by Baxter Black
T.A. put her arm through Lick’s and squeezed it. After the lights came up, they all remained seated for a while to let the crowd disperse. As they walked up the concourse toward the exit, everybody and their dog wanted to visit with Lick.
Representatives of one of the major sponsors invited him into their skybox for a soda. Lick was introduced to a marketing man, who asked about his availability for endorsement of their product. Lick told them he’d quit chewing tobacco. They said it didn’t make any difference. Could he leave them his card?
Lick didn’t have a card. He didn’t have a phone number. Lick didn’t even have an address. “I’ll call you,” he said, not the least bit embarrassed, and they gave him their card.
Cody and the old man had joined the Old Timers and gone with them to Pharaoh’s for a nightcap. The marketing man turned to Lick and T.A. “Can I drop you two somewhere?”
Teddie Arizona knew just the place. After all, this was her town. Soon she and Lick were seated in a luxurious private booth in an alcove at one of Las Vegas’s finest restaurants.
They ordered. Lick ate heartily while T.A. picked at her food. They both were mentally and physically exhausted.
Finally, after T.A.’s third glass of wine and Lick’s second tequila and soda, the time had come. She waited until the waiter had cleared the entrée plates. Then she stared at Lick until he paid attention.
“What,” she asked, when she had his eye, “do I do with you?”
Lick looked at her with a silly grin. Then he set his glass down and leaned back in his chair. “Well, I’ve got some good news for you and some bad news. The good news is . . . I think—no, I know—I love you.”
She looked at him without changing expression. “And the bad news?” she asked.
“And, the bad news is,” he continued, “I love you.”
She had known what he was going to say before he said it. She knew, because females know. But knowing it didn’t lessen her inability to deal with it. She was an emotional wreck. All she wanted was a good night’s sleep, a week at Tenkiller, and a hot fudge sundae from Braum’s.
Lick, on the other hand, had spilled the beans, placed his life in her hands, and confessed his heart’s desire. He wanted to catch a cab, marry her, and get her in bed, not necessarily in that order.
Half an hour later, he was standing at the door of her hotel room, literally smothering her in kisses until they both were breathless.
She could feel the flat of his hand against the naked skin of her back. She could smell his outdoor maleness, a mixture of testosterone and sagebrush, which took her right back to Pandora’s Thumb and the cow camp. His muscles were hard, his hands rough, his fingers gentle. He pressed against her and whispered his request in her ear: “Can I come in?”
Her conscience rose through the steam and said, “Yes. Yes, but I need your help to keep my vow. For the sake of all we’ve been through, and the new person I want to become, I’m not going all the way.”
He kissed her neck and promised he’d try.
Acknowledgments
It is appropriate in books for authors to express appreciation to those who assisted in the creation of their work.
My list will be narrow in scope, omitting without prejudice English teachers, ancestors, old cowboys, ex-girlfriends, mailmen, and Revolutionary War heroes.
First, belatedly, I would like to thank Mary Jack Wald, my agent; Joyce Engleson, who edited my first novel, Hey, Cowboy, Wanna Get Lucky?, © 1994; and Karen Renaldi, editor of Cactus Tracks & Cowboy Philosophy, © 1997.
In a more timely fashion, I would like to praise lavishly Betsy Rapoport, who previously edited Horseshoes, Cowsocks & Duckfeet, © 2002, and this, my second novel, Hey, Cowgirl, Need a Ride?, © 2005.
In conclusion, it gives me great pleasure to recognize the contribution of my neighbor, the comedic comely character consultant, Carolyn Nolting.
Looking back on my writing success with Crown Publishing, it appears I have been lifted above and passed hand to hand over a packed throng of raucous barroom revelers by strong, witty, persuasive, perceptive women. Not only did they carry me along, they told me where I was going.
Also by Baxter Black
Horseshoes, Cowsocks & Duckfeet
Hey, Cowboy, Wanna Get Lucky?
Cactus Tracks & Cowboy Philosophy
The Cowboy and His Dog*
A Rider, a Roper, and a Heck’uva Windmill Man*
On the Edge of Common Sense, the Best So Far
Doc, While Yer Here*
Buckaroo History
Coyote Cowboy Poetry
Croutons on a Cow Pie**
The Buckskin Mare**
Cowboy Standard Time**
Croutons on a Cow Pie, Volume II
Dunny and the Duck+
Cow Attack+
Loose Cow Party+
A Cowful of Cowboy Poetry*
*Included in Coyote Cowboy Poetry
**Included in Croutons on a Cow Pie, Volume II
+Included in A Cowful of Cowboy Poetry
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2005 by Baxter Black
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Three Rivers Press, an imprint of the Crown Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
www.crownpublishing.com
Three Rivers Press and the Tugboat design are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Black, Baxter, 1945–
Hey, cowgirl, need a ride? / Baxter Black.—1st ed.
1. Survival after airplane accidents, shipwrecks, etc.—Fiction.
2. Women environmentalists—Fiction. 3. Endangered species—Fiction.
4. Rodeo performers—Fiction. 5. Marital conflict—Fiction.
6. Ranchers—Fiction. 7. Nevada—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3552.L288H43 2005
813’.54—dc22 2004027690
www.randomhouse.com
eISBN: 978-0-307-42086-2
v3.0
