The Wild Bunch 3 Casa (2 page)

He winced when one of them started to pull off his boot, whistling a breath through clenched teeth.

"Okay," one EMT said, "looks like we have to cut it off. Hate to ruin a good pair of Tony Lamas, but..."

"Just do it," Jason said, his voice low and tight.

To cowboys, Tony Lama and a few other boot brands were the equivalent of Manolo Blahniks and Jimmy Choos to fashionistas. Such high-end boots did not come cheap, but Casa could see Jason couldn't stand the twist and jerk of having the boot pulled off his foot. The ETM produced a scalpel and sliced through the stitched leather in a fast, clean cut. He peeled the top back and then slipped the foot free. Another cut split the leg of Jason's Levi's from the knee down. As the denim fell back, the darkening double bruise appeared and the lump of the distorted bone showed clearly.

"Yep, you got a break...the tibia for sure. Gonna have to run you in to Silver City to get it taken care of."

Jason muttered some crude words ending in, "Fucking bad luck." He looked up at Casa. "Can you and the other boys handle the rest of the rodeo?"

Casa nodded. As badly as he wanted to stick close to his injured hero, he knew he had another obligation--to stay here and take care of ranch business. "Sure. Don't worry about a thing. We've got it. When you're ready to come home, call and one of us will come after you."

The EMTs put Jason on a gurney and rolled it into the back of the ambulance. At least they didn't use lights and siren when they took off for town. Casa grinned, knowing how much Jason would have hated that. A busted leg was not life-threatening, and he would hate a lot of commotion made in his behalf.

Shortly before the crew loaded Jason in the ambulance, Stace and Spark had made it around to see what was wrong. Casa filled them in quickly. "We've got to see this show through and do the ranch proud," he concluded. "Then we'll need to go for Jason when the doc is through with him. I'll take care of that."

Spark shot one quick, keen glance at him, but did not respond directly.

Two days later, Casa and the other two cowboys sat in the bunkhouse, downing their second cups of morning coffee. The sun had begun to peek over the eastern horizon, tinting a few clouds rose and gold with the first rays. Casa glanced from Stace to Spark, a question in his intent gaze. They both had the grace to look abashed, lowering ebony and bright blue gazes to the bunkhouse floor.

Although they had been best friends and casual lovers since their high school rodeo days, almost inseparable for more than a decade, the cement of their bond suddenly seemed to be breaking down. Casa struggled with new and troubling notions.

Since the rodeo, he seemed to have stepped into a leadership role. Jason had limited mobility with a bright blue cast on his leg. He'd be laid up for at least six weeks, which put more work and responsibility on the three lead wranglers, but somehow Casa had become the one giving most of the orders, taking charge in a quiet but competent way. At one time, that role would have probably fallen to Spark, but things had undergone a subtle shift recently. New connections had begun to form, links with such power they had begun to erode the closeness the three buddies shared. Casa had started to exert more leadership and initiative, as Stace and Spark were no longer quite as involved as they had been.

A pang shot through him. Did his two buddies resent his new status? They didn't seem to, but it still made him uncomfortable, while some added news disturbed him even more. It had become clear Stace's relationship with Jared Langford and Spark's with Lou Vetrano had progressed well beyond casual flings. Of course, that could impact everything.

Jared was in the process of moving his edu-tainment media firm to Las Cruces, and Lou had bought the Dolan Ranch, a few miles up the road. He'd be coming out from Chicago often to spend time there now, perhaps even relocating soon, too. So how would Stace and Spark progress with their lives? The awareness they might not even be working together much longer felt so strange Casa could hardly grasp the idea.

"Damn it, guys, what's happening with us? How's Rainbow Ranch going to fare if we aren't the head wranglers anymore? How can we do this to Jason after all he's done for us? I need some answers. It's time you two 'fessed up here. In a few weeks' time, everything's changed."

"We're still here," Spark protested. "Still doing our jobs same as ever. Yeah, Lou's going to be right up the road, and I'll prob'ly spend some time there, but I haven't served notice to Jason that I'm quitting or anything. For now, I don't plan to."

Casa looked at the blond Texan, wishing he could see into his friend's mind or heart. While the words sounded good, intuition still told him a lot was not being said. If Spark hooked up with a highly successful and powerful man like Vetrano, Lou was likely to object to sharing Spark's favors with others. Casa didn't have to be a fortuneteller to read that in the cards.

Stace shuffled booted feet. "I'm not going anywhere either. Jared may be setting up shop down in Las Cruces, and I'll be there for my free time, but..."

Casa shook his head. "Yeah, but... I hear a lot of buts that aren't coming out. Now, don't get me wrong. I'm happy for both of you finding a special someone, somebody who feels like the second half of yourself. I can see the happiness shining in your faces when you say the guys' names. I'm happy, even if I'm a little jealous. We've been fine buds and it's been a winning season. Still, nothing lasts forever. Kinda like shit, change happens."

He exhaled a deep breath, the sound almost a sigh. "I know Jason sees it coming. He's been looking real worried when he thinks we don't notice. And being stove up like he is right now makes it even harder. Yeah, he can prob'ly recruit some more cowboys to start taking over serving the special guests we've catered to. Some of the new kids are close to being ready to handle that, too. But, damn it, it's not going to be the same."

"We're not getting any younger," Stace broke in. "If I haven't lost count, the next birthday will be the big three-o for us all. Could be it's time we grew up and settled into being adults instead of overgrown kids. You know, football and basketball players, rodeo cowboys and such eventually have to retire, and we're still athletes, too."

Spark guffawed at that. "That's a novel way to put it, bro! We did retire from rodeo, you know. Now, if you want to be crude, we're basically glorified hookers in chaps. Showing the high-roller guests a good time both in private and with the outdoor and Wild West stuff. Still, you have a point there, Stace. It's really not work for middle-aged guys to do. The real stud muffins are supposed to be young and in their prime. "

Casa snorted. "Speak for yourself, Blondie. I ain't over the hill yet, not by a long shot. So far none of my guests have hinted I didn't meet and exceed all their expectations in the saddle, the bed, the hot tub or wherever."

Spark laughed again. "You're just trying to live up to the Latin lover image and the Casanova nickname. You gonna hang around 'til you start to need Viagra?"

For a moment, Casa saw red. Spark had gone one step too far! He waited, though, and did not take the swing he contemplated the first second or two. Then he realized his friend was only kidding, joshing him as they'd done for years. None of it was malicious; mostly a way to avoid growing maudlin when things got a little too intense.

"Nope. Although, that'll be a long time coming, and way before then, I'll pick my time and slide into something else. Might even buy my own ranch. We don't have much excuse not to sock away most of our pay. Hell, Jason provides food, shelter and nearly everything we need and pays us well on top of it. That's why I still drive a ten-year-old pickup. I don't need a new one and, instead of a car payment, the extra goes into my savings."

Spark whistled through his teeth. "Whoa, didn't realize you were so practical, amigo. Good idea, though. Well, we best be getting down to the boss's office for our morning briefing. Not sure what, but I have a hunch something's coming up that Jase wants to talk about."

Casa shot a sharp look at Spark.
As if you couldn't guess. Oh hell, what will be, will be.

The three rose and filed out together, falling easily into step once they cleared the bunkhouse door. A tiny chill slid down Casa's spine when he remembered they might not be walking together like a troop of soldiers forever, and perhaps only a few more times... It was going to be harder than hell if he wound up being the last one here.

But I'd still have Jason--all to myself.

The thought sneaked past his defenses to poke him like a stock prod with fresh batteries.

Jason Longford stood at the picture window in the big front room of the main house, which he used for his office. He watched the three wranglers striding down the trail from the bunkhouse. Turning toward his desk, he thumped his cast on tile floor, sick of it already.
Only been six shittin' days, but I'm fed up to the gills with the invalid gig. Damn it, but I really fucked things up.

The whole stunt had been stupid. He'd known better than to try to ride that humping bull, since he was definitely out of practice and a long way past his athletic prime.

Bottom line was he'd been driven to show off. The way things had been going, he'd wanted to remind his three top wranglers he wasn't over the hill yet. Sure, Spark had taken up with the Italian Stallion and Stace had his Californiano, but Jason still had the balls to handle tough stock, be a real cowboy. Not that he had to impress the trio, but he still wanted to be more of a big brother than a father figure to them. He wasn't quite sure what he felt, really, but he'd acted impulsively and paid the price. Maybe he was past his prime... That thought sat ill on him as he looked again at the three younger men walking his way.

Damn, but they were a fine looking trio. He'd be proud to claim any one of them as-- He jerked the thought up short. Hadn't he told himself a thousand times he wasn't going there? For one thing, he would never be the one to break up their triumvirate. For another, he wasn't sure which he'd choose were he to allow inclination to overrule judgment enough to make that irreversible step of taking one for his lover.

At least early on, he could probably have had them all, but somehow that had never seemed right either. A three- or four-way group might be good for some casual fun, but he was basically an old-fashioned, one-man man. The only man he'd ever really loved was long gone. So he hung out here, ran his ranch, watched a parade of intriguing guests come and go, and held back from any close attachments. At times he wondered if the right partner would ever appear for him again. Maybe it didn't really matter. He told himself he had everything he needed.

Anyway, he'd made up his mind the three cowboys were surrogates for the kid brother he'd never really had a chance to know and the sons he would never have. He rarely acknowledged the deep loneliness he sometimes felt, but today it was harder than normal. He tried to ignore the emptiness and shove it into a dark corner of his mind. The scent of change was in the wind. It was high time he got to the bottom of some issues. This time he was not going to blow off the awareness of changes coming hard and fast, a sense that had grown over the last few weeks.

Normally, he was not one to slip around hard questions or put off important decisions. In this case, he'd waited more than long enough. He'd seen the handwriting on the wall and blinked it away one too many times. This busted leg put an exclamation point on the situation. Although a hunch told him what was happening, he needed to hear it directly. Before he was quite ready, the three cowboys strode in, spurs jingling as they settled into their customary chairs in a half-circle around his desk.

"'Mornin', boss." Spark's salutation lacked its normal cheery ring. Even his blue eyes sparkled less than usual. "What's the good word today?"

Although they really didn't have a leader, the blond Texan often seemed to speak for all three, cheerful and straight forward about it. His jovial and forthright manner seemed shadowed today.

Stace also appeared almost subdued, not at all his normal smart-mouthed self. Casa, too, was quiet. His dark gaze met Jason's for an instant and then dropped.

"Okay, boys, we need to talk. I'd have to be blind, deaf and stupid not to see what's been happening, mostly right under my nose. Stace, the grapevine tells me your California movie mogul is setting up shop down in 'Cruces. Of course, that isn't any of your doing, is it?" He paused to grin, trying to set the black rider at ease.

Stace shuffled booted feet before he glanced up with a grin he couldn't quite conceal. "Well, I reckon a little, boss. But hell, who'd stay in California when they could be here? New Mexico's gotta be God's country."

Jason nodded. "Can't argue with that, but I get a feeling this particular guest finally got his rope on you. He may even be about to cut his notch in your ears. Is that true?"

Drawing a long breath, the cowboy let it out as he shifted in his chair. "I reckon. Kinda, anyway," he mumbled. "We're-- Well, we're getting to be real close friends. He hasn't said anything about a long term partnership, but..."

"But nothing. You already know it's going to happen. If I were you, I'd go for it. None of you boys is my private property; never have been. If you decide to keep working here, I'll be pleased, but your capacity and duties prob'ly will change a bit. That's okay, too." He could almost see the relief in Stace's expressive eyes as these assurances soaked in.

Jason turned his attention to the blond Texan. "And it's all over the county that this high roller Mafioso type from Chi-town has bought Dolans' old ranch. He's the same guy who monopolized your time for two visits and clearly plans to come back for more. I doubt this young Godfather type will be too eager to share his new toy boy--maybe his long-term main man--with every Tom, Dick and Harry who comes for a vacation. In fact, you may soon be wearing the ole Double D brand instead of the Rainbow--unless he designs a new iron for his spread."