All-American Cowboy

by Dylann Crush

  “His name is Hendrix.”

  “That’s an interesting choice of name,” Cash commented.

  Jinx shrugged. “My dad was a huge fan of Jimi.”

  “He’s so cute!” Kenzie’s grabby hands reached for the animal.

  “Kenz, you need to ask if you can hold it.” He cast a quick look at the animal. “Does it bite?”

  “No, he’s super gentle. Here, you can hold him. He likes it when you scratch him behind the ears.” She passed the scrawny thing to Kenzie, who nestled it against her chest.

  “Daddy says I can’t have a dog.”

  “Dogs are a lot of work.” Cash felt an unfamiliar need to defend himself. “You’ve already got a cat.”

  “Yeah, but Chucky doesn’t live inside. I want a dog like this.” She ran her fingers over the dog’s back.

  Jinx gave him the side eye. “You’ve got a cat named Chucky?”

  “He’s got some anger issues. It’s a long story.” Great, just great. With Christmas coming up, Kenzie would probably tell Santa she wanted a dog. He’d have to figure out a better excuse to head her off before she made the request. His schedule was barely sane keeping up with Kenzie. Adding a dog to the mix wouldn’t be fair to the dog or his parents, who took in Kenzie when he had to work nights.

  While Kenzie fired question after question, he kept one eye on the road and the other on Jinx. Cash let Kenzie do the dirty work; his daughter would make a fabulous interrogator someday. Jinx didn’t appear to be threatening, but she definitely had her guard up.

  Who could blame her? With the crazy hair, pounds of metal piercing her body, and hardcore attire, she didn’t exactly fit in with the small-town vibe Holiday was known for. But as his mama always said, what really matters is invisible to the eye. He’d always struggled a little bit with that one, especially in his line of work, where things often were exactly as they seemed.

  Kenzie didn’t let up. “Do you have any brothers and sisters?”

  Jinx had shifted in her seat to face his daughter. “You ask a lot of questions.”

  “Daddy says I’m inquibative, right, Daddy?”

  “Inquisitive,” Cash corrected.

  “He says it’s a nice way of saying I’m nosy.”

  Jinx made brief eye contact with Cash. A tentative smile teased the corners of her mouth upward. “Your daddy sounds like a funny guy.”

  “Sometimes he’s funny. He makes good jokes. Tell her the one about the skeleton.”

  “Aw, Tadpole, Jinx doesn’t want to hear my jokes.” His gaze darted to his right.

  The light from the dash illuminated another smile from Jinx. “Sure I would.”

  Cash shook his head. “Just remember, you asked for it.”

  She raised her eyebrows, encouraging him to continue.

  “All right. Why didn’t the skeleton cross the road?”

  Kenzie bounced up and down in her booster seat. “He didn’t have any guts!” She erupted into a fit of giggles in the back seat, her sparkly glittered sneakers battering the back of the center console.

  Jinx’s shoulders gave a little shake. “That’s a good one. Do you know why the skeleton didn’t want to go to school?”

  Kenzie stopped laughing and furrowed her little brow, trying to come up with an answer. “No, why?”

  “His heart wasn’t in it.” Jinx flashed his daughter a smile, turning toward him with the tail end of a grin still gracing her face.

  “Can you come to our house, Jinx?” Kenzie reached out to pet the blue hair again.

  The last thing Cash needed was for his daughter to form an instant attachment to an out-of-place punk chick. For all he knew, she might even be running from the law in some capacity.

  Could be she was just passing through and her bike broke down. But then why was she so evasive about where she was from and where she was headed? He’d get her to Dwight’s and let him help her with the bike. He had enough going on and couldn’t afford to expend any energy worrying about the comings and goings of every single person who passed through Holiday on their way to somewhere else.

  By the time they got to Dwight’s garage, he’d learned more than he ever cared to know about hair dye and pierced ears. Kenzie passed the dog back to Jinx, who tucked it into her bag. Cash climbed out of the truck, leaving the motor running. He met up with Jinx as she hopped down, her boots thudding onto the pavement. Under the buzz of crappy overhead gas station lights, he got a better look at her. Ripped black leggings, fingers full of rings, eyes lined in black—she looked like a full-size version of one of those Monster High dolls Kenzie got for Christmas last year.

  “Dwight ought to be able to help you out from here.” He nodded toward the small convenience store where Dwight stood staring out the window, then slid a business card out of his wallet. “Let me know if you need anything while you’re in town.”

  She flipped it over in her fingers. “Deputy sheriff, huh?” She bristled, then visibly made her shoulders relax.

  “Yeah. I just tell dad jokes when I’m not busting bad guys.”

  Her gaze met his as she slid the card into her pocket. “Thanks for the ride.”

  “You bet. Good luck, Jinx.”

  He waited while she moved toward the door. Definitely hiding something. He’d circle back with Dwight tomorrow and follow up to see if he could get any additional info about the woman with the blue hair. Right now, he had bigger issues—like how to get a sugar-loaded unicorn to bed.

  Chapter Three

  The guy in the dirty baseball cap stood behind the counter. Staring at her. Mouth half open. Whether it was surprise, confusion, or just his natural state, Jinx hadn’t figured out quite yet. The rumble of Cash’s truck pulled her attention to the window. Taillights winked, then he drove onto the road, leaving her with a guy who could have starred in Deliverance. Even though she wasn’t one to typically put her trust in anyone, she somehow felt like Cash wouldn’t have left her here if she needed to worry about Dwight.

  “So, um, that guy who dropped me off here said you can fix a motorcycle?” She thumbed toward the window.

  “Do what?” Dwight’s brow wrinkled under the brim of his hat.

  “You fix bikes here? I’ve got an Indian I had to leave a few miles back. Engine died on me, and I need to know what’s wrong.” She waited a beat, then two, for the guy to say something.

  The line bisecting his forehead deepened. “Bikes. Yeah, I can fix just about anything. Where’s it at?”

  Finally. “About five miles down the main road, then off on a side road in some bushes.”

  “Won’t run?”

  Didn’t she just say the engine died? “No. You ever work on Indian bikes? My dad rebuilt it about twenty years ago. Might need some work.”

  Now he looked like she’d just insulted his mother. A sneer stretched over his face. “I ain’t met a motor I can’t fix.”

  “Great. So can we go get it?” The sooner she figured out what was wrong, the sooner she’d be able to get out of here. Small towns gave her the creeps. She preferred to be surrounded by strangers, able to blend in to the anonymity of a big city street.

  “Yeah. Let’s go.” He snagged a ring of keys off a hook behind the counter and led the way through the store to the garage.

  She wasn’t crazy about the idea of jumping in a truck with another complete stranger, but what choice did she have? If he got out of hand, she could take him. She’d stood her ground against guys much bigger than him over the years.

  An hour later, they’d unloaded her motorcycle into the three-bay repair shop. Dwight had taken a quick look but said he wouldn’t be able to get started on it until the next afternoon. He had an ATV repair he’d promised to someone first. Based on what he’d seen so far, he thought it might require a total rebuild. At that news, a rock the size of that possum she’d seen on the side of the road dropped
into her gut. She gathered as much of her stuff as she could carry.

  “You got a phone number you want me to call when I know more?” Dwight pulled a pen from behind his ear and held it over his palm.

  Like hell she wanted her phone number decorating any part of his anatomy. “I’ll stop by tomorrow afternoon. Think you’ll know something by, say, two?”

  He shrugged. “Better make it three. You got a place to stay tonight?”

  She hated small towns. If she said yes, he’d want to know where she was headed. If she said no, he’d make some suggestion, hopefully one that didn’t involve his place, and he’d probably follow up to make sure she went there. She didn’t want to spend the cash she’d brought with her at a pricey bed-and-breakfast. But there was no way in hell she’d want to entertain the idea of bunking at Dwight’s for the night.

  “I’ll figure something out.”

  “There’s a B&B a few blocks over that way.” He pointed to a corner of the garage. “Probably ought to have space, seein’ as how it’s a weeknight and all.”

  “Thanks.” She gathered her things and turned toward the door. “See you tomorrow.”

  The heavy weight of his stare pressed down on her as she walked in the direction he’d pointed. Once the door clicked closed, she looked back. No Dwight. She circled around, ready to make the five-mile trek to retrieve the gift cards from that log. Maybe she could find an out of the way strand of trees to set up her tent for the night.

  After days of having the bike between her thighs, her muscles twinged as she took long strides down the road. Things would work out. They always did. Hopefully, she’d get out of town before she had any more uncomfortable interactions with the law. Even if the local lawman had a sizzling gaze, a disarming smile, and a precocious little girl.

  He was probably married anyway. Perfect nuclear family of three. Mom, Dad, well-loved, happy little girl. The kind of family a kid deserved.

  Not like her fucked-up excuse for a home life.

  She rarely allowed herself to dwell on the past, and no matter how much things sucked right now, she wouldn’t let herself go there. That was her mom’s MO. Instead, prepared to make the best of camping under the clear, starlit sky, she thought about the things she should be thankful for. She had half a sandwich leftover from lunch, a tent to shelter her from the chill in the air and whatever might be crawling around in the weeds, and Hendrix to keep her company. Yeah, life could be better. But it could also be a lot worse.

  That she knew from experience.

  * * *

  Cash removed his cowboy hat as he entered the elementary school. He slid his ID through the scanner and pressed the button.

  The school secretary’s grizzled voice floated through the speaker. “Welcome to Kennedy Elementary. The security system is broken this morning. Just come on in.”

  What good did it do to have the damn security system if it never worked right? The school board had pushed for it, and the whole town had worked together to raise enough funds for its installation last summer. He’d have to talk to the boss about that. But first, the meeting with Kenzie’s teacher.

  “Good morning.” The secretary, Mrs. Aberdeen, hadn’t changed a bit since he’d been a student at Kennedy, nearly a quarter of a century ago. Still wore her hair in that frizzy bun. Still sported that hairy mole on her chin. Still sounded like she smoked three packs a day. Thanks to his day job, he’d learned Mrs. Aberdeen actually preferred a different kind of smoking—as in the illegal, recreational kind. Another drawback to working in the sheriff’s department was he learned way too much about way too many people. “How are you doing today, Mr. Walker?”

  He didn’t bother to correct her. Most people called him Deputy Walker nowadays, or at least Cash. Seeing as how he managed to look the other way when he found her smoking a joint at the Chuckwagon Extravaganza last summer as a trade-off for all the times she didn’t report him to the principal for tearing up the town as a kid, he figured they might have achieved first name status. Evidently not.

  “I’m here to see Kenzie’s teacher.”

  “They’re in the staff lounge.” She pointed to a doorway, then, without looking up, licked an envelope from the stack in front of her and pressed the flap closed.

  “Thanks.” He shuffled past her desk, still not comfortable being this close to the principal’s office, even after all these years.

  “Cash, glad you could make it.” The district psychologist whose name he could never remember offered her hand.

  He set his hat down on the table and took her hand, looking to Kenzie’s teacher, Ms. Pepper, for an explanation. His brother Statler had dated Grace Pepper all through high school and college. It was hard to take her seriously when he could still hear Strait and Presley singing that stupid song they’d made up…Statler and Grace—sucking face.

  Grace shuffled some papers. “Lindsey, I mean Mrs. Blost, was able to join us today.”

  “Okay.” Cash lowered himself into a chair that looked like it hadn’t left the room since the school was built in the 1960s. “I thought you just wanted to touch base about Kenzie’s progress so far this year.”

  “That’s right,” Mrs. Blost said, taking charge. “Kenzie is a special little girl.” She twittered. “I know I don’t have to tell you that.”

  Cash glanced to Grace. She didn’t look up. “Now I know you didn’t call me down here to talk about how special Kenzie is. What’s going on?”

  Mrs. Blost’s hand fluttered against her collarbone. “She’s doing just fine. Ms. Pepper noticed some issues with Kenzie’s reading progress though, and I’d like to run a few tests.”

  “Wait a minute.” Cash put his hands palm down on the laminate tabletop. “What kind of tests?”

  Grace put her hand on his arm. He jerked it away. She’d always seemed like the touchy-feely type.

  “Cash, it’s standard stuff. Kenzie’s not reading at grade level. She’s barely reading at all,” Grace explained. “I called in Mrs. Blost to check for dyslexia. Kenzie shows mild signs—”

  “Whoa!” Cash put his hands out, palms facing the two women. Kenzie was perfect; what in the hell did they know about anything? “You’re trying to tell me something’s wrong with my little girl?”

  “Nothing’s wrong with her.” Mrs. Blost clucked her tongue. “She’s got some challenges, and we want to figure out how best to support her.”

  The pity in Grace’s eyes looked just like it had when she’d called him in talk about how clingy Kenzie was the first few weeks of school. He’d had to remind her Kenzie didn’t have a mama at home and guessed that was the reason behind her obsession with her new teacher.

  “No matter what the test shows, it’s obvious Kenzie is going to need some extra help with her reading. My schedule is booked, but I’d be happy to put her on the waitlist for a tutor.”

  “What can I do to help?” Cash asked. Kenzie was his life. When her mom had walked out on both of them years ago, he had promised his little girl he’d never leave her, that he’d always be there for her. They’d made a good team so far. But being a single dad was hard. A hell of a lot harder than he’d ever imagined. And now, trying to navigate a learning disability on his own would only make it that much harder.

  “Let’s do the tests first. Once we have a clear diagnosis, we can take it from there. Sound good?” Mrs. Blost nodded like it was all settled.

  “Cash?” Grace tilted her head. “You okay?”

  He managed a nod.

  “Kenzie’s still the amazing, creative, darling little girl you know and love. This doesn’t change anything. She just needs some extra help.” Grace stood and pushed her chair in to the table. “I’ve got to get back to the classroom—the kids will be back from art soon. You have any questions or want to talk about this, give me a call, okay?”

  Standing, he set his hat back on top of his head and thrust h
is fists into the pockets of his uniform jacket. “Yeah, okay.”

  He opened the door and let the women pass through first. His mom would know what to do about this. The matriarch of the Walker clan, she had a no-nonsense way of simmering things down to manageable pieces. She’d been there for him when he had decided to take on full custody, and since she’d kept him and his siblings alive to adulthood, she knew a lot more than he did about how to raise a kid.

  “Thanks again for coming in.” Mrs. Blost walked him to the front door, his daughter’s future smashed in the manila folder against her chest.

  Cash nodded and pushed through the doorway, thumping his hand against the piece of crap security system on his way out. As he passed through the main drag of town, he swerved into the parking lot of Dwight’s place. Something about the night before still nagged at the back of his mind. He needed a distraction from the meeting at school, and checking up on the stranger with the bright-blue hair would do it.

  “Hey, Deputy.” Dwight strolled out of the open garage door, an oily rag in his pocket and a toothpick in the corner of his mouth.

  Cash had known him since they were kids. Dwight usually called him “Asshat” or something more along those lines. “Why the sudden respect? You do something illegal lately?”

  “Who, me?” Dwight popped the toothpick out and held it between two fingers. “Want to see something special?”

  “You haven’t been putting together any more moonshine stills, have you?”

  “One time. Damn, you gonna give me grief over that forever?”

  Cash grinned. That was more like it. “I might. What do you want to show me?”

  Dwight led the way into the garage where a gorgeous, sunshine-yellow, vintage motorcycle sat parked in the middle of the bay.

  “Who did you steal that from?” Cash ran his hand over the sleek lines of the bike, then straddled the seat. “Hi there, gorgeous.”

  “Nobody. That chick you dropped off last night had it. It’s a beaut, ain’t it?”

  Cash pulled his hand away as though the handlebars had burned him. The chick he’d dropped off last night? This bike belonged to Jinx? She looked like she couldn’t even afford clothes without holes in them.