Cowboy Fever (22 page)

Back home, the river rock shower felt like a sanctuary as Teague washed off the dirt, the blood, and the memories he'd spilled in the struggle with Cal. He closed his eyes and let the water pelt his skin, cranking it as hot as he could stand it. Once he'd dried off and dressed, he strolled out to check on Rocket. He needed a few minutes with the big horse, a short conversation with the ultimate reality to ground himself.

“Rocky.” He rested his arms on the top rail of the fence. The horse turned, eyed him a moment, then walked over for a visit, taking his sweet time getting there. “I did okay, Rocky. I didn't kill him. Guess we're both tamed now.” The horse shoved his head over the top rail of the fence and Teague rested his forehead against his long muzzle. “Feels good, doesn't it?”

It did. It felt good knowing he could trust himself—that he could hold it together and act like a rational human, instead of attacking like an animal. Now if he could just convince the rest of the town he'd changed, he'd have peace. If he could convince Jodi's mother, he'd have everything.

Because changing wasn't enough. He didn't believe in living his life to earn anyone else's approval—that was Jodi's way. But he wouldn't be truly free of the Treadwell curse until he changed his reputation. If Courtney already knew how “disreputable” he was, everyone in town must know—including the parents of Jodi's clients. They wouldn't want to trust their children to someone like that
.
Russell's father hadn't minded—but then, Ben was pretty disreputable himself.

Russell.
Shoot. He'd forgotten the kid had another session today. He'd promised to be there.

He needed to get over to Jodi's.

He felt a little spasm of joy squeeze his heart at the prospect. It wasn't all about Jodi this time; he was looking forward to seeing Russell too. The kid didn't know or care about Teague's past. All he saw was a genuine cowboy—someone to look up to. The admiration in his eyes had done Teague more good than any of Courtney's winks and nudges.

He squinted as a glint of light caught his eyes. Another vehicle was turning into the drive—a big diesel pickup with some kind of writing on the side.

Shit. It was probably the sheriff. Maybe he'd hurt Cal worse than he'd thought. Or maybe the idiot had gone and filed charges. They wouldn't stick, but everyone would think Teague had gone and lost it again, solving his troubles with his fists just like his father, and his victory over the ghosts of his past would gain him nothing.

Except peace. He felt stronger inside—the kind of strength he'd been looking for all his life. He used to try to find it by fighting, but it never went clear to his bones before. Now he felt like he could tackle anything without losing control.

He stepped off the porch as the vehicle pulled to a stop. That wasn't the sheriff's county crest on the side; it was a prancing horse, framed by the words “Skelton Polo Center.” The driver's door opened and Courtney Skelton slid to the ground.

Shit.

Jodi was right. The girl was after him. That Sting song started running through his head.
Every move you make, every step you take, I'll be watching you.

Yep. Courtney was a solid gold stalker.

“Hi, Teague!” She put a little skip in her step and her breasts bounced beneath her tight shirt.

“Hey,” he said, pinning his gaze to her face. If she thought he was eying her boobs, she'd think she had a chance with him. Although judging from her behavior this morning, she'd been pretty mad about last night. He'd thought she was through with him.

She simpered and stepped in close so her breast brushed his arm. “So what are you doing this afternoon?”

So much for being through with him. She was back to her old ways.

Luckily, he had plans, so she couldn't hijack him and try to subject him to more of her jiggling and sex-starved sideways glances.

“I'm helping Jodi,” he said. “Hey, I thought you were too.”

“No, I'm done.” Courtney tossed her hair and a fleeting hint of anger crossed her face. “She told me to go. Guess she doesn't really need any help.”

“Yeah, she does,” Teague said. “She's starting that business all by herself. It's a lot of work.”

“Yeah, and then there's the baby,” Courtney said.

Teague's heart sank into his stomach. “You know about that?” He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked off toward the horizon. He didn't want to talk about Jodi with Courtney. It seemed wrong somehow.

“I heard she was shopping for prenatal vitamins at the drugstore. And she sure looks pregnant.”

“She does?” Teague didn't think Jodi looked pregnant. She looked the same as always. “No she doesn't. She's still—well, she's still just fine.”

“You're a man. You wouldn't know.” Courtney tossed her hair as if to demonstrate the superiority of women. “She's glowing.”

“Glowing?” Teague remembered how Jodi had looked the night before. She'd been glowing, all right. He'd thought it was something he'd done, but maybe not.

Courtney's voice interrupted the memory. “So what are you going to do?”

“Whatever I can.”

She barked out a laugh that sounded a like Honeybucket yipping. “Well, good luck. I doubt the Treadwell name is something she wants painted on her mailbox, though. Not if she's going to be trusted with other people's kids.”

Courtney was only echoing his own thoughts, but her words sank into his gut like a dose of lead. Sometimes he managed to convince himself that he could overcome his past, but Courtney was right. In a town this small, the past was inescapable.

“I guess that's up to Jodi,” he said.

Courtney thrust her lower lip out in a little-girl pout.

“Well, I guess I'll just go home then. Maybe I'll go see Gustaldo.” She slanted a narrow-eyed glance his way, as if gauging his reaction.

“Whatever,” he said.

“Aren't you going to tell me to be careful?” she asked. “You were all concerned about Jodi and Gustaldo last night.”

He shrugged. “I figure you can hold your own.”

“Oh. I see,” she said. She stuck out her chest and set her fists on her hips. “Just be careful over at Jodi's. You have a habit of leading girls on, making them think you care.” She stalked toward her car, then turned as she opened the door. “Not that anyone expects anything of you. You're a Treadwell, after all.” She tossed her hair and climbed into the car. “We all know what
that
means.”

Russell was already mounted by the time Teague arrived, but they hadn't started the lesson. The kid's face brightened when he spotted Teague approaching the arena.

“Teague!” he said. “I thought you forgot!”

“No way, buddy,” Teague said. He opened the gate and stepped into the arena, then stopped in his tracks and turned to Jodi. “You're using Vegas,” he said.

She nodded. “Yup. I thought you'd want Russell to be the first one to ride him. They're doing great.” She gave him a worried look. “Everything all right at Cissy's?”

“Everything's fine. I'll tell you later.”

“Fine? Are you sure?” She looked worried, and a little wary, as if she was afraid of what he might have done. Dang. He'd always felt like Jodi was the one person who believed in him, but even she didn't think he could deal with a situation without hurting somebody.

“I'm sure.” He stepped up and took the lead rope from Ben. “Cal won't be bothering Cissy again.” Looking up at Russell perched atop his old horse's narrow back, he rubbed his eyes, telling himself it must be the dust from the arena's soft dirt footing that made them blur.

“Hey, Vegas,” he said, patting the horse's neck. “Good boy.”

“Hope you don't mind me riding your old horse,” Russell said. “I bet you had all kinds of adventures on him, right?”

“Oh, yeah,” Teague said. “I'll tell you about them later, okay? Right now I think we'd better get down to business.”

“Okay,” Russell said. “Maybe you could tell me sometime, though.”

“Sure,” Teague said. “Sure.”

Jodi put them through their paces, repeating the lesson from the day before and adding a few more elements—Nerf basketball, and the game with the numbered cards. Russell didn't have any problems with the game itself, but it was clear to Teague that his muscles got fatigued after only a few rounds of the arena. Twice he started to slide sideways and his father had to grab the belt and pull him upright.

“That's okay,” Jodi said. “You keep doing your exercises, and you'll get stronger.”

“I've been doing them every day,” Russell said. “Haven't I, Dad?”

Ben grunted in assent. “Yup.”

“Keep it up, and we'll get you trotting,” Jodi said.

“I know. That's what I think about when I do the exercises.” Russell beamed down at Teague. “Jodi said once I'm strong enough, we can trot, and maybe even go on a real trail ride outside the arena.”

“Great. Can I come?”

“Sure.” Russell's expression grew serious. “I'd want you to, in case we ran into any snakes or anything.”

“Or the Wild Bunch,” Teague said. “I've heard they don't take kindly to their members defecting.”

“That's right. They're gunnin' for me,” Russell said. “But I'm ready for 'em. Nothing scares me.”

Teague looked back at the slim boy perched high on the horse, his wasted legs shaking slightly with the effort of staying upright.

“I'd say that's true,” Teague said.

***

An hour later, Jodi stacked a third scoop of Ben & Jerry's Dulce Delish onto a sugar cone and handed it to Teague.

“So tell me about Cal.” She shook another cone out of the package and exchanged the Dulce Delish for a tub of Crème Brulée flavor. Scooping ice cream gave her an excuse to keep her back turned to Teague so he couldn't see how worried she was. Sure, he'd said everything went fine—but what exactly did it mean when he said Cal wouldn't be bothering Cissy again? Had he hurt him? And more important, how hard had it been for Teague himself, going back to that trailer? Dealing with Cal had to remind him of his father. He had to be hurting.

He was quiet so long she finally turned to face him. “Well? What happened?”

“He left.”

Jodi topped off her cone and pulled out the chair across from him. “Well, no kidding.” She gave her cone a lick. “I didn't think you left him there. What happened?”

Teague shrugged. “I told him Cissy was going to get a restraining order.”

“That's it?”

Suddenly, his ice cream demanded all his attention. “This is good,” he said.

“Teague?”

“What?” He shifted his gaze sideways, looking at the clock.

“Tell me what happened. Somehow, I doubt you walked in and reasoned with Cal and he walked away.”

“Why do you doubt that?” He looked up from his cone, his eyes hard.

“Because…” She waved her cone helplessly. “Because I know you.”

“Right. And so you figure I probably beat him up and left him for dead.”

“No.” She grimaced. “Well, it did seem like a possibility.” She gave him a shaky smile. He didn't smile back.

“But you didn't,” she continued. “But…” She leaned forward and ran her finger along a bruise just below the sleeve of his T-shirt.

“We fell down the steps.”

“Right.” She hesitated, frowning down at the bruise. His mother used to say she'd fallen down the steps when she'd ended up bruised and battered. She couldn't help wondering how many bruises Cal had.

Teague shoved his chair back from the table, slamming it into the wall, and pitched what was left of his cone in the garbage.

“I had to haul him out of there, okay?” He rested his fists on the table and loomed over her. “He was already inside when I got there. I dragged him out of the place and we stumbled on the steps. Then he got up and he drove away.”

She brought a hand to her chest. “Okay. Thanks. I'm just—I'm worried about you. It must have been really hard, going back there and reliving all that.”

His eyes were still cold and hard. “Well, I sure as hell don't want to relive it all now. Besides, it was fine.”

“Teague, it couldn't have been fine. It had to be a real test.”

“Is that what it was? A test?” He scowled. “Did I pass?”

“Teague, I didn't mean that. I just meant—it must have been hard. I thought you might want to talk about it.”

For a moment, he dropped his guard and let the pain show in his eyes as he sank back into the chair. “Look, I'm sorry. I'm not a touchy-feely, talky person, okay? I'll deal with it.”

“I just want to help, Teague.”

“I know. Don't worry, though.” The mask dropped back into place as he got back to his feet. “I need to get home. See what Troy's up to.”

He swung out the door and she followed him to the porch, but he didn't say another word—just jogged out to the truck and took off like he couldn't get away from her fast enough.

Evidently he'd dealt with Cal just fine. But going back there, seeing and hearing so many things that must have reminded him of the bad old days, had shut something down in him—closed a door. And he wasn't about to let her in.

He'd only dropped his guard for an instant, letting her see the pain in his eyes, and in that moment, she'd seen a flash of the real Teague—wounded and damaged but always strong, even when it made the pain worse to keep it inside. She wanted to be there for him. She wanted to hold him all night, every night, and erase all the damage his parents had done.

But she'd made that promise…

A jaunty tune broke the day's hot sleepy silence and she fished her phone out of her pocket. She normally didn't leave it on during sessions, but she'd been prepared for a call from Cissy, a call from Teague, or even a call from the sheriff while he was gone.

“Hello?”

“It's Cissy.”

“Cissy.” Jodi sank down on the porch swing. “Are you okay? Is everything all right?”

“I'm fine. Jodi, you should have seen Teague.”

“What happened?”

“Well, Cal got inside right after I called you—I hadn't set the deadbolt, I'm an idiot—and Teague just walked in and dragged him out.”

“Did he hit him?”

“No. He was so—so
controlled
. Like it was just business. He got Cal out of the trailer and next thing I knew that skunk of an ex-husband was driving away.”

“That's great.” Jodi looked up as Luna trotted up onto the porch and sat down, resting her chin on the swing beside Jodi's thigh. She must have come with Teague, and he'd been in such a hurry to go he'd left her behind. “So Teague didn't hit him? Didn't lose it?”

“No. Not a bit.”

“Good. He was over here, and I asked, but he didn't seem to want to talk about it. I was afraid something happened.”

“Nothing bad,” Cissy assured her. “The sheriff himself couldn't have done better.”

“Good. Thanks for letting me know.”

“People ought to see now what a good man he is,” Cissy said.

“Yeah,” Jodi said. “You're right. If he can handle that situation, he can handle anything.”

The two of them said their good-byes and Jodi clicked her phone shut. She breathed a sigh of relief and looked down at Luna.

“Maybe we need to spread the word, huh, girl?” She stroked the dog's head. “Maybe if people knew how well he handled that, they'd realize how much he's changed.” She stood and the dog leapt to her feet, trotting anxiously to the edge of the porch and gazing back at Jodi. “I know, girl, you want to go home. But I have something to do first.” She brushed the dust from the arena off her jeans. “I need to talk to my mom.”

***

Jodi walked into the boutique to see her mother standing in front of the three-way mirror, bouncing and swaying in a red wool dress that appeared to be decorated with hundreds of shiny silver bells that jangled with every move. Lost in her own world, she didn't hear Jodi enter. She stamped her feet, spun in a circle, then stopped dead, arms outspread, when she caught sight of her daughter standing by the counter.

“Oh,” she said. “Hello.” She turned back to the mirror and rolled her shoulders, pretending to fuss with the fit of the dress.

“Mom, I saw you.” Jodi laughed. “You were totally dancing. What the heck is that, anyway?”

“It's an authentic reproduction of a Native American jingle dress,” her mother said. “The jingles are made from the tops of chewing tobacco cans, rolled to make bells. See?” She held out one of the bells for Jodi to look at. Sure enough, the word “Skoal” was embossed on the metal.

“Cool,” Jodi said. “Looks expensive.”

“It is,” her mother said. Setting a hand on her hip and placing one foot in front of the other, she put the other hand behind her head and sucked in her cheeks, giving her best supermodel imitation. “How do I look?”

“Fabulous.”

“I know.” She sighed. “Guess I'd better take it off and put it on display.” She waltzed behind the dressing room curtain, jingling all the way.

“What's going on?” she said from behind the curtain. Her arm thrust out of the dressing room with the dress hooked on one finger. Jodi grabbed the dress and glanced around for a hanger.

“Well, first, I'm sorry I couldn't work today. You been busy?”

“Nothing I couldn't handle. You?”

“Yeah. I had three clients. That's not many for a Saturday, but it's a start. I just wish my busiest day wasn't the same as yours.”

“It's okay. I've done it on my own up to now. Guess I can manage.” Her mother popped out of the dressing room, dressed in her version of normal: a fringed buckskin skirt that fell to mid-calf, a matching beaded vest, a red turtleneck, and soft deerskin boots fashioned cowboy-style but soft enough to bunch at the ankles.

“Is that all you came to tell me? You have that look.”

“What look?” Jodi quickly rearranged her face into a placid smile.

“That look like you're going to tell me something I don't want to hear. Or maybe you're going to talk me into something I don't want to do.”

Jodi sighed. “You're a mind reader.”

“No, if I was a mind reader, we wouldn't need to have this conversation we're about to have. Which I assume would be a good thing.”

“I guess.” Jodi thought a moment. “Actually, it's good news.”

“Oh.” Her mother sat down in the chair outside the dressing room. “Well, go ahead then.”

“Okay.” Jodi sat down in the matching chair beside her and crossed her legs. “It's about Teague.”

Her mother's facial expression dropped as if gravity had suddenly gone double strength, her dimpled smile transforming into a scowl.

“No, wait.” Jodi held up one hand. “Hear me out. I know you don't like him, and I know you're worried about his father. I mean, about how he might take after his father.”

“Pretty much everybody's worried about that,” her mother said. “And there's no ‘might' about it. His father was a batterer, and what do you know? Teague himself wound up in jail before he was even out of high school for a violent crime.”

“Mom, the violent crime was that he beat up a guy who was tormenting his brother. His
disabled
brother.”

“Beat him up? He almost killed the guy.”

“I know. I know.”

“And it wasn't the first time.”

“I know.” Jodi put her hands up, as if she could somehow smooth out the conversation. “But people grow and change, Mom. Let me tell you what happened today.” She described the call from Cissy, and explained how Teague had gone over there and taken care of Cal without violence. “Mom, if he can face that situation, right there where it used to happen to him…”

“It's a good sign, honey,” her mother said. “But just the fact that you're here tells me you think it's a real accomplishment for him. Honey, for most men, getting through the day without hitting somebody isn't a big deal.”

“You're twisting this around.” Jodi hopped to her feet and walked over to one of the circular racks of shirts and vests. Flicking the hangers left, then right, then left, she whisked the shirts back and forth to calm her agitation. “I know
you
think that's an accomplishment for him. I always knew he could do it.”