A Cowboy's Fourth of July
Author
Melinda Curtis
Reads
17,9K
Chapters
21
PROLOGUE
ALLISON BURNS WAS late for her math tutoring session.
Her young tutor, Dixon Youngblood, had been waiting ten minutes for Allison in the Clementine High School library, sharpening his pencils so that he wouldn’t look like he had nothing to do while he waited for her.
Two of his pencils were in danger of becoming nubs. Dix didn’t care. He’d wait until someone told him she wasn’t coming. He loved Allison Burns. He loved her with all his sixteen-year-old being.
“Runt, your pencils are sharp enough to kill vampires.” That was Cooper Brown. The captain of the baseball team was cranky because he’d been told he wouldn’t graduate if he didn’t pass his science final. “I need quiet and caffeine.”
Adjusting the cowboy hat on his head, Dix let the runt dig pass. He was small for his age. And small for a high school senior, seeing as how he’d skipped two grades in elementary school. And he didn’t have to point out that he could have graduated high school in December and headed to college on that academic scholarship he’d earned. Everyone knew that, including Cooper. It would just be mean to rub Dix’s successes in. Besides, he understood the need to study in peace.
So Dix left the pencil sharpener and returned to his table.
“Come on, Coop.” The school librarian made a “follow me” gesture. “They have coffee in the employee lounge. My treat.”
“You’re a lifesaver, Ms. Lewis.” Cooper didn’t need to be asked twice. He got to his feet.
The opening lines of Your Song by Elton John, sung by a strong female voice, penetrated the thick walls of the library. And then the door opened, and in walked Allison, who passed Cooper on his way out with the librarian.
Allison stopped singing, glanced around, spotted Dix and then hurried to his table. “Sorry I’m late.” She flounced into a chair across from Dix’s, bringing sunshine and the fragrance of a floral perfume. She wore a blue cowboy hat, a short denim dress and blue cowboy boots. Her long brown hair had been highlighted by the sun, lightening the natural auburn streaks. She was beautiful, had the voice of an angel and—sadly—was six inches taller than Dix.
Dix played dumb. “Are you late? I didn’t notice.” He sat down, organizing his short, pointy pencils next to his math book.
Allison opened her binder and stared at it as if not really seeing anything. Dix let her contemplate whatever was bothering her.
“What a mess,” she mumbled finally, although to herself more than to him.
Allison muttered when she was stressed—a frequent occurrence. She led a busy life and had big dreams she was reaching for. When life threw her a curveball and she became frazzled, she developed a faraway look in her eyes, went silent for a bit, and then the mumbles would begin. Those mutterings of hers seemed to help her find calm, because once she got whatever was bothering her out in the open, there’d be a hair toss. Then she’d blink, laugh and sometimes ask, “Where were we?” without seeming to realize anyone else had heard her mumbles.
Oh, Dix heard, all right. In fact, he looked forward to those moments.
It seemed illogical to be captivated by a teenage girl’s mumblings. But Dix learned so much about her during those lapses, things she’d probably never tell him otherwise.
For one thing, Allison wanted to be a country music singer, but her parents didn’t approve.
Truth be told, Dix didn’t think it was wise, although she had a talent with the guitar and a beautiful singing voice. He’d seen her perform at church and in the school choir. And he’d heard she was now singing in a band that played at bars in this county and the next one over. But the odds of a singing career paying the bills were slim to none.
Dix worried that Allison might waste time on this venture; you had to be careful with your first moves into adulthood. Dix’s parents hadn’t been. They’d had him when they were fifteen and in high school. As a young married couple, they’d struggled, not just financially but with the compromises they had to make with their dreams. All of which culminated when they left five-year-old Dix with his paternal grandparents and headed off for college in Stillwater, promising it would be temporary.
It wasn’t.
Dix was determined not to get married or have kids until he had a college degree and a full-time job.
A month ago, Allison had stressed about someone offering to help her make a demo record. She’d had to raise several hundred dollars. She’d scrambled around, doing extra ranch chores at home and selling some of her wardrobe to her friends.
Dix had thought it would have been smarter to find a part-time job in town and save for the recording. Clementine, Oklahoma, was small, but there were businesses that were growing and could use part-time help. He knew this because his grandmother owned the Clementine Savings & Loan and invested in the community.
When his grandpa died unexpectedly six years ago, his grandmother had been blindsided with grief. She’d struggled to get out of bed every morning, much less run a bank and raise Dix. At the time, his parents had just finished grad school and were beginning their professional careers. They hadn’t been ready to take Dix back, which was why Dix found himself in foster care at the Done Roamin’ Ranch, where he saved every penny in case his foster parents didn’t want him either. But the Harrisons had kept their promise to look after him until he graduated high school.
“Dad’s gonna kill me,” Allison muttered across the library table from him, tapping her math homework with a pink gel pen.
No one did math homework with a pen!
Dix slid a short, sharp pencil toward her—not that she noticed. He wondered what was bothering her this time.
Last week, Allison had worried her horse had dementia since it kept balking when she rode toward the barn.
Dix suspected Allison’s ill-tempered barn cat had something to do with that. He’d heard from her younger brother, Tucker, that the cat had a habit of leaping onto horses from the top of the new chicken coop as they passed. That cat was probably angry that she couldn’t get to the chickens. Or so Tucker said. Dix figured Allison should try coming around the barn and using the other entrance. Not that she’d asked him.
In fact, Allison never asked Dix for advice. He just enjoyed listening, loving her in secret and imagining he could solve all her problems.
“Pregnant,” Allison muttered.
Dix’s mouth went dry.
Allison had worried plenty during their senior year but never about anything serious. Never anything like this.
Pregnant.
Shades of his parents. Her life... Her dreams... Everything would become one big dead end, either for her or that kid she was carrying. Of that, he knew firsthand.
“I need help, is all. Someone who’ll be there for me.” Allison raised her light blue eyes toward Dix’s face, tossed her hair, batted her eyes, gave a little laugh and said, “Will you marry me, Dix?”
