Page 11 of The Cowboy Comes Home

The man thanked him and walked away looking thoughtful.

“That was pretty darn wise, my friend.”

He spun around to see Jackson standing there, smiling at him. And wondered what was with this town of Last Stand, that he, a broken-down ex bull rider got somebody’s full attention when one of the biggest stars in Hollywood was standing right behind him.

“Wise? Me? Did you actually use those words together?”

Jackson laughed. “I did. Because that was.” He glanced over at the corral, where a couple of volunteers were busy keeping an eye on the three kids who were mounted up, one of them on ol’ Sorry. And when he spoke again, his voice was quiet, contemplative. “There’s something about this, about doing this that…I don’t know, reaches places we usually keep hidden down deep.”

“Speaking of wisdom,” Tucker said, just as quietly. “It’s a good thing you’re doing here, Jackson. A really good thing.”

His friend looked back at him then, the famous blue eyes intent, his expression sadder. “But it cost a lot of people. Including the one person I least wanted to hurt. You.”

Tucker shrugged. “I’ll be okay. That I’m not homeless and broke because I lost my job is thanks to you anyway.”

“Well, that and that you didn’t go wild in Hollywood and spend every cent they paid you,” Jackson answered, his smile back now.

“Nearly dying will do that for you,” he said wryly.

He was thankful he’d never blown through his prize money, either. Some said he’d been on his way to the top ten, to join their multimillion-dollar prize collection. As it was he’d never cracked the top ten. He had, however, landed in the top fifty, which put him in the seven-figure range, and he still had a lot of it. And what was gone had been to pay medical bills, so he didn’t have that hanging over his head, either. Yep, encumbrance free, that was him. And now he didn’t even have the encumbrance of a job.

Tucker smothered a sigh. As if he’d seen the effort and understood, Jackson nodded slightly. Then he said, “Come on, take a walk with me. We need to talk.”

“About?” he asked, a little wary of Jackson’s serious tone.

“You helping me out.”

Tucker blinked. His wariness vanished. If this man who had essentially enabled him to have everything he had in life needed help, he was there. “Anything,” he said.

Jackson smiled. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

“What do you need me to do?”

With a gesture toward the corral where Nic was overseeing the young riders, Jackson said, “We’ve grown more than I could have imagined in the three months since we opened. So far the Baylors have loaned us ranch hands to help with the horses, but we can’t keep putting that strain on them. They’ve got their own work to do. As does Nic. And frankly, I can’t keep up with it all myself. I was going to try and hire a local or two, but I’d rather have someone I know and trust. As in you.”

Tucker looked over to where Sorry was walking—very carefully, as if he knew the fragility of his passenger—around the big corral, the little girl in the saddle grinning so widely it hammered home to him what a good thing Jackson was doing here.

“So what do you say, Tuck? Will you go to work forThorpe’s Therapy Horses? Job comes with free housing.” He grinned. “And you’ve already checked that out.”

Tucker hadn’t inspected the wing of the main house that Nic had once lived in, but had noticed before falling asleep last night it was spacious—a lot bigger than his place back in L.A.—and fully equipped with everything he could ever need.

“Free? That’s a pretty big benny.” And it was a big benefit, even if housing here was considerably less expensive than L.A. and Hollywood. Hell, anyplace was cheaper than L.A. and Hollywood.

“It’s sitting empty, and they don’t want just anybody living in it. They’d prefer somebody we know and can vouch for. Nobody better than you, bro.”

Tucker sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He looked at Jackson, and asked quietly, “You’re sure this isn’t just charity for the guy out of work?”

“The guy I put out of work? Nah, I’d have picked you anyway. What I’m really sure of,” Jackson added with a wry smile, “is that I’m not tough enough to handle Jeremy, almost twenty horses, and also be the faceplate on this operation at the same time.”

Inwardly, Tucker had the thought that Jackson had already proven he was tough enough to handle anything. But he also knew the amount of work involved in keeping a string of horses that big healthy and happy, and figured the need for more hands was genuine.

He hadn’t planned on actually staying. He’d figured it would be a visit to see where Jackson and Jeremy were living, to meet Nic, maybe soak up a little Texas nostalgia, and then back to looking for work in that other world.

But now that he was here, he wasn’t sure he wanted to leave. Ever.

He’d always assumed if he ever came back, it would be to his home ground, up in Amarillo. But now, even though he’d only been here a couple of days, he found himself thinking there was a lot of appeal to this little town in the Hill Country, both human and animal.

Odd how, when he had that thought, the image that flashed through his mind was a lovely cop and a big black dog.

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