The Cowboy Next Door

“You look tired.” Johnny guessed nightmares were robbing the former soldier of sleep. Dixie had told him that her husband had been diagnosed with PTSD after he’d served in Afghanistan, and a few mornings when Johnny had left the bunkhouse before dawn he’d found Gavin asleep on the porch swing.

“Did Dixie tell you Shannon Douglas’s father offered me the foreman’s job at the Triple D?”

“She did. Congratulations. When do you start?”

“Not until the end of the month. I was over there today helping Clive train a cutting horse.”

“Are you quitting the rodeo circuit?”

“I’m cutting back on events until I get a handle on running the Triple D.”

The squeak of the screen door interrupted the men and Dixie stepped onto the porch. She smiled at Johnny. “I thought I heard your voice.” She joined her husband on the swing, curling up against his side. “Did you see Shannon yesterday?”

He wished he could blame his serious lapse of judgment last night on Dixie’s insistence he check up on Shannon at the rodeo. But he was a big boy, and no one had forced him to follow the lady bull rider into her motel room.

“Shannon didn’t make it to eight on her bull but she’s fine.” Uncomfortable with the conversation he pushed away from the railing. “I’ve got a few phone calls to make.”

“Wait. The other day you never said whether or not Charlene was moving into the foreman’s cabin with you.”

He might as well get this over with. “Charlene and I broke up.”

Dixie gasped. “What happened? You two have been together forever.”

Gavin kissed the top of Dixie’s head. “Think I’ll grab a bite to eat.” He disappeared inside the house.

“You’re not leaving until you tell me what happened.” Dixie patted the empty spot next to her.

When had his baby sister become so bossy? He sat down. “This feels weird—you listening to my problems.” In the past, he played the role of Dear Abby.

“I’m sorry about Charlene.” Dixie hugged him.

Through the years Johnny had been the hugger, consoling his siblings when their grandparents had been busy with the farm or their mother had been out of town chasing the next love of her life. Johnny had grown to resent his mother for putting her own wants and needs before her children’s and when Aimee Cash had passed away the day before his eighteenth birthday, he hadn’t shed a tear. How could he cry for someone he’d barely spent any time with?

“Why did you two break up?” Dixie asked.

He repeated his standard line—because it sounded good. “Charlene and I have been growing apart for a while.”

“It’s my fault.”

“How’s that?”

“You were worried about me when I got pregnant last summer, then I miscarried and I was such a mess that you wouldn’t leave me alone for a minute.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Dix. I ignored the writing on the wall.” And Shannon had been his wake-up call.

“What do you mean?”

“You put years into a relationship, then one day you look at the other person and wonder what you have in common.” And when there’s no zip, zap or zing left in the kisses, it’s time to say goodbye.

“How’s Charlene taking it?”

Pretty damn well. “She’ll be fine.”

“And you?”

Shannon’s face popped into Johnny’s mind. What would Dixie say if he told her that he had the hots for her best friend? “I’ll be too busy at the Triple D to mope.”

“Are you sure you want to move into the foreman’s cabin? It’s not that far of a drive between the farm and the ranch.”

“I’ll be back to visit, especially if Gavin’s cooking chili for supper.”

“Who’s going to run herd over the rest of our brothers?”

“It’s your turn to keep everyone in line, Dix.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“If any of them give you trouble let me know and I’ll bang a few heads together.”

Right then the bunkhouse door flew open and Porter, the youngest brother, stepped outside and ducked as a cereal box flew past his head. “I didn’t know you were going to ask her out!” he shouted.

“Looks like you’ll be knocking heads sooner rather than later,” Dixie said.

“Better see what Porter did this time.” Johnny skipped down the steps and cut across the yard to referee the latest fight between his caterwauling brothers.

* * *

“THE DOG FOOD is in a plastic bin beneath the kitchen sink.” Roger McGee dropped the key to the foreman’s cabin into Johnny’s hand. The end of August had arrived and with it a changing of the guards at the Triple D.

“I’ll make sure Hank gets fed twice a day.” Johnny felt bad for the old man as he watched the cowboy struggle to say goodbye to thirty years of his life. If dogs could talk, Hank would say he didn’t like his master’s departure any more than Roger did. The hound lay in the dirt next to the Ford pickup as if he intended to ride along to Florida.

“Sure you can’t take Hank to your sister’s?” Johnny asked.

“Animals ain’t allowed in the condo units.”

“If you ever move into your own place, I’d be happy to drive Hank to Florida.”

“That’s right nice of you.” Roger’s eyes glistened as he descended the porch steps. He stopped at Hank’s side and patted the dog’s head.

Johnny went into the cabin to retrieve the leash, giving the foreman and his dog some privacy. After a minute, he stepped outside and clipped the tether to Hank’s collar. The dog refused to budge.

“Best tie him up for a week or two after I’m gone. He might run off.”

“Will do.” Johnny would have to keep close tabs on Hank. A jaunt through the desert in the August heat might kill the twelve-year-old hound before he reached the highway.

Roger hopped into the truck and gunned the engine. The ranch hand and the boss had said their farewells earlier in the morning, so there would be no big send-off this afternoon.

“Be sure to check in with Clive during your trip.” Johnny leaned through the open passenger window and shook Roger’s hand a second time. “Take care of yourself.” He’d miss the geezer. Roger had taught him everything he knew about cattle and horses when he’d first hired on as a part-time wrangler for the ranch fifteen years ago.

The Ford pulled away and Johnny tightened his grip on the leash when Hank whined. After a quarter mile, a dust cloud obscured the truck from view. “Well, boy, it’s you and me now.”

Inside the cabin the dog went straight to his bed pillow in the kitchen corner, where he watched his new master through sad, droopy eyes. The pathetic stare prompted Johnny to fetch a Milk-Bone from the cookie jar Roger left behind, but the dog wanted nothing to do with the treat. “I’ll leave it right here, boy.” He set the bone on the floor. “In case you change your mind.”

Johnny stood in the middle of the cabin, facing the front door. The kitchen sat to his right, the family room to his left. Behind him was a short hallway with a door to the bathroom and one to the bedroom. The cabin had come furnished and included a washer and dryer, dishwasher, and a full set of cookware, dishes, utensils and linens. There was also a satellite dish and internet access. All he’d had to bring was his clothing, toiletries, laptop computer and his iPod.

After years of sharing a house with five brothers and a sister, the quietness of the cabin bothered Johnny, but he was certain he’d enjoy the solitude once he became accustomed to living alone. He might as well unpack his clothes. He made it as far as the hallway when the sound of horns honking penetrated the cabin walls.

The Cash welcome wagon had arrived.

After making sure Hank remained on his pillow, Johnny stepped onto the porch and shielded his eyes from the late-afternoon sun. A wall of dust moved along the horizon as the caravan of pickups drew closer.

His brothers parked helter-skelter in front of the cabin, then got out of their trucks. When Johnny saw them standing in a group, he was reminded again of his mother. All five Cash brothers sported various shades of her blond hair and brown eyes. Johnny and Dixie were the only siblings who shared the same father and they’d inherited Charlie Smith’s dark brown hair and blue eyes.

“Hey, Johnny,” Willie Nelson, who preferred to be called Will, spoke. “We brought food.”

“Did you bring a grill? ’Cause I don’t have one,” Johnny said.

“Got it covered.” Buck Owens walked to the back of his truck and lifted a Weber cooker from the bed. He set it by the porch. “Your housewarming gift.”

“Mighty thoughtful of you all.” Johnny recognized the dual purpose of the gift—to cook food and to use it as an excuse to drop by unexpectedly for a free meal. Now that Dixie was running her gift shop in Yuma, she rarely put supper on the table for the family. Johnny had done his best to grill a few dinners each week for the group, but now that he’d moved away from the farm, he suspected his brothers were worried they’d starve to death.

“Hey, Mack, what’s your housewarming gift for me?” Johnny teased.

Merle Haggard, or Mack, pulled out his guitar. “I’m going to christen this place with a lucky love song.” He winked. “Before you know it, you’ll have women busting down your door.”

Ever since Johnny’s brothers had learned about his breakup with Charlene, they’d been concerned he’d sink into a deep depression. Little did they know another woman had already replaced Charlene in his thoughts. He’d had no contact with Shannon since the morning after the rodeo in Gila Bend, but not an hour of the day passed by when she didn’t cross his mind.

“I bought you a case of your favorite beer.” Conway Twitty set the carton on the porch floor.

“I suppose Isi talked her boss into giving you a deal on that beer,” Johnny said.

“Who’s Isi?” Porter Wagoner glanced between the brothers.

Conway shot Johnny a dark look, then spoke to their youngest brother. “She’s just a friend.” Conway used to seek Johnny’s advice when he had a dilemma with girls but a while back he confessed that he’d found a new confidant—a waitress at the Border Town Bar & Grill.

“I haven’t had a chance to grocery shop. My fridge is empty,” Johnny said.

“We got all the fixin’s.” Will hauled two grocery sacks from the front seat of his truck. “Where should I put this stuff?”

“Inside. Don’t let Hank out.”

“Roger didn’t take Hank with him?” Mack sat on the steps with his guitar.

“No.”

Porter and Buck filled the belly of the cooker with charcoal, while Mack strummed his guitar and Conway sang off-key. Johnny went inside to help the second eldest Cash brother with the meal preparations. As much as he’d been hoping to spend the first evening alone in his new digs, he grudgingly admitted that it was nice to know he was missed.

“That dog looks like he’s ready to meet his maker in hound heaven.” Will placed the deli containers on the kitchen table.

“Be nice to Hank. He’s older than Roger.”

“Is Roger taking retirement hard?”

“Yes.” Johnny changed the subject. “What’s new in your life?”

“Not much since we spoke twelve hours ago.” Will chuckled. “What are you gonna do now that you can’t boss us around?”

“Just because I’m living at the Triple D doesn’t mean I won’t be keeping tabs on all of you.”

Will’s expression sobered. “I can’t believe you’re the official foreman now.”

Neither could Johnny, but he was determined to impress Shannon’s father because he needed the job to work out. He hadn’t gone to college after graduating high school, and pecan farming wasn’t his real passion. He only competed in rodeos to bring in extra money. Working with horses and punching cows was his calling in life.

“Douglas treats his foreman dang good.” Will pointed to the fifty-two-inch TV. “Is he charging you rent to live here?”

“No, the furnished cabin comes with the job.”

The door opened and Hank rose from his bed ready to bolt. Johnny grabbed his collar. “Whoa, boy.” Worried the dog might escape he pushed the bed pillow across the floor and positioned it next to the couch, then tied the end of the leash to a sofa leg.

For the next half hour, the brothers drank beer and talked rodeo on the porch while the brats cooked. “Are you riding in Yuma tomorrow?” Conway asked.

The special event featured only bull riding and chuck wagon races. “I don’t think so.” But Johnny intended to watch Shannon compete. His big-brother instinct insisted he make sure she was okay after they’d... And there was a part of him, which had nothing to do with brotherly concern, that wanted to find out if the attraction was still there between them, or if what they’d shared two weeks ago had been a fluke.

“What about you?” Johnny asked Conway. His brother rode bulls on occasion but his preference was the saddle back competition.

“I’m heading to Tucson to visit a buddy.”

Buck removed the brats from the grill and set the plate on the porch rail while he toasted the buns. “If you get lonely living by yourself, you can always come back to the bunkhouse.”

Thanks, but no thanks. As far as bunkhouses went, the one on the farm wasn’t bad. They’d installed a bathroom and two window air-conditioning units kept the place cool. Mack had sweet-talked an old girlfriend into selling them a secondhand refrigerator for fifty bucks so there was always cold beer on hand. The place had all the creature comforts except privacy. “I’ve got it pretty good here,” Johnny said.

The matter of his residence resolved, the brothers dug into their food and swapped rodeo stories. Halfway through the meal, Porter brought Hank outside and they all took turns tossing scraps to the hound.

After the meal, Will pulled a deck of cards out of his pocket. “I’m calling the first game,” he said. “Acey deucey.”

Porter grabbed Hank’s leash and the brothers carried the leftover food inside. After the tenth hand of poker, it occurred to Johnny that even though he was ready to move on with his life, his brothers weren’t quite ready to cut the apron strings.

* * *

“HEY, CLIVE.” JOHNNY jogged across the dirt drive and walked into the barn with his boss early Saturday morning. “You plan to go to the rodeo in Yuma this afternoon?”

“Nope.”

Clive’s curt response startled Johnny. He’d expected his boss to want to see his daughter compete.

“I’d be happy to watch things here if you want to take the afternoon off.”

“Got too much work to do.” Clive pushed the wheelbarrow through the center of the barn and parked it next to Windjammer’s stall.

Fourteen days had passed since he and Shannon had made love and the knot in Johnny’s gut hadn’t unraveled. “Would you mind if I went to the rodeo?”

Clive grasped a pitchfork and flung clumps of soiled hay into the barrow. “You competing?”

After landing my dream job? “The last thing I need is an injury to prevent me from doing ranch chores.”

“Makes no difference to me what you do. You’re not officially on the clock till Monday morning.”

“Is there anything you want me to tell Shannon?”

The boss wiped his brow. “I don’t know what in tarnation I did to make that girl believe riding bulls is acceptable behavior for a lady.”

Johnny didn’t like the idea of Shannon riding bulls, either, but he felt compelled to defend her. “She’s darn good at the sport. It takes courage to do what she does. I’m sure she got that from you.”

“Only a matter of time before she gets hurt.” Clive spat tobacco juice into the soiled hay.

“I didn’t realize you disapproved of Shannon rodeoing.”

“I didn’t mind her keeping up with her brothers when she was a little tyke, but I never thought she’d take bull riding this far. I figured when she grew into a young woman she’d find other interests.”

Johnny wished he understood what drove Shannon to compete in the dangerous sport. Maybe the answer was as simple as she enjoyed the challenge. A lot of rodeo cowboys were adrenaline junkies who loved pitting themselves against a bull.

“What did you say to Dixie to convince her to quit riding bulls last summer?” Clive asked.

Evidently Shannon hadn’t told her father that Dixie had scratched the final Five Star Rodeo because she’d discovered she was pregnant. Not many people knew that Dixie had miscarried weeks later and Johnny was sure his sister did not want the news to become public knowledge. “Dixie sprained her ankle and couldn’t compete.” That was the lie his sister had used.

“Why didn’t she ride after her ankle healed?”

“She became too busy with her gift shop in Yuma.”

“Wish my daughter would find a new hobby.”

Hobby? Dixie’s Desert Delights was a reputable business that helped support Dixie and her husband.

“Maybe you can talk sense into my daughter.”

After their night at the Hacienda Motel, Johnny wasn’t sure Shannon cared to speak to him. He’d find out shortly. “If you’re sure you don’t mind, I’ll catch that rodeo in Yuma.”

“Makes no difference to me.”

“Roger was worried Hank would run off after he left, so I’ve kept him tied to the porch.” He’d given the hound plenty of leash and set extra water and food outside.

“I’ll check on him after I’m through here.”

“See you later.”

Before he reached the barn doors, Clive called his name. “Johnny.”

“What?”

“Tell Shannon—” his boss struggled to speak “—to be careful.”

“Will do.” Johnny jogged to his truck, his chest tightening with anticipation and dread.

* * *

THE OUTDOOR ARENA for the Yuma Rodeo Days Ride-off was packed to the gills. Despite the hundred-plus temperature, Shannon smiled for the cameras and signed autographs for young girls who dreamed of becoming lady bull riders. For the past three hours she’d manned the Dynasty Boots booth, waiting for C.J. to take her place. She guessed he’d snuck off—most likely to a horse stall in the livestock barn—with another ditzy buckle bunny. At least he wasn’t flirting with women out in the open.

Her sweat-soaked clothes chafed her but the only thing she cared about was winning and evening up the score with C.J., who remained one win ahead. After today’s ride, they had a break from competition for two weeks before they traveled to Winslow to compete.

Shannon planned to use the time off to help her father with ranch chores, but that had been before she’d had sex with Johnny. Seeing the cowboy every day and not being able to do anything about her attraction to him would be tougher than riding a rank bull.

“My name’s Jenny. Can I have your autograph?” A freckle-faced girl held out a rodeo program.

“You wanna be a cowgirl when you grow up?” Shannon scribbled her name across the cover.

“No, I wanna be like her.”

Shannon glanced in the direction the girl pointed and saw C.J. talking to the Yuma Rodeo Days Ride-off queen. The rodeo queen wore fancy boots and a red Western shirt with more rhinestones than stars in the galaxy.

A tug on the program in her hand startled her. “Sorry. Have fun today, Jenny.” No sooner had the girl moseyed along than Shannon caught sight of Johnny Cash. She sucked in a quiet breath. Dressed from head to toe in black, he represented his namesake and drew the stares of several women as he walked toward her, his hips rolling from side to side in a confident swagger.

“Hello, Johnny.” She resisted pressing her hand against her thudding heart.

His black Stetson dipped. “How’ve you been?”

That was a loaded question. “Great. I hear you’re working for my father.”

His gaze locked on the table of programs next to her. “Guess I forgot to mention that.”

“Are you settled in at the ranch?”

“Yep.” He looked her in the eye. “Your father said to be careful.”

“Let me guess. He was too busy with the ranch to come today.”

Johnny nodded. “He’s worried you’ll injure yourself.”

She didn’t want to discuss her father. “Are you competing?”

“Heck, no.” This time his smile was genuine. “I don’t want to screw up my gig at the Triple D.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” she said. “My father can be a demanding man. That’s why my brothers traded in their saddles for a library full of law books.”

“You ready for today?” he asked.

“Of course.” She was always ready—riding bulls was a part of who she was. She checked the time on her cell phone. “I better get going.” It was crazy, but instead of making her feel ill at ease, Johnny’s presence quieted her jumpy nerves. “Walk with me?”

“Sure.”

They strolled through the crowd in silence, Johnny’s shoulder bumping hers once—the contact triggering an electric charge, which traveled down her arm and through her fingertips. When they reached the cowboy ready area, he pulled her aside. “What’s the matter?”

“What do you mean?”

“You kept looking over your shoulder the whole way here.”

“I’m fine.” Shannon saw C.J. and stiffened.

“Did you two...get back together?” Johnny’s blue gaze intensified. Did her answer matter to him?

“No, we’re through.”

“Does Dynasty Boots know about the breakup?” he asked.

“No, and we’re not planning to tell them.” She wished she knew if it bothered him that she and C.J. were pretending to be a couple.

“What bull did you draw?” he asked.

“Heat Miser.”

“Heat Miser’s a twenty-three-point bull.” Left unsaid was the animal’s reputation for turning on fallen riders.

Shannon was the first to admit the bull made her nervous, but a draw was a draw and her sponsor paid her to play the game with the big boys. C.J. had drawn Mr. Gigolo, a twenty-one-point bull known for running toward the exit after throwing his rider.

Shannon unzipped her bag and put on her gear.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we’re ready to kick off our bull riding event.” The announcer’s voice boomed over the sound system.

“Don’t look now but Rodriguez is heading this way,” Johnny said.

When C.J. noticed Johnny, he glared. “What are you doing here, Cash?”

“Making sure you mind your manners.”

A cowboy standing nearby snickered and C.J. snapped at Shannon, “You’re going down, Douglas.”

“Is that any way to talk to your girlfriend?” Johnny asked.

C.J. flashed a smug grin.

“Don’t let Rodriguez get to you.” Johnny grasped Shannon’s shoulders. “You’ve got to keep your head on straight with this bull.”

“You’re right.”

“Ready?”

Whether she was or not didn’t matter. It was showtime.

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