Howdy, Ma'am Read online

  HOWDY, MA’AM

  Book One in the Bull Rider Series

  By

  Mary J. McCoy-Dressel

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  Bull Rider Series Reading Order

  Howdy, Ma’am

  Hey, Cowboy #2

  http://www.maryjdresselbooks.com

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright © 2012 Mary J. Dressel

  All Rights Reserved

  First Digital Edition December 2012

  United States of America

  Edited By

  Joelle Walker

  Cover Design By

  Dawné Dominique

  COPYRIGHT

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, scanned, distributed, stored in, or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, either now known or in the future, is forbidden without the express written permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.

  License Notes

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work in whole or in part is illegal. This e-book may not be resold or given away to other people unless in a qualified lending program. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to the provider and purchase your own copy. Do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  DEDICATION

  For my “Real” McCoy boys

  Short Version Blurb

  Six months into Velia Armano’s well ordered life alone, bull rider Caulder McCutchen saunters in with his howdy, ma’am and flame-blue eyes, offering a job any photographer would find hard to refuse—to travel the circuit with him for a season and photograph a year in his life.

  On the journey, she realizes they both have their own obstacles to overcome. Staying out of each other’s arms is only one of them. (Longer version on website)

  Content WARNING: Occasional harsh and unsavory language. Sensual love scenes.

  “You will not find a soulmate in the quiet of your room.

  You must go to a noisy place and look in the quiet corners.”

  By Robert Brault

  http://www.robertbrault.com/

  Quote used with permission from Mr. Brault

  Prologue

  Velia Armano checked her watch for the third time before settling in for the long flight home. It had only been thirty minutes in the air, but it seemed like time without end. She sipped a glass of Chianti and wished her mother could have returned home with her from Italy, but Lidia stayed behind to be with her nieces and nephew. Velia closed her eyes and forced herself to stop thinking of her aunt so she didn’t break out in tears on the plane—waiting at least until she arrived home and could cry alone.

  It all started with the horrible ordeal—a family nightmare, when Aunt Dafne’s life had been cut short at the sadistic hands of her abusive husband. Taking a leave of absence from her job as travel photographer, Velia promised to help with her family’s ristorante for a couple weeks. She needed to clear her mind and stay busy.

  Was it a message for Velia—a warning? Even with her eyes closed, she could see images of her own husband pounding on her. His family attributed his violent personality change to pain, and how living with pain made it hard for him to cope. They could give any explanation they wanted, but in the end they ignored her pleas for help. She soon learned talking to them was useless.

  None of their reasons or excuses justified the bruises and knots on her head, the holes in the wall. Justin abused drugs and his doctor contributed by writing prescription after prescription. He lied about having pain from an earlier back injury. Ten years ago? It didn’t seem to bother him when he’d throw her across a room. No one understood the adverse effect the mixture of drugs had on him, how they made him spiteful, mean, and violent.

  Trying to relax with her head against the cool window, she still visualized his hands around her neck. Images of her aunt lying in a casket intermingled with memories of her own bruised face. It started so gradually, one slap here, a shove there, name calling. Before she realized it, the abusive episodes came closer together and became more violent. All this helped Velia decide right there at 39,000 feet in the air she would leave her husband. She owed it to herself and to her aunt, to her family. Justin would have to find a new whipping board.

  For another hour, she plotted out what she would do. Justin had a trip planned in two weeks. She could find a place to live and move out within two weeks. Couldn’t she?

  * * *

  Justin didn’t know she lied about leaving for a one-day assignment the week she returned from Italy. He didn’t know she resigned from her job. He didn’t know she started her own bank account, or that she had taken a flight to Tucson, Arizona, and leased an apartment from an elderly couple.

  They had an awful argument the night before he left for his trip. Velia didn’t prepare the steak the exact way he wanted, which was funny in itself since she was a great cook. One swipe of his hand across the table and the complete dinner crashed to the floor. Glass bowls shattered against the wall and mashed potatoes and tossed salad clung to the window.

  Justin shoved his chair back and stood. Clutching the edge of the table, he looked around at the wreckage then back at her before stomping out of the room.

  She noticed the loathing in his eyes and prayed the rampage was over. Her heart pounded while she cleaned up the mess without saying a word.

  Afterward, Velia headed upstairs for a shower, but Justin grabbed her arm before she reached the bottom step and dragged her into the kitchen to prepare him something he would eat. She jerked the freezer open then turned to him. “If you’re hungry, go get something for yourself.” She slammed it shut. “Everything is frozen and I’m not cooking anything else tonight.” She almost screamed with joy over her sudden feat of boldness.

  But not without cost.

  Justin grabbed her by the neck and threw her across the kitchen where she landed on the floor in a heap. Velia covered her face when he started kicking, but not before he landed a hard one on her cheekbone. The excruciating pain went straight through to her bones, but she wouldn’t dare let him know. Tomorrow morning he might not remember how she got the lump and bruise. But tomorrow he wouldn’t see it; she’d sleep in until he left.

  She’d be gone when he came back home.

  * * *

  Velia waited patiently until Justin left. With her father’s aid, she arranged for a moving service and they helped pack and moved all the things she chose to take. Once again she lied to her family about the bruises. If only her father knew Justin’s abuse. Daddy Armano wouldn’t take kindly to the truth.

  But she knew it wouldn’t be long before he figured out the facts.

  The time had finally come to start over. She noticed the car across the street with two men inside in case Justin came back for some reason or another. She had been protected by these men all her life. If only they could have known her abuse. She had hid it well. But now the time came to move on. Another flash of her aunt’s face came to her. She reflected on the last month and what led up to this moment. A somber smile eased into the corners of her mouth as she closed the door. “I just saved myself Zia Dafne. If only you could have saved yourself.”

  Chapter One

  Velia waited in front of Edward and Alice Smith’s home while the movers unloaded her belongings. This place would be home for no
w. Home until she was ready to go back on the road with her camera. In a couple days she would sign the lease on the small building in town to start her new photography business.

  Home until her life began again—half way across the country.

  She tossed her near black, wavy hair over her shoulder and stepped out of her car. Removing her sunglasses, her brown eyes with the unique touch of green, narrowed against the bright Arizona sun. She swiped roseate-colored lipstick across her full lips and blotted them against each other. When the movers finished, she paid them with cash. Glancing around at the dry desert environment, she took a deep breath and wiped sweat from her brow.

  Velia stomped sand from the bottom of her flats then took a step forward, stopping before reaching the broken-down steps. With a mournful sigh, she whispered, “Home.” She placed her purse strap over her shoulder and looked to the second level. Standing straight, she pulled her shoulders back, and headed inside, careful not to catch a toe in the cracks of the damaged steps.

  Time to live again.

  When she went inside, Alice Smith met her at the door.

  “Please come and have some tea, dear, and maybe dinner, before you get started upstairs.” The elderly lady escorted Velia to the kitchen.

  Her husband, Edward, followed. “Now, when’s the first Italian dinner?” He took a seat in a chair at the end of the table. “I can already taste it!” He licked his lips in anticipation.

  “Now, Edward,” Alice began, “I told you when we met this pretty thing she would not come down here and cook for you. You let her have her own life. Besides, your stomach will not take it. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!”

  Edward lowered his voice when his wife leaned into the refrigerator. “Oh, Italian food is all worth it.” He picked up a magazine then reached for the remote and turned on the small kitchen TV.

  “Here, dear.” She handed Velia a bowl of fruit. “You keep this for a snack up in your room later.” Alice indicated she take a seat. She patted Velia’s hand and smiled a soft smile. “We’re so glad to have you here, Velia. Make the apartment upstairs yours. If you need anything, please don’t be afraid to ask. It will be nice to have a young face around here again.”

  “Thank you, Alice. You’re way too kind.”

  “Yeah, sorry you don’t have your own entrance, but we’re fun people once you get to know us.” Edward rolled his eyes and laughed. “What a line!”

  Velia folded her napkin. “The entrance is no problem.”

  “Oh, Edward, a single lady like Velia probably hears a lot of lines.” Alice turned toward her. “You didn’t mention a husband, dear, you must be single.”

  Velia didn’t want to talk of her personal life but answered. “I’m separated.” This was the first time she said or even admitted it to herself, and to hear the words out loud made it a reality.

  “Oh, a pretty thing like you will find the proverbial Mr. Right,” said Alice.

  Velia dabbed her mouth with a napkin. Mr. Right was the last thing she needed.

  “Velia, dear. Please don’t think me rude for asking, but your name is so lovely. Does it mean something special?”

  She hoped there wouldn’t always be this many questions. “My name? Mia madre, my mother, named me for the ancient ruins of Elea, off the coast of southern Italy. The Latin name for Elea is Velia. She became infatuated with the place after an expedition when she was young. She thought Velia Armano sounded better than Elea.” She laughed. “That’s mia madre for you!” Velia took her bowl of fruit and got up to leave.

  “Well, I’m sure you’re as special as your name.” Alice stood. “You try to get used to living here if you can. I hope a couple old fogies don’t bother you too much.”

  Velia gave a subtle smile. “I’m happy to be here.”

  * * *

  After tea and a light dinner, Velia entered her apartment. A deep sigh slipped from her throat. “Where do I begin?” Peeking out the back window, she surveyed the unique scenery, loving the tall, prickly cacti, the dusty, desert sand, and palm trees. Tumbleweed blowing this way and that, and the low mountain ridge all made an interesting backdrop compared to the chaotic city streets of Chicago. The western environment reminded her of cowboy movies her brothers Bobby and Danny used to watch on TV.

  She lumbered to the bedroom, found the sheets, and made her bed. Velia smoothed the comforter then plopped in the center and leaned against the headboard, stretching out her legs. She clasped her hands behind her head, glancing around at the four bare walls.

  When Justin returned, he would be shocked. He’d scour Chicago; go to all the places she would normally go. He’d plead with her friends and bribe his own. He might even travel to Italy in search for her. But he wouldn’t go to the restaurant… No, her father waited there and Justin wouldn’t come face to face with him. Not at first, not until he stewed for awhile and worked up his nerve. He would know to fear her father’s people, and now, with his secret out, he had more to fear. He would look from afar—and wait.

  But he wouldn’t look in a city in the southwest. She became pensive, knowing she would have to go on with her life just as her mother would have to go on with hers when she returned from Italy. “All’inferno con Justin!” She shook her fist in the air. “To hell with Justin Waters!”

  Somewhere between her thoughts of a previous time, she drifted off to sleep. The shadows were deep when she woke. She found the coffee and made a cup, walking around the apartment while it perked. She stood at the bedroom window, glancing out as the sun set below the horizon. The sky burned a brilliant tangerine color, and the tall cacti in the foreground stood black in the shadows. She could dig out her camera but wasn’t in the mood. Tomorrow would be another day.

  It would take some getting used to, being away from her family. She lit candles and dimmed the lights. Sinking into the recliner, she took a deep breath. “A new life.” An overwhelming peacefulness settled over her, and a joyful smile broke out on her face. She settled back, reached for the remote, and turned on her stereo, easing into the rhythm of the words from her favorite tenor. Closing her eyes, she still smiled, sensing her new life headed in the right direction.

  Chapter Two

  Six Months Later

  A part of Velia yearned to travel, but she erased such thoughts from her mind. True she loved it, but she didn’t want to roam far away at this point in her life. It was time to remain in the real world. When she called Justin three months ago to tell him she had filed for divorce, he begged her to come home. He said he had changed and apologized for hurting her. “I’m off the dope.”

  Velia didn’t believe him, but if he spoke the truth, she would give it more than six months before getting close to him again. Any day now, they would be divorced. She gave him everything except for what she took a half a year ago. All they needed was a day in court and a signed decree from the judge.

  Her small photography company flourished. She couldn’t hire any help at first, but she put in long hours trying to make ends meet, photographing weddings, selling a shot or two to a stock photography company, and she loved photographing children. She did all her own editing again. She didn’t make a lot of money at first but could be happy and satisfied. Then business picked up, and she found herself being able to buy the things she wanted.

  Edward and Alice grew to be an important part of her life, and vice versa. She had never cooked the special dinner for them, outside of pasta and meat sauce as a first course for one Sunday dinner, or an occasional dessert. She would go all out for their upcoming fiftieth wedding anniversary. Her parents were invited, too, and she couldn’t wait to see them.

  Velia stuck to a schedule and made Tuesday her day for staying in the shop and doing paperwork. Today was Wednesday, the day for editing, and she couldn’t keep her mind focused on her work. Her mind kept wandering to her old life.

  Her dad made it clear he would take no bullshit from Justin. If he came around the restaurant to make trouble, he’d be dealt with.

&n
bsp; One thing Justin never knew though—threatening her dad wasn’t a wise thing to do. For the anniversary party, her father promised to leave Chicago securely, and if Justin tried to follow, his men would make sure he didn’t get in the way. Velia knew better than to talk about certain family discussions. Ever since she was a child she knew there were topics she wasn’t allowed to question. She grew up with specific family rules ingrained in her memory. “Don’t ask, and don’t tell.”

  “Howdy, ma’am. You always talk to yourself?”

  Velia glanced up into bright eyes, as blue as the flame on a cigarette lighter, belonging to a man standing in front of her desk wearing a cowboy hat tipped back on his head.

  “Ah, no.” She closed one of her laptops and stood. “What can I do for you?”

  “I’m looking to speak with the photographer who owns this place.”

  Velia stuck out her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  “You’re the photographer?”

  “I am, yes, it’s what I do.” The alluring glow of his eyes said something to her, and her gaze lingered.

  “I need one.” He continued to stare, making her uncomfortable. The lopsided smile across his lips didn’t help.

  “Well, you need one, you...you found one.” Oooh, Lord, I’m stumbling over my words. Velia never stumbled over her words. She always had control when it came to her work.