Cowboy on the Run (8 page)

She turned away from the mirror, certain water alone couldn’t fix her troubles.

Chapter 7

“Hello, beautiful.”

Nate held the phone away from his ear, prepared for the shrill scream sure to follow. Sandy didn’t disappoint as an excited shriek broadcasted from the receiver.

“Nate? Nate, honey, is that you? Doyle, come here...you won’t believe who is on the phone!” Sandy shouted both to her husband and into the phone.

He chuckled, picturing the short blonde, a cup of coffee in one hand while motioning to her husband with some kind of baked pastry in the other. Doyle would be by her side, towering a good two feet taller than his stocky wife, an exact opposite.

Where they differed in looks, however, they made up in heart. Hands down, they were two of the most giving, loving people he had ever met.

“How’s life at the O-K Corral?” Nate grinned, loving her reaction to his call. “How are the boys?”

“The boys? They’re fine. Everybody’s fine,” Sandy blurted out, her words released in a rushed flurry. “There are just too damned many of them.” She paused, only for a moment, laughing at her joke. “We have more boys than we have room for. As a matter of fact, I even have your cot occupied.”

No doubt she was overloaded with caffeine. He drank some of his own poison, savoring the perfect cup of coffee. A dark, murky blend, thick as mud.

“Some of them are even sleeping on the floor,” she rambled on.

Nate nodded, even though she couldn’t see him. He didn’t want to interrupt, missing her rash habit of saying whatever was on her mind. Her lack of a filter quite endearing. His grin broadened, wishing he were sharing breakfast with the two of them.

“You probably don’t need to know that, do you? Anyway, we all miss you, son.” She paused to take in a breath and another chuckle escaped him. She hadn’t stopped talking, even to breathe, since answering his call.

“When are you coming home?”

His grin disappeared as he imagined the concern lining her face. She was such a worrier. Guilt pooled in his gut knowing he added to her anxiety, a blessing and a curse. Although, he had to admit, it was kind of nice having someone care. And despite Sandy being less than twenty years his senior, she had filled the role of a mother figure quite well.

He had been lucky. Landing a gig at the O-K Corral was one of the best things to ever come his way, changing the rocky path his life was headed for.

Time to pay it forward.

“I’m not,” he said, letting her down gently. “I’ve had a change of plans. That’s the reason I’m calling. You know my father’s ranch...ah...my ranch now. It’s just...there’s a lot of land, and I was thinking about...” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “Well, I want to do what you and Doyle are doing. I want this to be a place for the boys. A boy like I was.”

There. It was out. He breathed a loud sigh of relief as the words hung brittle in the air, untouched for a moment. The truth had been the one thing he had been scared of admitting, especially to Sandy and Doyle. His rough past had never been a secret, but the couple had never forced him to talk about it. Nor would they ever condemn him, pouring salt in an open wound.

Proving his point, Sandy ignored his confession, going straight to the heart of his statement.

“A lot of land, huh? How much room do you have?” She didn’t give him time to answer. “There’s some paperwork you’ll have to fill out. You know government stuff. And an inspection, but that’s a piece of cake. I think I have Mark’s number here somewhere.” The frantic rustle of paperwork in the background told him she was already searching. “Oh, here it is! The state inspector’s name is Mark Campbell.” She recited a number, and he scrambled for a pen and paper to write it down. “He can get you started, answer any questions you might have. Tell Mark I gave you his number. He’s one of ours, a corral kid. He spent one summer here.”

Nate choked on his coffee, inciting a bout of laughter from Sandy.

“You don’t think you’re the only one to spend a summer or two here, do you,” she asked in her sassy, no nonsense way. After a momentary consideration, she continued. “Do you have any work for these boys to do? Idle hands...”

Her words wavered, and he could hear her husband’s deep voice in the background.

“Okay, honey, I’ll tell him. Doyle says he can be there by next week. Is that soon enough? Hold on.” She giggled, sharing a few words with her husband.

Nate savored the sound.

“Doyle’s chomping at the bit to talk to you.”

The image her words provoked was humorous, and a smile pursed the corners of his mouth. The man was never in a hurry for much of anything. Doyle moved as slow as a tortoise. Instead of the smart comment Nate considered saying, he held his tongue.

“Hey, Nate. It’s good to hear from you, son.” His friend’s deep baritone spouted from the receiver, steady and sure, a slight bit calmer than his wife.

“Are you thinking of your own ranch? Well, to tell you the truth, we are in over our heads. As a matter of fact, we are over the legal capacity by ten boys, but you know how Sandy is. She won’t even turn away a stray cat. We got a couple of them, too. Do you need any cats?” A low rumble crossed through the phone line as he chuckled. “Yeah, Sandy says about ten boys, all of them ready for a new adventure. Is that too many?”

Ten.

A few doubts surfaced. Was this something he could handle? No, but if all else failed, he could always hire a few counselors to help out.

Taylor, a fourteen year old trouble maker, popped into his head. He’d had his hands full with the little rebel last year. Yet, he’d stood his ground as the boy pushed all boundaries. They had been able to form a formidable relationship. Through those trials and tribulations he had made a friend for life, making a difference in the kid’s life, and according to Doyle, Taylor was starting to show real promise.

After a brief hesitation, he swallowed his fears. “Yeah, ten boys would be perfect. And tell Sandy I’ve got plenty of work for them to do. For starters, I’ve got an old barn needing repair and about 200 acres of fence line. I hired a few guys from town to help around the ranch, but I’ve been focusing more on the sleeping quarters and my old man’s house. Both should be finished by tomorrow.” He drew in a shaky breath.

“It’s a little overwhelming, huh, son? Leave all the worrying to Sandy. She’s good at it. You and me, we build things. Let’s see, I can be there by Friday. Three days. How’s that sound?” Doyle questioned. After a long pause, he continued, “I wouldn’t be steppin’ on your toes if I wanted to hang around for a week or two, would I?”

Nate released his breath, unaware he’d been holding it. “I’d appreciate it. Yeah, I would like it if you stuck around for a bit. Did I mention there is a creek full of fat trout running through my land? I caught one yesterday, must have been at least a foot long—”

“Like I said, I’ll see you in two days.”

Nate smiled and stared at the receiver in his hand long after his friend hung up. The phone call had been bittersweet. It was good to talk to them again, but he hadn’t realized just how much he missed their company until this very moment. He would see Doyle in a few days. And Sandy, well, she was just a phone call away. The thought was reassuring.

The sound of hammers caught his attention as his friend’s words echoed in his head.
We build things.
He was right. Time to start building.

He dialed Mark Campbell’s number, and scheduled an appointment at his office later in the day.

Chapter 8

Wednesday morning, Nate pushed himself back from the kitchen table and poured the rest of his coffee down the drain. Staring out the kitchen window, he was drawn to a rusty, brown pick-up coming up his drive.

Walking outside, heat and humidity slammed into him like a brick wall, although neither sucked the oxygen out of the air like the confrontation headed his way.

Thomas Calhoun.

The older man got out of his truck, and Nate noted how long the act seemed to take. As Thomas approached, he couldn’t help but reflect on how much older and slower the man seemed. The years had taken a toll on him, aging Jessie’s father more than his sixty years.

They sized one another up. He had always admired the man, even looked up to him as a role model. Today, however, he was taken aback, noticing several differences about Jessie’s dad. For starters, he balanced the majority of his weight on his right side, favoring his left.

“What...are you doing here...Nate?” Thomas asked, his voice low as he stepped forward.

“What am I doing here?” he returned, crossing his arms over his chest, an immediate reaction of his defiant past. “I live here.” The sharp retort sliced through the air like hardened steel. His jaw tightened, the heat of shame coloring his face. This was not the way he wanted to handle the situation. Softening his reproach, he asked, “What’s on your mind, Thomas?”

His mentor appeared tired, as if time had not only sapped some of his vigor, but some of his will. The shell of a man standing before him was not who Nate remembered, a distinct opposite of the idol he had placed high upon a pedestal many years ago.

“Did you come to catch up on old times?” He attempted to change direction of the conversation.

There was an untrusting coldness in the older man’s eyes. “I came...to see what...”

Thomas shifted his weight again, leaning heavily on his right leg and Nate’s attention centered on the man’s left arm hanging listless at his side.

“...what your...intentions are...Nate,” Thomas continued, his words meticulous and drawn out.

Before responding, he hesitated, sucking in a deep breath. It wasn’t even eight o’clock in the morning and the muggy air smothered him. Underneath Calhoun’s thorough examination, the humidity was even more unbearable, making his shirt cling to his body like a second skin.

“Well, if you must know, I’m working on the house, fixing the barn, that sort of thing. I plan on setting up roots.”
And getting your daughter back.

He studied the man’s face, keeping a controlled expression as the truth confronted him. It all made perfect sense now. Jessie’s father would have never given up control of his ranch...not unless he was forced to.

“Your idea...of setting up...roots...” Thomas wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of his right hand, offsetting his balance. “...not the same...as mine.”

Nate reached out to help center him, but the man swatted his hand away. He couldn’t help the path of his thoughts, wondering if Thomas had suffered a heart attack or stroke, but didn’t ask. Such a question would only stab at a man’s pride. Instead, he nodded his head in agreement.

He perceived what Thomas was implying—he’d hurt Jessie. A foolish decision he could never forgive himself for.

“You’re right. I never was one for staying put, was I? And we both know who paid for that don’t we?” He owned up to his past, wanting to make sure Thomas got the full picture. He needed both Jessie and her father to know he had changed, determined to clear his name and make up for stupid mistakes.

“Boys will be here tomorrow afternoon. Ten of them, all confused, and troubled. Same as I was.” Pausing, he pondered on his next words. “They need a safe place. I figured Walker land was as good as any.”

Nate searched the weathered man’s face for a response. Thomas remained impassive with no reaction other than a slight nod. His expression remained stoic and unreadable.

He tilted his chin, perturbed by the nagging need to explain his past behavior. “That’s where I’ve been for the last couple of years. I was lead counselor on a ranch like what I want this one to become. As a kid, the whole world seemed against me. I had this uneasiness inside me.” He kicked at a rock hidden partially in the dirt. The confession caused his stomach to roll in rocky waves.

“Remember how pissed off I was? Always itching for a fight, for a reason to lash out at someone. So I’d feel better. And it worked, for a while.”

He shot a glance at Thomas, curious to see the man’s reaction. There wasn’t one.

“Fighting worked. Until that night with my dad,” he continued, clenching his hands into fists, and releasing them. He returned his attention back to kicking at the rock, now with a little more intensity. “When I left here, I roamed from town to town never finding what I needed. Do you know what I mean? I was searching for a place where I belonged, where I wasn’t so damn angry. I found it, but it wasn’t a place. It was in here,” he admitted, pointing at his chest. “Took a long time to figure it all out. Hell, I still got some figuring to do. I just want you to know, I’m not the same screwed up kid anymore.”

Thomas remained silent, though nodded his head in indication he’d heard the confession. Nate hadn’t quite regained his trust, seeing traces of suspicion still evident in the man’s stare, but at least he said what needed to be said.

“So...you saying...you like kids?” Thomas asked, his voice a cool, distant tone.

Progress? Nate hid a smile, answering the question in the same way. “Yeah, I guess I do. I like these kids, anyway. Most of them remind me of my old ways, of how I once was. Helping them out...well, it makes me feel good, too, you know? It gives them some kind of stability. There was a man who tried as much for me in my troubled teens. Of course, I didn’t appreciate it then. I do now.” He spared another glance at Thomas, noting his admission had garnished a thoughtful expression.

“I never thanked you for that.” Nate reached down and grabbed his tool belt off of the nearby fence post, then glanced up, locking gazes with Jessie’s father. The man shared the same guarded stare as his daughter. Thomas didn’t trust him, and he couldn’t blame him.

“And...Jessie?”

Nate fastened the belt around his waist. “As far as Jess goes, I don’t plan on hurting her again,” he declared in a soft whisper, just loud enough his words were heard. He knew Thomas expected more of an explanation, but he didn’t offer.

“Jessie isn’t...the only one...I’m worried about,” her father returned, obviously not quite swayed by his candid confession.

Nate watched in silence as the older man walked to his old Ford and drove down his drive. For several minutes, the fading taillights of the truck garnished his attention. He had plenty of work to keep him busy until the boys showed up, but it could also wait. His thoughts returned to the meaning of Thomas’ haunting words. The man was right, he had let a lot of people down.