Last of the Red-Hot Heroes Page 5

  Harper nodded. “I did say that. I also believe that sometimes dreams change. And I’m strong enough to admit that, too.”

  “Your dream changed because you stole mine.”

  Judy sounded so hurt Harper knew she believed—had convinced herself—that this was true.

  “And the thing I can’t forgive about that,” Judy continued, pulling herself up to her full height as her wrath intensified, “is you did it when I was down. When I was having chemo treatments in Austin.”

  “You believe that?”

  “I know it. And I know you did it because you chickened out. So I have to ask myself, did you achieve your goal, that goal you told me when you convinced me to take you on? To be a strong woman, a mother Michael would be proud of? Who stood in the face of her family’s disapproval and made something of herself on her own, because she wanted and loved her son that much?”

  “Judy, I didn’t take over the team because I needed something to do. You’re implying I needed an excuse to run away from my dream. It’s just not true.” Harper refused to let even a bit of doubt crowd out the idea of succeeding with the new team. “The team was in the red under you, Judy. We hadn’t been paid. And you disappeared. No one knew what was going on. We got vague details from Ivy, and those were secretive and sketchy at best.”

  “I wouldn’t have left if I hadn’t known my team was in the very best of hands.”

  “Whose hands?” Harper sincerely wondered.

  “Your own,” Judy said. “You and Ava and Cameron had bonded, trained hard. Not to mention that the Outlaws were keeping a tight eye on your progress.”

  “And some say that was exactly your plan all along.” She could hear her horse, Trixie, a few stalls down, blow out a breath, no doubt ready for a good workout. Suddenly, Harper was, too. Anything but stand here and listen to Judy throw out what she thought were truths.

  They weren’t truths—not in any way, shape or form.

  “Let me just say this in parting, Harper. You have the guts, you have the desire burning inside you.”

  “Maybe,” Harper said, “but Judy, I can be successful with this team. We can bring just as much glory to Hell with a trick riding team as with female bullfighters.”

  “Hell would be the first to have a team, and maybe a school, for women doing the hardest sports. Bringing other women to this town is long overdue.”

  Harper couldn’t disagree with that. In a small town of two hundred, mostly men, Hell was a rough-and-tumble place. Did she want to go back to training for bullfighting? Was Judy right: that she was running away from her dream?

  “Even if you decide to continue on this path with a team of trick riders, you’re going to need me.” Judy walked from the barn. “You just think about all the trouble you girls got up to, and then you decide if you really think you can manage a team and raise a young child all by yourself.”

  “I have Ava and Cameron to help!” Harper called after her. She walked after Judy, determined to see her to her truck. Courtesies could still be part of even the most contentious conversation.

  “And I ask you, what do any of you really know about discipline? You brought on the wildest, toughest girls you could probably find.” Judy smiled. “They’re testing you more than you know.”

  “I’ll get them in hand. We’ve barely been together two weeks.”

  “You need me,” Judy said. “And Hell needs to grow. Pride is one of the seven deadly sins, you know.”

  She got in what she called her big-ass truck and drove away. Harper stared after her former mentor. “And that’s what’s known as awkward.”

  Really awkward. Judy felt like she’d been pushed aside, when Harper’s intention—backed by Ava and Cameron—had been to rescue what was a failing operation. But she also understood Judy’s feelings, when she looked at the situation objectively. No one ever liked to lose what they felt like they’d created.

  Declan’s truck pulled up to the barn. He rolled down a window. “Your team is up at Redfeather's waiting on you.”

  “I know. I’m running late.”

  “Saw the mayor’s big-ass truck hauling out of the Training Center.”

  “She left on an unhappy note.”

  “Hop in. I’ll give you a ride to Redfeather's.”

  She gazed at him, temptation in a Stetson, a sexy smile luring her—maybe more than he realized. “My truck is here—“

  “Yeah, but I’m feeling like a knight in shining armor at the moment. I don’t get many of these urges to be a knight, so humor me.”

  This coming from a decorated vet. Not to mention a scrumptious male who kept her thoughts on him more and more all the time.

  “Besides which, maybe it’s my turn to rescue you,” he said. “Just returning the favor is all.”

  She didn’t need to be rescued, of course. She started to tell him to take his savior complex on down the road, thanks—then remembered Judy’s random advice that pride was one of the seven deadly sins.

  Who was she kidding? It was just a ride, nothing more.

  Hardly a march to the altar.

  She got in his truck.

  Chapter Five

  “I don’t like this new setup, I won’t lie,” Declan said, cruising into town, ridiculously happy now that he had Harper in his truck. “You and your team off by yourselves, us in the old booth. Doesn’t seem right. Feels like a division in Hell. And you know how we feel about division. We prefer to live in each other’s business every minute of every day.”

  Harper smiled, and it made him happier than it should have that he’d brought a smile to her pretty face.

  “There isn’t room for all of us in the old booth. You know that very well, Declan.”

  “Yeah. But it leaves me being the plus-one for two happily-married couples.”

  “I doubt you’re too worried about it.”

  “You’d be surprised how boring it is listening to them go over their marital lives. And it’s really unappealing when they sweet-talk, which is all the time.” He smirked, a proud instrument in his buddies’ downfalls.

  She wasn’t buying his complaints. Ava and Trace were pretty lively, even though they’d recently had their first child. And no one would ever accuse Cameron and Saint of being boring—and Judy and Steel, though unmarried, provided enough gossip and angst for a Hollywood movie script of their own. “If you’re angling for an invite over to our table so that you can relinquish third-wheel status, come on over,” she said.

  “I’ll take you up on that offer.” Of course he’d been trying to get into her booth in the most casual way possible. But something had Harper down. She would never have relented otherwise. That was “team” time, sacred in the bonding process with her girls, as far as Harper was concerned.

  No doubt it had something to do with Mayor Judy.

  “So what had the mayor in a twist?”

  “Judy’s not happy unless she’s in a twist,” Harper replied, a little more glibly than he wanted. “You know that. It was nothing, really.”

  He parked outside of Redfeather's. “You’ll probably tell me eventually.”

  “Maybe.”

  They got out of the truck and went inside Redfeather's. Declan instantly felt himself relax. This was home-away-from-home, the place he and Trace and Saint had remembered fondly and discussed often when they were deployed overseas. There was nothing quite like the cracked old black leather circular booth they gathered in at night to enjoy Stephen Redfeather’s questionable cooking and talk over the events of the day. Camaraderie—that’s what this booth represented.

  With some dismay, Declan realized Jack Turner was already ensconced in the circular booth Harper had appropriated for her team, along with little Michael, who Jack had clearly picked up from sports team practice. Harper went flying to greet her son, leaving Declan to awkwardly consider in which booth he cared to enjoy plus-one status this evening.

  “Jack,” he said, shaking the vet’s hand. As neighboring landowners, they shared property bo
undaries, but more than that, they had a friendship that went back years before Declan had even bought his property.

  “Declan.” Jack grinned at him. “Quite some rain we had, wasn’t it?”

  “A gullywasher,” Declan agreed, watching Harper slide into the booth next to her son, hugging him and kissing the top of his head as she eagerly inquired about his day.

  “I seem to have given up a dog once again,” Jack observed.

  Declan nodded. “Gypsy brought herself to my house, as is her custom, sopping wet and delighted to share her mud and eau de collie. Last I saw her, she was comfortably nestled at the foot of my bed.”

  “Send her on whenever you’re tired of her.” Jack laughed. “I don’t know why that dog does that. She has plenty of warm, cozy spots at my house, has run of the place.”

  “Ah, but you see,” Declan said, “you’re at work. It’s the herding instinct that Gypsy operates on. Once she sees my truck pull up the drive, she knows she’s found someone to shepherd.” Gypsy was his dog now, and they both knew it—but Jack liked to act as if she was still one of his many companions. He ruffled Michael’s hair fondly. “Hey, big guy. I hear you’ve joined a soccer team over in Hawk.”

  Michael nodded. “It’s fun.” He looked up at Declan with huge eyes. “Can I see Gypsy sometime?”

  “You can see Gypsy anytime.”

  Michael’s gaze went to Jack for a moment. “Can I?”

  “Of course you can.” Jack nodded, and Declan’s heart sank a bit as he recognized that his friend genuinely cared about the boy. He glanced at Harper to see if she noticed the bond between her son and the big, gentle vet—but curiously, Declan caught her gaze on him instead.

  “Aren’t you going to sit down?” she asked Declan.

  “Actually, I’m going to join the uglies over here.” Declan couldn’t have said why he felt out of place, but he did. Later on he’d examine that unexpected emotion.

  Harper’s team piled into the booth in a noisy froth of high energy, sparing him any further explanation. Declan slung himself into the familiar spot with Trace and Saint, faintly disgruntled by the seating chart.

  Which was stupid. With the lively trio of Winter, Cassidy and Micaela giggling with youthful mischief, it wasn’t like he’d have a chance to get to know Harper better.

  And why he suddenly was driven by a burning urge to get to know her a whole lot better than he did, he couldn’t have said.

  “What’s on the menu tonight, brothers?” Declan asked.

  “It’s not hot blonde for you, that’s for sure,” Trace observed.

  Declan’s gaze went to Trace. “Are you trying to make some kind of point?”

  “Just merely stating the obvious. You dragged your feet too long,” Trace said.

  “Dragged his feet?” Saint grinned over his menu, though they all knew looking at a menu was just another routine that meant nothing in Hell. Stephen served you what he wanted to—and you ate it without voicing complaint to the tall, inscrutable Native American. And frankly, that was part of the comforting routine of Redfeather's, too. “Hell, he didn’t just drag his feet, he was going backwards.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Declan said, though he knew perfectly well. “Anyway, do we have any clue about the special of the day?”

  “Smells like burgers,” Trace said, “which I’m really in the mood for. I really hope it’s a burger of an identifiable meat.”

  Hattie Hawthorne’s cooking over at the Rolling Thunder Café was the opposite of Stephen’s. Hattie’s delicious food was special occasion, for that perfect meal or delicious baked treat, when one’s stomach could no longer handle living on Stephen’s cooking. Her sunny, comfortable café drew a good tourist trade in from the surrounding towns, and so they avoided that, too. Here they could have a beer in the darkened atmosphere with cue balls snicking gently in the background, put their elbows on the table if they wished, watch a game on the big screen TV if they cared to, and kick back like they were in their own living rooms.

  This was home.

  “Where are the wives?” Declan asked. “Or are you two in the doghouses?”

  “The wives have gone to Hawk to have a meeting with the preschool teaching staff,” Trace said.

  This surprised Declan, though admittedly he was no expert on kids. “Is it time for that yet? When do kids start school?”

  “Our school isn’t built here yet, though we’ve saved the funds. Cameron and Ava want to get some ideas on setting up classrooms for younger students. Early education is important,” Trace said, clearly parroting his wife’s words.

  “And Cameron wanted to discuss the equestrian center for special needs riders she’s having drawn up.” He looked pleased. “You know, Cameron always says Ivy’s place is the perfect location for her center. All Ivy’s needs is a good razing, Cameron says.” He looked so proud of his wife, still so enchanted by her that he had to brag.

  “My, how the mighty have fallen.” Declan laughed. “Just a few years ago we were sitting in a place where we had to keep an eye out for snakes and scorpions and snipers, and now we’re talking stuffed animals and Dr. Seuss.”

  “We are,” Saint said, “You’re not.”

  “You don’t have a child yet,” Declan said.

  “But we’re expecting to be expecting,” Saint said, grinning.

  “That’s awesome! Congratulations!” He high-fived Saint, and then Trace for good measure. Then he hesitated. “What does expecting to be expecting mean?”

  “It means he’s practicing hard but hasn’t hit the bull’s-eye yet,” Trace said, smirking.

  “Hey,” Harper said, leaning over the top of the booth to peer at them. “What’s all the commotion?”

  “Nothing.” Declan took in her bright eyes and happy, flushed face, his heart sinking a bit that she looked that way when the big vet was around. It was just his luck, right? Jack gets the girl, and I get Jack’s dog? “These losers are discussing crayons and diapers.”

  “Oh.” She looked at Saint and Trace. “Have fun with that.”

  She slid back down next to Jack, disappearing from view.

  Declan slowly met his friends’ gazes. “What?”

  “What’s really slow and doesn’t seem to know it?” Saint asked.

  “Enough,” Declan said, knowing full well that the answer to the riddle was going to be himself.

  Stephen put three plates down in front of the men, his long pipe dangling from his right hand. His dark braid was twisted with a piece of leather that almost matched his skin.

  “Hi, Stephen,” Declan said, as his friends said the same.

  Stephen nodded. “Eli was in today.”

  Eli was the town homeless vet, homeless by choice because Hell had tried several different ways to give him a place he wanted to call his own. He couldn’t get over the days in “‘Nam,” though, and preferred to sleep in the open, or in someone’s truck bed. Truck beds served as his transportation method for distances, and at this point, people just accepted that Eli was sometimes going to hitch a silent ride. But Hell had a budget set aside just for Eli, so that when he came to Stephen’s or Hattie’s, he could be served a meal that was compensated from the city coffers. They also picked up his medical services whenever he went to see Dr. Anne Chandler, though that wasn’t often.

  “You fed him?” Declan asked.

  Stephen nodded. “But he has a loose tooth he doesn’t want anyone to know about.” He shrugged. “Don’t know how it happened.”

  This wasn’t good. It had to be painful. “Did you ask him about it?”

  “If I ask questions, he’ll leave without eating.” Stephen shrugged. “Our relationship works better if I simply observe.”

  Stephen’s observations were a lot better than conversation, anyway. Eli wasn’t much for talking. “Thanks. We’ll look into it.”

  “Front tooth,” Stephen said, drifting off. “Not good for eating.”

  Declan studied his plate, not recognizing t
he gastronomic offering. “Any guesses?”

  Saint nodded. “Raccoon meat loaf. At least that’s what it looks like.”

  “No,” Trace said, gingerly tasting it. “I think, fellows, we’re being served toad patties for the first time in our lives.”

  “Taste like chicken?” Declan asked Trace, watching him finish the forkful with a wry expression.

  “Not chicken, exactly. I’d call it more toad patty, fresh off the pavement.”

  “Great.” Declan dug in, too hungry to care. “Not bad.”

  “Bull.” Saint laughed.

  “I meant not as bad as an MRE in Iraq or Afghanistan,” Declan said, holding up a forkful. “Bon appetit.”

  Mayor Judy and Sheriff Steel Durant slid in next to them, knocking the solemn edge off the group with Judy’s big, blond persona and Steel’s more stoic, measured and familiar presence.

  “Looks delicious! Sorry we’re late,” Judy said.

  “Wondered where you were,” Declan said. “Sorry we didn’t wait on you. Stephen must have figured you weren’t coming.”

  “I’d run out to Ivy’s,” Judy said. “And my sheriff here was overseeing a couple of young, overly-indulged gentlemen from Dallas. They’re now cooling off at the jail very nicely.” She beamed. “And you’ll be proud to know that his deputies are coming along very nicely.”

  “Frick and Frack?” Declan asked. “How can they come along nicely? They’ve barely left the nest.”

  “Cameron deciding to do ride-alongs with us while she attends academy seems to be stirring my deputies to some kind of competitive energy.” Steel laughed. “I wish I’d known that all it would take to make those lunkheads focus was the idea that a beautiful redhead might make sheriff before they do.”

  Declan looked at Saint. “I thought you said you were expecting to expect a baby.”

  “We are,” Saint said, “just as soon as I can get my wife to understand how badly I’m itching to be a family man.”