The Cowboy Soldier's Sons

“Looks like a woman to me,” he said. “Focus, bro. We’ve got a job to do here.”

“I know it’s a woman. In fact, I know who it is.” Gage stared at him. “What I want to know is why she’s here.”

Shaman shrugged. “Cupertino hangs around on occasion, brings me a meal or two.”

His brother was agog. “Not you.”

He shrugged again. “Guess so.”

They watched the blonde get in her Land Rover and drive away. Shaman always hated to see her go. He never knew if she’d return. She usually came around dinnertime, and stayed through the night, letting him worship her between the sheets.

Sometimes she didn’t return for a day or two, and that always worried him. One day she’d get tired of him, a simple man with not much to offer, and he would never see her again. Whatever demons she was exorcising out of her soul were nothing she cared to talk about. In fact, the two of them didn’t do much talking.

“Listen,” his brother said. “Tempest is not someone you just toy with. That is a very kind woman. Cat and Chelsea consider her a friend.”

“Yeah.” Shaman liked her, too. His gaze went back to the giant bulldozer about to push into the enormous old barn. “She’s real nice.”

“No, no.” Gage shook his head. “You don’t understand. Tempest is a good woman.”

“I got that. You’re getting twisted up for nothing, bro. Listen, Cupertino brings me dinner. I guess she thinks I’m starving. And I say thanks, because the truth is, she’s a darn good cook. And I like to look at her.” He shook his head. “You can’t expect me to turn that down.”

Gage was clearly astonished. After a minute, he said, “You call her Cupertino?”

“That’s her name.”

“But do you know who she is?” he demanded.

“She’s a woman who grew up in Tempest.” Shaman didn’t see what the big deal was. It wasn’t like he was sending out engraved invitations begging her to come by. She showed up when she wanted, she left when she wanted.

“She’s in negotiation right now for a starring role in a major Broadway production that might be turned into a movie, for one thing,” his brother told him.

“Is she?” Shaman watched the bulldozer tear into the first wall, collapsing it. Dust and bits of wood flew everywhere.

“If you’d read the newspaper, you’d know that,” Gage said. “The New York Times publishes a Sunday edition that’s really quite informative, if you cared to learn about the world around you.”

He laughed. “The paperboy must have left me off the route.”

“Online Times is just fine. You can read it every day. Takes very little effort. You get twenty free articles the first month, and if you decide you like being informed about the world outside of your shell, you can subscribe. It’s great.”

“Yeah, well. There’s no internet here. If you haven’t noticed, we’re miles from civilization.” And Shaman didn’t really care. He liked the setup just the way it was. He didn’t want to know more about the woman than he did. Whatever it was that she wanted from him, it suited him well.

“There is internet,” Gage stated. “In fact, the internet is how Cat found Tempest in the first place.”

That caught Shaman’s attention. “Our niece wrote her?”

“Yes. Cat wanted Tempest to come home. She thought my wife’s writing creativity would get a boost if she met Tempest. Cat had other reasons for choosing her for pen pal status, but that’s the main idea. So don’t tell me the internet doesn’t work. It’s what brought her all the way from Italy.”

“Doesn’t matter. She’ll go to her gig when she’s ready. In the meantime, she doesn’t look like she’s suffering, does she?” Shaman asked, crossing his arms. “I mean, if you’re trying to infer that she can do better than me, I’ll be the first to admit I’m no prince, bro.”

Gage shook his head. There probably would have been more discussion of the wonders of the woman who seemed to want nothing more than nights in Shaman’s arms, but two walls collapsed on the barn, and workers started yelling and running around, ending the debate.

Thankfully. Because if he heard any more about what a goddess she was, he was going to have to tell her to take her picnic basket and hit the road. Shaman knew that, like the beast in the fairy tale, you should just appreciate the pretty things in life—while in the back of your mind you heard your mother saying, “Don’t touch anything in the store! You might break it.” You heard your father say, “A woman only wants a man with money and power.”

One day it’ll be over.

Right now, I just try to make her happy.

Chapter Two

“We’re going to have to quit meeting like this.” Shaman got out of bed, glancing back at the beautiful blonde gracing his sheets.

Tempest rose, too, dragging the sheet with her. If he had more time, he’d consider snatching it off her and tumbling them both back into bed.

“Shaman,” she said, “it’s not forever.”

He wondered what was happening about her negotiations for the Broadway show, but wasn’t about to ask. She’d never mentioned her career, so presumably it was something she didn’t care to discuss, at least not with him. “Yeah,” he said. “Forever’s a tough thing to plan.”

She smiled. “I’m going to get dressed.”

He turned away. “Be my guest. The workers arrived about ten minutes ago, so I’m going to head out.”

“Thanks.” She took her sheet into the bathroom with her, wrapped toga-style, goddesslike. He stared at the door for a long moment, briefly pondering taking her in the shower, then decided maybe she wouldn’t welcome that. These “visitations” of hers were strictly on her terms.

He finished dressing and took off for the barn, snagging a bagel from the stash Tempest had put on the counter.

Then again, one never knew which visit would be the last. He was not a man to look at destiny without a measure of appreciation—and she had mentioned “not forever,” though they’d never talked about the future before. A warning sensation shifted inside him, a prickling of unease. Intuition was a powerful thing, whether in looking out for mines and roadside bombs, or knowing that eventually a woman like her was ready to move on.

“What the hell,” Shaman said, and went back inside to appreciate the best thing that had happened to him in years.

* * *

IT HAD BEEN TWO DAYS since she’d seen Shaman. Tempest was trying to figure out why spending time with him was beginning to matter so much to her. He was kind and strong, qualities that really called to her.

But she needed distance. Deeply felt the need for some space. So today she was renewing a special friendship instead of concentrating on hunky cowboys. She’d brought Cat Phillips, Shaman’s niece, to share a Shinny “special” with her. The change in the teen from sullen to happy heartened Tempest, made her yearn for the same sort of carefree joy in her own life.

“My dad says,” Cat Phillips began, settling into the red-lipstick-colored booth, “that you’re a short-timer.”

She smiled at the teen. “A short-timer here in Tempest?”

Cat nodded, slurping the chocolate milkshake Shinny had made. “Dad says this is too much of a backwater for you. He says that even if you do like Uncle Shaman, you won’t stay because there’s nothing here.” The teen shrugged. “I thought that once, too. Now I think there’s lots here.”

“It’s good that your father talks to you so much,” Tempest said, not really wanting to speak about the short-timer tag that had been hung on her.

“He didn’t talk to me about you and Uncle Shaman,” Cat said. “I heard him telling Chelsea that he doesn’t expect you to be around much longer, which is a good thing, because he doesn’t want Shaman to break your heart.”

Tempest blinked. “Really.”

“Mmm.” The girl nodded, her freshly bobbed black hair moving as she eagerly reached for the cookies Shinny’s wife, Blanche, placed in front of them before heading away from their booth. “Dad says Uncle Shaman is damaged goods, for one thing, now that he’s been in the military so long. He also says my uncle’s stubborn as hell, and he won’t do anything but hide out at Dark Diablo.”