and a memory popped up. I look like her, don’t I? What is your problem with her anyway?”

  “You’re old enough to know, Leah. I’ve kept you and Declan protected from the whole sordid story, but before I open this can of worms, why don’t you leave well enough alone and trust me?”

  “Open the can,” Leah said.

  Mavis frowned. “Remember you asked for it.”

  “Yes, I did,” Leah said.

  “Your mother was the resident bad girl of Burnt Boot. They moved here when she was seventeen and your dad was eighteen. We hired her father to help on River Bend, not knowing that her mother was a drunk who flirted with every hired hand on the place.” Mavis paused.

  “Go on,” Leah said.

  “Her dad wasn’t much better, but he did stay sober through the week and was a good hand. Because Eden lived on the ranch, she attended our school, and your dad fell under her spell. Lord only knows how hard I tried to break it up. I sent him to college here in Texas and gave her money to go to school in California. She got on a bus in Gainesville and followed him to his college, and they lived together for a year before they went to the courthouse and got married.”

  “Maybe I got the rebellion from him instead of my mama,” Leah said.

  “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” Mavis took a deep breath and hesitated before she said, “It’s time for you to go.”

  Leah’s phone rang before she could stand up. She smiled when she saw that it was Rhett and nodded as he told her that he’d be a little bit late.

  She slipped the phone back into her purse and told her grandmother, “You might as well get the whole story out right now. My date is going to be at six thirty instead of six.”

  “Eden slept with several of the boys before she settled on your father. Of course, she would want the best, and by that I mean the one with the most money,” Mavis said.

  “You know for a fact that she slept around?”

  Mavis nodded. “Your dad told me he didn’t care if he wasn’t first with her because she damn sure wasn’t his first. What mattered was that they were last with each other. They didn’t have kids until your dad finished college, and then they moved back to River Bend and she had Declan the next year and two years after that you were born.”

  “And?” Leah asked.

  “Her mother died from too much whiskey and her dad left River Bend. She got in touch with an old boyfriend and had an affair. Didn’t even deny it when your dad confronted her. So I calculated how much money she’d get in child support until you and Declan were eighteen and gave it to her in a lump sum to leave River Bend.”

  Leah checked her watch. “Go on.”

  “I don’t give second chances. Neither does your dad. She yelled and screamed that she wouldn’t leave her precious children behind, but she crawled on that cycle with that hippie and took the check I’d written with her. We never heard from her again,” Mavis said. “Since Rhett O’Donnell moved in next door, I’ve seen that same look in your eye that she had in hers that morning she left.”

  “I’m not my mother,” Leah said.

  “Prove it.” Mavis stood up and headed for the door. “You are right; it’s hot out here. I’m going in for some iced sweet tea. Join me and tell that hippie cowboy that you aren’t interested in him?”

  “I’ve got a date.”

  “Remember what I said, child. Either this is the last one, or you’ll leave. Only you don’t get a check.”

  How in the hell had something that big never been talked about all over Burnt Boot? Surely everyone knew about it at the time and even twenty-five years wouldn’t have covered up that story. Not when folks still talked about Rayford Brennan’s hanging and that was a hundred years ago.

  The story about her mother was slowly settling into her heart. None of it surprised her. Her grandmother had always had the last word. Someday in the near future, she intended to corner her father and get his version of the story of Eden and the man she left River Bend with that day.

  What if I can’t be true to the man I fall in love with? The question was like a hard punch to her gut.

  She turned on the air conditioner in her truck and let it blow on her face for a full minute before she put the truck in reverse and backed out of the driveway. Could she walk away and leave two precious children? Was she hardwired with that kind of DNA? Did her mother ever truly love her father? Was Eden even capable of love? If not, did she pass on that inability to Leah?

  Leah put the vehicle in gear and drove to the school lot reserved for teacher parking. She was determined to put it all out of her mind and think about it tomorrow. Like little orphan Annie sang in the childhood movie she liked so well, tomorrow was only a day away, and tonight might be the last time she ever got to see Rhett O’Donnell other than in passing.

  She truly wanted it to be a night to remember, even if it was only a fifteen-minute ride down through Burnt Boot toward the river and back to town for a beer at the bar. Tomorrow, she’d leave with Honey and Kinsey, like she did every summer. They’d stay at a fancy hotel in Times Square and shop, party, shop, and party some more until they were sick of the big-city life and ready to come home to Burnt Boot. Honey and Kinsey had been researching spas and nightspots. In the past, Leah had gone along with whatever they’d wanted, but not this year. She was spending her days taking long walks in Central Park and her nights in the hotel room making a lot of decisions.

  The DJ on the radio said something about the heat and then Trent Tomlinson started singing “One Wing in the Fire.” She turned off the highway and nodded in agreement with the lyrics that said his daddy was an angel with no halo and one wing in the fire. Was that the story of her mama? Was she a woman with no halo and one wing in the fire?

  The temperature was hovering in the high nineties, and the sun was hanging on the western horizon, still a big, yellow ball fighting against going to bed for the night, when she heard the roar of the cycle. Her heart tossed in a couple of extra beats when she caught sight of Rhett with a red bandanna do-rag on his head. The sleeves of his chambray shirt had been cut off, leaving frayed edges around his big biceps, which sported a farmer’s tan. The tight-fitting jeans, big silver belt buckle with steer horns on it, and boots said that he was a cowboy, not a motorcycle hippie.

  She got out of her car and leaned against the fender.

  He stopped the cycle a few feet from her, kicked the stand down, and slung his leg over the side. “Hey, don’t you look gorgeous tonight. Does Cinderella have to be home at midnight?”

  “Only if that thing turns into a pumpkin then. In that case, I’d like to be home. I don’t think I’d fit too well inside a pumpkin,” she answered.

  “Ain’t never happened before. I reckon if it turned into anything, it might be a rangy old bull.” Rhett took a couple of long strides and held out his hand.

  She put her hand in his and the heat that passed between them had nothing to do with the thermometer or the hot wind sweeping up from the south.

  “First, we put this on you.” He let go of her hand, whipped out a do-rag from his hip pocket, and deftly tied it over her head.

  His touch sent delicious shivers down her spine, and she forgot all about anything but spending time with him.

  “And then this.” He opened up the saddlebags and pulled out a fancy helmet that he settled onto her head. “Fits fine. Touch this button and you can talk to me. Touch this one and listen to the radio station of your choice. Please tell me that you like country music.”

  “I do.” She nodded.

  “Then sit back and enjoy the trip.”

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “To a country music concert.” He smiled.

  Chapter 8

  Freedom.

  Pure, unadulterated freedom.

  That’s what Leah felt as the wind whipped past her body at more than seventy miles per hour with Miranda L
ambert singing “Mama’s Broken Heart” in her ears. The lyrics said that she was breaking up with her feller and her mother was telling her what she had to do to keep face. The line that kept going through Leah’s mind was something about how her mama raised her better, but it wasn’t her mama’s broken heart.

  “And now let’s go back twenty-five years and listen to Garth. The seventh listener to call me with the exact year and name of this song this will win a signed CD with this song on it,” the DJ said.

  “‘The Dance,’” she said.

  Rhett’s deep drawl came right inside the helmet with her. “Nineteen ninety. My cousin still sings this when we get together. Mama played it a lot when it first came out. I was a little kid, but I remember her dancing with Daddy.”

  Suddenly, the song meant much more as Leah remembered her mama swaying in front of the window in the heat of that summer that she left. Could she have been thinking about leaving her children and wondering why she gave birth to them in the first place if she was going to suffer the pain of leaving them?

  “You’re awfully quiet back there,” Rhett said.

  “I’m lovin’ this country music concert,” she answered.

  “Oh, honey, this is only the opening show. The real concert is at the end of the journey.”

  “That sounds like a country song.” She laughed.

  “Maybe someday we’ll go into the songwriting business in addition to managing a bar and running a ranch and teaching school.”

  “I’m not sure I’m that good at multitasking,” she said.

  At seven thirty on the button, he made a left-hand turn and slowed the cycle. They’d come to the end of their journey, and Leah was sure they were about to turn around because there was no way on God’s green earth there was a country music concert going on in Ringgold, Texas. It had less than a hundred people in it and only a handful of houses lined the intersection where Highway 82 and Highway 81 met.

  A mile down the road, he made another left and pulled up into the yard of the O’Donnell Ranch, according to the swinging sign above the arch they’d passed under a couple hundred yards back. He parked the cycle beside a long row of trucks and swung off, shook the legs of his jeans down over his boots, and removed his helmet and hung it on the bull horns. Then his hands circled her waist and he lifted her off the cycle like she was no more than a sack full of chicken feathers. He carefully removed her helmet, hung it on the other side of the horns, and helped her remove the do-rag and the long-sleeved shirt, which did, indeed, have some dead bugs on it.

  “Where are we?” she asked.

  “At the concert,” he answered. “That would be my family over there, under the shade tree, doin’ the concert.”

  “This is your family?” Her eyes widened.

  “Yep, they said they were playin’ tonight, so I thought we’d ride over and listen to them and…” He slipped an arm around her waist.

  “Hey, Rhett, bring your lady friend on over here and make her acquainted with some of us. I need a rest from the drums, so make it fast. You can take over after this one,” a dark-haired man yelled.

  “You play?” Leah asked.

  “Little bit.”

  “And sing?”

  “Little bit.” He crossed the green grass and the whole place went quiet. “Hey, everyone. This is Leah Brennan from over at Burnt Boot. She tells me she likes country music, so I brought her along. Don’t know if she sings or plays, but she’s so damn pretty, she can sit out here on a quilt, and I can watch the sun set behind her.”

  Leah blushed. “My God, Rhett.”

  “It’s the truth, darlin’,” he whispered and then raised his voice. “Now, y’all make yourself known to her. One at a time, please, and no stories tonight. I don’t want to scare her away.”

  “Well, boy, you might have already done that when you brought her here. I’m Cash O’Donnell, this ornery boy’s uncle. And this is my wife, Maddie. The rest of them you can get to know better each time Rhett brings you to visit. Rhett, you go on and give Raylen a rest. We’ve had him singin’ for half an hour,” Cash said.

  “Yes, sir.” Rhett grinned.

  Maddie stepped up and threw an arm around Leah’s shoulders. She was a tall woman, big boned, and with dark hair sprinkled with a touch of gray. “You come on with me, honey, and we’ll tell you tales that might make you change your mind about that cowboy. I swear his mama nearly died when he brought that cycle home.”

  * * *

  “Hey, Rhett. Glad to see you again. Leah sure is sure pretty. How’d you snag a woman like that?” Gemma teased. “I’m his cousin, darlin’. We were the wild ones in the family. I rode bareback broncs and he rode a cycle.”

  “Miracles do still happen.” Rhett smiled. “And don’t listen to her, Leah. She’s married and has a beautiful daughter these days.” Rhett settled in behind the big set of drums.

  “I’m sittin’ this one out,” Rye said. “And I’m Gemma’s brother, Rye.” He introduced himself. “That would be my wife, Austin, and our two kids over there on the quilt.”

  “Let’s do an Alan Jackson number,” Granny said.

  Cash pulled Maddie to her feet, and they started two-stepping as Rhett leaned into the microphone beside the drums sang about walking through fire without blinking. Leah’s eyes locked on his and she smiled.

  She mouthed the words at the end of the song, and he motioned for her to join him. At first she shook her head, but his eyes drew her to him a step at a time until she was behind the microphone.

  “Do you know ‘Heaven’s Just a Sin Away’ by the Kendalls?” he asked.

  She nodded. “I do.”

  He handed the drumsticks to a cousin and led her to the microphone in front of the band. The two of them leaned forward, their eyes still locked together as she sang the lyrics about how his eyes kept tempting her. When she harmonized with him on the part about heaven being a sin away, the whole crowd whooped and yelled.

  They sang two more songs together, and then Rhett handed the microphone to his grandmother. “It’s time for someone else to take the stage. Honest, folks, I didn’t even know this woman could sing, but now that I do, I’m going to hold on real tight.”

  “One more, darlin’,” his granny said to Leah. “I want to hear that sweet voice of yours do ‘Amazing Grace.’ I bet you sing in church, don’t you?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Leah said. “But only if Rhett will sing with me.”

  “I could sing that one in my sleep.” He smiled.

  Chills danced up and down his back and the hair on his arms stood straight up when she hit the high notes in the old hymn. When they finished, the whole yard was quiet for several seconds before the applause started.

  Granny hugged Rhett and whispered, “She’s a keeper.”

  “Here’s your guitar back, Rye. I’ve got something better to hold for the rest of the evening,” Rhett said.

  * * *

  Leah was amazed that she’d been so comfortable up there in front of complete strangers, singing with a man she’d only met a week ago.

  “Let’s go inside and get a beer or a glass of sweet tea. Singing is hard work,” Rhett said.

  “Speakin’ of hard work, that reminds me. They’ve bulldozed our school and our kids will be going to public school this year. I’m not sure how it’s going to work, having Gallaghers and Brennans in the same school, but I guess we’ll see,” she said.

  Rhett opened the door to a huge kitchen and went straight for the refrigerator. “My insurance agent said my truck is totaled and they’ll send me a check next week. Y’all want to haul it to the junkyard for me?”

  “I’ll see to it that Declan does that.” She nodded.

  “Beer?”

  “Please.”

  He twisted the tops off two bottles and handed one to her. “You surprised me out there, Leah. I thought you’d be shy.”

  “I am most of the time. Don’t know what got into me. Guess it’s hidden genes popping out.”

  “We
ll, I sure like ’em, so turn ’em loose and let it rip.” He grinned.

  “Seems like I don’t have much control over that.” She smiled back at him.

  Music came through the open screen door, and she swayed to it as she tipped her beer up. When she set it down, Rhett wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her close to him. Suddenly, they were doing a country waltz around the kitchen to a George Strait song.

  Leah looked up and didn’t even have time to moisten her lips before Rhett’s eyes shut and his mouth was on hers. It had the sweetness of ice cream, the fire of a double shot of Jack Daniel’s, and the steam of a hot Texas summer night all rolled into one.

  When he ended it, she remembered what she needed to tell him. “Hey, I’m leaving tomorrow.”

  “How long will you be gone?”

  “A week. We’ll be back the day before the Sadie Hawkins Festival,” she said.

  He toyed with a strand of her hair. “I’ll miss you, Leah. We can talk and text, right?”

  “Of course we can. We’re going to New York City, not the moon. This year, Kinsey got to choose the place and make the plans. I got to do it last year, and we spent a week on the beach in Florida,” she said.

  He took her hand in his and led her back to the table where they’d set their beers. “You’re probably going to find some rich entrepreneur and forget all about this old dirt-poor cowboy you left behind in Texas.”

  “No I won’t,” she protested, then blinked up at him several times. “And if I did, we’d always have Ringgold.”

  “You, Leah Brennan, are wicked. You come off as a shy schoolteacher, but underneath that homespun is someone else.”

  “I don’t let my alter ego come out and play very often. Matter of fact, I only discovered this past week that she lives inside of me,” Leah said.

  “So I’m the first one to meet her?” Rhett moved close enough to push her blond hair over her shoulder and plant a kiss on her neck.

  “I do believe you are. She’s so new that she hasn’t been named yet, but I’m thinking about calling her Eve.”