Cowboy Take Me Away (Rough Riders #16)

by Lorelei James

Wait. Where was here? Where was she?

  And why couldn’t she see anything?

  Wake up, wake up, wake up. You’re in a dream.

  But her eyes wouldn’t open.

  Come back to me. Please.

  Come back…from this dream?

  She listened but couldn’t hear his voice.

  Carson?

  A loud click echoed.

  Was that the sound of a door closing? Where was it coming from?

  Carolyn followed the sound and floated down the pathways of her mind. Doors of all sizes loomed before her.

  One of these doors had to lead back to her current reality. She shouldn’t have retreated when they started jamming tubes in her nose and throat. But it was loud and painful—surely she wasn’t dead if she could still feel pain?—and she’d hidden in the shadows of her mind.

  But now, the deeper into her mind she traveled, the lighter it’d become.

  So many doors.

  Then she noticed one door was ajar.

  Maybe it was the exit? Could she escape her subconscious?

  The door made no noise when she opened it.

  She found herself in her mother’s bedroom, sucked back in time to early summer the year she’d graduated from high school.

  The morning after the night she’d met Carson McKay…

  “Don’t hover in the doorway, child, come in.” Her mother scooted over and patted the bed. “Sit. Tell me about the dance last night.”

  Carolyn settled on the twin bed and reached for her mother’s hand. The arthritis had gotten so bad in the last couple of years her fingers were claw-like and almost useless. It killed her to see her mother bedridden, to see the listlessness in her eyes from the amount of medicine she took to deal with the pain.

  But her stoic mother wouldn’t complain.

  “Liebchen,” she said softly. “Talk to me.”

  Liebchen. Her mother had always called Carolyn her little sweetheart—it was one of the few German words her mother still used.

  She forced a smile. “Beverly took off with Michael about half an hour after we got there.”

  Her mother clucked her tongue. “That girl is fast. Michael will get what he wants from her and move on.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. He leaves for basic training at the end of the summer and as soon as he’s done they’re getting married.”

  “Ach. She’s too young.” She shifted on the bed. “Did Beverly introduce you to anyone?”

  The image of Carson McKay’s perfect face flashed in her mind and she felt her cheeks heat. His good looks aside, he was so much…more than the boys she’d gone to school with. The only trace of boyishness in him was in that dimpled smile and the devilry twinkling in his dark blue eyes. The rest of him was all man—wide shoulders, broad chest, strong arms, rough-skinned hands. An earthy mix of sun and soil and soap emanated from him; an irresistible musk that tempted her to rest her face in the crook of his neck and just breathe him in.

  “You did meet someone.”

  Carolyn blushed.

  “What’s his name?”

  “Carson. He’s a little sure of himself, but that’s probably because he’s so good-looking.”

  “Did he ask to see you again?”

  She finally met her mother’s gaze. “Yes. But I kind of ran off after…”

  Her mother’s brown eyes sharpened. “Did he try something with you?”

  “No. We were outside just talking—” you’ll go to hell for lying, “—and someone shouted to get his attention. That’s when I learned his last name is McKay.”

  Silence.

  Carolyn looked down as she traced the frayed ends of the yarn ties holding the eyelet and satin quilt together.

  The air seemed to stretch so thin she had a hard time breathing. Finally, she blurted, “But don’t worry. I’ll stay away from him.”

  “He knows…?”

  “That my father is Elijah West? Yes.”

  “How were things between you before you learned each other’s last names?”

  She smiled, remembering the man’s audacity. “Carson told me he was gonna marry me.”

  Her mother raised both eyebrows. “You mean he asked to marry you?”

  “No. He said I was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen and we oughta skip all the dating stuff and get married.” She suspected he’d only been half kidding. Although Carson had seemed ready to run when she’d told him she was eighteen. But that kiss, that glorious kiss had changed his mind.

  It’d changed everything.

  She’d kissed a few boys over the years. Even if she’d made out with a hundred guys nothing could’ve prepared her for kissing a man like Carson McKay. Nothing. Carson was heat and passion. When he’d pressed his hard body against hers? She finally understood Beverly’s claim about need overtaking reason.

  “Liebchen.”

  Carolyn’s head snapped up guiltily. “Sorry. I know—”

  “I think you’d like to get to know him better.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Nonsense.”

  Shocked, she stammered, “B-but—”

  “Whatever is between your father and Carson’s father is their issue. Not yours. Not Carson’s. You’re an adult. You’re allowed to make your own decisions. If you want to spend time with Carson? That is your business.”

  “And what happens when Dad finds out? He might kick me out.”

  “I won’t let that happen. I promise.”

  Her mother had never stood up to her father. If Carolyn pursued something with Carson McKay she’d be totally on her own, with no support.

  Like that’d be anything new.

  Carolyn managed a fake smile. “I’ve found some patterns I’d like your opinion on.”

  “Clothes for you?”

  “Yes.”

  “New clothes you can wear on your dates with Carson McKay?” her mom asked with a sly smile.

  “Mom. Give it up.”

  “Never. Now show me what you’re working with.”

  Late Saturday afternoon, Marshall, Stuart and Thomas, Carolyn’s three brothers who still lived at home, traipsed into the kitchen.

  “I love it when you’re home for the summer,” Thomas said, sniffing the air. “We get decent meals for a change.”

  Marshall and Stuart each punched him in the arm.

  “Ouch! I’m only telling the truth.”

  “Truth is, you can’t cook worth shit, Thomas, so it’s worse for us when it’s your night to cook.” Marshall lifted the lid on the pot on the stove. “Sausage and cabbage smells good, sis.”

  “It’s done. Wash up and we’ll eat.”

  Stuart sidled up beside her. “Has Mom eaten yet?”

  “She was hungry earlier so I sat with her while she ate. She’s resting.”

  He squeezed her shoulders. “Thanks.”

  “Does she ever come to the table?”

  “Nope. She eats in her room or she doesn’t eat. That’s her choice, not ours.”

  Marshall snatched two slices of bread off the cutting board. “Ma especially doesn’t eat when Thomas cooks.”

  “I told you guys I’d rather be on dish duty every night. But that is another bonus of having our sister home. She cooks and cleans up.”

  None of them disputed Thomas’s statement. As much as she loved her brothers, the instant she’d stepped foot in the house, they’d abandoned their regular duties and she’d become cook, cleaner, gardener, laundress and parental caretaker.

  Carolyn took her usual seat at the table and looked at each of her brothers until they set down their utensils and bowed their heads in prayer. “Thank you, Lord, for the bounty you’ve given us. Amen.”

  After they crossed themselves and a chorus of amens, they dug in.

  She
dished herself a plate. “Where is Dad, anyway?”

  “At Harland’s.”

  Their oldest brother and his wife Sonia lived on the small parcel of land that used to be the West Ranch. Since her father had no interest in ranching—he’d worked in the coal mine in Gillette her entire life—he’d passed the land on to his oldest son as soon as Harland was of age.

  Supper was a fairly silent affair as her brothers were too busy stuffing their faces to bother with conversation.

  Thomas pushed his plate away first. “Good meal, sis.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  He grinned and said, “Thanks. So, got any plans for tonight?”

  “Nothing after doing the dishes. Why?”

  “There’s a ballgame in Hulett. I’m meeting my buddy Randy there and then we talked about hitting Dusty’s afterward. Guess there’s a decent band tonight.”

  “Randy…is he your short friend with the big mouth?”

  Thomas snorted. “That’s Andy. Randy went to college on a partial baseball scholarship. He’s home for the summer. He’d really like to meet you.”

  Since she’d lived in Montana the last six school years, she’d only stayed in contact with Beverly and she didn’t know Thomas’s friends. “I’ll go as long as you promise you won’t ditch me.”

  “I almost wish I was goin’ along tonight,” Marshall said. “But I’ll probably be heading to work about the time you two roll in.”

  “Sneak in,” Stuart corrected. “Even when Dad will be pretty drunk after bein’ with Harland, you don’t want him to know what time you got home.”

  “Not a problem for me since I’m sleeping in the sun porch. I can climb through the window,” Carolyn said. Sleeping in the sun porch didn’t bother her. The small space had been tacked on the back of the house as an afterthought, and the poor insulation meant the room stayed cool at night.

  “How long will it take you to get ready?” Thomas asked.

  Her gaze swept the plates and pots and pans. “Half an hour to do the dishes and fifteen minutes to change.”

  “Leave the dishes tonight. I’ll help you do them in the morning.”

  Carolyn snapped him with a dishtowel. “Now I know you’re meeting a girl if you make that promise to get me moving.”

  Thomas blushed. “Just go get ready.”

  She styled her hair in long blonde waves. She slipped on a sleeveless plain white button-up blouse and added a snug-fitting baby blue cardigan. Feeling daring, she tugged on the pair of blue jeans her friend Cathy had given her. Cathy’s wealthy grandparents lived in Chicago and owned a clothing company so Cathy had scads of fashionable clothing that she loved to share.

  A quick brush of powder, thick black eyeliner and a couple of passes of mascara made her eyes look more dramatic. She finished off with a coat of red lipstick.

  She tucked her money, lipstick and ID in her back pocket—how wonderful was it not to have to carry a purse?—before she slipped on her heels.

  Thomas leaned against the Pontiac he’d inherited from Darren. His eyes went wide. “Jesus Christ, Carolyn, what the hell are you wearing?”

  “Language,” she snapped. Her brothers cursed like sailors. It drove her crazy.

  “You can’t wear pants. People will think you’re a guy.”

  Carolyn tossed her hair and stuck out her chest. “Really? I look like a man? This Randy you’re introducing me to is into guys?”

  “Jes—jeez, that’s disgusting and beside the point. Now go change.”

  “No. This is perfectly acceptable, completely fashionable attire to wear to a ballgame. And besides, I wore clothing like this all the time in Montana,” she lied.

  “Right. I can’t see the nuns or the priests being onboard letting you prance around in that get-up, let alone Aunt Hulda.” He shook his finger at her. “You get any shi—crap about that outfit? Don’t come crying to me, wanting to go home. You’re stuck.” He climbed in the car and slammed the door.

  As soon as they hit the paved road, Carolyn cranked up the radio. She was switching back and forth between the county station and the rock and roll station, singing along, when Thomas reached over and turned the music down.

  “If you didn’t like my singing you should’ve said so.”

  Thomas shook his head. “You were born with an angel’s voice, sis. I turned it off because I need to talk to you about something.”

  “Okay.” She had a warning flutter in her belly because Thomas was never serious.

  “You’ve been back here for three weeks. Mom and Dad expect you to stay the summer but have you given any thought as to what you might do come September?”

  She picked at the tiny balls of fuzz on her sweater and dropped them in the ashtray. “No. I mean yes, I’ve thought about it but I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Mom needs someone to take care of her; she has for years, so I’ll probably—”

  “No, Carolyn. I know you want to help, but you didn’t go away to school just to come back here and become Mom’s sole caretaker after you graduated.”

  She turned sideways in her seat and gaped at him. Then why did he—and her brothers—expect her to do everything for their mother? “But—”

  “I’ve decided to go to college,” Thomas blurted out. “I want a job where I don’t have dirt on my collar and under my fingernails every damn day. So I’m moving to Denver with Randy at the end of the summer.”

  “How will you afford that?”

  “I’ve been saving money since I scored that first job at Woolworth’s. You still considering taking up your friend’s offer to move to Chicago?”

  She shouldn’t have mentioned that to her nosy brother. Now he’d nag her even more. “I’m not sure if Cathy was serious or just being nice. And I don’t know that I’m cut out for life in the big city.”

  “Do me a favor—don’t tell Cathy no just yet. By the end of the summer you’ll probably be more than ready to get out of Wyoming.”

  “Is that why you’re leaving here?”

  Thomas didn’t speak until he’d parked in the lot behind the ball field. Even then he stared straight ahead instead of meeting her gaze. “There’s no place for me here. Harland is trying to run a ranch. Darren is helping his father-in-law in his sheep business. Marshall has a great job with the railroad. Stuart is happy as a carpenter. I only took the job at the coal mine after I graduated from high school because I didn’t have other options. Now I do.”

  As much as she hated the thought of Thomas not being around every day to annoy her, she understood his need to set himself apart. “Have you said anything to anyone about your plans?”

  He shook his head. “Not until I get the final application approval paperwork from the college.”

  “Well…I can probably keep that information to myself, but it’ll cost you.”

  Thomas’s soft gaze sharpened. “Cost me what?”

  Carolyn poked him in the chest. “I don’t want to be stuck doing all the dishes all summer. You help me and I’ll keep quiet.”

  Thomas twisted her finger, like he did when they were kids. “Fine, you little extortionist. Let’s watch the ballgame.”

  The baseball game was boring. So boring Carolyn found herself yawning a couple of times.

  Thomas’s friend Randy seemed decent, he was definitely nice looking and had the build of an athlete, but he stayed focused on the game as if it was the World Series. He sat next to her and every once in a while he’d pat her leg. His touch didn’t cause that fluttery feeling in her stomach like when Carson McKay had gently stroked her face. A shiver rolled through her, thinking about Carson’s rough-tipped fingers gliding across her skin.

  “You cold?” Randy asked.

  No. Just imagining another man’s touch.

  She shook her head.

  “It’ll be plenty hot at Dusty’s tonight,” Thom
as said.

  The game finally ended and all three of them crammed into the front seat of Thomas’s car. Since she had to straddle the hump in the center, her right thigh pressed against Randy’s left leg, and he considered that a sign she wanted to get closer. He stretched his arm across the back of the seat and curled his hand over her shoulder.

  Randy said, “Who all are we meeting here?”

  “Everyone that went to Buddy’s last weekend.”

  “Including Millie?”

  Thomas tensed beside her. “Probably.”

  Randy leaned in to whisper, “Your brother’s got it bad for her. I imagine the two of them will sneak off somewhere to be alone, so I’m glad you’re with me tonight.”

  Carolyn didn’t like the way Randy assumed they were together. She definitely didn’t like the way he placed his wet lips directly on her ear. She discreetly scooted closer to Thomas.

  “We’re here,” Thomas announced.

  The bar looked packed to capacity. She paid the cover charge—over Randy’s objections—and immediately headed for the bar. She recognized a few people from the dancehall the other night. Several women gave her outfit a sneering once-over or laughed.

  They’re just a bunch of Wyoming hillbillies and wouldn’t know trendy clothes if they bit them on the behind, she repeated to herself as she waited for her Coke. She decided to practice her wallflower impression when she heard a familiar shriek behind her.

  “Carolyn West, I didn’t know you’d be here!”

  She faced Beverly. “It was a last-minute thing.”

  “Good Lord, what are you wearing?”

  Carolyn cocked her hand on her hip. “Jeans. They’re the height of fashion every place besides backwards Wyoming,” she said very loudly.

  Beverly hooked her arm through Carolyn’s. “I gotta get me some of them. So who are you here with?”

  “Thomas and a friend of his.”

  “Which friend?”

  “Randy somebody.”

  “Randy Peeler?” she said with a gasp. “He is so dreamy.”

  Not as dreamy as Carson McKay.

  Seemed she’d set him up as the gold standard.

  “But watch Randy,” Beverly warned. “Evidently he uses those fast hands for more than just pitching, if you know what I mean.”