One Good Favor

by J. L. Langley

  Gus snorted, but didn’t move back. He nuzzled Evan’s chest, nipping at the pocket.

  Evan sighed. His horse thought he was a lap dog.

  Grabbing Gus’s halter, Evan maneuvered his head out of the way and continued to unwrap the candy.

  Butting his head back in, Gus snagged the Reese’s package out of Evan’s pocket.

  “Hey, that’s mine.” Evan snatched the chocolate back and held out the peppermints in his palm. “This is yours.”

  Gus lipped the candy out of his palm and began crunching it loudly.

  Evan patted the horse’s neck then unwrapped his own candy. He peeled the paper off one cup and ate it. Leaving the other one in the wrapper, he put it back in his pocket and grabbed his Coke. He needed a place to sit down. There should be a stool somewhere in the stable. Ah, there at the end of the row. He pointed his finger at Gus, “stay here,” and headed down to the silver stool, half visible around the corner of the end stall.

  As Evan reached for the stool, it moved.

  A brown boot stepped into view. “Hey, cocksucker.”

  Evan jerked his head up.

  Jeff Benson tossed the metal seat to the side, away from the glossy white cinderblock wall, as Dodger Craig and Brett Lahr walked around the corner.

  Shit.

  “What? You not gonna say anything?” Jeff spat a stream of snuff-laced saliva right beside Evan’s foot.

  Jerking his boot back, Evan scowled up at the bull rider. What the hell was the S.O.B. up to? He’d hardly done more than glare at Evan the whole time they’d known one another. Damn, this must be about Evan calling him an asshole at the bar. Well then so be it, ‘cause Evan wasn’t apologizing. Jeff had been rude first. “What do you want, Benson?”

  Dodger laughed. “We want your sorry faggot ass out of here, that’s what we want. There’s no place for faggots around here. Rodeo is for real men.”

  Brett nodded his agreement.

  Jeff spat again. “And take your creepy assed wall-eyed horse with you.”

  It looked like they were cruising for a fight. Damn it all to hell, Evan wished Mark was here to back him up. His stomach knotted up a little at the thought of getting his ass kicked, but he sure as shit wasn’t backing down. Evan could hold his own, but he doubted he had much of a chance with all three of them. “I don’t think so.” Evan fisted his hands and balanced his weight. “You do whatever the hell you think it is you have to do, but I’m not going anywhere. I have as much a right to be here as the three of you…so you can kiss my ass.” Hey, if he was getting his ass kicked anyway, he was certainly gonna let them know what he thought of the situation.

  Benson jerked back like he’d been slapped. Then he actually hesitated, clearly stunned by Evan’s boldness. “Damn, you got a mouth on you. When are you gonna learn? You don’t talk to your betters like that, queer.”

  Fury built up inside Evan. Really, it shouldn’t have, he knew lots of people thought they were better than him or that something was wrong with him because he was gay, but he was tired and on the irritable side. Not to mention he still smelled like beer where this asshole had spilt his drink earlier. Evan hauled back his arm and popped Benson right in the nose. Blood flew, splattering the front of Benson’s blue plaid shirt and part of the stall wall next to them.

  Benson’s hat fell off as he stumbled backward.

  Lahr and Craig caught him, pushing him back upright.

  Evan wasn’t stupid, he didn’t give them time to recover, much less think. He waded in, fists flying.

  Cowboy hats littered the concrete floor and blood covered Evan’s knuckles. He got in several good punches to all three of them, before Lahr and Craig grabbed his arms and held him.

  “You fucking fag.” Benson wiped blood from his chin, then hauled off and punched Evan right in the gut.

  The air left Evan’s body in a whoosh. It was like falling off a horse and landing flat on your back. His lungs seized up, refusing to let air in as Evan doubled over…or rather tried to. He couldn’t move much with Brett and Dodger holding him. His black felt hat fell to the ground in front of him and Jeff kicked it aside. Evan heard the cowboys laugh but it sounded like they were in a well. Damn he hurt.

  Benson didn’t give him any time to recover before he popped Evan with an uppercut to the chin.

  Everything went black for a few seconds and nausea clawed its way up Evan’s belly into his throat. Benson just kept coming at him, fists flying as the others held him up. They laughed, calling out for Benson to hit him again.

  Evan lost track of how many times the bull rider punched him, he concentrated on staying conscious.

  A loud staccato of rapid clacking sounded behind them and Lahr, or was it Craig, yelped and dropped Evan’s arm.

  “What the—” Benson’s eyes widened.

  Angry horse sounds came from behind them, then the other cowboy hollered. Evan’s other arm was freed and he began to fall. He tried to brace himself, but an arm slid around his waist, keeping him from hitting the cement. Slowly, he was lowered to the ground. He looked up into a pair of pale blue eyes, set in a handsome, tanned face, then everything went black.

  Chapter Five

  God, his head hurt. What the hell happened? He hadn’t drunk that much last night.

  “Evan? Evan, can you hear me? Are you awake?”

  Evan recognized the deep voice, but he couldn’t place it. Where had he heard if from? It was low, deep and almost comforting, if it weren’t for the urgency.

  Something warm caressed Evan’s cheek. Then the sexy voice said. “Come on, Evan. Open your eyes so I know you’re okay.”

  Peeling his eyelids open with what felt like Herculean effort, Evan gazed up into pale blue eyes. Amazing. Evan blinked, getting his eyes to come into focus. The rest of the man’s face was just as spectacular as his eyes. His short black hair, long narrow nose, almond-shaped eyes, high cheekbones and flawless tanned skin attested loud and clear to the man’s Native American heritage, but those eyes… “Who are you?” Evan’s voice was rusty and barely there, but it sounded awed, even to his own ears. Ouch. Speaking also made his head hurt worse.

  One side of the man’s slim lips turned up. “How are you feeling?” He brushed back Evan’s hair, his touch lingering.

  “Like shit.” Evan stared for several seconds. The man was…well for lack of a better word, hot. Then it dawned on him. This was his cowboy. He wasn’t wearing the familiar gray hat, but this was him.

  His cowboy lowered the rail on Evan’s bed, captured Evan’s hand and took a seat next to him. He wore a red western shirt that looked familiar. Why did the shirt look familiar? The last Evan had seen him he’d been wearing a green shirt, not red. Evan glanced around and spotted the gray felt hat on the chair across the room. Wait! Brett Lahr had been wearing a red shirt. Shit! Evan’s memory rushed back to him, he’d been in a fight. This man must have helped him. Wait! He was in a bed. Evan glanced around. He was in a hospital room, not the stables.

  “Shh…” He rubbed the back of Evan’s hand, then brought it to his lips and kissed it. He whispered something. It sounded like “You’re okay, love,” but Evan had to be hearing things. He didn’t know the guy that well. He wanted to but… They’d only had sex in the back of a bar.

  Evan’s attention drifted upward and caught the pale eyes watching him. God, the man had beautiful eyes. They were the same color as Gu— “Gus!” Evan started to get up, managing to get his shoulder off the bed, before a wave of dizziness overcame him. His head felt like it weighed two tons and hurt like a son of a bitch, but he had to go back to the stables. What if—

  “Relax.” The man let go of his hand and pushed his shoulders back to the bed. His face was just inches from Evan’s, his hands pinning Evan to the bed. “Your horse is fine.” His breath smelled like peppermints.

  Evan’s breath caught. Even as badly as he ached, his cock was threatening to harden. Was this incredibly sexy man always going to affect him like this? “Are you sure? I left h
is stall door—”

  “I saw to him myself. Everything is fine, other than those assholes deciding you’d make a good punching bag.”

  So he had been in the stables and came to Evan’s aid. “You helped me.”

  Sitting up, he smoothed Evan’s wrinkled forehead with his fingers and dipped his chin.

  Evan hadn’t seen him, he was sure of it. The last few days he looked for this man everywhere he went, hoping to see him again. Evan must have been out of it when his savior intervened. “Thank you, but I wish you hadn’t brought me here. I don’t have the money to—”

  “It’s taken care of.”

  Evan started shaking his head.

  “You are in no condition to argue.” His cowboy grinned unrepentantly and arched a brow, daring Evan to argue further.

  He was too tired to argue this right now, so Evan gave in. “How long have I been here?”

  “We’ve been here for several hours and this is the first time you’ve been coherent enough to make sense. You took a hell of a hit to the head. You’re probably not going to remember this when you wake next time. You don’t recall waking up last time, do you?

  Wow. He’d woken up before? He didn’t remember. “What’s your name?”

  Before he could answer, a petite woman with red hair in a pair of navy scrubs and a white lab coat opened the door. She smiled when she saw Evan. “Ah, looks like you are awake again. Can you answer some questions for me, Mr. Marshall?” She didn’t wait for an answer, but instead pulled out a flashlight and proceeded to blind Evan.

  Blue Eyes squeezed his hand.

  Evan yawned, and wished he hadn’t. His head throbbed something fierce and the penlight piercing his skull wasn’t helping matters.

  Finally the doctor put her light up and asked him all sorts of questions, what day it was, who the president was? It seemed sort of silly, but Evan answered her without hesitation. Apparently, from what he gathered, he hadn’t answered her correctly when she’d asked earlier in the evening. Funny, he didn’t remember her or being asked questions.

  “Can I have something for this headache?”

  “Sure, I’ll send the nurse in with some Tylenol. We don’t want you having anything too strong. You can sleep, but we want to make sure we can wake you up. Are you still nauseous?”

  He’d been nauseous? Evan yawned again and shook his head. “No.” He was just tired.

  Cowboy asked the doctor a question, but Evan didn’t pay attention, he was feeling very drowsy all of a sudden. He closed his eyes and listened to the soothing, sensual tones of his rescuer’s voice. A man could get lost in that voice. It had sounded like heaven whispering naughty things in the heat of passion.

  “Evan?”

  Mark? Evan blinked his eyes open, he must have dozed off. Sunlight streamed into the window across the room, silhouetting Mark.

  “Hey buddy.” Mark came forward, holding his hat in his hands. His brown hair was mussed and he had stubble on his cheeks. He looked like he hadn’t slept. “You okay? Tracy Wade called me. He rooms with Brett Lahr and said Brett came in pretty banged up, talking about how they jumped you in the stables. I checked the stables and went back to the motel looking for you. I just happened to drive by here and see your truck in the parking lot. Did you drive yourself?”

  Evan blinked, squinting his eyes against the light. “No. I—my truck is here?” The man from the bar must have driven his tru—. Evan glanced around the room. A hollow, sinking feeling settled in Evan stomach. He was gone.

  “Who’s Aaron?”

  “What?” Evan turned his attention to his header.

  “Someone named Aaron checked you in.”

  Evan frowned. That was a damned good question. “The cowboy from the bar.”

  Chapter Six

  Damn it. He had to get his head out of his ass and back in the rodeo. He’d been cleared to ride and Mark had driven them to the next stop on the circuit. They needed the prize money. And to get it, they had to qualify and ride this time since Evan missed the last rodeo due to that concussion. Of course, he still had the money in his account from buying Gus because apparently Adam Two Spirits hadn’t cashed the check, but Evan wasn’t going to count on that money. He needed to call Two Spirits Ranch again. Hopefully, he could get a hold of Adam this time.

  Evan pulled the curry comb across Gus’s shiny black coat, trying to get his head in the right space for roping instead of looking for Aaron. “I tell you, Gus, I’d wonder if he was all in my head if Mark hadn’t seen him at the bars, too. He always disappears before I can talk to him. There is just something about him…”

  Gus leaned into the combing, like a giant cat, forcing Evan to push at him.

  “Not only did he save my ass, but he apparently stuck around to make certain I was all right.” And because of that, Evan had a name. Aaron. Fat lot of good it did him though. “Why would he do that? Now I’m positive it was him that night in the bar.” Mark was convinced he was a stalker.

  Evan argued he didn’t fit the bill. Stalkers didn’t rescue their stalkee, then disappear. And he had disappeared. Evan hadn’t seen him at any of the local bars he’d dragged Mark to last night. He’d even stayed and watched most of the qualifying rounds to all the other events today just to watch for Aaron.

  “Umm, Evan?”

  Evan jerked his attention toward the open stall door.

  Tracy Wade stood there, his black hat in one hand, his rope in the other. His reddish brown hair was mussed and the leather on one hip of his black chaps was dusty. A yellow riding glove stuck out of the pocket of his red, white and blue shirt under his open black riding vest. He must have just ridden. Evan didn’t pay much attention to the bull riders. Well, no, that wasn’t entirely true, they made good fantasy material, but they hated his ass, so…

  Tracy glanced around the stables. “Can I t-talk to you for a minute?” Tracy shifted forward, leaning in and making his spurs clink. Sweat dripped down his right temple onto the hay-covered floor.

  Odd, he didn’t remember hearing Tracy had a stutter. Maybe it was just nerves. And well, if Tracy were nervous… Evan looked around too. It was fairly busy, but no one paid them any mind. Tracy had never spoken to him before. Not that Evan expected Tracy was gonna cause problems. From all accounts, it wasn’t Tracy’s style, but it still made Evan a little leery. “Sure. What’s up?” He motioned with the curry comb for the other man to come closer.

  Clearing his throat, Tracy stepped closer and put his hat on his head, pulling it low over his eyes. “I, uh, well—” Tracy held out his hand. “Guess I should introduce myself f-first, yeah? Rude of me. S-sorry.” He spoke with slight drawl. East Texas? Louisiana? He also had a crooked grin that was cute as hell. It gave him a boyish look, even with the stubble on his cheeks. No, not boyish, that wasn’t the right word…mischievous.

  Evan, unable to help himself, grinned back and put the comb in his other hand to shake Tracy’s.

  Tracy had a nice firm grip, big hands, slim fingers. “Tracy Wade. I’m a friend of Mark’s, well more D-doreen’s actually, but I know your header, too.”

  “Yeah, I know. Nice to meet you officially. Thanks for calling Mark last week and letting him know where to find me.”

  “Welcome.” Nodding, Tracy took his hand back and gestured toward Evan’s face. The bell on his bull rope clanked faintly. “You, uh, doing okay?”

  Evan touched his cheek, the bruise was still healing, but he didn’t quite have a black eye anymore. “Yeah, I’m good.”

  “G-good, good. Man, I just wanted to tell you, I had nothing to do with that.” Tracy rubbed his empty hand down the back of his leg where his chaps met his jeans. “The guys have never done anything like that before. I—” He shook his head. “I’m sorry man. I h-heard them mouthing off, but I didn’t think they were serious. If I’d ’ve known—”

  Well damn, Evan felt bad watching the kid squirm. “‘s alright. Heck, I appreciate you just letting Mark know where to find me.”

  Tracy
nodded. “You b-bet. Least I could do after I found out. I didn’t actually know you were in the hospital, I just felt like I had to let someone know what Brett had said when he came in. Brett rooms with me on the road.” Frowning, he cast his gaze to the ground. “Makes me reconsider the arrangement now.” He added softly.

  Evan wasn’t sure what to say. The thing was, if Tracy’s buddies even caught him talking to Evan, they’d likely lay into him. Evan glanced around again. Maybe he should get the guy outta here. But he really wanted to know what Lahr said. Maybe Tracy had heard what happened after Evan blacked out? What if he knew something about Aaron? “Would you like to get something to eat or—ow! Gus, get off my foot!” Evan shoved at his horse.

  Gus flipped his head up as he stepped off Evan’s foot. He swished his tail, smacking Evan’s side with it.

  Thank God for boots. It still didn’t feel all that great, but it could have been worse, he supposed. He rested his hands on Gus’s back and shook his foot out. “You big oaf.”

  Gus snorted and jerked his head around, nipping at Evan.

  “I’d heard he was a character. Doreen and Mark talk about him and his antics all the time.” Tracy chuckled. “I hear he has a thing for cell phones.”

  Evan groaned and tossed the curry comb on top of the bag he carried his gear in. “Speaking of, I need to go buy a new one. You wanna see if we can find a cell phone store? I’ll buy you dinner.”

  “Sure.” Tracy smiled.

  Gus cocked his head and his ears shifted backwards, dropping close to his head. He eyeballed Evan as if to say, “I’ll kill that one, too.”

  Evan sighed and pointed at his phone-hating horse. “You even look at my new phone, I’ll…” He glanced up at a laughing Tracy and shook his head. “Cool. Let me just get my stuff and lock him in here.” Evan turned to grab his bag.

  “He sure is pretty.” Tracy’s stutter seemed to have disappeared. Maybe it was just nerves at first.

  After cleaning the curry comb out and tossing the hair in the corner of the stall, Evan hefted the strap up onto his shoulder and turned.