Rebel Cowboy

by Nicole Helm

  “It is what I do. It is what I have always done.” He looked so serious, so…something she recognized. Not just fear of getting it wrong, but certainty. As if they weren’t really all that different at all.

  But. No, that couldn’t be. He was successful at everything he did. He had people who cared. He had no debt or failing ranches or withdrawn family members at his feet.

  Any sameness was an illusion.

  “You haven’t screwed this up.” She gestured to the ranch, and his gaze followed her gesture. He seemed to take it in, to soak in the surroundings and her words. Then his eyes focused in on her face again.

  “What about us?”

  “There’s…nothing to screw up.”

  His hands went from her shoulders to her neck, then her face, holding her there with his gaze unrelenting and seeing way too much. He always saw way too much.

  “That would break my heart if I didn’t think you were just trying to protect yours.” He pressed his forehead to hers, his hands on her face making it impossible to move, to run away, to lie.

  “I don’t think I have any care left in me, Dan.”

  “I know you don’t want to.” He brushed his mouth against hers. “But you do. Or you wouldn’t be here. You wouldn’t be afraid. I only know that because I am just as fucking afraid, Mel. I’m just not as strong as you to pretend to be.”

  “That isn’t strength.” It was weakness. It was her biggest weakness. Maybe if she hadn’t pretended so hard not to need anyone, Dad would have reengaged, or Caleb would have confided in her, allowed her to help him. Maybe if she didn’t pretend so well, the three of them would be able to ask for help.

  “Then stop. Stop pretending,” he said.

  “What do you want me to say to that?”

  “I don’t want you to— You know what, no. What do I want you to say? That I’m not wrong. That you do care about me, even if I screw it up. You care. That’s what I want to know.”

  If she gave him that, it would be used as a weapon against her. If she gave him that, she’d have to admit it to herself. She’d have to give up her pretense. She’d actually have to be strong instead of perfecting the illusion of strength.

  “But don’t say it if it’s a lie,” he said.

  “It’s not a lie.” She closed her eyes, because she knew she would live to regret this. Regret believing this could be anything when nothing ever stayed. But if caring about him wasn’t a lie, and if he needed the truth, how could she deny him that?

  She swallowed all the doubt away, and it wasn’t nearly as hard as it should have been. “I care about you.” The words slipped out, truth stronger than any pretense.

  His mouth covered hers and she was done thinking, pretending, trying. She was feeling, giving, and taking. Regardless of the outcome.

  * * *

  That overwhelming, chest-filling thing was back, to the point of pain. Dan didn’t care. He didn’t care because Mel was kissing him and…and she cared about him. She did. He was going to do everything, everything in his power not to screw that up.

  Thunder rumbled in the distance, but he didn’t stop kissing her until the random drops of rain became steadier, lightning flashing repeatedly after each low boom. Reluctantly, he pulled away.

  “I guess I should make sure Mystery’s locked up,” he said. A fat drop of rain fell on Mel’s nose, traveled the slope down, punctuated by another flash in the sky. “Get inside. It’ll only take a minute.”

  She paused, her gaze never leaving his face. He could only barely make her out in the weak light from the stables.

  “I’ll come with,” she said, her voice rough.

  It was such a small thing, a nothing offer, but the way she said it, the way she slipped her hand into his when he offered it, felt a whole hell of a lot bigger than nothing. She wasn’t keeping herself locked away where he couldn’t reach. She was opening herself up.

  They walked to the stables hand in hand, and despite the rain’s force increasing, neither of them moved to rush, to hurry. Walking hand in hand in the middle of a storm, he wasn’t sure he’d ever been happier.

  Well, that probably wasn’t true. There was getting drafted, and signing a monster contract, and a million other successes that had to matter more than walking hand in hand with someone. It had just been long enough he’d forgotten.

  Or something.

  “She must have already gone inside.”

  “Smart girl, my llama.”

  Mel’s laugh was…he had no words for what that sound did to his chest, to this evening. When he’d walked out with the charming fuck you on his lips, he was sure he’d blown it all, but he hadn’t been able to suck back in that anger.

  It had worked out. For once in his life, expressing the conflict inside of him had turned out okay. Better than. She said she cared, she was holding his hand, and…

  “I don’t see her.” Mel’s brows drew together as she looked in each pen. “Maybe I missed her outside in the dark.”

  “I’ll go check.” A thorough check of the outside pen had a knot forming in his gut. Nothing. With the dark and the rain, surely they were just…missing a large, furry creature. “She’s not out here.”

  Mel stood in the opening between pasture and stables, holding a flashlight. “She’s not here either. Should we switch and look one more time?”

  He looked out into the dark storm. They could keep looking here, but how had they both missed her twice? That couldn’t be possible. “I guess if she mysteriously got in, she could have mysteriously gotten out.”

  “You want to do a quick look around the fence line?”

  “You go inside. I’ll look.”

  “You’ll need help to corral her back. Come on. Let’s go.” Mel pointed the light into the rain in front of them, but he found himself leading the way. Thus far, Mystery hadn’t shown any inclination of trying to escape, but she did like to graze in the southern corner in the afternoons.

  So he started there, and even though it was a little stupid, since he wasn’t searching for a dog, he called her name out into the steady lull of rain. They fanned out from the pasture, the beam of the flashlight not giving them much to work with.

  When Mel’s flashlight landed on something white, she immediately jerked the light back to it.

  “Christ.” Mystery was right up against the barbed wire, and that could not be good.

  “Oh, damn,” Mel breathed.

  Yeah, definitely not good. He stepped forward, but Mystery nipped and then made a truly horrible bleating sound.

  “She’s stuck in the fence.”

  Dan tried to get closer again. “What do I do?” Thunder rolled and lightning flashed, and what the hell was he supposed to do? “We have to get her out of there.”

  “We need wire cutters. Another flashlight. Gloves.” Mel pushed a hand through her wet hair.

  “You know where all that is, right? You could run back and get it.”

  She didn’t even respond, just started jogging back to the stables. Dan turned back to Mystery. His heart thundered in his ears—or was that the thunder? Dan had no idea.

  “Hey, girl. It’s all right.” He swallowed down the squeaky note in his voice. “We’ll get you out. But let’s keep still, huh?” He knew it was stupid to talk to a llama like it had any idea what he was saying, but it was the only thing he could think to do.

  Mel returned with all the tools bundled in her hands and another flashlight. “I tried to call the vet, but he didn’t answer. I left a message. Once we get her free, I’ll try his mom. I’m pretty sure I have her number.”

  “Small towns, huh?” he said, trying to keep calm. “So you cut her out of the fence and I’ll try to keep her calm. She’s a bit more of a fan of me than you.”

  “You’ll want to keep her steady. Can you hold her still?”

  “Let’s find out.
” It was not something he particularly wanted to do, especially with the threat of actually being bitten or kicked, but it was the only option they had. So he did it. He stepped closer, and despite a few nips and horrible noises, he got close enough to touch her, to do his best to find a hold that would keep her from bolting.

  Mel worked with the fence, but he could tell she was struggling.

  “I can’t get a good enough grip to cut it. Everything is too wet. Damn, I wish I had my hat.”

  Dan moved up Mystery’s flank, doing his best to keep his movements smooth, keep her calm. “Let me try.”

  Mel handed him the wire cutters, and he tried to keep himself close enough to Mystery that she wouldn’t try to bolt once she was free. “You just stay put now, all right?” he murmured.

  The rain was still falling at a steady pace, and with the gloves Mel handed him, he couldn’t get a good enough grip either. So he stripped them off.

  “Be careful of the barbed wire. You don’t want to get hurt too.”

  But he couldn’t get where he needed to be with the gloves, and if he got a little scraped up, so be it.

  Without the gloves, he managed to cut through one side of the fence, but to get the other side that needed to be cut, he was going to have to go around the llama again. “All right, little lady, I’m going to move to the other side, but you’re not going to move. Got it?”

  Mel didn’t say anything, but she kept the flashlight trained on the fence so when he got to the other side he could quickly snip it free.

  The problem was…now what?

  He took a deep breath. They needed a vet. Surely someone who knew anything about animals. What was he doing acting like he had any clue what to do?

  “You’ve got her pretty calm. Should I go try to call the vet again?”

  “Shine the light on where she was caught.”

  Mel trained the flashlight beam on Mystery’s leg. It was matted with blood and a piece of the barbed wire was stuck. Deep and unsettling. Dan had to look away, take a deep breath. “Yeah. I’m not sure what more I can do.”

  “You’ve done so much, Dan. Really. I’m going to call him again, and if I can’t get a hold of him, I’ll find someone who can. Just keep her calm and as immobile as possible.”

  “Yeah. Just…hurry, I guess.” Surely blood and barbed wire couldn’t be good. How long would it take to get a vet out here? A while, surely. Dan rubbed a palm down Mystery’s wet, shaggy wool. “It’ll be okay.” Which he didn’t believe and she didn’t understand, so he wasn’t at all sure why he said it.

  Mel returned, and then after a while, the vet. All three of them worked in the dark to get Mystery sedated and moved back to the stables, where the vet carefully removed the barbed wire and bandaged her up, saying she was lucky it hadn’t caused damage to any bone or tendons. Dan stayed by her side the whole time—this strange creature who’d come into his life and given him a purpose.

  A few hours later, Mystery sedated and dry in the stables, Mel and the vet long since gone, Dan finally forced himself to leave her in search of dry clothes.

  When he stepped inside the cabin, Mel was in the kitchen, scribbling something on a piece of paper. But she turned to him and smiled. “I was about to come get you. Sit. You’re probably starving.”

  “I don’t know what I am,” he said. Which was true. He was beyond hungry, beyond exhausted. But Mystery was okay. So said the vet, as long as infection didn’t set in, and Dan was sure as hell going to make sure it didn’t.

  Mel placed a bowl of soup in front of him, and then slid a piece of paper next to it. “What’s this?” He frowned down at the paper. There was a stick figure drawn on it, Rancher Badge written across the top.

  “You’ve just earned your first rancher badge. Dealing with a hurt animal. Congratulations.”

  He slumped in the chair, exhaustion settling even deeper. He’d actually handled it. Really well, all in all. Maybe not on his own, but he’d gotten in there and snipped the fence and helped the vet. “I think I’m going to need something a little more official.”

  She crossed to him and framed his face with her hands—something he wasn’t sure she’d ever done. Her calloused palms were rough against his damp skin. She felt warm and dry and perfect, and her smile was like a blanket on a cold day.

  “You, Dan Sharpe, did it.”

  “I had a lot of help.”

  “You knew just what to do, and you directed it. If I hadn’t been there, you’d have done it on your own. It would have been harder, but you would have done it. Because you didn’t once back away.”

  He didn’t say anything to that, didn’t know what he could say. Beneath the tiredness and the headache and chill of the rain and the night and the fear…satisfaction bloomed, soft and warm.

  You didn’t once back away.

  She brushed a kiss over his mouth. “Now eat.”

  She went to step away, but he liked having her there more than his stomach rumbled for the soup. So he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her to him, resting his cheek against her abdomen.

  She chuckled softly, but her hands brushed over his hair, then her fingers trailed through it. He was pretty sure he could fall asleep right here. Sitting in a chair, pressed to Mel.

  You didn’t once back away. No, he’d handled the whole thing, and there hadn’t been time to overthink it or worry he was screwing it up. He’d just done it.

  Mel kissed the top of his head. This was the weirdest damn day.

  “I’ll work on getting you a more official-looking badge.”

  Dan looked at the sad little drawing and managed to laugh. “Actually, this might be about perfect.” He released her and focused on the soup.

  Just about perfect. Huh. Wasn’t that something?

  Chapter 20

  Mel woke up to her phone alarm and Dan’s clock chiming at the same time. It was like the sound track to the past week. This weird normal that wasn’t normal at all.

  Sharing a bed with somebody. A shower. A morning routine. Working together to build something.

  No, that wasn’t normal, and it would be stupid to entertain any thoughts or feelings or fantasies that it ever might be.

  She wished the routine, the difference, Dan would smooth over everything else, make her forget. But it felt more like limbo, a world that didn’t really exist. She was putting off the inevitable, only she didn’t know what the inevitability was going to be.

  For the seventh day in a row, she woke away from the house she’d grown up in. She had never been away for so long before, and while waking up in Dan’s bed wasn’t such a bad exchange, it did nothing for the worry that gripped her every morning.

  Were they okay? Had Caleb found a nurse for Dad, had he drunk himself to death, had the cows escaped and no one knew or cared? Should she go back? Was that weak? Was being here weak?

  Was there some right answer she couldn’t find because she wasn’t strong enough?

  She hated it. Hated this feeling. Hated that she didn’t know what else to do. She tried—she failed. She walked away—she failed. Everything was a failure when it came to Shaw.

  And every morning she woke up next to Dan and wondered what the hell she was supposed to do now? When nothing she could think of fixed anything, and Dan was so damn careful with her. Like she was delicate, broken. Someone who needed ease and comfort, sweet touches, calming words.

  Those things did nothing more than piss her off. Make her snappy and bitchy, but he just kept being so damn sweet and quiet and there. Saving llamas and changing their bandages like…

  She didn’t know what. And she didn’t know what to do.

  So for the seventh damn day in a row, she had tears in her eyes before she got out of bed, and Dan’s arms came around her, a comforting embrace that was anything but.

  This wasn’t something to treat her like glued-tog
ether glass over. It was just life. Life once you gave up the illusion of anyone being able to endure, to give, to rise to the occasion. No one could do that.

  Not even her.

  Dan kissed the back of her neck. Sweet. Comforting. She wished she didn’t lack the ability to be comforted.

  “I hate that you wake up upset every morning,” he said in a sleep-heavy voice.

  The downright concern in that statement had her bristling. “I’m not—” His arms tightened enough that she couldn’t finish her sentence.

  “If you tell me you’re not upset, I’m going to toss you out of this bed, Shaw.” The sleep was gone from his voice, but even though it was sharp, that underlying sweet, worrying care was there, and she wanted to escape.

  His grip didn’t loosen, but she managed a breath and tried to change the subject. “Oh, now you’re last-naming me?”

  “I’m taking all sorts of lessons from you, honey.” His arms gentled and he kissed the back of her neck again and, oh, screw him.

  “Maybe it’s time you talked to them.”

  “About what?” She pushed Dan’s arms off of her because that was some kind of spell. Feeling cared for and comforted and like there were answers. If she hadn’t found answers in the five years since Dad’s accident, why would Dan’s arms around her make her think she could now?

  “Talk to them about what happened.”

  She got into a sitting position, ready to bolt off the bed, but Dan’s hand curled around her wrist. She refused to look at the point of contact, even if she felt it everywhere. Even if it mattered despite her not wanting it to. She gritted her teeth. “If I knew how to make it right, I would have done that already.”

  “I didn’t say make it right. I said talk. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m no expert on this. I haven’t really talked about anything…since my parents made me go to counseling, but—”

  She whirled to face him. “Why did your parents make you go to counseling?” She could not even imagine.

  “Oh, you know, divorce stuff. I was kind of a mess of a kid, didn’t take it well. But the point is I started running away instead of…well, the other night. We yelled at each other, but real stuff came out. Maybe that’s what you need to do with them too.”