Lassoing the Deputy

by Marie Ferrarella

  “He’ll be at the diner after six,” Alma immediately volunteered.

  “Okay. When I run into him,” Eli said, amending his previous statement. Since Alma had brought up the subject of Cash, he felt it was safe to ask her a question that had him concerned. “And while we’re on the subject, how are you holding up?”

  “Holding up?” she repeated innocently. “What d’you mean?”

  In response, she heard Eli laugh. “You’re a hell of a lot of things, Alma, and you can hold your own with the best of them, but I’d give up any thoughts of being an actress if I were you. That was about as stiff a delivery as I’ve ever heard,” he critiqued. And then his voice softened a bit. “C’mon, kid,” he coaxed. “This is me, Eli. Talk to me. How are you holding up?” he asked.

  This time she was the one who paused before answering. Taking in a long breath, Alma finally said, “I’m okay, Eli. Thanks for asking. But really, all that’s in the past. Whatever there was between Cash and me is long gone.”

  “So then why this sudden interest in recruiting him for a work crew? Is the big-city lawyer bored already?” he asked.

  She found herself growing protective of Cash. Protective of a man who had all but issued her her walking papers so long ago. She should have her head examined, Alma thought.

  But there was no changing her. She knew that as well as anyone.

  “No,” she told Eli, “but I think the big-city lawyer’s dealing with something he won’t talk about. I’m just trying to get him to remember that he’s among friends.”

  Eli laughed softly.

  “Never could stand anyone keeping anything from you, could you, kid?”

  “This doesn’t have anything to do with me,” she informed her brother in what he’d come to refer to as her “deputy voice,” the voice of cool authority. “This is to help him—and you. A win-win situation from where I’m standing. Don’t forget, he’ll be at the diner after six. Be there.” With that, she hung up.

  “The hell it doesn’t have anything to do with you,” Eli said to the receiver in his hand.

  *

  CASH HAD FORGOTTEN JUST how dirty he could get, doing chores on the ranch.

  Forgot, too, how good it felt doing those chores. Working with his hands. Putting his back into it.

  Being a lawyer required just as much stamina as being a rancher did, but, depending on the choice, different parts of a man were called into action. The long hours he put in at the firm left him feeling drained and exhausted beyond words mentally, but he had to admit that it was just as satisfying—and maybe a little more so—to do ranch work, which left him physically exhausted.

  He liked putting himself out there, pitting himself against the land as well as the horses his grandfather raised.

  Cash had gotten so caught up with helping his grandfather’s two ranch hands that he’d completely lost track of time. So much so that before he knew it, he had less than half an hour to meet Alma at the appointed time at the diner.

  Which would have been no problem if he’d taken off right then, but he couldn’t. Couldn’t very well walk into the diner smelling like a man who’d been cleaning out stalls, among other things, all afternoon. So he’d stopped to take a very quick shower.

  Which, perforce, still made him late.

  As he drove to town, doing ten to fifteen miles over the speed limit, he wondered if she’d wait, or just assume he wasn’t coming and leave.

  When Alma had suggested that they grab a cup of coffee together this afternoon, he’d felt relief and maybe just a glimmer of hope for the first time since he’d heard the news bulletin that had sent his life into a spiraling, devastating tailspin.

  Not that he was about to get carried away, or even really feel anything significant enough to register. On an emotional scale of zero to ten, his emotions were all hovering at zero.

  Because he wanted them to.

  Everything inside of him was still on lockdown. That was the only way he knew of to survive. If he opened himself up, if he allowed his emotions to come out, he had a feeling that, most likely, he would wind up having a complete meltdown. The guilt that he was so desperately trying to avoid would push forward and consume him, swallowing him up whole.

  As it was, right now, it was a constant battle to keep it all at bay. To not allow himself to think about what he was ultimately responsible for.

  Lockdown was his only hope.

  Still, he couldn’t help thinking, Alma belonged to a time when life had been easier to deal with and far less complicated.

  A time, he knew, he had deliberately turned his back on. And hurt people.

  Hurt Alma.

  Because of that, he didn’t deserve to revisit that period, but that, even more than his grandfather’s upcoming wedding, was why he was here. Not to recapture that time, because he knew that was impossible, but he wanted to try to remember what he’d felt, what he’d been like back then, if only for a few minutes.

  That, too, would help him in his attempt to survive.

  Hair still damp, the fresh clothes he’d put on sticking to a body that wasn’t quite dried off, Cash walked into the diner. He scanned the area, looking for Alma as he took a few tentative steps forward.

  At first, he didn’t see her. He was twenty minutes late, despite the quick shower and all but dashing into his clothes still wet.

  He should have called to tell her that he was running late, Cash scolded himself. Alma probably thought he’d stood her up or changed his mind. Not that he could blame her. After all, it wasn’t as if he’d behaved dependably toward her.

  And then he saw her coming out from the rear of the diner. She was busy talking to one of the waitresses, but her eyes met his and she nodded. Relieved, unaware of the fact that he was actually smiling broadly, Cash made his way over to her, an apology ripe on his lips.

  “Hi,” he greeted her the moment he was close enough not to have to shout. “I was afraid you’d left. Sorry I’m late.” The two sentences ran together.

  Alma turned away from the waitress and allowed herself to take full measure of him, her eyes traveling over the length of his body. It wasn’t her imagination. He really was wet.

  “Is it raining?” she asked.

  The sky had appeared threatening all day and there had been a couple of rumbles of thunder, but apparently that was just Mother Nature’s way of teasing the people in this region, all of whom were praying for rain. It had been a long time in between downpours. The land was significantly parched and dry, and the ground was beginning to crack in places, as if opening itself up in hopes of being able to absorb water if it should happen to rain. These days, the grass was sparse and brown more often than it was green. And the price of the hay used to feed the horses had gone up. Again.

  Maybe he should have taken another couple of minutes to dry off properly, Cash thought. “No, why?”

  “Your hair’s all wet.” As she spoke, she touched his hair to see if it was as wet as it looked—it was. “And you don’t look altogether dry, either,” she concluded. “What happened?”

  The shrug he gave in response was almost self-conscious and so reminiscent of the young man he’d once been, she couldn’t help thinking. The one who’d owned her heart so completely.

  “I was working in the barn, mucking out the stalls, and I guess I lost track of time. I didn’t want you to think I was standing you up, but I didn’t think you’d want to sit opposite me smelling the way I did, so I stopped to take a quick shower.”

  The thought of his rushing on her account made her smile. Maybe in a way, she still mattered to him. At least a tiny bit.

  “I would have made sure I sat upwind of you,” Alma assured him. For a second, her eyes held his. “But I do appreciate the thoughtfulness.”

  She turned to glance over her shoulder. Just as she suspected, Miss Joan was making no secret of the fact that she was watching them. “We’ll have that coffee now, Miss Joan.”

  The woman nodded. “Just sit yourselves at t
hat table,” Miss Joan instructed, pointing toward the one that Alma had been occupying before she’d gotten up to talk to one of the waitresses. “I’ll have two cups of coffee there for you before you know it,” she promised.

  Alma led the way back. Cash tried not to let his eyes dip down to watch her as her hips moved to a silent rhythm only she was unaware of, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. Working hard and then rushing had worn down his resolve.

  “So your grandfather put you to work, did he?” she asked once they reached the table and she sat down.

  Cash slid into the booth opposite her. “Actually, I had to beg him to let me. He said this was my vacation and I should just kick back, but I convinced him that I really wanted to lend a hand. I’d forgotten how satisfying it is to work with your hands. And,” he confessed, “how backbreaking.” As if to underscore his point, he rotated his shoulders. “I’ve got places starting to ache that I’d forgotten I even had.”

  He was wearing a work shirt, its sleeves rolled up. She could see veins and definition along his forearms. It reminded her of the way he’d looked that last summer. “That’s because you’re not used to it.”

  “It’s not like I just sit behind a desk all day and don’t move,” he protested.

  She cocked her head, a smile playing on her lips. “They have you jumping over the bar to get into the courtroom, do they?”

  “I meant I belong to a gym,” he clarified. “I work out whenever I can.”

  Yes, she could believe that. He still cut an impressive figure, but it wasn’t exactly the same as when he’d lived here among them.

  “You use a different set of muscles working on a ranch,” she pointed out.

  “Don’t I know it,” Cash groaned. Again he rotated his shoulders, trying to undo the knot he felt growing between his shoulder blades. And there was a stiffness along his shoulders that promised to give him a lot of trouble by this evening.

  He noticed that Alma was doing her best not to grin. “It’ll probably be worse tomorrow,” she predicted.

  “Something to look forward to,” he muttered under his breath.

  Miss Joan approached their table just then, holding a steaming mug of coffee in each hand. She placed one down in front of each of them. She looked in absolutely no hurry to retreat.

  She’d managed to catch the last part of their conversation and made no attempt to appear as if she hadn’t been listening. After all, that was what she did. How else could she help and advise people?

  “Why don’t you give Cash a massage after you’re done here?” she suggested to Alma. She nodded toward the back office, a small cubbyhole that was crammed with various things she felt might be useful. “I’ve got some liniment you can use.” Her eyes swept over Cash and then back to Alma. “Might help.”

  That would require touching him, Alma thought. Touching his bare skin. The flood of memories would be more than she could handle right now.

  Survival instincts kicked in and Alma began to demur, “I don’t think—”

  Miss Joan looked at her pointedly. “I’m getting married to Harry in a few days. Harry’s Cash’s grandfather. That’ll make Cash my grandson and my family.” Miss Joan tried not to dwell on the way the word family made her feel, instead plowing on. “I’d take it as a personal favor if you took a little pity on the boy, see what you could do to alleviate his misery, Alma.”

  Cash didn’t have to look at her to sense Alma’s reluctance. He shook his head. “I’m fine, Miss Joan,” he protested. “Really.”

  Miss Joan gave him a look that said she knew better. “That grimace on your face doesn’t say you’re fine, boy, but have it your way.” She shrugged her thin shoulders. “The offer still stands, though. Got the liniment right there in the back office,” she added by way of a reminder as she walked off.

  Alma hesitated. “Look, if you’re really in a lot of pain—” she began.

  “No, it’s okay.” He didn’t want her to feel that she was on the spot because of Miss Joan. He didn’t want Alma doing anything that made her uncomfortable. Besides, maybe having her spreading liniment on his aching shoulders wasn’t the best idea—for either of them. “I’m sure I’ll get used to it. Like you said, just a different set of muscles being exercised.”

  “Okay,” she agreed, making use of the opening he’d afforded her. “Then maybe you’re up for more of those muscles being exercised.”

  “What d’you mean?” he asked, surprised.

  The look on his face told her that perhaps she hadn’t exactly worded her last statement correctly. “I was just asking if you were open to a little more physical work.” Yeah, that’s a big improvement, she mocked herself. She spoke more quickly. “My brothers and the sheriff are working on a wedding arch for your grandfather and Miss Joan. You know, someplace for them to stand along with the minister and exchange their vows. Eli mentioned that he could use some help so I told him that I’d ask you if you wanted to pitch in since it was for your grandfather and all,” she added, watching his face.

  For a second, her words had his thoughts taking him someplace else. Why he would think that she was suggesting that they get together in that way was beyond him. He’d burned that bridge behind him the minute he’d gone across it and away from her.

  Chagrined, he said, “Sure, count me in.”

  Can’t act, huh, Eli? Alma thought, feeling rather smug about the performance she’d just given, making Cash think the idea to pitch in had been Eli’s and not hers. In your face, big brother.

  Chapter Seven

  Sitting in the diner across from Cash, the din swelling around them as they talked, for just a moment Alma basked in the feeling that this was just like old times.

  Or as close times as she was probably going to get.

  They’d finished only a little less than half their coffees—each was just sipping the dark liquid almost as an afterthought while they talked—when Eli walked into the diner.

  Or when he sauntered into the diner, that was probably a better description for it, Alma thought.

  She could see several women look in her brother’s direction, their words obviously momentarily suspended in midair or on their tongues as they let their imaginations roam a bit on the wild side before continuing with their lives.

  Her big brother would break a lot of hearts when he finally got married.

  Alma was quick to raise her hand in the air, trying to catch her brother’s attention.

  “Hey, Eli,” she called out to him. “Over here.” She beckoned him over. “Come join us. You don’t mind, right?” she asked Cash belatedly.

  “No, I don’t mind,” he said quietly.

  Eli Rodriguez had once been his best friend, but since Eli was also Alma’s brother, he had broken any connection to his friend, as well. At the time, he’d told himself that it was for the best.

  The only tie he hadn’t severed was that with his grandfather.

  The man, he couldn’t help thinking, who had tried to keep him grounded. But no one could tell him anything back then after he’d had his first taste of big-city life, least of all that he would come to regret breaking with everything that was real in life.

  Eli strode hesitantly over to their booth, as if not sure how to act.

  Cash eliminated the awkwardness by immediately initiating the conversation. “Alma said you need an extra hand building the wedding arch.”

  Eli’s eyes darted over toward the counter to make sure that Miss Joan, with her batlike hearing, hadn’t overheard Cash’s remark.

  “Yes, we do,” he said as he slid in next to his sister in the booth and faced Eli. “Two hands if you can spare them,” he cracked. And then he lowered his voice, “But if you don’t mind, don’t say anything about this to your grandfather—or Miss Joan. It’s supposed to be a surprise.”

  “Oh.” Cash looked at Eli’s sister. “Alma didn’t mention that part.”

  “Alma didn’t know that part,” Alma said in her own defense, looking at Eli. “You never
said anything about it being a surprise.”

  “I just assumed you’d figure that part out. Sorry, I guess I should have known better,” Eli told her, doing his best to keep a straight face.

  “What you should have done was said something,” she corrected. “I’m not a mind reader, Eli, even if the mind is as simple as yours.”

  Cash looked from Eli to Alma and shook his head, amusement flittering ever so slightly into his somber features. “Well, I see nothing’s changed.”

  And once, when he was just getting started at the firm in L.A., he knew he would have thought that sameness was off-putting and hokey. Instead, now he found it to be oddly reassuring. Like a child uncovering something familiar to cling to in the middle of a violent storm, he couldn’t help thinking.

  “What do you mean?” Alma asked. There was a trace of defensiveness rising in her voice as she braced herself for a put-down.

  “You and Eli are still at it, ragging on one another,” Cash told her. Although he knew she loved all her brothers fiercely and was the first to jump to their defense, Alma had always been very competitive when it came to her brothers. She never wanted to be thought of as lacking in any area, never wanted to be left behind in any race. “Are you still like that with the rest of your brothers?”

  “If you’re asking if they try my patience, yes, they do,” she answered, pausing to take another sip of her coffee which was now growing cold. “Otherwise, I haven’t got the faintest idea what it is that you’re talking about,” she sniffed.

  “Never mind her for now,” Eli said, waving a dismissive hand at his sister. “You think you can come over to the ranch tomorrow and give us some help for a couple of hours? Any time you can spare, swinging a hammer or manning a saw, would be much appreciated. We’re cutting it kind of close,” he admitted.

  “Sure, anything I can do to help,” Cash heard himself agreeing. It felt almost liberating, he thought. But then, working with his hands always was a great way to relieve his stress.

  Initially, he’d just planned to come back to Forever to attend the wedding. For the most part, he had intended to stand back like an observer in someone else’s life. It would be an attempt on his part to get a handle on things and maybe, if he was lucky, to take comfort in the fact that some places in the country—specifically his hometown—hadn’t changed.