Cowboy At Arms

Even if Trisha hadn’t called him, surely she would have contacted Daisy by now to give her a heads-up if she was no longer going to work at the café. Daisy had said nothing to him about that happening when he’d come in.

He sipped his coffee and watched customers arrive and depart, and instead of thinking about Trisha, he found himself thinking about her son.

He’d never spent much time around kids. He certainly hadn’t ever really considered whether he wanted children or not. He didn’t know how to be a father. He definitely hadn’t had a stellar role model where parents were concerned.

A knot of tension fisted up in his stomach and a phantom pain fired off in his left ear. He’d lied to Trisha when he’d told her he didn’t have any family. As far as he knew his parents were still alive and well in Oklahoma City, but they’d both been dead to Dusty since he’d left home and them far behind.

He hadn’t wanted to share any part of his nightmarish past with Trisha on their very first date.

Only Forest Stevens had known the full extent of what Dusty had gone through in his childhood. The big cowboy had been not only another runaway on the streets but had also become Dusty’s best friend and protector during those dark and frightening days before they’d finally landed at Cass’s ranch for a second chance at life.

Dusty knew in his very gut that he would have died on the streets without Forest watching over him. He mentally made a note to call his friend soon.

He was working on his second cup of coffee when Zeke Osmond walked into the café. The dark-haired, wiry man spied Dusty and immediately headed toward him. Dusty sat up straighter in his chair and wondered what Zeke might want with him. The two of them certainly didn’t share any kind of a friendship.

“I heard through the grapevine that you were out with Trisha last night,” he said as he stopped next to Dusty’s chair. The man smelled of body odor, cigarette smoke and cow manure.

“You heard right,” Dusty replied. “You have a problem with it?”

“I just didn’t know that she was stupid enough to waste any of her time on a snot-nosed, no-account cowboy who had a social worker and a crazy old broad as his parents.” Zeke rocked back on his heels and narrowed his eyes as if anticipating some kind of violent response.

Dusty wouldn’t give him the pleasure despite the swift bite of anger that roared up in his chest. “Are you done here?” He held Zeke’s gaze for a long moment and then looked down at the table and picked up his coffee cup, as if the man warranted not another second of his time or attention.

He sensed when Zeke walked away from the table and he looked up again to see the creep joining another group of men at a booth on the other side of the café.

Why on earth did Zeke Osmond give a damn about him seeing Trisha...unless Zeke wanted her for himself? Was it possible that Zeke was responsible for the mug of flowers and the note that had been left at her doorstep the night before?

Could Zeke be her secret admirer?

The very thought made Dusty slightly sick to his stomach. He didn’t know if he was the man Trisha wanted or needed in her life, but he’d sure as hell do anything in his power to make sure somebody like Zeke didn’t become that man.

* * *

It had been one of the longest nights of Trisha’s life. She’d tossed and turned for hours as she’d wondered what she should do. Just after three in the morning, she finally made the decision to do nothing for now.

Once she’d decided to stay in Bitterroot and not immediately gather her things and leave, she’d fallen into a sleep tormented by nightmares of dead wildflowers and a big, ominous shadow man chasing her through the night.

Cooper had awakened at his usual early time, and as he ate breakfast Trisha drank a cup of coffee and thought about the afternoon to come.

Despite her concern about the “gifts” that had been left for her, she was looking forward to spending more time with Dusty, which had ultimately made her decide to hang around.

Hopefully he’d been right when he’d immediately declared that she apparently had a secret admirer, and hopefully it was somebody from town and not a certain someone from her past.

Before she’d finally gone to sleep, a dozen names of men who could potentially be the mystery man had jumped into her brain. They were men who always chose to sit in her section when she was working at the café, or who had asked her out in the past. She supposed that any one of them could have left her the flowers and the note.

After breakfast as she and Cooper headed outside to the small motel playground, she shoved all thoughts of the troubling situation out of her head. She simply didn’t want to think about it today.

“I’ve got a surprise for you,” she said to her son as he took a seat on one of the faded red swings.

“A surprise?” His eyes lit up in anticipation.

“How would you like it if a cowboy picked us up this afternoon and took us fishing on the ranch where he works?”

Cooper’s eyes widened. “A real cowboy and fishing?” He kicked his little legs with excitement. “What’s the cowboy’s name? Is it the Duke?”

Trisha laughed. “No, honey, it isn’t the Duke. His name is Dusty and he’s really nice.”

“And he’s gonna tell me how to catch a fish?” Once again Cooper wiggled in the swing seat with barely contained happiness. “I can’t wait. I want to go now. When will he be here?”

“After your nap this afternoon,” she replied. “Now, hang on tight so that I can give you a push.”

Later that day when Cooper was napping, Trisha took a long shower and considered the fact that she was introducing her son to a man. She didn’t know if it was a good idea or a bad one to introduce the two so quickly. She had no rule book to study to find the correct answer in this situation.

All she did know was that Cooper would love the plans for the day and it would be good for him to have a little male interaction.

Over the past couple of months he’d occasionally asked why he didn’t have a daddy. She’d told her son the same lie that she had told Dusty—that his father had died in a tragic accident. She had no other choice, for the truth was so much worse than the lie. How did you tell a little boy that his daddy was a monster?

Besides, maybe it was a good thing to see how Dusty interacted with Cooper right from the get-go. If Cooper didn’t like Dusty, or she sensed that Dusty didn’t like her son, then that would definitely be the end of things between them.

She dressed in a pair of jean shorts and a sleeveless denim blouse that had pearly white snaps up the front. She couldn’t help the surge of excitement that winged through her as she anticipated spending more time with Dusty.

She wanted to let herself go, to be happy and carefree. Was that really too much to ask of life after all she’d endured in the past?

While Cooper continued his nap, she sat at the table and looked at the house rentals listed in the Bitterroot newspaper.

Today there were a total of five listed. The first two were too big and expensive. One was too far out of town, but the last two had promise. She circled the two ads with a red pen, determined to check them out within the next couple of days.

Although she’d told herself that she would make a move in the next month or two, as she gazed at her son sleeping in the center of the motel room bed they shared, she knew it was way past time that she found them a more permanent home. Cooper deserved so much better than the living conditions they had now.

She awakened Cooper at two. Normally if she woke him up before he got his complete nap, he was a little cranky bug. But today he got up with a huge smile on his face and cowboys and fishing on his mind.

She dressed him in a clean pair of jean shorts and a red T-shirt and then slathered a liberal dose of sunscreen over any exposed skin. She topped his head with a red ball cap that would keep the sun off his tender scalp.

By two forty-five they were ready for Dusty’s arrival. The only last-minute thing they would have to do was move Cooper’s child seat from her car to Dusty’s truck. Thankfully, he had a king cab and the seat could be easily fastened into his backseat.

“I see a red truck,” Cooper exclaimed from his perch at the window. “Is that him, Mommy? Is that Dusty?”

“He has a red pickup truck, so that must be him,” she replied as butterflies took wing in her stomach.

Cooper scrambled out of his chair at the window and raced to the motel room door. “Come on, it’s time to go,” he said exuberantly.

Trisha laughed with an exuberance of her own. She was determined not to think about any negative things for the rest of the day. She was just going to embrace spending time with a handsome cowboy and her beloved son.

* * *

Chief of Police Dillon Bowie had never been so frustrated in his thirty-five years of life as he’d been since the skeletal remains had been unearthed on the Holiday ranch.

August would soon become September and then October, and he couldn’t imagine not having the heinous murders solved before the first snow began to fly.