Shoulda Been a Cowboy (Rough Riders #7)(3)

“I did not, you crazy old bat.”


“See? He’s calling me names again.”


Cam glanced at the gray-haired man holding an ice pack to the goose egg on his forehead. “Now, Ralph, you know I won’t tolerate that kinda talk.”


“Hah! Told you he’d be on my side,” Opal said gleefully.


Ralph muttered.


“There are no ‘sides’ here, Opal. I haven’t made an arrest. Yet. Not until someone tells me what happened.”


“She—”


“He—” the couple said simultaneously, and started arguing simultaneously.


Cam tried to listen to the heated exchange, but the accusations flung back and forth had nothing to do with the issue at hand: Opal Stancil smacking Ralph, her husband of five decades, with her umbrella. Why Opal had an umbrella handy when Crook County had suffered from severe drought for the last ten years remained a mystery.


Domestic disturbance calls weren’t a mystery or all that unusual. Most incidents were cleared up fairly quickly once the participants were forced to talk to each other in front of an unbiased third party.


It also helped that Cam wore a gun.


But Opal and Ralph were too busy shouting to listen to each other, let alone him.


Cam let loose an ear-piercing whistle. “I’m out of patience. Ralph, since you’re injured, you can ride up front with me. Opal, I’m gonna have to cuff you and you’ll ride in the back.”


More silence. Then a meek, “You mean, you’re gonna arrest us? Both of us?”


“Yep.” Cam waited. Rumor in the Crook County Sheriff’s office was Opal and Ralph repeated this same row on their anniversary, every summer, going back fifty-four years. But as there were no arrest records, none of his fellow officers would confirm or deny. They’d just laughed when the call came in on his rotation.


“I can’t stomach the idea of her goin’ to the hoosegow.” Ralph lowered the ice pack and dropped his double chin to his chest. “Aw, Opal, you know I didn’t mean it when I said I wished I woulda married Marion Lutter. She ain’t never held a candle to you in the looks department.”


“And she can’t cook worth a damn either,” Opal said.


“Makes you wonder how she’s so gol-durned, fat, huh?” Ralph peeped at her, wearing a hangdog look.


Opal cackled. “You’re so bad, C-bear.”


“I’m sorry, snooker-pie. I shoulda stayed outta the whiskey on our special night,” Ralph said.


C-bear? Snooker-pie? Sweet baby Jesus. He’d rather jam sticks in his ears than listen to geriatric foreplay.


“Good thing my aim ain’t what it used to be.”


“Amen to that.” Ralph squinted at Cam. “I reckon you can let her go now, Deputy, since I ain’t pressing charges.”


“You sure?”


“Yep.” Ralph patted the floral couch cushion. “Why don’t you come on over here, my bee-yoo-ti-ful blushin’ bride, so we can kiss and make up proper?”


Opal blew Ralph a kiss. “Give me a minute to see him out.” She practically shoved Cam off the porch. “Sorry to trouble you, Deputy. Say hello to your folks from us.”


Then she slammed the door in his face.


Stunned, Cam stood on the steps. But when giggles, grunts and the sounds of slapping flesh drifted through the living room window, he practically ran to his patrol car.


Dust kicked up behind him as he drove away. Fast. His radio crackled before he’d gone too far. “McKay.”


“Deputy, this is dispatch. Do you need backup for…snooker-pie and C-bear?” Deep belly laughs and kissing noises echoed in the background.


Assholes.


Mindful of being on the radio where anyone with a scanner could hear his response, Cam said, “That’s a ten-four,” rather than his usual, “Fuck off.”


“One other thing. This just came in.”


“What?”


“There’s a situation over at the Twin Pines.”


“What kind of situation?”


“Looks like a bar fight.”


It figured. Nothing cowboys liked better than a good fight. “I’m on it.” Cam spun a U-turn. Maybe he’d stick around for a stiff drink after he broke up the brawl. God knew he needed one now.


***


“Let’s toast.” Keely McKay held her bottle of Bud Light to the center of the table. “To Hudson McKay, the newest addition to the family. The darling boy of Colt and Indy. He’s beautiful and healthy, but damn, do I wish one of ya’ll would birth me a niece.”


Laughter rang out as bottles and glasses chinked together.


“The last thing we need is another wild McKay girl,” Skylar said dryly.


“But nine boys in a row? Ten, if I count Chassie’s precious Westin? Come on. There’s something in the water in Sundance for sure.” Keely skewered her sisters in law, Channing, Macie and AJ, with a look. “Maybe ya’ll oughta grab your collective spouses—my beloved brothers—and head over to Moorcroft for a night or two when you plan on getting knocked up again.”