Ride A Cowboy: Romance Novel Read online

  And right now, he really wanted a drink. He wondered if this podunk town had good whiskey.

  CHAPTER 1

  Aja

  Aja Robinson worked at The Birdcage, a bar that sat on the fringe of Boyd county, far enough to appease the conservative city council, but convenient enough for truckers and farmers to stop on their lunch breaks. Boyd was a working town, make no mistake, and Aja Robinson was a working girl.

  The truckers mostly ignored her. That suited Aja just fine. She didn't like them getting too friendly, and she always had to watch her mouth when they did. Aja couldn't afford to get fired.

  That night there were no truckers, just the nightly regulars, salty old country men who still weren’t comfortable with the idea of someone like Aja serving them drinks. Aja did her rounds, making sure everyone's glass was topped up. She kept an eye on the tabs. She made banter with Cleaver, the chef. She texted her younger brother, Daniel, to make sure Gramps and the boys were doing okay at home. Mostly she watched football on the grainy bar tv, and eavesdropped. It was tough keeping herself entertained on the late shift, especially on a weeknight.

  "Steel Gray?"

  Again they were talking about the newcomer. Aja was already tired of hearing about him from her family, but she turned an ear to the conversation.

  "So he's Carson's cousin? Carson Tucker?" said Billy, a grizzled electrician, busy carving his initials into the table with a pocketknife.

  "That's right," said Steve. Steve was a Logan, from one of these old Boyd families that had been around just about as long as the Tuckers had. He did not like Carson Tucker, and really he couldn't see himself liking any kin of those Tucker snobs on the hill. He frowned into his Guinness.

  "Must be from the mother's side. Never heard Fiona talk about no Grays from Texas," continued Billy.

  "You seen 'im yet? Got the Tucker look about 'im," said Steve.

  "Tuckers was always a funny bunch," Billy conceded. " 'Steel'. Now that's a name."

  Aja went back to watching football. She'd heard enough about this mysterious stranger, and to be honest she was tired of it. Not that the local interest in him was anything unusual. Nothing ever happened in Boyd, so anything new naturally had to be gossiped about a hundred ways before the locals moved on to another subject.

  But all of them agreed on one thing. The military man bore an uncanny resemblance to a certain Sheriff Joe.

  This fact became immediately apparent to Aja when the bar doors swung open, and Steel Gray himself came striding up to the counter. He was in a good mood.

  Aja couldn't help but stare. He was tall- very tall. Muscular. His hands, when he placed them on the countertop, dwarfed hers. Aja found herself craning her neck to look him the eye.

  "Howdy," he said. Steel was surprised to see such a beauty working at a place like this. He wasn’t always so caught off guard by women, but this was a definite exception.

  "Well, hi," said Aja carefully. His manner surprised her. It wasn't the typical awkwardness of the local Boyd men, nor the arrogance of most strangers that saw her only as a potential bed wench.

  "Do you have any whiskey?"

  "Er- I'll start you a tab. Knob Creek?"

  "Sure."

  He didn't actually look like most Tuckers, though he had the size, and the hair. There was something in his face, a glint of something warmer than his name. He watched her with frank interest. It was a little intimidating.

  She poured his whiskey over ice and set it down on the counter. He swallowed it all at once. Then he looked her over, a small smile playing over his lips. It wasn't a sly smile, or a wicked smile. Just a smile.

  "So, Miss Robinson," said Steel. "Let's get to know each other."

  ***

  Steel enjoyed the surprised look on the bartender's face. In fact, he enjoyed the very sight of her. She was short. Her skin was a delicious velvet brown. She wore her hair natural, kept up in a bun. And she was plump, just like Steel liked his women. When he'd said her name, her lips came together in a surprised, kissable bow.

  "How do you know my name?"

  "I met your brother, Drew."

  Aja rolled her eyes. "I guess he told you all about me."

  Steel raised his hands in surrender. "He just came by for a visit."

  "I'm gonna wring his neck. I told him not to mess with that place."

  "It was alright," Steel said. "I don't mind the kid."

  "But some do," Aja muttered, beginning to turn away.

  "Well, I still don't know your first name," Steel cut in. "I'm Steel Gray."

  "I know who you are," the woman replied. Hell, thought Steel. Even her eyes were bewitching. "Call me Aja."

  Steel became aware that every ear in the bar was strained towards their conversation. He leaned in on his elbows. He felt content.

  "Can I get another whiskey, Aja?"

  She poured him another. He noticed that for all he was undressing her with his eyes, she was doing the same- she was just better at hiding it. She kept her tone light and easy.

  "So, Steel Gray. Everyone is curious about you."

  "Really? What for?"

  "Military man. Newcomer, related to those scary Tuckers," teased Aja. "A lot of questions there."

  "I'm an open book," Steel replied. He liked the way she spoke, with a little bit of attitude under that warm southern politeness.

  "How are you related to the Tuckers?" She asked.

  "Carson's my cousin."

  "Alright. What brings you to Boyd? Of all places?"

  "I like the quiet," said Steel simply. "That's all."

  She smirked. "Well, we got plenty of that here."

  "My turn," said Steel. "Can I buy you a drink?"

  Aja shook her head. Damn it, she was looking up through her eyelashes. He couldn’t tell a single thing from her expression. "Not on the clock, Steel Gray."

  "Okay, so next question.What's a beautiful woman like you stuck in Boyd for?"

  Aja did look out of place in the humble, greasy atmosphere of the Birdcage. She was wearing a modest black outfit that hugged her curves in all the right places. Her nails were immaculately done, her skin was smooth and deep sienna, and her eyes were wide, brown and alluring. Damn, thought Steel. She should be up on a stage somewhere. Or in his bed.

  Aja smiled to herself. Steel wondered if he should dial it back. He was very aggressively hitting on her.

  "Even beautiful women have responsibilities."

  "What do you do for fun?"

  "I guess whatever other people do 'round here. I take care of my brothers, my grandpa, I go to work. Can't really drive. No license, no car. Livin' is a full-time job."

  He thought, or maybe imagined, a note of bitterness in her voice. Aja was a beautiful bird in a beautiful cage. But there was a fiery streak to her, Steel could tell.

  "Is the old man a handful?"

  "Sometimes," admitted Aja. "His mind comes and goes. He's got a good memory, when he can find it."

  Steel glanced around the bar. The Birdcage was small, but cozy. There were a lot of pictures hanging on the walls: men holding fish, the local baseball team, the owners, that kind of thing. Hunched-over men drinking in the corner. It all seemed vaguely familiar, and Steel guessed this kind of place existed all across America. He'd probably been in a hundred bars like this one, before the military, back in his wilder days. He wished he could remember if he'd felt the same way he did now- peaceful.

  Voices raised in the corner. Steel turned to see an old, grizzled farmer stamping up to the bar. The man laid a heavy hand on Steel's shoulder.

  "City boy. You play cards?"

  Steel looked quizzically at Aja, who shrugged.

  "Yeah, I do."

  "We need an impartial eye. Come here."

  Steel followed the man to the back table - and so did Aja- where four men were hunched over a game. A modest pile of money was heaped in the center.

  "Aw," Aja sighed. "Y'all know I can't have you gambling in here."

  "Wouldn't b
e a problem if Dean wasn't a damn cheat," snapped Billy. "We always play civilized. Like gentlemen. Don't bring no commonness to this table, Dean Murphy."

  Dean, a mustachioed old cowboy with a matchstick firmly clamped between his teeth, and a confederate flag pin on his lapel, flushed. He was the Chief of Police in the neighboring county of Washitaw, and not used to having his honor questioned. "Call me a cheat again, Billy, I'll turn you loose."

  "So you want me to watch?" Steel cut in, before Billy could respond. He felt a little irritated; he'd rather keep talking to Aja.

  "That's right. Just one round. We're almost done."

  "More drinks?" asked Aja.

  "Bring 'em over, honey," said Dean, not looking up from the table.

  Steel took a seat and watched the game. It was a basic Devil's Run setup, with two teams playing for the middle.

  The men played. Steel watched, or pretended to. His eyes kept drifting to Aja. She bustled about the bar, cleaning up, tinkering. She couldn’t concentrate on the TV anymore.

  Aja got a text from Daniel, her oldest younger brother. Daniel was 17, and took charge of the younger boys when Aja wasn't around.

  All good. Travis out with friends at Paul's. Gramp in bed.

  Aja sighed in relief. She was glad Drew was home, at least. He always got up to trouble when Travis was around.

  Her eyes moved over to Steel. The townspeople had been right. He did look a lot like Sheriff Joe. Steel’s features were just a little softer than Joe’s. His easy smile and curly gold hair did a lot to hide it, but the likeness was there.. Right down to the glacier-blue eyes.

  Aja liked the look of him sitting there, laughing with the Boyd men. She guessed this was their way of testing to see if the newcomer could be part of their group. For all their distrust of strangers, these old geezers liked to be around young, capable men like Steel. He probably reminded them of their younger days, and made them feel old and wise.

  The low tones of Willie Nelson drifted through the bar, relaxing everyone. Darkness gathered outside. Aja Robinson checked the time. Two more hours on her shift.

  The men determined that Dean was not, in fact, cheating in cards. And Steel Gray found he was actually enjoying himself.

  Aja watched him from behind the bar. He sure cut a handsome figure. He had a broad chest. Big hands, which he rested on his knees when he laughed. She found herself wondering-improperly- how it would feel to be stroked by Steel Gray's hands, to feel him pressing her into the bed...

  "Why don't you buy us a drink, son," suggested Billy. His nose had turned a very bright red, but he was grinning.

  Steve, Dean and Tim agreed. Steel laughed and ordered a couple pitchers. When Aja set them down he resisted the urge to pull her into his lap.

  "Now, Steel," said Billy, a humorous glint in his eye. "You ever seen a tractor?"

  "Of course," chuckled Steel.

  "You ever ride a horse? What do city boys do for fun?"

  "Drink and eat, same as you," replied Steel. His memories of being on horseback, soaring over the Texas prairie, were fond ones. He found he didn't like being called a "city boy", but there was something playful and friendly about these old men, so he let it pass.

  "I went up to the city once," Steve Logan put in. He still did not trust Steel fully. But the man had bought them all drinks, which counted for something, and in this light he didn't look too much like a Tucker after all.

  "You went to Charlotte," Dean accused. "That ain't no real city."

  "I met an Indian gal there," Steve continued. "That was back in '68. Her daddy didn't like me. Wanted her to marry another Indian."

  Steel felt Aja’s eyes on their little group. He caught her gaze from across the bar. She smiled.

  Dean grunted and took the matchstick he'd been chewing out of his mouth. "Indians are funny creatures. Remember Lynette’s kid?"

  Tim and Billy laughed. "I sure do," said Billy. Tim did not- he had been too young.

  Billy explained to Steel: “Charlie Murphy. His mama was Lynette Murphy.”

  “My aunt,” added Dean Murphy.

  Billy went on, “ Lynette was Preacher Murphy’s daughter, y’see. But little Charlie’s daddy was some no-count Cherokee from North Carolina-“

  “Cherokee? There ain’t no Cherokee around here.” Tim interjected.

  “Didn’t I just say he was from Carolina? Anyway, the whole thing was a big scandal for Preacher Murphy, on account of Lynette and the Indian”- Billy glanced at Aja, and finished quickly- “Not being married.”

  But Steel had caught the look, as well as Billy’s hasty correction, and drew his own conclusion. Of course it would be a scandal in a town like Boyd for the preacher’s daughter to get caught up with a man from another race. It seemed prejudice still ran deep in these parts.

  “Not being married?” he repeated easily. “I guess that’s looked down on around here.”

  “He was an Indian,” Dean repeated, as if that hadn’t been clear.

  The men shrugged. Billy continued, “We have our ways. Tradition, you know? Anyway, that Charlie Murphy kid was never right. Ran wild half the damn time. Kept askin’ everyone about his Pa, then kept runnin’ off just like he did. Preacher tried to set Lynette up with someone, get the kid a man in his life. But no one wanted the poor girl.”

  “She wasn’t so bad,” muttered Steve Logan, almost too quiet for anyone to hear.

  “Then why didn’t you marry her?” chuckled Dean.

  “Aw, I dunno,” Steve hedged. The men laughed. Steve had been pretty young when Lynette was in her prime.

  “No one wanted her,” confirmed Billy. “It was the 60’s. Things was different, folks was more close-minded.”

  “Aw, no one but John Tucker,” corrected Dean. “Remember?”

  “Oh, I remember,” Steve said. “The old bastard.”

  “Now, now,” said Billy. “That’s our friend Steel’s kin.”

  Steel shrugged, unsure how to respond. “Never knew the fella.”

  He didn’t want Billy to stop the story. Luckily, Billy liked an audience.

  “John Tucker was a character. The Sheriff, back then. Everyone was afraid of old John, especially his family. But the Tuckers was always sort of isolated up there on that land. No one knew what the hell was goin’ on. You heard stories all the time. And there was some madness in that family, to be sure.”

  “So what happened with Charlie?” asked Steel, returning them to the point.

  “Well,” explained Billy, “The long and short of it was, John Tucker tried to get little Charlie Murphy out of the way. I mean, his Ma told everyone she was waitin’ for that Cherokee to come back. She didn’t want any other man to be a Pa to Charlie. So old John Tucker figured, hell, if the brat was out of the way, then sure thing Lynnette would come to her senses, which meant she’d fall right into his bed. And hopefully bear him another bastard. John liked to sow his oats, if you catch my drift.”

  “John was married,” Steve said, recollecting. “To Lydia Tucker.”

  “That’s right. A bitter old cow if there ever was one. But he had his heart set on poor old Lynette. She was a pretty young thing, give her that,” said Billy. “And once a Tucker wants something, y’know, they have a way of getting it.”

  “John probably thought this one wouldn’t be any different,” Steve said darkly. “Rumor was he’d had half the wives in Boyd. Couldn’t throw a stone without hitting a Tucker bastard.”

  “What happened?” Steel pressed. The men were avoiding a point, he could tell.

  “They found Charlie Tucker dead,” said Steve Logan flatly. “A slug in his head.”

  “Christ,” said Steel. He glanced at Aja, to see if she was listening. She was, but he couldn’t read her expression. She looked away from his stare.

  The men nodded. “Suicide, they determined,” Steve said. “I never knew a nine-year-old to kill himself.”

  “What happened to Lynette?” asked Steel.

  “John Tucker misunderstood,”
Billy answered wryly. “He thought Lynette would come runnin’ to his arms like a scairt little dove.”

  “She didn’t,” said Steel.

  “No sir. The mornin’ after they buried little Charlie, Lynette Murphy walked to the Tucker place, shot the knees out of John Tucker while he slept, and walked into the mountains. That was the last we saw of her. “