Once a Cowboy

by Linda Warren

  Mike wanted to let her know that Ray Sims had leaked Brodie’s story to the press for a price. Damn. She would need more than Tylenol to get through this day. She immediately called Brodie, then the Braxtons.

  When the story broke, the news spread rapidly. Alex saw that it shook Brodie. He became quiet, almost distant, and for the first time she couldn’t reach him. That scared her.

  B Y THE END OF THE WEEK Brodie knew he had to get away from all the rumors and gossip. He’d never thought so many people could be interested in his life. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t seek comfort or lean on Alex anymore.

  It was time to get his life straight and to sort through everything he was feeling, especially about Alex. Going on like he was wasn’t an option anymore. He had to find out who he really was. Until he figured that out he and Alex didn’t have anything more than a sexual relationship.

  For the first time in his life, he wanted more than that from a woman.

  He told George and Helen because he felt they had a right to know. Disappearing out of their lives without a word would only hurt them and he couldn’t do that. They deserved his respect.

  He was surprised by their reaction. They understood and asked that he call every now and then to let them know he was okay. He hugged them before he left and he didn’t feel like he was coming apart at the seams. That was progress, but it didn’t clear his head of all the confusion and the doubts.

  Driving away, there was one thought on his mind. Now he had to tell Alex.

  H ER J EEP WAS AT the office so he knew she was at work. The apartment was too personal, too comfortable, and he’d rather talk to her here.

  He opened the door to loud voices. A stout man with a crew cut came out of Alex’s office. He looked mad enough to eat rusty nails.

  “You’re not buying it. That’s all I have to say,” he shouted over his shoulder.

  The man stopped and glared at him. “What do you want?”

  This man is as mean as some of the bulls I’ve ridden. This could only be Buck Donovan.

  “I’m here to see Alex.”

  “Well, she’s busy, so do whatever the hell you want.” Saying that, he slammed shut his office door.

  “Nice meeting you,” he murmured, removing his hat and walking toward Alex’s office. He could hear her voice clearly—that patient, tolerant voice he knew well.

  “This is it, Naddy, and we’re not arguing about it anymore. No Cadillac. You can’t afford it. Buck has agreed to let you have the hot tub.”

  “Hot damn. That’s what I wanted all along. Who needs a big old Cadillac? My Buick drives just fine.”

  “Good, then…” Alex glanced up and saw him. “Brodie, come in.”

  “I can come back later.”

  “No need. This is my grandmother, Naddy. And Naddy, this is Brodie Hayes.”

  Naddy turned to him. “How do you do, handsome?”

  “I do just fine, ma’am.”

  “Uh-huh.” She eyed him up and down. “I bet you do.”

  Brodie saw where Alex got her sense of humor. This lady was like a lit firecracker. He had a feeling she went off regularly.

  “Naddy, don’t you have a hot tub dealer to see?”

  “Oh…yeah. I do.” She picked up a large bag from Alex’s desk. “Tell you what, handsome. You can join Ethel and me in the hot tub anytime.”

  “Ah…” He was at a loss for words.

  “Don’t mind her,” Alex said. “Her elevator doesn’t go quite to the top some days.”

  “Uh-oh. I see now. My granddaughter has you staked out already.” Naddy winked at him. “She has good taste. Got that from me, yes, she did.”

  “Naddy. Hot tub.”

  “I’m gone, honeychild.”

  Alex came around the desk and Brodie took a step backward. “Don’t come any closer.”

  “Why? Are you contagious?”

  “I can’t say what I have to if you’re within a foot of me.”

  Alex’s stomach sank. “What is it?”

  “I’m leaving for a while.”

  She licked her lips. “Leaving?”

  “Yes. I need to get away to figure out who I am.”

  “Brodie, I’m sorry about the newspaper article.”

  “The article is only part of this whole mess.”

  “Brodie…”

  He held up a hand. “Let me finish. I’ll try to explain how I feel.” He drew a deep breath. “It’s as if I’m in the dark, balancing on a tight rope. I can either make it to the other side and daylight, or tumble into a never-ending darkness.” He paused. “You’ve been my comfort blanket, there to help me through it all and holding you I can glimpse a sliver of light. But I’m still balancing precariously between Brodie Hayes and Travis Braxton. For my own peace of mind I can’t keep using you to get through another day. You deserve better than that. I have to find out if I’m Brodie or Travis.”

  She told herself to be strong—to let him go without regrets. With dignity. But this would be the hardest thing she ever had to do. She swallowed the lump that formed in her throat. “How long will you be gone?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “What about your ranch?”

  “Joey and his dad will look after it. Colter will check on them from time to time.”

  “Sounds as if you’re not planning on coming back.”

  “I have a lot of thinking to do.”

  “Have you told the Braxtons?”

  “Yes, and they were very supportive and understanding. The way parents are supposed to be, I guess.”

  “Then this is goodbye.” Tears stung the back of her eyes but she stoically refused to cry. She wouldn’t do that to him.

  He looked into her eyes. “It isn’t just a sexual thing between us. I’ve felt more for you than any woman I’ve ever known. Without you, I wouldn’t have made it through the past three months. But somehow all those feelings are jumbled up with the pain and the heartache. I don’t know what’s real anymore. I have to go to get my head straight. Please understand that.”

  “I’m trying to.”

  “Take care of yourself.”

  She nodded, unable to speak.

  He turned and walked out. Just like that her world came tumbling down around her, leaving her scarred and empty. She gulped in air so she could breathe, but the pain was still there. And probably always would be.

  She took a chance and gave her heart to the cowboy. And the cowboy wasn’t sure what he wanted. But she was. She’d wait forever if she had to because she knew exactly who he was.

  The man she loved.

  B RODIE JUST STARTED DRIVING , trying not to see that hurt look in Alex’s eyes. He called Tripp to let him know he wouldn’t be around for a while. Colter already knew. Both of them tried to talk him out of going, but he didn’t change his mind.

  He took Interstate 35 into Waco, then U.S. Highway 190 into Killeen, Texas, and on to the Fort Hood army base. There were many restricted areas so he parked his truck a safe distance away from the main gate and took in the scene. Men in uniform were everywhere; barracks, hangars, airfields and numerous buildings were in the distance. The real Brodie Hayes would have lived in a place like this, following in his father’s footsteps.

  But that wasn’t him—the person Brodie was inside. He’d known that from an early age.

  He drove on to Austin, then San Antonio. From there he took Interstate 10 into Houston. The heavy traffic made him wish he’d taken another route, but he didn’t know where he was going. Anywhere was his destination. As he inched his way across Houston, he
definitely knew this busy, hectic lifestyle wasn’t for him, either.

  It was dark when he stopped in Galveston so he checked into a motel. He was dead tired. He didn’t even care about eating. The next morning he walked along the beach for hours, then sat in the sand staring out at the never-ending water. Inside he was balancing on the tightrope with all the strength he had.

  He wasn’t sure how long he stayed in Galveston. He found a measure of peace just watching the water. One day as he strolled along, he looked down to see his boots covered in sand. White gritty sand eating into the leather.

  He was wearing his boots on the beach.

  That spoke volumes to him. Who would wear boots on a beach? A cowboy. He was a cowboy. He already knew that, but it was suddenly clearer than ever. Mesmerized by the sand, he asked himself the same question he’d asked Colter and Tripp—how do you put a broken cowboy back together? They didn’t have an answer and neither did he. Once he figured that out maybe everything would fall into place. Maybe he’d have a name for the cowboy.

  He removed his hat and threw it into the air. It landed next to a couple of girls sunbathing. A blonde in a bikini picked it up and glanced toward him. She rose to her feet, all curvy and feminine. He had no reaction at all, other than to notice that she was beautiful.

  “Hey there, cowboy.” She smiled as she approached him. “Are you lost?” She handed him his hat.

  He took it. “Yes, ma’am. I’m lost. Thanks.” Setting his hat on his head, he strolled away. He was lost but he was finally finding his way back.

  “Hey. Don’t run off. I’ll help you,” the blonde called after him.

  “No, thanks. I know where I’m going now.”

  In his room, he called the Braxtons. When Helen answered, he wasn’t sure what to say so he said what was in his heart. “I just wanted to let you know that I’m okay.”

  “Oh, Brodie, thank you for calling. It helps to hear your voice.”

  Brodie swallowed. “Is George there?”

  “He’s out mowing grass and repairing fences. He wants the place to look nice for when you visit.”

  “Tell him I said hi.”

  “I will. He’ll be sorry he missed you. Take care of yourself and call when you can.”

  Helen didn’t ask when he was coming home or pressure him. He was grateful for that. He hung up and wanted to call Alex, just to hear her voice. No one called him cowboy like she did. The pretty blonde on the beach couldn’t hold a candle to Alex and the way she made him feel. He was beginning to think that what he felt for Alex was as real as it could get.

  In the next hour, he was on the road, still searching for that elusive answer. Was he Brodie or Travis?

  He headed back to Houston, then took U.S. 290 to Brenham and Texas Highway 36 through Caldwell. His destination was very clear—Bramble, Texas. He wanted to see Tripp and talk to his friend.

  Tripp and his family lived on the Lady Luck Ranch and Brodie drove there via a shortcut on the country back roads. He stopped as he saw a truck and trailer half parked in the road—the trailer was backed into a loading chute. Two riders, a man and a young boy, were trying to pen a bull.

  He got out and watched as the man swung a rope over his head, trying to rope the bull. Every time the rope fell short of the bull’s sawed-off horns, the bull, worked up and angry, would charge the horses.

  “Do you need some help?” Brodie called.

  The man and boy rode over. “We’ve been trying to load this bull for over an hour, but he’s one mean sonofagun.”

  “Why are you penning him by himself? He’d be much calmer with cattle.”

  “Because he broke through my fence into Mr. Shafer’s pasture. Now Mr. Shafer, he ain’t too friendly or neighborly. He said if I didn’t get my bull off his property today, he’s going to shoot him. We tried herding him toward my ranch, but all he wants to do is fight. Mr. Shafer let us use this fenced-off pen and corral, but that’s not working, either.”

  “Maybe I can help.”

  “Can you ride?” the man asked, spitting chewing tobacco onto the ground.

  “A little.”

  “This is my grandson, Nathan. He’s trying to help, but that bull is a whole lot of mean.”

  The boy looked to be about twelve—no match for the bull.

  “Can I borrow your horse, Nathan?”

  “Yes, sir.” Nathan quickly slid from the saddle.

  Brodie jumped over the barbed-wire fence and grabbed the reins. He adjusted the stirrups and swung into the saddle.

  “I’m Nate Johnson,” the man introduced himself.

  “Nice to meet you, Mr. Johnson.” He rode closer. “May I have your rope?”

  “Sure. I’m guessing you can rope.” Nate unlooped the rope from the saddle horn and handed it to him.

  “A little.” He adjusted the rope into a big loop, getting a feel of it and the horse beneath him. The brown mare responded well to his signals.

  Sitting back in the saddle, he thought about a plan—the best way to pen the bull. He, Colter and Tripp had done this many times. But the three of them together knew exactly what to do and when. Brodie wasn’t sure Mr. Johnson was going to be much help.

  As he looked at the wood structure of the corral, he saw that it had two gates—one on each side. One gate was opened.

  “Nathan,” he said. “Open the other gate.”

  “But the bull will just run through it.” Mr. Johnson made his opinion known.

  “Trust me.”

  “Sure,” Nate replied. “Nothin’ I’ve tried has worked.”

  Nathan hurried to open the other gate.

  “Nathan,” Brodie called. “When I shout to close it, I want you to close it as fast as you can and get out of the way.”

  “Yes, sir. Wow! This is going to be like a rodeo.”

  Brodie smiled inwardly. He hoped everything went like he had it planned in his head, although usually a bull had a way of changing plans.

  The bull was a Brahma mix, which wasn’t good. They were known for their fiery temperament. In a corner of the pen, the bull pawed at the ground, snot running out of his nose, his eyes on the riders as if he was daring them to come after him.

  “Okay, Mr. Johnson. See if you can get him out of that corner, so I can get the rope over his head.”

  “You’re pretty sure you can rope him.”

  “I’ll give it my best.”

  “Uh-huh.” Nate rode toward the bull and Brodie stood in the stirrups, ready to throw the rope.

  When the bull charged Nate, he spun his horse toward the middle of the pen and the bull followed. With one quick movement, Brodie swung the rope above his head and sailed it toward the bull. It fell in a circle over the bull’s horns. He jerked the rope tight and looped the end over the saddle horn, backing up the horse to further tighten the rope.

  Not liking the rope, the bull threw up his head and jerked from side to side, trying to dislodge it. Brodie turned his horse and yanked on the rope. The animal charged the horse and Brodie. He kneed the horse and they galloped at a run for the corral with the bull behind them.

  Brodie flew through one gate, then the next. “Shut the gate,” he shouted, and jumped from the horse, helping Nathan with the gate. The bull rammed into it and the boards weakened from the contact. Brodie quickly wrapped the rope around a large center post. The bull bashed it repeatedly with his head and Brodie tightened the rope. After butting it a few times, the animal settled down.

  “Wow,” Nathan said. “I’ve never seen anything like that.”

  Nate closed the other gate. “Mighty fine work.”

  Brodie crawled onto the fence. “I’d let him
settle down a little bit before you load him.”

  “Oh, I’m not loadin’ him.” Mr. Johnson dismounted. “You roped him, you get to do the job.”

  Brodie tipped back his hat and smiled. The cowboy way—that’s how Nate did things. And Brodie knew the rules well—once you start something, you finish it.

  “You got it.”

  He loosened the rope enough to slip it off the horns. The bull threw up his head and began to run around the corral, looking for an escape. He charged into one corner, then another before he ran into the open chute. Brodie slammed the gate shut before the big animal realized he was in a trap.

  Crawling atop the chute, he shouted and shouted until the bull loped into the trailer. Brodie was right behind him, locking the gate of the trailer. There was no more escape. The bull was ready to haul.

  Brodie leaped to the ground. Nate stood waiting for him.

  “I think you’ve done this a time or two before,” Nate said, squinting at him. “Don’t believe I caught your name.”

  He held out his hand. “Brodie Hayes,” he replied without even thinking about it.

  Nate pumped his hand vigorously. “Well, I’ll be a sonofagun. I knew you weren’t no ordinary cowboy. You’re a three-time world champion. You could’ve of just ridden that bull into the pen.”

  “Oh, boy. Wow!” Nathan crawled between the barbed wires. “Wait a minute.” He ran to the truck and came back with a magic marker. “Sign my T-shirt, please.” He turned his back to Brodie.

  He scribbled Brodie Hayes in bold letters across Nathan’s back. It all fell into place at that moment. That’s who he was, a cowboy and a bull rider. He’d spent years learning the skill and his name mattered because it identified who he was and labeled all the hard work and sacrifice. And it labeled him. That’s what had been so difficult, trying to let go of the man he was inside.

  Now he knew he didn’t have to do that. Whether he was Brodie Hayes or Travis Braxton he was still a cowboy, a bull rider. Once a cowboy, always a cowboy. He felt comfortable in Brodie Hayes’s skin and he wasn’t going to change that. Nothing could.