Rugged and Restless

by Saylor Bliss

  A plush dark towel slung around my hips, I was using another to dry my hair while I contemplated the insanity of having stayed up all night. My bed now looked mighty appealing.

  I slid open the dresser drawer and grabbed a pair of dark briefs, pausing when I saw the folder. With one trembling finger, I traced the upper edge. The bold black lines of the capital A on the tab sliced through my conscience like hot wires. I squeezed my eyes shut against the onslaught of thoughts and emotions, I preferred to keep buried.

  I popped them open again, making myself dizzy as the colors around me swirled into focus. Damn it! What had I done by getting involved with Christine? It felt a little like… cheating.

  I picked up the folder and opened it, swallowing past the thickness lodged in my throat. Pages and pages of my own handwriting were clipped together. Notations of leads which hadn’t panned out; her name, given to me by one of her sympathetic coworkers —Jackie Hollow. Beneath all that, more pages of handwritten notes, the details I remembered of all our conversations, written when I’d been unable to walk, just so I’d have something to hold onto when I’d realized she wasn’t coming to the hospital. I shuffled through them once again, those well-worn sheets of yellow paper.

  I’d fallen in love with her, asked her to marry me. Yet I had nothing tangible of her. I’d needed her, but she hadn’t been there as she had promised. She’d completely disappeared, almost like she’d never existed. The guys had teased me for months about hallucinating, until I’d gotten more careful and sly about looking for her.

  And now… Christine made me want to throw it all away. Seven years of searching for someone who must not want to be found. Who was I cheating on if she’d left me first?

  “Christine,” I whispered. I was cheating Christine, if I moved forward with her before letting go of the past I still struggled with.

  “You and your brother square things up?” Dad’s gravelly voice came from the doorway.

  I jumped. “Stop my heart first next time, will ya?”

  Reason told me I hadn’t been doing anything wrong, but I stuffed the papers back in the folder, then shoved the whole mess back into the dresser and slid the drawer closed.

  Throughout my life, my father’s commanding presence had filled every room he entered. Some things never change, even after a heart attack, so I was glad when Dad made himself comfortable, sitting in the chair by the window. It lessened the effect ever so slightly.

  “I want to talk to you. I know that brother of yours probably warned you to keep me out of it.” He snickers. “Thinks I’ll live longer if I don’t get upset.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Can this wait until I’m wearing pants?”

  “We can talk while you get dressed.”

  I stared. My father shot a pointed look at the towel. “What? You got something under there you didn’t have when I was changing your diapers?”

  “A few more inches,” I muttered under my breath, pissed at the invasion of my personal space. I averted my stance, hoping dad enjoyed the view of my ass, and stepped into my briefs then hauled on a pair of well-worn blue jeans with holes in the knees.

  Justin ran a critical eye over my outfit of choice. “You know, they sell pretty decent jeans downtown for less than twenty bucks. Lot less holes.”

  “Yeah, but these are my favorite.” I shove my wallet into the only pocket without a gaping hole. “I’m just breaking them in.”

  He shakes his head. “Looks more like you’re breaking out of ‘em, but whatever floats your boat.” After taking a deep breath, and releasing it out slowly, he changes the subject. “I figure your brother caught you up on some things.”

  I fastened the button on my shirt sleeve without looking up. “What he told me, was you had a heart attack and wouldn’t let him call me.”

  “Wasn’t any point. It was over as soon as it started. I wasn’t in the mood for any deathbed nonsense.”

  I forced my gaze up, taking in the weathered skin on his face, the deep lines etched into the corners of his eyes. The shadows beneath those eyes. “I could’ve helped. I still can. We can get this place back on its feet.”

  Dad flashes a crooked grin. “I wasn’t aware it was completely off its feet.”

  “I can help get it back to where it was before—”

  “You know Grant’s gotten into boarding some horses?”

  The smooth change of subject was so typical of my father that I didn’t lose the beat. “It’s always been horses for him. He’s got a solid plan. We have the space, and the extra income it generates will help.” I pulled my wristwatch into place.

  “I agree,” he says in an agreeable tone. Too agreeable. “But let’s not say anything to your brother just yet. You know, your pretty young lady’s the one who got him thinking about boarding. She bought that colt at auction last summer. Turns out he’s so crazy no stable would keep him.”

  “No stable should keep him.” I shudder at the memory of snapping teeth. “Including this one. Christine shouldn’t even have him.”

  “You plan on telling her that, I want to be there to see it.” He cut loose with a hoarse chuckle. “Thing is, the colt will do anything for that girl. Grant’s been helping her train him, but she’s got horses in her blood, herself, and that colt loves her.” Dad’s expression softens. “She reminds me some of your mother.”

  Just great. So he saw it, too. I could already see the matchmaking gleam in his eyes. Never mind any potential interest I might have in that direction myself, I need no help from my daddy on that score. So I shrug. “I don’t know. I’ve only just met her.”

  His pointed glance told me he still understood a great deal about what made his sons tick, even the one who’d just returned home after years of being absent. “You won’t find a better match. She won’t take your crap.”

  “My—” I let out a long slow breath, relaxed the hands I discovered I’d balled into fists. No, not getting drawn into a conversation I couldn’t win.

  Dad went silent and closed his eyes. Good. I considered leaving the room but experience told me we hadn’t gotten to the heart of the conversation yet. So I waited it out.

  As usual.

  “I don’t suppose your brother got ‘round to telling you the real problem here.” his voice bordered between heightened concern and outright worry.

  I shook my head. “Baby steps with him. Gotta take baby steps. I hurt him —hurt you both —when I left.”

  “You did what you had to do, son.” He said. “Right now we got some problems a mite harder to deal with than simple cash flow. I know you went to the range yesterday with your girl. You’re too smart not to have noticed the absence of cattle.”

  Finally. The answers I’d been looking for. “I noticed. What happened?”

  “Grant planned to open up more range farther west,” he said. “He was going to expand by about five hundred head to start. He was talking about going modern, bringing in a helicopter, like a couple of the outfits out of Laramie. We’ve had a couple good years. He made some good investments. Bank was all set to loan him the rest of the stake he needed.”

  A half-hour and many words later, I found my world rocked off its axis. And not in a good way.

  More than a hundred head of cattle, slaughtered by high-powered rifle shot. Before that, a series of little things which might have been accidents or a run of bad luck, but when pieced together, they looked less like random events and more like well-thought-out malicious acts.

  “When did all this happen?”

  “April. Right after we moved the herd up there. Grant had a couple of hands up there watching the rest of the herd, but a few more cows got picked off and he brought the whole lot down off the mountain. Couldn’t risk more cattle, or worse, the lives of his men.”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose, then drew a hand down my face, stopping at my jaw, while I considered the impact of my father’s words. “Geez, Dad. I should never have taken Christine up there.”

  “You’re right. It should
have been the three of us riding up there, with you knowing what you were riding into.”

  “And whose fault was that?”

  “Mine.” Dad sighed. “It’s mine. I wouldn’t let your brother call you when things started happening.”

  My gaze flashed to my father, for the first time seeing a hint of defeat in the tired green eyes. His anger evaporated.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for,” He says flatly, returning my gaze.

  “No, Dad, I do.” I blow out a long breath, realizing the choices I’d had to make sixteen years earlier would never sit easy with me. “I left for good reasons and I’d do it again. But I left a man and a young boy to run a family business I was part of. I stayed away too long, came back, started giving orders and taking over without earning—what?” I asked when he began chuckling.

  The chuckle became a full-out laugh. “I remember your grandmother saying something along those lines once in regard to me. When I started trying to tell my dad what was what after one year at college.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Travis

  The answers were finally trickling in. But, with every one answer came two more questions. It was like being on a perpetual and very irritating quest.

  I turned onto the deserted highway, shifting quickly through the gears. The raw power of the car thrummed into my feet, pulsed through the steering wheel into my hands. I downshifted once and rounded a curve. The highway would lead straight on to town, so I opened my baby up. It wasn’t quite the same as having a horse underneath me, but it was a close second.

  Close second? How many times had I settled for a close second over the last decade and a half? Memories of Christine astride the horse next to me, as we’d raced across the plain the day before, sent heat spiraling through me, followed quickly by a dousing of ice water. Too many times. Way too many.

  Shoving aside the unsavory thought, I began instead to play around with the idea that had stirred while talking with my father. Something that expanded on Grant’s concept of modernizing to increase the herd, but also involved giving Grant his own niche with the horses he loved.

  “Grant’s not afraid of failing, Travis. He knows the business and he’s got a head for it. He’s afraid of not measuring up to what you might be expecting from him.” Father’s last cryptic disclosure wasn’t sitting well.

  So would Grant see the benefit of my proposal or would he only see his older brother trying to take over? I’d have to tread carefully. The hell with it. Grant would have to get used to me being home, being part of the Hawk MC. And we’d either learn to work together, or kill each other.

  I stabbed the hands-free button on my cell and dialed L.A.

  “Hey, Trav! Have you gone cowboy on us yet?” asked the deep voice on the other end.

  I felt the grin splitting my face at the sound of my best friend’s voice. “Missing me yet, Dan?”

  “Only taking most of your paycheck at the Friday night poker game.”

  “Ah, I don’t miss that.” I took a deep breath then dove in. “I’m not coming back.”

  Dan chuckled. “Yeah, I figured. I want out myself. Got any openings in Cowville for a hotshot helicopter pilot?”

  “Maybe,” I said. “Have you ever considered herding cattle by helicopter?” The outskirts of Pine Haven loomed —as much as a sprawl of one-and two-story buildings could loom —as I finished outlining my proposition to a very interested Dan Griffin, EMS helicopter pilot.

  “So, what about prospects for female companionship?” asked my old pal.

  Christine’s face floated into my thoughts. I affected my thickest accent. “I can probably rustle you up an invite to the Sunday church social to meet our one-eyed, bucktoothed schoolmarm.”

  “My dream girl.” Dan chuckled. “I’ll start packing tomorrow.”

  “Pool drying up out there, buddy?”

  “Not exactly. I went on a blind date with an actress last week. And she’s not averse to going out again. Of course, it’s kind of like dating a box of rocks without a lid, but she’s not hard on the eyes.”

  I snickered. “I’m sure you can figure out what to do with her rocks.”

  “I’m sure I will.” Dan sighed heavily. “Travis, I don’t know how to—” Another puff of air sounded over the phone. “Look, Cara got her start in Community Theater.”

  The back of my neck heated up. “And?”

  “And she remembers a girl she used to work with, when she first started out. Said she had a beauty of a singing voice, was a good actress but not serious about it. And she left L.A. very suddenly some years ago in the middle of a production. Cara thinks she went back east to her family.”

  Braking to a stop in front of the sheriff’s office, I forced myself to keep breathing. “Okay, I see you still like to bury the lead.”

  “I’m sorry,” Dan apologized quickly. “I wasn’t sure if you were still looking. I’ve seen what the dead ends do to you, man.”

  Memories of drunken nights and morning-after hangovers, with Dan doing the male equivalent of hair-holding played in my mind like an old movie reel. “Not my finest moments.”

  “So I didn’t know what to do with the information.” Dan’s voice was heavy. “Do you want me to dig further? Are we still looking for this girl?”

  “I…” I hesitated. Was I still looking? The dead ends were exhausting as well as heartbreaking, but as clues went this was the most solid they had come up with in a long time. I thought about Christine. The woman in the flesh and now. I was definitely falling hard for her. The sun flashed off a passing lumber truck, inciting an answering sparkle from the crystal angel hanging on his mirror, reminding me there were things left unsaid.

  The truck rumbled past and was gone.

  “Trav?”

  I inhaled, blew out forcefully. “Yeah, sure, go ahead,” I said in a rush. It couldn’t hurt to ask around, could it?

  After severing the phone connection, I began to rethink my decision.

  The angel swayed gently on her cord in front of me, mocking my indecision. I watched her until she was still again. A dream forged in loneliness and desperation. A dream, which had been about hope, survival and beating the odds.

  My eyes drifted to the passenger seat where Christine had sat just the day before. Vibrant, alive, happy. She hadn’t even been on my radar before that mountain road. And now… even though she wasn’t physically seated next to me at that moment, she was real. She was a tangible presence in my life, not the dream that the angel dangling from my mirror represented.

  I reached up and yanked the angel until the cord snapped. I held her in the palm of my hand for a moment, ran my thumb over her face in a gentle caress.

  “Parting is sorrow, darlin’, but there’s nothing sweet about it. Whatever your reasons for not being there, wherever you are now, I sure hope you’re well and happy.”

  My decision made, I leaned over, opened the glove compartment, and dropped the angel inside, with a feeling akin to adding the last period on a shift report. The slam of the little door echoed through the car. I considered calling Dan back and telling him to drop the hunt, then shrugged. As with all the other leads, nothing was likely to come of it anyway.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Christine

  Sissy finished clearing the table from the last lunch customer and picked up a tray of beer mugs. “Whooee! That was a bigger-than-normal lunch crowd.”

  It certainly had been. But why? I shrugged. What did it matter? Business was business. “If it keeps up, I’ll see if I can find someone part-time for lunches.”

  Balancing the bus tray on the end of the bar, Sissy popped open the dishwasher and added the mugs. When she looked up at me again, she wore a speculative expression. “How did your day out with Travis McGee go?”

  “It had some interesting twists.” I tilted her head and surveyed her friend. “Speaking of twists, did I miss the part of the story where you told me the prodigal son was Gran
t’s brother?”

  Sissy smiled and shrugged. “Did I forget to mention that? Huh.”

  I huffed an impatient breath. “Sissy, what’s the real story there? With Bull and Travis?”

  Shaking her head, Sissy looked away, her eyes clouded with doubt. “I can’t answer that.”

  “Can’t or won’t?” I asked, irritation sharpening her tone.

  Sissy shoved the tray further onto the bar. Drawing a deep breath, she whirled to face me and settled her hands on her hips. “Can’t. Because it’s not mine to tell. Besides, I don’t know all the details. The families haven’t gotten along since Grant and I were kids. Travis left when I was twelve and Grant thirteen. I knew Grant was upset, but he wouldn’t talk about it, and my mom told me Travis went to college. Then, the next year I left Pine Haven myself. By the time I got back, things were different between me and Grant. He doesn’t tell me so much now.” Fine lines pinched Sissy’s forehead, and she didn't quite meet my eyes.

  Obviously something deep was happening, something my friend found troubling. A twinge of remorse for having pushed her spurred me forward. “I’m sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable.” I picked up the bus tray and sighed. “I’m just a little spooked, I guess. I know something is going on, but the town seems pretty closed up about it.”

  Like a switch had been pulled, Sissy’s smile flashed with a grin. “You know who you should ask, don’t you? If you want the whole truth, you need to ask Travis himself.”

  That couldn’t be disputed. But how would Travis react to direct questioning about an obviously sore subject?

  “We probably won’t get anyone in before dinnertime now,” said Sissy, tapping the end of the bar. “I’m going on break so I can run to the bank.”

  The breath stalled in my throat, and fine tremors overtook my hands. I stuffed them in the pockets of my long pink sweater. It would be okay. Besides, Charlotte Hains was just on the other side of the silver kitchen doors, prepping for dinner. The cook would have my back, with the sturdy baseball bat she kept behind the door.