Counterfeit Cowboy

by Gail MacMillan

  “No kiddin’? My mom’s a big fan. Can I have an autograph? She’d be thrilled crazy.” He looked around. “Darn, I don’t have any paper...or a pen.”

  “No problem.” She smoothed a spot on the newspaper and pulled a pen from Shelby’s shirt pocket. “What’s your mom’s name?”

  “Ellen.”

  “ ‘To my dearest fan, Ellen. Love, Michelle.’ Is that okay?” She handed the paper to Jordan, perfectly whitened teeth showing in a wide smile.

  “Great! Mom will treasure this!” He beamed down at the scrawl. “Thanks, Miss Latton.”

  “Not a problem, sweetie. So, Shelby, have you finally found yourself a man, or is Jake a free agent?” She swung on her neighbor, smile intact but eyes narrowing.

  “Definitely a free agent.”

  “A bit of a rough diamond.” Michelle circled him, her gaze raking him from head to toe. “But talent is definitely limited around here.” She paused in front of him to run a red-nailed finger down his left jaw. “Maybe, just maybe.” Eyes narrowing suggestively she looked up at him.

  “Sorry, ma’am? Maybe what?” He made what he hoped looked like a puzzled frown crease his forehead.

  “I like that…pure, earthy, innocent country.” She patted his cheek, then turned and headed back to her convertible. “See you around, nature boy,” she called as she slid into the seat. “As for you, Doctor,” she tossed Shelby’s pen in her direction. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe that stupid article will make some decent publicity. After all, I am billed as the bad girl on the show. What could be wilder than a horse rustler? Might even be able to use some sort of angle about my trying to rescue an animal from an abusive home. How would that be for turning the tables on you, Doctor?”

  She started the engine, revved it three times, then shot out of the drive in a cloud of dust.

  “Well!” Jordan bent to retrieve Shelby’s pen. “Quite a handful. I’ll have to keep a tight grip on my jeans around that one.”

  He handed the ballpoint to her, winked, and headed back into the barn.

  “Don’t flatter yourself, chum!” Shelby called after him. “You’d only be another body in the queue. She’s been trying to make it to the big screen for years and I’ve no doubt she’s been doing all she can to get there, including bedding anyone who could help her to her goal.”

  ****

  “Hey, Shel!” Travis yelled from the yard. “Jake and I are heading into town to pick up that feed order. You need anything?”

  “You could have gone to the door to ask.” Jordan shook his head as he climbed into the driver’s seat of the old pickup.

  “Ah, don’t go getting all big brother on me, Jor…Jake.” Travis trotted around the truck to the passenger side. “Shel is used to me.”

  “Milk and eggs.” She came out onto the veranda in her white lab coat. “What about lunch? It’s nearly noon.”

  “We’ll grab something in town.” Travis climbed into the passenger seat.

  “You’re taking Jor…Jake’s truck?”

  “Sure. Jake has a nearly full tank of gas. Let’s go, Jake.”

  “See you later, boss.” Jordan looked up at her standing on the top step, touched the peak of his ball cap’s visor, winked, and shifted into first gear.

  “Don’t forget, you have your first lesson at two o’clock,” she reminded him.

  “Looking forward to it, ma’am.” He quirked a grin before he accelerated down the drive.

  “You okay with the place?” Travis slanted him an apprehensive glance as they turned out onto the road.

  “Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?” Surprised at the younger man’s question, he returned the look.

  “Well, it’s just that it isn’t exactly the kind of place you’re used to. Shel should have invited you to stay in the guest room at the house. That old cabin isn’t very elegant.”

  “And how would that look, a hired hand living in the house when there’s a perfectly good bunkhouse just across the yard?”

  “Okay, guess you’re right. But still…”

  “Look, Travis, I didn’t grow up staying in mansions or five-star hotels. And if your sister hadn’t made ‘no back stories’ a condition of our agreement, I’d tell you about it. Just take my word for it. I feel right at home on your farm and the cabin suits me right down to the ground. Satisfied?”

  “Satisfied.” Travis shot him a grin, then settled back comfortably on the worn seat.

  I like this kid. He’s a lot like Kevin…in the good times.

  ****

  “Hey, Jake, let’s stop for a burger and fries.” Travis indicated the fast food place to their left as they were about to leave town, the cargo space filled with bags of feed. On the seat between them were two boxes, one containing a new pair of riding boots, the other the sneakers he’d abandoned in favor of the work boots he’d also purchased and now wore. “I’m really hungry, and Shel won’t have time to fix us lunch by the time we get back. She’ll have afternoon patients coming in before your lesson. She’s on a tight schedule.”

  Jordan hesitated. He shouldn’t, but he guessed Travis, like the boys in his band, had a passion for junk food. And it wasn’t like it was two a.m. Surely his gut could handle it at noon.

  “Sure.” He turned the pickup into the restaurant. “But no drive-through. I want to eat at a table.”

  A few minutes later, across that table, Jordan looked over at Travis devouring his supersized burger. The kid worked hard. He’d watched him that morning. No wonder he had a king-sized appetite.

  “So you have a band?” he opened the conversation.

  “Yeah, well, nothing like yours.” He paused and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Just a bunch of guys fooling around. But I’d like to do it seriously some day.”

  “Play for me sometime.” Jordan picked up a fry, looked at it, and dropped it back into its container. “Maybe I can give you a few pointers.”

  “Hey, would you, Jor…Jake? That would great!”

  “No problem.”

  “Wish I could go at it full time, but right now Shel needs me, and I’m not about to let her down. She doesn’t support my ideas about making a career in music. Afraid I’ll get disappointed…like she was.”

  “Shelby was a musician?” He choked on the soft drink.

  “No, no. She was a world class rider. Had hopes of making the Canadian National Equestrian Team when she was a teenager. Didn’t happen.”

  “So now she’s holding you back from taking a run at fame.”

  “From taking a run at disappointment and hurt, more like.” He focused his gaze on his meal. “Shel is a great sister.”

  “I believe you. She’s one amazing lady.”

  “Yeah, about that.” Travis abandoned his meal to look Jordan squarely in the eyes. “Shel is pretty and smart and has a whole lot going for her. I wouldn’t want her hurt or disappointed again…if you get my drift.”

  “Sure, sure, big brother talk, right?” He grinned into the frown developing on his companion’s face. “Trust me, Travis. I respect your sister far too much to play fast and loose with her. Anyhow, I’m not that kind of guy.”

  “Well, I’m just sayin’.” Travis muttered as he returned his attention to the remainder of his lunch.

  “And I’m just tellin’ you, nothing to worry about, my man.”

  Travis looked up at him and slowly his grin met Jordan’s. “Thanks, Jake. I was pretty sure you’d never do anything to hurt Shel, but I had to talk to you about it. That’s what brothers do.”

  “Understood. Glad we got that out of the way. Now when she gives us both a few minutes off, we can jam, okay?”

  “Great.” Travis crumpled up his hamburger wrapper and piled it onto the tray with the rest of the papers. “Better get going. Shel needs that feed this afternoon. That stop at the boot store slowed us down, but those running shoes you were wearing just don’t cut it for barn work. And you sure as heck couldn’t ride in them.”

  “Yeah.” Jordan looked down at the pair o
f spanking new steel-toed boots on his feet. “I’ll feel a whole lot better in the event one of your horses accidentally steps on my foot. I’ll bet your sister will be surprised to discover I’ve bought riding boots, too.”

  ****

  As he finished the last fry, Jordan knew he’d made a big mistake. His stomach roiled and ached. Trying to ignore it and hoping he’d make it back to the farm before the real trouble hit, he followed Travis across the parking lot to where the old truck was parked.

  “How about driving, Travis?” He held out the key. “I’d like to catch a few winks.”

  “Farm life getting to you already?” Travis took it and grinned. “Sure. Snooze away. It’ll be good to drive something different.”

  They’d barely made it out onto the highway when the first wave of nausea hit.

  “Pull over, Travis, pull over quick.” Jordan bolted upright in the seat, swallowing hard. “I’m going to be sick.”

  Travis yanked the truck into the breakdown lane and, glancing a concerned look at his companion, braked to a stop.

  Jordan stumbled out and vomited.

  “You okay, Jake?” Travis started to get out, but Jordan waved him back.

  “Yeah, yeah. Just had to barf.” Damn, he was sounding like his kids. “I’ll be fine in a minute.”

  He wasn’t. During the next half hour Travis had to pull over three more times. Some treat for the kid. The thought crossed his mind as he retched five miles from the farm.

  Then they were finally turning in at the gate, driving down to the barn, and Travis was leaping out, calling for his sister.

  “Shelby, you’ve got to take a look at Jake! He’s real sick!”

  “What happened?” he heard her ask as he eased himself out of the passenger seat and saw her coming toward him in long, confident strides. Always so in charge, always so strong. Isn’t she ever vulnerable like the rest of us? Admiration managed to happen somewhere in his exhausted mind.

  “I don’t know.” Travis’s forehead furrowed with concern. “We stopped at a fast food place for a burger and fries. A few minutes later, he got sick…gut-wrenching sick.”

  “Jake, what’s wrong?” Shelby stopped beside where he was leaning on the truck’s fender and put a hand on his arm.

  “Hey, just what I need…a vet.” His attempt at a joke fell flat as he staggered away from her and retched again.

  “Food poisoning?” he heard Travis ask his sister. “Maybe I should have taken him to the hospital, but we were halfway home when it hit.”

  “Could be. If it is, we should be able to handle it, unless he gets dehydrated. Help me get him up to the house. We can’t leave him alone in the cabin.”

  “Hey, I’m not an invalid.” He straightened and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Man, how crude could you get. But he had nothing else.

  “Of course you’re not.” She put an arm around his waist and urged him back into the truck. “Travis, drive him up to the house. I’ll follow you.”

  ****

  “Take off your shirt.” In the farmhouse guest room, Shelby pulled the drapes against the hot afternoon sun and gave the order as he slumped down to sit on the edge of the bed.

  “What? Listen, I know you’re a doctor, but I really don’t feel comfortable stripping in front of you.” He quirked a weak grin in her direction.

  “Yes, well, you won’t be going to bed in my house in a soiled shirt. I’ll bring you one of Travis’s T-shirts. Let me help you with your boots. New, aren’t they?”

  She knelt in front of him, and he was too exhausted to protest as she began to unlace his recent acquisitions.

  “Travis thought I needed them.”

  “You do. And riding ones, too. I should have mentioned them before you went to town.” She pulled the first one off.

  “Not to worry.” He struggled out of his shirt and dropped it on the floor. “Travis saw to it that I bought those, too. They’re in the truck.”

  “Good for Travis.” She removed the second boot. As she straightened, she stopped short, her gaze on his chest.

  Hope she’s seeing something she likes. Otherwise all those crazy sessions at gyms were a waste. Damn, right now I’m too sick to really care. He dropped back against the pillows and felt her raise his feet onto the bed. What a wimp. He hated his quisling body for making a fool of him.

  “Rest.” She adjusted cool pillows under his head in the shaded room. “I’m going to get something that will settle your stomach and make you sleep.”

  “I can’t take a nap…not in the middle of a working day.” He started to struggle up, but she pushed him back with a strength that at first surprised him, then made sense. She was a vet, accustomed to wrestling animals. One sickly singer wouldn’t present much of a challenge.

  “Yes, you can.” She straightened, put her hands on her hips, and looked down at him. In jeans and T-shirt, curls coming lose from her ponytail to fall across a forehead glistening with sweat on this hot day, Dr. Shelby couldn’t have looked more like an angel of mercy than Florence Nightingale to the Crimean troops.

  “I’m in charge around here and you’ll do as I say.” She put a cool hand on his forehead. “You’re a bit fevered. I’ll bring an ice pack.”

  Man, that felt good…soothing and relaxing and comforting all in one.

  “Okay.” With a weary sigh, he closed his eyes and let the peace and comfort of the old farmhouse bedroom take over. He needed this, just exactly this. To be cared for instead of caring for others, just for a little while. Just until he got his gut under control.

  “Good. Get out of those jeans and under the sheet. I’ll be right back. If you feel nauseated again, the bathroom is across the hall.”

  She headed for the door, but he stopped her.

  “Dr. Masters…Shelby?”

  “Yes.” She paused and turned back from the waist up.

  “Thanks.”

  “No problem. You’ll feel better soon.” She left, closing the door softly behind her.

  He hesitated, then pulled himself up to shuck his jeans. When he stretched out in his underwear between cool, clean sheets, a sudden sense of peace enveloped him and he felt his stomach relax.

  Feels a lot like home one summer day when I got sick eating too many blueberries and my mom put me to bed. Same great old-fashioned room, same type of bed, same type of comfort and reassurance. Maybe this is all I need to get myself in shape. Maybe six weeks here will set me back on track so I’ll be able to handle the boys again. If I learn to ride even a bit, that will be a bonus.

  “Drink this.” Shelby reentered the room, a sweating glass in one hand, a cold pack under her elbow.

  She sat down on the edge of the bed and handed the drink to him as he sat up, the sheet to his waist.

  “Good.” He muttered the word as he tasted the lemonade-flavored beverage. “I needed that. Think I was dehydrating.”

  “Could have been.” She waited until he finished, took the glass, and put a cool hand on his bare shoulder to push him back against the pillows. “Here.”

  She pressed the cold pack against his forehead. He flinched at its touch, then sighed as relief flooded through his head.

  “Sleep now.” She started to rise, but he caught her hand and was rewarded with a startled but not unwelcoming look.

  “Sorry about this. I promise I won’t make a burden of myself again. In an hour or two, I’ll be ready to go back to work.”

  “I know you will.”

  She stood, looked down at him with a smile that made his entire body tighten, then left.

  ****

  “How are you feeling?”

  Shelby’s voice brought him awake. He blinked to see her standing beside his bed in the darkened room.

  “Better.” He forced a grin and clasped his hands on the pillow behind his head. “Not a great way to start off as a hired hand.”

  “Never mind about that. Do you think it may be food poisoning? A burger left on the hot tray too long?”

&nbs
p; “No.” He drew a deep breath. “It’s me and my mixed-up gut. Too many fast food meals too late at night, black coffee for breakfast, junk to fill the hunger void. The past three years are catching up with me. Doctor says I have to start eating healthy at regular hours, but in my line of work? He’s got to be kidding.”

  “That’s a situation we can remedy.” Shelby opened the curtains to let in the late afternoon sun. “You’ll find we eat sensibly and at the same times each day. If that’s all that ails you, we’ll have you back on your feet in no time. I’ll call you for supper in a half hour. Chicken stew with dumplings and a blueberry cobbler for dessert.”

  “If you hadn’t opted to be a vet, you’d have made a great chef.”

  “Flattery will only get you another home-cooked meal.”

  “Well, then, let me rave on.”

  “Not necessary. See you in the kitchen.”

  She smiled that great smile again and left. Jordan stretched, then eased himself out of bed. He pulled on his jeans she’d hung over the end of the bed and went to the window to look out toward the fields and barn.

  In the corral a beautiful charcoal animal with silver mane and tail was prancing, accompanied by a jet black one, while another the color of cinnamon watched sedately. Fancy. The charcoal one was called Fancy. The others he knew he’d meet shortly. He hoped he’d prove a good student. He couldn’t afford to let that movie deal fall through.

  But this place.

  It was special.

  The sea, the horses, the house, but most especially the two people who lived there.

  He turned back to the bed and found a fresh white T-shirt waiting for him. Travis’s, he guessed as he pulled it on and it settled tight across his chest. Man, these people really did their best to take care of a client, didn’t they?

  ****

  “Shel, I’m heading over to Will’s to jam, okay? I’ll be back around ten thirty.”

  “Okay, but no later.” She muted the television and dropped the remote on the coffee table. “We have a big day tomorrow. I’ll be working with Jake, so you’ll have to take on those two mares I’ve been handling.”

  Jordan overheard the exchange from the kitchen, where he’d just finished cleaning up.

  “No problem. See ya, Jake.” Travis brushed past him as he headed into the living room doorway, a dish towel over his shoulder.