No Ordinary Cowboy. Marin Thomas
a jumble of tangled thoughts after running into Lucy along the highway then dealing with a stubborn dog and a mulish Cal Durango.
“Problems at work?”
In his line of duty there were always problems. “No.” He watched his mother dish out the chicken pot pie she’d made for their once-a-week supper together. “I ran into Lucy Durango today.”
“Oh?”
“Maddie took off and Lucy was out searching for her.”
“Did you find the dog?” His mother set their plates on the table and sat down.
“Yeah.” He omitted the part where Maddie had waited for Lucy to leave before approaching Tony. His mother would insist the dog missed Tony and that he should visit Maddie once in a while—as if Lucy’s father would allow him near the dog, never mind his daughter.
“Mr. Bonner lost his cat last week—flattened by a semitruck.”
“Nice visual before we eat,” Tony said.
“Sorry. No more animal talk at the table.”
Tony would be lying if he didn’t admit that he missed Maddie and all the dog represented—a friendship with Michael that had begun with an I-dare-you game on a school playground and had evolved into a brotherly bond. Tony had lost a part of himself when his best friend died, and Maddie brought to the surface all the pain buried inside him.
“How did you do at the rodeo last weekend?” His mother’s brown eyes twinkled as they roamed over Tony. “You’re not sporting a cast or bandages.”
“I got thrown.” Tony was twenty-seven, but some days he felt like an old man. He used to be a decent bull rider before he’d begun working for the border patrol. Now he was lucky if he lasted eight seconds on the back of a bull in one out of ten rodeos. He should retire his spurs, but he was reluctant to give up those few hours a month when he could keep his memory of Michael alive.
“Any news on the transfer?” his mother asked.
“Not yet.” Six months ago, after two years of pretending he’d moved on from Michael’s death and his affair with Lucy, he’d finally admitted that he wouldn’t be able to put the past behind him until he left Stagecoach.
“The cost of living is much higher in California.”
His mother was not in favor of her only child leaving town. Tony would miss his mom, but San Diego wasn’t so far away that he couldn’t make a monthly trip to Stagecoach. “You could relocate to America’s Finest City with me.”
“I’m comfortable at my job, honey. I don’t want to start at the bottom of the waitress ladder.”
“I bet Juan would move with you.” His mother and the grill cook at the truck stop had been dating for several years but his mother wasn’t interested in tying the knot—her heart still belonged to Tony’s father.
“You haven’t said how Lucy’s doing.” His mother quirked an eyebrow.
“She’s fine.”
“Just fine?”
Actually, Lucy was more than fine. After two years of catching only glimpses of her from a distance, seeing her up close at the rodeo had stolen his breath. Her smile had reminded him that he’d lost more than his best friend because of a stupid lapse in judgment. He’d also lost the girl who’d captured his heart. Tony shoveled a forkful of food into his mouth, chewed and swallowed. “Lucy was at the rodeo last weekend.”
“Really?”
He had been more than a little surprised he’d bumped into her in the cowboy ready area. After Michael died, the Durangos quit attending rodeos, while Tony continued to ride, wanting to hold on to the one thing that had been a huge part of his friend’s life.
“I noticed the Pony Express van parked in front of Gilley’s Tap House the other night.”
Never in a million years had Tony believed Lucy would start up her own business in Stagecoach. No one talked about it—at least not out loud—but it didn’t take a genius to understand that the free taxi service was Lucy’s way of honoring her brother’s memory. The van served as a solemn reminder of how Tony had failed his best friend.
“You’re awfully quiet,” his mother said. “What’s wrong?”
“I’ve got a lot on my mind.”
“Still no leads on the Mexican gang smuggling girls across the border?”
“No.” But he was positive that if border patrol agents staked out the Durango Ranch, they’d catch the bastards transporting their human cargo through the desert.
“I hope you get a break in the case soon.” His mother pointed to Tony’s plate. “Do you have room for seconds?”
“No, thanks.” He carried his plate to the sink. “I’ll tighten the bathroom faucet before I leave.”
“You’re not staying?”
Unless he received an emergency call from work, Tony watched TV with his mother for an hour or two after supper. Approaching the anniversary of his best friend’s death, he wouldn’t be good company, so he fibbed. “I’ve got paperwork to catch up on.”
“I made the cake for you.”
“Juan will appreciate your chocolate cake.”
“He’s on a diet.” Juan was a big man who made no apologies for his big appetite.
While his mother cleared the table and washed the dishes, Tony went outside and unlocked the storage shed. His father’s tool kit sat on the ground inside the door. A half hour later, Tony had fixed the bathroom faucet, oiled a squeaky doorjamb and loosened the sticky window at the front of the trailer. Then he kissed his mother goodbye and headed to Yuma.
He’d only driven a few miles when he found himself parked in front of the Saguaro Cactus Lounge, staring at the blinking Budweiser sign in the window. Some days, life called for a beer.
Today was one of them.
* * *
“DON ’ T WORRY , H ECTOR . You stay home tonight and feel better. I’ll be out soon to pick up the van.” Lucy disconnected the call.
Poor Hector. One of his granddaughters was taking a culinary class in Yuma and had cooked a chicken sausage seafood gumbo for the family. Hector had barely made it back home before being hit with food poisoning.
Lucy left her office in the barn and returned to the house for her purse. Dinner would be on the run tonight.
“Where are you off to?” her mother called out.
Lucy put the brakes on outside the sun room where her mother sat reading. “Hector’s not feeling well. I’ll be handling the calls for the Pony Express tonight.”
The lines bracketing her mother’s mouth deepened, but she refrained from voicing her disapproval. “Call when you get to Hector’s.”
Lucy swallowed a sharp retort and left the house. A twenty-four-year-old shouldn’t have to report in to her mother, but Michael’s death had changed the family dynamic in more ways than size. Sonja Durango wanted to know every move her daughter made. Full of guilt, Lucy had been happy to keep her mother informed of her whereabouts, believing it would only be a matter of time before she got over her fear of something happening to Lucy. But months turned into a year, and now two, and still her mother hadn’t eased up on monitoring Lucy’s activities.
The drive to Hector’s took twenty minutes. He lived in the foreman’s cabin on the Ace of Spades Ranch, west of Stagecoach. Bill Gunderson no longer ran cattle on his land now that he and his wife spent half the year on the East Coast with their son’s family. In exchange for watching over the property, Hector lived there rent-free.
When she pulled up to the cabin,