My Cowboy Freedom

by Z. A. Maxfield

  Chapter 19

  Sky

  When I tried to get up at dawn, Julio sent me back to my bunk. Elena had kept her promise to let me sleep in, which was sweet. I took some generic pain reliever, crawled back into bed, and slept another three hours.

  By the time I did get up, I was in a much better frame of mind to face the day.

  Footsteps coming up to the door woke me. A knock followed. To my surprise, Elena waited outside. “You see? I’m a woman of my word. I got Julio to let you sleep in.”

  “Thanks for that.” Since I was wearing only boxers and a T-shirt and it was still way too early to be flashing folks at the Rocking C, even accidentally, I closed the door halfway. “Excuse me. I’ll be out in a second.”

  “Take your time. It’s going to be a beautiful day. I’ll just have a seat in the shade here for a bit.”

  I dressed and then met her outside. “Did the boss leave instructions for me?”

  “Actually,” she said, “since you were up so late last night, I asked if I could borrow you for the day. I’m taking Rocky to the doctor and I’d like you to come along.”

  Something has changed.

  Either her opinion of me had evolved, or this was some kind of trick.

  I schooled my face. “If that’s where you need me.”

  “It would be a great help.”

  As she explained about the town Doctor and Rock, she made me feel like I was equally important to the wellbeing of the ranch. She could also intimidate me at will, exactly like ‘Nando, and because of that, when she suggested I get a checkup too, it took me a minute to realize she was waiting for me to say something.

  I nodded. “Okay.”

  As we passed by the chicken coop, she scooped a handful of feed out of a plastic bin and began scattering it.

  The chickens flew into a frenzy. They were beautiful, colorful birds with crests and beards. I had a suspicion Rock was responsible for choosing them. Like the coop itself, the plants he grew, and the music he played, Rock’s chickens were just a little bit more colorful than ordinary poultry. I’d have bet my last dime there was a little chicken graveyard somewhere with hand-carved wooden crosses, each with a chicken’s name, carefully lettered on. Probably, none of Rock’s birds had to worry about ending up in a pot.

  There was no sign of Rock, except for the coop itself. Painted a bunch of different bright colors, his little chicken bordello stood out some, just like his birds.

  “This is hilarious,” I pointed out the obvious.

  She smiled her satisfaction. “You surprised me last night.”

  “I did?”

  “You have a knack for helping Rock without him noticing.”

  I shrugged.

  She gave me a stern look. “I was hoping you’d help me out some too.”

  “I will if I can.” I liked Elena. It was her warmth that made the Rocking C feel like home. Her warmth that made things easier for everyone, not just Rock.

  Elena reminded me of the prison shrink, except Mrs. Peterson was an African American woman and a pretty fearsome amateur MMA fighter. Both ladies picked their words carefully.

  “Rocky likes you. It’s hard for him to make friends. I think he believes his physical limitations make him less than a man.”

  I understood how he felt. “It’s hard to go from having everything to having nothing.”

  “He told me you want to go to Bible study?”

  “If it’s convenient.” Inside, they told me to have a routine. A job, a routine, and community. Mrs. Peterson told me I needed to find all three to be successful. If success meant never going back, I was all in. “I’d like that.”

  “Which denomination do you belong to?”

  I’d been raised a Catholic, but that was a nonstarter now. “Anywhere they don’t ask too many questions is fine.”

  “Because you’re gay or because of prison? Or is there something else?”

  My gut clenched. “I—”

  “I’m not judging.” She held her hand up. “And I’m not going to repeat anything you say here, even to Rock.”

  I wasn’t sure I believed her, but what choice did I have? “I attended Bible study every day inside. I guess I’m one of those people who need to hold on to something. I don’t know if you know—”

  “Boss told me about your troubles. I’m so sorry for your family.”

  “Do you remember when the Rocking C used to have something called Cowboy Church?”

  She let her gaze drift past me. “Oh heavens, yes. I remember sitting in the meadow, singing hymns. The family used to celebrate Easter at sunrise with the hands and we’d hide eggs for the kids.”

  My throat tight, I nodded. “I never forgot.”

  “Lots of things changed after Mrs. Chandler left.”

  But we had those good memories. “I read a poem for everyone one Sunday.”

  “Did you?”

  “Something about a brook? Men may come and men may go, but I go on forever . . .”

  She smiled at that. “I need to know what’s happening between you and Rock.”

  Her words made me feel like I’d crashed into a wall.

  “How come?”

  My mind was throwing possible scenarios. Was she accusing? Was she going to say I did something I didn’t? My heart started racing real hard. Was my friendship with—oh God, my attraction to—Rock going to be a deal breaker?

  No fair. No fair.

  I couldn’t be expected to figure on someone like Rock being here.

  On him being so decent when he had every reason to shine me on.

  Elena sighed. “You have inmate face right now.”

  “What do you know about that?”

  “I was married to one an awful lot like it for a while,” She said drily. “Well, to be fair, he was just a kid when I married him. He went to prison later.”

  I nodded. “I’m sorry.”

  “My son did time when he was seventeen years old too. Possession with intent to distribute and resisting arrest. So I’d say I know more about the penal system than I’d like.”

  “Sorry.”

  “That was a long time ago. But you should know I’m no bleeding heart. They put men in prison for a reason. So now you have that on me. Are you worried more about being gay, or an ex-con?”

  “I’m gay and I just got out of prison so I doubt your local church ladies will be lining up to sit next to me.” I looked her right in the eye. “I’m also fully aware it’s not something the Boss approves of.”

  “But you like my boy?”

  Sure, I did. Christ, who wouldn’t? “Your boy is a grown man.”

  She pursed her lips. “I know that.”

  “Look, your godson is—”

  “Did Rock tell you how he came to live here?” she asked.

  I shook my head. “I know about the lightning.”

  “Before I came here to the Rocking C, I worked for Rock’s mother, Cheryl. Well, I worked as a maid in her mother’s house when I was fresh out of high school. It was my first job. Cheryl and I were similar in age and we became friends, in a way. Years later, I went back to work for Cheryl and her husband. Cheryl was unhappy when I left to come here, but it was better pay and benefits and she understood.”

  If I knew nothing else, I knew relationships could be fucked up. I’d seen every variety: healthy and uplifting, yeah, but also unequal, desperate, dependent, and sometimes, downright harmful.

  No maid is friends with her employer. Even if she thinks she is.

  “At any rate, you heard what happened. Rock was a junior in high school when he had his accident.”

  “Lightning splash.”

  “Right. And after that, he—” She turned and leaned against a fence post. “Can I tell you a secret?”

  “Sure.”

  “I d
idn’t like Rocky so much, before.” She scattered a bit more feed. A fat, crested chicken sauntered up to her and pecked the corn at her feet. “He was a spoiled little asshat who never lifted a finger to help anyone but himself.”

  “That don’t sound like Rock.”

  “I know, right?” Her brows lifted comically. “He came out of his ordeal a lot nicer to be around. But he also stopped hiding who he is, and his parents can’t handle that at all.”

  “You knew he was gay?”

  “Of course I did. He didn’t hide things from me, didn’t think he had to. I was only the housekeeper.”

  If there was bitterness to her words, she didn’t appear to taste it still.

  “So they shipped him here to be with you? Out of sight, out of mind?” I hadn’t seen my mom since they arrested me, so I knew how he must feel. “At least they didn’t toss him out on the streets.”

  “They wouldn’t do that. Didn’t Rock tell you anything about his family yet?”

  “Only that it’s big.”

  She nodded at a chicken that looked like it came from a kid’s cartoon. “The chickens are his friends. This one is Lola. She’s an Ameraucauna. Between you and me, he likes the fancy egg-layers. Mam’selle Lola’s eggs are blue.”

  That made me smile as she put her arm through mine, surprising me again with her warmth. Her kindness. “Ask him about his family. If you want to understand what’s happening here, you have to ask Rocky about his dad.”

  I nodded. “Okay.”

  We walked along a ways before I made up my mind to answer the question she’d asked earlier.

  “I like him.”

  “I know.”

  “It’s not about sex.” Her words didn’t imply anything weird, but I wanted to reassure her I wasn’t some horndog.

  “’Course not.” She elbowed me and took off quicker than a woman her age should have been able to. “What with Rock being old and ugly and all. Nobody gonna hit that.”

  “Shi—” I caught the word before I took off after her. “Shoot, Miss Elena. Something tells me you’ve got a wild streak.”

  I didn’t run flat out, so I caught up when we came to the porch door. I nearly careened into Rock, who’d just opened it. He had to put his hands up to stop my momentum. Maisy was right there to glare at me for bumping her boy.

  There was something private in Rock’s eyes when he said, “Whoa, where’s the fire?”

  I found it hard to hold his gaze. “Ask your godmother. She’s the one who took off running.”

  “Peer pressure is no excuse.” With his pale skin, the blush he wore glowed like a wildfire. He lowered his voice to tease me gently, “If my Nina were to jump off a cliff, would you jump too?”

  “Sure, I would.” I’ll bet I was beet-faced just like him. Christ. I am light-years too old for this. “You sleep okay?”

  If anything, his color deepened.

  “Yes. Elena ran?” He smiled shyly and I couldn’t help smiling back.

  Our eyes met and locked and it’s not like I knew exactly what he was thinking and it’s not like he wore his emotions in the open. But I could feel him wanting me.

  He wasn’t naive. He didn’t walk around in a cloud of innocence.

  Not with the way he looked at me.

  But his interest in me wasn’t only about sex. When he saw me, I could tell it pleased him—he reacted to me with enthusiasm, and I . . .

  “Okay. Here’s brunch.” Elena came out of the kitchen with an old-fashioned picnic hamper in one hand and her purse in the other. Rock took the hamper. “Don’t say I never gave you anything. Your appointment is at one. I called Marge and she’ll have Dr. Declan squeeze you in too, Skyler.”

  “How much will it cost?” I had a paper they gave me with the name of a clinic in Austin. I planned to go there when I needed to get tested and shit.

  “Don’t worry about that. The doc gives us a family discount”—Rock nudged Elena, who looked scandalized—“on account of the boss’s entire family is shacking up with him.”

  “How’s that going to help me?”

  “Don’t listen to him.” Elena dug through her purse and came up with her keys. “The ranch has an arrangement with the office. Health check for insurance purposes.”

  She opened the passenger door but before Rock had a chance to get in, she called Maisy to jump up in the passenger seat. “You two get in the back so you can share lunch easier.”

  Rock and I got into the backseat. As soon as we opened the picnic basket Maisy abandoned the front seat and joined us.

  I leaned over and spoke, just for him. “I feel like we’re going to prom.”

  Rock snorted. “I never did that. My thing happened when I was a junior. You?”

  “I went to a Sadie Hawkins once ’cause a girl asked me. She was nice, and I didn’t want her to be sad. I told her I was gay, and we went anyway. She was the first person I ever told.”

  “You ever hear from her? After?”

  “No.”

  While he dug through the basket, I let my head fall against the headrest.

  Elena had included kitchen towels, which we laid out on our laps, in case one of her highly stuffed, highly seasoned breakfast burritos exploded on us. Soon the cab of the truck was fragrant with the scent of onions and cilantro, roasted chicken, and Elena’s rich salsa Colorado—a smoky, spicy red chile sauce.

  “So tell me” Rock leaned over. “The food in prison, what was it like?”

  “Indescribable.”

  “No fair. You gotta give me more than that.”

  “You don’t need nightmares.”

  “I dreamed about you last night.”

  Elena’s eyes flicked to the rearview. Jesus.

  Rock leaned forward and said something to her. She turned the radio on to give us the illusion of privacy. Next to my ear, he whispered, “I dreamed you were riding an ostrich. Have you ever ridden an ostrich?”

  “Can’t say that I have.”

  He took a swig of tea and then capped it. “It’d be pretty bouncy, I’ll bet.”

  Just imagining it hurt my balls. “Probably.”

  “Why do you suppose I dreamed that?”

  “I”—I wiped my hands and mouth with a napkin—“got nothing.”

  Rock shot me a goofy smile and that’s when I noticed his eyelashes were longer than a girl’s.

  Every so often he’d look at me and start laughing and then I’d laugh too. It was so motherfucking undignified. I could only imagine ’Nando’s reaction to my new life at the Rocking C. He’d tell me to sack up and keep my eyes wide open.

  You gotta use your big head, Gorrión. You gotta look out for number one, because nobody else will.

  We chased the food with iced tea and ate homemade chocolate chip cookies for dessert. Again, ’Nando’s words came loud and clear.

  Anything that seems too good to be true probably is.

  “Why do you suppose Elena’s doing this?” I whispered.

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “Every single person at the Rocking C warned me to stay away from you. Now we’re on some kind of date, and you don’t think it’s weird?”

  “It’s not a date.” He laughed. “If we ever go on a date, it won’t be to Bitterroot. Do you have a driver’s license?”

  “Sorry. I had one, but it’s expired.”

  “No problem. You can get one, though, right?” he asked.

  “I need to get either a driver’s license or an ID within thirty days of my release. I was going to talk to the boss about getting a ride into the DPS.”

  “Then maybe, if we ever go on a real date, you can drive.”

  “I guess I could.”

  I didn’t have a car, of course, but we were dreaming there. Making plans the way kids do: Wouldn’t it be cool if . . .
r />   Nobody ever expects those dreams to come true.

  Rock packed the rest of the food away. When he leaned forward to put the basket on the front seat I got a noseful of his aftershave. It was clean and citrusy, and along with the mouthwatering male scent of his skin was starting to drive me crazy.

  “You’re staring at me.”

  I teased him. “You’re pretty.”

  “That’s what’s on your mind. Really?”

  His words made me squirm.

  “I feel like a dumbass, doing this.” I leaned back into my own space. “Look. I did a terrible thing and I served time for it. I’m not proud of that. What prison does—”

  “Tell me.” He forced the answers he wanted with blunt clarity. “Tell me what prison did to you.”

  “I’m not sure I can explain.” I pressed my nose into the skin just behind his ear and got distracted. “You smell really good.”

  His knee bounced nervously. “They say you can get anything in prison. Drugs, alcohol, sex, anything you want.”

  “Yeah.”

  “And?” He lifted an eyebrow. “Did you?”

  I hesitated. “Sure.”

  “Okay.” His lips did that little pursing thing I’d noticed. I notice everything his lips do. “You don’t have to tell me about it or anything.”

  I wasn’t so sure he’d want to know, so I deflected his question with one of my own. “Elena said I should ask about your family. What did she mean by that?”

  “Oh, look.” He glanced past me as if he just noticed we’d made it to town. “We’re almost there.”

  I waited, but he didn’t answer.

  Right. Because I’m the only one with a story to tell.

  Chapter 20

  Rock

  The doc’s office was on the first floor of a beautiful turn-of-the-century house—one of the first built in Bitterroot. Doc Winters’d taken over the practice of Doctor Leon Frazier, and part of that obligation was seeing to the home and its prize-winning garden.

  Marge, his receptionist, nurse, and sergeant-at-arms, was also a legacy of Doc Frazier’s time in Bitterroot. I’d always liked her, but I appreciated any medical practitioner with a light touch. Marge was well-known for her caustic tongue and gentle hands.