Читать книгу Aurora's Cowboy Daddy - Melinda Barron - Страница 7

Aurora took a deep breath and knocked on the French doors that led to the main part of the house. To her relief Holt answered. He still wore jeans but his chaps were gone, and he had on a different shirt.

“Come in,” he said. “You don’t have to knock, you’re pretty much family now.”

Her heart swelled at his words. Even her parents didn’t think of her as family anymore. “I’ll remember that,” she whispered.

“Good.” Holt indicated the room. “You know Austin, and this is Hawk, my second in command, and there are the triplets, Reed, Kyle, and Wyatt.”

Every one of them nodded in her direction and tipped an imaginary hat, since they weren’t wearing any. Hawk wore a lawman’s uniform, and she had to admit it startled her a little. Men in uniform were not what she liked to see. She thought all the Coleman brothers worked on the ranch, and only the ranch.

“So I’ll give you the breakdown,” Holt said. “Reed and Kyle are the local veterinarians. They are good and attract clients from several towns over. Hawk is the local constable. Wyatt and Austin work the ranch, as I do when I’m not working on paperwork for the rescue part of the ranch. Hawk helps me with a lot of it. Guys, this is our new den mother.”

“Welcome,” they all seemed to say at once. Everyone stepped forward to shake her hand, except for Wyatt, who stared at her as if she were about to set the house on fire. Finally, Wyatt inclined his head in her direction and said, “Ma’am.”

Aurora figured that was as close to a welcome she was going to get from Wyatt. She glanced at Holt, to see him glaring at Wyatt. When Holt started to turn his head in her direction she glanced away.

“Dinner’s ready,” Austin announced loudly. “Hawk, would you take the potatoes out of the oven for me? And the asparagus is in the top oven.” He pointed tongs at her. “I hope medium rare is okay with you. If not I’ll leave yours on the grill a little longer.”

“That’s fine with me,” she said.

“Which one?” Holt asked. “And don’t say medium rare’s fine if you don’t care for it.”

Aurora cleared her throat. “Medium is better for me.”

“Got it,” Austin said. He went to the kitchen, then came back and exited the French doors with a platter and tongs in his hand. Hawk went into the kitchen, and the triplets stayed where they were.

“So you trade cooking duties?” Aurora said when the room grew quiet. Who said she couldn’t use her words?

“The only day we don’t cook is Sunday,” Holt answered. “We take Sundays off from each other. We all feed the animals, and then try to stay away from each other as much as possible.”

“Which isn’t easy to do when you live in the same house,” Kyle said.

“And work together,” Reed said with a snort.

Kyle tossed a throw pillow in Reed’s direction, and Aurora couldn’t help but smile.

“Could one of y’all come help me?” Hawk called out from the kitchen. Kyle and Reed both stayed where they were, but Wyatt took off for the kitchen like his rear end was on fire. It was obvious the two of them were not going to get along, at least not at first. Hopefully, she would be able to avoid him as much as possible.

“We’re ready!” Austin called out as he came back inside.

Kyle and Reed stood, and Holt came up next to her and offered his arm. She took it and he escorted her to the dining room where a table was set with enough food to feed an army. There was corn on the cob, asparagus, twice-baked potatoes, baked beans, and dinner rolls the size of dessert plates. All of the brothers were taking a seat, and she imagined those were their assigned places. Holt led her to the end of the table where he let go of her arm and pulled out the chair next to the empty seat at the head of the table. She sat down, and once he’d pushed in her chair he took the head.

Austin came in with his platter, then placed steaks on plates, starting with her. After he’d distributed one to each person he set the platter in the middle of the table. There were still seven steaks there. Aurora stared at the meat on her plate, and wondered how she was going to eat it all at once; it looked to be at least fifteen ounces.

“Reed, it’s your turn,” Holt said.

Aurora looked up to see all of them bowing their heads right before Reed started to pray. After he’d asked God to bless the food and said thanks for the blessings they had, they reached for the food and started to pass around the bowls. Once she’d taken a little of everything she stared at her food; she felt full just staring at it. She glanced around the table to where five men were eating. When she glanced at Holt he was staring at her.

“Please don’t tell me you’re looking for steak sauce.”

The clatter of cutlery and plates came to a halt.

“You want steak sauce?” Austin asked, obviously offended. “Without tasting it?”

“No, I was wondering how I was going to eat all this,” Aurora said.

Austin let out a breath of relief, and they all went back to eating.

“Just eat what you want,” Holt said. “You don’t have to sit here until your plate is clean. Not tonight anyway.”

Aurora turned her gaze to him. The stern look on his face made her mouth drop open. Then, to her surprise, he winked at her. He was flirting with her, at least she thought that was what he was doing. It had been forever since it had happened, more than ten years. She wasn’t sure how to respond. Should she wink back, or just stare at him like she was doing now?

Their gazes locked, and he didn’t give her any indication of how she should act now. Luckily, Austin spoke up.

“But don’t forget there is dessert.” She turned to see the handsome young man waving a fork in her direction. “Chocolate trifle that I worked on last night. It has been chilling all day.”

“Austin’s our master chef,” Hawk said. “Which is good because he can’t shoe a horse worth a damn.”

“Uh-hum.” Holt cleared his voice, and she saw him glaring at his brother.

“Oh, sorry for the language, Aurora.” Hawk lifted his tea glass in her direction. “My apologies.”

Words failed her, again, so she just nodded in Hawk’s direction. Then she looked at Holt. He didn’t wink this time, which meant he wasn’t happy with her nod.

To keep from talking, and looking around, Aurora picked up her knife and fork and started to eat. She moaned at the taste of the steak, and the twice-baked potatoes. The dinner conversation was sparse, and when she’d finally had enough she put down her fork. Her new friends were reloading their plates.

“Are you finished?” Holt asked. After she’d nodded, he said, “Maybe you could tell us your story now while we finish our meal.”

“Murder is not exactly dinner conversation,” she said.

“We can handle it,” Hawk said. “Plus, we don’t want to ruin that delicious dessert Austin has waiting for us. And another thing, is it murder when it’s self-defense?”

Austin didn’t respond, and neither did the other three.

Finally, Wyatt said, “What were you convicted of?”

“Involuntary manslaughter,” she said. “I received a three-year sentence. I was out in six months, and on parole for the remainder. They said I didn’t have to finish my sentence because of good behavior.”

“Go ahead and tell us,” Holt said.

“Consider us a jury of six, even though you’ve already been hired,” Wyatt said. She could tell by the tone of his voice he wasn’t happy with that fact. That’s why he’d glared at her.

“I killed my husband because he threatened to kill me,” Aurora said. Even after all these years it was still hard to talk about it. Her hands shook just a little, so she picked up her tea and took a sip.

“Tell it like a story,” Holt said. “Don’t just throw out little facts. Tell it like you’re telling a ghost story to friends sitting around a campfire.”

She wanted to tell him she’d never done that, but instead she cast her mind back to her first days in prison. She’d told the story to new cellmates, and during group therapy sessions. After taking another drink from her tea she started.

It was March 15^th, the Ides of March. She hadn’t made that connection until someone brought it up in prison one time.

“I was thinking about what to cook for dinner,” she said. “Ben worked on an oil rig below Lubbock. He worked long, hard hours and he was usually in a bad mood when he came home. I always made sure I had cold beer in the fridge for him, but that day it just wasn’t cold enough for him, even though it had been in there all day.”

She remembered her former brother-in-law, Stan, testifying at her trial.

“She killed him because he wanted a beer.” He’d pointed a finger at her. “That was the only reason. There was never any abuse. She made that up.”

Aurora took another sip. “I decided on pork chops, but I didn’t have any thawed. I had them soaking in cold water when he came home, early. He didn’t tell me why. I found out later he’d gotten into a fight with another roughneck and they’d come to fisticuffs and the two of them had been suspended for three days, without pay.”

She stopped speaking for a moment as she remembered the pissed off look on his face when he’d come into the house. He started yelling at me. “You’re just now starting dinner? I’m fucking hungry, get it done.” He’d taken a beer out of the refrigerator and popped it open. Then he’d thrown it against the wall and said, “This isn’t even cold. You’re fucking worthless!”

“That’s when he backhanded me and I fell.” Aurora picked up her tea once more. It was then she realized the noise of forks hitting plates had stopped. She glanced around the table and saw all six Coleman brothers were looking at her.

Ben said, “I should just fucking kill you and be done with it. I’ll find me another bitch to fuck, one that probably knows how to cook, and gives better,” she cleared her throat and said, “head.”

That’s not exactly what he’d said. It had been far cruder than that, but she didn’t want to say that in front of these men. She took another drink and fought back tears.

“Go on,” Holt said, his voice gentle. “We’re all friends here. Remember what we do. We rescue women who have been abused, just like you were.”

Aurora cleared her throat and continued, “He kicked me a few times, then went to the refrigerator for another beer. That’s when I ran for the bedroom.”

Now she closed her eyes and repeated what he’d said, “You going for the gun? Less work for me. Make sure it’s loaded, you cunt.”

“I hadn’t planned on killing him. I hadn’t even gone for the gun. I had dialed 911 by the time he got there. He’s the one who pulled the gun from the nightstand drawer. I realized what he was going to do, so I threw the phone down and fell to the floor just as the gun went off, or I should say just as he shot the gun.”

Her hands were shaking now as the memory of the boom of the shot filled her mind. “I could hear the dispatcher screaming, shots fired, shots fired, Aurora are you there? Talk to me. Shots fired, shots fired.”

She took one more drink. “Her name was Darlene. I’d called the police before because there had been problems before. She knew me by name. Ben hit me a lot. There were several police reports, and hospital reports to back up my claims of abuse. We lived different places, so we had reports from all over.”

She waited for one of them to ask questions, to tell her to go on. Instead they had started to eat again, slowly, and she had the idea they were giving her time to collect her thoughts.

“I rolled under the bed. He shot twice more. When I was under the bed I found the baseball bat. I could hear Darlene screaming at me to answer her. I could hear sirens. I rolled out from under the bed. He was still on the other side. He laughed at me and waved the gun and taunted me for bringing a baseball bat to a gunfight. One of the cops pounded on the front door. He turned his head and I threw the bat at him, it barely glanced off his arm, but it was enough for him to drop the gun on the bed.”

Aurora closed her eyes and fought back tears.

“Go on,” Holt said, his voice still soft and gentle. It was as if he’d wrapped his arms around her and held her tight as she told her tale.

“The cops pounded on the door again. I lunged for the gun at the same time Ben did. I made it first, and I did what he’d taught me to do. I took up my stance and I shot him, twice, right in the chest.”

Once again they were all silent until she said, “The coroner said he was dead before he hit the ground. I hit him twice in the heart.” She laughed nervously before she said, “He’s the one who taught me how to shoot. He said I had to be perfect at it so I didn’t embarrass him in front of his friends when we were out camping and they were shooting at bottles.”

She thought back to the trial, to the jury staring at her, some of them in pity, some in anger. She remembered the prosecutor saying the fight was over when the cops got there, but she shot him anyway.

“She’s a cold-blooded killer,” the prosecutor said. “She deserves to be in prison for the rest of her life for taking a life.”

“The jury obviously didn’t agree,” Hawk said.

“The vote was ten to two to convict,” she said. “I had hoped for probation, but I wasn’t so lucky. Of course Stan convinced them I hated Ben.”

“Stan?” Austin asked.

“Ben’s brother,” she said. Hadn’t she already said his name? She wasn’t sure. Telling the story of how Ben had died always took her back to a time she didn’t want to visit. She knew she hadn’t told them that Stan was out to get her. He wanted her six feet under. She didn’t even know where he lived anymore. He’d lived in Lubbock when she’d killed Ben. Where was he now? As a lawman maybe Hawk could find out. Should she tell him? But Holt had said Hawk was his second in command, and if she told Hawk, would he tell Holt? If he did would she lose her job? She needed this job so badly.

“So the judge sentenced you?” Hawk asked.

“Three years.” She chuckled before she added, “It was six months in prison, then I was on parole for the remainder of the sentence.”

“Now you’re clear,” Holt said.

“And unemployable,” she said.

“Not anymore,” Holt said.

“On that note it’s dessert time,” Austin said. “I’ll dish it up and meet y’all in the den.”

The men all got up, and Aurora turned to Holt. “Can you show me where the bathroom is, please?” She really didn’t need the facilities, but she was about to cry, and she didn’t want to do it in front of all of them.

“Follow me,” Holt said.

They went down a hallway off the living room and stopped in front of the first door. “Where’s the den?” she asked.

“Upstairs,” he said. “Come up when you’re finished. You did good. I think you actually even convinced Wyatt that you needed a second chance. He wasn’t so sure.”

“I could tell.” She went into the bathroom and waited until she heard his boots pounding away on the hardwood floor. Then she crumpled to the floor and put her head in her hands and started to cry, as she did every time she thought about the killing. She remembered the blood, the officers screaming at her to drop the gun, the feel of the handcuffs being attached to her wrists.

Her shoulders heaved as she cried. She was sure the tears ruined any makeup she’d had on, and they would all know she’d been crying. Would that be a good thing, or a bad thing?

Aurora tried as hard as she could to get control of her emotions, but it wasn’t easy. She heard the door when it opened, and saw Holt’s boots in front of her. He grasped her under the arms and pulled her to her feet, then wrapped his arms around her.

She wanted to push him away, to keep him from showing her pity. Instead, she turned her head and placed it on his chest, and sobbed even harder.

“Cry all you need,” he said as he stroked her hair. “But you should know you’re safe here in your new home. I will never allow anything to happen to you. I swear it.”

Aurora relaxed into his chest and savored the feeling of his arms around her. She prayed he was right, and that she’d finally found a home.