A Cowboy's Redemption

by Marin Thomas

  Cruz was impressed. Vic was a natural at the sport. Why hadn’t his friend told him he’d taken up rodeo? Hell, Vic could have written him a note while Cruz had been in prison. And never once in any of the birthday or holiday cards he’d received from Maria had she mentioned Vic’s rodeo career. It was as if everyone had purposefully kept it a secret.

  You know why, don’t you?

  Because Vic had robbed Cruz of the chance to pursue a rodeo career. They all probably thought Cruz would be miffed or wish Vic ill will. He hoped he wouldn’t have felt that way, but who knew. Those first few years in prison had been rough and he’d hated just about everyone in the world—and Vic had been at the top of his list.

  He couldn’t change the past. Couldn’t wipe out his prison experience. Couldn’t magically claim what should have been his—a rodeo career. Maybe what hurt the most was that he no longer wanted the rodeo career he’d once dreamed of having. Yeah, he still felt the thrill before a ride, but the all-consuming desire to make it to the top had fallen by the wayside in prison. He kept his eye on Vic, who collected his equipment. No one stopped to congratulate him. If he’d been riding the circuit for years he should have made a few friends, but from where Cruz stood, Vic appeared all alone.

  “Ladies and gents, get ready for the second ride of the afternoon!” The announcer’s voice echoed through the stands, ending Cruz’s mental contemplation. “This cowboy also hails from Albuquerque and he’s going to take on a bronc named Sassy Sally.”

  Cruz tugged on his riding glove and walked over to the chute a few feet away.

  “Although he didn’t win in Alamogordo last weekend, rumor has it this cowboy put on quite a show. Let’s see if Cruz Rivera can top Vic Vicario’s ride.”

  Cruz climbed the rails and settled onto Sally’s back. The bronc stood steady while he wrapped the rope around his hand. He lifted his head one last time and his gaze connected with Vic’s. Other than the pasty color of his friend’s face, Vic showed no emotion.

  Cruz tugged his hat low then sucked in a deep breath and nodded. Come hell or high water, he was going to show Vic he was the better saddle-bronc rider. He nodded and the gate opened.

  Sally didn’t spin—she twisted when she bucked. She turned her head and chest to the left but her back end swung right, which tormented Cruz’s spine. As if the ride happened in slow motion, he blocked everything from his mind but the bronc. The noise in the arena faded to only horse grunts and hooves thudding against the dirt.

  He and Sally danced for what felt like minutes, not seconds. When the buzzer sounded, Cruz kept his arm in the air—more out of habit after showing off for the prison crowds than because he wanted to prove he was just as good as Vic. Sally’s bucks grew weaker. The crowd noise faded. Everything came to a standstill, including the horse.

  Among a silent crowd, Cruz jumped off Sally, patted her rump, then scooped his hat off the ground. Head high, he walked out of the arena and went straight for his gear bag, avoiding eye contact with everyone.

  “Rodeoing in prison ain’t the same as being in a real rodeo, convict!”

  Here we go again.

  “We don’t want you here. So stay the hell off the circuit. We got women and children traveling with us. We don’t trust you around them.”

  Cruz bit his tongue.

  “You’ll give rodeo a bad name.”

  Right then the announcer called out his score. “Looks like Cruz Rivera will have to keep practicing, folks. He scored a seventy-six on his ride. Vic Vicario is still the cowboy to beat.”

  “You’re not one of us, Rivera. Go home and stay home.”

  “Back off, Davis.”

  Cruz recognized Vic’s voice—a little deeper than high school but the same tone.

  “Why are you coming to his defense?” The cowboy gaped at Vic. “He’s an ex-con.”

  Cruz tensed when Vic stopped in front of his tormentor. “He’s a rodeo cowboy first. The rest doesn’t matter.”

  Cruz thought that was a little naive but nice of Vic to believe that.

  “Stay away from rodeo, jailbird. You’re tarnishing the sport.” Davis swung his fist, landing a blow to Cruz’s jaw. The pain reverberated through his skull and he stumbled backward.

  “You stupid ass,” Vic said, stepping between the men.

  “I don’t know why you’re defending a piece of shit, Vicario, but if he doesn’t stay away from rodeo, I won’t be the only one throwing punches at him.” Davis walked off.

  Cruz threw his bag over his shoulder. He had to get out of there before he or Vic got into a brawl. He made a move to leave, but Vic grabbed his arm.

  “Wait.”

  “I’ve been doing nothing but waiting the past twelve years. I’m done waiting.” He jerked his arm free.

  Vic winced, the action stretching the scar from the corner of his eye, across his cheek and through the edge of his mouth. The puckered flesh was a reminder of Vic’s rough childhood.

  Vic visibly struggled to speak and Cruz took pity on him. “Nice ride today.” He turned away and left the arena.

  Chapter Nine

  It was midnight and Cruz still hadn’t returned from the rodeo. Sara stood in the backyard, staring at the dark trailer. She’d gone to bed at ten-thirty but had tossed and turned until she’d finally given up and stepped outside for fresh air.

  The day had passed quietly without Cruz’s presence—no hammering or sawing sounds coming from the barn. Just a stillness that reminded her she was alone. Not physically alone—she had Dani and José with her—but emotionally alone. After grieving for Tony, Sara had given herself permission to move on. She hadn’t been looking to date or get involved with any men, but she’d decided if one happened along, she’d be open to the possibility of a new relationship.

  She never thought she’d test the waters with a man like Cruz Rivera. In some ways, she felt guilty for wanting a deeper connection with Cruz but not a long-term relationship. She’d already experienced being with a man who focused only on himself and his goals. She’d be a fool to believe that after getting out of prison Cruz would be ready to put the needs of others first. It would only be natural for him to focus on himself. To go where he wanted to after being behind bars for twelve years. She didn’t want to put limits on that freedom. He deserved to pursue his own goals and dreams and she refused to stand in his way.

  But she was lonely and yearned for intimacy. The passion and attraction she’d once felt for Tony had faded a tiny bit each night he’d come home from the clinic and regaled her with stories of people he’d helped rather than listen to her tell him about her or Dani’s day. On the rare occasion when they made love, it was just sex—a quick fix before Tony ran out the door in the morning.

  The sound of a truck engine pulling into town caught her attention. She released a deep breath, grateful Cruz had returned. She hadn’t been worried that he’d take off and leave for good—not after spending the morning cleaning the trailer and doing his laundry. And snooping. Yes, she admitted she hoped to find something in his personal possessions that would tell her a little more about him. But there had been nothing. No books. No letters from home. Not even a watch or a ring. It made her sad that he possessed so little—everyone should have something they treasured.

  A crunching sound met her ears before Cruz’s shadow cleared the edge of the house. He stopped walking when he noticed her. There was just enough light from the moon to make out his dark figure. Only the occasional chirp of a cricket broke the silence.

  Heart pounding, Sara moved closer. “How did you do?”

  “I lost.”

  She smiled at his disgruntled tone. “There’s always next time.” She secretly rejoiced in his loss. He’d have to stick around longer and earn more money to pay the next entry fee.

  “You’re up late. Everything okay?”


  “Fine. I dusted the trailer today and put your clean clothes on the couch.”

  “You didn’t have to wash my clothes.”

  “I wanted to.” She inched closer.

  He stared into the darkness and balled his hands into fists.

  “Did something happen at the rodeo?”

  He opened his mouth, then snapped it closed and shook his head.

  She touched his arm and the muscle beneath hardened like a rock. “Tell me.”

  He shrugged free and walked to the trailer, disappearing inside without a word. No way was she going to let him off the hook that easy. When she entered the trailer, Cruz stood at the sink with his back to the door. She remained silent, waiting for him to acknowledge her.

  “I ran into an old friend.” He faced her.

  She pointed to the purple bruise along his jaw. “Did your old friend do that to you?”

  Cruz’s lips curved—he was so handsome when he allowed himself to smile. “I didn’t get into a fight. I got punched.”

  Her nursing instincts kicked in and she went to him. Gently she pressed her fingers along the bone, watching his reaction as she increased the pressure. “I don’t think it’s broken or fractured.” She rubbed her knuckles against his day-old whiskers, enjoying the scratchy feel. “You should put ice on it.”

  She forced herself to look into his eyes and his stare made her shiver. She dropped her arm and reached for his hands. There wasn’t a scratch on them. Cruz hadn’t fought back, because fighting would violate his probation. He’d rather get beat up than risk going back to jail. Her heart broke for him.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?” He threaded his fingers through hers.

  “For stupid people doing stupid things,” she said. That he didn’t pull away caused her blood to pump hard and fast through her body. “Tell me what happened.” Did he trust her enough to open up to her?

  “Same thing as last weekend.” He stared at his boots. “They don’t want an ex-con in their midst.”

  Sara heard a world of hurt in that simple sentence and she wished she could take away his pain. Make him forget the humiliation. She rocked forward on her toes and kissed the bruise along his jaw. He stiffened. Then she moved her mouth along his cheek, pressing tiny healing kisses to his skin. He smelled like leather and faded cologne. When she reached his ear and sighed, he grasped her arms.

  “I can’t,” he said.

  She stared into his eyes. She’d have to be a moron not to recognize the heat and hunger in his gaze. “Why not?”

  “You deserve better.” He left her standing in the kitchen and retreated to the bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

  Frustrated and a little miffed that Cruz had rejected her, Sara left the trailer and returned to the house. A half hour had passed when she heard footsteps in the hallway followed by the bathroom door opening and closing. The shower turned on and the pipes rattled in the wall behind her bed.

  She closed her eyes and envisioned Cruz naked beneath the spray of cool water. Envisioned soap suds rolling down his chest, his thighs, the bubbles pooling at his feet before being sucked into the drain. Caught up in her fantasy, she didn’t notice that the water had shut off. The glowing digits on the nightstand clock flipped to a new minute. Then another. And another.

  Mind made up, she left her bed and rummaged through the sock drawer in her dresser. When she found the coin purse she’d hidden away, she removed three condoms from inside. After Tony had been gone a year, she’d purchased the protection just in case. She had intended to be prepared if the time ever came when she had sex again.

  Condoms clutched in her hand, she stepped into the hallway. The bathroom door stood open. Cruz had left the house already. She slipped her feet into her flip-flops and walked out to the trailer. Cruz stood in the living room with a bath towel tied around his waist.

  She jutted her chin. “I’m a grown woman and I think I know what I want and what’s good for me.”

  Anger flared in his eyes for two seconds before it died away. She cut through the kitchen and stopped in front of him. “I’m not asking for promises. Just tonight.”

  He closed his eyes when she pressed her palm against his naked chest and dragged her fingernails over his smooth flesh, stopping to pluck his nipple before playing with the knot at the front of the towel.

  If she undid the knot, there would be no turning back and Cruz wasn’t going to be the one to make that decision for her. She tugged on the terry cloth and the towel fell to the floor. As she studied his naked body, an old familiar ache that she hadn’t felt in a long time sputtered and came to life inside her, warming her blood.

  He cupped her jaw, tilting her head up. He stared into her eyes, then his lashes fluttered closed and he pressed his mouth to hers. She’d braced herself for a hungry, all-consuming kiss, but Cruz surprised her with his gentleness.

  Small nibbles, tiny bites and slow, lingering brushes of his tongue threatened to melt her. He pulled her against him, his hardness pressing into her stomach. His hands caught the edge of her pajama top and he whisked it over her head, then dropped the material on the floor. A guttural groan reverberated through him when their naked chests bumped together. He buried his face against the side of her neck and held her close. Time stood still.

  Cruz inhaled Sara’s sweet scent, the softness of her naked breasts caressing his chest, making him light-headed. He’d dreamed of holding a woman in his arms since he’d gone to prison, but he hadn’t imagined she’d be as special as Sara. He tucked her closer, as if he could absorb her into his body and make them one.

  Then fear took over. Not the fear that he wouldn’t or couldn’t be gentle. Fear of what happened when it was all over—when Sara tossed back the bed covers and left the trailer. Once he tasted Sara, he worried he’d never get his fill. How could he walk away from her and move ahead with his life if he carried this memory with him?

  Sara nuzzled his neck. “Take me to bed, Cruz.”

  He didn’t have to be asked twice. He didn’t understand why she was giving him the gift of herself, but until she’d touched him he’d had no idea how badly he needed that human connection. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve this night with Sara, but he counted his blessings and swept her up into his arms and carried her to the bedroom. He set her on the bed and, with her help, tugged off her clothes. Gently he lay on top of her, balancing his weight on his elbows. He wanted to tell her that he cared about her. That this meant a lot to him. That he needed her as he’d never needed a woman before, but the words would be meaningless coming from an ex-con.

  Her smile shot an arrow through his heart. “Make love to me, Cruz.”

  Make love. “I’ve never made love before. It was always just sex.”

  Her blue eyes turned misty. “Then I’ll show you how to make love.” She reached for his hand and placed it over her breast.

  That was all the encouragement he needed and for the first time since he’d left prison, he lowered his guard and allowed himself to simply feel. Not so much in the physical sense. He opened himself up to an emotional connection with Sara, consequences be damned. Fate had brought them together just like fate had made him wrestle the gun from Vic’s hand. This time he was more than glad to allow fate to take its course.

  * * *

  A QUIET SNORING sound drifted into Sara’s ears, but her eyes remained closed as she concentrated on the rise and fall of the chest beneath her cheek. Her hand rested over Cruz’s heart, which thudded slow and steady. A kaleidoscope of memories flashed through her mind as she replayed their lovemaking. He’d been gentle—almost too careful, forcing her to coax him to let go.

  The experience had been more than she’d bargained for. More than she’d ever dreamed and it saddened her that she and Tony had never shared such intimacy as her and Cruz had. Maybe if t
hey had, their relationship would have been better.

  If only she’d met Cruz before Tony—maybe both their lives would have taken different paths. Then you wouldn’t have Dani. Sara smiled as her daughter’s precious face flashed before her eyes. Dani was her world now. It was up to Sara to raise her—to be both a father and a mother to her daughter. Maybe someday a man would happen along who’d make a great father for Dani.

  But tonight had been about her—just her. Tomorrow would come soon enough and her time with Cruz would be a memory she’d cherish for the rest of her life.

  “Regrets?” he whispered into the dark.

  Sara stretched across his body and found his mouth. After thoroughly kissing him she said, “None.”

  “Good.” He flipped their positions and propped himself up, then spent the next five minutes exploring the sensitive areas of her body, teasing her until she squirmed and begged for mercy, which he granted her a long time later. When Sara woke next the sky was a light purple. The sun would rise soon and she needed to return to the house before Dani or José woke.

  Carefully she extricated herself from Cruz’s arms and left the bed. Then she gathered her clothes off the floor and made her way to the door, pausing a moment to watch him sleep. He looked innocent with his eyes closed and his mouth partially open. She wished with all her heart he hadn’t had to go to jail for trying to help a friend. And she wished with all her heart that gangbangers hadn’t shot her husband and taken his life.

  Why did good people have bad things happen to them?

  She wouldn’t learn the answer to that question staring at Cruz. She left the bedroom and closed the door. After slipping into her pajamas, she found her flip-flops and returned to the house. She’d almost made it to her bedroom when José’s door opened. His knowing gaze rattled her. Unable to find her voice she went into her bedroom. José’s footsteps echoed down the hall as he walked to the kitchen.