Dusty: Wild Cowboy Page 15

  “I will be leaving in a couple weeks, but not for a film shoot. And I won’t miss the rodeo.”

  “Then where?”

  “L.A. Sundown Pictures has optioned my screenplay.”

  “Your what?” Dex glanced around as if to confirm he’d heard right.

  “My screenplay. It’s a script for a movie.”

  “I know what a screenplay is,” he answered sharply.

  “I thought you gave up that writing nonsense years ago,” Jesse said.

  “Nonsense is right,” J.W. boomed and slammed his drink down on his desk.

  “I didn’t give it up.” Dusty crossed the room to the wet bar. His throat had become increasingly dry, and he needed a glass of water.

  “Are you saying you’ve written more than this screenplay?” Dex appeared amazed.

  “Another screenplay and four books.”

  “For the love of Mike.” J.W. clamped a hand to his head.

  The rest of Dusty’s family said nothing, apparently stunned into silence.

  After a moment, Dex asked, “How’s this going to affect your job here?”

  “I don’t know yet.” Dusty drank half his water and refilled his glass.

  “But it definitely will.”

  “To some degree.”

  Dex made a disgruntled sound, and the look he exchanged with Jesse spoke volumes. They sided with their father and weren’t happy with Dusty’s announcement.

  His chest tightened. He’d expected this reaction from his family but it still hurt.

  Why couldn’t they be happy for him like Maryanne had been? It was possible she understood more about how hard he’d worked for his success, having had a mother in the entertainment business. More likely, she was a warm and wonderfully supportive person by nature, and he was lucky to have her in his life.

  Not that the Codys weren’t supportive of each other. But they, and J.W. in particular, had zero tolerance when it came to any of them choosing a path that might lead them away from the family and Cottonwood Ranch.

  A thought halted Dusty.

  Was his father so intolerant because of his affair with Abigail Hansen? It was the one and only time in his entire life J.W. had turned his back on his family and the moral values he held so high.

  Dusty remembered something from a lesson his college psychology instructor had taught in class. Parents disliked seeing their own faults reflected back at them in their children. Maybe his father saw himself reflected in Dusty, which could account for why he’d always ridden Dusty harder than his other children.

  “How much does Maryanne have to do with your decision?” Dex asked Dusty.

  “Maryanne?” His father came over to stand behind the couch. “The girl from Adele’s place?”

  “My writing has nothing to do with her.”

  “But she does live in L.A.?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And you’ll see her when you go there?” Dex asked.

  “I plan to.” Dusty checked his anger. Losing it would serve no purpose.

  “Her mother was an actress, right?” Jesse glanced at Dex for confirmation. “Her father mentioned it when we were in Albuquerque.”

  “Did she help you sell your screenplay?” Dex asked.

  “She gave me a few tips on how to pitch it to the producer.” The sensation of being cornered intensified, squeezing Dusty’s middle.

  “This is just like you.” J.W. stormed back to the wet bar and tossed the remaining contents of his glass in the sink. “Some woman shows up and the next thing we know, you’re leaving the ranch for Hollywood of all places. Have you lost your mind?”

  So much for checking his anger. Dusty lashed out, mostly at his father.

  “Maryanne isn’t just some woman. And I’ve been writing seriously since college and attempting to sell for years. Six, to be exact.”

  “Good Lord,” J.W. fumed. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing.”

  “You may not like what I do, Dad, but you’re not going to stop me.”

  “You’re a member of this family, and you have an obligation to us.”

  “And you have an obligation to your children to be a good parent.”

  “I’ve always been a good parent.”

  “Really?” Dusty and his father exchanged hard stares. He was certain by the fury building in his father’s eyes that he knew Dusty was thinking of Mark Hansen.

  “That’s enough.” Dex stood, interceding. “Let’s take a breather here before someone says something they’ll regret.”

  “I agree.” Dusty started to leave. He needed time to calm down before seeing Maryanne and her father for dinner.

  “Wait,” his mother said, rising from her chair. It was the first she’d spoken since Dusty had entered his father’s office. “Please don’t be mad. We’re all just a little surprised. We had no idea you were writing, you didn’t tell us.”

  “That’s not true, Mom. I did.” At her puzzled look, he clarified. “Back in college. I had some essays published in the campus newspaper. Only Dad didn’t like it and insisted I stick to my business classes.”

  “I remember.” She walked toward him. “They were good.”

  “I’m better now.”

  “Obviously. You sold a screenplay.” She reached up and patted his cheek like when he was a boy. “I’m proud of you.”

  They were the words he’d been waiting his whole life to hear from one of his family.

  “Thank you.” He pulled his mother into a hug.

  “This is bull crap.” J.W. strode forward.

  Dusty’s mother halted him with a stern, “No, it’s not.”

  “I won’t put up—”

  “You will.” Her gaze encompassed everyone in the room. “For now, we’re going to accept that Dusty is a writer. When we find out how much this affects his job at the ranch, if it even does, we’ll decide what to do. As a family.” She included Dusty in her statement.

  The others didn’t object, undoubtedly out of respect for her.

  “I love you, Mom. And the family. But I have the right to live my life in a way that makes me happy.”

  “Of course, Dusty. We all do.”

  Her contemplative expression made Dusty think she was referring to someone else besides him.

  “We’re not through discussing this,” his father said. He always made sure to get the last word in.

  Dusty didn’t care and let him.

  Despite his mother’s show of support, he didn’t fool himself when it came to the rest of the Codys. They’d be much harder to win over. His father would come around only when hell froze over.

  “I’ll see you later,” he said to his mother and started toward the door.

  She came after him. “There is one thing. Can we read your screenplay?”

  Dusty stopped. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

  “Why not? You said yourself, you’ve improved.”

  Dusty debated. Sooner or later his family was going to find out about the subject of his screenplay. He’d just been hoping for later. Much, much later.

  “All right.”

  His mother’s face relaxed.

  She wouldn’t be so happy once she read the screenplay. And his father’s outrage would make today’s rant seem like a minor tiff in comparison.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Can I do it?” Matt asked, his eyes alight.

  “Sure, buddy.” Dusty ruffled his son’s hair.

  They were in the main aisle of the south horse barn. Snowball had showed signs of limping after her ride with Maryanne three days ago. Dusty had initially thought the mare to be a little stiff, which, considering her advancing age, was reasonable. But several doses of bute, the equine equivalent of aspirin, hadn’t lessened her limp. This morning, he’d decided to have a closer look.

  “I’ll hold her hoof,” he told Matt and nudged the mare, who obediently lifted her right front foot. Bracing it against his knee, Dusty handed Matt the hoof pick. “Take the tip and dig around in there
. Gently now, don’t hurt her.”

  Matt followed instructions well. Being so short, he didn’t have as far to bend over as Dusty to see. Track sat by Matt’s side, a place he stayed whenever the boy was around. Dusty wasn’t jealous of the dog’s preference. Nothing made him happier than to see how easily and comfortably Matt fit into his life.

  Okay, maybe one thing came close. How easily and comfortably Maryanne fit into his life, too. He’d missed her terribly while he was in Yellowstone and she was in L.A. and couldn’t wait to see her today.

  Snowball suddenly flinched.

  “There,” Dusty said. “Do you see it?”

  Matt scrunched up his face. “No.”

  “She has a small abscess underneath the shoe.” Dusty indicated an inflamed area about the size of a dime.

  “How did she get that?”

  “Probably from a small rock getting lodged in there.”

  “Can you fix it?”

  “Sure can. I have to remove the shoe, though.”

  “Will it hurt her?”

  “Naw. Hooves are like fingernails.”

  Matt watched in fascination as Dusty removed the metal nails holding the shoe in place and yanked it free. The new strain of flu going around might have caused problems at the preschool but for Dusty, it had been a gift. He’d been able to spend two mornings this week with his son while Josie worked, giving him and Matt a chance to build on the bond they’d already forged.

  “I see you boys are hard at it.”

  “Mommy!”

  Was it twelve-thirty already? Dusty glanced at his watch. The hours with his son had flown by.

  “I’m helping Daddy with Snowball. She hurt her foot.” Matt hadn’t rushed over to greet his mother and instead, stayed beside Dusty.

  “Poor Snowball. Is she going to be all right?”

  “Daddy says so.”

  “That’s good. You ready to go?”

  “Do I have to?” Matt pleaded.

  Dusty didn’t offer to keep Matt longer, though nothing would have made him happier. He and Josie were still learning how to coparent, and they’d agreed not to engage in tugs-of-war in front of Matt.

  “Come on, buddy.” He put Snowball’s foot down and straightened. “I’ll walk with you to your mom’s car.”

  “Can Track stay with me tonight?”

  “If your mom doesn’t mind.”

  While they were saying their goodbyes, the old pickup truck from Cowboy College pulled up and parked. Gil Devonshire had arrived for his roping lesson. Despite already knowing Maryanne would be with her father, Dusty experienced a surge of anticipation. They were having dinner again tonight at The Spotted Horse. This outing would definitely not be business.

  His feelings must have shown on his face for Josie hitched her chin at the truck and said, “I like your new girlfriend.”

  Luckily, Matt was in the backseat with Track and disinterested in his parents’ conversation.

  “Me, too.”

  Josie opened the driver’s side door. “It’s completely none of my business but do you think she’ll be sticking around?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “But I’ll be going to L.A. Frequently, I hope.”

  “I heard about your screenplay. Congratulations.”

  Other than his mother, Josie was the only family member to wish him well.

  “Unfortunately, you’re mostly alone in your sentiment.”

  “Dex shares it.”

  Dusty shot her a look. “He wasn’t exactly cheering me on the other day in Dad’s study.”

  Josie laughed. “Okay, let me rephrase that. He isn’t happy about you having another reason to go gallivanting off as he puts it. But he’s impressed with your talent, and your drive to succeed.”

  “He’s like Dad. He thinks I should stay here.”

  “Markton isn’t the entire world. Some people just don’t realize that.”

  “Spoken like someone who left.”

  Josie had also defied her parents’ wishes and moved to the L.A. area soon after high school. If anyone understood his burning desire to make it on his own, she did.

  “I did leave, but I also came back. Not that I’m saying you should, too, if you left. Only to keep the option open.”

  “My family may not want me to come back.”

  “That will never happen,” she said emphatically.

  Dusty was less certain. “It really doesn’t matter. As long as Matt’s here, I’ll be around. You can count on that.”

  “I know.” She climbed in behind the wheel. “And so does he.”

  Maryanne had been waiting by the truck for Dusty to finish talking to Josie.

  “I’ll be right there,” he hollered.

  She waved in return and headed to the practice arena. Her father had already made his way to the horse barn to saddle up.

  Before meeting him for his lesson, Dusty needed to finish up with Snowball. While shutting the door on her stall, he decided to contact the vet just to be on the safe side.

  In the barn office, he quickly placed a call to Doc Chester. Gil wouldn’t take long saddling the horse he used at Cottonwood Ranch. After eight lessons, he was getting pretty familiar with the place. A few minutes warming up in the practice arena, and he’d be ready to start.

  Maryanne was also getting familiar with the place. Dusty liked seeing her at the ranch. Her clothes and shoes were still completely inappropriate, but her style of dress was a part of her personality, and Dusty wouldn’t want her any other way.

  At first, he hardly noticed the distant echo of approaching footsteps. Ranch hands were always coming and going. Just as he was finishing his conversation with Doc Chester, the door to the office—already partially open—swung wide.

  Dusty’s father stepped inside, looking ready to bite off the closest head, that head being Dusty’s.

  “Thanks, Bill, I’ll see you Monday,” he said to the vet and hung up the phone. Since a confrontation seemed inevitable, he faced it head-on. “Hey, Dad.”

  They remained at odds with nothing being resolved during Dusty’s trip to Yellowstone. He’d been tempted on numerous occasions in the past weeks to ask his father about his conversation with Abigail Hansen. Dex insisted Dusty refrain until after the National Finals in Las Vegas, contending they all needed to focus if they were going to win.

  Dusty was of the opinion that his screenplay had already affected everyone’s concentration, but he respected his twin’s wishes and had remained mute on the subject of the Hansens.

  “We need to talk,” J.W. said.

  “About what?” Dusty strived to keep his tone neutral.

  “Your screenplay. I read it.”

  “You did?” He leaned back in the chair, hiding his surprise. Considering how much his father abhorred the idea of him writing, he’d figured his father wouldn’t touch the screenplay with a ten-foot pole.

  “Yes. And I forbid you to sign the contract from that production company.”

  Dusty couldn’t help himself. He burst out laughing. “You’re joking.”

  “Not in the slightest.”

  His laughter died. “You can’t forbid me. Threaten me, sure, which you’ve already done and will continue to. But you don’t control my life.”

  “I control this ranch and this family and you as long as you remain a part of both.”

  “I don’t understand you, Dad. You’ve been after me for years to grow up. Well, I have. I took responsibility for my son and am a good father to him. I run my own business separate from Cody Enterprises. And the writing you criticized and told me was a colossal waste of time might actually earn me decent money and make me famous.” Okay, the famous part was a stretch but he was on a roll.

  “You always did like being the center of attention.”

  “And you’ve always approved of that.”

  “When it comes to rodeoing or your position in this community.”

  “You think that’s what this is all about? Attention?”

  “
Yes. And you’ll realize that eventually.”

  It hurt Dusty to know his father still thought of him as self-centered and superficial. And the hurt, as it often did with him, morphed into anger. “News flash, Dad. I’m going to make something of myself. Something significant. That has meaning to a lot of people. Though I know you don’t believe anything’s more important than this ranch.”

  “Fine.” To his surprise, his father didn’t explode. “I won’t forbid you to sign the contract. But I’m asking you to reconsider.”

  “Ask? That word’s not in your vocabulary.”

  “It is now.”

  This was a different tactic and one Dusty didn’t trust.

  “Consider the harm you and your screenplay can do to us, your mother especially, if it’s ever made into a movie.”

  Dusty laughed again, only there was no humor in it. “How’s that? You’ll be embarrassed because one of your children didn’t follow in your footsteps?”

  “The whole Hollywood industry is trashy,” his father said with disgust.

  “And you’re above trashiness?”

  “We’re not talking about me.”

  “Maybe we should be.” J.W.’s cheeks flushed a dark red but when he spoke, his voice was level. “The characters in your screenplay resemble our family too much.”

  “The resemblance is minute. The story’s pure fiction.”

  “If it’s made into a movie, we’ll all be humiliated.” It was as if J.W. hadn’t heard Dusty.

  “Stupid me. And here I thought you might be proud of me.”

  “Anyone who sees the movie will think it’s based on fact and that I have an illegitimate son.”

  Dusty pushed to his feet. “Do you?”

  “That’s enough.”

  “You wouldn’t be the first. Not in this town. Not in this family, either.” Dusty’s words gave him pause. Why hadn’t he seen the similarities before? And was it those similarities that made him so intolerant of his father? “I’m no saint myself. Of all of us, I’m the one who’d understand you and what happened the most.”

  For a moment, he thought he might have cracked open his father’s rock hard exterior, but so such luck. The fury in his eyes blazed anew.

  “I won’t have you destroying people’s lives with your accusations.”