Lena's Fall & Colt's Magic (Black Hills Series) Read online

  Spearfish Canyon Road. Lena knew some of the winding curves of the highway. It was a beautiful landmark and a great representative of the Black Hills in all her glory. It was light enough to see where they were headed and Declan watched carefully for their exit. She kept quiet about knowing the area. It was interesting and exciting to see what he had planned.

  They pulled into a parking space and he turned off the engine. It was a cool, early spring morning. Steam rose off the water to create a haze, dimly glowing with the soft light.

  “Ready?” Declan asked, pulling the keys from the ignition and taking off his seat belt. Lena smiled, following his lead and getting out from the truck. He met at the front and took her hand in his, threading their fingers. Lena followed him into the mist and the tall, tall trees.

  It was quite a walk, some uneven ground and some boardwalk bridges. The mist made the journey seem more like a fairy land than the Black Hills. The looming walls of limestone twisted and turned with the flow of the water.

  “It’s beautiful here.” Lena smiled, welcoming the dueling of finality as well as beginning.

  “Breathtaking.” Declan added, a look of wonder wreathing his personality. He tried to locate the birds that sang in the trees and chuckled when they accidentally scared a few that were feeding on the ground. The further back they strolled, the clearer the air became and bits of ice still clung to the shadows. It was amazing to see how the morning sunshine reflected on the glory around them. The air was tangy with earth and moist from the mist. Roughlock Falls came into view and Lena was absolutely devoid of words to describe the grandeur that only nature can create. The roar of the water drown out every worry she felt as Declan wrapped his arm around her shoulder and brought her into him. She shivered from the cold as well as the splendor of the moment.

  “I wanted to bring you here. I want you to remember this place and what I have to say to you.” Declan began, turning slightly into her so that she could hear him clearly. “The past doesn’t matter to me. The here, the now and whatever the future holds is where I want to live.” Declan was searching for the words to tell her how he felt. “I promise to walk every road with you and to support you when you don’t think you can continue. I promise to share my worries and my fears with you.” He slid his hand along her jaw and ran his thumb just under her ear. “I promise to love you for the rest of my life.”

  Lena leaned in and pressed her lips to his. She silently sealed those heartfelt promises with a kiss. When she pulled back, she looked up into his dark eyes. “I love you, Declan.” His smile started out small and then it broadened until he fairly glowed with happiness. Lena could only match his. Her kisses stopped his mouth from saying more. He probably wanted to propose this morning, hoping to secure her hand and joy for the rest of their lives. He may have wanted to get down on bended knee and give her a ring. Lena wasn’t ready to accept the treasured position as Declan’s wife yet; but she would. She knew it deep down inside her as she knew without his love her life would hold no meaning. She had finally learned what love really was and she had no intention of ever giving it up.

  Black Hills Series:

  Colt’s Magic

  A Companion Novella

  to the

  Black Hills Series

  A.C. Wilson

  CHAPTER ONE

  Colt Cavanaugh was a reasonable man, or so he had always thought. This contract business with his manager, Rod Hampton was an absolute mess. On-The-Fly Records wanted Colt to create his first greatest hits album, but they wouldn’t add anything new. Rod preached that the market was saturated with new wanna-be artists, who couldn’t hack it. Never mind that they had one hit wonders that were being played over and over again. Air time was valuable as were the radio jockeys that created the playlists.

  “Rod, I don’t want to hear about it today.” Colt ground out, handing his guitar off to one of the technicians. “I haven’t been in this business long enough to create a greatest hits album.”

  “Is that what’s bothering you? The fact that you’re too young to be a big hitter?” Rod asked, his grey mustache twitching under his thin nose. Colt had this theory that Rod dyed his mustache and hair to look older. Apparently to Rod, older meant that he was wiser. Colt wasn’t so sure on that.

  “Today, you are bothering me.” Colt looked straight at his manager and shook his head.

  “You hired me to manage your career, and I’m saying this is a good move. It will get you back out into the spotlight where you need to be if you are going to keep paying your band and your crew.” Rod looked smugly at Colt, knowing he was playing on his client’s top priority. In the beginning, Colt was always paid last, if he was paid at all. It was the way he ran his business still, although it was easier on the pocketbook if there was padding.

  “I hired you to listen to me and figure out how best to get me what I want in this industry.” Colt adjusted his cowboy hat, settling it lower on his eyes. They glinted like newly minted steel and some women had even told him that they reminded him of a wolf. Lobo, they called him. “You haven’t been listening to me in a while, Rod. It may be time to go our separate ways.”

  The stocky, pinch-faced man took a step back with his hands raised defensively in front of him. “Now wait a minute, I am only looking out for you. You can’t get out of this contract with On-The-Fly for another year. They own anything that you create and give to the air waves.”

  Colt walked off the front of the stage and down the stairs to the center aisle of the Hawthorne Music Center in Atlanta, Georgia. It was the last stop on his Kickin’ It Down tour. If Colt said that he was more than ready to be finished on the road that would be a gross understatement. He was ready to head home to his ranch in Montana and he had invited his son, Drew to come visit on spring break. He was so glad that he and Nora, Drew’s mother, had been able to work out a visitation schedule.

  “I need some time to think about this, Rod. Stall the company for as long as you can. I need a break.” Colt threw over his shoulder as he walked towards the exit. “I really just need a break.” Colt murmured to himself as he stepped out into the southern sunshine and its humidity.

  The building had been barricaded off for tonight’s concert, but it hadn’t kept die-hard fans from camping out for the last couple of days. Colt shook his head at the occasional flashing lights of a police car. When he began his career in Nashville, singing every night in one of the many bars, Colt had been so delighted to even be noticed. He could remember what a shock it was to hear that fans were waiting to see him and it had gone from small theaters to state fairs and then to large outdoor arenas that held thousands and thousands of people. Colt took a deep breath through his nose and let it out through his mouth. Today he wished he could go back to those small, face to face venues that allowed him to be the artist he wanted to be.

  “Beat, I don’t need you right now.” Beat’s real name is Gary Clive, but he had been Colt’s drummer since they had launched Colt Cavanaugh and the Fleet Street Band. Beat fit the man so much better than Gary.

  “I didn’t say anything, did I?” Beat was in his mid-thirties, just like Colt and he had a family to think about as well. Beat didn’t pressure Colt the way the other band members would for information or the skinny on future plans. No, Beat would quietly offer unsolicited advice on any subject he saw fit to sanction and Colt would somehow see the merit in his friend’s words. It drove Colt crazy, even though he appreciated the wisdom.

  “If you said anything any louder, my head would split.” Colt hissed, knowing his anger was misplaced, but not able to keep it inside. Beat nodded his head as if he understood the whole thing. Colt would have liked to think Beat didn’t know a darn thing, but somehow the man always found out everything. Colt pressed the button to open the doors of his tour bus. They swung open and he climbed up the stairs as if the weight of the world were on his shoulders. Beat followed him inside and closed the doors. The interior was remarkably quiet and it soothed some of his frayed nerves.
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  “Beer?” Beat asked, looking through the small fridge. It was two in the afternoon. Colt shrugged and held out his hand. Beat handed him a cold, shiny can and grimaced. “Who did the shopping this time?”

  Colt cracked the can open and heard the ksshh sound. “Jason, I think.”

  “I can tell.” It was all Beat said before opening his own beer and drinking out of it. Colt leaned back on the small couch, avoiding the windows and closing his eyes. He just needed to get through tonight. Then he would take two weeks to figure out what his next move would be.

  “I got some news today.” His buddy said from the captain’s chair near the door.

  Colt kept his eyes closed. “That good, huh?” The teasing question was left hanging as the silence wrapped around the two men again. Colt wasn’t sure Beat was going to say anything else and he was too preoccupied to pry.

  “Shannon’s pregnant.”

  It landed like a stone onto the weight Colt was already carrying. It was a big day for Beat and his wife, Shannon. She was expecting their first child and instead of Colt being happy for his longtime friend, he felt the pressure on the decision he had to make.

  “That is some news.” Colt answered rather belatedly. He took a long drink of his beer and then set it aside.

  “It isn’t the greatest timing, I know. It just happened.” Beat reflected, his comments more internally than to Colt. Shifting uncomfortably on the couch, Colt took off his hat and tossed it onto the cushion beside him.

  “You’ll be a great dad, Beat.” Colt meant that. Only a year ago did Colt find out that he was a father and after the smoke cleared, he loved being a dad. His only regret was that he hadn’t been in Drew’s life from the very beginning.

  “I want to be a good father, Colt.” Beat looked contemplatively at his friend and longtime band mate. He needed to say something, Colt could tell by the furrow of his brow. “I can’t come back out on the next tour. I want to be home every night with Shannon and our baby.”

  There it was. It was inevitable, he supposed. Not everyone could stay out on tour for months at a time and not miss being a part of their family. Colt wasn’t too keen on it anymore either, but it paid the bills. Then again when had the music been about the money?

  “I will start looking around for another drummer.” Colt sighed, leaning his head back against the cushion. “You’re doing the right thing.” Colt tried to reassure Beat and possibly himself as well. It wasn’t as if the thought of retiring hadn’t crossed his mind too.

  “It’s hard to leave the band, man. We’ve had some damn good times over the years.” Beat’s voice was pained, reminiscent of the past. Colt understood that. “What if I can’t be the father I want to be? What if I’m no good at it?”

  “There’s better things to come, Beat. I totally understand the scary feeling of failure, but there’s nothing like being a parent. I wish every day that I was around to hold Drew as a baby in my arms. I’d have given the whole world to do that.”

  “Yeah, but Nora didn’t give you a choice back then. It’s her fault for keeping your son a secret.” Beat put his beer can on the floor and crushed it with his boot.

  “You know I used to be so mad at her, but I think the man I was when we started this band wasn’t prepared to be a father. I don’t think I would put the value on it that I do now.”

  “We were kids when we started.” Beat lifted his brow, leaning back in his chair and hitching his heels on the other chair.

  Colt nodded. “A kid raising a kid? It wouldn’t have lasted and Drew would have paid the price. Nora did me a favor and she always knew it, even if I didn’t. She let me live my dream without sacrificing her and our son.”

  “I don’t think I would be that forgiving, but you have a point. This business ages a person and a decade feels like a lifetime some days.” Beat and Colt nodded in agreement. The long hours, late nights, and hundreds of different cities made it hard to call anywhere home. Nashville had been the hub for Country music and that’s where Colt had been discovered. Now he owned his ranch in Montana, a modest house in Hot Springs, and a beach house in California. He had been blessed with ardent fans, fantastic songs, and even better friends.

  “Well since tonight is your last night on tour, we better do it up right.” Colt smiled, although he could feel that it didn’t reach his eyes. Beat’s lips turned up marginally and he nodded. Colt couldn’t shake that tonight would be the end to a few things, he just didn’t know what exactly.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The heavy smell of beer, sweat, and stale air met Colt as he walked up on stage. The crowd’s cheer was deafening as he slid the monogrammed guitar strap over his head and shoulder. The instrument felt strange tonight, like an appendage that had been damaged and was now awkward to use. Turning toward Beat on the drum kit in the back, Colt searched the man’s eyes. They were the senior members of the Fleet Street Band; the only two left from the beginning. Beat kept the music moving, but his eyes met Colt’s with an understanding his buddy had not thought to find there. The world had intruded and it was ruining Colt’s music.

  The crowd’s noise behind him faded into one unrecognizable sound and Colt pushed it away. He fought to get ahold of this whole production before he had mutiny on his hands and no one wanted that.

  One last time. One last time. Colt chanted in his head as he plugged in his guitar, adjusted his ear piece and stepped to the microphone. He couldn’t see the crowd standing in front of the stage, nearly thirty feet away. The flashing lights of gold, green, and blue nearly blinded him and he had to look down at the stage. Beat started the introduction, whipping the fans into a frenzy as Colt’s first number one hit began to play.

  First Time Gone had been about him leaving home, leaving a lover behind and doing whatever it took to move up the ladder. Colt started the song. The words were etched into his brain and they rolled off his tongue in a bittersweet echo of times now passed. Of course the song had been about leaving his beautiful Nora for the crazies and strangers of Nashville. Essentially he had traded one dream for another without knowing exactly what he was giving up. Ironic now, wasn’t it? Colt had written this song with Beat after a bar concert turned into drunken brawl. Just two bachelors kicking it in a tiny basement apartment with a deaf old lady upstairs, who didn’t mind music late into the night?

  “Fantastic concert tonight!” Rod hooted from behind the stage where security had gathered to walk the band to their tour bus and personal vehicles. Colt shrugged off his manager’s hand and was thankful for Beat pushing him by.

  “Shows what the heck you know.” Colt mumbled as he was pressed like a sandwich in between four burly security guards. The extra patrol seemed like a waste of everyone’s time. No one had ever tried to harm the band and Colt was pretty sure those sassy, half-dressed girls were no threat. Although tonight he was just willing to step out of character enough to take one of those girls home.

  “Don’t even think about it, old friend.” Beat warned in Colt’s ear. “She will not fix what is going on here.”

  Colt turned his head with a partially surprised expression. “She would be who, exactly?” Really he was surprised that Beat had seen through to his brain and deduced the pathway it wanted to take.

  “She. Whomever you were thinking of selecting tonight to make trouble disappear.” Beat rolled his eyes. “Trust me, trouble will be there in the morning with big round eyes and a wicked smile ready to clue those tabloids in on what you do tonight.”

  Colt scoffed. “You’re such a pessimist.”

  Beat shook his head. “Don’t give them any more fodder to help push you into retirement.” He wanted to say more but the security detail had slowed down and bunched up. The guards weren’t paid well enough not to say something to someone willing to pay more for juicy tidbits. Once the line started moving again, Colt shook his head at his friend.

  “What makes you think I won’t roll over and play dead?” It was Beat’s turn to shake his head. “Maybe I want to reti
re.”

  “Do you, really? Or is it just being tired and burnt out that’s making you talk this way?” The man had a good point. Exhaustion and anger made a person say things he might not mean.

  “I only know that it can’t keep going this way.” Colt wasn’t sure he could tell Beat how he felt and how overwhelming the whole business had become. It wasn’t all about the music anymore. It was about the sales, the position of your songs on the charts, the number of comments on a social media post, the high dollar endorsements and all the other nonsense that could make or break an artist. Somehow the basis of pure talent had been waxed over by things that any fool could do. It was really disheartening to see.

  “You may be right about that, but tripping now is not going to make anything better.” Beat sympathized. Colt could see the years of friendship they shared and it gave Beat a better perspective than almost anyone. Nora might be the only other one to see him so clearly.

  The security guys stopped at the traveling bus and Colt moved towards the door. Beat was flying out tonight for Tennessee in two hours.

  “Good luck, man. Keep in touch.” Colt extended his hand and Beat took it into his own and shook it.

  “Will do. Let me know when you get back to Nashville and we’ll have a few beers for old times.”

  “My treat and if you get up to Montana, look me up.”

  The guys shared one more glance and they went their separate ways. Colt moved onto the bus and waited for Tim, his driver to appear. The fans would have to clear out before the bus could leave and it took time to tear down the concert lights, sound equipment and to put away the instruments. He dug around in the pocket of his jeans as he started to undress for a shower. He checked his text messages and saw one from Drew. Instantly Colt smiled; his son could do that to him.