by Stephy Smith
Shawnee’s Creek
by Stephy Smith
Published by Astraea Press
www.astraeapress.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.
SHAWNEE’S CREEK
Copyright © 2011 STEPHY SMITH
ISBN 978-1-936852-47-5
Cover Art Designed By Elaina Lee
Edited By Stephanie Taylor
Kathy Williams, without your support and encouragement, I would not be a published author today. Thank you.
Chapter One
Pool balls clanked together, Alan Jackson bellowed to be propped against the jukebox, while whoops and hollers filtered through the wooden door.
Shawnee and Cheyenne entered the dimness of the Lonely Steer Bar and Grill. They stepped to one side of the door and let their eyes adjust to the darkness then zigzagged through the crowded room to the bar.
“Two colas, hot wings, and an order of fries, if you got ‘em,” Shawnee called to the bartender. Shawnee slid a cola in front of Cheyenne.
Food in hand, they wove their way past pool tables, pinball games, and a dartboard to an empty table near the dance floor. A woman escorted her man in their direction, leaning one way and then the other toward them.
“Pick up,” Shawnee reached for her drink and food. Cheyenne followed suit until the intoxicated couple slithered past.
Cheyenne swiveled the straw in the glass. “I’m getting butterflies about tomorrow, Shaw.”
“If it makes things any better, I’m kinda nervous, too. At least we’ll be working together. It’s not like we haven’t been to a sale barn before,” Shawnee tilted her head to the couple shuffling their way to the dance floor.
“I know, just the thought of strange people, good-looking cowboys; you know I’m not comfortable around them anymore.” Cheyenne’s eyes scanned the room. Her last job consisted of working as an unsupervised vet tech.
Shawnee followed her gaze. “You know, most of these guys are wanna-be cowboys and not real ones. They’re gonna be different than the ones you’ll work around.”
“They’re still men. I haven’t been around men in so long they just make me a little jumpy.” Cheyenne glanced as the dance floor filled with couples.
Shawnee twisted to face the bar. A tall, dark-haired man headed in their direction. His slow, easy saunter and broad, muscled chest sent a strange quiver down her spine.
“Yeah, all these guys in here just want to rub belt buckles and have a good time.” She stared as the man’s back pockets tightened across his hips until he took a seat. Leaning across the table, she lowered her voice, “I wouldn’t mind unpacking his saddlebags.”
Cheyenne’s nervous giggles drew Shawnee out of her fantasy world with the cowboy. “We better go, Shaw, before you jump the innocent guy. We have a busy day ahead of us.”
The twins finished their meals and weaved their way to the door. Perfume, sweat, animal manure, and alcohol faded as the cool, refreshing breeze escorted them to Shawnee’s pickup.
“And now for you old timers, I’m going to play an oldie but goodie,” the announcer on the radio said. Your Cheatin’ Heart echoed in the car as Shawnee and Cheyenne sang their version of the tune along with Hank Williams.
When they pulled into the drive, they continued to bawl out ‘will tell on you’ until they walked through the door. After a laugh over their non-prosperous singing careers, they went to separate rooms.
“What have we done, Cheyenne?” Shawnee whispered in the dark. It was hours later before sleep took over. She tried to hide her insecurities the best she could.
These jobs were excellent opportunities for them, and Shawnee didn’t want to discourage Cheyenne one bit. The fiery depths of Cheyenne’s insecurities since the accident taunted Shawnee to quit her job as an accountant and seek a position with her sister.
Cheyenne had taken on the world and let it trample her soft heart into mush. Shawnee couldn’t, and wouldn’t, let Cheyenne know she was just as skeptical about starting the new job. In the wee hours of the morning, Shawnee closed her eyes.
“Lord, Mom, Dad, please watch over Cheyenne.” Their images flashed in her mind as the small prayer escaped from her lips.
She slept through the alarm blaring. The familiar creak of the door brought her awake. “Get up, Shawnee. You’re not gonna cause me to be late for the first day on the job.”
Moonbeams danced across the wall enhanced by the tiny branches blowing in the breeze outside the window.
“It’s still dark, Cheyenne. I just got to sleep.” She pulled the covers around her neck.
“You gotta hurry. It’s five and we have to be there at six. Get a move on, Shaw.”
Cheyenne’s footsteps stomped up and down the hallway. Shawnee knew she better hurry and dress before Cheyenne changed her mind.
The smell of coffee greeted them in the kitchen. Cheyenne poured two travel cups full and handed one to Shawnee.
Cheyenne pushed the garage door opener and scurried to the passenger side of the pickup. Shawnee rubbed the goose bumps on her arms as the cool early morning air rushed under the door opening. She slid behind the wheel and started the engine.
The lights of the truck glowed down the highway to the Lost Boys Livestock Auction. Shawnee sipped her coffee until they entered the parking lot of the yellow brick building. They sat in the vehicle for a few moments. Jitters crept down her spine.
“Well, let’s get this over with.” Cheyenne glanced over to Shawnee and pulled in a deep breath.
****
Emory Creek sat under the cover of darkness. His pickup was the only vehicle in the gravel lot. A dark green truck pulled in and he gazed at the occupants. The wheat hay straw he was chewing on stilled in his jaw.
He sipped coffee from a travel mug and squinted through the early morning dimness at the two women who exited the other vehicle. His heart jumped at the recognition of the woman who’d rattled him with her eyes at the bar. “Well fry up the chicken and pass the gravy,” he whispered as the woman passed in front of his pickup. His mind was still a little fuzzy from a restless sleep.
As he’d walked by their table the night before, her outward stare made him uncomfortable. He’d strained his ears to listen to the conversation the twins were having. Despite the discomfort, he had been thoroughly intrigued with the beauty. What kind of coincidence could it be since Carla was the one who hired the twins? Here they were in his parking lot, walking to the door; and then the hesitation before reaching for the handle.
“Go on in, go on in.” He crossed his fingers until the two disappeared behind the closing door. He let out his breath. A few sips of coffee blended with the faint taste of the wheat; he opened the pickup door and flicked the chewed straw to the ground.
There wasn’t much difference in the twins. He couldn’t help but notice how the smaller one held herself with more confidence than the larger one. Her hair was a tad darker and her-self assuring attitude was one to expect from a larger city and not a rinky-dink town like Twist and Turn, Texas. He glanced at her resume with renewed confidence in his sister for hiring the girls.
Rumors spread around how she and her sister came home from college and had been riding in the car with their parents when an intoxicated man hit the vehicle head on, killing the parents and a brother. The twins had m
oved into the house after their graduation and hadn’t made known any attempt or desire to leave. The one called Shawnee had been a straight A student in college with a degree in accounting, and the other had an A minus in animal husbandry. Both women would be a definite asset to his company.
The one thing he hadn’t counted on was the mind-tingling wish to meet the woman in accounting, not only for her number skills but to satisfy the urge to get to know her better. If she’s as attractive on the inside as the outside she would get along with the rest of his crew just fine.
The other one, Cheyenne would be snatched up as soon as Mason laid eyes on her. She seemed to him more laid back and shy. Just Mason’s type of woman, he mused.
He entered the building from the side door and lurked in the darkness. He wasn’t accustomed to eavesdropping on conversations, but he needed to know how easily roused the women could become once the men got hold of them with their complaints.
A scuttle of boots slammed against the polished floor. He could tell Mason’s walk anywhere. Mason had worked for him since he bought the place. There was never a better cowhand as far as Emory was concerned.
The one thing he was concerned about was the new girl under Mason’s care. He knew Mason wouldn’t cut her any slack; he just didn’t want Mason to make her cry and storm from the place. Mason was hard-core when it came to working the pens, but he would treat the woman the same as he would any man, for her safety.
Working the pens proved dangerous and unyielding at times. If someone didn’t pay attention, the prevention of getting hurt or causing serious bodily harm to someone else became a priority.
At any rate, Mason’s job was to get both of the women settled in their jobs. This would be the test of all time. Never had a woman applied for a job in the back with Cheyenne’s experience. Emory stood in the dark hall listening to Mason and Cheyenne’s giggling. He rolled his eyes and prayed Mason wouldn’t let him down.
Shawnee made her way across the hall to the office. Her professional demeanor impressed him. His mind tried to fit the pieces of the wild woman staring at him openly to the mild mannered professional in the office. Although he was no saint, he sure wasn’t in need of a trouble-making woman behind a desk to upset the men out back. They had wives and most had problems with women they chose to live the happily-ever-after with.
Chapter Two
Mason couldn’t take his eyes off the longhaired blonde beauty. She was only a tad bigger than her sister, but she’d work riding pens and sorting cattle. He hoped she had the strength to do the job and wit to put up with the cowboys. Women had worked riding pens at the sale barn before, but none quite as lovely as this little filly. She stood by the door of the office talking to Carla when he walked up.
Her smile lit up the darkened hallway. Her voice soothed the stillness of the air. He flipped on the light switch and all heads turned to him.
“There he is, Mr. Rise and Shine Mason. From the look on his face he’s already had his two cups of coffee.” Carla leaned into Cheyenne as he neared. She smiled even brighter than the stars in the sky. It took him a few moments to regain his composure and swipe his sweaty palm on his pants leg before extending it to the new woman.
Cheyenne’s girlish giggles caught him off guard. The girl wrapped in a womanly body jumped forward to take his hand in greeting. Electrical jolts surged at the touch of her smooth small hand in his. Her eyes sparkled with delight and his heart did flips at the aroma of soft scented flowers on a morning breeze.
He chided himself for turning into some kind of mushy moonstruck man going googly-eyed over some woman he barely knew. His ability to be a tough trainer waned. Secretly, he prayed she would work out. It would be nice to see her face first thing every morning.
Her tight enough jeans and the jingle of her spurs enchanted him. Sweet angelic giggles added sparks to her eyes. Straight white teeth showed through Cheyenne’s thick lips. Long lashes touched her cheeks when she blinked, a few more twinkles added each time her eyes closed for a second.
Breath caught in his throat as he gazed at her beauty. He failed to control his heart as it made its way up and out, floated the short distance between the two, before coming to rest next to hers. No doubt in his mind he had to win her attention as she had already captured his.
****
Uneasy strides carried Shawnee to an empty table where she sipped on her coffee and glanced at familiar and unfamiliar faces. Cattlemen of all sorts talked and laughed from various tables, filling the room with a buzz of excitement.
“Morning, ladies.” Mason Ward flashed a big, white smile.
“Morning.” Cheyenne extended her hand. Shawnee watched the excitement build in her sister’s eyes.
“How are y’all today?” Mason winked at Cheyenne. He removed his Stetson to reveal a well-cut dark head of hair.
Shawnee tilted her head in amazement at the giddiness that took over Cheyenne. It had been a long time since she witnessed her sister get all mushy and giggly over a man. Cheyenne had better watch her step around Mr.Ward. He was their boss and that could turn into a lawsuit for the both of them.
Mason shifted his eyes from Cheyenne and shook Shawnee’s hand. His curt nod and bright smile was enough to draw any woman into a long line of has-beens.
Shawnee shook the image from her mind. Mason’s words flowed smooth and slow as he explained the requirements of the jobs. His eyes fixed on the blonde Cheyenne the whole time he talked. Shawnee shuddered to think she was invisible as words directed for her were spoken to Cheyenne.
Cheyenne giggled with delight. Shawnee rolled her eyes thinking how childlike Cheyenne could be at times. Her injuries suffered from the accident were extensive and Shawnee had to sit by and watch as the effects came in spurts. She blinked her eyes free of the images from the past. It was time to let her sister grow on her own. Another bout of laughter drew her back to the here and now. She glanced at her new boss.
Mason pointed Shawnee to the office. “Your office is in there. Carla will show you what to do.”
He took Cheyenne by the arm and led her out of the building. Shawnee shook her head and walked across the hall.
“Hello?” Shawnee walked into the empty room. Her nerves threatened to jump into what-kind-of-person-do-I-have-to-work-with mode. She glanced around the well-organized office.
“Be right with you,” a woman’s voice called from the storeroom. A file cabinet door clicked, and the short gray-haired woman from the hallway appeared. “How can I help you?”
“I’m Shawnee Turner. I’m supposed to start to work as the new accountant.” Shawnee glanced around the room.
One desk stood in the middle of the room. File cabinets lined one wall, while a small table holding fliers and brochures leaned against another wall below a corkboard cluttered with business cards.
“I’ve been waiting for you. Mason said you’d be in today. I'll never see daylight if I have to do the job of two people. Your office is in there,” the older woman pointed to the dark room. “If you want to start on the files in your basket, we’ll see what you can do. If you have any questions, I’ll be here at my desk.”
Shawnee walked in the office and flipped on the light. An overabundant pile of folders were scattered across the desk. With a shake of her head, she hung her purse on the coat rack and set to work straightening the mess.
Chapter Three
Out back, Cheyenne unloaded cattle from trucks and stock trailers. She took the names of the owners, assigned pen numbers, and headed the rambunctious cattle down the alleys to the cowboys on horseback to pen in the assigned area. She was no stranger to the sale barn or its operations.
The company of the husky Mason Randall sent a special kind of energy running through her shattered life. The ease of laughter surprised her. She hadn’t felt like having fun for over a year, and somehow this man wiped out the losses in her life.
Credit was due Shawnee as she tried to help her get over the accident. The only difference between Mason’s u
nderstanding and Shawnee’s was her sister had experienced the losses and had gone through it with her. She was too close to the incident and needed her own time to deal. Guilt swept over Cheyenne and she wiped a tear from her eye and then twisted back to Mason.
“How well can you ride?” Mason’s hearty, happy voice boomed across the backs of the cattle she unloaded from a semi-trailer.
“I’m a fair enough rider. I can get on and off without falling on my backside.” Cheyenne gazed at the handsome face smeared with cow manure and mud. The last cow off the truck blew snot and slobber. Cheyenne stood her ground and shooed the cow down the alley.
The cow shook its head at Mason and took a few steps toward him. He stayed near the fence with his feet planted on the ground. The cow sidled off down the alley to catch up with the others.
Mason closed in on Cheyenne. “Yeah, can you ride as fast as a horse can run and turn?”
Cheyenne laughed. “Oh heck yeah, can you?” she countered.
“Not always. I’ve taken a dust bath a time or two. Not here in front of everybody though.” His bright smile showed two dimpled cheeks. His dark hair waved hello to the birds when he removed his straw hat.
The wink of little stars filled his eyes when he gazed in her direction. She struggled to release the breath that threatened to lay dormant in her lungs. A sense of pride swelled in her chest when he handed her the reins to his horse.
With a chuckle under her breath, she mounted the horse and sent it into a spin and headed down the long alley. She peeked over her shoulder every now and again.
The closed gate stopped the forward procedure. Cheyenne twirled in the saddle and reached down, pulled the handle, and pushed the gate aside. At last glance, Mason’s jaw rested on his chest, his hands perched on his hips before throwing them in the air in resignation at her skills. She trotted down the alley on the back of the big bay gelding.
