Cowboy on the Run (11 page)

Consumed by an uncontrollable rage, Alan fought the heat spiking under his skin. He didn’t want to descend again. Not now. Not ever.

The drunk belted a snort of laughter. “Yeah, who’s stupid now?”

In a second flat, Jimmy was beneath him on the gravel floor of the parking lot, his throat lodged tight under his hand. The hard lump of Jimmy’s Adam’s apple securely rested in his palm, pushing against his flesh while the drunk struggled to breathe. Slow, as if in a daze, the fuzzy edges cleared, the fogginess circling like fingers of smoky air before dissipating.

Sharp as a razor now, he refused to acknowledge he’d let himself go there again. The place he fought too hard not to return to, to avoid at all costs. Perhaps it was Jimmy’s loud gasps for air or the strained bulging of the man’s eyes. Yet, he knew better. He lessened his grip, not letting go as he toyed with the drunkard.

“Whoa, whoa. I didn’t think you’d get so pissed off,” Jimmy sputtered in a dry, raspy cry.

The sound reminded Alan of autumn’s fallen leaves floating to their final resting place. He smiled. It sounded like death.

“I just figured we could make them pay somehow. You know, like we could make a deal,” Jimmy croaked, his face beet red.

The effort to speak cost him, Alan noted, retaining pressure on the man’s neck. “A deal?” Interested, he withdrew his hands and brought himself to his feet, brushing the dirt off his pants.

“Yeah, a deal, seeing how you went to college and all,” Jimmy said, sitting up and rubbing his throat.

Flinching at the word, he was thankful the drunk hadn’t seen his reaction.

“I reckon’ you’re probably pretty smart. You want her, and I owe Walker a thing or two.” The indignant man ran his tongue across his chipped tooth before clenching his jaw shut. “I figure you being so smart...you could come up with some kind of plan.”

Rubbing his chin in consideration, his thoughts ran rabid like a feverish sickness in his head. “I’ll bet I could come up with something. Are you sure you want to be a part of this...ah...deal?”

Jimmy’s answer was an enthusiastic nod, his head bobbing up and down like one of those plastic baseball bobble head players he’d collected as a kid. Now, the useless toys were in a box somewhere. Not so unlike the man before him would be one day. He released a loud chuckle, envisioning Jimmy Greenwood in a box.

“Very well, then.” He ran a finger up and down the side of Jessie’s car as his mind started getting a plan into motion. The sleek metal was cool to his touch. He spared a glance in Jimmy’s direction, the intoxicated man still seated on the gravel rubbing his throat.

He wasn’t surprised he had almost lost it like before. Lately, it had become harder to control the urge to cause pain. And it had been close this time. He could taste the man’s fear, still see the wild abandonment in his eyes. And he liked it. He licked his lips. Yeah, it’d been close this time.

Chapter 12

As soon as the bus pulled up, Nate’s nerves got the best of him. He took a deep breath and hoped for the best, wiping his sweaty palms off on his jeans. What was the worst that could happen? They were only kids, for Pete’s sake.

The first to appear was Taylor. In his usual youthful exuberance, Nate was greeted with a heartfelt hug, before the boy reconsidered his actions, and extended his hand into a handshake. Nine more boys emerged from the bus, followed by a tall willow like shadow which transformed into his smiling friend.

He shook Doyle’s hand, then, encompassed him with a hug, tossing a quick glance in Taylor’s direction. The boy returned the favor with a large smile, knowing the action redeemed his coolness status in front of the other guys.

Four of the boys, besides Taylor, Nate had worked with last year and found he was relieved, thankful he would only have to learn the traits of five new boys. Already, studying the group, he knew a few of them would still give him a challenge.

A man in his mid-twenties pulled up behind the bus in a blue extended cab Ford pick-up and a large horse trailer. Nate walked over to him, appreciative Doyle had brought another counselor to help.

“Nate Walker, it’s nice to meet you.” He shook the young man’s hand once he got out of the pick-up. “I’m glad you came. I think I might need the help,” he said, sparing a glance at the line of boys.

“Trent Mathis. Nice ranch.” The red-headed counselor returned the handshake with a firm grip. His gaze searched the landscape before he nodded his head in the direction of the boys. “And these guys...piece of cake,” he said with a smile. His freckled face transformed into a boyish expression before as he excused himself to gather the teens and help unload the bus.

Nate watched him walk away and blend into the group. The counselor wasn’t much older than the teens. Yet, the boys responded to his authority as Trent barked an order to grab their duffle bags and head to the sleeping quarters.

The teens scrambled to do as they were told as Doyle tossed the last of the bags outside the back exit. He joined Nate and they watched for a few minutes.

“Looks like Trent has this under control,” Nate remarked as the final boy disappeared into the bunkhouse.

“Yep, even though he’s not much older than a kid himself, he’s got a way about him. The boys listen to him.” He dropped the large, black duffle bag he was holding on the ground, casting a concerned stare in Nate’s direction. “You sure you’re up for this?” He questioned. His words sliced through the air in an easygoing, nonjudgmental way. “There’s nothing to it, really. You’re a natural with the boys,” the tall man reassured him before he had time to answer. “I brought along six horses to keep ‘em busy though, just in case.”

Nate nodded as Taylor raced up to the fence, interrupting their conversation with a series of questions about the ranch. His curious, brown eyes bright with the excitement of a new adventure.

J.W., alerted by the commotion, met the group by the fence, searching for a possible treat. Taylor’s eyes widened at the sight of the animal and his endless chatter came to a sudden halt, his love of horses evident on his face.

Another boy joined him, tossing a cautious glance in Nate’s direction before he and Taylor climbed the fence rails to pet the gelding.

“That’s Justin. I’ve never heard him utter more than one word at a time,” Doyle explained, scratching his head. He leaned closer to Nate, lowering his voice to explain the boy’s past without being overheard. “He has a story similar to Taylor’s, maybe worse, I’m not real sure. Nice kid, quiet...a little jumpy. He could bolt, if triggered.”

Nate nodded his head, taking in the boy. He was fair skinned with hair so blond it was white, and all too knowing, ivy colored eyes. The teen looked frail, but not broken—another boy who had seen way too much in his few years of life.

Two more boys joined them on the fence, and Nate recognized both of them. Chris, a sixteen year old with a habit for story-telling, and his cohort Stephen. The latter made an exaggerated effort to push Taylor off the fence, catching the boy before he fell off his roost. The teenager then ruffed up the younger kid’s brown mop of hair in an affectionate big brother kind of way.

“Hell, I guess we could all bolt, if triggered, isn’t that right, Nate?” Doyle stated more than asked, causing him to face him.

Uncomfortably, he placed the tip of his scuffed right boot on the bottom rail and leaned his weight into the fence. The insight of his friend’s words hit home. At the moment, he felt a little like bolting himself.

A few minutes of silence followed before a low rumble escaped Doyle and Nate caught on the man had been teasing him.

“Knock it off. I’m not going anywhere.” Nate slugged his friend on the arm, shaking off his thoughts of running. “I’m staying put. Hell, I stayed at the O-K Corral for three years and didn’t go anywhere. And there were times...” he finished with a laugh.

“Besides, why else would I have you drag these boys down?” he questioned, observing the promise of a breathtaking sunset as streaks of orange-red light spread across the horizon. It had been a long day for them all he figured as he heard two of the boys letting off some steam behind them.

Doyle released a low growl of warning to the boys and their heated words ceased immediately. The tall man shrugged his shoulders and they continued their conversation.

Nate kicked the bottom rail, speaking his thoughts out loud. “There’s just so much to do. I don’t know where to begin. Starting tomorrow, I think we’ll be repairing the fence line. So far, it’s been keeping J.W. in the pasture, but I close him up in the corral at night. I’m sure there are several repairs needed to be made. I’ll be getting more horses in few weeks. Maybe buy a four wheeler or two. I’ve got big plans for the ranch.”

“That’s a good idea,” Doyle replied, drawing his words slow and gradual. “But you can take it at your leisure. Take your time. There’s no hurry for toys. These boys would be just as happy to rebuild the fence for the summer. They just want to belong somewhere. Although, I’m sure they would enjoy the toys, too.” A wicked grin transformed his face. “Sides, I wouldn’t much object to riding one myself. I’ve been eyeing a big green Yamaha,” he admitted. “I would have already bought it had Sandy not put in her two cents.” His eyes sparkled with mention of his wife of twenty years. “The little lady likes having her say. I just bide my time. Sooner or later she’ll give in. For now, it’s just easier letting her believe she’s won the battle.”

His friend’s profound words inspired a moment of thoughtful silence. He was right. The boys just wanted to feel appreciated, even needed, which also happened to be a tender point hitting a little too close to home. Is that what he wanted also? To feel appreciated?

He ventured to a safer topic. “I guess you’ll want to get settled. Do you want to sleep in the bunkhouse with the boys or my house?”

“I’ll take a room in the house, if you don’t mind.” Doyle bent down to pick up the overstuffed, duffle bag at his feet. “I’ve spent my fair share of roughing it. Trent can bunk with the boys. ‘Sides, you and I have some catching up to do.”

He nodded and helped gather a few bags for the kids. “You go ahead into the house. Let me get these guys settled in, and I’ll join you in a few minutes. There’s some soda and a six pack of your favorite beer in the fridge.”

Doyle replied with a wide smile and a roguish wink, heading toward the direction of the house without another word. Nate shook his head with a smile. He’d be lucky to get one beer out of the six pack.

He stepped inside the bunkhouse and into the middle of a brawl over a bunk with a window view. Taylor had a younger teen named Ben pinned to the ground by the time he drew them apart.

“Whoa, now, there won’t be any knock down, drag outs here. Not over a cot, got it?”

He separated the two, a fistful of shirt collars in each hand. “Are you done? If I let you go, you’re not gonna continue to beat each other’s brains out, are you?” Both boys shook their heads.

Noticing Ben had gotten the worst of the beat down, he released his grip and handed him his handkerchief to wipe off his bloody nose.

“Now, we are gonna settle this like men,” he said, directing the question to Ben. Reaching inside his pocket, he withdrew a quarter. The boy held the bandana to his nose, but a steady stream of blood still flowed so Nate tilted the thin chin up. “What do you think, heads or tails?”

“Tails,” Ben said.

“Okay tails, but you gotta keep your head back like this, got it?” He tipped the boys chin upward again before flipping the quarter in the air. The coin landed on the floor, heads up

Taylor released a yelp of joy. “Heads, I win, loser,” he squealed, dancing a victory dance before leaping onto the cot.

Nate bent down to pick up the quarter, coming up with a swift solution so both boys would be happy. “There are no losers. Ben, how about if I let you be the first one to ride J.W.? Sound good?”

A broad smile lit the teen’s face before he gathered his duffle bag and headed for the last empty cot, flipping a finger at the other boy on the way. Taylor, in response, shrugged his shoulders as if the consolation prize hadn’t affected him.

“Don’t worry, Taylor. There will be plenty of times for you to ride J.W., too.” He ruffled the boy’s hair. Taylor released a smug smile and tucked himself neatly into the bed as Nate left the bunkhouse.

After a final check of the premises, he headed toward the house. The bright flash of lights and a sharp siren stopped him. Caught in the glow of red, white and blue, he fought the suspicion one of the boys had done something wrong.

Nothing to get too worked up about
, he told himself, maintaining a sense of clarity. Most likely just a friendly visit to make sure the boys would be kept in check. There’d been one or two such calls made at the O-K Corral also. Regardless, the intrusion was far from welcome.

“Nate Walker?”

A short, stocky man exited the vehicle. The policeman appeared entirely too young to be a cop. As a matter of fact, he could have easily passed for one of his boys, not looking much older than Trent.

“Yes,” Nate answered, crossing his arms over his chest. “Is there a problem?”

“I’m Deputy Andrews. I heard there was a bit of an altercation at the Lucky Horseshoe Bar last night? I’m just following up a lead. I understand you were one of the parties involved?”

He nodded, clamping his mouth closed, refusing to offer any more information than necessary.

Deputy Andrews paused as if observing his reaction before retrieving a notepad from his back pocket and jotting something down.

“Has there been any contact with Mr. Greenwood since the encounter?” the policeman asked.

“No,” he replied, short and sweet, which Andrews wrote on his pad.

“And I understand you’ve opened your home up to a group of disturbed teenage boys?” The deputy’s eyebrow quirked.

In an instant, Nate’s mood accelerated from slightly annoyed to a full rage. “What are you implying by
disturbed?
” The anger swept through him, demolishing his calm facade. How dare someone already have a complaint against his kids? They just got here. “My boys are just...” Attempting to regain his composure, he paused, sucking in an exasperated breath. “They are just boys. And yes, I’ve opened my home to them. Any problem I had with Jimmy Greenwood has nothing to do with them. They got here today, not last night.”