The Cowboy Who Strolled Into Town (101 page)

Chapter 23

Harold heard her tell him.  “Harold I’m pregnant and so is Sally.”  Then he didn’t hear anything but her crying.

              “Bruce I have to go.  My wife needs me and I will not put anything in front of her, ever.  Finish the meeting, give my apologies, and just make it better.  Hell I’m the owner, if I can’t leave early, who can.”  He stated and ran out the door.

Harold was panicked.  He didn’t know how she was taking the news of Sally.  Harold had honestly forgotten all about the one afternoon of sex.  He didn’t know she was pregnant, hadn’t thought of any precautions at the time or after it.

But here he was learning about it from his wife.  Who was also pregnant?  Harold was so happy, but yet so worried at the same time.  He hated the conflicting emotions he was feeling. 

Worst of all he knew that Sandra was going through too many things in her mind too.  She needed him right now and he had to get there.

              “Get me home last minute.”  He said to his driver.

              “Yes sir.” 

Harold hated the feelings of being lost that came over him on the way home.  “Oh my God, please don’t let her leave me?”   He prayed out. The trip seemed to be endless.

As soon as they were in the driveway he was out the door, running inside.  He didn’t stop until he was beside her.

              “I’m here baby.  I’m sorry it took so long.”  Harold looked down at her.  She was a mess.  Her eyes were swollen from crying. 

              “It was before you.  Honestly, I don’t want anyone but you.  I will never even look the way of another female.  I love you and only you.  Please don’t leave me.”  Harold pleaded with her.

She looked up into his eyes.  “I know Harold.  I really do.  I’ve already thought it out.  Really I’m crying so much because I realized just how much you loved me.  I can’t believe it sometimes it is just so overwhelming.”  Sandra said to him tears dripping down her face.

              “Oh baby.  I would do anything in this world for you.  Don’t ever doubt that.  I’m so happy I met you and you told me how it was!”  Harold laughed.

              “Me too honey.  So what are we going to name our babies?”  Sandra asked.

              “Babies?”  Harold asked confused.

              “Yes we will raise your and Sally’s baby as our own too!  Why not, it’s not fair for that baby to not have you as a father.  If we have to we’ll just pay her off.”  Sandra stated.

Harold looked at her and liked her plan.  “Whatever you want to do baby!” THE END.

VIGILANTE COWBOY

Western Cowboy Romance

Riley Moreno

CHAPTER I

Lane Hayes slowed his horse down to a trot when he reached the top of the hill and looked down. His ranch stretched out before him – serene, beautiful. The late afternoon Alabama sun was warm on his shoulders and he adjusted his Stetson and squinted up at the sky. He could see his horses in the paddock below the hill; the cows he personally bred, grazing in the meadow. He could even see the Ranch House porch. A train whistled in the distance and Lane watched it come round the bend over to his far right. It seemed to remind him that there was something important he needed to do. He turned his horse about abruptly. ‘Alright Beaumont, time to go home!’ he said, and the horse trotted away, gathering pace as it cantered down the hill. 

Back at the Ranch House Lane prepared for the night, slipping his pistols into his holster and filling his pockets with more ammo. As the shadows gathered about the Ranch House, Lane felt that same familiar excitement in the pit of his belly. He saddled Beaumont, running his strong hands through his mane. He had groomed Beaumont earlier that day, until his thick black coat shone and shimmered. Beaumont was the perfect horse for his business that night, merging with the shadows; even the sound of his hooves muted by the meadowland that they rode through.

Lane positioned himself near a grove of trees, and pulled his bandana up over his face, leaving only his eyes exposed. He went over his plan once more, though he had done this often enough for his movements to almost seem rehearsed. He looked up at the sky, overrun with dark clouds, the barest hint of moonlight doing nothing to dispel the gloom, and shielding him and Beaumont from any eyes that may be scouring the landscape to spot him.

When he heard the train whistle in the distance, Lane stiffened. Beaumont too seemed practiced in the art of keeping absolutely still. Lane had his hand on his holster, ready to draw his weapons at the sound of a shot. He could see shadowy figures emerge as the train rounded the bend and sped towards them. It would slow down as it neared that section of the countryside because the terrain demanded that it did, and that would be the moment Lane was waiting for. The carriages swung to and fro as the train approached, the chugging sluggish, leisurely. Lane nudged Beaumont forward by pressing his boot gently against his belly and the horse obediently started off towards the train. Pistol shots rang out, as the train slowed down and Lane urged Beaumont to a canter, and then to a full gallop. The shadowy figures were now perceived as mounted men, masked and armed. Lane drew his pistols and fired into the air. There were five men, and on every previous occasion when Lane had fired into the air they had turned around and he had distracted them from what they were about to do. He had sometimes engaged them in an exchange of fire, deliberately not injuring them, but diverting their attention long enough to allow the train to get away. This time however, the five men seemed to know his routine, perhaps having encountered him on some previous occasion, because they paid no heed to him when he fired his pistols into the air. Instead they jumped from their horses, directly onto the train as it swung slowly past. Lane heard screams as they proceeded to hold up the passengers, and he flew off Beaumont and climbed onto the train in pursuit of the bandits.

Chivonn Byrd was travelling to Baldwin County with a dream. She wanted to be a singer and she had heard there were Bars there where she could waitress and maybe one day, she might get the opportunity to entertain an audience. Chivonn looked down at her coffee colored hands, aware of how her color limited her chances of success, but she was optimistic. She was deep in thought when she heard the shots ring out and the screams of women and shouts of other scared passengers.

There were armed bandits on the train, someone was shouting into Chivonn’s ears and she lamented the fate that had allowed such an occurrence to mar her chances of reaching Baldwin County alive.

‘Give us your money and your jewelry!’ Chivonn heard a man bark out, and a gun was thrust in her face. She cowered against the back of her seat, her lower lip trembling with fear, and held out her handbag.

‘I don’t have much,’ She whispered, beginning to slip the earrings off her earlobes, tears slipping down her cheeks because they were the only item of jewelry she owned and they had been given to her by her late grandmother. 

The bandit was about to grab the earrings, when Lane rushed in, and slammed his pistol against the rogue’s head.

‘Get off the train, or you will never live to see another day,’ Lane said, pressing his pistol harder against the bandit’s throbbing temple. ‘Keep your earrings,’ Lane instructed Chivonn, ‘And take your handbag back.’

‘My gang mates will come in and kill you,’ the bandit growled.

‘They were thrown off the train several minutes ago. It’s just you and me now,’ Lane said softly. Chivonn was sobbing. So was the woman in the seat beside her.  A scuffle ensued during which Lane succeeded in pushing the bandit off the train, but not before a shot fired from the masked man’s pistol grazed his shoulder. Blood spurted from the wound and soaked his brown shirt. Chivonn made an attempt to go to Lane’s aid, but he shook his head at her. ‘Don’t move,’ he instructed her. He threw a glance at the blood on his shoulder. ‘A mere scratch,’ he said, and jumped off the moving train.

Beaumont had run along the train waiting for Lane, and was ready when he leapt onto his back. Horse and rider whipped about and galloped back to Lane’s ranch.

CHAPTER II

Lane strode into The Palomino, thumbs hooked in the pocket of his jeans. He wore his red and white checked shirt and Stetson with the air of a man who is completely unaware that the women present were unable to take their eyes off him. His jeans defined every contour of his lower body, clinging as they did to his thighs and perfectly shaped, rock hard rear end. He mounted the bar stool with the agility of one of his prize stud horses, and ordered a beer.

‘Lane Hayes! Where’ve you been hiding?’ a man remarked, taking the stool next to his and thumping him on the shoulder. Lane tried not to wince. It had been a couple of weeks since the bandit’s bullet had grazed his shoulder, and though the wound was healing well, it was still painful at times.

‘I’m fine, Jake,’ Lane answered, signaling to the bartender for another beer. The two men sipped their beers thoughtfully, and Lane tried to think of something to say. He hadn’t seen Jake in a while, though the two men had once been good friends.

‘Nasty business – these holdups, don’t you think?’ Jake remarked.

Lane shrugged, ‘I guess.’

Jake threw him a surprised look, his eyebrows raised. ‘I guess? That’s all you have to say? I guess? Come on, Lane! Time was when you were ready to kill those goddamn bandits.’

Lane shrugged again. ‘The past is past, Jake. I’ve managed to get over my anger at those lawbreakers. Besides, they’ll be stopped soon enough.’

‘Rumor has it that the county sheriff is building himself a fine nest with money that the bandits pay him to keep his mouth shut and his pistol in his holster.’

Lane bristled, but quickly rallied and resumed his air of indifference. ‘Oh really?’

‘What is wrong with you Lane? Aren’t you in the least bit concerned about this whole mess? One would imagine that you of all people, after what happened to…’

Lane swung his barstool around to face Jake and his grey eyes were almost black with suppressed fury.

‘I told you I don’t care anymore, Jake, so will you let it go? I don’t wish to talk about the bandits who killed my sister in that holdup that people here can’t stop talking about. I’m sick of them talking and talking about it. It’s over, Jake. Mary’s gone because nobody on that train could do a thing to save her.’ Lane swung around to face the bar counter again, and signaled for another beer.

‘I’m sorry,’ Jake said, and clapped his hand on Lane’s shoulder. Once again Lane tried not to wince. ‘If it’s any comfort to you,’ Jake continued, ‘there’s a vigilante cowboy keeping those bandits from attacking passengers on the trains. Folks say he got on the train a couple weeks ago and saved a black girl from being robbed.’ Lane said nothing, but took bigger swigs of his beer. ‘You know what else folks are saying?’ Jake said, ‘They’re saying the Sheriff’s gonna get this vigilante cowboy and put him away for good because he’s not letting the bandits do their job and the bandits, as a result, are not giving the Sheriff any money for turning a blind eye to their goings on.’

‘I see,’ Lane responded, his voice even, and his breathing calm, though his heart hammered in his chest.

‘What is this? New talent?’ Jake suddenly exclaimed, in between gulps from his mug. Lane followed Jake’s eyes and momentarily froze. Taking the tiny stage in the corner was the girl he had encountered on the train that night, nearly two weeks ago.

‘I hope she knows that we only like Country here,’ Jake said, ‘and not that jazz, soul stuff.’

‘Hmmm,’ Lane responded and rose to leave, but the girl started singing and he found himself rooted to the spot.

‘Whoa!’ Jake exclaimed, ‘Check out the pipes on that piece of ebony!’

‘Must you talk about a colored woman like that?’ Lane asked, annoyed, but Jake’s attention was on the singer.

‘She can sing Country like a cowgirl!’ Jake remarked, incredulous.

Lane said nothing, completely taken with Chivonn’s voice, and the lyrics of the song she was singing. He was not only mesmerized by her talent, however, but by her looks as well. Chivonn’s dusky skin was set off by the red dress she was wearing, and the cascades of ebony curls that fell about her shoulders. Lane found himself noticing her full lips and high cheekbones; the curve of her shoulders and the way her breasts rose and fell as she played her guitar.

Jake chuckled and gave Lane a conspiratorial nudge, but Lane didn’t respond.  ‘I can see your eyes rove over her body, I can.’

‘You’re seeing wrong!’ Lane growled and left his barstool. The bar had filled up and people had moved closer to the stage, drawn by Chivonn’s singing.  Lane found himself unable to make his way out of the door, so he stood there as Chivonn sang. When she finished her set, Lane began to move towards the exit, but again found he couldn’t leave. Chivonn had seated herself at a table and was there alone, nervously holding a glass in her hand. Before he could stop himself, Lane was at her table, looking down at her. ‘Hi,’ he said, and Chivonn looked up into his eyes, her heart missing a beat.

‘Hello,’ she responded, ‘Do I know you?’

Lane shook his head. ‘No. No, you don’t know me, but I just wanted to tell you that I really enjoyed your music. I’m Lane Hayes.’

‘Thank you,’ Chivonn answered uncertainly, darting nervous glances at a man seated at the bar, ‘I’m Chivonn Byrd.’

‘May I join you?’ Lane asked, and Chivonn looked nervously at the bar again.

‘I would say yes, but my manager says I must not at any cost socialize with patrons.’

‘And why is that?’ Lane asked, seating himself and casting a defiant look at the bar.

Chivonn shook her head. ‘I don’t know, really.’ She took a sip of her drink and then looked at Lane again. ‘There’s something about you…something familiar…like I know you from somewhere.’

Lane kept his voice as steady as he possibly could. ‘Maybe you’ve seen me here sometime?’

‘No,’ Chivonn said, ‘this is my first time here. I’m really a waitress at a Bar not too far from here. That’s where I met my manager and he said he would get me the odd gig at some of the bars in these parts.’

‘That’s good of him.’

Chivonn looked down at her drink. ‘I’m a little scared of him, to be honest.’

Lane’s hackles rose. ‘Does he hurt you? Take all your money? What does he do? Tell me!’

His intensity startled Chivonn. ‘Please, don’t think you need to do anything on my behalf. I was just making conversation. He’s a good manager, really. This is just my second gig. I’m fine, really I am.’ She rose, bid him a quick goodbye and returned to the stage.

Lane couldn’t tear himself away from the Bar that night, choosing to stand in the shadows, listening to Chivonn. He left the Bar only when she did, which was after every last customer had gone. He caught her eye as she left, and nodded. She looked quickly away as her manager took her arm and led her rather roughly outside. Lane followed at a distance, staying in the shadows.

‘I saw you talking to someone at your table. I told you, no fraternizing with patrons!’ Chivonn’s manager seemed unreasonably angry.

‘I’m sorry Bill, really I am,’ Chivonn said meekly, ‘I didn’t encourage him. He was just talking, that’s all.’

‘What about? What was he saying? Was he asking you to go out someplace with him?’

‘No Bill, he just said he liked my singing,’ Chivonn replied.

‘Oh, is that all he said? Do you think I’m a fool, woman? I saw him sit down and I saw the way you were looking at him. You think I don’t know what he wanted?’

Chivonn walked away from Bill and he pulled her roughly back. ‘You don’t walk away from your manager, woman! You don’t walk away from Bill, you hear?’ Bill had one hand on Chivonn’s arm and the other hand on her throat. She whimpered. ‘Please Bill, I’m sorry!’ She cried, but Bill’s hand tightened on her throat. Chivonn screamed and Lane sprang out of the shadows and onto Bill’s back. Bill swung around, and Lane’s angry fist caught him on the jaw. Bill staggered back but rallied and came at Lane, but he was no match for Lane’s sheer strength and skill. Lane only let him go when Chivonn begged him to.