Cook County Cowboys

by Crystal-Rain Love

  “Never that.” Lucky leaned forward and cupped her face with one of his rough-skinned but gentle hands. “You could never be ugly, but I gotta admit…my stomach’s in knots right now. I’m no doctor, but I know that isn’t good. What is it, honey, and what can I do to make it better?”

  Tears cascaded faster down Cammie’s cheeks and she scrubbed at them in vain. She hated asking for help, admitting weakness. This wasn’t the way she wanted Lucky to see her, but there was no way she could get out of bed by herself judging by the pain shooting through her leg.

  “Can you run me a hot bath?” she managed to get out after taking a deep breath to halt her sobbing. “The hot water helps with the pain.”

  Lucky stared at her for a long moment, a hundred questions in his eyes, before nodding and quickly pulling on his jeans that had been tossed aside the night before and leaving the room.

  Cammie used the bed sheet to blot her watery eyes as she heard him starting the bath for her. She’d barely ceased crying when he returned and swept her up into his strong arms and carried her, silently, into the bathroom. Wordlessly, he lowered her into the bathtub and grabbed the scrunchie she kept on her spacesaver.

  “What else do you need?” he asked as he secured her hair with the scrunchie, making a simple ponytail to keep it dry.

  “My medicine,” Cammie answered reluctantly as she sank down into the tub, welcoming the wet heat that quickly set to work, easing the pain in her lower body. It wouldn’t be enough, though. She needed to take the blasted pills. “In the medicine cabinet.”

  Lucky crossed over to the sink to retrieve the medication. Cammie cringed as she heard his quick intake of breath. She didn’t even want to think what thoughts were going through his mind as he took in all the pill bottles. “The brown horse pills. I need two.”

  He glanced at her with eyes full of sorrow before turning back to peruse the shelves. It took him a moment, but he managed to find the big pills and shake two out of the bottle before replacing it and closing the cabinet, hiding the sight of all those pills. Unfortunately, she feared the image would stay in his mind.

  “I’ll get you a glass of water.”

  Fresh tears fell in silence as Cammie watched him walk away. The very air had shifted the moment he’d laid eyes on her swollen ankle and taken in the rash marring the bottom of her legs. The sad way he’d looked at her after seeing the various pills she’d been prescribed didn’t give her much hope. She was no longer Cammie May, she was Sick Girl. She feared the man who Cammie May was gaining ground with would run like hell away from Sick Girl.

  He returned with a glass of water and sat on the edge of the tub before handing it and the pills over. The tub now full, he reached over and twisted the faucets to stop the flow of water. “I’ve only seen one other person with that many pills,” he said solemnly as he straightened back up and watched her swallow down the large pills, hand held out for the glass. “My mother popped every pill she could get her hands on when she was out of stuff to snort or inject into her system. I know that’s not you, though.”

  Cammie handed back the glass and waited for him to set it on the spacesaver and face her again before admitting, “I’m sick.”

  “I gathered that.” He swallowed hard. “When I saw those pills…I had a flashback of my mother, but I quickly squashed that thought. My next thought…” His eyes glistened as he studied her. “I remembered Ladies Night at Hell’s Belle, and your story about your friend. You weren’t talking about a friend, were you?”

  Cammie shook her head.

  “Why, Cam? Why didn’t you tell me you were the one sick?”

  “Would you be here now?” She sniffed as her nose and eyes burned with the threat of more tears. “I wanted a night to be young and free, to go for what I wanted, and I wanted you. I wanted a chance to be with you and know it was because you wanted to be with me. Who would want to be with someone sick like me?”

  “Are you dying?”

  “We all are, aren’t we?”

  “You know what I mean,” he snapped before closing his eyes and breathing deeply, visually calming himself. “You said something about a kidney transplant.”

  “My kidneys aren’t in great shape,” she admitted. “Doc’s put me on a new medication that he’s hoping will stop the damage from worsening.”

  “Stopping further damage is good, but will it improve the condition of your kidneys?”

  Cammie shook her head. “He doesn’t think so. There are some experimental drugs he’d like to try on me for that, but they’re expensive, and not covered by insurance, not that my insurance is all that spectacular anyway.”

  “Experimental?” Lucky’s forehead wrinkled with deep thought. “How safe are experimental drugs?”

  “Doc Hollis wouldn’t let me try anything if he thought it would hurt me,” Cammie said, despite having wondered the same thing herself.

  “Not if he knows what he’s talking about. What do you have, Cam? Is Doc Hollis the best doctor to be treating you?”

  “I have a rare autoimmune disease, similar to lupus,” Cammie explained. “You know we only have two doctors in Cook County, and Doc Hollis is the best of the two.”

  “There are specialists in Denver. I can take you there.”

  “Can you pay?” Cammie snapped, “because I sure can’t.” She rested her head along the back of the tub and let out a frustrated sigh. “I’m sorry, Lucky. I’m not mad at you. I’m just sick of…being sick.”

  “It’s okay.” He offered her a small, very forced smile. “You have every right to be upset. Cammie, if…” He licked his lips, seeming to mull over his words. “We weren’t very careful the first time we slept together. How bad will it be for you if you’re pregnant?”

  “It won’t be good,” she answered honestly, voice shaking a little. “For me or the baby.”

  “And you wouldn’t even consider—”

  “No, I would not consider an abortion,” she cut him off. “Not even to save my life. It’s against everything I believe in.”

  “I can’t take any more death,” Lucky said softly, just barely above a whisper.

  Unsure what to say to that, and unsure whether he meant he couldn’t take her death or the death of a baby they may or may not have conceived, she didn’t respond.

  “It’s all right. We’re gonna get you through this.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Got any bacon and eggs? I can fix us up some breakfast while you soak.”

  She blinked, not expecting the sudden change in topic. “Yeah. That’d be good.”

  “All right. I’m gonna get the food going. Call me if you need anything.”

  She watched as Lucky left the bathroom, her mind reeling. Lucky Masters, self-professed eternal bachelor had just made a statement that sounded very much like he was planning on standing by her side in her time of need. Surely she was reading too much into his words, hearing what she wanted to hear.

  ****

  “Well, this is a switch, getting a call from you to meet at the bar,” Chance commented as he pulled out the chair opposite Lucky’s at a table in the darkest, most private corner of Hell’s Belle. “Usually the call is coming from Rho, and you’re in the background cussin’ up a storm about how you don’t need your dickhead brother swinging by to change your diapers.”

  Lucky looked up from the bottle he’d been twirling around in his hand. “I say crap like that?”

  “Oh yeah. You’re a real sweetheart when you’re all liquored up.” Chance settled into his chair and leaned back, eyeing Lucky curiously. “You don’t look drunk, and you’re not surrounded by a fortress of empty beer bottles. The surprises keep on coming.”

  “Maybe there’s hope for me yet.” Lucky set down the bottle he’d barely taken two sips out of, and leaned forward. “When Mark Calhoun was alive, every ranch hand in the county wanted to work for him. They said he took good care of his people, had good insurance for them.”

  “He did take care of his ranch hands. You remember
working for him during the summer in your teens.”

  “Have you and Kenzie continued taking care of the ranch hands, maintained a good insurance policy?”

  “Yeah.” Chance frowned. “What’s this about, Luck?”

  “If I agree to come work for you, I’ll have insurance coverage, right?”

  Color seeped out of Chance’s face. “What’s wrong, bro? Tell me it’s not cancer.”

  Lucky blinked, let his brother’s words process, and quickly shook his head. “No, I’m fine. Healthy and strong as a bull.”

  “Fuck.” Chance rubbed a hand down his face as he visually collected himself. “Give me a friggin’ heart attack, why don’t ya? What the hell, Luck? What’s going on?”

  Lucky licked his lips, took a moment to reconsider what he was planning. He’d run various scenarios through his head all day, and this was the one that seemed the best way to help Cammie. On the other hand, he feared he might do something to hurt her emotionally. The woman had suffered enough, was still suffering. She didn’t need any more trauma in her life.

  “Luck? What’s up, man?”

  “I’m going to ask Cammie to marry me,” he blurted before he lost the nerve, and braced himself for Chance’s reaction. None came. He lifted his gaze from the table to see his brother staring at him. “Well?” he prodded. “Say something.”

  “Why?”

  “Why say something?” Lucky asked, confused.

  “Why are you marrying her?” Chance leaned forward. “You slept with the woman and freaked out, locked yourself in that shithole-trailer for days, somehow managing to avoid alcohol poisoning before showing up to my wedding drunk.” He shook his head. “If you couldn’t walk down the aisle with her at my wedding without being drunk, how in the hell are you going to walk down the aisle with her at your own wedding?”

  Lucky nearly groaned aloud at the thought of putting on the same type of production Chance and Kenzie’s wedding had been. He sure as hell wasn’t putting on another damn suit.

  “It’s too soon to know if she’s pregnant, so that can’t be the reason.” Chance narrowed his eyes. “Why are you asking about health insurance?”

  Damn. He should have known his protective mama-bear of a brother would pick up on there being something wrong. Well, he’d bluffed his way through more than a few poker games, surely he could bluff through this. “Shouldn’t a man provide for his wife? If I’m going to marry Cammie May, it makes sense I’d have a good health insurance policy to take care of her, for when there are babies on the way.” Not that he was planning on having any babies with Cammie. He’d deal with it if he’d already made that grave mistake with her, but from now on there was no way he was risking a pregnancy.

  Chance stared him down before picking up the barely touched bottle of beer and taking a swig. “You know I want you to work with me, and the health insurance is good. It’s definitely a better set-up than risking your neck bronc-busting for a living.” He frowned. “You are quitting the rodeo, aren’t you?”

  Lucky shrugged. “Plenty of married cowboys.”

  “Plenty of unhappy women married to cowboys,” Chance muttered. “Honestly, Luck. I’d rest a lot easier myself if you never stepped into an arena again. Nearly getting killed can change your opinion on things.”

  Lucky nodded as his gaze slid down to his brother’s side. He knew that beneath the blue and white plaid shirt lay a mother of a scar he’d received after being run through by an angry bull. That incident had ended his brother’s bull riding days for good. “I imagine so.”

  He needed money though, and if he placed well enough in the upcoming rodeo in Denver, he’d have a good chunk of cash to help Cammie out, take her to a specialist there. Get her the experimental medicine, provided the specialist agreed with Doc Hollis about that. There’d be expenses for staying there in the city while she was getting treatment. “I’d like to try for one more fat purse.”

  “Denver?” Chance asked.

  “Yep. Good startup money, you know?”

  “Yeah.” Suspicion still lingered in Chance’s brown eyes. “There’s more to this, and I will get the truth out of you eventually.”

  “Eventually,” he conceded, not bothering to pretend he wasn’t holding something back. His brother knew him too well.

  “I’m looking for a Lucky Masters.”

  Lucky and his brother both turned their heads toward the front of the bar. A tall, gray-headed man in an expensive looking suit and shiny black dress shoes stood there, scanning the room.

  “Son of a bitch.” Chance came out of his chair as a low growl rumbled from his throat.

  Lucky had no idea who the guy was, but he recognized his brother’s war face and quickly stood at his side, ready for whatever was about to go down. He scanned the room, didn’t spot anyone else who might be the man’s backup, and relaxed his shoulders. So far, it didn’t look as if his brother would need help if things went bad. The Masters brothers weren’t punks. They didn’t fight two-to-one…unless they were unfortunate enough to get ganged up on themselves, then they fought like hell against however many were coming at them.

  “You got two seconds to turn around, get in your shiny car, and leave this town,” Chance warned between clenched teeth, “while you can still leave on two legs.”

  The man studied Chance intensely for a moment before the corner of his mouth curved into a grin. “The dark, protective older brother,” he commented before focusing his gaze on Lucky. “That must make you the golden-haired little brother.”

  “Who the fuck is this guy?” Lucky asked, the hairs on the back of his neck standing. He was missing something major here; he could feel it in his gut. He peered closer at the stranger, a weird sense of familiarity twisting his stomach, but for the life of him, he couldn’t put a name to the man.

  “He’s a spineless sleazeball who was just leaving.” Chance’s hands flexed at his sides.

  “Not until I speak to my son,” the man said, his tone just as assertive.

  “The son whose mother you tried to kill?” Chance asked. “Where are your goons now, you coward?”

  Lucky’s chest tightened. He couldn’t take a breath. He’d heard the story several times, about how his father had sent men with knives to get a point across to his mother that he didn’t want her contacting him again. He wanted nothing to do with the child they had created.

  “I never tried to kill her,” the man said quickly, eyes darting around nervously to see who had heard. “She was going to wreck my marriage. I was just scaring her off so she’d leave me the hell alone before my family got hurt. I had to protect my family.”

  “Oh, that’s rich coming from you,” Chance snarled, seemingly oblivious to the fact everyone in the bar was watching the exchange with open curiosity. “You didn’t give a flying fuck what happened to your son.”

  His father started to speak, but closed his mouth, twisted it a little as he burrowed his hands into his pockets.

  “I wasn’t his family,” Lucky explained for him, a strange hollow feeling engulfing him. “Bastards don’t count.”

  He had enough conscience to redden with shame. “I need to speak with you, Lucky.”

  “Go fuck yourself,” Chance said. “You didn’t have time for my brother when he needed you. He doesn’t have time for you now.”

  “It’s all right, Chance.” Lucky lightly held his brother back with the back of his hand. “I’ll see what the sonofabitch has to say.”

  “What?” Chance gawked at him, eyes wide with incredulity. “He deserted you, and then sent men with knives after our mother. He can’t want anything good now.”

  “I never said I was gonna give him a damn thing,” Lucky said in a low whisper, knowing the tale of his encounter with his father was going to spread through Cook County like wildfire. “But I’ll listen to what he’s gotta say, then he’s going to listen to what I gotta say.”

  Chance’s eyes dawned with understanding, and he nodded. “Say it all, bro. Don’t leave anythi
ng out.”

  “I won’t.”

  Chapter Nine

  “So, what’s your name, Dad?” Lucky leaned back against the hood of his truck and studied the man responsible for bringing him into his shit existence. “Seems like the type of thing a person should know.”

  “No one ever told you?” His sperm-donor looked genuinely surprised by this fact.

  “Your name?” Lucky shook his head. “Why would they? You never claimed me, never gave a dime to help raise me. Hell, you sent thugs after my mother.” He laughed. “Nope, no one ever got around to engraving your name on the father of the year trophy.”

  “Look, Charlene wasn’t exactly an innocent schoolgirl,” the man said, combing a hand through his hair. “She saw me, and she saw money. I was just a target. One of many from what I later found out, only I was the one she got what she wanted from. Well, partly.”

  “Yeah, she got the kid, but not one dime of the money,” Lucky commented. “It’s a shame a kid had to suffer for the mistake the two of you made, but it’s all right. It didn’t fuck my head up too bad.”

  “I had a wife and two kids. I wasn’t about to let one drunken mistake destroy my family. I did whatever it took to protect them.”

  “Do they know your name?” Lucky asked, growing tired.

  “Roy Johnson.” He sighed. “My name is Roy Johnson. I’m not a bad guy, Lucky. Surely you’ve known women who—”

  “Before you finish that statement, keep in mind you’re talking about my recently deceased mother, and I’m already tempted to punch you in your throat just for kicks.”

  Roy shoved his hands into his pockets and had the grace to look apologetic. “I heard she passed away. She was awfully young. My sympathies.”

  “What the hell do you want, Roy?” Lucky crossed his arms, the insincere condolences doing nothing to soften him toward the jerk who’d helped bring him into the world, then took off so fast he’d left skid marks.