The Come-Back Cowboy

To his credit, Deke was at least making a pretense of not listening to their discussion as he ambled out the wide doorway of the stable, idly spinning his catch rope.

She couldn’t help but watch as he swung a loop over his head, then to one side, then the other, as always his movements smooth, his technique flawless, his rhythm pure poetry. If truth be told, it had been his magic with a lariat that had won her heart, so much was it like the courtship between two lovers.

“Adeline.”

Tearing her gaze away, Addie met her father’s eyes, as keen as always.

“You’re still the go-to man on all the decisions about the Bar G,” he said. “That hasn’t changed and won’t. You know that, don’t you?”

Exasperatedly—lovingly—she studied him as he stood there, hand upon his saddle, its horn still wrapped in inner tube rubber from his working days…days when he’d been in charge and in command himself, no dispute. She had always seen herself as being cut from the same cloth as Jud Gentry: fearless in carving out new territory in ranching, perhaps not literally but in the spirit of their ancestors who’d set down roots in these parts over a hundred years ago, hoping to build a future.

But she was also a woman who’d had some of the choices for her future taken away from her.

“Daddy,” Addie said as gently as she could while still being completely honest, “I just don’t think the Bar G can handle another Larrabie rainmaker coming in with big promises and taking big risks, then leaving everyone else to pick up the pieces.”

“That won’t happen, Addie.”

This had come not from her father but from Deke, his attitude no longer casual as he stood in the dim light from the doorway. He was back to that intensity, again bent upon her.

“How do I know that, Deke?”

“It won’t,” he vowed. “You’ve got my word.”

“But you made such a promise to me once before,” Addie said, still without accusation, just speaking the truth she knew. “A promise to stay. Then you left.”

“I came back, though,” he responded with that maddening certainty. “Here I am. And this time, nothing’ll make me leave.”

He swung the loop around, the gesture automatic, she was sure, but did he have to do it at that moment? Did he know how mesmerizing, how seductive it was to her?

How it made her want to give in to more than just his will?

“Look at it this way—what could it hurt, Addie?” Deke said. “I’m not charging y’all for my time. And you’d have the final say in anything that gets done.”

What could it hurt? Oh, everything and everyone! Jace, for instance. The boy was searching right now. Searching hard. And who knew what he’d find if she let it happen? Or was she the only one who saw the danger on the horizon, coming at them all with the inevitability of a swarm of locusts?

Or was that still the danger within her? Because she’d seen the spark of challenge leap to Deke’s eyes earlier today with Connor. Had seen the spark of desire there, too.

The mere prospect of it had Addie running scared, for she’d once held nothing back from this man, so much so that when he left, it felt like going from swimming in an ocean of emotion to being stranded on a parched, barren desert, where you’d have sold your soul to taste just one drop of those feelings again.

She simply would not—could not—risk taking one step in that direction again.

Yet once again she was being asked to give her trust. And once again she hadn’t much choice but to give it, whether she wanted to or not.

For at that moment Jace rounded the corner of the doorway and stopped dead at the sight of three adults in the midst of one serious discussion.

“Hi there, hon,” Addie said quickly, holding out her hand to him, needing literally to take him under her wing to try to protect him, one last time.

But it was too late. Something had caught Jace’s attention. Fascinated, he came a few feet closer to where Deke stood on the threshold of the stable, on the threshold of their lives.

“Could you teach me how to rope, mister?” he asked, looking up at Deke.

And it was the way Jace said those words, soft and uncertain and more like the little boy he’d been a few months ago, that made Addie wonder if perhaps she was the one who was being shortsighted here.

Except, at the same time the sight of the two of them yearning toward each other almost without conscious thought drove that sense of danger in her even higher.

She was helpless to halt its progress, though, as Jace continued. “Y’see, mister, no one else around here can, but you could, ’cause…well, ’cause, you know, you’re like me.”

Deke’s fingers clenched reflexively on the lariat in his hand. For a wild moment, he wondered if somehow he’d already unintentionally broken his promise to Addie.

His gaze flew to hers in question, in apology, and he saw fear within her blue eyes, too, but not for the same reason.

“What Jace is saying,” she explained, her voice neutral, “is that Daddy and I, and the rest of the boys, have had the devil of a time tryin’ to teach him to rope.” She hesitated. “He’s a southpaw, you see.”

“Yeah.” The boy nodded, his hat still screwed down on his head, Festus-style. “That’s what I meant. I’m a southpaw.”

“Well, fancy that, Slick. So’m I,” Deke murmured, as first pride then regret filled him at discovering yet another trait his son shared with him. It drove home to him the loss of six vital years with Jace that he could never, ever get back. And brought back old insecurities that seemed to turn upon themselves like a snake swallowing its own tail.

No, he had no intention of betraying Addie’s trust in him. Even so, he couldn’t have made himself leave that stable right then if they’d made it a felony.

Lord, but it was a revelation to him, the look of his son. He saw so much of himself there that he’d never even realized belonged to him. The unbending tilt of his chin. The resolute set of his mouth. The vigilance in his eyes with which he gauged a changeable and uncertain world.

And since Jace had always had the constancy of home and other family, Deke knew there could only be one cause for that sort of measuring watchfulness in a boy.

The second hand governing his heartbeat sped up again.

“First say a proper hello to Mr. Larrabie, Jace,” Jud said. “He’s one of the best ranchin’ troubleshooters around. We’re lucky to have him come to work on the Bar G for a while.”

Deke sent his silent thanks to Jud for his support. It helped, especially when Jace asked, “Is that your name?”

“Yup,” he confirmed, trusting Addie would see no harm in revealing that much. “Deke Larrabie. You can call me Deke.”

“So will ya teach me how to rope, Deke?” Jace asked with that mixture of hope warring with doubt in his eyes—and overriding them both a hunger that Deke was oh so familiar with.

He cut a glance at Addie. She stood with her arms crossed, one of those long legs of hers extended to the side as her weight rested upon the other. She evinced no reaction, and he guessed that was as much of a go-ahead as he could expect from her. Or as much trust as he could expect.

He had to come through for her.

“Got a piggin’ string, Slick?” Deke asked.

The boy practically dove for the short, thin rope neatly coiled and hanging on one of the lowest pegs on the wall. He held it up for Deke’s inspection. “Granddad already taught me how to take care of it proper.”

“Well, that’s the first thing a cowboy’s got to learn—how to keep his gear in top condition. All right.” He took a stance side by side with Jace. “The key to ropin’ is startin’ with a well-built loop, like so.”

One at a time, he methodically measured an arm’s length of rope, then laid it across his right palm, making uniform coils.

Tongue tip tucked over his top lip, Jace copied him. Deke approved with a nod. “Now, once you got a good loop in hand, you can practice your throwin’ technique. You mind givin’ us a target, Jud?”

“Not a’tall.” The older man held his cane up like a sword.

Deke gave a few twirls above his head, then let the rope sail, laying out the loop in a perfect circle that slipped over the cane all the way to Jud’s elbow before touching his arm.

Jace gave his rope a few shaky spins and let it fly, missing Jud’s cane by a mile. His face fell to the cellar.

“Give it another go, Slick. ’Member, it’s all in the wrist.” Deke demonstrated, overdrawing his actions for Jace’s benefit.

The boy’s next try was better, and his next better still, as the loop of his rope caught the cane’s tip.

It was all Deke could do not to give Jace’s shoulder a squeeze of approval. He settled for a praiseful “Now you’re getting it, Slick. I knew it wouldn’t take you long to catch on.”

The boy’s smile at him from under the brim of his ten-gallons-too-big hat was heartrendingly naked in its yearning.

A lump the size of a melon crowded Deke’s throat. He was almost ashamed to enjoy his son’s regard, it had taken so little effort to win it.

“There’s already a Larrabie here, y’know,” Jace said out of the blue. “Out under the cottonwood. You know him?”

The watch spring in Deke’s chest gave a tightening twist. “That was my daddy,” he replied matter-of-factly.

He wondered what had compelled Jace to ask another of those surprising questions, but was fast learning that, much like his own interest, there was nothing aimless in Jace’s, including the boy’s next question, posed as he let sail with another try at heading Jud’s cane.

“So you’ve been here to the Bar G before?”

“Yup.” Deke dared not glance at Addie or Jud, rather than risk seeing their disapproval of this attempt, indirect as it was, to connect with his son. “Before you were born.”

He was halfway to regretting his stab at getting to know Jace, when the boy said, “I know.”

Perspiration broke out across Deke’s forehead. “You do?”

“Yeah.” Jace concentrated on hauling his rope in. “Mama tol’ me about how your daddy got caught in that big ol’ fire here on the Bar G. What’d you call it, Mama? A terrible, um…”

Deke’s gaze connected with Addie’s. She still wore a mask of neutrality, but her voice was soft as she answered, “A terrible tragedy…for everyone.”

Deke supposed he should thank her for that, considering what she’d been going through, both then and now.

“That it was, Slick,” he murmured as softly. “That it was.”

“Why d’you keep callin’ me Slick ’stead of my name?”

Deke tore his eyes from Addie. More than the others, this question seemed completely out of left field. He could only ask Jace in return, “Why, do you mind it?”

“But a slick’s a calf that ain’t got a brand yet. I got a brand.” Deke didn’t miss the challenge in the boy’s voice. “I belong here at the Bar G—”

“Jace,” Addie broke in. “You’ve taken up enough of Mr. Larrabie’s time for today—”

“I’ll never be a Tanglewood man, no matter if Mama marries Connor Brody.” Jace rushed on as if he’d never heard his mother, his attention focused on Deke. “That won’t make him my daddy, y’know!”

Deke set his catch rope carefully aside. “I guess not, if you don’t want it to,” he answered Jace, trying for Addie’s neutrality and obviously coming up short, for in the next instant he heard her warning “Deke, please.”

It was Jace, however, who had no qualms about taking a stand. “So did you know him?” he demanded.

“Know Connor?” Deke stalled.

The boy’s own catch rope got tossed to the wayside. “No—know him, from before.”

Deke shot Addie a glance of pure apology, which she returned, he saw, with one of regret—that she had let it go so far, that she had let him so far in. For at that moment, Jace, no longer either wary or hopeful but something in between, squared off in front of Deke. He had to admire the boy’s gumption, even if he was suddenly disconcerted to find as sharp a scrutiny on him as he’d ever bent upon critter or human.

That’s when something told Deke his son wasn’t talking about either Connor Brody or D.K. Larrabie.

Still, he had to ask, “Did I know who, Jace?”

“My daddy!” Jace said impatiently. “Did you know my daddy?”

Chapter Four

D eke kept his poker face, but just barely, as the impact of the question pulsed through him, tick-tick-tick.

“What…what do you know about your dad, Jace?” he asked slowly, his mind going ninety miles a minute as he tried to sort through what Jace really wanted to know, and what he himself could say. Because even though he’d made a promise to Addie, he saw now that there was no way on earth he could lie to his son.

“That he left afore I was born,” Jace answered. “That he din’t want a hand in raisin’ me.”

“Is that… Do you think that’s what he wanted?”

The question, which Deke had to allow was evasive as all get out, must have struck his son the same way, for Jace’s expression shut down. “I don’t care! It doesn’t matter, anyhow. I don’t want any daddy, ever. I sure don’t need one.”

Then, for some reason, the boy’s anger turned on Deke. “We don’t need you, either. Mama and me can run the Bar G fine without anybody’s help. So you can leave!”

Deke steeled himself against the rejection and the pain as his mind whirled madly. His promise bound him as surely as any straitjacket, but he had to come through here, had to give as good as he got.

He dropped to his haunches so he could face his son squarely, putting all the sincerity he had at his disposal into his gaze. “I don’t doubt that you can, Jace. The thing is—”

He paused, torn. Yes, he’d given Addie his word, and just like the other, long-ago promise he’d made to her, he would keep it.

He had to, or he’d be lost forever.

“The thing is, Jace,” he said slowly, “I’m not leavin’.”

The youngster froze for half a second, then lunged at him, grabbing handfuls of his shirt and pulling furiously. “But we don’t want you here!”

Deke was taken so off guard that he was drawn forward to his knees before he had a chance to catch his balance. When he did, though, it was by clasping his fingers around Jace’s upper arms, just as he had earlier.

The contact seemed to send the boy into more of a frenzy. He released his hold on Deke’s shirt, only to come at him with a flurry of fists.

“We don’t want you here!” he cried. His hat flew off his head backward. “Just go, now!”

“Jace, please—”

A stray punch struck Deke in the Adam’s apple. If he hadn’t had any appreciation for what Addie had had to deal with earlier, he sure enough had it now, big time.

The boy was frantic, seemed himself pulled by two opposing needs. Oh, yes, Deke knew the feeling all too well. And it would eat you alive if you let it.

“Wait a minute.” He tried again, fingers still clamped on Jace’s arms. “What’s this all about?”

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