No Ordinary Cowboy

Chapter Two

“You know he hates me, don’t you?” Maddie’s alert brown eyes shone with sympathy. Tony strangled the steering wheel as he drove along the highway on the outskirts of Stagecoach. He wasn’t looking forward to facing Cal Durango. The man blamed him for his son’s death and he had a right to.

Not a day passed that Tony didn’t regret leaving the bar after Michael had assured him he’d find a ride home if he drank too much. If Tony could travel back in time, he’d have stayed until Michael had finished celebrating, or he’d have coaxed him out of the bar before he’d had one too many beers.

He turned down the road leading to the Durango ranch house and passed beneath a stone archway with the iron letters DR at the top. A mile later, he parked in front of the sprawling hacienda with the covered front porch that ran the entire length of the home. The house sat in the shadows of a rocky incline that blocked the wind and provided shade from the afternoon sun. The yard had been landscaped with palm trees and colorful vegetation reminiscent of a California resort, not the Sonoran Desert.

Tony stepped down from his truck. “Get the hell off my ranch, Bravo.” Cal Durango sat on the front porch, smoking one of his expensive Cuban cigars.

“Be happy to hit the road as soon as I unload this cargo.” Tony snapped his fingers. “Come on, Maddie.”

The stubborn boxer wouldn’t budge.

Tony reached for her collar, but Maddie scrambled into the backseat.

“Damn dog’s a nuisance. Should have put her down long ago.” Durango acted tough as nails, but Tony knew the death of his son had cut him off at the knees and he was a broken man on the inside.

“Got a leash?” Tony asked.

“Here’s one.” Lucy stepped out the front door. Had she been eavesdropping? She skipped down the steps and clipped a tether to Maddie’s collar. “Naughty girl.” Lucy tugged the dog from the truck. “She must have come back after I left.”

“Left where?” Lucy’s father stood on the top step and glanced suspiciously between Tony and his daughter.

“Maddie misses you, Tony,” Lucy said, ignoring her father’s question.

“Enough about the damned dog. Get off my ranch, Bravo.”

“I’d like a word with you first.” Tony moved closer to the porch.

“A word about what?”

“We believe—” Tony had yet to convince his boss of his hunch “—that underage girls are being kidnapped and brought over the border then sold into the sex trade in the Midwest.”

“How awful,” Lucy said.

Durango chomped on his cigar. “And this concerns me how?”

“We suspect members of a Mexican cartel are crossing into the United States between the San Luis and Lukeville ports of entry then making their way north through Stagecoach.” Tony paused for a moment to allow the information to sink in. “We have reason to believe the men are using your ranch as a shortcut through the area.”

“You got any proof of that?” Durango puffed on his cigar.

“Witness reports spotting young females walking on your property along highway 41.”

“Reliable witnesses, or illegals you didn’t catch at the border?” Durango asked.

“Reliable witnesses. I’d like to take a look around your place.”

“Have your boss call me. I’ll consider giving him access, but not you.”

“Dad!” Miffed at her father’s rude behavior, Lucy spoke to Tony. “Thank you for bringing Maddie home.”

Tony flashed a half smile and her pulse fluttered with yearning, just as it had each morning he’d kissed her goodbye after each of their motel rendezvous. They’d kept their affair a secret because Tony’s mother had been old-fashioned and expected her son to marry a Hispanic girl. Of course, Lucy’s father wouldn’t have approved of Tony, because he hadn’t come from a wealthy, prestigious family. They’d also worried that their parents’ objections to their relationship would distract Michael from his quest for a national title.

Each time she and Tony had seen each other, they’d fallen more and more in love, and the strain of keeping their affair a secret had worn them down. Finally they’d decided to tell their parents during Lucy’s spring break in April, after Tony and Michael returned from the rodeo in Prescott. But Michael had died that night, and Tony had refused to see Lucy or take her calls. He’d broken her heart when she’d needed him most.

Shoving the memories aside, Lucy blamed her sudden queasiness on the fact that tomorrow was the anniversary of her brother’s death, and although she’d tried to avoid thinking about it, the pain was a constant presence in her heart. If she knew what was good for her, she’d also keep her feelings for Tony locked away and focus on her fundraiser.

After the taillights of Tony’s truck disappeared, she said, “Dad, don’t make it difficult for the border patrol to do their job.”

Her father stared unseeingly into space.

“If illegals are cutting across the ranch, what’s going to stop them from coming up to the house and robbing us, or worse?” Lucy said.

“Bravo’s making a big deal out of nothing, because he’s looking out for himself.”

“I don’t understand.”

“He requested a transfer to the border patrol office in San Diego.”

“How do you—” Never mind. Her father had eyes and ears all over the state.

“He needs credit for cracking a big case in order to get his transfer.”

“You don’t believe Tony deserves the promotion, do you?”

Her father retreated inside the house, the smack of the screen door answering Lucy’s question.

When would he stop blaming Tony for Michael’s death?

When you tell him the truth.

Lucy’s eyes burned with tears. She’d hoped the Pony Express would make up for her grave blunder the night Michael had died, but maybe she was fooling herself—there were some things in life one couldn’t make amends for.

“Back to the kennel for you, girl.” Lucy put Maddie in the outdoor cage and secured the lock. On the way to the office in the barn, she silently cursed. She’d forgotten to ask Tony if he still had her brother’s bucking machine. Now that she thought about it, she’d wait to ask him until she heard back from Shannon about the rodeos. No sense stirring up trouble until she knew for sure that she’d be riding a real-life bull.

* * *

“HEY, MOM , IT ’ S ME,” Tony called out as he entered his mother’s trailer.

“In the kitchen!”

He found her sliding a cake pan into the oven.

“You’re late.” She closed the oven door.

“Sorry.” Tony hugged her. “I should have called.” But he’d been too agitated, his mind a jumble of tangled thoughts after running into Lucy along the highway then dealing with a stubborn dog and a mulish Cal Durango.

“Problems at work?”

In his line of duty there were always problems. “No.” He watched his mother dish out the chicken pot pie she’d made for their once-a-week supper together. “I ran into Lucy Durango today.”

“Oh?”

“Maddie took off and Lucy was out searching for her.”

“Did you find the dog?” His mother set their plates on the table and sat down.

“Yeah.” He omitted the part where Maddie had waited for Lucy to leave before approaching Tony. His mother would insist the dog missed Tony and that he should visit Maddie once in a while—as if Lucy’s father would allow him near the dog, never mind his daughter.

“Mr. Bonner lost his cat last week—flattened by a semitruck.”

“Nice visual before we eat,” Tony said.

“Sorry. No more animal talk at the table.”

Tony would be lying if he didn’t admit that he missed Maddie and all the dog represented—a friendship with Michael that had begun with an I-dare-you game on a school playground and had evolved into a brotherly bond. Tony had lost a part of himself when his best friend died, and Maddie brought to the surface all the pain buried inside him.

“How did you do at the rodeo last weekend?” His mother’s brown eyes twinkled as they roamed over Tony. “You’re not sporting a cast or bandages.”

“I got thrown.” Tony was twenty-seven, but some days he felt like an old man. He used to be a decent bull rider before he’d begun working for the border patrol. Now he was lucky if he lasted eight seconds on the back of a bull in one out of ten rodeos. He should retire his spurs, but he was reluctant to give up those few hours a month when he could keep his memory of Michael alive.

“Any news on the transfer?” his mother asked.

“Not yet.” Six months ago, after two years of pretending he’d moved on from Michael’s death and his affair with Lucy, he’d finally admitted that he wouldn’t be able to put the past behind him until he left Stagecoach.

“The cost of living is much higher in California.”

His mother was not in favor of her only child leaving town. Tony would miss his mom, but San Diego wasn’t so far away that he couldn’t make a monthly trip to Stagecoach. “You could relocate to America’s Finest City with me.”

“I’m comfortable at my job, honey. I don’t want to start at the bottom of the waitress ladder.”

“I bet Juan would move with you.” His mother and the grill cook at the truck stop had been dating for several years but his mother wasn’t interested in tying the knot—her heart still belonged to Tony’s father.

“You haven’t said how Lucy’s doing.” His mother quirked an eyebrow.

“She’s fine.”

“Just fine?”

Actually, Lucy was more than fine. After two years of catching only glimpses of her from a distance, seeing her up close at the rodeo had stolen his breath. Her smile had reminded him that he’d lost more than his best friend because of a stupid lapse in judgment. He’d also lost the girl who’d captured his heart. Tony shoveled a forkful of food into his mouth, chewed and swallowed. “Lucy was at the rodeo last weekend.”

“Really?”

He had been more than a little surprised he’d bumped into her in the cowboy ready area. After Michael died, the Durangos quit attending rodeos, while Tony continued to ride, wanting to hold on to the one thing that had been a huge part of his friend’s life.

“I noticed the Pony Express van parked in front of Gilley’s Tap House the other night.”

Never in a million years had Tony believed Lucy would start up her own business in Stagecoach. No one talked about it—at least not out loud—but it didn’t take a genius to understand that the free taxi service was Lucy’s way of honoring her brother’s memory. The van served as a solemn reminder of how Tony had failed his best friend.

“You’re awfully quiet,” his mother said. “What’s wrong?”

“I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“Still no leads on the Mexican gang smuggling girls across the border?”

“No.” But he was positive that if border patrol agents staked out the Durango Ranch, they’d catch the bastards transporting their human cargo through the desert.

“I hope you get a break in the case soon.” His mother pointed to Tony’s plate. “Do you have room for seconds?”

“No, thanks.” He carried his plate to the sink. “I’ll tighten the bathroom faucet before I leave.”

“You’re not staying?”

Unless he received an emergency call from work, Tony watched TV with his mother for an hour or two after supper. Approaching the anniversary of his best friend’s death, he wouldn’t be good company, so he fibbed. “I’ve got paperwork to catch up on.”

“I made the cake for you.”

“Juan will appreciate your chocolate cake.”

“He’s on a diet.” Juan was a big man who made no apologies for his big appetite.

While his mother cleared the table and washed the dishes, Tony went outside and unlocked the storage shed. His father’s tool kit sat on the ground inside the door. A half hour later, Tony had fixed the bathroom faucet, oiled a squeaky doorjamb and loosened the sticky window at the front of the trailer. Then he kissed his mother goodbye and headed to Yuma.

He’d only driven a few miles when he found himself parked in front of the Saguaro Cactus Lounge, staring at the blinking Budweiser sign in the window. Some days, life called for a beer.

Today was one of them.

* * *

“DON ’ T WORRY , H ECTOR . You stay home tonight and feel better. I’ll be out soon to pick up the van.” Lucy disconnected the call.

Poor Hector. One of his granddaughters was taking a culinary class in Yuma and had cooked a chicken sausage seafood gumbo for the family. Hector had barely made it back home before being hit with food poisoning.

Lucy left her office in the barn and returned to the house for her purse. Dinner would be on the run tonight.

“Where are you off to?” her mother called out.

Lucy put the brakes on outside the sun room where her mother sat reading. “Hector’s not feeling well. I’ll be handling the calls for the Pony Express tonight.”

The lines bracketing her mother’s mouth deepened, but she refrained from voicing her disapproval. “Call when you get to Hector’s.”

Lucy swallowed a sharp retort and left the house. A twenty-four-year-old shouldn’t have to report in to her mother, but Michael’s death had changed the family dynamic in more ways than size. Sonja Durango wanted to know every move her daughter made. Full of guilt, Lucy had been happy to keep her mother informed of her whereabouts, believing it would only be a matter of time before she got over her fear of something happening to Lucy. But months turned into a year, and now two, and still her mother hadn’t eased up on monitoring Lucy’s activities.

The drive to Hector’s took twenty minutes. He lived in the foreman’s cabin on the Ace of Spades Ranch, west of Stagecoach. Bill Gunderson no longer ran cattle on his land now that he and his wife spent half the year on the East Coast with their son’s family. In exchange for watching over the property, Hector lived there rent-free.

When she pulled up to the cabin, Hector’s mongrel dog emerged from his underground den beneath the porch. “Hey, Blue. It’s Lucy.” Holding out her hand, she approached the chained dog cautiously. Blue sniffed then wagged his tail. “You remember me, don’t you?”

The tail wagged harder. Hector had found the stray dog limping on the property. Blue had been suffering from mange and the vet had confirmed he was going blind. Losing his sight made Blue more aggressive and fearful of strangers, so Hector no longer took the dog with him when he left the ranch. Blue spent most of his days under the porch in the cool dirt cavern Hector had dug for him.

“Where’s Clementine?” Lucy glanced across the porch and spotted the gray cat lounging on the chair by the door. “Hey, Clementine.” The cat’s tail twitched once. Clementine barely tolerated Blue until the nights grew cold, then she slept with him beneath the porch.

“How about some fresh water, kids?” Lucy refilled the large water bowl from the spigot connected to the side of the cabin, set it on the bottom porch step then texted her mother that she’d arrived at Hector’s.

“Hector, it’s Lucy,” she called out as she let herself inside the cabin.

“Keys are by the door.” The muffled voice came from the hall bathroom.

“Hope you feel better soon.” She placed a set of keys to her truck on the table then left the cabin. After giving Blue one more pat on the head, she drove off in the Pony Express passenger van. She’d almost made it to the highway when her cell phone rang.

“Pony Express, Lucy Durango speaking.”

“Lucy, it’s Bob out at the Saguaro Cactus Lounge.”

“It’s only eight o’clock and you have a pickup for me?”

“Not yet but I figure he’ll need a lift by ten.”

“You’re prebooking a ride?”

“Yep.”

“Is he a regular?”

“Nope.”

If the cowboy wasn’t a regular, it usually meant the guy was drinking off a heartache. “Who is he?”

“Tony Bravo.”

Tony? At least he wasn’t on duty. “Did he say why he’s drinking?”

Bob chuckled. “Border patrol agents don’t need a reason to drink.”

“I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

She disconnected the call then turned onto the highway. Tony had never been a big drinker. Even when he and Michael celebrated their twenty-first birthdays, the guys hadn’t gone on a bender because they’d had to rodeo the following day.

There were only a handful of vehicles parked in the lot when she arrived at the bar. As soon as she entered the tavern, Bob nodded to the stool where Tony sat hunched over a beer glass. He was drinking tap beer—the cheap stuff.

Lucy passed a pair of cowboys throwing darts and four more playing cards before she slid onto the stool next to Tony. She tapped a fingernail against the bar, keeping time with the George Strait song playing on the jukebox. Tony ignored her. After a minute, she broke the silence. “I’m sorry you didn’t make it to eight last weekend.”

Keeping his gaze on his beer, he said, “Thought you’d left the rodeo before my ride.”

“I stayed.” She’d missed watching Tony and her brother tangle with bulls. “Tough draw.”

“Hardly.” He guzzled the amber liquid in the glass.

“Just so you know, I’m here on official business,” she said.

“This is my second—” he counted the glasses on the bar “—third beer.”

“Bob reserved a seat for you in the van.”

“I can handle my liquor.”

Chilled by the air conditioner mounted on the wall next to Tony, she asked, “You want to go somewhere and talk?”

His dark gaze unnerved Lucy. Did he assume she wanted to talk about the past—more specifically their past?

Tony fished his wallet from his pocket, left a ten-dollar bill on the bar then nodded to the door. “Lead the way.”

As soon as they stepped outside, Lucy said, “I haven’t had supper. Let’s head up the road to Vern’s.”

“Leave the van here.” He threw her his truck keys.