A Cowboy's Redemption

by Marin Thomas

  She spun toward the barn doors.

  “Sara,” he called after her.

  “What?”

  “I mean it.”

  Her smile tugged a groan from him. After she left, he sucked in a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. It hadn’t taken much for her to sway him to stay. He felt safe in Papago Springs and even though it was only hours from the prison, it felt like a million miles.

  When he’d first arrived, he’d wanted to be left alone to do his work, but Dani’s sweet personality, Sara’s kindness and even José’s quiet presence had begun filling the hole inside him—an emptiness he’d thought he was immune to but wasn’t. Sara’s sunny smile and Dani’s laughter made him feel as if he were home and that surprised the heck out of him, because not even his mother had made his childhood house feel like a home. His real home had been wherever he’d hung out with his homies—street corners, abandoned buildings and salvage yards.

  Papago Springs felt like home.

  As long as he remembered the fairy tale had to end.

  Nothing good lasted forever.

  Chapter Eight

  “Looks like you landed in a good place.” Riley Fitzgerald offered Cruz his hand.

  Surprised by his former mentor’s appearance, Cruz was momentarily speechless.

  “I’m Dani. Who are you?”

  “Hello, Miss Dani.” Fitzgerald tipped his hat to the little girl. “I’m Mr. Fitzgerald. I’m friends with Mr. Rivera.”

  Dani squinted up at Cruz. “Who’s Mr. Rivera?”

  “Me,” Cruz said.

  “Oh.” Dani inched closer to Cruz and Fitzgerald quirked an eyebrow.

  “Dani is José’s granddaughter.”

  “My mom’s name is Sara,” Dani said.

  Cruz looked at Dani. “Why don’t you go inside and see if your mother needs help.”

  “But I was helping you,” she said.

  “We’re almost done here.”

  She stuck out her lower lip, then spun and marched to the house.

  “Spirited little thing,” Fitzgerald said.

  “She’s a good kid.”

  “What’s the story with these people?”

  “Dani’s father passed away a while ago and Sara’s been trying to convince her father-in-law to move to Albuquerque and live with them.”

  Fitzgerald glanced around. “Looks like you’re fixing up the place.”

  “Sara hopes to sell or rent the barn and land before they return to the city.”

  “Are you getting paid?”

  Cruz nodded. “How did you find me?” Not that he’d intentionally tried to hide from people.

  “You created quite a stir this past weekend in Alamogordo.”

  The rodeo gossips were probably having a field day.

  “I heard you made it to eight and then some on Nobody’s Business.”

  “The judges didn’t think my ride warranted more than a seventy-nine.”

  Fitzgerald shook his head. “You planning to compete again?”

  “The letter from Shorty...” Cruz swallowed hard. It was tough to believe the old man wasn’t here anymore.

  “He died of a heart attack in his sleep.”

  “At the Gateway Ranch?” Cruz asked.

  “Yep. He had no family, so Maria had his body brought to our ranch and we buried him there.”

  “He’d like that.” It occurred to Cruz that he ought to ask about his mentor’s wife. “How’s Maria?”

  “Busy with the twins.”

  Cruz had forgotten that his former teacher and her husband had twin sons. “How old are the boys now?”

  “Clint and Wes turned seven this past May.”

  Cruz smiled. “I bet they’re a handful.”

  “They are.” Fitzgerald took off his hat and twirled it on his finger. “I tracked you down for a couple of reasons. First, I thought you might be ready to take on a full-time job, but it appears you’ve already put roots down.”

  “There’s nothing going on between me and Sara. As soon as I repair the barn, I’m heading out.” And Sara, Dani and José would leave for Albuquerque.

  “I also stopped in because Victor contacted me and asked how you were. I assumed you’d have spoken with him by now.”

  Cruz still struggled with his feelings toward his former best friend and didn’t know how to answer Fitzgerald, so he asked, “What’s Vic up to?”

  Fitzgerald pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Cruz. “That’s his number. Call him and find out.”

  He shoved the note into his pocket, sure it would stay there for a long while.

  “If this doesn’t work out—” Fitzgerald waved his hand “—you’ve got a job waiting for you at the ranch.”

  Cruz already knew this wasn’t going to work out.

  “Maria would love to see you again.”

  He figured his teacher was the real reason behind Fitzgerald’s visit. Maria Alvarez Fitzgerald had saved Cruz from joining a gang only to lose him to prison anyway. She’d done so much for him and he’d let her down. Right now he didn’t have the courage to look her in the eye. “I’ll keep the job in mind.”

  Fitzgerald set his hat on his head. “Cruz?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Don’t disappoint Maria.”

  The words struck Cruz like a fist across the chin, and he swayed.

  “I won’t. You have my word.”

  “Good.” Fitzgerald pulled out a wad of hundred-dollar bills from his pocket. “Take this. You never know when you might need a little extra cash.”

  There had to be at least a thousand dollars in rolled-up bills. Yeah, the money would come in handy but Fitzgerald had already done enough for him. “Thanks, but I’m good.”

  “Maria doesn’t want you sleeping on the streets.”

  “I’m not.” He motioned to the trailer. “I’ve got a bed.”

  Fitzgerald frowned. “Suit yourself.”

  Cruz followed Fitzgerald to his truck, then shook his hand. “I appreciate everything you and Maria have done for me.”

  “Wouldn’t have it any other way. You’re family.” Riley shut the door and drove off.

  Family. He guessed Maria viewed him as a younger brother. But as much as he wanted to embrace the idea...he’d rather be a part of the family living inside the house thirty feet away.

  * * *

  “WHO’S THAT MAN talking to Cruz, Dani?” Sara asked when her daughter walked into the kitchen.

  “Mr. Fitz... I can’t remember. He’s Mr. Cruz’s friend.”

  So this was the wealthy man who’d helped Cruz years ago. “Did he say what he wants?”

  Dani shrugged.

  “Stop interrogating the child.” José frowned.

  “Why don’t you wash up for supper.” After Dani left the room, she said, “I believe his name is Riley Fitzgerald. He once helped Cruz and his friends when they were having trouble in high school.”

  “There’s plenty of food. Invite him to supper.”

  “Good idea.” Sara hurried into her bedroom to brush her hair and powder her nose. By the time she left the house, the taillights of the visitor’s truck were a spec on the horizon.

  Cruz stood in the driveway, watching his friend leave.

  “I’d planned to invite him to join us for dinner,” she said, announcing her presence.

  “He had business to take care of.”

  Why did Sara sense Cruz didn’t want her to meet his friend? “Was that Riley Fitzgerald—the man who introduced you to rodeo?”

  “He was a hell of a saddle-bronc rider.” The admiration in Cruz’s voice rang clear and loud.

  “He stopped by to see how I was doing.” Cruz swung hi
s gaze to Sara. “And to find out if I’d changed my mind about working for him.”

  “Where did you say his ranch was?”

  “About an hour north of Albuquerque. Why?”

  Sara spotted a suspicious gleam in his eye. Had he guessed what she was thinking—that an hour outside of Albuquerque wasn’t that far from where she lived? That if he took the job maybe they could see each other after José got settled in with her and Dani?

  Cruz was the first to look away. Then his chest expanded and he released a harsh breath. “The barn roof is fixed.”

  Already? Only a week had passed since they’d returned from the rodeo. Then again he’d put in fourteen-hour days—eventually the job would get done. Sara wasn’t ready for him to leave. Selfishly she wanted him to stay until it was time for her and Dani and José to head north. And her father-in-law would never admit it, but Cruz’s presence at the ranch was pulling him out of his depression. Witnessing the improvements to the property had put a spring in José’s step. Maybe she was jumping to conclusions, but there might be a small chance that Cruz was filling the void left by Tony’s death.

  “I was thinking that we should fence the property. Divide it up into sections so horses could be separated if several owners were boarding at once.” Dollar signs rang up in her head and she knew she should feel some guilt that she’d have to use Tony’s life insurance to pay for the materials, but she was desperate to keep Cruz in Papago Springs a little longer.

  Their gazes clashed, his filled with turmoil. She understood she was making things more difficult between them but nothing with a man like Cruz would be easy. “If the property was fenced, we could charge more for boarding.”

  “Is José okay with your plans?” he asked.

  “I haven’t asked him, but I’m sure he’ll see it makes sense.”

  “It’s going to cost money for all that fencing.” His gaze pierced her as if he wanted to make sure she knew that fence posts weren’t the only cost she’d have to deal with if he stayed.

  “I know,” she said, answering the obvious question—and the unspoken one.

  Seconds ticked off the clock before he ran his fingers through his sweaty hair. “If José wants the corrals, I’ll stay. If he doesn’t...”

  You’ll leave.

  * * *

  THE CITY OF DEMING Cowboy Park was crammed with pickups and horse trailers as cowboys arrived for the annual rodeo. Cruz parked in the back of the dirt lot, near the exit. He wanted to cut out early—as soon as he finished his ride—then hightail it back to Papago Springs and Sara.

  The trailer on José’s property was beginning to feel like home. Or maybe it was the people, not the place, that felt like a comfortable fit. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d ever been content, at peace. Being around Sara had a calming effect on him. It didn’t matter that he was attracted to her and dreamed of making love to her when he went to bed every night—her presence soothed his battered soul and he swore as the days went by that he noticed a different feeling growing inside him.

  Slowly, a little bit at a time, the emptiness in his chest was giving way to a feeling of hope. The pent-up anger he’d carried for so long seemed like a lifetime ago. It took more effort to remember that his best friend had dragged him into a fight that hadn’t been any of his business. Or that his father had abandoned his family. That his mother hadn’t reined in Cruz when he’d started running with a gang. Each time Sara smiled, more and more resentment drained from his body.

  He grabbed his gear and headed to the sign-in table. The rodeo was PRCA–sanctioned and he expected there to be talented cowboys competing this afternoon. A tingle of excitement raced through his blood and this time he didn’t try to tamp it down. He wanted to compete—not just to honor Shorty’s memory, but because he wanted to win. It was a different feeling than he’d had in prison, where he’d been expected to win. Prison had stripped away his love of the sport—until he’d slid onto the back of Nobody’s Business and felt the urge to show off. Today was all about proving himself. And he didn’t care if his competition called it beginner’s luck.

  He made his way to the cowboy-ready area. He rode in two hours, but he’d arrived early to watch the other events. The trick would be avoiding reporters once they spotted his name on the saddle-bronc roster. He slipped into the shadows behind the chutes and watched the team-roping event. A half hour passed before a group of young contenders stopped nearby and began talking.

  “Don’t worry, Sean. Victor Vicario’s riding on nothing but luck. He’s bound to lose one eventually. Maybe today’s the day.”

  Victor Vicario? Cruz’s mind raced back to his conversation with Fitzgerald. The man hadn’t mentioned that Vic had taken up rodeo. Since when had his friend wanted to bust broncs? The last Cruz knew, Vic had decided getting bucked off a horse wasn’t his idea of fun. Vic hadn’t been interested in rodeo in high school. He’d wanted to make a fast dollar—legally or illegally—didn’t matter.

  Cruz wondered how long Vic had been riding. Maybe if he’d followed the rodeo circuit like the other convicts in prison, he might have come across Vic’s name in the standings. A surge of jealousy ripped through his gut. Vic was living the life Cruz had planned for himself until fate had intervened. Fitzgerald had given him a taste of what a rodeo career would be like and Cruz had embraced the thrill and the challenge wholeheartedly. He’d known in his heart and by the looks on the faces of the rodeo judges that he had the talent to be a top contender one day.

  He’d set a goal for himself, determined to rise above his father’s tarnished reputation, the gangs, his weak mother and a bad home life. Deep in his gut Cruz knew if he’d stayed out of prison he’d have beaten the odds and won a national title by now. But instead of him basking in success, it was Vic who was living the life Cruz had wanted. Cruz had had to settle for riding in prison rodeos on has-been broncs. His moment of glory came one day a year, then he went back to being inmate 1376 until the next rodeo.

  “There he is,” a cowboy said, then a hush fell over the group.

  Cruz stepped farther into the shadows. He couldn’t get a good look at Vic because his cowboy hat was tipped low over his face. His friend had filled out over the years and turned his baby fat into muscle.

  “He’s nothing but a has-been gangbanger. He’s a loser. You got nothing to fear from him.”

  Cruz squeezed his hands into fists as anger filled him. After all these years the urge to come to his friend’s defense was still there. He’d leave him to handle his own battles—things hadn’t turned out so well the last time he’d tried to save Vic from himself.

  “He was lucky last week in Amarillo.”

  “He’s lucky every week.” A cowboy with red hair adjusted his Stetson and swaggered toward Vic. Cruz couldn’t hear the exchange between him and Vic. When carrottop returned to his friends, he said, “The man’s full of crap.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He said I should go change out of my diapers because toddlers aren’t allowed to compete today.”

  Cruz swallowed a chuckle. That sounded like something Vic would say. He’d always enjoyed taunting others—probably because he’d been taunted about the scar on his face growing up.

  The group moved off, giving Cruz a clear view of Vic. He stood alone—like Cruz. They were both outcasts. He wished things hadn’t ended the way they had between them or he might have caved in and walked over to say “Hey,” “Good luck,” “How’ve you been the past twelve years?” Now wasn’t the right time. Shoot, Cruz didn’t know if there would ever be a right time.

  The announcers warmed up the crowd as he waited for the saddle-bronc event to begin. He kept an eye on Vic—still standing alone. A trio of buckle bunnies approached him and flirted but as far as he could tell, Vic wasn’t interested, his face a mask of concentration as he studied the horse in the chute next to hi
m.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, we’re kicking off the saddle-bronc event next and we’ve got a stellar lineup of cowboys this afternoon, not to mention a great group of broncs.”

  As Cruz listened to the announcer run down the list of competitors, his ears perked when Vic was mentioned.

  “Victor Vicario has been moving up the ranks the past few years and it looks like he might have a shot at going to Vegas this December if he can keep his seat through Cowboy Christmas.”

  Vegas? Vic was that good?

  “Vicario hails from Albuquerque and he’s coming out on Jumpin’ Jack. That’s right, folks, you heard me... Jumpin’ Jack. This bronc can jump clean out of the chute if he wants to.”

  Vic climbed the rails and straddled the bronc. It was like looking in the mirror—the way Vic wrapped the roped twice around his hand only to unwind it, then repeat the process all over again. Cruz’s mind flashed back in time to when Riley Fitzgerald had taught them how to hold the rein and Cruz had rebelled, claiming his way was better. Riley had finally conceded that Cruz’s way worked for him and had quit pestering him to change his grip. He’d had no idea that Vic had paid attention to Cruz and now used the same routine when he rode. Cruz wasn’t sure how he felt about that—maybe a little pissed off and a little honored.

  Next, Vic sank low in the saddle, pushing his hips forward and his shoulders back. Cruz usually leaned a fraction to the right—his strong side. Vic did the same thing and sat slightly off balance. Then he reached for the brim of his hat and pulled it low, hiding half his face—just like Cruz. Out of instinct he counted to five, then nodded.

  Jumpin’ Jack sprang into action, kicking straight out before snapping back and hitting the ground. Vic stayed on, his backside rising off the saddle before coming down hard. Cruz couldn’t help but be impressed with the way Vic held his arm high above his head as the bronc kept up its relentless spinning.

  Glued to the action, Cruz didn’t realize he held his breath until he heard the buzzer, then a gust of air shot from his lungs. “Look for an opening, Vic. There it is.” Cruz spotted it a second before Vic flung himself sideways and hit the ground shoulder-first. He sprang to his feet, grabbed his hat and ran for the rails. He didn’t wave his hat at the crowd before he disappeared behind the chutes.