The Cowboy's Enemy

by Jessie Gussman

  “Sit on them,” she repeated.

  His jaw tightened. He wanted this. Wanted it more than he wanted to see the sun come up tomorrow.

  If he sat on his hands, it would be her making all the decisions. He didn’t want to give up that control, but he’d said he would, and he had to believe it was worth it.

  He moved slowly, putting his hands flat on the seat under his butt.

  She waited.

  “That’s where they stay.”

  He jerked his head up, not trusting his voice.

  She narrowed one eye as though sizing him up, started to move to one side, then the other. Finally, she tilted her head and lifted a shoulder like she was giving up. But she moved in front of him and put both hands on his shoulders.

  She straddled his legs and put her butt down on the end of his knees. Primly.

  It made him smile.

  She wrinkled her forehead.

  He forced his lips down. He looked at her from under hooded eyes. They just wouldn’t stay up. But he wanted to see her, because she was the only girl he’d ever want to do this with.

  “I’m not going to kiss you if you’re going to laugh at me,” she whispered.

  “I can guarantee you I’m not laughing.”

  His words were heartfelt and sincere, but her lips flattened like she didn’t like them. He’d never practiced words that would win a woman’s heart, and he wasn’t sure how to start now. She didn’t want to hear what he wanted to tell her.

  She leaned forward and tilted her head. He watched her come, feeling like it could be a dream.

  He’d eaten the darn worm, and this was what he wanted, but the nagging feeling that she was only paying a debt took away the pleasure he wanted to share.

  “Stop, please,” he whispered. His voice was hoarse and rough, as he knew it would be.

  Her face was close, her lips just a whisper away from his. Their breath mingled.

  “What?” she asked softly, her brows crinkled.

  Her weight on his legs and shoulders felt right and good, and she was almost as close as he wanted her, but... “You don’t want this. And I don’t want it if you don’t want it.” His heart hurt, his chest burned, but it was the truth.

  Her eyes searched his. “What makes you think I don’t want it?” she asked, her voice still soft.

  How could he tell her what he’d read on her face? He asked instead, “Do you?”

  Her hands came up and cupped his face, sliding against the stubble that had turned into a beard. “Abner.”

  The touch of her hand was everything he’d dreamed it would be, and he closed his eyes, wanting to pull his own hands out and slide them down her back, pulling her close, tucking her into his body, and holding her tight.

  Then, soft as a prayer at midnight, her lips touched his.

  His eyes flew open. They closed almost immediately, and he groaned, wanting to press forward, wanting more, but knowing, in some small corner of his mind, he’d given that to her to decide.

  She pressed into him lightly, her fingernails grazing the sensitive skin below his ear, and he gave under her pressure.

  Torture. This is what he’d eaten the worm for, to sit under this sweet torture. Hot as lava, cold as the Titanic’s grave, he could hardly stand it and never wanted it to end.

  He couldn’t say how long it was until she pulled back, looking far less assured than she had when she sat down.

  He didn’t have words, and she didn’t say anything either, but got up and slipped by him. A few moments later, he heard her footsteps on the stairs, then the kitchen was quiet except for the pounding of his heart and the harshness of his breath.

  Chapter 15

  The week flew past.

  Abner didn’t seem to want to talk about the kiss, and Cora didn’t know what to say, so she didn’t say anything.

  She’d kissed her share of men, and had been kissed in return, but she’d never felt like that before. She couldn’t even describe it, so she didn’t. Just pretended it didn’t happen. He’d wanted to be friends. That kiss proved to her that she’d been right. She couldn’t just be friends.

  Abner didn’t bring it up, and they fell into a routine. Kids off to school in the morning. She took care of the little ones until lunch. After that, the kids went down for a nap and she worked. He made supper. She supervised the homework, if any, and he played with the kids until bedtime.

  They had time off school for Thanksgiving and hunting season. Abner didn’t seem to be a hunter; at least, he didn’t act like he was missing anything when he took the boys outside and worked on fixing the loose siding, replacing the gutter that had fallen down, and building a whole new set of steps and railing for the porch.

  That’s just what she saw. Maybe they did more. The boys came in tired at night anyway.

  A couple of times, she wanted to ask Abner if he had a job, since he didn’t seem concerned about getting back to anything and he was never on his phone.

  Thanksgiving had come and gone. Abner and the boys had pieced together something to make mountain pies with, and the campfire in the backyard had brought back a lot of memories for her while her children had made new ones.

  It was the best Thanksgiving she could remember.

  Abner helped her get the kids upstairs and washed up, but he slipped away while she was tucking them in. Maybe to take care of the fire.

  He’d been so good to them, not just today, but since he’d come and she just wanted to make sure she thanked him.

  Plus, she had kind of been getting the idea that he might be feeling a little melancholy maybe, and she wanted to talk to him.

  But he wasn’t downstairs when she went back down ten minutes later, although the chairs were all back around the kitchen table.

  So she put a jacket on and walked outside and around the side of the house where the fire pit was.

  She didn’t see him at first, but the fire still glowed red and she moseyed over, smiling a little at the memories they’d made around it in the last week.

  She hadn’t wanted to be dependent on any man, and she still didn’t, but she could admit that Abner made things fun.

  It was not quite as easy to admit that she sought him out because she wanted to be with him.

  “Hey.”

  His voice came from the oak beside the fence and she strained to see, finally walking a few feet beyond the burning embers and then able to make out his outline sitting at the base of the tree, leaning against it.

  “Mind if I join you?” she asked.

  “Love it.” He didn’t hesitate, although his voice was low and sounded a little sad.

  She sat a quarter of the way around the tree, with her back to it. It wasn’t a massive trunk, and she could still reach behind her and touch him, although she didn’t.

  They sat in silence for a while. Low clouds racing across the moon and the wind rattling branches and causing the leaves that hadn’t yet fallen to make a sandy, rustling sound. A car went by down the block on the main street and on the other side of town a dog barked.

  Cora twisted her fingers in her lap. She’d wanted to thank him, but when she spoke, that wasn’t what she said.

  “You’ve been here over a week, yet you haven’t gone to see your Amish family. Why not?”

  She was prying. She hadn’t meant to, but that was a question that had been popping up in her mind.

  The wind swept her words away.

  Knowing that it must be a hard subject for him, but unwilling to let it go yet, she spoke gently. “When we dated before, you’d mentioned that your dad and a brother had died and you’d gone to live with your real mom. I got the feeling there was more to the story.”

  He blew out a slow breath, then spoke slowly. “There is.”

  “You don’t have to tell me, of course. You’re just so good with the kids, and you’ve been amazing with us and I wanted to thank you. I just also thought you probably have a real family who’d like to see you.”

  “No. They don�
�t want to see me.”

  “That can’t be true.”

  “I killed my dad and brother.”

  She gasped and straightened, a little spiral of fear twisting in her chest and pinching her stomach. But it was Abner, and immediately she knew there was more to the story. She leaned back against the tree, the rough bark cutting through her coat.

  “I know that isn’t what it sounds like,” she said matter-of-factly.

  “Yeah. I was on the roof and my dat and brother were standing below. Dat was explaining something to my brother and he handed up a piece of metal to me. I wasn’t ready for it – I’d taken my glove off for some reason. The edge sliced my hand when I went to grab for it. I’d have died rather than let go, but the blood made it slippery and...I just couldn’t hold it.” He blew out a breath and moved like he just couldn’t sit still. “Know how many times I’ve relived that moment? Wished I could have squeezed tighter with my hand? Or flipped the piece of metal up somehow?” He swallowed and the sound felt loud and agonized in the darkness. “Just wish I could redo. I would jump off the roof before I’d let it slip out of my hand again.”

  There was silence for a bit before he finished in a low voice. “Hit them both in the neck. Got the people in the house to call, but... no details, just neither one made it more than a couple of minutes.”

  “Oh, wow. That’s awful.” Her stomach had jerked into a quivering ball. It wasn’t hard to imagine what the sharp side of a piece of metal would do to the flesh of a man’s neck.

  “You didn’t do it on purpose. Couldn’t your mother forgive you?”

  “She wasn’t my mother.” He shifted and she turned to see him peering at her in the dark.

  “My father slept with my birth mother not long before he married his Amish wife. Then he brought me home to live with them just a few months before my brother was born. If I were mamm, I wouldn’t like me either.”

  Maybe that explained why he’d always worked so hard back when they were in school. She’d heard rumors that he’d do anything and never complain. She’d always figured he was raised that way, but maybe he’d started out trying to earn his mother’s favor. What child doesn’t want their mother to love them?

  She pulled her lips in between her teeth, hurting for the child he’d been.

  “I can see pity on your face, and I don’t need it. I’m just telling you why they don’t want to see me.”

  “What about your siblings?”

  “Saw a brother at the hardware store. We talked. They’re doing good. They know I’m doing good. He said they don’t hold any hard feelings, but...” He sighed. “I guess it’s hard to explain, but I don’t belong there. Don’t belong with my English family. Just...don’t belong.”

  She moved her hand over until it touched his and her fingers slid over his knuckles and twined with his fingers. “You made me feel like I had a real family today. Like I hadn’t screwed my life up and my kids were paying for it. It felt like a true holiday, one that belonged on the Hallmark channel.” She laughed a little, because she was way too screwed up to be on the Hallmark channel, but it hadn’t felt that way today. “I really just came out here to thank you.”

  His fingers tightened on hers. “I should be the one thanking you. Being here, with you, and your children, you guys make me feel like I belong. Finally.”

  He didn’t say anything more and neither did she.

  Eventually the embers burned out and they walked in together, separating when she went up the stairs to her room, and he walked down the hall. The sadness that had seemed to be a part of him after the kids went to bed was gone, but there was some kind of lingering tightness in her chest. She wasn’t sure exactly what it was, but she had spent almost a full day not worried about the future.

  So, therefore she made some phone calls on Friday and a large white van pulled up to her house Saturday morning while they were all still at the breakfast table.

  “Did someone just stop along the street?” Andrew asked, his head tilted. He pushed away from the table.

  “No.” Cora gave Claire a bite of egg and stood, glancing at Abner who was feeding Luna and didn’t seem the slightest bit concerned about any potential company. “I’ll check. You eat.”

  He did glance up at that, his brows a little furrowed, but he definitely didn’t suspect what she had done.

  Hopefully it wasn’t a disaster.

  By the time she reached the front door and opened it, three ladies in bonnets and black dresses with white aprons had gotten out of the van. Four men in black pants with straw hats stood with them, looking at the house.

  Cora closed the front door behind her and stepped off the porch, walking toward the group, holding her hand out.

  “I’m Cora,” she said to the man who’d moved the closest to the gate.

  “Eli,” he said. “I got your message and although Mamm wouldn’t come, the seven of us siblings wanted to.”

  “Thank you,” she said, not sure if she’d ever meant anything more. “He’s in the house and he doesn’t have any idea that I even called you or that you’re here.” She hadn’t wanted them to refuse to come and hadn’t been sure they would. Communication wasn’t easy, since none of them lived with phones in their house and they weren’t allowed answer machines. It would have hurt Abner more to know that they’d been asked to visit and refused.

  She led the way down the path, through the door and into the kitchen.

  Abner glanced up as she walked into the bright light. He did a double take, rising immediately, lines between his brows.

  Cora’s heart shivered. He didn’t look happy.

  “Iddo?” Abner said. “Eli?”

  The Amishmen smiled, their hats in their hands. “It’s us,” Eli said. “Along with John, Paul, Nancy, Mary and Sally. Anna May moved to Lancaster, Pennsylvania when she married and couldn’t come. But she wanted to be here.”

  “Mamm?” Abner almost whispered.

  Eli shook his head. “I don’t think she’s holding onto any grudges, but she didn’t want to open up all the bad memories, either.”

  Abner moved, then, around the table, holding his hand out to shake with his brothers, but they didn’t let him off with a handshake, each of them grabbing him in a bear hug that involved a lot of back slapping. Abner didn’t even try to shake with his sisters, but hugged them too.

  Cora cooked chili for lunch and Abner’s siblings were still talking to him when she put her children down for their naps.

  She had a glow in her heart at the joy that lit Abner’s face. It was too bad his mother hadn’t seen fit to come, but probably knowing that none of his siblings harbored any ill will toward him healed his heart as much as anything could.

  They left several hours before supper. Abner saw them out and came straight back in the house, going straight to Cora where she sat on the floor playing blocks with Claire.

  He knelt down beside her. “Thank you for calling them and inviting them to come.” He put his hand on her arm.

  She looked at it before she met his eyes, serious as she’d ever seen them. How could she tell him she was just happy to maybe repay just a little of what he’d done for her? How could she let him know that the debt she owed him was so much bigger than a phone call and invite?

  So, she didn’t. She just smiled and said, “You’re welcome.”

  All the cares and worries that she had somehow disappeared in the peace and contentment that radiated out from him before he moved away, taking the boys outside to fix the loose siding before supper.

  The days slipped by and Sunday dawned, cool and cloudy. Cora had two more days before she had to move and not a clue where she was going. It would have helped if more than one of the jobs she’d applied for online had come through. Working independently was nice for flexibility, but she needed a steady paycheck.

  Abner carried Luna who had bonded to him so strongly Cora almost wished he’d never come. Luna was going to be devastated when he left.

  She carried Claire, a
nd the other kids were scattered between and beside them. Like they were a real family walking to church. Odd, really. Since as far as she knew he was only there because he’d told Doug he’d stay and close up the house after Cora left.

  He’d been working hard on fixing it and letting her boys help, which made them feel capable and necessary.

  They stepped into the church, and the scent of wood and Bibles and hymnbooks mixed with the newer scent of pine sap as the windowsills were filled with greenery.

  Cora followed Abner and the children to an empty pew, and she relaxed, soaking up the spirit-soothing atmosphere.

  But a sadness tugged at the back of her mind, and she fought melancholy.

  This was her last Sunday here. The preacher asked for volunteers to decorate the greenery that had been put around, and the Christmas season schedule was announced, and she couldn’t participate in any of it.

  She wanted to put down roots. Wanted to move somewhere and stay there for the rest of her life. Wanted to raise her children in a solid environment.

  And yet, here she was, moving once again. There’d been a definite yes on one of the apartments she applied for, but it was the worst out of everything she’d applied to, and she didn’t want to move her kids there, but felt she had no choice.

  The moving van was coming tomorrow to get Aunt Sandy’s stuff.

  Yeah, the whole situation just made her exceptionally sad.

  They walked down after church and had sandwiches for lunch. Abner touched her arm as she herded the youngest four up the stairs for a nap.

  She stopped, surprised. They’d not said much of anything to each other since she’d kissed him. It’d been so long, she decided he must have hated it.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, lines appearing between his brows.

  She nodded. She’d not expected him to notice.

  “I have the boys,” he said.

  She figured as much but didn’t say anything, answering with another nod.

  He held on just a few seconds longer. She didn’t wait for him to let go, but shifted Claire in her arms and moved after her children.