A Cowboy's Duty

by Marin Thomas

  “We were up in Flagstaff at a rodeo the weekend the news broke,” Johnny said. “There was a moment of silence for Parker.”

  “Nate would have appreciated that.”

  “You should have stuck to soldiering, Tucker.” Willie snickered. “You suck at bareback riding.”

  “Rodeo suits me fine.”

  “I’m sorry about Parker,” Buck chimed in.

  Gavin missed the good old days when he and Nate had traveled the circuit together. As the only child of a single mother, Gavin thought of his army buddy as a brother. “Nate was a damned good soldier. He didn’t deserve to die.” Didn’t deserve to have his body blown into pieces.

  Merle went inside, then returned a minute later with a guitar. He played “Song for the Dead” by Randy Newman—a tribute to a fallen solider. Merle’s baritone voice was easy on the ears and Gavin’s thoughts drifted to the good times he’d shared with his childhood friend. When the song ended, he said, “That was nice. Thanks.”

  Johnny motioned for Gavin to follow him to the cooker. “What’s going on between you and my sister?”

  Gavin suspected the eldest Cash brother believed he’d fathered his sister’s baby. “We’re just...friends.”

  The look in Johnny’s eyes called Gavin a liar. “Where’s your home these days?”

  “Nowhere in particular. I’m not itching to put down roots.”

  “We all—” Johnny nodded to his brothers on the porch “—grew up hearing people call our mother a tramp, a slut and a gold digger.”

  Gavin knew where Johnny was heading with this speech.

  “Dixie’s not like our mother. She doesn’t deserve being called names.”

  “I’ve never believed Dixie was anything but a nice girl.”

  “Good. ’Cause I better not hear one bad word about her on the circuit.”

  “Mind if I ask you a question?” Johnny had piqued Gavin’s interest about the Cash family.

  “Fire away.”

  “Is it true you and your siblings all have different fathers?”

  “Only Dixie and I share the same father.”

  “Do your brothers keep in touch with their fathers?”

  “Nope. What about your family?”

  “I’m an only child. My mother lives in Phoenix and works for the parks and recreation department.”

  “I can’t imagine growing up an only child.”

  “No fights for the bathroom.”

  The joke fell flat. Shoot, the soldiers in Gavin’s army unit had thought he was a funny guy.

  “You plan to make rodeo a career?” Johnny asked.

  “For the time being.”

  “Willie’s right—you stink at rodeo.”

  “You’re not so great, either.” Gavin changed the subject. “How long has Dixie been making homemade soap?”

  “Since she was ten or eleven. Dixie sells the bars in tourist shops in Yuma.” Johnny lowered his voice. “Between you and me...she’s got this harebrained idea she can sell our grandmother’s soap online.”

  Gavin was impressed with Dixie’s ingenuity but worried with the baby coming that now wasn’t the best time to start up a new business.

  A movement near the porch caught Gavin’s attention. Dixie spread a plastic cloth over a picnic table in the yard. She made several trips in and out of the house for plates, glasses, condiments, buns and pitchers of lemonade and iced tea. Gavin was astonished that none of her brothers offered to help. Instead, the men sat on their backsides, jawing. A newborn would bring added stress to Dixie’s life—a life already busy with soap-making, starting a new business and catering to six grown men.

  You’re no better than the Cash brothers—you’re walking away from Dixie.

  “Burgers are done!” Johnny shouted.

  The brothers raced to the picnic table and Dixie motioned for Gavin to sit at the opposite end from her. He pulled out his chair and there resting on the seat was the cash he’d left Dixie in the barn. He glanced down the table and her steely-eyed glare told him exactly what he could do with his money.

  Shove it up his you-know-what.

  Chapter Four

  Not again.

  Gavin halted in his tracks when he caught sight of Conway and Willie Cash jawing with the cowboys near the bull chutes. The San Carlos Roundup Rodeo took place the first weekend in September—two weeks after he’d learned about Dixie’s pregnancy—and darned if he hadn’t run into one or more Cash brothers at the events he’d competed in. He presumed the men concluded that he’d knocked up their baby sister and weren’t letting him out of their sight.

  Too bad Gavin couldn’t blame his dismal performances on the constant scrutiny. Instead, impending fatherhood disrupted his focus. Dixie was close to eight weeks pregnant and thoughts of her and the baby wandered through his mind 24/7. How was Dixie feeling—did she have any food cravings? Had she gained weight? What about morning sickness—did she suffer from that? The questions hammered his brain nonstop making him irritable and edgy.

  Ignoring Dixie’s siblings, Gavin focused on the bronc he’d drawn for today’s competition. Jigsaw had a proven track record of bucking off experienced riders. The rodeo announcer introduced the cowboys competing in the bareback event, offering stats on the better athletes. Gavin was described as the former soldier turned cowboy, which drew the loudest applause. He was humbled by the fans’ heartfelt appreciation for his service to their country. Once each weekend he felt like a hero even though he was the furthest thing from a Caped Crusader.

  “Let’s see if Tucker can end his losing streak,” the announcer said.

  Gavin climbed the chute rails and eased onto Jigsaw’s back. Keep your balance. An image of Dixie collecting ash from the potbelly stove in the barn flashed before his eyes.

  Stay focused.

  Fearing Dixie would disrupt his thoughts again, Gavin ignored his chute routine and nodded to the gate man. The door swung open, and Jigsaw demonstrated his superiority in the sport. The bronc’s rump twisted in the middle of a buck. Gavin lost his rhythm and his spurring became choppy. Then Jigsaw spun in a tight circle and Gavin was history. He sailed through the air and landed on his belly, the hard ground knocking the wind from him. The pickup men attempted to corner the bucking horse, but Jigsaw evaded capture.

  The earth beneath Gavin shook and instinctively he rolled left. Too late—Jigsaw’s hoof grazed his shoulder and a searing pain shot through the muscle. As if he’d made his point, the bronc trotted from the arena without an escort. Gavin struggled to his feet, his fingers tingling as numbness spread through his arm.

  “Close call.” Willie Cash met Gavin when he returned to the cowboy ready area.

  Arm hurting like hell, Gavin wasn’t in the mood to spar with the Cash brothers.

  “Where’s your next rodeo?” Conway asked.

  “Check with your spies...they’ll know where I’m riding.”

  The brothers spoke in unison. “What spies?”

  “Your brothers. One of you always turns up wherever I ride.”

  Conway grinned. “Johnny said we’re not to let you out of our sight.”

  Gavin wouldn’t have a moment’s peace until he did right by Dixie. He grabbed his gear, wincing at the throb in his shoulder. “See you at the next go-round.” He stopped short of leaving the chute area when he heard Shannon Douglas’s name over the loudspeakers.

  “Folks, we got a special treat tonight before we kick off the men’s bull riding competition. For those of you who haven’t heard, Shannon Douglas from Stagecoach, Arizona, has been riding bulls since high school. She competed in three Five Star Rodeo events this past summer and earned a sponsorship from Wrangler.”

  The JumboTron flashed images of Shannon at the rodeos in Canyon City, Boot Hill and Piney Gorge. Gavin moved
closer to the cowgirl’s chute and watched her wrap the bull rope around her hand.

  “Shannon’s about to tangle with Persnickety, a bull from the famed Red River Ranch in Oklahoma.”

  The chute door opened and Persnickety launched himself into the arena. Shannon’s compact body undulated with the bull’s explosive bucks and sharp spins. Gavin glanced at the JumboTron...5...4...3...

  Persnickety reared and Shannon lost her seat, sliding off the back of the bull. As soon as she landed on the ground she scrambled to her feet and ran for the rails.

  “Too bad, folks. I thought Shannon might best Persnickety but not today!”

  Gavin turned to leave when he heard his name called. Shannon jogged toward him.

  “You almost had that bull,” Gavin said.

  “I’ll get him next time.” She sucked in a deep breath. “I haven’t been back to Stagecoach in over a month. How’s Dixie feeling?”

  Gavin supposed Dixie had told Shannon about her pregnancy when she’d scratched at the Piney Gorge Rodeo. “Fine, I guess.”

  “You guess? Aren’t you keeping in touch with her?”

  Gavin didn’t care to go into detail about his and Dixie’s relationship—whatever it was. You’re about to have a baby together and you can’t define your relationship? “I saw Dixie a couple of weeks ago and she looked good.” More than good.

  Shannon lowered her voice. “She’s going to have the baby, right? Or did she...?”

  Stunned, Gavin couldn’t respond. Dixie having an abortion had never crossed his mind, but that didn’t mean it hadn’t crossed Dixie’s.

  “Gavin?”

  “I gotta go.” He left the arena and cut across the parking lot to his truck. He stowed his gear in the backseat, then started the engine and cranked the air-conditioning. While the cab cooled, he grabbed his cell phone from the glove compartment and checked messages. Nothing.

  Call her.

  When Dixie had returned his money, the message had been loud and clear—don’t interfere.

  At first Gavin had been relieved Dixie had expected nothing from him, but the long hours of driving between rodeos had left him with too much time to think. He’d reflected on his father—a deadbeat dad who’d never been there for his son. Once Gavin had joined the military he’d lost all contact with his father and to this day didn’t know his whereabouts.

  Dixie had grown up without a father, too. Gavin had the power to make sure their child had a father—that is if Dixie hadn’t taken matters into her own hands.

  Gavin hit three on his speed dial. “Hey, Mom. Gotta minute?”

  “What’s wrong, honey? You never call on Saturday nights.”

  “I need some advice.”

  “Sure.” She laughed. “I love telling you what to do.”

  There was no easy way to say it. “I got a girl pregnant.”

  A sigh filled his ear. “How old is she?”

  “Twenty-three.”

  “Poor girl.”

  Poor girl? Dixie, the bull rider turned soap maker was not a poor girl.

  “What are you going to do?” his mother asked.

  Gavin wasn’t marriage material, but how could he walk away from Dixie when he’d seen firsthand how tough it had been for his mother to raise a child on her own.

  Dixie isn’t alone. She has six brothers.

  Admittedly his career in the military had left Gavin with rough edges, but he wasn’t so sure the Cash brothers would be better role models for his son or daughter. The uncles would turn the kid into a hooligan.

  “I offered money to buy things for the baby but she threw the cash back in my face.”

  “You’re not marrying this girl?”

  “She isn’t interested in marriage.”

  “You mean you proposed and she said no?” When he didn’t answer his mother asked, “What’s scaring you, honey?”

  “I’m not ready to settle down.” Gavin was an emotional and mental mess. He was in no shape to be in a committed relationship. In order to function normally when he’d returned from Afghanistan he’d made sure to keep emotionally distant from the world around him. He doubted Dixie wanted to marry a man who acted as though he didn’t care about anything.

  After leaving the military, Gavin had promised himself no long-term commitments and raising a child was sure in heck a lasting stint. Dixie was stubborn, bossy and independent. He worried that a marriage between them would be doomed to fail.

  “What’s this girl’s name?” Gavin’s mother asked.

  “Dixie.”

  “That’s cute. Where does she live?”

  “Stagecoach.”

  “Never heard of the place.”

  “It’s a small town outside of Yuma. Her mother’s dead and her father’s out of the picture but she has six brothers.”

  “What do her brothers say about the situation?”

  “The eldest expects me to marry Dixie and the rest have me trained in their crosshairs.”

  “The more I learn about Dixie and her family the more I like.”

  “Then you’ll appreciate hearing that she rode bulls in a couple of rodeos this past summer and she makes homemade organic soap.”

  “Intriguing. Is she pretty?”

  “Sure.”

  “She must be nice if you’ve spent time with her.”

  Dixie was nice. She was kind and compassionate and had been willing to help him out of a tight spot when Veronica Patriot had put a bull’s-eye on his chest.

  “No one can force you to marry, but whatever you decide I’m here if you need to talk.”

  “Thanks, Mom. Everything okay on your end?”

  “Barney and I have a new neighbor.”

  Barney was the five-year-old bulldog Gavin had given to his mother the Christmas before he’d shipped out on his first military assignment.

  “Ricardo owns a Chihuahua named Chica and we’ve been taking the dogs on walks together.”

  “Does Ricardo know your son is a former army soldier?” Sylvia Tucker was forty-four years old and very pretty, which made Gavin all the more protective of her.

  “Don’t go all military on me, young man. Ricardo is a gentleman and we’re just friends.”

  Gavin heard the doorbell chime in the background.

  “Keep me posted on what you and Dixie decide to do.”

  “Mom?”

  “What?”

  “I don’t want to disappoint you.”

  “You’re a good man, honey. You’ll figure out what’s best for everyone.”

  Gavin tossed the phone onto the seat. Was marriage the answer for him and Dixie? The old-fashioned way to deal with an unplanned pregnancy was a hasty wedding, but a legal document wasn’t necessary for Gavin’s child to use his last name or for Gavin to be involved in his or her life.

  Think, man. Think.

  Gavin had survived his tour in Afghanistan. Figuring his way out of this mess with Dixie should be a piece of cake.

  Or not.

  * * *

  “HEY, DIXIE, IT’S SUSIE. Could you drop off more of your soaps?”

  “You sold out my supply?” Dixie set aside the utensils she’d been cleaning in the barn.

  “A guy came in today and purchased every last one. Said he was putting them in goody bags for a corporate shindig.”

  Dixie grabbed a marker and wrote corporate goody bags next to Gavin’s cell number. What a great promotional idea for her online business. “Did the man say where he was from?”

  “Nope.” Susie laughed. “I thought he was pulling my leg.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “He was dressed like a cowboy.”

  Cowboy? Dixie’s excitement fizzled. “What did he look like?”

&nbs
p; “Like all the others—Stetson, Wranglers, boots. He smelled nice. Hmm...maybe he wasn’t a real cowboy.”

  “Describe his hair.” Dixie’s brothers wore their hair on the long side because they preferred spending money on rodeo entry fees rather than barber visits.

  “Short and he was clean-shaven. He had nice teeth, too.”

  Gavin.

  He hadn’t phoned her—not that she expected him to, although part of her had hoped he’d check in with her. After her first doctor’s appointment a week ago she’d considered informing him that the baby was fine, but she’d chickened out.

  What did Gavin intend to prove by buying her soap inventory?

  You threw his money back in his face.

  “There’ll be lots of tourists in town for the start of the Scarecrow Festival tomorrow,” Susie said.

  “I’ll pack up a basket of soaps right now. See you soon.” Dixie ended the call and went into the storage room at the rear of the barn. She opened a door in the floor then flipped on the light switch and descended the stairs. Instead of dank, damp earth the cellar smelled like utopia—a mixture of nature’s best scents.

  She remembered the adoring expression on her grandmother’s face when Grandpa Ely had installed electricity in the barn. No longer had her grandmother been forced to use kerosene lamps when she’d worked late at night.

  Dixie gathered the remaining twenty-seven bars and left the cellar. She didn’t care for the way Gavin had wanted to make his point—that he intended to support the baby whether she wanted his help or not.

  Maybe she’d acted childishly when she’d returned the cash he’d left in the barn, but he’d bruised her pride when he’d insisted he wasn’t ready to marry. Next time take his money and save yourself the aggravation.

  Dixie didn’t leave a note before she drove to Yuma—all six of her brothers had left before sunup for who-knew-where and who-knew-how-long. As she drove down the dirt road, she contemplated being a single mom. Not only would she face financial struggles raising her baby but becoming pregnant had taken away her childhood dream of marrying. Eligible men did not chase after hardworking single moms, and in no way was Dixie taking a page from her mother’s book—how to land a man and lose him in less than nine months.