Big Chance Cowboy

by Teri Anne Stanley

  “That’s, ah, ambitious,” he said. He could almost picture it. “How is this going to work?”

  “In stages. First, we need a community gathering point. They’re gonna build a new courthouse in town, and that’ll use up the space in front of the current one. The reason I went out to the Mill Creek farm in the first place today was because I wanted to see if it can be turned into a park with a historical side, to show the geology of the area, the natural resources, then teach people about which groups of Native Americans lived here before the gold miners and the cattle ranchers and farmers.” Lizzie pointed over her shoulder. “Downtown’s got such cool retro potential. If it were an attractive place to live, more business might move in.”

  He snorted. “You want to make Big Chance a tourist destination? You think you can drive commerce here?”

  “Well, maybe.” She tensed, and he figured she thought he was about to crap on her idea.

  It was his turn to surprise her. “I think that’s awesome. If anyone can do it, it would be you.”

  “Oh.” She blinked. “Thanks.”

  He meant it, too. She had some sort of force field that attracted people—and it wasn’t just him. Talbott and Jake liked her—which, yeah, could be marked up to sex appeal—but Emma, who he was pretty sure was straight, mentioned Lizzie every time he spoke to her, and that girl at the Dairy Queen had started spilling her whole life story as soon as Lizzie asked her name. No, it was some sort of magic Lizzie mojo, and Adam wasn’t immune to it.

  “So tell me why you’re so anxious to leave,” she prodded. “Is it the job market or something else?”

  “I never wanted to stay here,” he told her, the old fears and heartbreak swelling in his chest and spilling out. “It’s stupid, but living here in Big Chance meant our parents were never coming back.” He couldn’t believe he’d said that, but Lizzie seemed to draw out the dumb-ass confessions. Why hadn’t he kept her at arm’s length?

  “I’m so sorry,” she said, no condescension or pity in her voice but empathy in the way she touched his arm.

  He lifted his hand to run it through his hair, gently brushing her away and missing the heat the second it was gone. “I was a pretty angry little kid, and I blamed the place, because I couldn’t blame the people.”

  “Your mom and dad?”

  “I said it was stupid. Their car wreck was an accident.”

  “And we have no control over accidents.”

  Like not finding a bomb before half of everyone you cared about got blown up. Fortunately, the mailbox at the end of the ranch’s driveway came into view, and he was saved from responding.

  * * *

  She’d certainly managed to push all the man’s painful memories into the light tonight, hadn’t she? Way to build a friendship, Lizzie. Especially when he was so supportive of her half-baked ideas for Big Chance. Should she apologize? Before she could come up with the right words, they were at the ranch, and Adam was stopping his truck next to her car.

  The house was dark, save for a bluish light flickering through the living room windows. When Adam cut the engine and turned off the headlights, the yard was plunged into near complete darkness. When she got out, however, her steps around the front of the truck were lit by the moon that hung heavily over the trees. Crickets sang and a frog called out for a mate from the brush.

  “Wow,” she whispered, looking up. “The stars are really bright.”

  “Yeah, it’s pretty dark out here,” he answered, closing the driver-side door and stopping a few feet away from her. “I should get one of those automatic lights on top of the barn.”

  The real estate agent in Lizzie should have agreed, but she waved up at the incredible celestial show spread above them, and said, “But then you wouldn’t be able to see that.”

  Adam didn’t answer. When she looked at him, she saw that he was watching her, inscrutable as always. The moonlight made the angles of his face sharper, the planes harder, his eyes dark and dangerous. She couldn’t look away.

  She licked her lips, and he tracked the motion, his chest rising and falling as the night air grew thicker.

  “Listen, I don’t usually—” he started.

  “I shouldn’t have—” she said at the same time, and they both broke off, letting the night sounds fill the space between them.

  He took a step closer, and her breath stuttered. He was so strong and handsome and alone, and she wanted to touch him, to reach into his heart and let him know that he didn’t have to shoulder all the burdens that he carried, but she knew he wouldn’t welcome that from her.

  Yet she couldn’t turn away, couldn’t keep herself from looking at his lips, from noticing that he glanced at her mouth, too.

  A sudden splash of light from the front of the house broke through the darkness and shattered the moment.

  “Hey, did you guys pick up any beer on your way through town?” Marcus called.

  “No, but there was almost a whole twelve-pack in the fridge this morning,” Adam said, stepping back.

  “Yeah, well, something happened. You might have a gremlin or something. Oh shoot. Is that the real estate agent with you? Lizzie, just pretend you didn’t hear that. We’ll get the exterminator out, and it won’t be a problem.”

  “I don’t know if I can get an exterminator to get rid of pests that big,” Adam muttered.

  “Hey, watch out!” Marcus’s silhouette jerked back as excited yipping broke out and the black blur that was D-Day galloped through the darkness.

  “Sit!” Lizzie barked out without thinking, and as proof that small miracles do occur, D-Day heard and all but skidded to a stop inches away from her toes. “Good boy,” she said, giving him a quick ear rub.

  “How are…the puppies?” Jake asked, following Marcus onto the porch.

  “I think they’re going to be okay,” Lizzie answered. “The vet said he’d call with an update tomorrow morning.”

  “That’s good,” Marcus said, then pointed at Jake. “This guy’s so worried, he couldn’t concentrate to play Dead Rising for shit tonight.”

  “I’m brain damaged, asshole,” Jake said. “What’s…your excuse?”

  “Ouch.” Marcus laughed. “Brain damaged, my ass. All that bomb did was lower your IQ back into human range.”

  Adam chuckled and shook his head. He rubbed a hand over his hair and turned to Lizzie, looking suddenly uncertain. “So you’re coming out tomorrow for dog training?”

  Wait. Had she missed something? “Is that still okay?”

  “Yeah. Of course. I wasn’t sure…never mind.”

  He’d talked to her more tonight than he had in all the days they’d been training D-Day put together, and she wondered if he thought he’d somehow scared her off. Unfortunately for her and her libido, he’d done the opposite. She wanted to know more about what went on inside his head…and his heart.

  For a moment there, before Marcus came outside, she thought he might even kiss her—but no, that was silly.

  She cleared her throat. “I’ll be here.”

  His face was dark, with both the moon and the house lights behind him, but she thought he smiled when he said, “Good. That’s…consistency’s important.”

  “Thanks for dinner,” she said as she opened her car door and got in.

  “You’re welcome,” he said, closing the door after her.

  He looked like he might bend to say something to her through the open window, but then he patted the roof of the car and stepped back. She started the engine and backed up to turn toward the road and home, but then realized she hadn’t thanked him for helping her save the pit bulls.

  She stuck her head out of the window and called, “Hey!” at his retreating back.

  “Yeah?” He turned to face her.

  “Thanks for coming when I needed you today.”

  His expression was shaded by the
night, but his words were bleak when he said, “Don’t do that. Don’t need me.”

  Chapter 11

  A couple of days after the Great Dog Rescue, as Talbott decided to dub the event, Adam parked his truck outside his sister’s tiny cottage and took stock of his surroundings. D-Day waited impatiently on the seat next to him. The dog would be useless as a watchdog, would most likely drag a robber to the silverware drawer, but as a companion, it had potential. For whoever finally adopted it, anyway.

  He got out of the truck and held the door, waiting for D-Day to stop bouncing before saying, “Come on.” The dog jumped out and stayed right with Adam as he mounted the front steps.

  Even stashed behind the Feed and Seed in the middle of a gray, dried-up downtown, Emma managed to bring a splash of nature to her digs. A hanging basket next to the front door spilled a waterfall of blue and white flowers nearly to the stoop. On the bottom step, a damned combat boot sprouted little cactus things from holes punched here and there in the leather. The little yard was surrounded by the backsides of the farm and hardware store to the right and a defunct bakery to the left. Mostly cinder block, the buildings were disconcertingly reminiscent of the villages Adam and Tank had regularly searched in Afghanistan. The dry, compacted ground, dust blowing in hot wind…it was hard to process. Being in town was always hard, but this place gave his brain mixed messages—home, danger, deserted village, innocent town. A bead of sweat slid along his hairline, and he once again found himself reaching to pat D-Day on the head.

  Adam could hear Granddad complaining before he rang the doorbell.

  “You’re here! Good!” Emma said when she opened the front door. “The lawyer’s gonna be here in a couple of minutes.”

  Hopefully in very few minutes. He forced a slow breath in and out.

  “Don’t let the air-conditioning out!” a querulous voice called from behind his sister.

  Adam stepped into the cool interior, quickly scanning the room—kitchen area to the left, living room and hallway to bedrooms on the right. Well-lit, tidy, not many hiding places. D-Day pressed against Adam’s legs, nudged his hand for a pet. He complied.

  Granddad sat in a recliner near a small television. Every time Adam saw the man, he was shocked to realize his granddad was so old. Shrunken.

  He peered at Adam, suspicion narrowing his cloudy eyes. “Who are you?”

  “It’s Adam, Granddad. He moved back to Big Chance,” Emma said.

  “Adam’s in the army. Over there killing them Bin Laden assholes.”

  If only Adam were there right now. Not the first time he’d had that thought—Bin Laden was long gone, but there was still plenty of work to do. But no. He couldn’t do it anymore. He was here with Granddad, having the same conversation every time he came to visit.

  Emma shot him a sideways smile that reminded him she’d been dealing with this shit for much longer than the few months Adam had been back in Big Chance.

  The room narrowed, and his vision darkened. Crap. He didn’t have time for a panic attack right now. His breath stuck in his chest until he felt D-Day’s ears under his fingers. He focused on the act of petting the dog, let the patchy fur anchor him in the present, where he was fine. Just fine.

  “Are you okay?” Emma rested her hand on his arm, guiding him to a chair like he was a damned invalid, handing him a glass of iced tea.

  Iced tea. Amber liquid, melting ice, fresh lemon. Sweet and cold, it chased the imaginary dust in his throat. He hadn’t had Emma’s sweet iced tea in the army. He was in Big Chance, here to sign paperwork to extend the time frame of their power of attorney for Granddad’s care and finances.

  Better. He couldn’t be a basket case when the lawyer got there—he didn’t want the man to think he wasn’t competent. But wasn’t that part of the reason he’d decided to sell the ranch? So he could make sure there was enough money to take care of Granddad and Emma. Put it somewhere safe so when Adam finally lost his shit for good, he’d know they’d be all right.

  “What’s that?” Granddad asked, pointing at D-Day. “You call that a dog?”

  “Some people do,” he said.

  “What are you gonna do with it?”

  Adam shrugged. “Teach it a few things so someone will want to adopt it.”

  “You should keep it. Since you don’t have a girlfriend out there to keep you warm at night.” Granddad snickered, having shifted back to recognizing Adam. “Come here, dog.”

  D-Day looked at Adam and, at Adam’s nod, approached Granddad and nudged his hand. Granddad rubbed the dog’s head, and D-Day sighed with pleasure.

  “There’s a hole in the barn roof,” Granddad said now, drifting back into some long-ago conversation. “Go find that ladder and put some plastic over the kennels on that side. That’ll keep ’em dry until we get the leak fixed.”

  “Okay,” Adam agreed. He could pretend he was going to fix a hole in the roof, just like he could pretend to be sane and sensible. “Anything else?”

  “When did you get back?” Granddad asked now. “How many a’ them Bin Ladens did you kill?”

  “Hey, Granddad,” Emma said. “I think Joe’s here. Do you mind if we turn off Judge Judy for now?”

  “I don’t know why. Lawyers ought to love that show. Teach ’em all how to work right.”

  * * *

  Thirty minutes and God only knew how much per hour for a house call later, Adam and Emma had their responsibilities squared away. Adam walked outside with Joe—who had not been Lizzie’s boyfriend, ever. But still. Joe Chance was not only the mayor and a lawyer, he was instigator of the wonderful recycling program. Oh, and grandson of the bank president. An all-around good guy, Adam reluctantly admitted to himself. You couldn’t hate him for being perfect. It wasn’t his fault; it was genetics.

  “Thanks for coming by, Joe,” Adam said, shaking the man’s hand as they stepped down from the porch. While Adam had been scowling around Big Chance his senior year, waiting for graduation and trying not to get arrested before he left for basic training, Joe had been a squeaky-clean freaking Eagle Scout. Even if Lizzie hadn’t been his girl back then, he was single now. So why wasn’t she calling him to help her rescue puppies and giving him the big sexy eyes? Joe would be a better choice for her.

  Oblivious to Adam’s inner dialog, Joe nodded. “Not a problem. I hadn’t seen your grandfather in a while. I’m glad my dad talked him into putting this together when he started getting confused. It’s difficult to let go of control. He must trust you two a lot.”

  Adam had never thought of it that way. He’d been focused on the burdens of the situation—mainly that the old guy was a cranky pain in the ass who needed constant supervision so he didn’t wander into traffic.

  “I wanted to talk to you without Emma,” Adam told Joe. “This is between you and me for now. I haven’t told her yet, but I’m going to sell the ranch soon, and I’ll need to set up some sort of trust so Emma doesn’t have to keep Granddad at home. I want to use the money to move him somewhere and give her some savings, too.”

  Joe nodded. “Okay. We can do that.” He handed Adam a card. “Give me a call or come by later in the week. I’ve got to go right now—my cousin’s new tattoo shop is having its grand opening today, and I promised to stop by.”

  Adam was surprised. The ultraconservative Chance family had spawned a rebel tattoo artist?

  He might just have to stop by himself.

  * * *

  “Thanks, Rob. I’ll be out tomorrow afternoon to pick them up,” Lizzie told the veterinarian and then ended the call.

  “Who’s that?” Dad asked.

  “Rob Chance. The veterinarian. Remember I told you about finding those puppies the other day? They’re almost ready to come home…er, go to Adam’s place.”

  “Oh yeah.” Dad coughed weakly into an enormous red bandanna and then lay his head back on the headrest of his leather r
ecliner, closing his eyes.

  “Dad? Do you want some water?” She picked up the half-filled glass on the end table and held it out to him. A whiff of gin burned her nose. “Ohhhkay,” she said, carrying the glass to the kitchen and dumping it. She found a fresh one and filled it with ice and water from the fridge.

  “What did you do with my drink?” Dad bellowed but then modulated his tone when she reappeared with the water. He narrowed his eyes but didn’t comment when she handed it to him. With a weak cough, he sipped and put it on the table, hand shaking.

  Lizzie narrowed her own eyes. She suddenly had a sneaking suspicion that he wasn’t feeling quite as miserable as he would have her—and her mother—believe.

  “What have you been up to?” he asked her.

  “Well…” In a perfect world, she’d do this all on her own and make it a fabulous, tear-jerking surprise with an Extreme Home Makeover-type reveal. But this was her world, and she needed help. “Remember Mill Creek, where all the kids used to go to have, um, picnics and stuff when I was in high school?”

  “You mean the old Babcock place, where all the kids used to go to drink beer and make out?” he asked, straight-faced.

  “Mmm, that’s probably the same place.”

  “It’s also where I think my grandfather had his claim, you know.”

  “I think you’ve mentioned that a time or two.” Or two million. “Do you have any documentation about all that? I’m kind of interested in the history of the place.”

  He shook his head. “Nope. Just the stories Grandpa told.”

  “I wonder if there’s anything at the courthouse.” She’d already come up empty on current information, but maybe there’d be a clue in something from farther back—if she knew where to look.