“Over my dead body will that man ever get on another bull. Anyway, Colby has an attachment to that stuff and he won’t sell it outright, so we wondered if Cash might be interested in teaching some of these boys how to ride bulls. Since Cash is one of the few who wouldn’t feed them full of crap about how great it is chasing the rodeo dream. And he was a good rider. The bonus is they are willing to pay. Good money, I guess.”
“Really?”
“Really. There isn’t a true rodeo school around here, and I think these boys would like a taste of it before they pony up any money and head off to California or Florida or Texas for one of the real schools.”
Gemma began to pace. How could she keep Cash away from an opportunity like that? She’d been watching him with Macie and he had more patience than she’d imagined. He would be a great teacher.
“Gemma?”
“Yeah, sorry. So you’d want him there at the McKay place teachin’ these kids?”
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“Hell no. I want the bull ridin’ paraphernalia as far away from Colby as I can get it. I thought maybe since you have an extra empty barn and extra corrals that we could give—
lend—the equipment to you, and Cash could set it up there. Then we could start funneling kids his direction.”
“I can’t speak for Cash, but I’m sure he’d consider it. You want me to talk to him?”
“That’s the other thing.” Channing’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Colby doesn’t know I’m calling you. He wanted to talk to Cash about it first before we contacted you.
Some stupid male pride thing. But since the Bar 9 is your ranch, I figured you should be the first to know. I didn’t want you to be caught off guard.”
“I appreciate it.”
“Plus, if you do say yes, Colby and I will personally deliver the equipment, and we’ll need a place to stay, so you will get to see me. And then we can drink whiskey into the wee hours, and you can tell me all about the hot monkey sex you’re having with that very sexy Indian man.”
Gemma laughed. “For that, I’m all in. When would you be comin’ by?”
“Next week at the earliest.”
“Let me know when to get the guest room ready.”
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Chapter Twenty
“Dad. I’m never gonna get this.”
“Yes, you will.”
“No. I suck. See? I totally missed again.”
“It just takes practice.” He peered at the unmarked orange circle. “I think live targets would’ve been easier. I know I’m a better shot with them.”
Macie gave him a sardonic look. “Shot a lot of people, have you?”
“Just a man in Reno. Just to watch him die.”
Macie laughed. “Came by your name honestly, didn’t you?”
“Yep.” Cash grinned. He loved the sound of her laughter. “Come on. You can do this, honey-girl. Try again.” He watched as she lifted the gun. He studied her form and her stance. Her aim. She jerked her arm before she pulled the trigger and the bullet went high into the field behind the hay bale.
“See?”
“Yep. I know what you’re doin’ wrong.” He stood behind her as she flipped the safety back on and kept the gun pointed at the target. Then his arms came around her and he repositioned her slightly. “Keep your elbows loose. Like this. Straight-armin’ it is makin’ you flinch at the last second, which is jerkin’ the muzzle higher, which is why you’re seein’ puffs of dust behind the bale, instead of makin’ holes in the target. Try again. Look through the sights. Keep your eye on that center dot. This time, don’t think about it, just empty the clip.”
Macie inhaled a deep breath. She flicked the safety off. Moved her finger from the barrel to the trigger and pulled in rapid succession: pop pop pop pop pop—followed by an empty click as the slide kicked back. Methodically she thumbed the safety, ejected the empty magazine into her palm and lowered the gun by her thigh.
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Just like he’d taught her. Might’ve been silly, but Cash had a proud parent moment.
He hadn’t been around to experience many of them in Macie’s life, so he swore he’d soak up even the littlest ones whenever given the chance.
She ran up to the target, whooped and turned around to beam at him. “I hit two!
Dead center.”
“I see that.”
“Can we shoot some more?”
“As much as you want.”
“Cool.” Her eyes danced. “What other guns do you have hidden in your truck?
Rifles? Shotguns? Bazookas?”
“Settle down, Annie Oakley.”
“But I want to shoot something besides this little plinker.”
“The Walther P22 is plenty for you to handle right now.” Cash scratched his chin.
“Although, next time I might let you try the Colt revolver. It’s heavier, with a little more kick, but since you’re shootin’ high, you might have better luck with something that weighs more.”
Macie opened the box of bullets and started loading clips. “How do you know so much about guns?”
“Been around them all my life. Wasn’t a lot to do for fun on the rez. My tunkasila used to take me shootin’ when I was a kid.”
“What’s that word mean?”
“Grandfather.”
“You don’t speak Lakota very often.”
“Don’t remember a whole helluva lot. It’s a use it or lose it thing. I never spoke it fluently anyway, though I mostly understood what my tunkasila said to me. ’Course, purposely misunderstandin’ him or my unci, my grandmother, worked to my advantage on occasion too.”
“Know what sucks? I don’t know anything about your—our—family. Mom didn’t tell me stuff like that.”
“I know you don’t wanna believe it, but that’s probably a good thing you don’t know nothin’ about that side.”
“Why not?”
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“It ain’t pretty and it ain’t happy.”
Slide click slide click echoed as she slipped bullets in the steel clip. “So? I still deserve to know. And I’m gonna be a total pain in the butt until you talk to me about it.”
Cash directed his gaze away from her. “Macie, it ain’t like the Big Crow family has anything to be proud of in recent years. We’re not like some of them families, keepin’
with Lakota traditions. Talkin’ ’bout our glorious past. I never much cared about my Indian heritage.”
“Why’s that?”
“There’s so much wrong I don’t even know where to start.”
“Start with your parents.”
When he hesitated, she used a sad, doe-eyed look that would net her anything she wanted. He’d’ve been putty if she’d done that as a little girl.
“Please?”
“Fine. My mom died from alcohol poisoning when I was nine. My dad ended up in the state pen long before that.”
“Then where’d you live when you were growin’ up?”
“With my mom’s parents until I lit out on my own.” Right after he found out about Jorgen’s pregnancy. There was a proud moment in his life, running from his responsibilities.
“What happened to your dad when he got out of jail?”
“Died in a drunk drivin’ accident.”
Thick, uncomfortable silence weighted the air.
“So you’re like me, basically alone?”
“Basically. Why?”
“I guess I’d always heard Indians had big families. You don’t have brothers or sisters, aunts, uncles and a billion cousins?”
“I only have one brother, Levon. And he’s repeatin’ the family history.”
“How so?”
“He’s in the pen on narcotics charges. Long story.”
I don’t want to tell you now. Or ever.
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Cash sighed. “Long story short: I felt sorry for him after his wife kicked him out, so while I was off rodeoin’, I let him live on the ranch our grandparents deeded to me.
Stupid son of a bitch was makin’ meth in the barn. So when the DEA caught him, the state of South Dakota confiscated the ranch and sold it at auction to pay legal fees, and the hazardous waste clean up bill, and the back property taxes. Nothin’ I could do. I lost the only thing that was ever really mine.”
“I had no idea.” She studied his face. “When did that happen?”
“Four years ago.” Cash finally found the guts to look at his daughter. Comprehension dawned in her big brown eyes, before those same beautiful, wise eyes filled with tears.
Shit. He’d never dealt well with tears.
“Oh Dad. That was right around the time mom died, wasn’t it?”
He nodded.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you had enough shit to deal with, Macie, without me addin’ to it. I’ve never given you anything—”
Macie threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and sobbed like her heart was breaking.
Cash held her tightly, offering her comfort she’d never sought from him. Soothing her. Holding her. His child. Feeling like a total selfish prick because on some level, he was happy, happy, that she’d turned to him for something.
Macie’s cries slowed to the occasional hiccupping stutter. Still she didn’t release her grip on him. He had the good sense not to let go of her either.
Finally he murmured, “Better, honey-girl?”
“No. I hate this. I’ve always hated it.”
Cash’s stomach plummeted to the toes of his cowboy boots. “Hate what? Me?”
“No, I hate that I don’t know you. Hate that it’s so goddamn awkward to get to know you. I want everything to be butterflies and rainbows in my life, just once. I want us to finally make that connection and be, I don’t know, like a real family. Instead of polite strangers.”
She started crying again and this time, he cried silently right along with her. Holding the best mistake he’d ever made.
“You probably think I’m a bawl baby, huh?” she asked after a time.
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“No.”
“What then?”
“I never thought I’d be so happy to be wearin’ your tears on my shirt.” He squeezed her hard and kissed the top of her head. “We’re gonna make this work, Macie. We’re gonna be a family, ’cause Lord knows, we both need one.”
She nodded against his chest. Still making no move to leave him.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“Why didn’t you ever get married and have another family?”
That question surprised him for the second time. “I guess I never found a woman who would put up with me.”
“I’m serious.”
“I am too. I’m set in my ways, Macie.”
“My way or the highway, huh?”
“Yep.”
“But what about when you were younger? Before you got so set in your ways?”
“I figured there was no rush. That I’d have plenty of time to settle down when I was older.” Cash didn’t want to muddy the waters and discuss his relationship with Gemma and all that he wanted from her now that he’d found a woman who would put up with his wicked ways. “The same holds true for you too. You’re young. I’m sure there are things you wanna do. Travel. See the world.”
Macie snorted.
“What?”
“My mom was the gypsy type, not me.”
Cash leaned back to look at her. “You want to settle down?”
“Maybe.”
“Here?”
“Maybe.”
He kept his tone casual. “With Carter McKay?”
“No. I like it here because you’re here, Dad. But if you’re talking about me and him?
I don’t know. Probably wouldn’t work anyway.”
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Cash wanted to tell her it probably wouldn’t and encourage her to nip the relationship in the bud. But he bit his tongue and listened.
“He and I are so different. He’s smart.”
“So are you. You passed your GED when you were fourteen.”
“Hah. He’s got a Masters of Fine Art.”
“So?”
“That’s not all. He has ties to the land and to his family and I don’t know what that’s like.”
“Is he messin’ with your head? Tellin’ you what you have and what you’ve accomplished in your life isn’t good enough? Makin’ promises that you know he ain’t gonna keep?”
Her eyes narrowed and he recognized that challenging look: He’d seen it staring back at him in the mirror. It gave him a spark of pride that she did have something of him in her after all.
“Can I talk to you about this? Rationally? Or are you gonna run off half-cocked?”
Cash grimaced and pointed to the four clips on the tailgate. “Half-cocked? I’m fully loaded.”
“Dad!”
“Kiddin’. I ain’t gonna shoot him.” Yet. “Go on.”
“It’s like he runs hot and cold. He treats me like I’m everything and then the next day, it’s like I don’t exist.”
“He’s an idiot.”
“Yeah.” She smiled and wiped the tears from her face. “Never mind. I’m babbling.
It’s my stupid hormones.”
“When you realize it ain’t you, and it is his fault for how he’s makin’ you feel—”
“I’ll keep it to myself.”
Cash opened his mouth. Shut it.
“But thanks. So when we’re done cleaning up, you want to come and try a piece of caramel apple pie?”
“With whipped cream?”
“I don’t have any in the camper.”
“Gemma has some in the fridge. I’ll grab it and be right back.”
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Shooting guns and having pie with his daughter. It was turning out to be a damn fine day.
Three hours later Cash’s cell phone rang while he filled water tanks in the south pasture.
“Yeah?”
“Cash? It’s Colby McKay.”
“Colby, you old dog. How’s it goin’?”
“Good. You?”
“Good. How’s Channing?”
“As beautiful and docile as ever.”
“That’ll be the day. She’s got you pussy whipped.”
“True, but I ain’t complainin’.”
“She wouldn’t let you. So, what’s up?”
“You ever thought about teachin’ bull ridin’?”
Talk about from out of left field. But he and Colby never had time for small talk.
“No, but you’ve caught my interest.” He listened as Colby gave him a brief rundown.
“Sure. I’ll take a crack at it. I probably oughta clear it with Gem first. But I don’t see it bein’ a problem with her. Those boys interested in anything else? Bronc or bareback ridin’? ’Cause she has some rough stock she’d like to test out.”
“I’m sure them boys would love anything you throw at ’em.”
“Our kinda kids, eh?”
“Yep. Though, I don’t think they make ’em as tough as us anymore.”
“We always thought we were way tougher than we actually were.”
“No lie there. We’ll see you next week sometime. I’ll give you a jingle before we head your way.”
“You ain’t comin’ here to take home your brother Carter, by chance?�
��
“Carter? No. Why? He causin’ problems?”
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“If that boy breaks my daughter’s heart, I’ll be sendin’ him home to the McKay Ranch in a casket.”
“You have a daughter?”
“Yeah.”
“Shit. Sounds like we have a lot of catchin’ up to do, Cash.”
“And some splittin’ up to do. I’m inclined to start with his fool head.”
“Hang tight. If I pass along what you just said, the whole McKay family will be there in two hours with horses and ropes—not necessarily for him. So, I’m gonna ask you not to kill him just yet.”
“Fair enough, but no guarantees.”
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Chapter Twenty-one
“Cash? You want another beer?”
He’d been sitting in the darkened living room for over an hour. He shoved aside his thoughts about his conversation with Macie and focused on Gemma. “Nah. I’m good.”
“You’re pretty quiet tonight. Everything okay?”
“Actually, everything would be great if you’d come over here and give me a little sugar.”
“Yeah?” She sauntered over and plopped herself on his lap. “I was beginning to feel neglected.” She kissed his throat. “Lonely.” She kissed his chin. “Horny.” She kissed his mouth in that sexy teasing way that gave him an instant erection. “Very, very horny.”
“I’ve heard about you horny widow types. Always thinkin’ ’bout…”
“About what?”
“You tell me, horny Widow Jansen. What’s that gleam in your eye mean for me tonight?”
“It’s so damn dark in here I’m surprised you can even see my eyes.”
“Shee. It’s my Indian scout night vision. Wait. I’m getting something else from that vision. I’m sensin’ you want to—” he let his tongue dip into her ear, “—blow me.”
“You are good. Let’s go upstairs where I can spread you out on the bed and work you over real good.”
“I’m comfy right here.”
“But—”
“What’s the rule about arguin’ with me?”
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