Page 59 of Nashville Cowboy
“No. I’m fine.”
“Good night to you then,” Mima said.
Eve gave him a long look and turned to go. “Night.”
“Good night,” he grumbled and watched her walk away.
“There, isn’t that better? You and Eve, friends again. Good night now.”
“Not so fast.”
Mima stopped in her tracks and turned. “What is it?”
“You should have told me about Eve.”
“Nowthatreally wasn’t for me to tell.”
“I know everything. And while I wanted to kill the man when I first heard, Eve is right. My anger is only going to poison me. Not…him. But I wonder if y’all know how much it kills me that I wasn’t there to help.”
“It wasn’t my place. And I found out twoyearsafter the whole ordeal had even happened. Too late for any of us to do a thing. My poor sweet Eve, she felt so guilty about what she’d done to our family.”
My poor sweet Eve.
What abouthisEve? She wasn’t a poor thing and she wasn’t always sweet. She was feisty. Ornery. Ready to take on the world. Now she was frightened. Shell shocked. Damaged.
“You be careful not to pity her now,” Mima said. “She won’t have none of that.”
“Hell, no. I know Eve better than anyone else in this family and I know she’d kill me for feeling sorry for her. There’s nothing to feel sorry about. She’s strong. Beautiful. Kind.”
“Son, you knew the old Eve. She’s not the same young woman anymore. I suggest you get to know who she is now.”
“And I suggest y’all let me remind her ofwhoshe is. That Eve is still in there somewhere and I intend to find her.”
“Just be careful. I see what’s happening here, and it’s no secret that I’d like you two back together. But you can’t start something up with her and leave again. Of course, you’re more than welcome to come home to stay. We have the land. You could build a beautiful home not far from the one Lincoln and Sadie will be livin’ in. Soon enough, Daisy will find someone, too, and live in her own house on our land. All of us together again.”
He snorted. “I guess this is what you wanted all along. But I live in Nashville now. I have a home there. Good friends and connections.”
“And Eve is here in Stone Ridge. Along with the rest of yourfamily.”
“I’ll visit often now that Eve and I are talkin’ again. We tour through Texas all the time. She’ll come visit me.”
“We both know this is about more than that. It’s about you taking your rightful place beside your brother. You’re a rancher at heart.”
“I can be, but I’m also a hell of a musician.”
She cocked her head. “Do you like that life? Traveling in a bus and sleeping in hotel rooms on a bed one million people have slept in before you?”
Jackson rolled his eyes. “They change and wash the sheets, Mima. But no, I don’t like that part.”
Lately he’d been thinking of how he might make Texas home base and hit the road from here. Or he could open up a home recording studio and record here. Unfortunately, access to the best engineers was in Nashville, or Los Angeles. Both not exactly a commute to Stone Ridge. There were lots of details that would have to be worked out before any of it could happen. But more than ever before, he was tempted. It didn’t mean he had to give up entirely on music. He could find a different approach to it all.
When Mima retired for the night, Jackson went to his bedroom in search of his guitar. He plugged in the headphone cord and started strumming. Before he’d left Nashville, he’d started work on a song that was to be a gift to Lincoln and Sadie on their wedding day. Since arriving, he’d completed it. Jackson believed it to be the best song he’d written in years, and he planned on recording it. This would be his baby. His song. He was tired of being a hard-working midlist musician and had paid his dues. Maybe he didn’t have the big name that would cause a song to jump to number one, but he wrote the songs. If one didn’t work, he could write another.
Years on the road still left him feeling at times that he’d gotten nowhere. He’d watched others record his songs while he paid his dues touring and opening for bigger names. It hadn’t been the plan to sell his songs, but when he’d needed money and others wanted his songs, he’d sold them. Then just gone back on tour with the band. Someday soon it would be his turn for a runaway hit. For now, there was something calming about being out in the country, away from the bright lights and hustle of the city. He was enjoying the break.
While he hadn’t enjoyed the bull-sperm complaining from Hank, he appreciated riding Taco again and doing the hard and sometimes punishing work of a rancher. The past few days he’d helped tag cattle, lifted one out of a muddy ditch, and nearly been kicked by a pissed-off mama when he’d tagged her baby. Fortunately, he was still fast on his feet. By the end of each day he’d been so spent that he’d collapsed in his bed, Winston at his feet. There was no time to sit around feeling sorry for yourself on a ranch. Something needed attention every second, or so it seemed.
And he’d forgotten something else: he kind of loved the life. The physical exertion left his mind free to wander and daydream. It was how he’d written his first song. Sometimes the best songs came when your mind was free and your body was too tired to interfere with random thoughts.
