by Stuart, Amie
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
EPILOGUE
Amie Stuart … Around the web
Other Books In The Bluebonnet, Texas Series
Other Works By Amie Stuart
Tim Caldwell doesn’t do relationships…
Not after his wife walked out on him and their daughter ten years before. He’s got a well-earned reputation as a Casanova Cowboy who’s never met a woman he couldn’t talk into bed…until Toni duBois. Disinterest isn’t something he’s used to. Neither is playing by someone else’s rules.
Toni duBois doesn’t do forever…
After fifteen years away, Toni’s headed home to Louisiana in search of the answers she needs and the redemption she craves. Then her car breaks down in Bluebonnet, Texas. She doesn’t plan on hanging around Bluebonnet any longer that she has to, and she isn’t interested in a steamy, sexy entanglement. Regardless of how good-looking said entanglement might be.
Rene Caldwell doesn’t do step-moms…
Unfortunately for both them, Tim’s teenage daughter, Rene has opinions. Lots of them. And she’s feeling a certain kind of way about Toni—mostly pissed. So when she pulls out all the stops to keep Toni from getting her hooks into Tim, and Toni’s dark past is revealed, no one is safe from the fallout.
Copyrights
EVEN COWBOYS GET THE BLUES, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
EVEN COWBOYS GET THE BLUES AWAY Copyright © 2017 Amie Stuart
EDITED: DAYNA HART
COVER PHOTOGRAPHY: Lauren Perry – PerryWinkle Photography
FORMATTING by Cassy Roop of Pink Ink Designs
The content of this work is purely created, owned and supplied by the author.
With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from author.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously. The author does acknowledge the trademark status and trademark ownership of all trademarks, service marks and word marks mentioned in this book. The author does not have any control over, and does not assume any responsibility for third-party Web sites or their content.
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This book is dedicated to every mother
who never forgot and to every child who wondered.
Like all the other Bluebonnet books, Tim and Toni’s story took root a long time ago. Like, circa 2004. Finishing it has been a laborious journey—sometimes filled with love and sometimes with hair-pulling. Before you read on, there are some things I think you need to know. My heroine, Toni, is a rape survivor and a birth mother. I, like many women, am a sexual assault survivor, but also, an adoptee. In another lifetime, I was a volunteer adoption searcher and open records advocate, so I can say with great confidence that the topics of adoption, adoptees, birth mothers and searching are … complicated. And that’s putting it mildly.
Needless to say, this book is probably the darkest and yes, weightiest of all the Bluebonnet books—but don’t worry, there’s still a touch of humor. And needless to say, with a past as dark and complicated as Toni’s, I spent a lot of time in the Fall of 2016 second-guessing myself. But the story was set in stone. So much so that when a writer friend asked if I could change Toni’s backstory, I declined without hesitation.
I declined for the very simple reason that everyone deserves a happy ending. Everyone. Including abandoned spouses and their children, and rape survivors, birth mothers and adoptees.
If you’ve read the other books in the series, then you know that Charlene abandoned Tim and Rene. If you haven’t read them, this isn’t a huge spoiler. When I picked the story back up in 2016, I seriously contemplated cutting Rene’s point of view but at the end of the day, I knew that this was as much her story as it was Tim and Toni’s. For that matter, this book is as much about Rene and Toni’s relationship as it is about Tim and Toni’s. Maybe, even a little bit more so because, if I’ve learned nothing else while writing this series, I’ve learned that, romance not withstanding, it’s all about the women.
I did my best. I hope I did it and them justice.
THE TWO-WAY RADIO at Tim’s belt squawked, startling him and the yearling he’d been working with. The rope slipped from his grip, and Sonny, a two-year-old bay who was short on manners, danced away, a grin on his horsy face.
Before he could unhook it from his belt, the radio squawked again.
“Tim Caldwell, answer me!”
“I’m here, Momma.” He licked his lips and then wished he hadn’t. They were coated with dust. Almost July and, true to form, the temperatures in South Central Texas were nudging the century mark.
“The school just called and said you need to come pick up Rene.”
Sonny nudged his elbow as a low groan slipped past his lips. “What now?”
Sixth grade just hadn’t been good for Rene—or vice versa—right up to the last day of the regular school year, when she’d beaten up a girl in gym class. Then to make things worse, she’d failed English and had to make it up in summer school.
His mom’s voice crackled with static. “She started her period and, apparently, raised quite a ruckus. Tim, didn’t you tell her about...you know?”
Oh shit. “I forgot.” He released the ‘talk’ button and sighed, waiting for the verbal explosion about to happen, glad she couldn’t see him shiver from the sudden, clammy sweat.
“Timothy Patrick,” she screeched. “That child was scared out of her wits!”
Tim winced, knowing full well he deserved the scolding and probably an ass kicking. Telling Rene about the facts of life was something he’d put off. Like getting his teeth cleaned or doing his taxes. Determined to do the right thing, he’d read the book his aunt had given him, and then stood outside his daughter’s bedroom door, only to chicken out, scared he’d flub it. Ask him about horse breeding, and he could talk a body’s ear off. For that matter, Rene probably could, too. But horses didn’t have to deal with hormones and temper tantrums and teenage boys.
Not for the first time, he cursed his ex-wife for abandoning them, even while the mean, angry side of him was glad she was in prison. He hadn’t asked to take this on by himself.
“They thought,” his mom continued, “that under the circumstances, she could just take the rest of the day off.”
“How bad was it?” He unsnapped Sonny’s lead and opened the gate separating the small work arena from Sonny’s favorite pasture. Sonny took off to play with his friends, kicking up his heels and a cloud of dust.
Tim smothered a twinge of envy and a cough while listening to his mom’s reply.
“They didn’t say…exactly, but Principal Skinner specifically asked for you.”
Janie Skinner had it out for him, firmly con
vinced he had no business raising a little girl by himself but more than willing to help if he’d let her.
But at twelve, Rene was no longer a little girl. Obviously.
“Alright. Lemme get cleaned up. Would you call Skinner back and tell her I’ll be there in about forty-five minutes?”
Forty minutes and one stop at the grocery store later, he pulled up in front of Bluebonnet Elementary and slid out from behind the wheel of his dusty pickup. As he made his way up the shallow steps, he noticed Skinner lying in wait for him just inside the double doors.
Rene’d started her period, for Christ sake, not tried to burn the school down.
“Morning, Tim.” Despite her conservative attire of khakis, an oxford shirt, and a snug ponytail, her smile was almost flirtatious as she held the door open for him.
There was no doubt in his mind if he’d gone out with her, she would have eased up on Rene—but he had his principles. No pun intended. Besides, summer school ended in one more week. Then came middle school, where the principal was a man—and one of his dad’s poker buddies.
Relief was in sight.
“Janie,” he replied, unable to fake a grin. But he’d be damned if he’d let her know just how much she irked him.
Her own smile faded.
As the heavy steel door clanked shut behind him, the familiar scents of overcooked green beans, chalk dust and age assaulted his nostrils. He removed his ballcap and spun on his heels to face Rene’s nemesis. “Where is she?”
“In the nurse’s office.”
He nodded, but before he could take a step, she held up a finger. “I’d like to speak with you in my office first, Tim.”
“Fine.”
In her office he’d folded his six-foot-three frame into a spindly wooden chair and silently endured a lecture that included everyone’s favorite mantra, ‘Rene needs a mother’. He had no defense, and he knew it, so he chose to keep his mouth shut. Words would have sounded half-assed anyway. He’d failed his daughter—and not for the first time. But there was a reason they called marriage an institution, and not even for Rene would he go through that again.
Lucky for him the uncomfortable chair held up better than his temper, especially after Skinner’s parting shot about talking to Rene before she ended up pregnant.
One more week.
Two doors down the short hall, he found Rene lying on a cot in the nurse’s office. “Nurse Handy, I’m here to take Rene home.”
“Hi, Dad.” Rene sat up, pushed her wavy hair off her face and looked at him, her expression unreadable. Tim was discovering that at twelve, that was pretty standard. She had his pale blue eyes and dark hair but her mother’s freckles and erratic temperament. God help him.
“Rene, get to feeling better, honey,” the kindly old nurse said with a smile.
“Yes, ma’am.” Rene silently slipped past him and out the door, leaving her backpack for him to grab. With a sigh, he watched her go. Always a little quiet, over the last year she’d turned sullen and snarky on him.
“Thank you, ma’am,” he said with a nod, trying to juggle the overstuffed backpack and his ballcap while fishing his keys out of his pocket. It looked like they’d included a week’s worth of homework instead of two days. “And tell Bob I said ‘hey’.”
“Will do. Bye, Tim.” She smiled, her soft, wrinkled face creasing with the effort.
Tim hurried after Rene, who stood waiting for him at the school’s double doors, an unreadable expression on her face. Was she mad at him? Embarrassed? In pain? And how much did cramps really hurt? Looks like he’d find out. He held each door for her as they exited the building, the warm summer day a direct contrast to both their moods. Except for the windbreaker tied around her slim hips, she didn’t seem any the worse for wear. “I stopped at the store and got you some stuff.”
“What stuff?”
“Pads. Midol. That kind of stuff.” He unlocked the truck and reached for the passenger door.
She came to a halt and turned to face him, her cheeks pink. “You bought me pads?” From the horrified look on her face and tone of her voice you would have thought he’d bought her a dress or canned spinach—neither of which she liked.
“I didn’t figure you’d feel like stopping on the way home. Your Aunt Delaney told me what to get.”
“Is she home?” Rene’s pale blue eyes lit up at the mention of her brand-spanking new Aunt Delaney. Despite his seventeen-year-old half-sister’s grief over her own mother’s recent death and the challenge of living with strangers, she’d allowed Rene to shadow her. To the point where he almost felt sorry for her.
“No, honey,” he said, circling the truck. “Her and your grandfather were on their way to the doctor.” Therapy. Which, surprisingly, had been his dad’s idea. He’d refused to choose between the daughter he’d never known and his wife. Therapy, he’d said, was his way of clearing the air and starting fresh with the both of them.
“Oh.”
Before pulling out of the school’s circular drive, Tim paused and looked over at Rene, who sat hunched down in her seat. Speaking of clearing the air. “You wanna talk about it?”
“About what?” she snapped. Her face turned bright red, and she kept her eyes glued on the dashboard in front of her.
He’d embarrassed her. Shit. He pushed forward anyway, Skinner’s words ringing in his ears. “What happened?”
“Do you want a blow-by-blow of how I made a total ass of myself and scared a bunch of little fourth graders? Damn, Dad.”
“Don’t swear at me, young lady,” he huffed.
“Can we please just go home?”
Jaw clenched, he silently drove home. He’d blown it again. He was two for two, and it wasn’t even suppertime yet.
Inside the house, Tim dumped Rene’s backpack on the cluttered bench by the door and sighed as she slipped past him, the windbreaker still secured around her waist. “Get cleaned up and we’ll talk.”
“About?” She paused on the stairs, her back to him.
He swallowed the lump in his throat and choked out the word, “Sex.”
“That’s something you know a lot about,” she mumbled just loudly enough for him to hear. She sprinted the rest of the way up the stairs; the bag containing the feminine products he’d purchased for her rattled in her hand.
Midol. Maybe that’s what’d been wrong with her lately. She had permanent PMS. How the hell was he going to explain the perils of love and sex to a twelve-year-old? With a sigh, he sent up a silent prayer his ex-wife was spending lots of time in solitary confinement, praying to her newfound God. He hadn’t responded to any of Charlene’s letters, but the urge to break his four-month silence and tell her just what he thought of her for running out on them nine years ago had never been more overwhelming.
Footsteps on the porch pulled him back to the present, and he swung the front door open to face his mother. Maggie Boudreaux’s usually tidy auburn hair looked as if she’d forgotten to brush it, and her emerald green eyes were bloodshot. Her pale skin only accentuated the red of her nose. She’d been crying—again.
“Did you get her settled in?”
“We just walked in the door, Momma.”
Her face hardened and she said, “Don’t snap at me, Timothy!”
He swallowed his angry retort and flashed her his best smile, letting the tension ease from his shoulders. This wasn’t the time. He stepped out onto the porch and wrapped his arms around her sturdy frame. He stood there, rocking her, the woman who’d been his mother since he was five and never treated him any differently than her three biological sons. After a few minutes, she pushed him away and mopped at her face with tissues dug from her pocket. Momma always had tissues. “Do you want me to talk to Rene?”
“No, Momma. It’s my job.” And he couldn’t botch it like he had the last time.
“Are you sure? I don’t mind.”
He leaned down and planted a soft kiss on her forehead. “I’m positive. Is there anything I can do for you?”
“Momma,” he soothed, tucking her hair behind her ears, “it’s just stress. Everyone’s tense. I know it’s only June, but we’ve had one hell of a year already.”
Mopping at her face, she chuckled through her tears. “Kind of like that movie. A wedding, a divorce and a funeral. What next?”
“Apparently, a period,” he added with a soft laugh.
“Tim.” She shook her head, a real smile twitching at her lips. “Oh look, there’s your dad and Delaney. I hope therapy went okay.” They stood arm in arm, watching the midnight-blue Suburban ease up the dirt and gravel road. “I’d better get. I love you, baby.”
“Love you, too, Mom.”
Time to deal with Rene.
Tim climbed the stairs, pausing halfway up to give himself a pep talk. He could do this. He could handle it, and he wouldn’t blow it. Somehow.
At her door, he quietly cleared his throat then knocked.
“What?”
“You decent?”
“Yeah.”
He opened the door and leaned his head in. She sat cross-legged on the bed, now dressed in shorts and a dingy white T-shirt.
“Can I go see Aunt Delaney?” She didn’t bother looking at him, just kept her eyes focused on the far wall.
“Not right now.” He crossed the room and settled on her double bed. The pink eyelet spread and canopy didn’t suit his tomboy daughter any more than it did him. He should have noticed sooner. “We need to talk.”
“Nurse Handy already gave me this talk, Daddy.”
He sighed and leaned forward on his knees, his back to her. He could charm any woman into his bed, a bird from a tree, a smile from his orneriest filly, but Rene always managed to make him feel inferior and awkward. And if he was honest—helpless. The sooner he said the words, the sooner he could escape, so Tim opted for the offensive. “You do realize what having a period means?”
