Big Chance Cowboy

by Teri Anne Stanley

She waited until Mom shut the door, then went to the closet to dig out her good red cowboy boots.

  And then she exchanged her granny panties for a thong.

  A red one.

  * * *

  What had he just agreed to? Adam cursed, rising from the couch and picking up an empty Mountain Dew can. “You guys finish without me. I’ve got to take a shower and find some clean clothes.”

  “But we’ve got the head zombie on the run!” Jake complained.

  “Didn’t you just come out of the shower?” Talbott teased. “Isn’t that what you said when you came out of the bathroom? You were totally jacking off in there, weren’t you? I knew it!”

  “Jesus Christ, I was taking a leak, not that it’s any of your business. And now I’m going back up there to take a shower.”

  “Why do you need a—holy shit. You’ve got a date, don’t you? Hey, Jake, Collins has a date with Miss Lizzie!”

  “What are you gonna wear, Sar’nt? Somethin’ pretty?” Jake asked. His ability to crack jokes was improving, a sure sign he was slowly but surely coming back to himself.

  “You should let him borrow your skinny jeans, Jake,” Talbott said. “The hipster ones that make your ass look so good.”

  Adam snorted. “I’ve got pants, thanks. But it’s not a date.” Even though he was looking forward to spending time with Lizzie. At night. In the park. Where there would be music.

  “What are you doing that requires a shower, then?”

  Adam sighed. “I’m meeting Lizzie in town at a…dance. It’s a community party with a band and shit. The mayor’s going to be there.” The mayor, who Lizzie’s mom wanted to fix her up with. Because surely an unemployed soldier with PTSD was a much better choice than the mayor. Joe Chance was only a connected pillar of the community with a professional degree and a proven record as a family man. Nice guy, too. “We both need to talk to Joe, so it makes sense to go together.” Besides, she had said she wanted his help. Before he knew what he was doing, he had opened his mouth and offered to meet her there.

  “Anyway, the dog needs practice in town,” Adam added. And so did he.

  “Which dog?” Jake ran a hand over Patton, who had perked up at the conversation.

  “D-Day.”

  “Oh.” Jake tried to hide his disappointment, but Adam caught it.

  Talbott must have, too, because he said, “You know, we don’t know what Patton is like in crowds.”

  Adam almost groaned, then felt guilty. Marcus Talbott was a social beast, practically drying up out here on the ranch, and Jake was a people person, too. Or at least he had been. He would enjoy an outing, and they should see if Patton was mellow enough for big groups of people. Just because Adam couldn’t deal with crowds, loud noises, or blonds with amazing curves and attitude didn’t mean his friends wouldn’t like to come to the dance.

  “Why don’t we all go and take both dogs?” Adam suggested. “If D-Day is too much of an asshole, one of you clowns can hang on to him while I do my thing, or I’ll sit on a bench with the dogs while you two paint the town whatever color you choose.”

  “Oh, goody! Pa’s taking us into town! I’m gonna put on my good overalls,” Talbott said, clapping his hands like the dweeb he was.

  “You put on whatever you want,” Adam said, pointing at him. “But make no mistake: if you can’t act your age, I’m not going to buy you any cotton candy.”

  “Hurry in the shower, then. The ladies are going to be so happy to see us, right, Jake?”

  “Sure.” Jake looked a little uncertain, but that was okay. Adam wasn’t sure what he was doing, either.

  Chapter 19

  Lizzie checked her watch and saw that it was two minutes later than the last time. She looked up to find the statue of Emmit Chance staring down at her, his bushy bronze eyebrows furrowed in disapproval, which didn’t help her nerves.

  Adam most likely had changed his mind. He was late, and the Tommy Blue Orchestra was already halfway through their first set. She checked her phone again. Four bars of service. Well, maybe his phone didn’t have service or battery or…

  She decided to get on with it and find the mayor so she could present her idea to him. If Adam showed up, good for him. She rose on the toe of her shiny red boots to look over the crowd of dancers and dance watchers to see if Joe Chance was nearby.

  “Lizzie! How’s it going?”

  She turned to see Emma approaching, holding her grandfather’s arm. He wore stiff new overalls, a green plaid shirt, and white patent leather shoes.

  “Emma, hi!” She gave her friend a hug.

  Mr. Collins glared around the crowd and worked his jaw, a move that Lizzie recognized as one that Adam did when he was uncomfortable.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” she told Emma. “Mr. Collins, it’s nice to see you.”

  “I know your father,” the old man said. “He’s a shyster. Just like them Chance boys.”

  “Granddad, that’s not nice,” Emma chided.

  “Anyone who’d try to take advantage of a sick man is no good in my book. I’ve got the last word on that, yes, I do.”

  “Um…” Lizzie didn’t know what to say.

  “And you make sure you watch yourself with that boy of mine. He’s going to talk you out of your panties, mark my word.”

  “Granddad!” Emma shrugged apologetically and mouthed I’m sorry—though she did it with a twinkle in her eye.

  Lizzie felt herself flush, which, added to the heat rising from the pavement, was less than comfortable.

  “Oh, look. There’s Mayor Chance. Let’s go say hello,” Emma said.

  “I’m not going to talk to that sonofabitch. I want some waffle fries.” Mr. Collins folded his arms and stuck out his chin.

  “But Joe’s our friend. Remember, he stopped over the other night?”

  “Oh. I thought you said the mayor.”

  “I did. Joe’s also the mayor.”

  A brief flash of frustration and fear flashed through Mr. Collins’s eyes before he covered his feelings by reclaiming his mask of anger. “Talk later. Waffle fries now.”

  Emma was the poster child for patience. “Okeydokey. Do you want to share an order with me?”

  “Hell no, I want my own. You’ll hog them all.”

  Emma’s laugh disappeared with them into the crowd.

  Lizzie turned to see Joe Chance walking toward her, his blond hair neatly cut and shining in the lights that twinkled from the trees in the growing darkness. His shoulders were wide, if a little stooped from the weight of the world he no doubt carried around with him, but he smiled at Lizzie, and she recognized the all-American she’d been friends with when they were younger. She imagined meeting Joe here for the dance, but it didn’t feel right.

  “Lizzie, it’s good to see you,” Joe said, pulling her into a hug. “You look great!”

  She blushed, especially when a group of women turned to see who Joe was complimenting. They gave her the once-over—from the top of her overdue-for-a-touch-up highlighted hair, along the too tight and suddenly uncomfortable dress, down to the tips of her probably dumb cowboy boots. They turned away and put their heads together—to rip her to shreds, no doubt.

  “I’m glad you made it out tonight. I’m sorry it’s been so hard to get together, but the babysitter has the flu, and everything else that could’ve gotten worse, well, got worse.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. I don’t want to take up too much of your time.”

  He waved a hand through the air. “An audience with the mayor is first-come, first-served at the moment. I want to hear this great idea you emailed me about. Besides,” he confided, leaning closer, “if I’m busy, maybe I won’t have to judge the dance competition.” He straightened and grinned with a mock shudder.

  Now that the moment was here, she was terrified that Joe would laugh at her. It was such
a weird plan. Then she thought about her dad and how his eyes lit up any time she talked to him about it. She took a deep breath and let fly. “I’m interested in buying some property out on Mill Creek Road—you remember the old farm that Mitch Babcock’s family owned? I want to turn it into a working historical park. Part education, part recreation, all good for the town.”

  His eyebrows went up. “A historical park. In Big Chance. Where did this come from?”

  “My dad and your great-grandpa, actually.” She pointed up at the statue of Emmit. “My dad’s always been fascinated with the history of Big Chance—with the miniature gold rush that started things in the mid-1800s. The historical facts are yet to be confirmed, but he’s told me a lot of stories.”

  Joe laughed. “I’ll bet he has. I remember some of those stories. My dad said they were tall tales, but one of my cousins has a ring she swears was made with gold that Emmit found.”

  “I wonder if you heard the same stories I did.”

  “I don’t know, but I bet the ones I heard weren’t any more true.”

  Lizzie nodded her agreement. Not that her dad would ever lie, but as stories were passed down, the facts tended to shift. “I don’t think it really matters if there was any gold. The whole Wild West gold rush thing captured my dad’s imagination, and now he’s…well, he’s got cancer—did you know that?”

  “Yes, I did hear that. I’m sorry. How’s he doing?”

  She nodded in thanks. “He seems to be okay, but he’s been a little depressed, and I got this crazy idea, and he was interested, and now…well, now we think it could be a real thing, if we can muster community support. I drove out to Mill Creek a couple of weeks ago, and it occurred to me that maybe we could find a way to turn the area into something that would help the town—and make my dad happy at the same time.”

  “I’m listening.” And he was. His intensity was a little disconcerting, actually.

  “I know you’ve been starting some community improvement projects—getting the senior citizens and middle schoolers to run the recycling center is brilliant, by the way.”

  “Thanks. I told them they could sell all the scrap they gathered, and they’ve decided to turn around and start a community garden.”

  And didn’t that add a little something to Lizzie’s growing project idea…

  “So anyway, there’s this land just sitting out there,” she continued, unable to stop now that she was on a roll. “It’s not too far from town. What if we bought that land and started improving it, a little at a time? Maybe we can get someone with large equipment to donate time and get it cleared. Then the school kids can take on different parts of the work, like making paths and researching the history of gold mining, and turn it into a resource. Heck, your senior citizens could even put their garden out there if they want.”

  Joe pursed his lips in thought. “You know, you might be onto something here. Can you write up a proposal? There’s nothing in the budget for this, but—”

  He was going for it. Not sure she believed her luck, she said, “I think a few fundraisers and some business support might be enough to get it started. So we can start off small—with a community park—but then make improvements. Maybe even put in ball fields, a dog park, walking paths… Who knows? Maybe we can turn Big Chance into a tourist destination—rent a cabin for a weekend and do some old-time panning for gold?”

  Joe gave her an admiring look. “I like the way you think.”

  Lizzie was thrilled. He liked the idea.

  She began to let the little seed of hope in her chest take root. “The only problem here is…I can’t figure out who actually owns the place.”

  “Adam Collins asked about that property, since it backs up to his. I couldn’t remember anything, but surely there’s something in the tax records.”

  She shook her head. “Nope. Dad said he remembers the Babcocks selling it right before they left town, though he didn’t broker the deal, and there doesn’t seem to be any record of who it went to.”

  Joe sighed. “I’ll look into it. Not that collecting the back property taxes are going to put Chance County into the black, but there’s got to be a record of something, somewhere.”

  “That would be great. And I’ll work on that proposal. If I can get some sort of formal approval from you and the city council, I can start soliciting donations,” she said.

  “Sounds like a plan,” Joe said. “I know a few people who might be willing to chip in.”

  “Terrific,” Lizzie said, pulling out her phone to take notes.

  She was so excited that she almost didn’t notice that there was no apologetic text or missed call from Adam.

  * * *

  Adam had to park three blocks away from the square, and he was already late. He picked up the pace and tugged at the long sleeves of the button-up shirt he’d put on. It was all wrong for the sweltering night and his propensity for anxiety sweat, but Talbott had told him to wear it, and it was clean, so Adam hadn’t argued.

  It had been a pain in the ass getting everyone ready to leave the ranch, and his tension was sky-high by the time they passed the “Welcome to Big Chance” sign.

  For such a tiny town, the gathering had attracted a lot of visitors. Always on the lookout for things that didn’t belong—even here in Big Chance—he noticed several cars and trucks with license plates from out of state. People must be really hard up for entertainment. On the other hand, it should be good for Lizzie’s plan to perk up Big Chance.

  “Slow down, man,” Talbott complained. “You don’t want to seem too eager, do you?”

  He eased up; he didn’t want to be completely sweat-soaked when he got to the town square. But honestly? He was eager. Lizzie’s call had ignited the first positive feelings he’d had in the week since she’d practically run from his house after they kissed, and he jumped at the chance to see her. He did have some papers for Joe, but that was an excuse. Nothing was earth-shattering enough to chase the man down on a holiday.

  Lizzie’s kiss had awakened something inside him—an aching need to know more of her soft, welcoming body and her kind, generous heart—though he reminded himself to keep his eyes on the prize. He was going to sell the ranch, satisfy his debts, and get out of town.

  Meanwhile, he was here to make sure D-Day could behave himself in town, not coax Lizzie to slip her fingers into the front of his jeans.

  The sounds and smells of the party found him before they reached the town square. Music and the chatter of voices, a few children laughing and shouting, and the scents of fried pastry and smoked meat beckoned him forward.

  The retriever was pretty mellow at the end of Talbott’s leash, but D-Day was squirrelly, picking up on the energy of the crowd. He kept trying to tug at his leash. He had to learn to stay next to his handler no matter what the circumstances, so Adam had to stop every few steps to regain D-Day’s attention. The closer they got to the square, the more kids showed up wanting to pet the dogs, which just stirred everyone up more.

  It wasn’t keeping the dog calm that twisted Adam’s shorts in a knot; it was the kids. He was used to working with dogs who thought small humans were fair game for snacks. Tank had been nearly uncontrollable when it came to kids. He’d been the best explosives detector Adam had ever worked with—until he wasn’t—but he required constant vigilance when Adam had him in public.

  D-Day, on the other hand, seemed to want nothing more than to bathe every child he met with a long, wet tongue.

  And the kids loved that shit.

  Their parents, probably not so much, but Adam didn’t see a whole lot of adult supervision occurring. Weren’t American parents notorious for monitoring every breath their kids took? What was wrong with the people of Big Chance? Did they think it was some sort of magically safe place?

  And when did he become the old lady on the corner who calls the police if you walk on her grass?

&n
bsp; The streets next to the town square had been blocked off, and little kids ran around like rabbits, jumping and squealing. Two sets of teenagers—a few girls, and a few boys—faced off around the back end of a booth, the boys wrestling and impressing the hell out of the giggling girls. Or not.

  The food vendors had set up here, at the south end of the square, and the band was at the north end, using the wide courthouse steps as their stage. The closer Adam got, the better the band sounded. They were actually pretty damned good. He couldn’t see yet, but he could hear a guitar that would make Eric Clapton weep.

  He emerged from between the frozen crap truck and the baked crap booth into a crowd of thousands—or so it seemed. The trees in the park were strung with twinkling white lights and multicolored lanterns, but the light barely touched the faces of the hundred or so people within spitting distance. How was he supposed to find Lizzie in this mess?

  D-Day stopped, sat, and pressed against Adam’s leg, apparently realizing this was way more people than he expected. Maybe it didn’t know how to deal with them. Or maybe it just realized that Adam didn’t know how to deal with them.

  “It’s cool, bud. We got this,” he told the dog.

  “Is that where we’re supposed to meet her? Over by that mean-looking motherfucker?” Talbott asked.

  Adam looked where Talbott pointed at the statue of Emmit Chance, town founder.

  He didn’t see Lizzie, but leaning against the base of the statue was the mayor himself. He was talking to a woman with her back to them. She was in a crazy-ass, fifties-looking dress. It was one of those things that tied around the back of her neck, leaving her round shoulders and soft arms bare. The dress dipped in to her waist before spreading out in a full skirt above a pair of gleaming red cowboy boots, sparkling with silver gemstones under the festive lights. The woman said something, and Joe laughed.

  “Whoa,” Talbott murmured. “Sexy. I wonder what she looks like from the front.”

  She was kind of interesting, Adam thought, but where the hell was Lizzie? Well, he might as well talk to Joe since he was here. Adam didn’t want to interrupt the guy, in case he was trying to get lucky with Not Bettie Page, but he didn’t want to lose Joe to the crowd, either. And Adam wanted to hand over the papers he’d found the other day cleaning out the horse shed. Probably nothing, but they sure looked official, and Adam needed to make sure they had everything together when he sold the ranch.