The Cowboy Way: A Creed in Stone Creek / Part Time Cowboy

Tom, already signaling to turn onto Ashley’s street, cast a quizzical glance in her direction. “Really?” he asked. “You worked pretty hard to earn that law degree and pass the bar exam and then build a resume. What would you do if you weren’t a lawyer?”

As the alley between the Crocketts’ and the B&B came into focus, toward the end of the block, cell memory must have kicked in, because Melissa felt the impact of her fall all over again, as if it had just happened.

“Interesting question,” she murmured in response. Before the breakup, she and Dan had agreed on a general plan: she would take a few years off from her career when she felt ready, help raise his two boys, have at least one baby, try out some of the domestic arts, like cooking and decorating, à la Ashley. “And I don’t think I know the answer.”

And that was probably the whole problem, she reflected. She not only didn’t know what she would do if she didn’t practice law, she didn’t know who she would be.

She’d been so sure that she loved Dan, wanted to make a life with him, but when it came time to set a date and to actually get married, Melissa had panicked. Dan, who’d been patient for a long time, had been coldly furious, and then he’d delivered an ultimatum; she had forty-eight hours to make a decision, one way or the other: marry him, or call it quits.

Melissa hadn’t needed forty-eight hours, or even forty-eight seconds.

She’d called it quits.

Of course, she’d expected Dan to come around in a day or two—a week at the longest—with flowers and sweet talk, the way he had every other time they’d ever disagreed about anything, large or small, but that time was different. There was no soft music, no steamy makeup sex, no anything. Within a week, in fact, Dan was dating a waitress, the woman he’d since married.

“Well,” Tom said, drawing the cruiser to a stop in front of the B&B. “We’re here.”

“Yes,” Melissa said, squinting her eyes and peering at the front of her sister and brother-in-law’s gracious house. “Let’s get this over with.”

Tom chuckled, unfastened his seat belt and got out of the car. Reaching the sidewalk, he opened Melissa’s door for her, then released Elvis from the back.

Even from where they stood, the sounds of merriment coming from behind the house were clearly audible. There was spritely guitar music, laughter, cheering and loud, enthusiastic applause.

“Damn,” Melissa muttered, shaking her head, as Tom opened the front gate and waited for her to walk through ahead of him.

“You can wait here if you want to,” Tom offered, as Elvis trotted happily ahead, nose to the ground.

“It isn’t as if I’ve never seen a naked man before, you know,” she said.

Tom laughed. “Huh?”

Unwittingly, she’d just revealed her secret fear: that the B&B guests were naked again. “You know what I meant,” Melissa replied, with a little snap to her tone.

Tom remained amused. “By the way,” he went on, “what’s the matter with you? You flinched every time I took a corner on the way over here, and I’d swear you’re limping a little.”

He’d taken the lead, following the walk that ran alongside the house and into the backyard with its high fences and sheltering trees, but he looked over his shoulder at her as he spoke.

Melissa raised and lowered her shoulders. Carefully. “I took a little spill when I was running this morning,” she said. “It’s no big deal.”

Elvis, having reached the backyard, began to bark. The sound was the purest joy, and Melissa had to smile.

Tom stopped in his tracks as soon as he’d rounded the far corner of the house, and Melissa, bringing up the rear, almost collided with him.

“I’ll be damned,” he murmured.

She peeked around him.

And there was the Wild Bunch, the men dressed like matadors, except for their hats, the women in flamenco outfits and holding roses in their teeth, tangoing like mad across the wide stone patio.

The music, pouring from a boom box, was deafening.

Elvis stood near the edge of the patio, a delighted witness to the festivities, barking his brains out as he followed the action.

Spotting Melissa and Tom, John Winthrop hurried over to crank down the volume on the boom box. He was wearing one of those round hats trimmed with tiny pom-poms.

The other man in the group finished up the dance by dipping his partner.

Melissa, more impressed than she would have admitted to Tom Parker or anyone else, could only assume that osteoporosis wasn’t an issue in this particular crowd.

Tom cleared his throat, then summoned Elvis to his side.

Melissa stepped up next to him, concentrating on one thing. Not laughing.

“Why, it’s Melissa,” said Mr. Winthrop, beaming, taking off his hat and bowing deeply. “How nice to see you again!”

“That’s quite a costume,” Melissa said.

“Rented,” Mr. Winthrop replied. He drew in a deep, robust breath and let it out in a whoosh. “We got to talking about our trip to Spain—we went three years ago—and I guess we got a little carried away by all the memories.”

“There’s no costume-rental place in Stone Creek,” Tom said, sounding suspicious.

“We called a shop in Flagstaff,” Winthrop explained jovially. “They were kind enough to deliver.”

“Oh,” Tom replied, clearly at a loss.

“The neighbors are complaining about the music,” Melissa told the gang. “It was too loud.”

The women looked annoyed. The men were crestfallen. Melissa felt like the original wet blanket.

“Well, I guess there’s no harm done,” Tom allowed. “If you’ll all just keep the noise down a little, everybody will be happy.”

“Not everybody,” said the woman in the red dress, trailing ruffles behind her and fiddling with the Spanish comb in her hair.

“We’ll behave,” Mr. Winthrop promised.

The woman in the red dress harrumphed, arms folded.

“Fair enough,” Tom said agreeably.

By then, Melissa was wondering why she’d come along on this mission, since Tom didn’t seem to need her help. If asked, she would have said it had seemed like a good idea at the time.

She smiled apologetically at the croquet/tango team. Winced when Tom took a light grip on her arm.

“That does it,” he said to Melissa, as they walked away, Elvis ambling along behind them. “I’m taking you over to the clinic in Indian Rock.”

Melissa sighed. “I’m just fine,” she protested. “In fact, I was thinking I might like to try the tango—”

Tom flashed her a grin as he opened the door of the squad car for her and helped her to ease inside. “No way,” he said.