More Than a Cowboy (Reckless, Arizona)

by Cathy McDavid

  Cassidy sent her a sharp look. “Besides ruin my life?”

  “Did he? Seems to me, we’ve always had it pretty good. Even without a father in the picture.”

  “You weren’t there when he was—” she glanced at Benjy “—inebriated.”

  “Was he violent? Abusive?”

  “No!”

  “Because I heard he was mostly melancholy. He’d drink and start blubbering like a baby. He must have missed his father terribly.”

  “Look, I’m sorry Grandpa died, too. He was a great guy. We were all sad. That’s no reason to throw away everything you have.”

  “Obviously, Mercer needed help. Support. Counseling. AA, whatever. Did he get it?”

  Cassidy looked down at her place mat. “I don’t remember.”

  “If you don’t remember, then he probably didn’t.”

  “What difference does it make?”

  “Alcoholism is a disease. A person requires treatment to get better.”

  “I’m through discussing this,” Cassidy hissed. “And I’m not going along with your absurd scheme to reconcile Mom and Dad, so don’t ask me.”

  Liberty sighed. Cassidy refused to say whatever had happened between her and Mercer. Maybe that was something Liberty could talk to him about. A more comfortable starting point than his lying to and manipulation of her.

  Tension lingered for the remainder of dinner. Liberty made several attempts to dispel it, then gave up. Cassidy was determined to remain a grump. There was one consolation. The pizza was warm and cheesy and oh-my-God delicious. Liberty forgot her earlier resolution and ate three pieces.

  Leaving Tony’s, they practically collided with Ernie Tuckerman and Tank Kluff, a lifelong local who worked as a maintenance repairman at the Roosevelt Mining Company in Globe. The two men appeared to have come out of the Hole in the Wall next door to the pizza parlor. The honky-tonk was actually nicer than its name implied and a popular spot for tourists.

  “Howdy, folks.” Tank patted Benjy on the head, then gave Liberty and Cassidy a smile. “How are you lovely ladies doing?”

  Before either of them could reply, Ernie turned and, without a word, stormed off as fast as his bum leg would allow.

  “What’s with him?” Cassidy peered at Ernie’s retreating back.

  Liberty bit her tongue.

  Tank gave an unconcerned shrug. “He’s out of sorts. Apparently your visit the other day brought back a lot of bad memories from the accident.”

  “What visit?” Cassidy looked confused.

  “Your sister and Deacon McCrea. They showed up at Ernie’s trailer asking questions.”

  Cassidy whirled on Liberty. “You didn’t think that was worth mentioning?”

  “It was Deacon’s business,” she said, a touch too defensively. “Not mine to tell.”

  “And you’re mad at Mom for keeping secrets.” Cassidy grabbed Benjy’s hand and tugged him down the sidewalk.

  Liberty knew she should go after them, only she didn’t. Frankly, she’d had her fill of her sister’s moodiness. Enough was enough. They were all dealing with the fallout from Mercer’s return. Liberty, too, and she managed to be agreeable. Most of the time.

  “Sorry about that,” Tank said. “Hope I didn’t get you in trouble.”

  “It’s all right. No worries.”

  “Me, I never had a problem with ole Deacon. But that Ernie, some things don’t change.”

  This conversation had suddenly become more riveting. “He didn’t like Deacon much?”

  “Not then, not now.”

  “Because of the accident.”

  “Long before then.” Luckily, the beer or two Tank had imbibed loosened his tongue. “It was no secret, he had it out for Deacon.”

  “Why?”

  “Ernie was one talented bull rider, but if anyone could have beaten him, it was Deacon. Ernie didn’t like that.”

  “Seems a little petty.”

  “To you. Not Ernie, not then. Rodeoing was all he had going for him in high school, and Deacon threatened that.”

  At the word “threatened,” Liberty’s suspicions rose. “What did Ernie do?”

  “Took it upon himself after that to make Deacon’s every waking moment a living hell. Teased the you-know-what out of him. Got everyone he could enlist to join him. It was Ernie who came up with the nickname Einstein.”

  She could believe that. No wonder he’d all but thrown her and Deacon off his place.

  A thought promptly occurred to her. Did she dare ask it? What if Tank reported back to Ernie? She decided on a less direct approach.

  “That’s a lot of hate to direct at one person.”

  “It didn’t stop with taunting. In my opinion, Ernie carried his grudge too far.”

  Her gaze narrowed. “What do you mean?”

  Tank promptly flustered. “Wife says I talk too much for my own good.”

  “I don’t think you’re talking too much.” She smiled winningly at him. “I’m enjoying your story.”

  “I’d better head home.” He retreated a step.

  Drat.

  “Tell your folks I’ll see them at the Helldorado Rodeo. We’re taking the boy. It’ll be his first one.”

  “Sure thing. Have a good night, Tank.”

  Liberty mulled over what Tank had said during her walk back to the truck.

  In my opinion, Ernie carried his grudge too far.

  Could too far be unlocking the gates to the bulls’ pen and blaming it on Deacon?

  That didn’t make sense. Ernie was gravely injured in the accident. No one would risk their own safety simply to play a prank on someone. Or would they?

  Regardless, she should tell Deacon. Right away. By the time she reached Cassidy and Benjy, she’d decided that if Deacon didn’t come to the arena tomorrow, she’d go to his office. During the drive home, she decided not to wait that long and call him first thing.

  Chapter Ten

  As it turned out, Liberty didn’t need to call Deacon. He was at the arena when she and Cassidy arrived. At least his truck was. According to Kenny, Deacon had headed off into the mountains an hour earlier. There were plenty of chores to keep her busy until he returned—which wasn’t long after that. She paused while inspecting a students’ new saddle, her gaze drawn to Deacon.

  Riding his gelding, he trotted toward his truck. If he saw her, he gave no indication. She decided not to get mad or feel hurt at the slight. He could be preoccupied, as she was lately.

  The horse was coated in a layer of dried sweat. Deacon must have ridden him hard. That was something Liberty did when she was bothered by a problem. An intense workout could be good for both animal and rider.

  Excusing herself from her student, she sought out Deacon. He finally looked at her when she was within a few feet.

  “Hi, there.”

  “Hey.” His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

  What did she expect? A warm embrace? Hardly. They’d agreed after being caught kissing by her mother and sister that there would be no public—and not so public—displays of affection. Not for the time being, at least. To assure that, Deacon had steered clear of her.

  Liberty thought they were fairly safe standing in the open area between the barn and arena. Several dozen people milling nearby further insured they’d stick to the rules.

  “Looks like you had quite a ride,” she said, watching him unsaddle.

  “I took the Aqua Vista Trail.”

  That accounted for the horse’s sweat. The trail was notoriously steep and rugged, suitable only for advanced riders.

  “I ran into Tank Kluff a little bit ago when Cassidy and I came out of the pizza parlor. He was with Ernie Tuckerman.”

  Deacon paused, then resumed removing Huck’s saddle a
nd bridle. But not before she caught a spark of interest in his dark eyes. “They’ve always been friends.”

  “Ernie took off the minute he saw us. But Tank hung around and talked for a while. He said something kind of interesting.”

  She had his attention now.

  “What’s that?”

  “He told me about Ernie’s grudge against you.”

  “Grudge is a strong word.”

  “Not according to Tank. In his opinion, Ernie took things too far.”

  Deacon finished brushing Huck and leaned against the truck bed, his arms crossed over his chest. “Go on.”

  “Actually, he clammed up after that.” She reached out and touched his arm. “Deacon, I think Ernie may have opened the gate to the bulls’ pen to eliminate you from the competition.”

  “Ernie knew better than to do anything so stupid as to let a bull loose.”

  “It makes sense in a weird way.”

  “Not to me.”

  “You’re being obstinate.”

  The corners of his mouth quirked in amusement.

  She was suddenly a little breathless.

  “I spoke to Joe Blackwood last week,” he said. “The livestock agent. He was there the day of the accident. Told me he found an electronic shocking device on the ground behind the bulls’ pen.”

  “Oh! My God. That wasn’t ours.”

  “They aren’t hard to come by.”

  “You think someone shocked Heavy Metal?”

  “Even if the gates were open, I still can’t believe any of those bulls would charge. They were settled down for the night, fed and watered and bone tired after a long practice.”

  “Unless they were encouraged to charge,” Liberty said. “With a shocker.”

  “If that’s true, then Ernie was the target.”

  “But what about Tank’s remark? That Ernie carried his grudge against you too far.”

  “Tank’s either mistaken or talking about something else.”

  Liberty was less sure. Why else would Tank have left in such a hurry? “What are you going to do?” she asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “Deacon! Someone used a shocker on Heavy Metal. Maybe some of the other bulls, too.”

  “We don’t know that.”

  “Joe found the shocker on the ground.”

  “Circumstantial evidence at best.”

  “Come on!” Liberty couldn’t believe how irritated she was at Deacon. Here were two valuable leads on what really happened the day of the accident, and he was ignoring them.

  “My former associate got back to me.” He gathered his horse’s lead ropes and started walking.

  Liberty fell into step beside him, still irritated but not ready to give up talking to him.

  “He believes Ernie has a legitimate case to pursue back disability payments from the Social Security Admin. Ernie’s retained him. I agreed to do the legwork pro bono.”

  She gaped at him. “You didn’t?”

  “It’s the right thing.”

  And showed what a truly decent guy Deacon was.

  “Does Ernie know?”

  “That I referred my friend? Yeah.”

  “But not that you’re doing the legwork for free?”

  Deacon said nothing.

  “Why not?” she insisted. “He should know. He accused you of something you didn’t do.”

  “One doesn’t have anything to do with the other. Ernie deserves the money that’s rightfully owed him.”

  Liberty didn’t care about the people who might be watching. She didn’t care that she and Deacon had agreed there would be no more kissing. She flung herself at him and hugged him hard enough to knock him off balance.

  It was quite satisfying.

  * * *

  BRAYING CALVES, BELLOWING bulls and whinnying horses made up only a fraction of the noise at the Helldorado Rodeo. There was also the constant blaring from the arena loudspeakers, the roar of the crowd and the rumble of trucks, trailers and cars coming and going in a nonstop stream.

  Deacon had been to rodeos since leaving Reckless, usually attending three or four a year, however often his schedule allowed. Last year, he and a buddy had traveled to Vegas and spent three days at the National Finals Rodeo, just for kicks.

  Always as a spectator. He hadn’t competed since college, when he’d entered a few PCA rodeos. The competition at the professional level was intense, far exceeding the junior rodeo level. For any chance of placing, Deacon would have had to dedicate more time, energy and money than his studies permitted.

  He’d loved college. Almost as much as he’d hated high school. Once his reading disability was diagnosed and Deacon was taught how to compensate, he couldn’t get enough of learning. Strange how what started out as the worst thing to ever happen to him became the best.

  Not that he’d ever brag about it. If anyone discovered he had a juvenile record, he’d lose clients right and left, and his career would tank. At least in Arizona.

  “Hey, Deacon. How’ya doing?”

  “Tank. Good to see you.” He immediately recalled Liberty’s conversation with Tank outside the pizza parlor. Maintaining a neutral expression, Deacon asked, “Who’s this young cowboy?”

  “My son. Jessie.” Tank introduced the toddler he balanced against his broad chest.

  “Nice to meet you, young man.”

  The boy studied Deacon warily, stuck his thumb in his mouth and turned away, more interested in the nearby catering van than Deacon.

  Tank, once a stocky young man, had grown into his childhood moniker. Literally grown into it. “What are doing with that number stuck to your back?”

  “Trying my hand at bulldogging.”

  “No joke! When’s the last time you wrestled a steer?”

  “Actually, just a couple weeks ago.”

  Tank’s loud laugh came straight from his generous belly and startled his little boy. “Well, good luck to you,” he said. “I’ll be rooting from the stands.”

  The decision to compete in the Helldorado Rodeo might be something Deacon lived to regret. Despite what he’d told Liberty, he hadn’t discounted her conversation with Tank about the electric shocker. It substantiated his suspicions of foul play. The perpetrator and the target, however, remained uncertain.

  Deacon thought mingling with the cowboys at the rodeo, some of whom were around at the time of the accident, might be a way to gather information without drawing attention to himself. Also, people talked more freely with someone they considered one of their own.

  Up till now, he hadn’t learned anything useful. Up till now, he hadn’t run into Tank Kluff.

  One round of steer wrestling with Liberty wasn’t enough practice. He was going to make a fool of himself. Well worth it if he learned something of value. So far, he’d struck out, but it was still early.

  The Helldorado Rodeo was a two-day event, the preliminary rounds on Saturday and the finals on Sunday. They’d just resumed after an hour lunch break and would continue into the evening. Deacon had no hope of making it to the Sunday finals. He’d be happy enough to simply survive the steer wrestling.

  “I’ll need all the support I can get,” he told Tank.

  “Aren’t you up next?”

  “Soon.” Deacon wasn’t leaving. Tank had yet to say anything interesting.

  “There’s more of the old gang here today. You seen any of them?”

  Old gang? Deacon had to suppress a bitter chuckle. He hadn’t been part of Tank’s or anyone’s gang back in high school. But he cut the other man some slack. It was the least he owed Tank for giving him such a perfect opening.

  “I’ve run into Vic and Hector and Woody.” Deacon’s glance traveled to the bleachers, overflowing with fans. “Is Ernie here? L
iberty says he comes sometimes.”

  “No clue. I don’t see him much. We’re not close.”

  And yet they’d shared a beer the other day.

  Deacon decided to be direct with Tank rather than indirect as he had with everyone else he’d spoken to today. “You were here the day of the accident. Do you remember anything that might shed light on what happened?”

  A shadow flitted across Tank’s broad face. “Other than you forgetting to lock the gate? I don’t.”

  Funny. According to Liberty, Tank had said he believed Deacon was innocent. But here he was, practically accusing Deacon. Had he lied to Liberty or were Deacon’s questions putting him on the defense?

  “I didn’t forget,” Deacon said, any previous doubts vanishing. “And I’m beginning to wonder if you know something you’re not telling.”

  “I wasn’t there.”

  “You were. In fact, you were the first person to reach Ernie after Heavy Metal gored him.”

  “I meant I wasn’t at the bulls’ pen when Ernie got hurt. I didn’t see anything, and as far as I’m concerned, we’re through talking.” His loud voice caused his son to start to whimper. Glaring at Deacon as if this was all his fault, he said, “You sure have changed.”

  The other man had no idea how much.

  They parted with a terse goodbye. Deacon headed in the direction of the bucking chutes where he’d wait with the other cowboys, assessing the steer and the competition until their event started.

  “Deacon?”

  Hearing Liberty call his name, he wheeled and allowed himself a long, leisurely look at her. Damn, he’d missed her this past week. One brief encounter wasn’t enough. It had required all his fortitude not to seek her out at the arena or phone her in the evening when the lights were low and the house was too quiet even for him.

  She looked great. Slim-fitting Levi’s accentuated her small waist and sexy curves. A pink checkered Western-cut shirt tucked neatly into the waistband and a tan cowboy hat perched on her head completed the outfit.

  He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. He’d held her by the waist last week when she hugged him, then let his arms slide around to her back. He hadn’t wanted to let go. Ever. Staying away had been the only available option.