Promise from a Cowboy

by C. J. Carmichael

  But those were all Hunter’s choices to make.

  She let out a long breath, then sneaked another look at B.J. He hadn’t shaved that morning, but with his dark hair and firm chin, he only looked more handsome for it.

  How many hearts had he broken in the past eighteen years?

  “If this truly is Travis McBride, his family is going to have the right to ask some questions about that night. The story about the lightning and him just happening to be passed out in the loft—it won’t cut it.”

  “I know.”

  She waited, and when he said nothing further, she asked, “Is this still about protecting Hunter?”

  He laughed bitterly. “That’d be pretty foolish of me, wouldn’t it? Protecting the brother of a girl I haven’t dated since high school?”

  Foolish? Maybe. But also noble. And so like the boy she remembered.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t a better friend to you back then, B.J. I did care about you.”

  “It would have meant a lot to hear you say that then.”

  “I know. I wish—” She tried to turn away, but he placed his hands on her shoulders, locking her in place.

  “What do you wish?”

  She averted her head, disconcerted by the emotion in his voice and on his face. She had enough training that she could have easily broken away if she wanted to. But she let him continue to hold her at arm’s length.

  They’d gone so long without having this conversation. She was surprised he’d brought it up now.

  “Does my opinion really matter so much? After all these years?”

  The sun had been behind a cloud, but then it shifted and brilliant sunshine cut through the trees. B.J’s face was bathed in the golden light and she could see the green flecks in his dark gray eyes.

  “It shouldn’t, should it?”

  His cryptic comment wasn’t an answer. But then, she hadn’t answered him, either.

  “I thought I could trust you to keep him out of trouble. But I see that was unfair. Expecting too much. He just got worse after that night, B.J. I spent so much time worrying about him and trying to keep him in school and out of trouble, that I just let our relationship slide.”

  “You always did have too much on your plate.” Finally he released his hold, his expression disappointed. “But I needed you, too.”

  “Back then, it seemed as if Hunter needed me more.”

  After all, B.J. had had so many advantages over her brother. A stable family life. A father who was a good role model. And a mother who cared what happened to him more than she cared about the flowers growing in her garden.

  “You were more of a parent to him than a sister.”

  It was so true. And it still was. “Can you at least promise me that you and Hunter didn’t know he was in the loft when that fire broke out?” Even as she asked the question, she knew it was a mistake, that she was better off not knowing.

  Yet she couldn’t help waiting anxiously for his answer.

  B.J.’s gaze had dropped to his boots. He shifted his weight from one leg to the other before finally lifting his eyes to meet hers. “We didn’t know. I promise.”

  She wished she could believe him.

  * * *

  B.J. HADN’T EXPECTED coming back to Coffee Creek would be this hard. That spending time with Savannah would be so painful. After so many years he’d figured he might have stopped caring by now.

  But he hadn’t.

  If anything she was more beautiful now that she was older. And the power and authority she’d earned during her years of work as first a deputy, and now sheriff, only added to her attraction.

  He’d never liked weak people.

  And Savannah was anything but that.

  She wasn’t stupid, either. She knew he wasn’t telling her the truth about that night. But she didn’t know, and he hoped she never did, his reasons for being evasive.

  After their awkward meeting at the cemetery, B.J. went to grab coffee and a bun from the Cinnamon Stick Café. Though Winnie Hays had opened it only a few years ago, it had quickly become a favorite meeting spot for many of the local residents, specially famous for the cinnamon buns baked by former bronco rider—and recovered alcoholic—Vince Butterfield.

  B.J. was prepared to join a queue for service, but the café was atypically quiet when he stepped inside. He nodded hello to Tabitha Snow, the local librarian, who was on her way out.

  “B.J....nice to see you. Having a good season?”

  “Good to see you, too, Ms. Snow. And not bad, thanks,” he added, in response to her question about his rodeo standings. He held the door wide until she’d passed through, then entered the now empty, deliciously scented space.

  Dawn Dolan, a cute little thing with a blond ponytail and a smattering of freckles on her nose, gave him the sort of smile he usually shied away from with girls as young as she was.

  But he needed his breakfast, damn it.

  “Hey, Dawn. Mind pouring me a coffee and getting me one of Vince’s buns to go?”

  “No problem, B.J. How did you do at the Wild Rogue?”

  “Best all-around,” he admitted, “but Cass took third in barrel racing and Farley came in first in steer wrestling.” He glanced behind her, toward the kitchen. “Is Laurel in today?”

  He wanted to ask if she and Corb could make it to the big house for dinner tonight. Much as he dreaded such gatherings, it was time for a family meeting.

  “She and Stephanie don’t usually come in until around ten.” She glanced at her watch. “That’s in just thirty minutes. You could sit and wait if you wanted.”

  “No, thanks. I’ll just send Corb a text message.” He pulled out his phone to do it before he forgot. “Might as well say hi to Vince, then I’ll be on my way. Mind if I step through to the kitchen?”

  “No need. Heard your voice, just had to punch down the dough before I came out to see your ugly face.” Vince, dressed in the odd combination of Western jeans, boots and a snowy-white baker’s apron, came out of the kitchen with a rare smile on his face. Long days in the sun, too much partying and not enough sleep had all taken their toll on Vince—he looked every day of his sixty-odd years and then some.

  Vince was a man of few words and carefully guarded emotions. But he’d been on the circuit and he loved catching up on the news whenever B.J. was in town.

  The two chatted while Dawn rang in his sale then poured his coffee and packaged his cinnamon bun.

  “So where’s the next rodeo?” Vince asked.

  “Not sure. I’m planning to hang out at home for a while.”

  “Yeah?” Vince looked surprised, but didn’t probe. Then he startled B.J. by adding, “That’s probably a good idea.”

  B.J. hesitated. Vince wasn’t normally one to offer opinions or advice. “Any particular reason you say that?”

  “If I said it, I guess there was a reason.”

  Hard to argue with that. But obviously Vince wasn’t in the mood to elaborate. He rarely was.

  “Okay, then. See you around, Vince.”

  The retired cowboy nodded before returning to his kitchen.

  Next stop was Molly’s Market to pick up groceries for that evening’s dinner—which he planned to cook. As he selected a cut of beef for fajitas, B.J. ruminated over Vince’s comments. Clearly Vince felt B.J. was needed here in Coffee Creek. Was it possible the old bronco rider had heard that the case of the unknown traveler was about to be reopened? Or had he been referring to something else entirely? Something a little closer to home?

  * * *

  OLIVE, CASSIDY AND FARLEY arrived back at the ranch that afternoon at five, tired from their long drive, but still jubilant over their wins at the rodeo. B.J. had already put the beef to marinate and chopped up plates of peppers and onions. He met his family at t
he front door, along with Sky. Cassidy’s fourteen-year-old border collie usually hung out at one of the cabins by the lake, but she seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to anticipating Cassidy’s arrival at the big house.

  Cassidy rewarded her with a hug, while she gave her older brother a smile and a curious look.

  “So you’re really here.” Olive slipped out of the driver’s seat of her SUV—his mother was incongruously petite in comparison to the sturdy all-wheel-drive vehicle. “Your note caught us by surprise. I thought you were driving up to Washington next?”

  “I’ve had a change of plans and I was hoping I could run them by the family tonight after dinner.” B.J. gave his mother a kiss, hugged his sister, then clapped a hand on Farley’s shoulder. “Can you and Cassidy make it? I’m cooking.”

  “You are?” his mother asked, her raised eyebrows belying the mild tone of her question.

  “There’s a first time for everything. Hope you don’t mind me taking over the kitchen?” He knew she wouldn’t. Cooking wasn’t one of his mother’s favorite activities. Most of the big-house meals were prepared by the housekeeper. Currently this was Bonny Platter, a good-natured, no-guff woman in her fifties who had moved to Coffee Creek three years ago and been glad to find a steady, well-paying job. B.J. had sent her home early an hour ago, assuring her that she deserved the break.

  B.J. could only imagine the challenges involved in working in his mother’s household. Olive was hard enough to please when it came to the barns, let alone the house.

  “I have no objection to you cooking, B.J. Whenever you are so inclined, please feel free.”

  He grinned. “I thought you’d say that. By the way, I’ve already invited Corb, Laurel and the baby.”

  His mother’s face lit up, until he added, “And Jackson, too, of course.”

  “Of course,” she added, drily.

  “We can start with margaritas on the back deck. I have a pitcher ready to go in the fridge.”

  Cassidy gave him a glowing smile. “Then what are we doing out here? I’ll grab the pitcher if you get the glasses, Mom.”

  * * *

  CORB, LAUREL and baby Stephanie joined them about thirty minutes later. B.J. hadn’t spent much time with babies, but he got a kick out of holding his new niece and trying to coax smiles and giggles out of her. They kept the conversation light. No sense getting down to business until Jackson showed up.

  Their foster brother didn’t arrive, however, until minutes before the fajitas were served.

  B.J. had barbecued the steak, then sliced it thinly and served it alongside bowls of guacamole, shredded lettuce and the sautéed onions and peppers. A stack of warmed corn tortillas and a bowl of salsa completed the meal.

  They ate outdoors, enjoying the warm early-summer evening. Whether it was the plentiful food, the good weather or the two pitchers of margaritas that had been savored over the course of the evening, the overall mood was congenial and relaxed when B.J. deemed the timing right to make his announcement.

  He raised his eyebrows at Jackson, who knew what he was planning to say, then got up from his chair in order to silence the conversation.

  Cassidy and Farley, who’d been replaying the details of the rodeo for Corb and Laurel’s benefit, both fell silent.

  “You have something to say, bro?” Corb asked.

  “I do.” With the attention on him, B.J. sat down again. “Jackson and I both have announcements to make.”

  Olive’s keen eyes shifted from her son to Jackson, then back again. “What’s this about, B.J.?”

  “It’s about the ranch,” he said. “Jackson has had an offer for another job and he wants to take it. And I’m prepared to handle his responsibilities here—if that’s okay with you and Corb.”

  The light that exploded in Olive’s expressive green eyes was nothing less than jubilant. He knew he’d just granted two of her deepest desires in one shot.

  But Corb’s reaction was more ambivalent. “B.J., that’s awesome—you know we’d love to have you back here working full-time. But Jackson doesn’t have to leave. God knows, there’s enough work—and responsibility—for both of you.”

  “I do appreciate that,” Jackson said slowly. Then he turned to Olive. “I truly am thankful for everything the Lambert family has done for me since I was thirteen. I’ve been feeling for some time, though, that I ought to be moving on.”

  “I’m sure a man of your talents has plenty of opportunities,” Olive said.

  Corb looked at his mother as if she were crazy. “His opportunities are here at Coffee Creek Ranch.” He tossed his napkin on the table. “I thought we already settled this, Jackson.”

  “You told me the family needed me, and so I agreed to stay,” Jackson countered. “But now B.J. is willing to step in. I figure that frees me to make my own choices.”

  “Hell. I never wanted you to stay on out of obligation.” Corb’s voice betrayed his hurt. “You’re like family to me. To all of us. I thought we were the same to you.”

  Laurel put a hand on her husband’s shoulder, as if sensing his pain and wanting to show her solidarity.

  “I’m not doing this to hurt you or your family,” Jackson insisted.

  Corb’s expression told him, however, that he was doing exactly that. Finally Corb refocused his attention to his older brother. “Well. You two obviously have this all worked out.”

  “We just spoke yesterday,” B.J. said, not wanting Corb to feel as if there’d been some sort of conspiracy between him and Jackson.

  “Wow. These are pretty big decisions to be making in one day.” Corb folded his arms across his chest, as if he could block out their words if he just tried hard enough.

  “Agreed. But Jackson has been offered a job. And I believe they want him to start right away.” B.J. glanced at Jackson for confirmation.

  Jackson nodded.

  “Well.” Olive’s voice was crisp and decisive. “It doesn’t sound like any decisions are needed on our part. I’m delighted to hear that B.J. will be stepping in to his rightful place on this ranch.”

  Yet again, B.J. endured her triumphant smile.

  “And I think we should all be encouraging Jackson to take this new opportunity,” Olive continued. “He’s thirty now, and I’m not surprised he wants to move on with his life.”

  B.J. didn’t bother pointing out his mother’s hypocrisy. She certainly had never felt that he, Corb or Cassidy needed to “move on with their lives.” In fact, she’d fought tooth and nail against it.

  Then again, they all knew she’d never accepted Jackson as part of the family, despite Bob Lambert’s efforts.

  “Since I can’t seem to get you to change your mind,” Corb finally conceded, “all I can say is I hope it’s a really good job that you’re leaving us for.”

  “Where will you be working?” Cassidy asked, finally saying outright what they’d all been wondering.

  “I won’t be going far. In fact, we’ll still be neighbors.”

  B.J. couldn’t think what he meant. Farley’s land abutted theirs to the north, while the county road bordered the south and east property lines. Was Jackson talking beyond the road?

  But Cassidy figured out the answer first. “You’re going to Silver Creek Ranch?”

  Everyone turned to Jackson. It seemed even the birds fell silent waiting for his answer.

  When he nodded, Olive’s face turned sickly pale. Her lips thinned and her eyes narrowed sharply as she fixed her gaze on the man her husband had treated like one of his sons. “You’d do that to us? After all we—and especially Bob—did for you?”

  Jackson let out a long, tired breath. “I was hoping you wouldn’t see it that way.”

  With a quavering voice Olive asked, “How else should I see it?” Slowly she rose to her feet. “I’m just glad Bob didn’t
live to see this day.” Deliberately she folded her napkin, placed it on the table and headed into the house.

  B.J. knew she expected at least one of them to follow her, commiserate on Jackson’s betrayal and condemn his evil actions. But they were all too curious to hear the rest of the story.

  “How did this come about?” Cassidy shifted her chair closer to Jackson’s.

  “You all know that since Brock passed on, I’ve been helping Maddie out with the odd job.”

  “That’s an understatement,” Farley said. “You put a new roof on her house and the cattle barn.”

  “Yeah. Working in dribs and drabs. But the place is in bigger trouble than that. She’s sold off most of her livestock and run up some loans. And then she found out she had lung cancer.”

  “How is she doing?” Cassidy asked.

  “She’s out of the hospital for now, but she’s refused treatment, and I don’t think she’ll have long. Maybe six months to a year.”

  Jackson’s blunt prognosis hit B.J. hard. This woman was his aunt. Too late, he realized that whatever the reason behind the family differences, he never should have let the feud carry on this long.

  “Is she planning to go to a hospice?” Laurel asked, concerned.

  “No. She wants to die at home.”

  Jackson sure wasn’t sugarcoating any of this.

  “The agreement we’ve come to,” Jackson continued, “is that I’ll board with her so she isn’t alone. As well, I’ll take over operation of the cattle business—such as it is.”

  “I do feel badly for her,” Corb said. “It was real nice of her to remember Brock with all those flower wreaths, and I’m sure she’s a decent lady despite what Mom would have us believe. But this doesn’t sound like much of an opportunity for you.”

  “You haven’t heard the whole deal,” Jackson said. “In return for my labor and the investment of all the capital I’ve saved up over the years, Maddie Turner is planning to bequeath her ranch to me.”

  Chapter Six

  “Heck and darn!” Cassidy exploded with an expression that B.J. had always found mildly annoying. “She’s giving you the whole five hundred acres?”