Outlaw Cowboy

by Nicole Helm

Suddenly—and he didn’t really understand why or how—that seemed to pale against having Delia in his life. It really did. His name on a paper. Shaw was more than that, but Delia was more than Shaw.

  This thing that had given him hope and meaning for years was nothing compared to waking up with her next to him. Fighting with her. Loving her. Stumbling his way through emotion with her. No comparison now.

  It was a crack in his chest. The fear of failure had always kept him from trying to love. But something in Delia had made him try, and he wanted to keep doing that.

  With her. Warrant or no. Lease or no. Shaw as his or not.

  Maybe she didn’t love him. Or maybe…maybe there was a crazy chance she was as scared as he was. Maybe she’d walked away because he hadn’t told her, hadn’t promised her, hadn’t shown her she was more important than all of it.

  His family had rallied around him last night, in ways Delia had been rallying around him since this whole thing started. She’d wanted to show him he was good, capable. If that wasn’t love, or the chance at it, what was?

  It was such a shocking realization, he laughed, which only pissed Tyler off more, but who cared? Who fucking cared? “So, no, we’re not friends, but I was talking to Rose. Because I’d been hiding her sister away here while she tried to find a way to help save their other sister from their abusive asshole of a father.”

  Tyler’s head snapped back. “What?”

  All those things he’d been hiding, been terrified of Tyler finding out…he’d just laid them on the line, because he didn’t want this anymore. Not at the expense of the happiness he’d found.

  “What is wrong with you? Do you have any idea what I’ll do now?” Tyler demanded.

  “Yeah, I know exactly what you’ll do. You won’t pay me for what you’ve already taken. You’ll screw me because you can. That’s what people do, isn’t it? Only give a shit about their bottom line and their reputation?” Oh, hey, projection.

  Apparently Tyler had nothing to say to that, as he only stared, open-mouthed.

  “Do what you want, Tyler. I have better things to do than bowing and scraping to you.” Which meant he had to find Delia. It was his turn to fight for something, and he was going to fight for her.

  He pushed past Tyler.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Away. You need help—talk to my dad.” If Dad wanted him not to be a fool about love, he could damn well handle some ranch stuff.

  Caleb got in his truck and tore down to Summer’s caravan. She was frowning at the little garden she and Delia’d been putting together.

  His heart clutched, but he didn’t have time for that. “I need you to take over my chores,” he called out the window.

  Summer blinked at him, then grinned. “That better mean what I think it means.”

  “That I’m fucking my life up more than I already have?”

  “That love conquers all.”

  “Don’t get crazy. Just keep things under control here, okay? Call Mel if you need help.”

  Summer nodded. “And if you need help, we’re here.”

  “Do you think…” Hell, why was he asking Summer this?

  “Do I think what? That she loves you right back? Yeah.” Summer smiled, so certain and reassuring. “Actually I don’t think that. I’m sure of it. Sure.”

  He tipped his hat, and since nothing else really mattered, he tore his way toward Blue Valley. Screw speed limits and traffic laws.

  Hopefully Delia had gotten out of town and he’d find her. But first, he was going to find a way to fix this warrant shit. Which meant he had to know where to find the little asshole who’d gotten her mixed up in it in the first place.

  Which meant a trip to Pioneer Spirit. People would talk, and while he didn’t want to hurt Mel or Summer by having to hear shit gossip about him…he was starting to realize it didn’t have to matter. Not if he was honest and open with the people who mattered.

  He’d done and said the worst things for years, because he hadn’t ever wanted to try to be better. Because it was easier to live down to the voice in his head and what people thought he was than try to figure out who he was. What he wanted to be. What rules he thought were important enough to live by.

  It had gotten him precisely nothing. When he’d gone against the grain to do what in his gut he’d known was right—he’d gotten everything.

  Believing he didn’t deserve anything—especially love—hadn’t kept his family from loving him through it. So it was his turn to love someone through it. Maybe Delia didn’t love him yet, but he was too stubborn to believe he didn’t have a chance at earning her love.

  So it was time to make it right—all of it.

  He went around to the back of Pioneer Spirit, since it wasn’t open yet. He’d known the former owner, and there was an apartment back here, though he had no idea if Rose would be living in it.

  Still, he banged on the door. A lot. To the point his hand hurt and he was almost sure no one was inside.

  When the door finally swung open, a worse-for-the-wear Rose squinted her displeasure at him. There was a moment she recognized him and softened. “She’s not here,” she said in a gravelly voice that sounded like the rough end of a hangover.

  “Please tell me she’s on a train to Seattle.”

  Rose shook her head and waved him inside. The apartment was an absolute nightmare of a mess that put his room back home to shame, but she led him through it, and then through a door to the bar. Once they were in the shadowy darkness of the bar, she let out a long breath. “She went to the police station.”

  “Fuck.”

  “My thoughts exactly.” Rose let out a sigh that gave away her worry more than her expression or her words. “First thing. If they weren’t going to lock her up, she’d be back by now.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I know a thing or two about how police stations work. Even Valley County.”

  “Okay, well then…where can I find the bastard who got her mixed up in this?”

  “Going to swoop in like some fucking knight in shining armor after being the jackass who let her go?”

  “Damn straight.”

  Rose’s mouth curved. “Bartlett. Name’s Eddie Boothe. I called around a bit this morning. He hangs out at the Brick House mostly.” Rose bent behind the counter, placing a gun on the bar. “Here. You might need this.”

  “I…that’s a terrible idea.”

  She grinned. “I expect it back. So don’t kill him or anything. Just make him think you might.”

  He considered the gun. Even if he didn’t care about his reputation anymore, or rather if he was putting Delia above his reputation, breaking the law seemed a bit unnecessary. And he remembered what had happened the night he’d beat Graham Rogers into a coma. Had he had a gun…

  Well, technically, there had been a gun available—Graham’s. And he hadn’t touched it. So…

  “Sometimes you bend the rules to do the right thing,” Rose said, nudging the gun into his hand. “If you don’t do this, I will. I’m stepping out of the way only because I’ve got Steph to help today and I don’t need to make any amends to Delia.”

  “Don’t you?”

  “Who talked to her about your sorry ass last night? Believe that was me.”

  Caleb let his fingers curl around the gun. The words Come and Get It were inscribed on the barrel. “You Rogers women sure like your bizarre inscriptions.” He took a deep breath, let it out, studied Rose for a second. “She loves me.” This time, he said it like a statement.

  “God knows why.”

  “Think she’ll forgive me?”

  Rose didn’t give anything away. “Guess you’ll have to try and find out.”

  Try and find out. It was a fitting punishment, all in all, and he’d take it. Because he wasn’t going to be a coward or a self-fulfi
lling prophecy anymore. He was going to be happy. One way or a-fucking-nother.

  * * *

  Jail wasn’t so bad. Of course, this was just a holding cell. But they’d given Delia a Hot Pocket. Hard to complain.

  She’d be taken in to be questioned eventually, but these small county departments didn’t exactly run the tightest of schedules or the fullest of shifts. She sat on a hard little bench and stared at the bars in front of her.

  Actual real-life bars. It was surreal enough she couldn’t even panic yet. She was sitting in a jail cell, awaiting her fate for a crime she honestly hadn’t even committed.

  Life could be a real kick in the metaphorical balls.

  She blew out a breath. Well, this would give her ample time to plan her future after serving her sentence. It couldn’t be all that long. Eddie hadn’t been a big-time dealer. At least, she couldn’t imagine he was.

  Hell, what did she know?

  Didn’t matter. She was going to start focusing on the things she could control. On the life she wanted. She’d lived at the whims and needs of other people forever. Once she was free, she was going to embrace that freedom.

  She was going to find out who Delia Rogers was and what Delia Rogers wanted.

  Caleb. Shaw. A little garden.

  Delia blew out another breath. She wasn’t done loving Caleb Shaw, but they had some time to get through before they could meet in the middle.

  Bastard better not fall in love with someone else or she might be right back here for assault.

  Or you’ll get over it, move on, find somewhere new to belong. A fresh start.

  Unfortunately, this Delia Rogers finally knew and admitted to herself exactly what she wanted, and assault sounded a lot better than getting over anything.

  Chapter 24

  Caleb was inside the Brick House in Bartlett the minute it opened. He had a gun in the waistband of his pants and a mission. The mission helped him keep his mind off Delia in a cell and the gun on his hip.

  But it didn’t quite stop the what the hell are you doing chorus in his mind. He had a plan, but it was insane. It was insane to think he could accomplish this. But it had been insane to let his entire life get out of hand from one end of the spectrum to the other.

  So here he was.

  But thanks to Rose, he had a whole plan in place. Eddie would walk in and the bartender would give him a free beer and instruct him to sit at Caleb’s table. The place would be empty since it didn’t usually open until later in the afternoon. Caleb would keep Eddie talking until two. By then, Rose would have tipped off a county deputy about a fight in progress.

  Hopefully, the fight part was going to be a lie. But if Caleb had to ruin his sadly stitched-together reputation, he’d do it if he could get Delia back to Shaw where she belonged.

  Where they belonged.

  The door swung open and a tall guy sauntered into the bar. When he reached the bartender, the bartender gave a nod in Caleb’s direction and drew him a mug of beer.

  So this was Eddie. Delia really had shit taste in men.

  Eddie spoke with the bartender a few minutes, then glanced at Caleb before sauntering over. His smile reminded Caleb of a used-car salesman.

  “Thanks for the beer, man. What can I do for you?”

  “Take a seat.” Caleb gestured at the seat across from him. He had five minutes before the clock hit two, which meant he had to hurry, or he’d have to clock Eddie for no reason. It’d give him some joy, but it wouldn’t do well for his track record of staying out of jail no matter what shit things he’d done.

  Eddie hesitated, but it seemed Caleb’s and Rose’s assumption was right. Eddie was the kind of man who couldn’t say no to the possibility of selling a little dope. He slid into the seat, relaxed but alert. He didn’t drink his beer.

  Business first, Caleb supposed. “You know a woman named Delia Rogers?”

  The guy’s eyes squinted, but Caleb gave him credit for not reacting any other way. “Doesn’t ring any bells.”

  “To which I say, bullshit,” Caleb responded calmly, though it took everything in him.

  “Listen, buddy—”

  Caleb placed a hand over the gun at his hip. Eddie looked, as Caleb hoped he would. He wouldn’t be able to see the gun, but the gesture would make him wonder.

  “No, you’re going to listen, Eddie. Delia is sitting in Valley County Sheriff’s Department right now because of you. Now, you can do the admirable thing and go clear her or…”

  “Or?” Eddie laughed. “Let’s skip the bullshit. Why the hell would I go to the cops when I have my own warrants?”

  “Because Delia had nothing to do with your dumb shit.”

  “So fucking what? That little bitch stole from me.”

  He had to hurry this along or he’d break Eddie’s nose when he punched him. “Here’s the deal. You’re going to go outside. You’re going to find the first cop you see. You’re going to tell him who you are, what you’re wanted for. You will let him arrest you. You will go to the police station, and when they question you, you will tell them that you acted alone. Or, what we call ’round these parts, the truth.”

  “Oh, really? And why’m I gonna do all that? Who the fuck are you?”

  “Because if you don’t do all that, I will follow you. I will follow you until you are alone and vulnerable and I will shoot you. And you will die. Alone.”

  “Fuck, dude. Are you nuts? They’re some crappy drug charges. You just stay out of the way of the cops, they don’t even come looking for you.”

  Caleb didn’t say anything to that. He didn’t have to. They weren’t crappy drug charges to him. They were his and Delia’s life.

  So he held Eddie’s gaze, thought of all the things he would do to protect his family, the people he loved, and he let Eddie see he would do what he had to.

  Eddie’s eyes widened. “You’re going to threaten to kill me over it? Fuck this shit.”

  Eddie began to push away from the table, so shielding it as best he could, Caleb pulled Rose’s gun where Eddie could see it. “Sit down.”

  Eddie stopped, obviously more than a little taken aback that Caleb was acting like he meant business. “You are crazy.”

  Caleb lifted a shoulder. “Guess so. So, what’s it gonna be? A little jail time or a bullet to your brain sometime in the near future?” Caleb didn’t even have to force himself to smile—the pale pallor of Eddie’s skin was enough to tug the corners of his mouth up all on its own. This man had hurt Delia; giving him a scare was more than justified.

  Eddie didn’t move, so Caleb got to his feet as well. He put the gun back in the waistband of his pants, covering it with his shirt. But he kept his hand there so Eddie remembered.

  “Go on,” Caleb urged, half considering knocking the guy out anyway. Even though Eddie was tacitly agreeing, it’d be awfully satisfying. The only thing that kept him from acting was the gun on his person not registered to him and the cop who would hopefully be on the other side of this door.

  But they didn’t reach the door. Just a few steps away from it, Eddie grabbed a chair and swung it at him. Though Caleb saw it coming enough to dodge, it gave Eddie the chance to knock a free hand right into Caleb’s face.

  He didn’t block the punch. Physical evidence would give him some ammunition in pressing charges. So Eddie’s fist landed square on his jaw, a jarring, painful blow.

  Fucker.

  Caleb was knocked back, but he scrambled after Eddie. Eddie pushed out of the door, and Caleb followed. One step into the bright afternoon, and he saw Eddie tearing down the street, and a deputy stepping out of his cruiser.

  “Hey! That guy hit me!”

  With Rose’s perfectly timed call, presumably, it was all it took for the deputy to take off after Eddie, speaking into the radio at his shoulder as he did.

  Since the guy was alone, Caleb s
tepped back inside and walked briskly to the counter. The unfazed bartender was wiping it down, and Caleb placed the gun on the worn surface. “Get this back to Rose?” He hoped like hell, because Rose had worked this out with the guy, that they were friends enough to get each other’s firearms back to each other.

  The bartender nodded and slipped it under the bar as a different cop shoved through the door.

  “You the guy who called Valley?”

  Caleb puzzled a little over that, since Rose was supposed to be the one who’d called. “About the fight?”

  The deputy nodded, stepping forward.

  “Yeah, that was me.”

  “I’ve got a few questions for you, sir.”

  “Sure thing,” Caleb replied, trying not to smile.

  For once in his life, a plan had worked out the way it was supposed to.

  * * *

  So county jail was kind of terrible. Terrible and lonely. Delia shuddered to think of sleeping here, but the hours were ticking down and—

  “Ms. Rogers.”

  Delia blinked at the female officer unlocking the cell.

  “Come with me, please.”

  Stomach clutching with nerves, Delia did as she was told. What the hell was going on? They’d already talked to her, told her dismissively she’d have to prove she had nothing to do with it in court, after all, the county applying on warrants was pretty damning.

  She could hardly blame them. She sounded like a moron, claiming she was innocent.

  “You’re being released.”

  “Released?” The words didn’t make sense. Not after they’d ignored her pleas of innocence and told her she’d be assigned bail and a lawyer. She was led through a sort of backward progression to the way she’d come. Paperwork she had to sign, her belongings returned to her. She tried to make sense of it. “I don’t understand.”

  “Your story about not being involved was corroborated, hence the charges against you are dropped.”

  “But…”

  Efficiently, the woman returned Delia’s boots and then led her out to another part of the jail. There was Eddie, being taken through the corridor in handcuffs.