Cowgirl Crazy (#2, Cowboy Way)

by Becky McGraw

  “Oh, yeah, I remember,” Ryan replied, rolling down the passenger side window of the truck so he could hear if she screamed. “Just don’t let him take it from you like I did. Stay back.” He wasn’t sold on this harebrained plan of Heather’s, but it looked like she wasn’t giving him much choice. He’d tried to tell her he could handle it just fine alone, but his words had fallen on deaf ears. Her response was it was either her way, or she was calling the police to let them know exactly where Jared Wilkins was staying.

  If she did that, Ryan wouldn’t have the chance to get his hands on the man before they hauled him off to jail. There was no way Ryan was going to let that happen. Ryan heard the quiet hum of the air conditioner inside the small Airstream trailer. “And make sure you’re not downwind of the air conditioner, or you’ll wind up with a noseful of it too.”

  “Yes, daddy,” Heather replied with a snort, as she opened the door of the truck. She looked back at him one last time. “If you hear him screaming, just stay where you are. I have a few things to teach Mr. Wilkins, before I give you what’s left.”

  “Just do what you’re gonna do, and call me.”

  She laughed as she hopped to the ground, then shut the door. Ryan watched Heather stop to jerk her short top down further, and push her breasts up into more cleavage, and just shook his head. She stuffed the can of mace into her pocket and wiped hands on her very short shorts, before walking up to the trailer door to knock. Ryan ducked down below the dash, so Wilkins wouldn’t see him when he opened the door. He just hoped Heather could convince him to leave the door open so he could hear.

  Ryan waited until he thought she was inside then took a peek over the dash. Sitting upright, he tuned his ears into the faint words of the conversation going on inside the trailer.

  “Hey, honey. I saw you at the Rooster last night. Why didn’t you stick around to talk to me? I saw you leave with Twyla and was a little jealous,” Heather purred, and Ryan could imagine her raking her fingernail down his chest. Don’t get too close darlin’, he thought, his fists clenching. “Did you come to hear me sing?”

  “Yeah, I have someone interested in signing you. But I think I need a little more convincing, before I recommend you.”

  “Well, I have another gig set up for next weekend. You could come see me,” Heather said, ignoring the slimy undertone in Jared Wilkin’s words that Ryan heard clearly. The convincing Wilkins wanted involved her with her knees beside her ears. Anger made him almost light headed, as Ryan’s hand shot to the door handle.

  “I had a little something else in mind, beautiful,” Wilkins drawled, and there was silence for a second.

  “Get your damned hands off of me!” Heather yelled loudly. Ryan opened the truck door, ready to run in there and beat the ever living shit out of that slimy bastard, but then he heard a grunt, a loud squeal, followed by loud moans and another grunt or two.

  From the sound of it, if Ryan didn’t get in there, there wouldn’t be anything left for him. It sounded like Heather was killing the bastard. The trailer actually rocked a few times, before she appeared at the door grinning widely to wave him inside.

  Ryan held back a laugh as he jogged to the door. “Help! He assaulted me, and I think he’s getting up again,” Heather said in a distressed voice, followed by a chuckle.

  She moved aside so Ryan could enter the nasty trailer. It smelled like sex and stale beer. A perfect combination to inflame Ryan to the point of murdering the bastard.

  He walked over to the built-in table and jerked Wilkins to his feet. The man moved his hands from his eyes to push on Ryan’s chest, giving him the perfect opening to plant his fist in the man’s face. Ryan jerked him up again, then spun him around to hold him against the wall, while he landed blow after blow. With every punch he landed, every pained grunt he made, Ryan’s anger inched down a notch.

  Before he knocked him unconscious though, which seemed to be very close, Ryan wanted to let the man know exactly what the beating was for. Holding Wilkins up by the throat, Ryan kept him on his feet against the wall. “If you ever get the urge to do to another woman what you did to the one I love, you remember this,” Ryan growled, before he landed a quick, but deadly punch to Jared Wilkin’s nose. He heard a sickening crunch, and the man’s body went limp.

  Ryan eased his grip on the bastard’s throat and let his body slide down the wall to the ground. His head lolled over to rest on his chest, and his nose bled profusely. Ryan’s adrenaline finally cleared a little, and a dull pain shot through his ribs. He grabbed them, and looked at Heather, who was leaning in the doorway with her nose stuck out into the fresh air. He needed some fresh air too.

  “Although, I’d like to leave the bastard here to bleed to death, call the police and an ambulance.” Ryan stopped to grab a towel off the counter. He wiped his bloody knuckles, and then threw it in the tiny sink.

  “Okay,” Heather said pushing off to walk down the two steps. Ryan followed behind her, and stood by the front of the truck, while she made the call. Once it was done, she walked around to lean beside him on the truck. “So you love Twyla, huh?”

  “Doesn’t matter if I do or don’t. Her family hates me now, and she probably does too,” he said pushing away from the truck. He took one step back toward the trailer when he heard his ring tone. He spun back toward Heather, who was staring at the screen of his phone, which was in her hand. “Says, mom,” she said with a curious smile, as she held it out to him.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Ryan ran over and snatched the phone from Heather’s hand. His hand shook as he fumbled for the talk button, and his heart pounded in his chest. Something had to have happened, and whatever it was it probably wasn’t good.

  “Mom?” he said around the knot in his throat.

  “No, this is Montgomery County Hospital. Is this Ryan Easter?”

  After a dull thud in his chest, Ryan’s heart sank to his toes and settled there. “Yes, ma’am, this is he,” Ryan replied breathlessly.

  “Sir, I need you to come here as soon as possible. We have your mother here and need to talk to her next of kin. We found your number in her cell phone.”

  The rage he’d just moved beyond by pummeling Jared Wilkins came right back, bigger and brighter than it had been before. This had to have something to do with the bastard who was his stepfather. If it didn’t, Clarence James would be there with her and they wouldn’t be calling him.

  “Is my stepfather there?”

  “Um, uh, no sir,” the nurse replied hesitantly. “How long will it be before you get here?”

  “I’m up by Dallas, so probably several hours, but I’m on my way.”

  “The sooner the better, please.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Ryan said, hanging up the phone with the sick feeling in his gut telling him whatever he found at that hospital wasn’t going to be good. The bastard had finally done it. He’d killed Ryan’s mother. A tremor rocked through him, and Ryan grabbed the truck as his knees went weak.

  “Hey, what’s wrong?” Heather asked, putting a hand on his arm.

  “My mom is bad off and I have to get to Houston. Can you take me to get my truck?”

  “Where is it?” Heather asked, sliding her hand to his back when his knees tried to buckle again.

  “I don’t’ know.” Right now Ryan didn’t know much of anything, other than round two of his shitty day was about to begin. And his stepfather was likely to end up worse off than Jared Wilkins before this day ended.

  “What do you mean you don’t know?”

  “The hospital had it towed, and I don’t know where it is.” Ryan swung his gaze to hers, as desperation gathered inside him. “I’ve got to get to Houston.”

  “I can take you, but we really should wait for the police,” Heather said.

  Just that quick, Ryan had forgotten about the police that were on their way. His priority, his whole life had shifted with one phone call.

  “I’ve got to get to Houston,” he repeated, scrolling through his phone loo
king for a number to a cab company. “I’ll call a cab or—” Ryan looked up when he heard tires squealing on asphalt. As if things couldn’t get worse, Zack’s pickup slid to a stop beside Heather’s and before it even stopped, he flew out of the door and ran full out toward Ryan.

  The look on his face said that Ryan was about to join his mother in Heaven very shortly. Right now, that might be the best place for him. It was a lot better than the hell of this reality. With a deep sigh, Ryan handed his phone to Heather, waiting for it.

  Sirens blared in the distance, just as Zack took a flying leap at him. The impact jarred his teeth, then Zack landed on top of him on the ground. Ryan lost his breath, as his bruised ribs crushed inward. Zack landed a blow to his chin that stunned him. Ryan sucked in a breath finally, and gathered his strength to push upward and roll Zack under him. He wasn’t going to hit him, but he did try to hold him down. That didn’t work long, Ryan saw the world spin as Zack rolled him again, and delivered another blow to his jaw.

  Ryan lifted his arms to shield his face, just as another punch landed. At least it landed on his forearm instead of his just now healing eye. Or worse his barely healed nose. “Stop it, Zack!” he growled.

  “Stop hell, I’m just getting started, asshole!” Zack shouted and tried to pry Ryan’s arms from his face.

  "Zack, get your ass off of him!" Heather shouted. Over the blood pounding in his ears, Ryan heard loud sirens, tires on gravel, then running feet.

  “Step back ma’am,” a firm authoritative voice, that could only belong to a cop, said.

  “You two turn over on your bellies and put your hands over your heads. Now.”

  Breathing hard, Zack shot him a glare then slid off of him. Ryan rolled, and groaned as a shot of pain sliced through his ribcage. He spread his hands over his head and waited for the cold steel bracelets he knew were coming.

  Fuck this was not what he needed right now. His mother was in a hospital and he was going to jail. He could feel the tension in the arm that jerked his up behind his back, before the cold metal touched his skin. It looked like he and Heather’s plan had worked perfectly, but they hadn’t figured on one thing. Zack showing up at exactly the wrong time to throw a wrench into things.

  “Which one of these two assaulted you ma’am?” the policeman asked as he jerked Ryan up to his feet.

  “Neither of them. The guy in the trailer assaulted me.”

  “Another one?” The cop asked with a groan. “Looks like y’all are all going to jail until we figure this out.” He pushed Ryan toward his squad car, and he stumbled. He glanced back and saw Zack being pushed toward another car, as the ambulance pulled up and skidded to a stop in front of the trailer.

  The cop turned him sideways and Ryan stepped in, as the cop pushed the top of his head down to shove him inside. Ryan got settled and the door shut. Through the tempered glass, he saw Heather talking to one of the cops with her hands waving and her neck rocking. He wouldn’t be surprised if the mouthy brunette wound up in a cell beside his. The cop she was talking to didn’t look too happy.

  Ryan groaned and laid his head against the seat to close his eyes. This was a nightmare. It had to be. Nobody could have a day like this. He needed to find out how Twyla was doing, if they were going to release her from the hospital. But that wasn’t his business now. Her daddy wasn’t going to let him see her again. He needed to focus on getting his ass out of jail and getting to Houston for his mother. But he didn’t even have his wallet to bail himself out. It was in the truck they towed. He was screwed and would probably be spending the night in jail at least.

  Frustration built inside of him, and Ryan fought the burning behind his eyelids. All he could do is go along for the ride on this runaway train. He wasn’t in control. He could only roll with the punches, and deal with what he could control. Right now that was keeping himself from bawling like a baby, and feeling sorry for himself. That wasn’t going to get him anywhere.

  The cop who’d stuffed him in the car finally got into the front seat. With a glance at him in the mirror he cranked the car, mumbled something into the radio, then Ryan was on his way to the pokey. As they pulled out he saw the medics carrying Jared Wilkins out of the trailer on a stretcher. The man still didn’t seem to be moving, and Ryan prayed he was just hurt, and that in his rage he hadn’t killed the slimy bastard. If he was dead, Ryan had no hope of getting out of jail anytime soon. He’d probably be spending the rest of his life in prison.

  Please don’t let him be dead.

  ***

  Twyla had just settled on the loveseat with a sandwich and a soda, when loud knocking came at her door. If it was the landlord she had a few things to say to that man. She was not going to pay him two-hundred dollars a week for a place that smelled like a ferret. He was going to clean her damned carpet. After her fallout with her parents, when they saw how and where she was living, she was primed for it. Because of it, her daddy tried to force her back to the ranch, had actually started pulling her clothes out of her closet, when her mother finally stopped him.

  Thank God, her mother had a little sense and at least she realized Twyla was a grown woman. It had taken both of them to get her father back in his truck, so they could leave. Twyla hadn’t been in any shape to deal with that, and she still wasn’t. There wasn’t a damn soul she wanted to see right now. Not Ryan, certainly not Zack or her parents.

  Twyla just wanted to be left alone.

  That damned interrogation the police had put her through before she left the hospital had taken every ounce of energy she had left. She couldn’t handle anything else right now. All she wanted was this sandwich, a nap and a little peace. Whoever was at the door could just go away. She was not answering that door.

  The knocking continued, so Twyla reached for the remote for the new television her daddy had brought back as a peace offering. She turned the volume up as far as it would go, then tossed the remote on the table. She imagined her mother was behind that gift, but she was thankful to whomever decided to get it for her. At least now she’d have something to do other than watch the wallpaper at the corner of the kitchenette slowly peel away from the wall.

  Twyla didn’t hear the knocking any more now, but she imagined the people in the house next door would complain to the landlord about the Jerry Springer free-for-all blaring from her apartment. Jerry Springer had nothing on her life lately though. The show that usually made her feel better about her own life, was making her want to cry today.

  Her life was such a damned mess. Twyla had no idea how she was going to fix things either. She was out of the dancing business, out of the shooting business too for at least two weeks. Two weeks of no income would mean she’d probably be kicked out of this nasty little apartment. Then her life would really be at rock bottom.

  Who got kicked out of an apartment like this?

  Someone who should be on the Jerry Springer show, instead of sitting here watching it on the television. Maybe she could pawn the new TV to get through this week at least. Her rent was due on Friday. She’d just have a Jerry Springer-fest until then.

  God she was bored already. And to make matters worse, she discovered after she got home she was freaking out of Twinkies. Hell, the next two weeks were going to be sheer hell.

  The window beside the door rattled from the knocking now. With a sigh, Twyla sat her sandwich plate on the end table and walked to the door. Twyla glanced out the window and saw it was Heather on her doorstep. She flipped the locks and swung the door inward.

  “I’m getting damned tired of standing on your doorstep while you ignore me,” Heather grated as she pushed her way inside. “I went to the hospital and you were discharged already. I figured you’d be here.”

  Twyla snorted, and walked back to the sofa. She picked up her sandwich and sat down. “I wouldn’t be here if my parents had their way. They tried to drag me back home,” she said then took a big bite of her sandwich.

  “Well it’s a good thing you’re here. I need help untangling the d
amned mess your brother and Ryan have gotten themselves into.”

  Twyla stopped with the sandwich halfway to her mouth. “What do they have to do with me? What they do or who they do it with is not my problem. They can untangle their own messes from here on out. I’m looking out for me from now on,” Twyla informed, lifting her chin. She dragged her eyes back to her sandwich, and took another bite then chewed it angrily.

  “Turn down that damned TV!” Heather shouted, grabbing the remote, before Twyla could. She pressed the off button, then threw it back down “You have enough of your own drama going on. You don’t need to watch that crap. And now I’m right in the middle of it, thank you so much.”

  “What do you mean?” Twyla asked angrily. “It was pretty damned peaceful until you got here.” Finally peaceful. Boring as shit, but peaceful. Twyla took another nibble off the corner of her sandwich. She was not going to let herself get upset again.

  “Your brother and Ryan are in jail. Are you sitting here telling me you don’t give a shit?”

  The bite of sandwich turned to sawdust in Twyla’s mouth. She grabbed her soda and took a long drink. “In jail?” she asked incredulously.

  “Yeah, I just thought you’d want to know. But if you don’t care, I sure as heck don’t. I’ll just be going,” Heather replied shortly, as she turned to walk back toward the door.

  “Wait!” Twyla yelled and left her sandwich on the sofa to follow Heather.

  Heather stopped at the door, and turned back toward her with her arms folded over her chest. “What? I have things to do.”

  “What happened?” Twyla’s voice shook, because she just couldn’t maintain her front any longer. Especially when both Ryan and her brother were in jail. Probably because they’d been fighting over her. But that wasn’t her fault. They were grown men, stupid, but grown. Way past the age they should be fighting over anything. But secretly she hoped Zack got a few good blows in, because Ryan deserved everything he got for telling her parents what he had.