Catching Calhoun (2 page)

Nudes. Calhoun Jefferson loved painting nudes, he loved the color of bare skin and he loved women who were willing to get naked. That was a bounty for the eyes: women in the flesh—the different, varying skin tones that harmonized with the female personality. Dark, light, medium—he loved all the colors under the sun.

Particularly nude.

Some men saw heaven in a sunset. Some found God in the ocean’s waves and secretive depths. “Ah, for me, it’s the color of a nipple shadowed against the velvet of a rounded breast, the shades contrasting and yet complimenting, so tantalizing in hue,” Calhoun explained to his brothers.

“Oh, God,” Last said on a moan. “He’s been to Hooters again.”

“I have not,” Calhoun said, indignantly slinging a saddle over a wooden rail. “I’m trying to explain my latest work of art to you undercultured dunces. I’m calling it ‘Hues from Heaven.’”

“I feel more cultured already,” Crockett said. “And my IQ has risen commensurately.”

Calhoun sighed. “I’m heading over to Lonely Hearts Station for the rodeo. Anybody interested in going?”

“What for?” Archer asked. “Wait a minute, are you paintin’ hooves again?”

Calhoun stood straight, staring at his brothers. “It just so happens that, this time, I’m entered, thank you very much.”

“Entered as what?” Bandera asked. “Rodeo clown?”

“Rider,” Calhoun said, deciding he wasn’t going to let his brothers’ jiving get to him. He had a mission today, and that was to advertise his afternoon art showing of first-class nudes by riding in the rodeo.

Of course, his show wasn’t anything he wanted Mason to know about. Or his other brothers. They simply did not understand his love of artistic nudity.

“What I just can’t get,” Last said, “is if you like nekkid women so much, why don’t you just get you one? We got about ten sleeping in our house this week, if you were too scared to notice. Just a set of jammies or a big sleep shirt between you and heaven’s bounty. I say, pick one already.”

Calhoun felt heat color his neck and rise up under his hat. “Have you been too
scared
to tell Mason that you have a woman living at the ranch who’s expecting your child?” he asked, his tone deliberate and mild.

Every brother went still. Not even a jaw moved as they stared at Last.

“He just got home yesterday,” Last said. “And he’s been hiding from Mimi. I think I’d better give him a few more days to settle back in.”

His point made, Calhoun walked from the barn. He wasn’t scared of women! He revered women. And that was his brothers’ problem, one of a thousand. They didn’t understand that a man didn’t necessarily have to sleep with his passion.

Of course, it was nice when he could.

But sleeping around had gotten some of the brothers married lately, and one of them was now expecting a child. “I’m figuring on keeping my jeans zipped, a lesson no one else around here seems to want to learn,” he muttered, getting into his truck. “Broken hearts, babies, wedding rings—I’d say that nude women on canvas are a helluva lot safer than women in the flesh.”

O
LIVIA
S
PINLOVE
knew about broken hearts and broken homes. She knew about cowboys and broken promises. She also knew about breaking bad patterns—and when her children, Minnie and Kenny, dragged the long, lean, hotly handsome cowboy toward her, Olivia defiantly crossed her arms over her chest.

“Hello,” she said, her voice chilly. “I must apologize if my children have been bothering you.”

“Not at all, ma’am,” he said, lifting his hat and showing a toothy grin. “I find them charming.”

“We got lost,” Kenny said.

Sure they did, Olivia thought. They’d been raised on the rodeo circuit. They knew where their grand
father was and where the trailer was. “Thank you for escorting them back to me,” Olivia said. “Sometimes they can be quite the handful.”

“No, we’re not,” Minnie said. “We’re angels.” And she grinned up at the cowboy.

Olivia shivered. “Excuse us.” She took the children by their hands and led them back to the trailer. Once inside, she sat them on the bed. “Minnie, Kenny,” she began, “no. No, no, no.”

The children looked at her woefully. “We need help,” Minnie pointed out. “Grandpa’s getting too old to do the act.”

They were speaking of Grandpa Barley’s knees being too arthritic to allow him to jump in and out of barrels these days. Olivia knew the kids were right, but that didn’t mean they were going to interview cowboys at every rodeo in the United States until they found one suitable for their act.

“Your grandfather is fine, for now,” she told them. “Please don’t worry so much.” She hugged them to her. “Really. It’s going to be fine.”

“How?” Minnie asked. “How is it going to be fine when we don’t have an act?” Her large eyes were too old for her nine years and too worried. So little childish spirit lingered in Minnie’s gaze.

Olivia smiled at her daughter, kissing her forehead. “Trust me, it’s going to be fine.”

Kenny began to bite at a hangnail. “It’s not fine. I could get in the barrels, and Gypsy could find me instead of Grandpa.”

How could she explain to him that Gypsy and Grandpa were a team, and that teams couldn’t be broken apart? Once one member of the team no longer worked, the other went to pasture, too. At least in this case. Barley and his Gypsy were a horse and a man who could not be separated.
Tough old Dad,
Olivia thought.
And tough old horse.

The two had always worked together to feed and take care of her family.

“Here’s the deal,” she told the kids. “I have to go ride Gypsy in a bit. If you promise not to ‘interview’ any more cowboys for Grandpa’s job, I’ll let you go watch the bull riding. If not, you can stay inside the trailer and do some math charts and spelling. I know you love to study, but I heard that there was going to be a superspecial bull tonight.” She lowered her voice with excitement. “And no cowboy can stay on. It’s a bounty bull. Mean as a three-headed rattler.”

“Whoa!” Kenny breathed. “I gotta see that!”

“Me, too.” Minnie slid off the bed. “It’s a deal. No more cowboys tonight, Mom.”

“Ever.”

“Okay,” Minnie said, giving out the promise at least, Olivia figured, until tomorrow. “No more cowboys.”

“Good. I’ll see you after the events. Kenny, stay with Minnie, and Minnie, you know the rules.”

“Yes, I do,” Minnie said, taking her brother’s hand as they left. “No, no, no.”

Olivia smiled as her children left the trailer. Someday she’d explain to them that their father had been a
cowboy, one with a wandering heart. And though she loved her children dearly, the reason they were all in the shape they were in today was because Olivia had fallen under the spell of the Elusive Sexy Cowboy.

No more spells for her.

“W
HOA
,” K
ENNY SAID
, fifteen minutes later, having hotfooted it to the right to see the bull of which his mother had spoken. “Look at the size of ’im!”

Minnie nodded. “He’s going to throw his cowboy into the next state.”

Kenny giggled. “I can’t wait. Cowboy’s gonna look like a smushed grape by the time Bloodthirsty Black gets through with him.”

“I like that bull’s name,” Minnie said thoughtfully. “The cowboy who stays on him wins a lot of money, cuz no one ever has.”

“How much money?” Kenny asked.

“I don’t know….” Minnie squinted her eyes at the bull. “A lot. That’s what we need to stay out of trouble with—”

“The tax man,” Kenny said helpfully. “Grandpa’s always cussin’ him.”

“We need a lot of money,” Minnie murmured. “Too bad you’re not old enough to ride.”

“I’d stay on ’im,” Kenny bragged. “I’d stay on ’im like a gnat on his horn. Like spit in his eye. Like—”

“Hey, kids.” A man’s voice interrupted. “What’s happening?”

Minnie glanced up into a pair of twinkling black
eyes. Friendly, and kind. Too nice for a bull like Bloodthirsty. She took a breath. “What’s your name?”

“Calhoun.”

“Are you going to ride Bloodthirsty Black?”

Calhoun nodded, amused by her question. “Yes, I am. Shouldn’t you kids be with your parents?”

“Mom works with the rodeo,” Minnie said bravely, thinking that the cowboy was awfully tall, the tallest one she’d seen in a long time. Maybe the biggest, too. “I’ve seen more rodeos than you’ll ever see, cowboy.”

He laughed. “Is that so, young lady? Well, then, I’ll be on my way.” Tipping his hat, he left the pair.

“Hey, I hope you win,” Minnie called after the cowboy.

“If he doesn’t, I’m gonna ride that bull,” Kenny muttered.

“No, you’re not,” Minnie said. “Mom will never let you.”

“And Mom said you weren’t to size up any more, uh, marks,” Kenny reminded her. “You looked like you’d seen a movie star when you talked to that cowboy. You got all goo-goo.”

“That’s what I’m doing wrong,” Minnie whispered. “I’m looking for marks, when I should have been looking for goo-gooey.”

“Huh?” Kenny stared at his sister.

“We don’t need a cowboy to work for us, we need one for
Mom.
”

They watched as the cowboy lifted a child, a little girl her own age, Minnie estimated, onto a pony.

“You mean, like a dad?” Kenny asked. “Grandpa Barley said he’d kick the bejesu—”

“Shh,” Minnie said, “you’re not to quote Grandpa when he goes south of good manners, Mom says. If that cowboy can stay in the saddle, we’re going to find a way to drag him over to Mom. You can cry and I’ll pretend to be lost.”

“And you’ll get in trouble,” Kenny said. “Mom knows when you’re, you know, looking out for her.”

“Yes,” Minnie said, “but Kenny, our life would be simpler with a man who can jump into a barrel. And that cowboy looks like he can handle barrels just fine.”

“Maybe we should get Mom to watch him,” he said. “Maybe she’d change her mind, although she’d probably say he was too big to…” His gaze wandered as he watched Calhoun walk to the other side of the arena.

“…to fit inside a barrel,” Minnie finished for him.

“Yeah.”

“Kids,” Olivia said, walking to their side as they hung over the rail, looking out into the arena. “I’m about to start the act. You guys are going to be okay for another hour, right?”

“Yes,” Minnie said. “Look at that man, Momma. That’s the cowboy who’s gonna ride Bloodthirsty Black.”

Olivia glanced in the direction Minnie was pointing.

“He’s very tall,” Kenny said. “I don’t think he’ll be able to stay in the saddle.”

“But he looks like Antonio Banderas,” Minnie ob
served. “In that movie we weren’t supposed to be watching when you fell asleep, Momma? Antonio could do
anything.
”

“Let’s all stick to G-rated movies from now on,” Olivia murmured, her heart beginning to beat faster as she watched the cowboy walk. He did have a saunter to him, a loose swagger of confidence that caught the attention of every woman in the arena.

Then he turned around to wave to her children, and Olivia’s heart sank deep inside her chest.

He’s gorgeous.

Too gorgeous to be anything but trouble in spades, she decided quickly. “Come on,” Olivia told Minnie and Kenny. “Come watch Gypsy and Grandpa.”

“No, thank you, Momma,” Minnie said. “We want to see this man. I think he can stay on if he’s been doing his cowboy calisthenics.”

Olivia frowned. “What are those?”

“The ones you do in front of the TV every morning,” Kenny said. “With the lady in the tight swimsuit who always smiles real big and says ‘You can do it!’”

Olivia shook her head. “Those are not calisthenics. And that’s not going to be a cowboy after he gets tossed and stomped.”

“I think he’s gonna win the big prize,” Minnie said. “Calhoun, you can do it!” she called loudly.

The cowboy grinned at Olivia, touching the brim of his hat with two fingers in a roguish salute. She gasped and drew back. “You two come with me.”

“Mom,” Minnie said, “you wanted us to watch this. You wanted us out of your hair while you did
the act. We’re not going to try to get you to talk to him. We just want to see what he can do.”

“It’s Bloodthirsty Black,” Kenny reminded her. “Mean as a three-headed rattler. We can’t miss him!”

Olivia sighed, caught by her own sales pitch. “I wasn’t trying to get you out of my hair. I thought you would enjoy seeing bull riding more than you’d enjoy an act you’ve watched a thousand times.”

“Well, we are.” Minnie gave her a squeeze around the waist. “We’re fine. Don’t be so worried about us.”

Worry was her first and middle names where her children were concerned. But she’d been outmaneuvered here, though the cowboy didn’t appear to have much on his mind other than his impending trip to the E.R. Olivia gave both her children a hug, then happened to glance toward the chute again. The cowboy was sitting on the rail, watching them with a grin on his face.

She had never seen a sexier cowboy in her life.

Her skin crawled, itched and tingled.

“Have fun,” she said. “No talking to cowboys!”

“We won’t,” Kenny said. “Maybe just an autograph or two.”

But Olivia had walked away, not hearing his last words. She couldn’t stop thinking about shaggy long black hair, full smiling lips, and predatory black eyes that said
Hey, pretty lady,
even from a distance.

Wolf.

And she’d seen it all before. Maybe not in such a sinful package, but still, that cowboy wasn’t going to sing her a trailside good-night tune.

S
O THE TWO LITTLE
rodeo urchins had a cute-as-a-bug mother, Calhoun mused. And no father watching over the family, apparently. The little girl hadn’t said anything about a father in the rodeo when she’d mentioned her mother. He knew all the cowboys hanging around the stalls, and he’d never seen this particular family before. He wondered where they hailed from.

Shaking his head, he tried to focus on what the cowboys were saying about Bloodthirsty tonight.

Two little faces watched him intently.

Sighing, he thought about his art exhibition. The urchins’ little mother would make a nice painting. He wondered what color her nipples were. Were they the shade of her lips, which had been a nice blush, or the deeper brown of her hair underneath the blond highlights? He loved nipples—they added an element of surprise. You never knew what color they would be. A lot of other things on a woman made sense; you could figure them out in advance. But nipples were dependent on the shading of the body, individual and unique to every—

“Cowboy, have you sent your brain to space?” someone called. “Earth to Calhoun, earth to Calhoun.”

“Very funny.” Calhoun slid off the rail. “I was thinking up my strategy.”

“Really,” another cowboy said, pinning Calhoun’s number on the back of his vest. “From the stupid look on your face, we thought maybe you were daydreaming.”

“About women,” someone else said, and everyone laughed. “Sex-dreaming. About all the women who are going to want you after you tame this bounty bull.”

“Nah, sex was the furthest thing from my mind,” Calhoun said, lying through his teeth. “All my attention’s on Bloodthirsty Black.”

Except that small piece that had leaked out for a moment of fantasizing, Calhoun thought, glancing toward the children who watched his every move. It was so unlike him to find a woman in the flesh who stayed in his thoughts longer than his paintings did. Dang, he was going to have to be careful around those children. They had a smokin’ hot mama—and that was the last thing he needed to be fantasizing about. There were too many surprise kids who had recently turned up in the Jefferson family tree.

He wasn’t planning to add a branch. Or even a couple of twigs.

“You can do it!” he heard a little voice call.

“Cheering section?” someone asked.

“No.” Calhoun turned to look at the children briefly. “Who are they?”

Everyone stopped what they were doing to stare at him.

“Barley’s daughter Olivia’s kids. Barley the rodeo clown. Tough character, Barley Spinlove. No one except a brainless wuss would ever think about dating his daughter, or marrying into Barley’s family.”

“Barley used to date Marvella,” someone else explained. “Think he married her, but it didn’t last long.”

“And that’s a bad reference right there,” Calhoun said.

Marvella had a tough enough rep of her own. The owner of another bounty bull, Bad Ass Blue,
and
the Never Lonely Cut-n-gurls Salon in Lonely Hearts Station. Everyone had had a run-in with her at one time or another.

“Barley makes it known that he wants no part of a smooth-talking cowboy hanging around his daughter—she’s got two kids from just that same incident. Cowboys can’t be trusted—and Barley doesn’t differentiate between us. We’re all bad as far as he’s concerned. None good enough for Olivia and his grandkids.”

“Uses himself as an example of why women ought not date cowboys,” someone else offered, and everyone went back to whatever they’d been doing.

“Great,” Calhoun said. “Guess that means I won’t be painting her.” Or getting her clothes off. Or going out with her. And marriage was definitely out.

Marriage? Why had that thought floated through his brain?

“Of course anyone with a half cup of sense knew Olivia’s marriage wasn’t going to last. She married a first-class jerk, but that doesn’t mean anybody else is going to get a chance,” a cowboy muttered.

Calhoun looked up at the four faces staring at him. “Oh, don’t tell me,” he said. “I’m standing in the middle of the Olivia Spinlove Fan Club.”

“It’s Members Only,” one of his buddies said
glumly. “Outsiders Not Welcome. So you have a better chance of staying on Bloodthirsty Black than you do of ol’ Barley letting you take a walk with his daughter.”

For some reason, Calhoun thought as he tugged on his creased, well-worn leather riding glove, that challenge just made him determined to be the one who took Olivia Spinlove for a moonlight stroll.

I
N ACTUALITY
, that stroll would have to be postponed.

Calhoun limped from the arena after Bloodthirsty tossed him to the ground with a flare of outstretched hooves and a ha-ha! attitude. He took stock of his body after he eased onto a barrel in an abandoned stall. Spleen rearranged, armpit felt loose, knee seemed dicey—perhaps a cranial dislocation. Damn, he was seeing stars.

“You okay, cowboy?” he heard a worried child ask.

And his two new friends seemed to be anxious to stick to him like gum on a boot heel. “I’m fine,” he gasped out. “You two run along.”

The girl looked at him curiously. “You don’t look fine. You look like you might need a cup of hot tea. That’s what Momma always gives us when we’re not feeling ‘up to par.’”

He groaned. “Well, now,” he said, stripping off his glove and swallowing a pained groan. “I’d have to say I’m about three strokes shy of par.”

“Not your best day,” the boy said. “You’ll play better another time.”

“There won’t be another time.” Calhoun wished they’d go find another time in the next county and leave him to his busted pride. “Hey, you kids beat it for now, okay?”

With some guilt, he watched the little boy’s eyes fill with tears.

“Oh, come on,” Calhoun said grumpily. “You can’t expect me to be friendly right now. My tongue’s lodged somewhere behind my ears and my teeth seem weirdly disconnected.”

“Kenny just wants an autograph,” the little girl said, her tone mildly reproachful. “At least you
tried
to ride that bull, and that oughta be worth getting an autograph from you. So we can say we met the cowboy who
tried.
”

Calhoun perked up. “An…autograph?”

The boy nodded, his eyes round and huge with either adoration or hope.

Calhoun’s chest puffed out a little with male pride. “No one’s ever asked me for an autograph before.”

“You stayed on for three seconds,” the girl said. “Kenny’s easily impressed.”

“Hmmph.” Calhoun gave her an assessing eye. “You’re too young to be sarcastic.”

“Sarcastic?” Her eyebrows raised.

“Never mind.” He scribbled his signature on the number he’d been wearing and gave it to Kenny, who seemed astonished over the gift. The little boy clutched it to his chest as if he feared Calhoun would change his mind and take back his number. “Now
what? Don’t y’all have someplace to be?” He eased himself into a different sitting position, wondering if he should take off his shirt to inspect his rib cage when there was a young lady about.

Probably not.

“Well, since the show’s over,” Minnie said, “we should go watch Gypsy find Grandpa in the barrels. Wanna come with us?”

Kenny’s face beamed at him when he heard his big sister’s offer. “Uh—” Calhoun began.

“You don’t want to miss what Gypsy can do,” Minnie bragged. “Mom’s a great rider.”

He perked up at the word “Mom.” What the heck. At the end of every bull tossing should be a pretty woman. And he had a couple hours before the art showing. “Sure. I’ve got nothing better to do.”

“Can you stand up?” Minnie asked. “’Cause we can help—”

“I can stand!” Calhoun insisted, annoyed that the kids thought he was so flimsy. “Now look, you two ragamuffins don’t try to work me over, okay, because I know what you’re up to.”

Minnie blinked her big, innocent eyes. “You do?”

Satisfied, he nodded. “Yeah. I do. You want me for your mom.”

The children stared at him.

“Grandpa said he’d kick the bejesu—” Kenny started.

“Shh! You’re not supposed to say that!” Minnie reminded him. She looked up at Calhoun. “Cowboy,
we want you to hide in a barrel. And that’s all we’re looking for.”

Calhoun blinked, then narrowed his eyes. “Hide in a barrel? Do I look like the kind of stuffingless cowboy who needs to hide in a barrel?”

“From the way you ran from Bloodthirsty Black, we think you’ve got what it takes,” Minnie said earnestly.

“Now, look,” Calhoun said, pretty certain now that he was getting railroaded, “just because I said you were too young to be sarcastic doesn’t mean I don’t know when you are.”

Kenny looked at him sorrowfully. “You don’t want to be in our act? It’s lots of fun.” He got big tears in his eyes. “I told Mom I’d do it, but she said no. She said Gypsy goes out to pasture when Grandpa does.”

They stared at him solemnly. Sighing, Calhoun eased to his feet. “You know what? You two are kind of strange. But I’m from the original House O’ Strange, so I’ll go along with the game for a couple hours. I’ve got nothing better to do.” And if it meant getting a second look at Olivia Spinlove, then a man could do worse with his time.

T
HE GAME THAT
B
ARLEY
and Gypsy played was basically hide-the-pea-under-the-shell, only they used Barley and a barrel. Audiences were thrilled with the hide-and-go-seek game between Grandpa and Gypsy, because Gypsy wore blinders and therefore seemed to really be able to figure out where Grandpa was hiding, even when Olivia made Gypsy go over to a child
in the audience, giving Grandpa a chance to hurriedly switch barrels. Gypsy always went to the new barrel immediately, making the audience laugh as she reached in with her nose to check for him. On command, she would whinny very loudly, as if to say, Ahha! She could push barrels over with Barley in them, and she could kick them, making Barley yell “Ouch!” much to the delight of the children in the crowd.

Olivia was responsible for the gag running quickly and smoothly. She herself wore a mask over her eyes, so that she couldn’t “cue” Gypsy to the correct barrel.

Sometimes Gypsy pretended she didn’t know where he was, and Olivia would ask the kids to “help” Gypsy find Grandpa. While they called out answers, clowns would run through the audience giving fresh apples to kids who participated, even if they just pointed a finger. Most of the time, every child ended up with a pretty apple.

And at the end, Grandpa did a sparkler show while sitting on Gypsy, his arms pinwheeling in figure eights and lasso motions as the children watched in amazement.

Then every child who wanted to could pet Gypsy.

Olivia adjusted her mask, thinking that it was sad that the show would be over at the end of this school year. In fact, this was the final time they’d perform in the south. Lonely Hearts Station had been one of the few places where they hadn’t performed. Barley had ditched the town many years ago, after Marvella and he had a row.

Olivia suspected he’d never gotten over Marvella. He really was an old softie, though he had a reputation for being mean. They’d probably never get back together, but first flames often burned in the memory. Still, life went on.

She waited for her cue to bring Gypsy into the ring.

“Hey, pretty lady,” a deep voice said next to her ear.

“Don’t take your mask off, Momma,” Minnie said. “Guess who’s come to watch the act?”

Her heart sank. He’d spoken the exact words she’d imagined him speaking. Truly, this cowboy was a player at the master level. “Minnie,” she said, her voice warning her daughter to remember the rules—no cowboys.

The man stopped Olivia’s fingers as she raised her hands to take off the mask. “I like it,” he said. “Mysterious women are quite interesting.”