Debra Clopton - Her Rodeo Cowboy

Montana gave Lacy a scowl. “He better not send him anytime soon, or it won’t matter. I’m not interested in any man but this little man right here.” She cuddled Tate, burying her face in his chubby neck.

“You, my dear cuz, have good taste. By the way, I saw Luke Holden was here earlier. Did you meet him?”

The cowboy’s image whipped into her mind like a red flag. “Yes,” she said warily.

“Well, what did you think of him? I happen to think he’s a real cutie pie and a real fine man, too.”

Surely she wasn’t thinking … “Lacy, I told you I’m not interested. I’m here to win a rodeo, not a man.”

Lacy stuffed a fist to her hip, her eyes dancing. “Yep, yep, yep,” she sang. “You thought he was cute. I knew it!”

Montana gasped. “I didn’t say that.”

“Didn’t have to. Your refusal to answer my question said it all.”

“Okay, he isn’t hard on the eyes. But don’t go getting any ideas.” The fact that Lacy might be having ideas about her and Luke had Montana’s nerves rattling a bit.

“Oh, I’m not promising anything. I was just checking your pulse.” Lacy smiled mischieviously.

Montana lifted Tate into the air and looked up at his cherub face. “Tell your momma that my pulse is just fine, and you’re the only man I’m gonna be interested in for a good long while.” She shot Lacy a teasing but serious glare. “And I mean that. Got it, cuz?”

“You seen her?”

Luke was sitting at the counter in Sam’s diner, waiting on his breakfast. It was 6:00 a.m. and the crowd hadn’t bombarded the tiny diner yet—but they’d be in at any moment. Applegate Thornton and his buddy Stanley Orr were already glued to the chairs at the window table. It was their usual morning spot to spit sunflower seeds at their spittoon, play checkers and get in on the happenings and business of everyone in town. Today they were starting with him.

Applegate spit two sunflower seed shells into the old brass spittoon then repeated his question again loudly, as if Luke was the one who was hard of hearing instead of he and Stanley.

“Did you see her yet? Montana Brown. Lacy’s cousin.”

Oh, he’d seen her all right. And he’d been thinking about her since. “Yes, sir, I saw her yesterday. She was practicing the barrels out in the arena when I was there going over the stock list. Why?”

App shrugged nonchalantly, looking about as convincing as a little kid trying to sneak a cookie. “I was jest wonderin’. She’s a cute little thang. And a real good rider. We saw her the other day, too. She knows her way around a horse.”

“That’s fer shor.” Stanley paused, coughing as he studied the checkerboard. Not as chipper as usual, he scratched his balding head. The two men were in their seventies and about as hard of hearing as a tree stump. Though it was questionable whether they just had selective hearing, because they kept tabs on everyone’s business.

“Yup,” he continued. “She rode that horse of hers out into that arena like greased lighting. I ain’t never seen a gal ride—” He suddenly paused and jumped his red checker over App’s. “Gotcha, ya old coot.”

App’s frown deepened, making his thin face droop into a ripple of expanding wrinkles. “I was wonderin’ when you was gonna make that move. I wasn’t payin’ attention when I made that thar mistake.”

“Ha, you’re jest gettin’ whupped. As usual.”

App snorted, “I don’t always lose, and you know it.” Ignoring his turn to move, he kept his attention on Luke. “I heard Lacy was throwing a barbecue this weekend in honor of her cousin. You goin’?”

Lacy had called him last night and invited him and any of his brothers who might happen to be in town. She’d sounded excited about the party. He had to admit that he was looking forward to it himself. “Yeah, I’m going. It’ll be nice to help her get to know all of us.”

“You oughtta ask her out,” App continued. “You know, make her feel welcomed and all.”

“That’d shor be nice of ya.” Stanley coughed again, glaring at App. “Times a wastin’, I’m gonna be dead before you start playin’ this here game.”

Taking that as his clue to close the conversation, Luke spun his stool back toward the counter. Sam came out of the back in that moment. His short bowlegs were moving as he hustled through the swinging café doors from the kitchen. He slapped Luke’s plate in front of him. “Eat up, Luke. Yor gonna need yor strength.”

“Why’s that?” he asked, hoping App and Stanley had decided to play checkers instead of delve further into his love life. He’d already been thinking about asking Montana out, but he didn’t need anybody’s help where that was concerned.

Sam gave him a weathered grin. “‘Cause my Adela and the gals are countin’ on them animals of yours to be in tip-top shape. They want them bull riders comin’ in droves fer all the rodeos.” It went unsaid that bull riders and bull riding drew women. That was what “the gals” wanted. The gals being the matchmakers of Mule Hollow, Esther Mae Wilcox, Norma Sue Jenkins and Sam’s wife, Adela Ledbetter Green.

There was no need for them to worry. “I’ve got Thunderclap entered, and his reputation attracts riders. They always do wherever he happens to be.”

“That’s good. Norma Sue and Esther Mae are about ta drive me pure crazy with their planning and carrying on. Adela’s even having trouble keepin’ them corralled. Why, they’re strategizin’ about every kin folk they can think of who might be comin’ fer the rodeos. I’m telling y’all, that little gal Montana Brown’s got a number on her back—and it ain’t her barrel racin’ number, either. So, jest a word of warnin’, in case you ain’t figured that out already. If you ask that one out, you might have a big ole bull’s-eye show up on yor back, too.”

The back of Luke’s neck began to itch. “They’ve tried that a time or two with me, and realized I’m not interested in anything long-term… . You know I’m honest with everyone I go out with about that.”

Not saying anything, Sam poured him another cup of coffee and started to go tend to his other customers. Mornings were busy, and he usually worked them alone, till his help came in around eight. But as busy as he was, he held his position, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Luke.

“It’s true. Ever’body knows you’re a straight shooter on that topic. But—” he grimaced “—from what I hear, that ain’t makin’ at least one person too all-fired happy.”

Luke had a bad feeling he knew where Sam was heading. “What do you mean?”

Sam leaned in close. “I heard tell that thar artist you went out with a time or two ain’t happy at all.”

Erica. He’d been honest with her from the beginning, and had only gone out with her twice. On their second date, she’d started talking about looking for Mr. Right. He shook his head. “Sam, I broke it off with her the instant I realized she was looking for Mr. Right. I don’t do forever. I’d told her I wasn’t looking to be anybody’s Mr. Right. She got all upset anyway, and I didn’t know what to do.” The woman had actually thrown dishes at him for “dropping her,” as she put it. He’d tried to keep his mouth shut, but that hadn’t stopped her from giving him the stink eye whenever she saw him. To keep peace, he’d been trying to steer clear of her, and hoped that soon her anger would blow over.

One thing was certain, they weren’t compatible, and he was more than glad of it. He didn’t like all the drama that came with a woman like that. He’d just missed the signs.

“If you were honest, then you ain’t got nothin’ ta hold yor head down about. Some women are jest plain high-strung. Now, women like my Adela, well, that’s a prize. You jest keep bein’ honest. It’d be a shame fer you ta miss out on love. The posse might jest have ta fix that fer you.”