A Cowboy's Duty. Marin Thomas

drove the first truck and kept on coming, stopping inches from Gavin’s bumper. He made no move to back up, which meant Gavin had to back down. Keeping his gaze on the rearview mirror, he shifted into Reverse and pressed the gas pedal. Once he reached the farmhouse he shut off his truck. The Cash brothers circled their vehicles like a wagon train.

      Gavin’s senses were on high alert as he stepped from the truck. He and the brothers faced off. A sweat broke out across his brow. The cotton material beneath his armpits dampened and his blood pumped through his veins like a white-water rapid.

      “What’s going on?”

      Dixie’s voice penetrated Gavin’s military fog and the buzzing in his ears weakened as she marched across the yard, arms swinging.

      “What’s Tucker doing here?” Johnny asked.

      Gavin held his tongue, deferring to Dixie to inform her siblings that he’d fathered her baby.

      “He’s interested in my soaps,” she said.

      Did she really think her brothers would buy the lie?

      Johnny moved closer, crowding Gavin’s personal space.

      One…two…three…

      “Since you drove all this way to check out my sister’s soaps, the least we can do is invite you to supper.”

      Four…five…

      Johnny stepped back and Gavin sucked in a deep breath, the lungful of oxygen easing his anxiety. He glanced at Dixie. Her eyes pleaded for him to leave. “I’ll stay.”

      “Willie, grab some beers.” Johnny nodded to the porch. “Take a load off, Tucker.”

      An hour later, Merle took the half-empty beer bottle from Gavin and handed him a fresh one. “For a soldier, you drink like a sissy,” he said.

      Gavin wasn’t going to be bullied into getting drunk so he’d spill his guts about his relationship—whatever it was—with their baby sister. He checked his watch—5:00 p.m. and no one had fired up the grill. He set aside his beer and stood. “I need to hit the road.” A beefy hand on his shoulder pushed him down on the porch step.

      “Dixie, when are the burgers gonna be ready for the grill?” Johnny called.

      The screen door smacked against the house and Dixie shoved a platter of raw meat at Johnny. “Quit yelling.” She whapped his chest with a spatula then retreated inside the house.

      Porter appeared with a sack of charcoal and dumped the entire bag into the belly of the large Weber grill. He then stuck his hand through a hole in the latticework covering the lower half of the porch and pulled out a large can of lighter fluid. After soaking the briquettes, he tossed a lighted match into the cooker. A fireball shot into the air.

      “Hey, Tucker,” Merle said. “Why’d you leave the army?”

      “After my buddy Nate Parker died I didn’t want anything to do with the military.” Following Nate’s death Gavin had been forced to attend several sessions with a shrink. He’d decided if there was any hope of putting his time in Afghanistan behind him he had to walk away from everything associated with the military.

      Johnny spoke. “Never knew you and Parker were friends.”

      “Parker’s story hit all the TV stations throughout the state,” Merle said. “It’d been a while since Arizona had lost one of its own.”

      “We were up in Flagstaff at a rodeo the weekend the news broke,” Johnny said. “There was a moment of silence for Parker.”

      “Nate would have appreciated that.”

      “You should have stuck to soldiering, Tucker.” Willie snickered. “You suck at bareback riding.”

      “Rodeo suits me fine.”

      “I’m sorry about Parker,” Buck chimed in.

      Gavin missed the good old days when he and Nate had traveled the circuit together. As the only child of a single mother, Gavin thought of his army buddy as a brother. “Nate was a damned good soldier. He didn’t deserve to die.” Didn’t deserve to have his body blown into pieces.

      Merle went inside, then returned a minute later with a guitar. He played “Song for the Dead” by Randy Newman—a tribute to a fallen solider. Merle’s baritone voice was easy on the ears and Gavin’s thoughts drifted to the good times he’d shared with his childhood friend. When the song ended, he said, “That was nice. Thanks.”

      Johnny motioned for Gavin to follow him to the cooker. “What’s going on between you and my sister?”

      Gavin suspected the eldest Cash brother believed he’d fathered his sister’s baby. “We’re just…friends.”

      The look in Johnny’s eyes called Gavin a liar. “Where’s your home these days?”

      “Nowhere in particular. I’m not itching to put down roots.”

      “We all—” Johnny nodded to his brothers on the porch “—grew up hearing people call our mother a tramp, a slut and a gold digger.”

      Gavin knew where Johnny was heading with this speech.

      “Dixie’s not like our mother. She doesn’t deserve being called names.”

      “I’ve never believed Dixie was anything but a nice girl.”

      “Good. ’Cause I better not hear one bad word about her on the circuit.”

      “Mind if I ask you a question?” Johnny had piqued Gavin’s interest about the Cash family.

      “Fire away.”

      “Is it true you and your siblings all have different fathers?”

      “Only Dixie and I share the same father.”

      “Do your brothers keep in touch with their fathers?”

      “Nope. What about your family?”

      “I’m an only child. My mother lives in Phoenix and works for the parks and recreation department.”

      “I can’t imagine growing up an only child.”

      “No fights for the bathroom.”

      The joke fell flat. Shoot, the soldiers in Gavin’s army unit had thought he was a funny guy.

      “You plan to make rodeo a career?” Johnny asked.

      “For the time being.”

      “Willie’s right—you stink at rodeo.”

      “You’re not so great, either.” Gavin changed the subject. “How long has Dixie been making homemade soap?”

      “Since she was ten or eleven. Dixie sells the bars in tourist shops in Yuma.” Johnny lowered his voice. “Between you and me…she’s got this harebrained idea she can sell our grandmother’s soap online.”

      Gavin was impressed with Dixie’s ingenuity but worried with the baby coming that now wasn’t the best time to start up a new business.

      A movement near the porch caught Gavin’s attention. Dixie spread a plastic cloth over a picnic table in the yard. She made several trips in and out of the house for plates, glasses, condiments, buns and pitchers of lemonade and iced tea. Gavin was astonished that none of her brothers offered to help. Instead, the men sat on their backsides, jawing. A newborn would bring added stress to Dixie’s life—a life already busy with soap-making, starting a new business and catering to six grown men.

      You’re no better than the Cash brothers—you’re walking away from Dixie.

      “Burgers are done!” Johnny shouted.

      The brothers raced to the picnic table and Dixie motioned for Gavin to sit at the opposite end from her. He pulled out his chair and there resting on the seat was the cash