Rocky Mountain Cowboy

by S A Monk

  “So, what in the hell is going on between you and the half-breed?”

  “Peter, why are you using these racial slurs? I never figured you for a racist.”

  “That’s what he is, according to Brad Caldwell, half-white, half-Indian,” he defended stubbornly.

  “Just because Caldwell calls him that doesn’t make it right, Peter. I thought I knew you to be fairer than that.”

  “He’s an interloper, Jenny.”

  “He was my father’s legal business partner.”

  “Legal maybe, but not ethical.”

  Jenny sighed tiredly, and moved back to the fireplace and its warmth. “I’m not having this conversation with you tonight, Peter.”

  “Then at least tell me what he was doing in your bed,” he demanded.

  “Nothing— nothing at all.”

  “Bullshit!”

  “It wasn’t sexual, Peter,” she tried to explain. “I had a nightmare about Daddy…”

  “And Stud Galahad just happened to wake you from your dreams and fall into bed with you?”

  That nightmare about her dad had opened all the floodgates she’d been trying to hold at bay. She remembered most of last night, especially crying her heart out in Hawk’s arms. And she knew she had asked him to stay. He understood her grief, the loss she’d suffered. He had suffered it, too. His physical and emotional strength alleviated the despair, the emptiness she felt. She found relief in his compassion. He made her feel less lost. Beyond that, she wasn’t going to analyze last night too deeply. The scene in front of his girlfriend was extremely embarrassing, though. She hoped she hadn’t made too much trouble for him. She wondered if she should talk to Cindy Caldwell, but what would she say to her if she did? The mutual grief Jenny and Hawk shared was a private thing. She wasn’t going to let Peter turn it into something it wasn’t.

  “I was a mess after the funeral,” she elaborated. “Not that you noticed. You haven’t been around.”

  Peter managed to look guilty for a second, then grew angry again. “So, you hop into bed with the hired help?”

  “Dammit, Peter! I just explained what happened, and Hawk is not the hired help. It’s over. Just let it go.”

  “What did Cindy Caldwell and I just walk in on, then? You were in the guy’s arms.”

  “I was upset! We had been talking about Daddy, wondering if he knew before his attack about his bad heart. He made a will a month ago. He must have known— he must have.”

  “More likely Mr. John Red Skin Larson knew Tom was dying and played his cards right, so he’d end up with the whole ranch. Now, all he has to do is seduce you so you won’t make any protests. He’s using your grief as a means of controlling you.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Peter, that’s absolutely ridiculous! Daddy would never have done business with the man you’re describing! And its Red Hawk, not Red Skin,” she corrected angrily. “Stop being insulting.”

  “Tom was old and ill, Jenny. Old people get taken advantage of all the time.”

  “My father was not old and incapable,” she amended. “He was a very intelligent man, and he treated Mr. Larson like a son, loved him like a son. They knew each other for over twenty years.”

  “So, how is your interest protected? Or do you even have an interest?” Peter grilled her as if she already had all the answers. “And where does all this leave us, Jen? What about our business?”

  Jenny had no answers, didn’t even know what questions she had, and was definitely in no frame of mind to come up with any this evening. The will, the status of the ranch, even her plans for tomorrow were simply too much to cope with a day after burying her father.

  “I don’t know, Peter! I just haven’t thought about anything, except....”

  “Mason, drop it— now.”

  The quiet, steel-edged voice came from the front entryway. Jenny spun around to see Hawk closing the door. Apparently Cindy Caldwell had just left. As he walked into the room, Peter turned to face him belligerently.

  “I say we discuss this. Get your cards out on the table, Larson.”

  “And I say you’ve done enough talking about things you know nothing about. It doesn’t look to me as if Jenny needs this tonight. The attorney will be by tomorrow. That’s soon enough.”

  Both men were now standing angrily within a few feet of one another, and Jenny did not want a fight to erupt between them. “Peter, Mr. Larson asked you to drop it, and I’m asking you to drop it for now. We’ll talk about our future later, after tomorrow night. I’m tired. I’m going to bed, and I’d like you to go, too. None of us need this hassle right now.” When he failed to respond, she saw Hawk move closer. “Please, Peter.”

  Glaring at Hawk, then looking at her, he finally relented with an angrily muttered “Fine,” and headed up the stairway. When he was gone, Jenny turned to Hawk.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Larson.”

  He gave her a brief smile. “Jenny, call me Hawk— please.” He emphasized the please with a broader smile, a smile she had to respond to.

  “Okay, from now on its Hawk.” She moved closer to him. “I’d be happy to explain to your girlfriend about last night, Hawk. She looked pretty upset.”

  “She’s not my girlfriend. And I took care of things. It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” Jenny nodded, then turned

  toward the stairs. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

  CHAPTER 5

  Shopping was interesting; an unexpected relief, for a few hours, from the crippling heartache. The ride into town was very different from the one two days ago . The rain left everything glistening and sparkling beneath a clear blue sky and bright sun. The storm had finally passed, and late summer returned to the high Rocky Mountain valley with lazy splendor. The mountains and national forest that enclosed the valley were spectacularly brilliant today, lush and green, with craggy bare tops peeking above the tree lines, shadowed in places by the big fluffy white clouds floating over them.

  A good highway circled the valley, connecting it to the bigger metropolitan area of Colorado Springs, several hours away to the east. To the northwest lay Leadville, the legendary mining town, and to the northeast, Denver. There were towns at either end of the valley, both larger than the smaller ones that were scattered here and there, some no more than a few buildings and a postal stop.

  Homes with smaller acreage dotted the valley, many along the rushing headwaters of the Arkansas River that bisected the valley. In between, there were lots of cattle ranches, similar in size to her father’s. At this time of the year, most of the cattle herds were still up in the mountains grazing on federal lease land. In the next few weeks, before the snow hit, they’d be brought down to spend the winter closer to home.

  Jenny had nearly forgotten the awe-inspiring magnificence of it all. Here, there were no freeways, bisecting and trisecting one another, spinning off into endless loops and directions of even more endless noise and traffic. Life was slower, quieter, infinitely more peaceful. If it became too difficult, one only had to look up at the timeless durability of the granite monoliths surrounding the valley. Millenniums of timelessness. The soul was nourished here, and Jenny felt hers stir a little. This day, home almost felt welcoming. Maybe, she thought on the ride into town, there was a possibility here, after all.

  They had a quick lunch at a fast food place, then drove to a small neatly landscaped house on the far side of town, where they dropped off Eli to visit a friend. From the cab of Hawk’s truck, Jenny watched an older woman open the door and invite Eli inside.

  “Who is this he’s visiting?” she asked Hawk.

  “Someone he’s been seeing for the last year.”

  “Really!” Jenny laughed. “I guess you’re never too old for a little romance.”

  “Or a little something.”

  Jenny looked at him, then at the house, then back at him. “No way!”

  “More than likely, from what Hank says.”

  She had to laugh again.

  Downtown, they w
ent to a Western wear store. Jenny shopped, while Hawk watched and advised. She picked out several things, tried them on, then modeled for him, at his request. She’d never shopped for clothes with a man before. It was a totally unique and fascinating experience. She actually enjoyed listening to him give his opinion. He surprised her with his good taste, his eye for quality. She supposed he enjoyed watching her turn and strut for him. Definitely an interesting interlude.

  The whole adventure turned into the little bit of fun she suspected they both needed.

  At Hawk’s suggestion, she picked out several long sleeved chambray shirts, with pearl snaps no less, several pair of boot-leg jeans that did actually bend, a denim jacket, a short red down-filled parka, boots, and a hat.

  The latter was the most fun to select. She finally settled on a chocolate brown felt cowboy hat with a cattleman’s crease and a wide brim. It was adorned with a dark red band of braided leather, a small matching bow, and a little white feather wedged between the band and bow. She adored it, and apparently so did Hawk the way he stared at her when she modeled it for him after getting the rim steamed and shaped just the way she wanted it.

  The boots were a tougher decision. She tried on a dozen pair of real cowboy boots; none of the high-fashion imitations, before she settled on a tooled dark red pair. Of course, she wasn’t looking forward to breaking them in, but Hawk promised to show her a few tricks to soften them up.

  The hat and boots definitely made her feel as if she had come home.

  Just when she thought she’d gotten everything, Hawk had the clerk show her several pairs of cowhide working gloves. From a wide selection of colors, she chose a dark red pair to match her boots and the braid on her new hat, marveling at how soft and supple they felt. The last thing Hawk insisted she get was a long rain slicker. Split high up the back for riding, it was surprisingly comfortable, and guaranteed water repellant. When she tried it on and looked at herself in the full length mirror, she laughed.

  “I look like Sharon Stone in The Quick and the Dead,” she told Hawk, adopting a wide legged stance before the mirror and shoving her long coat back like she was going to draw the imaginary gun at her hip. “Give me a six shooter and I’m ready.”

  Hawk raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Ready for what?”

  “For the bad guys, of course,” she laughed. “It’s one of my favorite western movies. Haven’t you ever seen it? It’s about a woman gunslinger that goes after the man who hung her father.”

  Hawk shook his head no, and she promised to rent the video for him while she was home.

  When they took all her selections to the cashier, Jenny pulled out her credit card, but Hawk had her put it away. “We’ll put it all on the ranch’s account,” he told the clerk. “This is all business related,” he told Jenny.

  It reminded her that when the attorney for the ranch came over tonight, they were finally going to have to discuss business. She wasn’t looking forward to it.

  The next stop was the grocery store. Jenny pushed the basket up and down the aisles, while Hawk filled his grocery list, asking her along the way if there was anything she needed or wanted. She added a few personal items while she marveled at his efficiency. Of course he’d been a bachelor for a long time, so she guessed if he wanted to eat, he needed to shop and cook. He told her that he and Tom had shared the chore with Eli.

  Apparently, he also had a budget, and when they went to check out, she noted that he had stayed within it. So, he was a good planner, too. It was another interesting discovery— the man had good domestic talents that he didn’t feel were beneath him to perform.

  In the parking lot, they were loading the boxes of groceries into the bed of his pick-up when a man and a woman came up to them. Jenny recognized them from the funeral and remembered they were both good friends of Hawk. They had told her how sorry they were about her dad, and she’d had the feeling they’d both known him well. But she’d forgotten their names, so Hawk reintroduced them to her—Scott Richards and Becky Parsons. Jenny learned they were engaged, soon to be married, and Hawk was going to be their best man.

  Scott was as tall as Hawk, with light brown hair that was currently covered with a black Stetson. He told her that he had a small cattle ranch in the valley, not too far the Bar F/Bar L. Being close neighbors, he went on to explain, meant he and Hawk and Tom had always helped each other out when any of them needed an extra hand.

  The two men moved into a conversation about the up-coming fall round up.

  “I can give you a week,” he told Hawk. “Gotta be done for the wedding, though— both of us, or Becky will string us up for sure.”

  “You got that right,” she concurred, jabbing her fiancé in the ribs with a laugh. “If either one of you is late or missing, I’ll come find you with a shotgun.” Becky was Jenny’s age, petite, slender, and very pretty. She looked like a very thrilled bride-to-be. There was a glow about her that Jenny envied. “You’re invited, of course,” she said to her warmly. “In fact, some friends are giving me a wedding shower next month, and I’d love for you to come.”

  “If I’m still here, I’d love to,” Jenny found herself saying with genuine pleasure.

  “I’ll have my maid of honor send you an invitation. Maybe we could even have lunch together before that. I understand you were born here. We might have some mutual friends.”

  Feeling an immediate connection with the little brunette, Jenny copied her phone number to her cell and promised to call her with a date for lunch before she left. After the couple left, Hawk had Jenny help him cover the groceries with a tarp, then strap them down for the drive home.

  “Scott and I have been friends since junior high school,” Hawk said after they climbed into the cab of his truck. “We were partners in petty crime,” he added with a reminiscent laugh. “Until your dad straightened us both out and got us involved in other things. Scott didn’t have a dad growing up, so Tom ended up being a substitute dad for him, too. When we got out of high school, Scott and I traveled the rodeo circuit together. We started out bull riding, and ended up team calf roping. By the time we quit, Scott had enough for a down payment on his ranch. He does pretty well, considering the times. Tom helped him out with some stock.”

  “I think my dad must have helped a lot of people in some way. He had so many friends at the funeral.”

  “Your dad was an exceptional man. He sure as hell saved my sorry ass. I figure I would have ended up in juvenile hall for sure without him. “

  “Yeah, Daddy was one of a kind.” The pain hit hard and fast. But, for a while, it had abated, and once again the cowboy beside her was the reason.

  By the time they reached the little house where they had left Eli, he was sitting on the front porch with his female friend, waiting for them. After he got into the truck, Hawk told them he had one more stop to make before heading home— a quick trip to the bank to make a deposit and drop off a mortgage payment.

  Jenny and Eli stayed in the truck while he went inside. Fifteen minutes later, he was leaving just as Brad Caldwell was walking into the building. Jenny watched as the two men stopped to speak to one another. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but within a few minutes they were exchanging heated words, their voices raised just enough for her to tell that they were arguing.

  “What’s that all about?” she asked Eli, who was also watching the exchange, scowling.

  “Don’t rightly know this time, but there’s been trouble between them two for a long, long time. They never have gotten along. It’s gotten worse the past six months.”

  “What kind of trouble?” She’d felt trouble at the funeral. Right now that trouble looked serious. Hawk was barely containing his fury, and Mr. Caldwell seemed to be enjoying the reaction.

  “It started when Hawk went to live with the Caldwells. After Hawk lost his mom, he went from one foster home to another. He ran away a lot, skipped school, got into some minor trouble with the law, and ended up in Judge George Caldwell’s juvenile court. Brad’s d
ad gave him two choices. He could go to the boy’s ranch north of here or go live with him. Obviously, Hawk didn’t want to go to the juvenile detention facility. Old man Caldwell had other boys he had taken in at his ranch. I suspect it was more a matter of free labor rather than compassion that motivated the judge.

  “All those foster kids never set too well with his own kids, I hear. Brad didn’t like Hawk, in particular. They used to get into it a lot— lots of fisticuffs, knives once in the while. I remember Hawk coming over pretty bruised and cut up a few times. He became a pretty tough kid while he was there. After your mom took you away, Tom asked George to let him take Hawk in. Personally, I think your dad put a little pressure on his high and mighty neighbor.”

  “In what way?” Jenny knew very little of what Eli was telling her. Years ago, her dad had simply told her Hawk had needed a mentor and a safe harbor.

  “Judge Caldwell was using his juvenile court to staff his ranch, and some of the kids were getting a little too beaten up working for him.”

  “He was abusing them?”

  “That was never said, but Tom believed he was staging fights between the boys to toughen ‘em up, or some such load of bull. Judge Caldwell was an asshole.”

  “That’s terrible!”

  “Yeah— your dad didn’t like it, either. He helped Hawk get out of there, then threatened to go to the authorities if George didn’t stop using the boys that came through his juvenile court that way.”

  “So what’s the problem now?”

  Eli stared out the front window of the truck at Hawk and Brad. “Been some problems at the ranch lately, and Hawk thinks Brad has something to do with them.”

  “Problems? What kind of problems?” Tom hadn’t ever mentioned problems.

  “The kind that cost money and time,” Eli gave her a grimace. “Hell, honey, you need to talk to Hawk ‘bout this. I’m not the one to tell ya.”