Cowboys 03 - My Cowboy Homecoming (22 page)

Jimmy was sitting in a rocker on the bunkhouse porch, drinking from a coffee cup that said Protected by Smith & Wilson. He looked tired and grimy. He was probably just coming in for the night.

“Heard about your ma. She okay?”

“She will be.” I leaned against the railing. “It’s going to take time.”

“Wish her well for me.”

“Thanks. I need to talk to Lucho, is he inside?”

“He’s in the barn with the horses.” I turned to go, but he called out. “Tell him to get his ass back inside and his foot up. Boss catches him walking around there’s going to be hell to pay.”

“I will.”

As I made my way to the barn, Pumpkinhead followed me along the railing of the alpaca pen. I gave her head a scratch. Light fell from the barn’s open door, and I when I walked in I saw Lucho giving Galleta a little brush down.

“Hey,” I told him what Jimmy said. “Galleta has Fausto to do this. She’s fine.”

“This is for me more than her. I like grooming the horses.”

“I understand.” I understood because I liked it too. It had a calming effect on me like almost nothing else did.

“I’ll be done in a second.”

Gently, I took the brush from his hand. “Go sit down.”

He shot me a look but sat in his wheelchair, wincing as he lifted his foot up. I finished up brushing his horse down in the deeply peaceful silence of the barn.

“You ready to talk yet?” He finally spoke.

“Don’t know if I’ll ever be ready.”

“That’s ominous.”

“Ma and I have to leave here.”

“You what?”

“We have to move to Atlanta or somewhere my ma feels safe.” I let the brush fall back into the grooming bucket and moved Galleta back into her stall. “I’ve gotta take her away from New Mexico. Away from my dad and all the bad memories. I need to take her somewhere she’ll get help.”

“And?” He folded his hands in his lap.

“And what?” I closed Galleta in and leaned against the low door. “And I don’t want to leave.
And
I’d rather stay here at the J-Bar with you and the cowboys.
And
I’d rather my ma didn’t answer the phone every time my dad calls
and
I wish she didn’t think she has to do everything he says
and
I wish everything was different.”

“You wish you’d never left the army?” Lucho asked woodenly. “You wish you’d never met me?”

“No.” I turned. “I could never wish I’d never met you. I could never—”

“Then fight for me.” He lurched toward me, gripping my shoulders, holding himself up and trying to shove me at the same time. “You think my mother was happy when she found out I was seeing you?”

“No,” I caught him before he fell and made him sit back down. This time I lifted his leg into the rest and held it there, massaging his calf. “I know she was furious.”

“You're goddamn right she’s furious. My
abuelita
was in tears. I told them they had to trust me to do the right thing. Are you saying I went through all that for nothing? Are you saying you’re just going to walk away?”

“Not because I want to.” I found a stool and sat it opposite his chair, determined to talk this out—whatever the consequences. “I don’t know what to do. Ma was always a little fragile, like I’ve said. Only now she seems to be so much worse. Happy as a girl one minute, terrified the next. Talking a blue streak and then running to her room, crying. She was so angry when the truck broke down. Something’s not right. Now this . . . Those pills weren’t a cry for help, Lucho. She seriously wanted to die.”

He nodded slowly. “And you think taking her away will make her better?”

“My dad told her his enemies are responsible for Heath’s death, and she believes him. She’s convinced they’ll come after me. She nearly
shot
me. I need to take her somewhere safe and convince her he can’t find us, at least until she’s back on her feet.”

Lucho braced his elbows against his knees. “What’s to stop her from reaching out to him?”

“She wouldn’t.” I said, shocked. “Why would she?”

“He’s calling the shots from prison, and she’s been doing what he says to do, right?”

“He’s threatening her. She believes he’ll send people after her.”

“Why didn’t she call the police?” he asked. “For that matter, why didn’t you call the police?”

“I—” I flinched. “I didn’t . . .”

“See, this is what I don’t get. Your lawyer brings the shit to your house. Your mother delivers it. You come home and find out what they’re up to. You’re all sitting in shit up to your eyeballs. Don’t you want out?”

“I don’t know if you noticed—” I poked his chest “—but my Ma just tried to take a really permanent way out.”

“But why didn’t any of you just tell someone what’s happening?”

I opened my mouth. Closed it. Pulled back, thinking hard.

“Wouldn’t it have made sense to ask for help? To go to the cops? The feds? A lawyer who isn’t corrupt? Anyone?”

“They were doing this for God knows how long before I came home. The authorities aren’t going to turn a blind eye to that. Ma could go to jail.”

“So. You’re afraid you’ll get them in trouble?” He nodded. “I’ve got news for you. They
are
in trouble. They were in trouble long before you came back. They brought the trouble on themselves.”

“And I’m supposed to be the one to put a stop to it? Why me?”

“Why
not
you?”

“If I go to the police, my Ma will end up in prison.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Of course I do. What do you imagine will happen? They’ll say, thanks for the tip, now go home while we handle it? Slade will end up disbarred, at least, and even if they take pity on my mother, Dad will take it out on her some other way. She’s already suicidal. Moving is the only sensible answer.”

“It’s not the only answer.” Lucho pursed his lips. “It’s the only answer you like.”

“You want me to turn my mother in?” I asked. “You want that. From me.”

“Why you gotta look at it like that?” he asked. “I want you to tell the truth. Your dad’s controlling every little thing from prison. He—”

“It’s impossible.” I stood. “What you’re asking me to do will result in my mother’s arrest.”

“You’ve got a good lawyer.”

“Who will go to jail right along with her.”

“So get them both a new lawyer. Push
back.
”

“I can’t.”

“You can.” Lucho rose and cupped my face between his hands. “I know you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared.” I denied it, even though my mouth was dry with dread. “I know what scared feels like. I’ve faced far more frightening things than jail.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’ve faced down the Taliban and gravity and bullets and land mines.” He shook his head. “But you’re still running
away
from your dad.”

I staggered back. “No.”

“I swear to God, Tripp. If I thought taking your ma away was the right thing to do, I’d help you pack. I’d go too, because God knows, I want to be with you.” His eyes glittered. “More than anything in the world. I want to be with you so much . . .”

“Luis.”
I breathed.

“But you have to listen to me. You didn’t get a good start in life. Your dad—” He gave my upper arms a hard squeeze. “Your dad is crazy and your mother, God bless her, didn’t show you how to stand up to bullies.”

“Luis. I cannot—”

“Remember when we talked about listening? Now is when you do that. Some old dude said ‘all that is necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.’ That’s what you need to think about now. Ask yourself which side you’re on? Ask if your dad will continue to cause harm to innocent people? Because if so, and you can stop it, I’m not sure you have the right to run.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I know the kind of man I want to love.” He let go and I sagged against the wall. “I hope you’re that guy, because I’m already more than halfway there. But you’re throwing all that away if you and your ma leave now.”

My chest tightened. “So I have to stand up to my dad or we’re through?”

“Don’t. You’re the one running away. You’re the one who has a choice. Don’t make this about me.”

“What’s it about, Lu? If it’s not about us.”

“It’s about right and wrong. You can’t be the guy I’m falling for and not know that.”

I stood there, aching. Tired all the way to my bones. I felt naked, and unworthy, and at the same time, I needed to hear the words. I reached out and grabbed handfuls of his shirt. “Say that again.”

“You idiot.” He wrapped his arms around me, and I clung to him. He was the only thing in the world that felt solid to me. My only reality. “Come to the bunkhouse.”

“What about Fausto?” The words came out muffled against his shoulder.

“He’s with my mother tonight. She’s none too pleased with me right now. They’re circling the wagons.”

“Christ. I didn’t even ask how that went.”

“Let’s not talk about the shit that’ll pull us apart.” I helped him back to his wheelchair and we left the horses tucked neatly into their stalls. “Right now, just for tonight, let’s—”

“Yeah.” I whispered.
“Yeah. Let’s.”

***

Once we got inside the bunkhouse I wheeled him to the room he shared with his brother. He stood, and I let him lean on me, so turned on that the whisper of his fingers over the nape of my neck made my skin sizzle.

“Ah,
Lu
. I need you.”

“Shh.” He pushed me down on his dinky twin-size bed and climbed between my legs as I pulled his shirt from his jeans.

“Is this okay? Not hurting your foot?”

“It’s good. I’ll let you know.”

“I need”—I pulled the shirt over his head—“your skin.”

“Anything you want. Anything you need.” Lucho rocked against me, brushing our dicks together. His hips rolled like a dancer’s, rhythmic and smooth. “Ask, and it’s yours.”

“What do you want?”

“You.” He grinned at me, his teeth so white in the darkness they almost seemed to glow. “Whatever you got. I want your mouth, your ass. I want your body and your mind and your soul.”

“Yeah?” I asked breathlessly.

“I want all of you. I want to shove inside you so deep. Make you melt around me like butter.”

“Okay,” I panted, arching in rhythm with him. “I want that so fucking badly.”

He pulled my shirt aside to trail hot kisses down my neck, and once we got my shirt over my head, he nipped me, sucking hard, pulling up a mark on my collar bone.

“Ow.” I cupped the back of his head to hold him there, yanking my belt buckle loose one-handed. He pulled away to shuck his boot and jeans and shorts, all at once. Mine hit the floor seconds later and when we came back together in a wet slap of skin and sex and relief, I groaned in deep, deep satisfaction.

“God.” He kissed me. Opened my lips and slid his tongue inside to explore my teeth and palate. He tasted sweet and spicy—complex, like the man he was—and then he pressed me down into the sagging mattress, all muscle and heat, wrapping his arms around me and showing me his true nature. How a gentle man, fierce in love and pride and yearning, takes a lover.

He made a tender quest of fingers, lube, and patience. The first burning pain of penetration kissed away, the stretch, the invasion that was both shattering and delightful shared along with quiet declarations. Grins, and kisses.

He was playful. Teasing. Coaxing. Then as lost in passion as I was, quiet and determined and relentless.

He drove me to higher highs, physically and emotionally than anyone I’d ever known. And when we’d run our race, when we drew alongside each other at the finish line, my blood roared like thunder in my ears. My cock, stiff as a drum, trapped between our damp bodies, leaked freely. With every surge of Lucho’s cock, every stroke of his fingers on my skin, every kiss, every bite, every lick, the muscles throughout my body tightened.

He dialed up the exquisite pressure, gripping my hips, driving into me like a machine until finally, I exploded, pulsing between us, gilding our bellies with my seed. He breathed my name as he came inside me, grunting his satisfaction, as if he’d shoved past all my barriers one last time to mark me forever.

After he withdrew he fell over me, sated. Sweaty and sticky and sweet. I kissed his lips, his nose, his eyelids. His chin, his silly soul patch, and he smiled at me and pulled me into his arms again.

“So. We got a thing, now?” he asked. “You and me?”

“Yeah, Lu. We got a thing. Only—” It hurt like hell. But I had to do it. I was still determined to make the sacrifice I’d come there to explain in the first place. “I can’t stay. Please understand. I can’t.”

He remained silent, condemning me with brown eyes, shadowed with pain and resignation.

I tried one last time. “It doesn’t mean I don’t wish things were different. It doesn’t mean this wasn’t . . .
isn’t
the best thing in my life. But I came home to protect my mother and that’s what I have to do.”

“You’re just fucked-up enough to believe that, aren’t you?” Lucho’s words seemed to come from a vast distance. Beyond a chasm I wouldn’t be allowed to cross again. “I’m sorry you feel that way.”

“You could come with us,” I said, even though I knew it was selfish. “It’s not like there’s no horses in—”

“Don’t you
even
.” He forestalled me. “The man I love doesn’t run from trouble. The man I love does the
right
thing.”

“How can you say that?” I asked, bewildered. “I’ve been a good man. Stayed on the right side of the law despite my dad. I fought for my country. I—”

“A good man does the right thing for the right reasons, Tripp. I know you’ll be thinking about this moment long and hard. You’re going to take my words with you, and I want you to hear them. You’ve done the right thing. But for the wrong reasons. Until you fix the thing you’re running from, until you face down your past and make things right . . . I don’t know. I can’t go with you. Not like this.”

Nearly broken by his words, I rolled from the bed and found my clothes by feel. “That’s mighty judgmental from a man who never had to make a choice like this.”

“Doesn’t matter. It isn’t you, is what I’m saying. If you do this, you’ll be running forever.”