All-American Cowboy

by Dylann Crush

  “Just brisket. House specialty. You like it?” Charlie slid a bite into her mouth and chewed.

  “Mmm.” Beck nodded. “Delicious. And what are these? You said they were oysters?” He lifted one of the deep-fried nuggets from the paper-lined basket and turned it over in his fingers.

  “I said they were Rocky Mountain oysters. They’re a local specialty, and this weekend we’re celebrating Rocky Mountain Oyster Days. You don’t have to try them if you don’t want to. Some folks don’t like the thought of eating—”

  “How do you like it, Boss? All’s good?” A guy in a white apron stopped by the table.

  Charlie dabbed at the corner of her mouth with a napkin. “Beck, this is our head cook, Angelo. He’s the master of the barbecue.”

  “Nice to meet you, man.” Angelo wiped his palm on his apron and offered it to Beck.

  Beck popped the oyster into his mouth and grasped Angelo’s hand for a quick shake.

  “Oh.” Charlie’s eyes went wide.

  He swallowed the rubbery bite, wondering what had ruffled her feathers this time. “Nice to meet you, too. This barbecue is fantastic. I’ve never had anything like it before.”

  The younger man looked at his feet and played off the compliment. “Aw, you know how it is. Just slap some seasonings on and cook it real slow in the pit.”

  Beck nodded like he had a clue about what Angelo meant. “And these little oysters are interesting, although I’ve got to say, they taste more like calamari.”

  Angelo put his hands up, palms out, in a gesture of self-defense. “Charlie thought you might like ’em. They’re a real cowboy delicacy.”

  Charlie took a sip of her lemonade and coughed.

  “What am I missing?” Beck asked.

  “I tried to warn you, but you didn’t give me a chance.” Charlie’s lips quirked into a lopsided smile.

  “They’re good. I just can’t figure out where you get fresh seafood around here. Do you have it shipped in from the Gulf?”

  “Seafood?” Angelo’s forehead wrinkled. “Who told you they were seafood?”

  “Oysters. Bottom of the ocean, live in a shell, right?” What was the big deal? Everyone knew where oysters came from.

  “Oh, man.” Angelo’s hand went up to his mouth and covered a smile. “Those ain’t real oysters, dude.”

  Beck tossed another one in his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. “Then what are they?”

  Angelo glanced at Charlie, who appeared to be stifling a giggle, then leveled his gaze at Beck. “Bull testicles.”

  Beck’s stomach rolled over, and the contents spun around like a Tilt-A-Whirl. “Wait. You’re feeding me bull testicles? Like, cow balls?” He grabbed his napkin and wiped at his lips.

  Charlie hunched over the table, her shoulders shaking in silent laughter.

  “Yo, sorry, man. Charlie thought you might want to try them.” Angelo backed away toward the kitchen door.

  Charlie lifted her head. Her eyes watered. She’d laughed so hard she’d cried. And all at his expense. She wiped at her cheeks with her napkin. “I’m sorry. I really did try to warn you. But the expression on your face…”

  Her mouth split into a wide, sunny smile. Beautiful, Beck thought before pushing it away.

  “All right,” he said, beginning to grin back, “you got me. What’s with the fishnets though? You’ve got seashells hanging from the ceiling.”

  “Dixie gets a kick out of playing up the oyster part. It’s kind of a joke.” She bit her lip again in what appeared to be an attempt to keep from smiling. “I really am sorry. Think of it as kind of an initiation.” The plates clanged together as she stacked their dirty dishes. “And you passed.”

  “Yay me,” Beck said with a laugh. “Hey, at least you don’t serve Zungenwurst here.”

  “What’s that?”

  “A type of blood sausage. My nanny used to make it. Pig tongues, bacon, a little bit of blood, and onions.” He stood.

  Charlie wrinkled her nose. “That sounds disgusting.”

  “No worse than cow balls.”

  “Aw, come on. Just having a little bit of fun.” Her hip nudged his when she passed him on the way to the kitchen.

  Easy for her to say. He didn’t see Charlie tossing back any bull balls. He followed her out of the dance hall, shooting a glance back to the fishnets and plastic seashells. The hot brunette who’d stopped by to introduce herself earlier lifted her fingers and wiggled them in his direction.

  Charlie must have noticed the exchange. “I’d steer clear of her.”

  “Oh yeah? What makes you say that?” Beck asked. She seemed friendly enough. A heck of a lot friendlier than the hot-and-cold vibes he kept getting from the jokester next to him.

  “That’s my cousin Brittany. She’s working on her MRS degree.”

  MRS… Was that some kind of nursing program? “I don’t get it. Is that a local thing?”

  Charlie snorted. “Oh, you could say that. She’s on the hunt for a husband. MRS…get it? Missus? She thought she had a guy from Austin hooked a few months ago, but it fell through.”

  “She seems nice enough.”

  “Yeah, as long as your credit card has a big limit, you’ll be fine.” Charlie dropped the dishes off in a bin in the kitchen and washed her hands at the sink. “Ready to go check out Sully’s place? I have to be back here by four. We’ve got live music tonight, and it’s going to be pretty busy.”

  “Sure. Let’s go.”

  Charlie said her goodbyes to the staff and led him through the maze of hallways to a back door. “You want to drive so you know how to get there?”

  “Yeah, okay.” He walked past a fenced-in enclosure, doing a double take when a giant pig rubbed against the wood planks and snorted. What the hell?

  “Hold up.” Charlie walked over and scratched behind the pig’s ears through the fence. “I don’t think you’ve officially met Baby Back. She’s the Rose’s formal mascot and the reason you ran off the road yesterday.”

  Beck grabbed the top plank and leaned over the fence. The pig squealed and snorted, apparently enjoying Charlie’s attention. “Why—”

  “Why what? Why a pig?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, unless you’re planning on serving a lot of bacon. Is it sanitary to keep a pet pig so close to where people eat their dinner?”

  Charlie’s jaw dropped. “Don’t insult the reigning Rambling Rose’s Sweetest Swine.”

  “Excuse me? The Rambling Rose what?”

  Baby Back continued to rub against the fence as Charlie dug into the flesh behind her ears. “She was crowned the Rose’s Sweetest Swine in last year’s pageant. She’ll defend her title in a couple of weeks. That’s what I was working on when you got here—her costume.”

  “Wait a minute. You put this pig in a costume? For some sort of pageant?” Jeez, this place was weirder than he’d originally thought. Bull balls and costuming ginormous pigs. What other whacked-out traditions would he be subjected to before he got back to civilization?

  Charlie stood and crossed her arms over her chest. She seemed to take that stance with him a lot, and they hadn’t even known each other twenty-four hours yet. “I’ll have you know that folks come from hundreds of miles around for our annual competition. It’s a huge draw, and we pull in buckets of money that weekend.”

  “And all these people come to see your pig in a costume? Sounds like a porker of a good time.”

  “Not just my pig. We usually get upward of fifty entries. Just wait and see. Baby Back will win again, won’t you?” She leaned over the top rail to run her hand along the pig’s back.

  “Fifty pigs in costumes?” Beck laughed. “Definitely won’t want to miss that.”

  “Go ahead, make fun. But when you see the profits, you’ll be squealing too.”

  “And anyone can enter?” Who were these crazy p
eople who toted dressed-up pigs hundreds of miles? He’d for sure plan to be in town that weekend to check it out. That is, if he decided to try to make a go of it.

  “Yeah, you should enter.”

  He caught the challenge in her voice even before he saw it in her eyes. She didn’t think he could do it.

  “Maybe I will.” He reached a tentative hand through the fence to swipe a palm over the pig’s back.

  “Here, give her an apricot and she’ll love you forever.” Charlie dug into her pocket and pulled out a handful of dried apricot slices.

  “I’ve got to say, I’ve never been on the receiving end of a pig’s affection.” He held an apricot through the fence, and the pig snuffled it out of his fingers, leaving a little slobber on his hand. It tickled. What was a little pig drool anyway?

  “She likes you.” Charlie gave him an authentic smile, not the forced, icy ones she’d been tossing him all day.

  “Maybe I’ve got an undeveloped talent for working with pigs. All this time and I never realized.”

  “Maybe you do. Enter the contest, and we’ll find out. Baby Back needs some stiff competition this year.”

  Beck held out another apricot. “All right. I will.” At that moment, he vowed not only to find a freaking pig and enter the contest, but also to win.

  “Good. We probably ought to head out. Looks like it’s going to rain, and you’d probably rather have a chance to walk around the property without getting soaked.”

  The sky had darkened even more in the few moments since they’d stepped outside. “Okay, let’s go.”

  Charlie gave the pig one last pat, then caught up to Beck on the way to his SUV. “I can’t wait for you to see the place.”

  Beck beeped the key fob to unlock the car. He and Charlie were taking off for unchartered territory…it would be just the two of them this afternoon. Alone. Hopefully they’d be able to avoid any additional uncomfortable interactions. It wasn’t his fault they’d shared an awkward moment last night. After the frosty reception she’d given him earlier, she’d seemed to put it behind her, pretended like nothing had happened, and moved on.

  Hopefully he’d be able to do the same.

  * * *

  Charlie pointed out the property lines as they drove onto Sully’s land. “He’s got a thousand acres. Most of it rents out for grazing to my folks. I think the house sits on about three acres or so. At least that’s how much we kept mowed for him.”

  “So your family lives next door?”

  “Kind of.” For Beck, “next door” probably meant sharing a wall. Would he be able to grasp the idea of having neighbors he couldn’t actually see? “My family’s ranch butts up against Sully’s land on two sides. We’ve got about a hundred thousand acres.”

  “Is that a lot?”

  Charlie wiggled her shoulders into a half-hearted shrug. She didn’t want to brag, but the land had been in her family for more than a hundred years, and her dad managed one of the oldest family-owned ranches in Texas. “I suppose it’s a lot. There are others that are a lot bigger.” And even more that had been swallowed up or sold off bit by bit over the years. Hopefully her family ranch would never see the same fate, at least not with Waylon taking over.

  Beck stopped the SUV in front of the single-car garage as the first juicy raindrop plopped onto the windshield. “Should we make a run for it?” he asked.

  “You have the keys, right?”

  He held up his key ring and opened his door. A crack of lightning split across the sky, and Charlie flung the door open and raced to the stoop of Sully’s tiny rambler.

  Beck fumbled with the keys, trying to find the one that fit the lock.

  The front of Sully’s place didn’t have an overhang or any protection from the weather. Fat drops of rain splashed down from an angry sky, soaking through their shirts and pasting their clothes to their skin.

  “Forget it.” Charlie grabbed Beck’s arm and dragged him toward a door on the side of the garage. “Let me see if the garage is unlocked.” She turned the knob, wiggled it a bit, and turned it the other way. The door swung wide open into the pitch-black garage.

  A flash of lightning raced across the sky, sending a burst of light through the windows. Charlie wondered what Beck would make of the tarp-covered monstrosity taking up every square inch of the space. He moved past it toward the interior door, not seeming to notice. The door creaked open as he turned the knob, and the walls of Charlie’s chest squeezed together, causing her heart to falter for a beat.

  Sully.

  The familiar smell of saddle soap and boot cream smacked into her as she entered the spotless kitchen. She hadn’t been in his house since the night he’d died, and she was unprepared for the way her grief bubbled up and overflowed. Hadn’t she said her goodbyes? If only he’d been at peace when he’d passed. Up until the end, he’d asked about Beck…if he’d responded to his letters or the messages the hospice nurse had left.

  Suddenly, she felt an urgent need to understand exactly why Beck hadn’t come. It was too late for Sully to hear it for himself, but Charlie was sure his spirit lingered nearby. Beck owed him an explanation, and she would be the one to wrangle it from him.

  “So, what do you think?” She flipped the kitchen light on—an ancient brass fixture meant to look like an old-style lantern that hung over the small two-seater table.

  “It’s, uh, quaint?” Beck’s observation sounded more like a question.

  “Sully didn’t believe in living high on the hog. He was very conservative when it came to spending his money—and kind. He was truly one of the most caring people I’ve ever met.”

  Beck shifted his weight from foot to foot. “That’s not exactly how my dad described him. I wish I’d had the chance to meet your version of my grandfather.”

  Charlie reached into a drawer by the freestanding range and passed Beck a dish towel, then took one for herself. “But you did have the chance to meet him. How come you never came? He sent dozens of letters. They all came back.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I never received—or expected—any letters. My dad said there was bad blood between the two of them. As far as I know, when my grandfather kicked my dad out, he never heard another word from him. He started up his business in New York, he met my mom, they had me, they got divorced, he met my stepmom, and then he met the second stepmom. You know how the story goes, right?”

  Charlie narrowed her eyes. “So you had no idea Sully was trying to reach you?”

  Beck placed his palms flat on the retro white Formica counter with its golden starbursts. “No. Like I said, I barely heard about him. My dad said they weren’t close. He never wanted to talk about it, and I suppose I just let it go.”

  “Let it go?” She couldn’t imagine not being surrounded by family. She’d spent her whole life in Texas and had never wanted to be anywhere else. “You never wondered about your own flesh and blood?”

  “Sure I did. It’s…” Beck blew out a long breath and met her gaze. “It’s complicated. Can we just leave it at that for now?”

  His eyes begged for a break. A hint of grief mixed with resignation and defeat. She’d seen a similar look on her dad’s face before. It was the look of regret, of wishing things might have been different. She’d let it go. For now.

  “So you want to see the rest of the place?” she asked.

  “Sure, lead the way.” Beck ran his hands over his face, then shoved them in his back pockets and followed her through the doorway into the living room.

  A large picture window stretched across the front wall. Sully’s beat-up recliner angled toward the ancient television set, and a woodburning stove perched in the corner of the room. If she closed her eyes, she could picture Sully rocking back and forth, a static-filled baseball game on the screen and his lucky coin flipping between his fingers.

  What she wouldn’t gi
ve for a chance to ask him for guidance. Did he really think his grandson could handle the Rose? Did he want this complete stranger who didn’t know anything about family and the importance of tradition to take over instead of her? She waited, wishing and hoping for some kind of sign.

  Nothing.

  Beck moved to a wall of picture frames. Newspaper clippings, some faded and yellow, some more recent, hung on the fake wood paneling. Charlie had studied them during visits in the past. Beck’s dad’s career could be traced from his first big sale to some of his most recent projects in the frames on the wall. Photos clipped from magazines and newspapers pressed against the glass. There was even a picture of Beck when he was little from an article about his dad and his second wife, some supermodel.

  Charlie would have given a Buffalo nickel to know what Beck was thinking as his gaze passed over each frame. Did he wonder about the kind of man his grandfather had been? Was he sorry he’d never had the chance to know him? She paused while he studied the images and headlines in the murky light. Her finger hovered on the light switch, but she didn’t want to disturb the moment.

  Beck reached the end of the pictures and poked his head through one of the three doorways in the hall. “What’s in here?”

  “That’s the guest room. I think your grandmother used it for a sewing room a long time ago. Probably was your dad’s room when he lived here, but that was way before my time.”

  Beck flipped the light on, and Charlie stepped behind him as he surveyed the tiny room. A sewing machine cabinet sat along one wall, and a single bed had been tucked into the corner. The air felt denser here, like no one had disturbed the space for a long, long time.

  “Sully’s room is over here, and then there’s a bathroom. That’s it. It’s not much, but he sure loved it.”

  Beck glanced in the bathroom, then walked the length of the hall and entered Sully’s room. Charlie didn’t follow. The last time she’d been in that room, she’d held Sully’s hand as he took his last breath. She wasn’t ready to confront the emptiness yet.