A Cowboy for Lynne: Cameron Family Saga

by Shirley Larson

  a cowboy for lynne

  The Cameron Family Saga

  A Cowboy for Lynne

  By Shirley Larson

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to persons living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  The Shakespearean quotes come from Act I, Scene I of the play, Much Ado About Nothing

  Also quoted:

  The Lady of Shallot a poem written in 1832 by Alfred Lord Tennyson

  Cover art by Sweet and Spicy Cover Boutique

  Text copyright c 2015 by Shirley Larson

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored on a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission by the author.

  Published by Shirley Larson

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  I had a dream. It wasn’t a noble dream, but it was my dream. I wanted to be a leading lady on Broadway.

  The odds were against me. I was five feet nine inches tall, thanks to the legacy of my tall father. I told myself my height would work for me. I’d stand out in a crowd.

  I took dance lessons until my knees felt like rubber, I took voice lessons until I thought I could never sing another vocalise, and I worked out until I had the stamina to do any role. All I got were bit parts.

  I was in the chorus of The King and I, and Thoroughly Modern Millie. In The King and I, I was cast as one of the king’s guards and had to stand on stage silent and motionless for twenty minutes. Not fun. In Thoroughly Modern Millie, I was an understudy for one of the Chinese laundry guys. He actually did come down with the flu, so I got to play the part for a month. Other than that, I was a nun in Sister Act and a chimney sweep in the revival of Mary Poppins. It seemed the big break I was praying for was always just out of reach.

  Until Aida.

  I got called to audition for the part of Amneris. The woman who had been playing the role got an offer for a movie. I thought I did well, but two weeks after the audition, I still hadn’t heard anything. I resigned myself to the fact that I wasn’t being considered when the call came. I went out that night and celebrated with my brother Hunter and Liz, his wife. I thought nothing could stop me now.

  Chapter 1

  New York City

  Late February

  11:00 a.m.

  I was frightened. I don’t frighten easily. I was frightened now. Which was why on Sunday morning, I always climbed up to the roof of my building. Some people say they can’t take the city. All that activity makes them nervous. City sounds calm me. They help me remember the world is real.

  Why do I need stay grounded in reality? When you’re in a Broadway show, you forget there’s another world out there. So I come up on my roof to remind myself that there are people in the streets who’ve never heard of Aida. The view, filled with brick and mortar and steel, soothes me. I wasn’t nervous about performing. It was my other problem that sent me to my rooftop. I wanted more than anything else to be free of Richard. He’d snatched away my wonderful life and turned it into a nightmare.

  Behind me, leaves skittered under the iron table and chairs, a cold and lonely sound. I couldn’t stay here, gathering strength. I had to go.

  I’d spoken to my director about Richard, but Sal had brushed it aside. “He’s slightly infatuated with you, yeah, I know. He always picks a leading lady to shower with gifts in hope of getting her into his bed. Tell him you’re not interested. He’ll give up and move on to his next conquest. Just…don’t rock the boat for this show, okay, Lynne?”

  Richard Haines was a major backer of Aida. Therein, as Shakespeare said, lies the rub.

  I said hi to Will, our sixtyish doorman, who sported a handlebar mustache and a bit of a paunch. I waited for his head shake. Yeah, your guy is here.

  Inside my dressing room, Millie, my dresser and stalwart friend, plopped several dozen yellow roses into a crystal vase. How could flowers that were so exquisite make me want to throw up?

  Richard lounged in my recliner, a knee crossed over a leg, a smug smile on his face. He knew I couldn’t throw him out. He was fifty-five years old and standing above him, I could see the patches of his hair transplants. His suit was impeccable Armani gray, his shirt white and his tie sporting flecks of gold. He’d had a manicure in preparation for seeing me, I could smell the nail polish. Everything about him was repulsive to me, but he was so caught up in his egotistical opinion of himself, he thought he was irresistible.

  I went to my dressing table and slammed down my carryall, not even trying to hide my anger. “Richard, I told you not to come into my dressing room before a show. I have to do makeup, braid my hair, get my wig and costume on and then do my prep. You have to go.”

  He gave me that unctuous smile that was supposed to blow all my protests away and show me how adorable he was. “I’ll go…if you promise to have dinner with me.”

  At the thought of facing him across a dinner table I felt a shudder race up my back. “You know I can’t do that. You’re married, Richard. Take your wife out to dinner.”

  At the mention of his wife, he merely smiled. “She’s not as beautiful as you are.”

  “No, but she’s ten times richer.”

  “She is that. That’s why I can never leave her. I’m glad you understand that. It makes things so much easier for us.”

  At this point, I realized there was nothing I could say or do to convince him to give up. But I went on trying. “There is no ‘us,’ Richard. There never has been an ’us’ and there never will be.”

  “You say that but you don’t mean it.” He looked down at his bent knuckles to examine his fingernails, as if the idea was too far beneath him to contemplate.

  Exasperated, I said, “Millie, do I sound like I mean it?”

  Millie stood there with her hands on her hips and an expression on her face that would have frightened any normal person out of his wits. Unfortunately, Richard considered her beneath his notice. “Oh, yes, Miss Lynne, you certainly do.”

  In desperation, I said, “If you don’t go, I won’t be ready in time and I’ll miss my entrance.”

  Miracle of miracles, he stood up. “I can’t have that. Next to being here in private with you, I very much enjoy seeing you on stage.”

  Relief poured through me. “Go then, so I can get ready.”

  “I’ll see you after the show.” He went out and when I thought he was safely away, I said, “Not if I see you first.”

  Millie laughed at the old chestnut and pushed me down on the seat in front of the mirror. She began braiding my long brown hair so it could be tucked out of sight under my wig. Being left alone with her was like having a ten-thousand pound weight lifted off my shoulders. “How did all this start, anyway?” she asked.

  “It started because I’m a stupid, trusting fool. Sal told me Richard and his wife Alisha wanted to have lunch with me at the Ritz. When I got there, it was just Richard. Alisha never came. Instead of getting up and walking out like I should have done, I stayed. At the end of the lunch, I realized my mistake. He told me he’d sat every night in the audience watching me and he knew he loved me. Then he presented me with a white box with a diamond bracelet inside. I snapped the box closed and told him I couldn’t possibly accept it. I didn’t love him and I didn’t want to see
him again.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He said he knew it wasn’t the truth, that he could tell by the way I looked at him that there was something very special between us. Then the bouquets started. Call Joey, will you? Those roses are making me even more nauseous.”

  I had just picked up the loathsome flowers to thrust them out the door when Joey, a young stage hand who might be eighteen, barged in to my dressing room. I said, “I don’t want these flowers. Take them to the handmaidens’ dressing room. Let the girls enjoy them.”

  Joey gave me a startled look. “But Miss Lynne, I was given strict orders by Mr. Haines to make sure they were delivered to your dressing room…”

  I made a shooing motion with my hands. “And you’ve done it. Now just do as I say, Joey. Go, go. Here, take this.” I picked up my purse, extracted a five dollar bill and handed it to him. He grabbed up the bill and the flowers and went.

  “Too bad you can’t get Joey to take Richard to your handmaiden’s dressing room. They could keep him busy for a while. Two of them could hold him down while the other two took their turns on him.” Millie had been around the theater for almost thirty years, and she was well known for her salty talk.

  “Now there’s an idea, Millie. Why didn’t I think of that?”

  “Cause you’re too nice, that’s why. Just don‘t let it go too long before you call the cavalry in.”

  Millie knew all about my powerhouse brothers. We’d spent a lot of time together and I’d mourned for her slightly apathetic husband and she’d mourned my lack of love life. “I’d rather not call them in if I don’t have to. They tend to err on the side of overkill.”

  “Might be just what’s needed in this case. Don’t think because you’re tall and in good shape that Richard isn’t a threat to you. He’s cunning and crazy and that’s a bad combination.”

  Millie helped me into my leotard and tucked the battery pack for my microphone into my bra. Then came the heavy gold lame dress that fastened at the shoulders. She swathed my waist with the jewel encrusted belt and helped me slid the five bangles up past my elbows.

  “You look like a queen. I can see why anybody would want to possess you.”

  Millie had been around the theater for a long time and she‘d seen many leading ladies come and go. This was high praise indeed and just what I needed to get the bitter taste of Richard out of my mouth. “It would be nice if it was a man who wasn’t totally crazy.”

  “You’re looking for a sane man? You dreamer, you.”

  March, a sunny Monday afternoon

  The south pasture of the Rutledge cattle ranch in Florida.

  Jake

  Damn, it was good to be alive. How could a man complain on a morning like this when a transparent blue sky lay overhead, the temperature was a perfect seventy five degrees and my sweet little mare bobbed her head to do a bit of grazing? This was the time of year when I was glad to be a Florida rancher. July? Not so much. To make my day one of the best ever, I’d just succeeded in loading up the feeder calves into the truck headed for Iowa.

  I knew it was too good to last. My sister Leslie, riding that gorgeous burnished Spanish stallion with the flowing black mane and tail I’d made the mistake of giving her last year for her sixteen birthday came dashing over the scrub at way too fast a pace. I’d warned her time and again about watching out for armadillo burrows. One misstep and that stallion would break his leg as well as her fool neck. Of course to seventeen year old Leslie, nothing bad could ever happen to her. Which I was partly to blame for, I guess. Ever since my father died, I’d protected Leslie. Maybe I had over done it. But she was so damn beautiful and cheerful and unafraid, that it was almost impossible to be hard on her. But sometimes I managed it.

  The black stallion’s approach spooked the last calf in line and that stupid critter went tearing off toward a hummock of pine trees, his calf brain telling him he would be safe there.

  I said a nice barnyard word under my breath.

  One look at me and Leslie knew she was in trouble. Her beautiful face wreathed with concern, she said, “Jake, I’m sorry. I really am. I just had to come out and tell you my news…”

  It was tough to play the obdurate father with her, especially these last two years when she‘d blossomed into such a beauty. I reminded myself that was all the more reason to be strict with her. I couldn‘t let her think the world was hers to command just because she was so damn gorgeous. “Which you will do…after you round up that calf you spooked.”

  Leslie gave me the look I knew well, like I was the most unreasonable man in the world, but she reined Black Cloud around and gathered up the rope from where it was wrapped around her saddle horn. By now the calf had stopped running and stood looking around for his bovine buddies. Leslie began swinging the rope in a huge loop. At the approach of her horse, the calf took off running. Her stallion was well trained in the art of calf roping, and he followed that calf like he was tied to its tail. Leslie swung the loop down over the calf’s head smooth as silk. Was there any prettier sight than a young woman mounted on a horse, her black hair blowing in the breeze, her rope slipping neatly around the neck of that red Hereford calf who didn‘t even know he‘d been caught? The critter found out in a hurry when Leslie began dragging him back toward me. He bleated his protest every step of the way, but patiently, as I’d taught her, she kept Black Cloud at a slow walk to bring the calf forward without injuring him. Only after she’d urged the calf in the loading pen did she loosen the rope around his neck. The would-be escapee heard his mates calling to him and scrambled into the truck.

  I waved the truck with its precious cargo away on its journey to a finish lot in Iowa. The price of those calves had already been forwarded to my bank account electronically. I sure as hell didn’t want the number to be short. I’d worked long and hard to gain a reputation as a man whose word was sterling.

  Leslie turned and gave me a triumphant smile. She was as graceful as a young girl on horseback could be. She could also be the biggest pain in my neck. Her beauty drew young swains like flies. Amazingly, Leslie wasn‘t interested in boys. Her life was dedicated to music, the theater, and horses, in that order. However, Leslie riding out in the middle of the day in the Florida sun was not good news. It could only mean she wanted something that she was sure I’d refuse.

  “Well done. Now, what‘s this big news you have?”

  Carefully, Leslie replaced the coiled rope around her saddle horn. She gave that rope all her attention and didn’t look at me. Not a good sign.

  “A bunch of us from the high school cast of Shrek are going to New York to see three Broadway musicals.”

  Damn. My worst nightmare. Leslie, staying in a hotel far away from home in the company of boys she‘d come to know way too well during Shrek rehearsals. “Who’s chaperoning?”

  “Miss Harding and Mr. Winters.”

  I knew those teachers. They were first-years just out of college. They needed chaperones themselves. “There’s the blind leading the blind. How much is it going to cost?”

  “Only five hundred dollars.”

  I could keep her home by refusing to give her the money. “Only five hundred dollars? You’ve got that much money saved up?”

  “I have. You can’t stop me, Jake. Mother gave me permission.”

  I fervently wished my mother had spoken to me first. But Mother knew me well. She knew I‘d never be okay with this. “Your mother would let you ride a rocket to the moon if you asked her.”

  Leslie‘s head came up. I could see that she‘d meant to be calm and reasonable, thinking she had Mom on her side, but now she threw caution to the winds. “This is the chance of a lifetime for me, Jake. You might be the head of this family, but you can’t stop me from going.”

  “No,” I said. “But I can see to it that you are properly chaperoned.”

  “What do you mean, properly chaperoned? Oh no,” Leslie cried as realization dawned on her. “Jake, you wouldn’t do that to me. You can‘t--go with
us.”

  I looked at her with my stone face. “I’m going with you…or you don’t go.”

  In a desperate attempt to change my mind, she said, “It’ll cost you five hundred dollars.”

  “The peace of mind it gives me will be well worth it.”

  Leslie would never whine but she could do pathetically injured quite well. “What about my peace of mind?”

  “You can have peace of mind when you’re eighty. And not before. Now go on back to the house. This subject is closed.”

  A week later when I arrived in the New York, my ears were assaulted with car honks, my eyes were on overload from trying to take in the skyscrapers and, oh, yeah, wait for it, I had to pay over one hundred dollars for the cab ride from the airport to the hotel. Ridiculous. The hotel was nice and best of all, in the theater district. No taxi fares would be needed. We checked in, got our rooms. It was Thursday evening and we arrived too late to take in any shows. Her fellow thespians gathered in Leslie’s room, much to my dismay, and chattered and laughed like a bunch of magpies. My only consolation was that I was there. I commanded lights out at one o’clock and everyone scattered. I got ready for bed, but I knew I wouldn’t sleep much. Light bled through the curtains so I couldn’t get the damn room dark and even though the street noise was muffled by the sound barrier in the room, I knew it was there. I lay in bed looking up at the ceiling and wondered if Dad was in heaven laughing at me. He probably thought I deserved this for all the hell I gave him. “You think this is easy, taking care of your teenage daughter?” And then, “I miss you, Dad. I miss you like hell. I‘ll take good care of her. I promise.”

  Now it was twenty four hours and two Broadway shows later. It seemed like a year to me. The first show wasn’t bad but, because of my lack of sleep the night before, I slept through the second one. Was I having fun? Oh, yeah.

  The only good thing about this trip was that my presence had put a damper on the three boys in the group. Saturday night after the snoozer of a show, Leslie invited all eight kids and their two chaperones to our suite for pizza and soft drinks. Every one of those boys were way too attentive to Leslie. One ran and got her a cola. Another brought her a piece of pizza. The other girls looked at Leslie with daggers in their eyes, while those three boys looked at Leslie like she was chocolate cake at a birthday party. I didn’t like it at all. Thank God there was only one more show the next afternoon before we took the plane back home. We’re going to see Aida, which I understood was a pop version of the opera, written by Elton John and Tim Rice.