The Trouble With Cowboys

by Melissa Cutler

  He kissed her back and stood. Forgiveness was a prickly bitch he’d never had much luck with, but Amy was right—he needed to move on from the pain of his past with a clear conscience and an open heart. The bitterness in Jake’s voice the last time they talked had been a shock to his system; he didn’t want to be like that for a single day more. He’d wasted too many years in that dark place already.

  His mom sat folded on the bench swing, her legs tucked under her, a lit cigarette balanced between her fingers as she stared into the dark night. Loose, pale skin hung from her bones. She looked one gust of wind away from coming down with pneumonia.

  “Cold night,” he said. “Can I get you a blanket?”

  “Nah, the smoke’s nasty enough without stinking up one of Amy’s blankets.”

  He sat next to her. The bench joints creaked. “I talked to Jake last night.”

  She took a slow drag on the cigarette and blew it out in a thin stream. “Told him to run for the hills ’cause I’m headed his way?”

  “No. I asked his permission to give you his phone number and address to save you from wandering the streets of L.A. searching for him.”

  “What’d he say to that?”

  “He asked for Amy’s phone number so he could call you himself.” It was a kinder version of the truth, but Kellan still felt the stirrings of guilt. The woman next to him was fragile, with dull, paper-thin skin and sunken cheeks. A wisp of how he remembered her. Time hadn’t shown her mercy. How did someone hate such a pathetic creature? For the first time, Kellan felt sorry for this woman who had wasted her life and her health and her family and had nothing but a decrepit body to show for it.

  “He doesn’t want me coming out there, is all.”

  Maybe the drugs hadn’t dulled her mind as much as Kellan thought. “I didn’t say that.”

  “But it’s true. I don’t blame either of you boys in the least for hating me. I never did put you first in my life.”

  What could he say to that? She was right, but he didn’t feel like piling on his resentment tonight. He strained to think of something she’d done right as a mother. “I remember you bringing groceries home from your job.”

  She looked at him for a long time, her unattended cigarette turning into a tube of ashes between her fingers. After a while, she said, “S’pose that’s true. That’s something, ain’t it?”

  “It is. I still love instant mashed potatoes.”

  She laughed, a thick, phlegm-laced chuckle. “I remember the first time you saw a real potato. It was at our neighbor’s house, Mrs. Castillo. You must’ve been ten or eleven. You thought that potato was the ugliest thing God created. You said, ‘That’s what I’ve been eating? It looks like a dirt ball.’” She laughed again and took another hit off the cigarette. “Never thought I’d miss those days until I was locked up, with no one coming around to visit and no drugs to help me forget how alone I was.”

  He started the swing in a slow back-and-forth. “I never thought I’d miss those days, either, but sometimes I do. I wish I didn’t. Would be easier if I didn’t have any fond memories of growing up. But there are parts I can’t let go of.”

  “Like the potatoes.”

  “Like the potatoes, yes.”

  She set her hand on his knee. Since her release from prison, he hadn’t allowed her to touch him, thinking she did so not out of motherly love, but as a manipulation. Tonight, her touch still didn’t feel like motherly love, but he didn’t recoil from it either. And he didn’t think she was buttering him up to ask for money, as she had in the past.

  “I’m sorry for what I put you through. You and your brother. Not just while you were growing up, but every time I came around since, drugged out and expecting you to help me. You did the right thing, turning me away.”

  “You think you have a shot at staying sober this time?”

  “I do. Now that I’ve left your father behind, and am attending meetings every day, I know I can do it.”

  Hope, like a small flame, flickered to life inside Kellan. “How do you like it here in Catcher Creek?”

  “From what I’ve seen, it’s a good place. A good match for you. And the people have been so nice to me. Especially Amy’s family and Douglas. They’re good folk, all of them.”

  “Yes, they are.” He patted her hand. It was ice-cold, so he gathered it between his two palms to warm it. Realization hit him hard. He didn’t want her to leave. This new sober, repentant mother was someone he needed to have more of these kinds of talks with. He wanted to hear more stories of his childhood and listen to her laugh. She’d never achieve Mother-of-the-Year status, but now, he had the capacity to help her, not only monetarily, but within his heart. Thanks to Amy.

  “Mom, what would you say about sticking around here a while, going to meetings with Douglas, and getting your feet under you? I bet you could find work easily enough.”

  “That’s sweet of you to say, but I don’t want any handouts. I’m going to take care of myself this time. Besides, I need to see Jake.”

  “If you find yourself wondering what to do after you get straight with Jake, call me. You can come back here.”

  “That would be okay with you?”

  “It would, as long as you stay sober.”

  “I will. I promise you that. No—I promise myself that.”

  Headlights topped the rise leading to Amy’s house. Kellan stood.

  “Mom, do you know if Amy or her sisters are expecting anyone tonight?”

  “Not that they mentioned.”

  As the headlights neared, he made out a black SUV. His first thought was of Morton. Maybe this was one of his goons, there to claim retribution. “You should go inside, Mom. Until I figure out who’s come visiting so late.”

  Standing, she took a last puff of the cigarette before dropping it in a plastic water bottle on the floor. As he debated whether he had time to make a break for the rifle in his truck, the SUV rolled to a stop alongside Kellan’s truck. He leapt over the porch rail to the ground. Two strides into his jog, the SUV door opened. Gasping, Kellan skidded to a stop as his brother stepped out.

  Chapter 19

  “Jake!” their mom shrieked, tearing from the porch, her arms outstretched.

  Jake backed up, his expression flinty, his hands up to stop her from getting any closer than arm’s length. Mom ground to a halt, breathing hard, and hugged herself as she drank in Jake’s face as though searing his image in her mind.

  Jake stuffed his hands in his pants pockets and allowed her to gawk. “Hello, Mother.”

  Clean-shaven, with short brown hair, he was an inch or so shorter than Kellan, but they shared the same dark eyes and broad chin. He’d filled out in the eight years since they’d last seen each other. He wasn’t as brawny as Kellan, whose workouts included digging fence posts and hauling hay bales, but defined with the kind of deliberate muscle one built in a gym. He imagined it was as much a function of Jake’s job as Kellan’s physique was of his.

  Kellan stood still, even though he wanted to rush at him like Mom had and hook him into a bear hug. He wasn’t sure they’d ever hugged. Teenage boys didn’t, that was for sure. Shaking hands would be a good start, but Kellan was afraid to approach him. Like Jake was a wild animal who might flee at the first sudden move.

  He’d seen Jake twice since leaving their foster home sixteen years ago. Not for Jake’s high school graduation—Kellan hadn’t even considered attending, a truth that he’d go to the grave regretting—but first at the ill-fated diner meeting in Texas during Jake’s journey west the summer after his graduation, and again eight years ago, when Jake graduated from the police academy.

  Kellan found out about that one from the foster group home dad, Allen, who’d been invited while Kellan had not. After a lot of debating with himself, he made the trip to L.A. anyway. A bit of pestering of the officers guarding the door got him into the graduation ceremony. Afterward, Jake invited him out with friends to celebrate, only to spend the rest of the night pointedly ignori
ng him. The experience had been awkward and painful, and Kellan had returned to New Mexico in a huff.

  He didn’t want to bust Jake’s balls for arriving unannounced at nine o’clock on Christmas Eve. He didn’t even want to act surprised to see him. He planned to play it cool and somehow coax Jake from where he stood frozen next to his car into the house. “It’s good to see you, Jake.”

  Jake gave his head a frustrated shake and waved dismissively at the car. “I used the phone number you gave me to look up the address, but the GPS didn’t have this area on the map. That’s why I’m here so late at night.” His voice was as deep and resonant as it was on the phone.

  “We would’ve helped you navigate.”

  He scowled, raking his fingers through his hair. “I took a red-eye. But I don’t know what I’m doing here.” Then the hands went back in his pockets, and his shoulders hiked up near his ears. “I didn’t call because . . .”

  Kellan knew exactly why he didn’t call. Same reason Kellan hadn’t called ahead from the road before Jake’s police academy graduation. “Because you wanted the option to change your mind at the last minute.”

  He snorted. “I’m that transparent, huh? When that piece-of-shit GPS choked up, my stubborn streak won out. I was going to find this place or die trying.”

  “I’m glad you did,” Kellan added. And he meant it, too, despite the shock.

  “I am, too.” Mom’s voice hitched. A silent tear traveled along her cheek.

  They all turned at the sound of the front door creaking open. Rachel and Amy. Only Kellan was close enough to hear Rachel’s whisper to Amy. “Who is that?”

  Amy must’ve recognized Jake’s resemblance to Kellan, because she said, “I think it’s Kellan’s brother.” She sounded as amazed as he was.

  Rachel’s whispered tone turned harsh. “You can’t take in any more strays. We don’t have the space and we can’t afford the food to feed them all. You have to learn how to say no.”

  Kellan smiled at that. Amy did seem to collect lost and drifting souls in her orbit, him included, along with his runaway cow, his mother, Douglas Dixon, and Sloane Delgado. Sorentino Farm was turning into a veritable misfit refugee camp. Spending the rest of his life with Amy would mean accepting that tendency of hers. Not a problem.

  “It’s Christmas, Rach. Don’t be such a Scrooge,” Amy countered in a voice that left no room for argument.

  His attention turned to his mother. She was trembling, whether from the cold or the shock of Jake’s sudden appearance, he wasn’t sure. “Mom, let’s get you inside before you freeze to death.” He approached and took her hand in his. Her touch felt less foreign now, more ordinary.

  “But, Jake . . .” she protested.

  “He’s coming inside too.” He looked at his brother.

  Jake gave a terse nod of assent.

  Kellan led Mom up the porch stairs and shared a wide-eyed look of surprise with Amy, a kind of nonverbal Oh my God.

  “Can you take Mom inside?” he asked her. “Jake and I’ll be along in a minute.”

  “Sure.”

  Once Rachel shut the door, Jake and Kellan stood on the porch, looking in through the window at Amy settling their mom on a chair with a quilt and a fresh slice of cheesecake.

  “Which one is yours?” Jake asked.

  It felt amazing, having an answer to that question and knowing inside-and-out that she was his forever. “Curly hair, green sweater.” Which didn’t even begin to describe the woman he’d fallen in love with.

  “What’s her name?”

  “Amy.” Kellan laughed, watching her dab a piece of cheesecake on Rachel’s nose. Rachel’s counterattack nearly upended the sofa and both sisters squealed. “Do you have anyone back home?”

  “Not for a while now. Job makes it tough. Women are all about this hot cop fantasy until they get their nails in you, then they’re bitter about how much time the job sucks up. They don’t want you putting yourself in danger or any shit like that. After the divorce, it happened again and I thought, forget it. I’m done. It’s not worth it.”

  It was the most Kellan had heard Jake talk since they were kids. He tried not to gape. Play it cool, keep him talking.

  “What’s your division and rank now? Last I heard you were SWAT.”

  “Still SWAT. I’m a lieutenant. I don’t see myself changing divisions anytime soon.”

  “You love it?”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “I feel the same way about ranching.”

  “No fooling, huh? I would’ve never guessed that for you.”

  “I’d like you to see my ranch sometime. I’ve got plenty of room.” He hoped he didn’t sound desperate, but like he was making a casual, brotherly suggestion.

  Jake’s cheek twitched. “Yeah, maybe someday.”

  The way he said it, with those arms crossed tightly across his chest and his eyes glued to Amy and her sisters, meant that conversation topic was closed. No harm in breaching the elephant in the room at that point, Kellan figured. “This is the first Christmas we’ve seen each other in sixteen years. I’m glad you’re here.”

  There, he’d said it. Another round of gut-spilling out of the way. Maybe Jake would finally man up and have this long-overdue talk with him.

  “That’s not why I came.”

  Ouch. Jake wasn’t conceding an inch in this conversation. Cue another round of gut-spilling. “All those Christmases you and I missed when you were a teenager, that was my fault. I shouldn’t have left you alone in the system.”

  “No big deal.”

  Kellan ripped his gaze from the window to stare at his brother’s blank face. Like hell it wasn’t. “It’s the biggest regret of my life.”

  But Jake wouldn’t look at him. He shrugged. Shrugged. “The past is the past.”

  Kellan ground his molars together and took a long, slow breath through his nose. There would be no breaching Jake’s walls tonight, but Kellan could take a hint from their mom and AA to apologize anyway, if only to settle it in his own mind and heart. “Maybe so, but all I know is, when I look at those sisters”—he nodded toward the room—“I’m jealous as hell of what they’ve got with each other. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me.”

  Jake’s eyes got shifty, like he was looking to bolt. “No need for that.”

  “I’d like to come visit you sometime soon. I could leave my foreman in charge of the ranch, take a few days off. I haven’t ever taken a vacation before.”

  “L.A.’s a shithole. Don’t take your first vacation there. Go to Aruba. Somewhere tropical.”

  You’re not getting out of it that easily. “I’d like to come visit you,” Kellan pressed. Maybe the female gender was on to something, because the more gut-spilling he did, the easier it got and the better he felt. Especially now that he understood he couldn’t control Jake’s reaction, only his own.

  “Cool, whatever. There are lots of motels I could recommend.”

  It was the same suggestion Kellan had given their mother when she surprised him at church, so he could hardly fault Jake for thinking along those lines. He clapped a hand on Jake’s shoulder. He flinched, then stiffened. “I’m not going to give up on you. Like I’m not going to give up on Mom. I’ve asked her to stay in New Mexico, to get her legs under her. She’s got a friend in town who takes her to meetings, and I know firsthand that Catcher Creek is a solid place to land when a person decides to stop falling. Could be good for her. You should go talk to her right now. Let her apologize to you so she can move on with her steps. It won’t kill you, and it might help her stay sober.”

  He scowled. “Aw, hell . . .”

  “No, now. That’s why you flew out here, isn’t it?”

  Jake went on scowling, but at least he didn’t argue. “What are you going to do if Dad comes around?”

  He hadn’t had time to think about that yet and shrugged. “I don’t know. Talk to him, see what he wants, and do my damnedest to keep him from screwing up Mom’s sobriety.” />
  Jake nodded.

  “Would you like to stay at my house tonight?” Kellan asked.

  “Nah. There’s a motel I passed in town, the Highway Flyer. I’ll stay there.”

  “But you’ll come back here tomorrow for Christmas dinner?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Kellan had pushed hard enough for one night. “Well, if you decide to join us, Amy and her sisters have plenty of room at their table. Amy’s a chef; she’s fixing a prime rib from a steer on my ranch. Beats spending the day in the airport, in my opinion.”

  Jake turned and walked to the porch rail to look at the sky, dismissive like.

  “One more thing, Jake.”

  Jake interrupted him with a dry laugh and a sardonic grin.

  “What?” Kellan asked.

  “You always say that. One more thing. What is it this time?”

  Kellan returned his smile and joined him at the rail. Maybe they were getting somewhere. Finally. “I’m going to marry Amy. Not next month or anything, because we’re not even engaged yet, but someday soon, I hope. I want you to be my best man. Would you do that for me?”

  Jake looked at the stars, squinting. Then his shoulders relaxed. He turned to Kellan and stuck out his hand. “Okay. I can do that.”

  Kellan shook his brother’s hand and tried not to cry. “Thank you.”

  Around eleven, Kellan had reluctantly gone home to tend to his livestock that night and again in the morning. It wasn’t fair to ask his ranch hands to work on Christmas while he took the morning off, he’d explained. He’d touched base with Amy on her cell phone as soon as the sun rose while she was at Jenna’s house, watching Tommy open gifts. She broke it to him as gently as she could that Jake had come and gone, but that he and Tina had taken a walk together and even hugged before Jake took off for the airport.

  Kellan took it well. He was due to arrive that afternoon for Christmas dinner after a brief stop at the Bindermans’ house to deliver Daisy’s and Rowen’s presents. Amy could hardly wait to see him again.

  An hour after he arrived, he and Amy gathered around the longest table in the dining room along with Rachel, Jenna, Tommy, and Tina. Jenna had set out an extra place setting and a candle in memory of their mom, which seemed fitting because Amy knew she was looking down on them from on high, finally happy. Finally at peace.