Cowboy on My Mind

by R. C. Ryan

  The sound of his cell phone shattered the stillness.

  “Who…?” She started to pull away, but he drew her closer.

  “It doesn’t matter. I just want…”

  The ringing continued. And though he struggled to ignore it, the mood had already shifted.

  He swore under his breath as he plucked the phone from his shirt pocket and studied the caller ID.

  He took a step back as he answered it. “Yes, Jeanette.” He paused. “The sheriff…?” He listened, then said, “I’ll be right there.”

  He touched a big palm to Rebecca’s cheek. “I’m sorry. An emergency. I’m not on duty, but Virgil needs me. I have to go.”

  She gave a reluctant nod. “I understand.”

  “I could come back later…”

  She was already shaking her head. “It’s late. I have to be at the store early. We both need our sleep.”

  His grin was quick and dangerous. The words tumbled out before he could stop them. “I could always sleep here. It’s a lot closer than the ranch.”

  “Nice try, Ben.” She softened her words with a smile.

  “Can’t blame a guy for trying.” He turned away and opened the door. “Good luck tomorrow.”

  “Thanks.” She put a hand on the door. “Good night, Ben. And, Ben?”

  He paused.

  “Thanks for today. It was really special to me.”

  “Yeah. Me too. Night, Becca.”

  He was whistling as he made his way to his truck and drove away.

  Mac ambled in from the barn and washed up at the big sink before stepping into the kitchen. Spotting Ben standing with the others, his smile grew. “It’s good to see you, son. You’ve been putting in some long hours. Does this have anything to do with Virgil’s leg?”

  “It’s not healing properly.” Ben set aside his longneck. “Dr. Huddleston ordered him to do physical therapy three times a week for the next month. When Virgil said he couldn’t take the time from work, Doc warned him he’d be taking early retirement if he didn’t follow orders. So it looks like I’ll be doing double-duty until his doctor is satisfied with the results.”

  Mac slapped Ben’s arm. “It’s a good thing he has you.”

  “I guess that’s so.” Ben frowned. “But it also means that you and the others have to pick up the slack here on the ranch.”

  “Don’t get on a guilt trip, boy.” Zachariah stood at the stove, carving up a slab of ribs into manageable portions before setting them on a platter. “You knew there’d be some rough patches along the way.”

  Otis grinned. “Sort of like life.”

  That had them all relaxing and grinning.

  As they gathered around the table, Ben turned to his youngest brother. “I’ve been too busy to ask how that trial’s going.”

  “Long and slow.” Finn shot a look at Zachariah across the table. “My mentor here says that’s good news. It means the jury is paying attention. All I know is, I’m trying not to let them see me sweat.”

  Sam poked an elbow in Finn’s ribs. “I think you’re loving every minute of it, bro.”

  “The truth?” Finn’s smile came slowly. “Every day it gets easier. And every day I find myself thinking this is the best part of being a lawyer. I love listening to that hotshot attorney for the state spouting off about his theory that my client pulled off the crime of the century, while dodging the facts. I can hardly wait for the summation.”

  Zachariah sat back with a look of supreme pride. “And that, gentlemen, is the mark of a true litigator. It’s not just about winning freedom for your client. It’s that cat-and-mouse game of drawing the opposition into a box of his own making, from which he cannot escape.”

  Sam turned to Ben. “Don’t you just love it when they start talking all that formal lawyerese?”

  “Yeah.” Ben joined in the teasing. “All those fancy words, but in the end, it’s what we’ve been doing for a lifetime.” He shot a grin at his brothers. “Instead of fists, our lawyer here uses big words to beat up his opponent.”

  “Forget court.” Sam shook his head. “Give me a good knock-down, drag-out fistfight any time.”

  The others rolled their eyes and groaned as they continued their lighthearted banter over dinner.

  Hank Henderson reluctantly handed Rebecca the keys to the hardware store’s fancy new truck with the hydraulic lift on the back. “I’m surprised and pleased that you keep selling out as fast as you stock up. But I don’t understand why you can’t ask Lamar and Lloyd Platt to deliver their own furniture.”

  “Because,” she said patiently, for at least the fourth time, “Lamar is nearly ninety, and his son is years older than you, Dad. If I asked them, I know they would make the attempt. But it just isn’t right. Their only truck looks as old as they are.”

  As she climbed into the cab of the truck, her father pointed to the two men walking toward him.

  “I asked Eli and our new stock boy, Rodney, to go along and do the heavy lifting.”

  The two climbed into the truck and fastened their seat belts.

  Her smile bloomed. “That’s sweet, Dad. Thanks.”

  “I’m not doing it to be nice. You’ve never driven a rig this size before. I just want to make sure you’ve got some muscles with you, in case of trouble with my pricey equipment.”

  “I should have known. Some things never change.” Her smile faded. “We’ll be back before closing.”

  “See that you are. I’m not going home until you get this truck safely back to the store.”

  As she pulled away, Hank stood watching with a look of concern.

  When Rebecca had first asked about using the truck, he’d been determined to refuse. But then he considered the alternative. On both earlier excursions into the hills, she’d enjoyed the company of that hell-raiser. If giving her the use of the truck meant eliminating Ben Monroe, he figured it was worth it.

  To his way of thinking, the new deputy was good for one thing only: keeping Rebecca safe until this mysterious gunman was arrested.

  As for her future, as long as Will Theisen was still in town, there was hope.

  “Oh, just look at these.” Rebecca clapped her hands together when she had her first look at the once-rickety pallets, now made sturdy with log reinforcements and transformed into colorful shelving.

  Some were natural, others had been painted brown, black, or white, and all would be perfect in a potting shed or in a backyard. And then there was the neon yellow pallet that would look perfect in a garage or on a back patio, holding children’s outdoor toys.

  She turned to the two old men, beaming their pleasure at her reaction. “These are amazing. I thought you’d be able to do something with them, but I never dreamed they could look this good.”

  Lamar Platt put a hand on his son’s shoulder. “You can thank Lloyd for that bright one. He thought he’d give it a try, but I wasn’t so sure you’d like it.”

  “I don’t just like it. I love it. I love all of them. And I really believe my customers will love them, too.” She turned to Eli and Rodney. “You can go ahead and start loading up.”

  Lamar stood beside Rebecca while Lloyd pointed out to Rebecca’s assistants which pieces of furniture to load.

  While they worked, Rebecca handed the old man a tin of cookies and an envelope. The first thing he opened was the cookie tin, helping himself to one of Susan’s homemade chocolate chip cookies. He gave a purr of pleasure before opening the envelope and counting out the money.

  He shot her a look of astonishment. “Didn’t you take any for yourself?”

  “I did. This is for you and Lloyd. Your share of the profits.” She looked at the bare walls of his workroom. “Maybe it’s a good thing winter is around the corner. From the look of things, we’re just about to clean you out.”

  He gave a slow shake of his head. “If anybody had told me, just a month ago, I’d be making money off my hobby, I’d have said they were crazy as a loon.” He watched as Eli and Rodney loaded yet another swi
ng onto the hydraulic lift. His gaze swept the nearly empty workroom. “I haven’t seen the walls of this side of the barn in years.”

  “Think you’ll have it filled up by spring?”

  He shrugged before tucking the money carefully in a pocket of his overalls. “Looks like Lloyd and I won’t have time to just sit around and watch the snow fall.” His smile came easily. “And that’s a good thing. I don’t like idle time on my hands.”

  “Neither do I.” Rebecca watched as Eli closed and locked the back of the truck. “Now it’s time for me to get to work selling all this.”

  Again she hugged both Lamar and Lloyd before pulling herself up to the driver’s side and starting the engine.

  With a wave of her hand she was gone.

  Eli peered out the truck window. “This isn’t the way to town.”

  “I know.” Rebecca had been smiling for the past half hour, lost in thought.

  She’d been seeing in her mind Ben’s father and brother, Sam, sitting on the steps of their back porch, casually sipping their beer and talking in low tones about their day.

  The porch ran the width of the Monroe ranch house and was, like so many working ranches, devoid of anything except a few utilitarian things. A rough wooden bench that held a bucket or two. An antique milk jug. Sacks and pots holding a multitude of necessary items.

  Her smile grew as she turned onto the long gravel drive leading to the Monroe ranch. There were no trucks parked alongside the house or barn, which meant that the men of the house were already up in the hills or busy with chores.

  She drove directly to the porch before stopping. After knocking on the back door and hearing no answering call, she returned to the truck.

  Eli lowered the window. “What’re we doing here?”

  “Delivering some much-needed merchandise.” She beckoned both the men to follow her.

  After unlocking the back of the truck, she climbed up inside and said, “We’ll need this, and that, and those.”

  Half an hour later, under Rebecca’s direction, the back porch had been transformed with the help of a log swing, four log chairs, a pallet shelf in natural, and in the yard, beneath a giant ponderosa pine, one of the biggest log tables Lamar and Lloyd had made.

  Satisfied, she gave a nod. “Okay. We’re done here. Let’s head to town.”

  On the long drive back, Rebecca could hardly contain her excitement. What she wouldn’t give to see the expressions on Ben’s family’s faces when they returned home and found her gifts. Especially when they found the little note she’d tucked on the center shelf, anchored beneath a tin of her mother’s cookies.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Took you long enough.” Hank Henderson was pacing outside his hardware store.

  As Rebecca stepped down from the truck, he extended his hand for the keys. “I was getting ready to phone the sheriff to ask if there were any accidents on the interstate.”

  “Dad, we all have phones. If there’d been any trouble, one of us would have called you.” She turned to thank Eli and Rodney for their help. “We’ll unload in the morning.”

  Relieved that they didn’t have to stay, the two employees waved good night and began heading home.

  Hank pocketed the keys and took her arm. “Come on. It’s getting dark. I’ll walk with you.”

  “Okay.” Feeling mellow, Rebecca moved along beside him, looking up at the moon, just beginning to peek through the clouds. “I love this time of year.”

  Hank nodded. “You always did.”

  “Maybe it’s the brisk air. And the color all across the hills. The end-of-summer rodeos, and the feeling of endings and beginnings.” She turned to her father. “Do you feel it, too?”

  “All I feel is…annoyed.”

  She turned her head to look at him. “Are you annoyed at me?”

  He shrugged, clearly uncomfortable talking about his feelings. “I’m not sure. Maybe it’s my age. I probably felt the way you do, but that was when I was young and foolish.”

  “Somehow it’s hard for me to see you as young or foolish.”

  “And just how do you see me?”

  Now it was her turn to feel uncomfortable. “For as long as I can remember, you were always all business and no time for fun.”

  “Fun is overrated. Your mother keeps talking about what we could be doing if we weren’t tied to the hardware store. She doesn’t understand that I can’t think of anything I’d rather be doing than working.”

  “What would Mom do if you took some time off?”

  Another shrug. “I think she has her sights set on a cruise.”

  “Where to?”

  “Knowing your mother, it’ll be someplace warm. Hawaii. The Bahamas.”

  “What about you, Dad? If you didn’t have the business to run, what would you like to do?”

  He gave a snort of disgust. “I thought I just told you. I like working. I like being the boss. I don’t have time for foolishness. I’m a husband and father. Like my mother always said, once you marry, you put foolish dreams aside and take responsibility like a man.”

  “Dad, you’ve always been responsible. But you and Mom deserve to follow your dreams.”

  “Now you’re beginning to sound like Susan. I don’t have big, fancy dreams. I just want to do what I’ve always—” His words abruptly ended as a figure loomed up in the darkness.

  “Will.” Rebecca was the first to recognize him. “You startled us.”

  “Sorry. I was just leaving Reverend Grayson’s, and thought the voices I heard were yours.”

  Hank took in a deep, relieved breath. “You in a hurry, Will?”

  “Not at all, sir. If you don’t mind, I’ll just walk along with the two of you.”

  Hank glanced at the porch lights just coming on. “We’re at my street. As long as Rebecca isn’t alone, I’ll head on home, knowing she’s in good hands.” He pressed a kiss to his daughter’s cheek.

  “Very smooth, Dad.” Though her voice was barely a whisper, she didn’t bother to hide the sarcasm.

  “I thought so.” He turned away, calling over his shoulder, “Good night, Will. Take care of my girl.”

  “I will. Good night, sir.”

  Will and Rebecca continued along the sidewalk.

  At first they walked in silence, hands tucked in pockets, listening to the sound of back doors slamming and children’s voices raised in laughter. Nearby, a dog barked and continued barking until a door was opened and the dog’s owner shouted a command. Minutes later the door closed, and the dog’s barking, now muted, continued indoors.

  “How was your visit with Reverend Grayson?”

  Will turned to her. “It was good. I’ve asked him to counsel me about how to choose my ministry going forward.”

  “I thought you’d already chosen a ministry. Are you asking him about specific churches in certain locations?”

  “Not really. I’m determined to be somewhere warm.” He drew his jacket up around his neck as a stiff breeze ruffled his hair.

  “Well, that narrows your search. What about the church in Atlanta where you did your internship?”

  Will ducked his head. “I don’t know if that position is still available.”

  “Really?” Rebecca looked over. “Have you asked them?”

  “I…haven’t been in contact with them since I came home.”

  “Oh, Will.” She touched a hand to his sleeve. “It isn’t like you to back away from commitment. Call the pastor there and see if the position is still open.”

  “It isn’t that simple.”

  “Well, it should be. If they don’t yet have a new pastor, and they approve your credentials, what would stop them from inviting you to at least give them a try?”

  “There could be dozens of newly ordained ministers hoping for the job.”

  “But they aren’t you.” As they climbed the steps to her porch, she pulled the house key from her pocket before turning to him. “Will, I’ve never known you to be shy about your talents. You could
outshine a hundred opponents, if you wanted to.”

  He was smiling and shaking his head. “Rebecca, I wish I had your—”

  The silence of the evening was shattered by the now-familiar sound of a gunshot. It rang through the air as a bullet whistled past their heads and embedded itself in the wood molding above the door. Though her first instinct was to freeze, Rebecca grabbed Will’s sleeve, nearly dragging him with her as she leapt off the porch and fled to the rear of the house. Once there she unlocked the back door, pulling Will inside before retrieving her phone. Her hands shook as she frantically dialed 911.

  Jeanette Moak’s voice was as calm as if she were discussing the weather. “Stay inside and wait for law enforcement, Rebecca.”

  “Thank you. Tell them to please hurry.” Rebecca’s voice was a sob catching in her throat.

  When the police van arrived, both Virgil Kerr and his deputy stepped out. Ben sprinted up the steps while the sheriff limped along more slowly.

  The front door was opened before Ben had time to ring the bell.

  “Becca.” He stepped inside, noting Will seated at the kitchen table, sipping from a glass of water. “Will.”

  The young minister stood and hurried over. “That was fast.”

  “The sheriff and I were close by.” He turned to Rebecca, wishing with all his heart he could drag her close. Instead he said softly, “Are you hurt?”

  “No. But the bullet flew right over our heads, Ben. I heard it hit the wood of my house.”

  “Show me.” He followed her to the front door, where Virgil was just about to enter.

  “Sheriff.” Rebecca paused. “Are you all right?”

  “Just a little stiff from therapy.”

  Ben withdrew a flashlight from his belt. “Becca said the bullet hit the house.”

  The two lawmen studied the bullet hole in the circle of light.

  “I’ll want that sent to the state police lab, Ben.”

  “Right.”

  Virgil turned to Rebecca and Will. “Why don’t we sit over here and you two can tell us exactly what happened tonight.” He settled himself in a straight-backed chair, extending his leg stiffly before facing Rebecca. “You can begin. And, Will, if you think of anything Rebecca has forgotten, fill us in.”