Cowgirl Crazy (#2, Cowboy Way)

by Becky McGraw

  “Yes, he is my stepfather.” Saying those words left a bitter taste on his tongue, but Ryan pushed on because surely this man could tell him where the hell Clarence was. “What are the charges against him, and when will it go to trial?”

  “I’m afraid it won’t sir. You see we didn’t have next of kin information for Mr. James, so I’m glad you called…” There was a long pause and Ryan wanted to reach through the phone and choke the information out of the man, before he finally cleared his throat and said, “I regret to inform you that your stepfather was found hanged in his cell yesterday morning. The death seems suspicious in nature, so it is under investigation. If you give me your number, I’ll call you when we find out anything.” Ryan was too stunned to think, then his shock turned into elation so great he still couldn’t speak.

  “Mr. Easter, are you there?”

  Ryan finally caught his breath, and sucked in a deep lungful of sweet oxygen, then it came out on a whoop so loud his voice echoed off the living room walls. He pressed the button to disconnect the call, and yelled again. Twyla and Mary came running into the room to look at him like he’d lost his mind.

  He got choked up. “The Lord works in mysterious ways,” Ryan said his voice trembling.

  “Yes, He does. He improved your mood. That is a miracle for sure,” Twyla replied with a grin.

  Ryan saw the confusion on Mary’s face, and knew this wasn’t a conversation to have in front of her. He’d tell her later, but right now he needed to tell Twyla or bust. “Darlin’ can you run out and check to make sure Boney Pony has enough water? I thought the bucket was empty when I was out there earlier.”

  Mary hesitated a minute, but then she turned and walked to the front door. Once it closed, Ryan put his hands at Twyla’s waist and lifted her up. She put her hands on his shoulders and laughed as he spun her around and around.

  “Put me down and tell me what the hell has you so excited!” She protested, wiggling out of his grasp.

  He sat her down, then held her face in his hands. “Clarence James will never be bothering anyone else ever again. That bastard is dead, d-e-a-d, and may the devil take his evil ass. Someone gave him exactly what he deserved,” Ryan threw back his head and his laughter rang in his ears.

  When he finished laughing he was weak from it. He staggered to the sofa and sat down. “When are the boys coming over? I think this calls for a celebration. We need to build a bonfire and burn every stick of nasty furniture in this house, and his clothes. Ryan looked at Twyla again, felt his lips twitch and threw his head back against the sofa and laughed again. Fuck, everything in here. Burn the damned house, we’ll build another one.”

  “I think it will be therapeutic, don’t you?” Twyla asked with a smile, as she walked over to him. “Sleeping on the floor and all. I hear it’s good for your back. Maybe you should leave it at the furniture and clothes, because you won’t have a roof over your head.”

  Ryan grabbed her and pulled her down on his lap and wrapped his arms around her. “I’m never letting you go baby, you’re my good luck charm.”

  Twyla’s eyes glossed over and she looked away, but he didn’t miss the tremble in her chin. He grabbed it and turned her face back toward him. His smile fled and his eyebrows slammed down over his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  She didn’t respond, she just shook her head and got up off of his lap. Without a word, he watched her walk into the kitchen. Ryan got up to follow her in there. She was going to tell him what was wrong with her. She was leaning over the sink with her head bent, and he walked over to her and put his hands on her hips and his chin on her shoulder. “Tell me what’s wrong, Twy.”

  Suddenly, she turned in his arms and put her hands on his shoulders. “If you can’t figure it out, I’m not telling you. This one is for you to figure out, Ryan. I’ve given you enough clues. Ten-years-worth of clues,” Twyla squeezed out and ran into the living room. He saw her swipe his cell phone off the end table, before she ran toward the front door, leaving him standing there dumbfounded. He played back the previous minutes in his mind and their conversation, and what he’d said finally dawned on him.

  I’m never letting you go baby, you’re my good luck charm.

  Ryan blew out a breath, and laid his head on the back of the sofa. He didn’t want to let her go ever. When she wasn’t with him, he felt lost. Ryan Easter was in love with Twyla Taylor, no ifs, ands or buts about it. Had been for years. Twyla meant more to him than his next breath. And she loved him. She’d said so, over and over. Had shown him over and over what it could be like between them. And it was damned good.

  “So why the hell are you letting her go, dumbass?” he asked himself and sat up to put his forearms on his knees. He dropped his head and laced his fingers together. “Because her parents hate me now. Her brother hates me. Told me to stay away from them and her.”

  “When have you ever listened to anyone who told you what to do?” A chill raced down Ryan’s spine and he looked up to look around the empty room for the voice he’d just heard in his head. It wasn’t his own, it kind of sounded like his mother’s. The weirdest sensation floated over his skin, a quick buzzing over every nerve, and then it was gone.

  Ryan shoved up to his feet and looked over his shoulder as he almost sprinted toward the front door. He kept running toward the barn. Ryan didn’t stop until he spotted a shiny blonde head duck into a stall. He stopped at the barn door and cupped his hands to his mouth to shout, “Twyla Taylor! Get your beautiful ass out here, cowgirl. I have something to stay to you!”

  He was going to shout it to the world, just as soon as he found her. He thought for sure she would’ve come out when he yelled, but she didn’t. He walked into the barn and to the stall he’d seen her enter. Opening the door wider, he looked inside and saw Mary sitting on a bale of hay in the corner. Her head was bent and her shoulders shook.

  “Mary, what’s wrong?” Ryan asked walking inside to kneel beside her.

  “She’s gone,” she said on a whisper. Her hand shot out and she handed him his cell phone. “You made her leave, because you’re a dumb man. How can you not love her? Can’t you see how great she is? I love her!”

  “Where did she go, Mary?” he asked frantically, his heart sinking to his toes. “I am a dumb man, but I’m about to get a lot smarter, baby.”

  “Heather is picking her up down the road.”

  “Down the road!?!” he yelled and Mary flinched, covering her head with her hands.

  Ryan knelt back down beside her and pulled her trembling body to him. His voice shook as he said, “Mary, I will never hit you, or hurt you. I swear to you on our mother’s grave. That will never happen to you again as long as I live…I promise.”

  Heather was in Dallas. That was a three hour drive, so Twyla had a lot of walking to do, unless they arranged to meet somewhere. He could probably catch her walking on the main roads. “Do you know where they were meeting?”

  “She only said down the road,” she mumbled into his chest, then sniffed. He thought she was sniffing up her tears, but she sat back and said. “Do you smell smoke?”

  Ryan lifted up to sniff, and sure enough something was burning. He walked to the barn door and bright orange flames shot up through the roof through thick black smoke. The whole left side of the house was on fire. The side where the kitchen was located.

  “Oh my gosh, it’s the cookies!” Mary shouted as she sprinted past him out of the barn running toward the house.

  “Mary, no!” he yelled, running behind her. That little girl was track star fast as she pumped her arms in time with her colt-like legs that reminded him of Twyla’s. His feet stumbled, but he pushed on after her. “Mary, stop!”

  A sharp pain sliced through his side, but he ignored it. “Mary, please!” he yelled, as he focused on putting one foot in front of the other without putting one of those feet into the rutted holes pitting the path to the house. Mary seemed to be zoned in on the house though. As she reached the yard, a figure darted out and caugh
t her around the waist. They rolled several times, ending up under a shade tree near the house. Relief washed through Ryan as he staggered over to the tree and dropped to his knees.

  Twyla held Mary to her to her chest and rocked her as she cried, but she didn’t look at him. Ryan dragged in a breath finally, managed to croak, “Thank you.”

  “I wasn’t far down the road and I smelled the smoke and remembered I left the cookies in the oven. I’m so sorry, Ryan,” Twyla said in a shaky voice. “I didn’t mean to burn your house down. Did you call the fire department?”

  “Nope, not going to,” he replied with a smile, as he sat on his butt and propped his arm on his knee to watch.

  “Ryan, your house is burning down. Don’t you think you should call the fire department?” Twyla asked incredulously glancing back at the crackling pile of tinder that was the old farm house.

  “Nah, you were right, baby. This is therapeutic,” he said with a smile. He tilted his head up to watch the flames licking the eaves of the house, curling over to ignite more of the roof.

  More frantic, her voice rose an octave, as she repeated, “Ryan, have your lost your ever loving mind? Your house is on fire! It’s yours and Mary’s now. Call 9-1-1!”

  Ryan shrugged. “You’re not inside, I’m not inside and Mary isn’t inside. That’s all that matters. That house is not mine, it’s Clarence James house.” After a loud pop, and a lot of creaking, Ryan flinched when the roof collapsed sending sparks into the air. Ryan tsked, then his eyes glided to hers a he said, “You need to have faith that everything will work out just fine, baby.” Twyla had given him that faith with her quiet, steady support. “Too bad the boys are gonna miss the bonfire though.”

  Twyla, pushed Mary off of her lap and crawled over to him. She grabbed his chin and twisted his face to hers. “Who the hell are you?”

  Ryan leaned forward and kissed her. “I’m the man who loves you, sweetheart. You are all I need. Not this house, not the rodeo, nothing other than you. If I’ve got you, I’m the luckiest bastard on earth.” Ryan pushed the heartfelt words past the knot in his throat. “Today has been the best day of my life, baby. Thank you for coming back.”

  Twyla’s eyebrows slammed down over her eyes. “Good Lord, Ryan, I’m calling an ambulance, because something is wrong with you. Did you inhale smoke?”

  He laughed. “Are you asking me what I’m smoking, darlin’? Ryan’s lips twitched, and he threw his head back and laughed. “I’m just high on life.” He sobered and looked back at her. “You’ve given me a new lease on life, Twyla. I don’t know how this can possibly work out, because your family hates me now, but I’m going to try to make it work. I owe them an apology, and I just hope they’ll listen. I have faith, and you. That’s all I need.”

  A loud whoosh preceded a blast of heat, before the house that evil built collapsed inward and fell in upon itself. Ryan felt like the last vestiges of his anger and frustration collapse with it.

  Burn in hell, Clarence James, he thought, as Twyla put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed. He looked back at her. “I love you, Twyla Taylor.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I want to love you for the rest of my life, but we have a long row to hoe, sweetheart.”

  “Well, I’ve loved you half of my life. I evidently like hoeing,” she said with a smile against his lips. “We’ll get there together, after we figure out where you’re going to live now.”

  “Where we’re going to live,” he corrected, nipping her lower lip.

  Two weeks later, with the on and off help of Lucky, Coop, Tucker and a few more of their rodeo buddies, the remnants of what was Clarence James’ house had been razed. The boys had also driven to Dallas to drag Twyla and Ryan’s trailers back to Houston, and stopped by her apartment to grab Twyla’s stuff too. The trailers were their temporary home until he could figure out how he was going to build a replacement for them. They had joined them at the end, and cut a door between, so Mary would have her own space. It wasn’t comfortable, but it was home because Twyla and Mary were here with him.

  The ground was now cleared all the way to the back of the twenty acre tract, except for the ramshackle barn that was Boney Pony and Tango’s home for now. Ryan’s next hurdle turned his blood to ice water in his veins. Breaking that damned pony that Twyla promised Mary she could keep. That pony was a mean bastard. Definitely meaner than any of the broncs he’d ridden on the circuit. He’d almost rather buy her a horse, but he knew he couldn’t right now. And Tango was too hot for an inexperienced rider.

  And Boney Pony was too hot for him.

  With a groan, Ryan headed back to the barn where he saw Twyla and Mary feeding the pony carrots, stroking his forelock, spoiling the damned pony rotten. It was no wonder the animal was mean, the two girls coddled him terribly. And it wasn’t any wonder that the now fat black pony hated Ryan, because he didn’t.

  This would be his third try to get on Boney’s back. And this time he was going to do it. Either Ryan would be broken today, or that pony would. He was tired of messing around. When a professional saddle bronc rider couldn’t break a damned pony, it was a sad day. Today was a happy day. Every day had been happy since he finally found his balls and admitted his love to Twyla. Whatever happened at her parent’s house this weekend, Ryan had already told her he was not letting her go. He would keep trying to make peace with her family until it happened.

  And as soon as he managed that, Ryan was asking her daddy for her hand.

  Yeah, it was old-fashioned, but it was what Ryan felt was respectful. He owed Mr. Taylor a lot, and that’s how he was going to do things. If that man decided he wouldn’t forgive Ryan, he and Twyla would live out here in sin for the rest of their lives.

  And damned if he didn’t love sinning with that woman.

  His eyes landed on her delicious rear end in the faded jean shorts with the ragged fringe at the hem. Paired with her cowboy boots, she was just lickable. He wanted to push her into that old barn, find a haystack and make love to her until neither of them could walk.

  But he had things to do first. Riding that pony.

  Ryan walked into the barn and hefted Twyla’s saddle onto his shoulder, then walked back out to the catch pen. Twyla and Mary looked away from the pony to smile at him, Ryan could swear the pony bared his teeth, but not to smile. He wanted to sink those teeth into Ryan’s shoulder if he turned his back on him. His penny-colored eyes issued a challenge that Ryan was about to accept. He dropped the saddle and halter on the ground by the fence, so he could climb inside the pen. “Hand me the saddle,” he said and Twyla picked it up and hefted it over the fence.

  She handed him the halter and rope reins. “Ryan, honey, we can wait until next week to do this. I know your ankle is still sore.”

  “My ankle is fine. Me and this pony are coming to an understanding today.”

  “Don’t hurt Boney, Ry,” Mary said firmly crossing her arms over her chest.

  Don’t hurt Boney? Boney had kicked his ass three times now, and Mary hadn’t worried about him. The last time resulted in an almost-sprained ankle, and who had she run to when he was thrown? The damned pony.

  “You wanna ride this pony or not, kid?”

  “I want to ride him, but I don’t want you to hurt him,” she said sticking out her stubborn chin. The resemblance between Twyla and his little sister in both appearance and attitude was remarkable. Fate was a funny thing, saddling him with two difficult women to give him hell on a daily basis was just the ultimate twist. And his heart twisted in his chest. He wouldn’t have it any other way. He knew Mary would grow up to be just like Twyla. Strong and determined. That is exactly how he wanted her to be.

  Ryan hefted the saddle onto his shoulder again, then leaned over the top fence rail for a quick kiss from Twyla. “Wish me luck.”

  “I’m your lucky charm, so get your ass in the saddle. But don’t get hurt!”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said with a laugh and a tip of his hat.

  Ryan edged his way over to the
pony, and kept his eye on his hind legs, as he threw the saddle over his back. The pony shifted and stomped, snorted a few times, but didn’t throw the saddle off and run around the ring this time. Progress. He didn’t tie the saddle down yet, he just left it there for the pony to get used to it while he put on the halter, and clipped on the reins.

  “Remember he likes to hold in air,” Twyla said with a laugh, and Ryan frowned.

  “Oh, I remember.” The first attempt had ended with him under the pony’s belly and the two girls sitting on the ground outside of the fence laughing their butts off at him. Ryan secured the saddle, waited a minute, then slapped the horse’s belly. Boney neighed, swished his long tail to slap Ryan in the back, but his belly deflated.

  Ryan tested the saddle to ensure it was tight, then picked up the reins and led Boney to the center of the arena, so he didn’t try to brush him off against the fence rail like the last time. He didn’t want to give the pony the opportunity to finish the job of breaking his ankle.

  No, he was wise to all of this animal’s tricks now. Like stopping short and throwing him over his head, as in attempt number two, which ended up with him flat on his back in the dust with the horse staring down at him in victory. Ryan was the one who would be victorious today, and Mary was going to have a pony to ride.

  Ryan held the saddle, and put his foot in the stirrup, but he stopped to take a deep breath and compose himself. He knew as soon as his ass hit the saddle he better be ready to ride. Adrenaline surged through him, the same feeling he had when he rode wild broncs in the arena came over him, and Ryan hefted himself up. He threw his leg over Boney’s back, and like he expected, before he could get his foot in the right stirrup, the pony bucked, danced around from side to side, then squatted. Knowing his next move, Ryan’s legs tightened on his sides as he jumped. All four feet left the ground, then Ryan gritted his teeth against the jarring impact when they landed back on the ground.

  I’m riding you, bitch, he thought, as his fist tightened on the reins. Give me your best shot. My ass is glued in this saddle today. Ryan’s fist tightened on the reins as the pony headed for the rail at a sprint. Ut uh, not today he thought, turning him by bending his neck to the left. The pony ran along the rail, and Ryan held on for dear life. Surprisingly, he only kicked once on the second circuit, then on the third he snorted, and slowed his pace a little. Ryan patted the pony’s neck. “Good boy,” he said, and the horse snorted again and slowed to a walk.