Excerpt
Lone Star on a Cowboy Heart
Marie S. Crosswell © 2024
All Rights Reserved
Chapter One
Prescott, Arizona
September 2014
Sam Roswell stops for dinner at the Dog Bowl Diner in his civvies, his department-issued sidearm locked in his desk drawer at the sheriff’s office. He chats up his waitress just to feel better about eating alone, then watches the other people in the diner, half cop on the lookout for mischief and half wishing he could meet a new friend. There’s a young couple with a pair of restless kids who can’t stay seated longer than a minute, an old husband and wife tucked into a two-person booth, three men and a woman side by side at the chrome-rimmed counter, and some teenagers hanging out on the other side of the place. None of them pay him any attention.
Two men wearing black knit masks over their faces dart into the diner, each of them leading with a gun. Sam freezes in his seat, watching in disbelief as they split up to cover the room.
The man in a long-sleeved navy blue T-shirt moves into the more heavily populated section of the diner and shouts, “Everybody take out your wallets. Now!”
The second man, wearing a dark red T-shirt under his jacket, goes up to the counter and points his gun at the first employee he sees. “Open the register! Open it!”
The blonde waitress with big hair hurries to the cash register positioned at the right end of the counter and tries to obey, hands twitching and eyes panicked. She fails at her first attempt.
“Hurry up!” Red Tee yells, steel revolver gleaming in the white light of the ceiling bulbs.
The register drawer clicks and slides open, and the waitress yanks stacks of bills out of their compartments and drops them on the countertop.
“Put the money in the bag! Put it in the fucking bag!”
She scrambles for the cash with one hand, then shoves it into the cloth bag Red Tee slid onto the countertop. He snatches the bag away from her and passes it to his accomplice, who holds it in front of the family with kids.
“Put your wallets in the fucking bag and pass it on,” Blue Tee says to them. “Now!”
One of the children starts to cry, pink-faced and whimpering.
A boy sitting at the table of teenagers bolts for the door, but Red Tee gets hold of the hood on his sweatshirt and yanks him back.
“Where the fuck are you going?” Red Tee yells, wrapping his free arm around the boy’s neck and pressing his gun into the boy’s head. “Huh?”
One of the teen girls yelps.
Sam stands up and makes for Red Tee, plucking his badge off his belt as he goes. His pulse races, waves of adrenaline washing through him. He’s not thinking, his body drawn to the trouble like a piece of metal to a magnet.
“Hey, hey,” he says, too soft-spoken for the circumstance. He holds the badge in his hand, so everyone can see it. “Just calm down. The kid’s not going anywhere. Send him back to his seat, and you and your pal can get out of here.”
“A cop, huh?” Red Tee says, arm still wrapped around the teenager’s neck, the gun unrelenting against his skull. “We got us a fucking cop in here.”
Blue Tee glances over at Sam, still following the bag of money around his section of the diner as it changes hands.
“Where’s your gun, asshole?” Red Tee says to Sam.
“Let the boy go,” Sam replies. “You got your money. You don’t have to hurt anyone.”
Red Tee stares at him through the eyeholes in his mask, silent for a long beat, then pushes the teenager away from him. He points his gun at Sam’s chest.
“He don’t even have a fuckin’ gun,” says Blue Tee, the bag of money in his hand. “Don’t be stupid. Let’s fuckin’ go.”
Sam’s standing with his hands up in front of him, badge in the left.
Red Tee doesn’t budge, staring him down with the revolver.
“I said, let’s go,” Blue Tee barks.
“Fuck this cop,” says Red Tee as he cocks back the hammer on his revolver.
BANG!
The right half of his skull blows apart in a spray of blood, bone, and brain. He drops to the floor with his gun still in hand. A few of the women scream, and Sam flinches at the noise, covering his head with his arms. His ears start to ring, and instantly, he smells the familiar burnt scent of the fired round.
A tall man who Sam didn’t notice earlier saunters down the walkway splitting the diner in half, aiming a pistol at Blue Tee. He’s lean and long-limbed, a wavy lock of dark hair hanging over his forehead, eyes gray and hard as stone. He’s wearing a pair of cowboy boots.
“What the fuck? You motherfucker!” Blue Tee yells, looking at his dead accomplice bleeding on the linoleum. He aims his own gun at the stranger.
“I wouldn’t if I were you,” the stranger says, his voice dark and slow like raw maple syrup. He has an accent that could be Texas or Mid-South. “This cop is going to call his buddies now. The sooner you get, better chance you have of not being found. Or I can kill you. Save them the trouble of chasing after you.”
Blue Tee looks at him, hesitating, the bag of money still clutched in his hand.
The stranger blinks at him.
Blue Tee runs out of the diner.
Sam follows him, hearing the engine of a vehicle start before he makes it outside. He watches a pickup truck squeal out of the parking lot, southbound on the road. The red taillights glow and fade into the night.
Sam only contemplates hopping into his truck and pursuing Blue Tee for a second before going back into the diner. His nerves are frayed. Somebody, a woman or a kid, is crying.
The stranger hasn’t moved, still holding his gun at his side. He looks at Sam, unruffled, dark eyes slanted. “What’s a sheriff’s deputy doing without his gun?” he says.
Sam swallows and doesn’t answer. The truth would sound stupid.
The stranger looks over at the blonde waitress cowering behind the counter. “Better call 911,” he says to her.
She nods and picks up the old landline phone attached to the wall near the kitchen doorway. When she starts talking to the emergency operator, her voice sounds like it’s been shredded through a grater, high-pitched and borderline hysterical.
The stranger makes for the door, stepping over Red Tee’s corpse in his cowboy boots as if the dead man’s a puddle of spilt milk. He tucks his gun into the holster on the back of his waistband and passes Sam without another word or look.
“I’m Deputy Sam Roswell with the Yavapai County Sheriff’s Department,” Sam says to the room. “I need everybody to stay where you are until help arrives.”
He turns around and follows the stranger outside.
“Hey,” he says. “You’re going to have to stay and give a statement.”
The stranger swivels around on his heel to face Sam. “That so?”
“Yeah. You just killed someone.”
“You saw what happened,” the stranger says. “Tell whoever needs to know yourself.”
“I’m not the one who fired the lethal round. Stay put, sir. What’s your name?”
The stranger pauses. “Montgomery. Clarke.”
“I’m Deputy Roswell. Sam.”
Sirens suddenly whine in the distance, and they turn their heads toward the sound. Sam glances at the diner entrance but doesn’t see anyone inside trying to leave.
“I’m going to need you to hand over your weapon,” he says to Montgomery.
Montgomery looks at him in silence for a second, then takes his gun out of the holster and gives it to Sam, holding the weapon by the barrel. Sam takes it with a handkerchief in his hand.
The two men stand there in silence for a minute or two, as the sirens grow louder, the police and ambulance drawing near.
“Shouldn’t you go back inside and keep everybody under control?” Montgomery says.
“Would you come with me if I did?”
“You’re the one with the gun now.”
Sam stays quiet at that. Montgomery’s pistol is still warm. He can feel the heat of it through the handkerchief against his palm.
“Thank you,” Sam says quietly.
Montgomery’s gray eyes slide over to him with a hint of curiosity. His face remains inscrutable.
“For saving my life,” Sam clarifies.
Montgomery looks away again. “Don’t mention it.”
Maryann Kafka (verified owner) –
Sam Roswell has moved to Prescott and is a deputy for the Yavapai County Sheriffs Department. He’s making a new start for himself. He finds himself lonely and would really like to make a new friend. He misses the connection that he had with his wife, especially the evening companionship. Even though she was a good woman something was amiss and a now a year later they are divorced.
Montgomery Clarke is a true cowboy and justice for him is the cowboy way. He’s done some traveling and worked some ranches. After four years he’s settled in Skull Valley and is a part-time ranch hand for the Barbee Ranch. He has a small place but that doesn’t mean this is where he’ll stay forever. He likes working on the ranch, he doesn’t have a social life and doesn’t care, and he’s very much a loner. He was once married to AnnaLee, but he couldn’t give her what she deserved, but he still considers her his best friend.
While at the Dog Bowl Diner having dinner alone, Sam looks around and has thoughts of having a new friend. His thoughts are interrupted when he finds himself in the midst of a robbery. Sam has to make a judgement call, when one of the robbers hold a teenage boy at gun point. Sam always had a rule for himself when he’s not on duty, he doesn’t carry his gun. He’s not even in uniform, all he has is his badge. One of the robbers want’s to take the money and leave but the other only sees “cop”. Before Sam can even make a move a shot rings out and the robber is down. All Sam sees is the tall stranger with a gun in his hand. In all the commotion the other robber get’s away. The stranger Montgomery Clarke just saved Sam’s life.
Two weeks go by and Sam sees Montgomery at the Bird Cage Saloon drinking alone. He thought about Montgomery every day since the robbery. He even got Montgomery’s information after he disappeared without a goodbye. They start to talk about the incident that took place at the diner, right up until the saloon closing. Sam thanks Montgomery for saving his life and watches as Montgomery walks away.
A week later Sam makes his way to Skull Valley to seek out Montgomery. He want’s Montgomery’s help to find the other robber. But more than that he want’s a friendship with Montgomery. Before Sam leaves, Montgomery invites him to the Barbee Ranch. There’s a connection that they make as they start to open up and share their personal lives. No matter the trouble and danger they’re in, their friendship grows.
Sam offers a companionship that Montgomery really needs. With his needs, the rustic cowboy has fears, of what others think, judgement from others and Sam leaving him.
Then Montgomery decides to cut ties with Sam. Is it all too late or can they salvage a friendship and something more?
This is my third time reading “Lone Star on a Cowboy Heart. I first read it in 2016, and it was and still is one of my favorite stories worth reading over again. At the time this was originally written it was considered by some, not be romantic, because it was without physical sex between two men. My thought is that many didn’t understand the meaning of asexual. Now that this story has been revised, I think both stories are romantic in their own way.
Marie S. Crosswell is amazing at expressing what is important to Sam and Montgomery and what they both need for their special relationship. The author brought out the worry and sadness in Montgomery as he struggles to express his fears and what he truly needs. The fear of being alone and never finding someone to understand him is heartbreaking. He want’s to share of Sam’s life and never be judged by society for what they have. As for the crime aspect of the story, I thought it wasn’t needed at one time. Now that I’ve read the story again, it is important to the story as it shows Montgomery as Sam’s life saver.
There’s a few other characters that make this story interesting: Chief Jethro Beauty, of the Yavapai tribe and Tribal Police Force, whose always willing to give Sam advice. Lauren Baker, Sam’s friend. Shannon who’s helped by Montgomery.
I highly recommend “Lone Star on a Cowboy Heart” by Marie S. Crosswell. Sam Roswell and Montgomery Clarke are two unforgettable and emotionally powerful characters.