No Ordinary Cowboy

“The Cowboy Rebels are playing to a packed house and Carter—” Lucy looked both ways before pulling onto the road and heading back to the Saguaro Cactus Lounge “—said a couple of guys have reached their limit and he wants them gone before they pick a fight.”

“Carter should call the cops if his customers are giving him trouble.”

“He’d rather I haul the cowboys away than risk the sheriff’s deputy closing him down for the night.”

Tony hated the thought of Lucy alone on the road with drunken men.

She’s not your girl. You have no say in what she does.

Lucy turned into the lounge and parked next to the Pony Express van. Before they got out of his truck, he said, “Mind if I ride along with you tonight?” What the heck else did he have to do but go home and worry about Lucy’s safety?

“Okay.” Lucy smiled. “I doubt the passengers will give me any trouble with a border patrol agent riding shotgun.”

* * *

“YOU MISSED THE turnoff,” Tony said.

Shoot. Lucy had been thinking about Tony’s confession that he was to blame for Michael’s death. “Sorry.” She slowed the van, checked her mirrors and made a U-turn. She hadn’t believed she could feel any guiltier than she already did, but Tony’s admission twisted the screws tighter.

Tell him it isn’t his fault. Tell him it’s your fault.

Too late. The lot at Willie’s was jammed, so Lucy parked in front of the entrance—an oversize royal-blue door that sported a silhouette of a cowboy. The dance hall reminded Lucy of an airplane hangar—a windowless aluminum building with a rusty tin roof. Giant swamp coolers circulated damp air while the metal doors at both ends of the building had been rolled up, allowing the music to spill into the desert.

“Wait here,” Lucy said.

“Are you kidding? I want to see you in action.” Tony followed her into the bar.

Lucy winced at the loud music as she wove through the maze of sweaty bodies and worked her way up to the bar, where the owner poured drinks. Carter spotted her and nodded. The former Phoenix Cardinal linebacker had retired in Yuma and opened Willie’s five years ago. When Lucy reached him, he motioned to the guys sitting at a nearby table.

“Bobby Ray and Billy John,” Carter shouted above the noise. “Good luck.” He handed Lucy a set of keys.

Tony intercepted the pass and snatched the key ring.

“You hire a new driver?” Carter glanced between Lucy and Tony.

“Carter Hawkins…Tony Bravo,” Lucy said. They shook hands.

“I remember you,” Carter said. “You rode bulls with Lucy’s brother.”

“And you had a pretty good career with the Cardinals,” Tony said.

“I did.” Carter grinned. “Still ride bulls?”

“Every now and then. Tonight I’m riding along with Lucy.”

“Good.” Carter pointed to her customers. “Billy John is harmless but Bobby Ray’s a hothead.” One of the waitresses called Carter’s name and the owner walked off.

“I’ll handle these guys,” Tony said.

Tony’s take-charge attitude didn’t offend Lucy. He wouldn’t be a good border patrol agent if he wasn’t self-assured and confident. “Let’s go,” Tony said to the men.

The cowboys stared with stony expressions. Time to pour on the charm. “Evenin’, gentlemen.” Lucy smiled sweetly. “You’ve bought yourselves a ticket on the Pony Express.” The line sounded corny but most of her customers chuckled.

Casting evil glares at Carter, the men rose to their feet and stumbled toward the exit. Once they stepped outside, Lucy asked, “Where are you fellas from?”

“Yuma,” Bobby Ray said.

She unlocked the side door on the van. “You looking for a ride into town then?”

“Unless you’re offerin’ a different kind of ride tonight?” Bobby Ray leered at Lucy, and Billy John snickered.

Tony stepped forward, but Lucy blocked his path. She’d use Tony as backup only if necessary. “Sorry, but you won’t find that kind of ride in this van.”

“Aw, c’mon, sugar.”

When Bobby Ray made a move toward Lucy, she grabbed his forearm and spun, tossing him over her shoulder and onto the ground. Before the cowboy knew what had happened, Lucy had planted her boot heel against his windpipe. “Rule number one. Don’t mess with the driver. Got that, Bobby Ray?”

Tony whistled low between his teeth. “Nice job.”

Secretly pleased she’d impressed Tony, Lucy said, “If you gentlemen mind your manners, I’ll give you a lift into Yuma. If not, you sit in the parking lot until the sheriff arrives. What’ll it be?”

Bobby Ray grimaced. “Yuma.”

“Shut up and behave, Bobby.” Billy John helped his friend off the ground. “Sue Ann will have my head if I don’t come home tonight.”

“Either of you carrying a weapon?” Lucy asked.

“No, ma’am.” Both men raised their arms in the air.

“Lift your jeans up over your boots.” Satisfied neither cowboy carried a knife or a gun, Lucy said, “Get in.”

Tony closed the van door then hopped into the front passenger seat.

“Who are you?” Billy John asked Tony after Lucy started the engine.

“Tony Bravo. Border patrol agent.”

“Someone give me an address.” Lucy input the information into the GPS as Billy John recited it.

“How often do you end up at the wrong house?” Tony asked.

“Never. But Hector’s landed in a few strange places.”

“That was pretty impressive,” Tony said. “Where’d you learn to flip a guy onto his back?”

“I took a self-defense class in college.” She left out that she’d dated her instructor, Keith, for nine months.

“I’m glad you know how to defend yourself, but you should have a partner if you’re going to drive the van.”