Aurora's Cowboy Daddy. Melinda Barron
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and dinner rolls the size of dessert plates. All of the brothers were taking a seat, and she imagined those were their assigned places. Holt led her to the end of the table where he let go of her arm and pulled out the chair next to the empty seat at the head of the table. She sat down, and once he’d pushed in her chair he took the head.
Austin came in with his platter, then placed steaks on plates, starting with her. After he’d distributed one to each person he set the platter in the middle of the table. There were still seven steaks there. Aurora stared at the meat on her plate, and wondered how she was going to eat it all at once; it looked to be at least fifteen ounces.
“Reed, it’s your turn,” Holt said.
Aurora looked up to see all of them bowing their heads right before Reed started to pray. After he’d asked God to bless the food and said thanks for the blessings they had, they reached for the food and started to pass around the bowls. Once she’d taken a little of everything she stared at her food; she felt full just staring at it. She glanced around the table to where five men were eating. When she glanced at Holt he was staring at her.
“Please don’t tell me you’re looking for steak sauce.”
The clatter of cutlery and plates came to a halt.
“You want steak sauce?” Austin asked, obviously offended. “Without tasting it?”
“No, I was wondering how I was going to eat all this,” Aurora said.
Austin let out a breath of relief, and they all went back to eating.
“Just eat what you want,” Holt said. “You don’t have to sit here until your plate is clean. Not tonight anyway.”
Aurora turned her gaze to him. The stern look on his face made her mouth drop open. Then, to her surprise, he winked at her. He was flirting with her, at least she thought that was what he was doing. It had been forever since it had happened, more than ten years. She wasn’t sure how to respond. Should she wink back, or just stare at him like she was doing now?
Their gazes locked, and he didn’t give her any indication of how she should act now. Luckily, Austin spoke up.
“But don’t forget there is dessert.” She turned to see the handsome young man waving a fork in her direction. “Chocolate trifle that I worked on last night. It has been chilling all day.”
“Austin’s our master chef,” Hawk said. “Which is good because he can’t shoe a horse worth a damn.”
“Uh-hum.” Holt cleared his voice, and she saw him glaring at his brother.
“Oh, sorry for the language, Aurora.” Hawk lifted his tea glass in her direction. “My apologies.”
Words failed her, again, so she just nodded in Hawk’s direction. Then she looked at Holt. He didn’t wink this time, which meant he wasn’t happy with her nod.
To keep from talking, and looking around, Aurora picked up her knife and fork and started to eat. She moaned at the taste of the steak, and the twice-baked potatoes. The dinner conversation was sparse, and when she’d finally had enough she put down her fork. Her new friends were reloading their plates.
“Are you finished?” Holt asked. After she’d nodded, he said, “Maybe you could tell us your story now while we finish our meal.”
“Murder is not exactly dinner conversation,” she said.
“We can handle it,” Hawk said. “Plus, we don’t want to ruin that delicious dessert Austin has waiting for us. And another thing, is it murder when it’s self-defense?”
Austin didn’t respond, and neither did the other three.
Finally, Wyatt said, “What were you convicted of?”
“Involuntary manslaughter,” she said. “I received a three-year sentence. I was out in six months, and on parole for the remainder. They said I didn’t have to finish my sentence because of good behavior.”
“Go ahead and tell us,” Holt said.
“Consider us a jury of six, even though you’ve already been hired,” Wyatt said. She could tell by the tone of his voice he wasn’t happy with that fact. That’s why he’d glared at her.
“I killed my husband because he threatened to kill me,” Aurora said. Even after all these years it was still hard to talk about it. Her hands shook just a little, so she picked up her tea and took a sip.
“Tell it like a story,” Holt said. “Don’t just throw out little facts. Tell it like you’re telling a ghost story to friends sitting around a campfire.”
She wanted to tell him she’d never done that, but instead she cast her mind back to her first days in prison. She’d told the story to new cellmates, and during group therapy sessions. After taking another drink from her tea she started.
It was March 15th, the Ides of March. She hadn’t made that connection until someone brought it up in prison one time.
“I was thinking about what to cook for dinner,” she said. “Ben worked on an oil rig below Lubbock. He worked long, hard hours and he was usually in a bad mood when he came home. I always made sure I had cold beer in the fridge for him, but that day it just wasn’t cold enough for him, even though it had been in there all day.”
She remembered her former brother-in-law, Stan, testifying at her trial.
“She killed him because he wanted a beer.” He’d pointed a finger at her. “That was the only reason. There was never any abuse. She made that up.”
Aurora took another sip. “I decided on pork chops, but I didn’t have any thawed. I had them soaking in cold water when he came home, early. He didn’t tell me why. I found out later he’d gotten into a fight with another roughneck and they’d come to fisticuffs and the two of them had been suspended for three days, without pay.”
She stopped speaking for a moment as she remembered the pissed off look on his face when he’d come into the house. He started yelling at me. “You’re just now starting dinner? I’m fucking hungry, get it done.” He’d taken a beer out of the refrigerator and popped it open. Then he’d thrown it against the wall and said, “This isn’t even cold. You’re fucking worthless!”
“That’s when he backhanded me and I fell.” Aurora picked up her tea once more. It was then she realized the noise of forks hitting plates had stopped. She glanced around the table and saw all six Coleman brothers were looking at her.
Ben said, “I should just fucking kill you and be done with it. I’ll find me another bitch to fuck, one that probably knows how to cook, and gives better,” she cleared her throat and said, “head.”
That’s not exactly what he’d said. It had been far cruder than that, but she didn’t want to say that in front of these men. She took another drink and fought back tears.
“Go on,” Holt said, his voice gentle. “We’re all friends here. Remember what we do. We rescue women who have been abused, just like you were.”
Aurora cleared her throat and continued, “He kicked me a few times, then went to the refrigerator for another beer. That’s when I ran for the bedroom.”
Now she closed her eyes and repeated what he’d said, “You going for the gun? Less work for me. Make sure it’s loaded, you cunt.”
“I hadn’t planned on killing him. I hadn’t even gone for the gun. I had dialed 911 by the time he got there. He’s the one who pulled the gun from the nightstand drawer. I realized what he was going to do, so I threw the phone down and fell to the floor just as the gun went off, or I should say just as he shot the gun.”
Her hands were shaking now as the memory of the boom of the shot filled her mind. “I could hear the dispatcher screaming, shots fired, shots fired, Aurora are you there? Talk to me. Shots fired, shots fired.”
She