The Alberta Adventures Chance's Story by Nancy M Bell

 

To learn more about Nancy's work please click on the cover.

I am currently working on the last book in the Alberta Adventures. So far the series has dealt with rescues of one sort or another.  This last novel is about Laurel's friend Chance Cullen. He's been a part of all the stories so far and I think he deserves his own story since I've dragged him through hell and back again. In Chance's Way (working title) he struggles with his demons and coming to terms with the sort of man his father is. Here is the first bit of the Chapter One. As you can see, Chance has more than a few things to come to terms with, including his seemingly unrequited love for Laurel Rowan.

Chance Cullen stood on the high school steps, having just turned in his graduation robes. He glanced at the certificate in his hands and sighed. What difference does a high school diploma mean when I don’t even know what I want to do? The parking lot was awash in colour, the girls in their fancy dresses flitted from group to group like a flock of butterflies. The thought brought a wry smile to his lips. The after grad was out at the Rowan ranch, unbidden his gaze sought out Laurel Rowan, long corn silk blonde hair twisted into some crazy up do, his sister called it. The blue of her dress was the exact colour of her eyes, not that he was likely to get close enough to her to compare the two.

Jamming his wide brimmed hat on his head Chance wended his way through the throng of students, parents and grandparents, and probably most of Pincher Creek besides. He was stopped a couple of times by friends wishing him well, but finally reached the sanctuary of his truck. Tossing his diploma onto the passenger seat, he slid into the driver’s seat. His hand hesitated in the process of starting the engine and he leaned his forearms on the steering wheel, resting his chin on them.

Without meaning to, he searched for Laurel in the crowd. With unerring accuracy, his Laurel-dar, as he liked to call it, found her standing with his sister Carly. Laurel’s parents were with the two girls and Chance’s own mother. Anna Rowan’s hair was the same spun silk colour as her daughter and Colt Rowan towered over both of them. Sally Cullen clutched at Carly’s arm and glanced toward Chance’s truck, attempting to pull her daughter away. Chance grinned, it looked like Carly was standing her ground. No doubt Mom was going to make another attempt at forcing the family together. He straightened up and grimaced. He wouldn’t be surprised if Mom hadn’t streamed the whole graduation ceremony to Dad up in prison at Bowden. Bitterness twisted his gut, like that man cared about anything but himself.

He started the truck and backed out of the spot, pretending not to see his mother making her way toward him, he turned out of the school and headed out of town. His phone buzzed in his dress shirt pocket, he pulled it free and dumped it beside the diploma on the passenger seat without checking the caller ID. There was no one he wanted to talk to right now. He drove north out of town, past the hundreds of power windmills sprouting from the rolling prairie hills. God, he hated those things. They marred the stark beauty of the land and the constant noise drove him crazy. Chance chose north on purpose. It was the opposite direction from the Rowan’s. After what happened last November, getting Laurel in danger with those bastards from the dog fight organization, Chance couldn’t look Colt Rowan in the eye, let along his wife. Mr. Rowan said he’d forgiven him, but Chance still struggled with guilt. He slammed his palm on the wheel. Dammit, dammit all to hell! The last thing in the world he ever wanted was to put Laurel in any danger.

Why did I ever listen to Dad? How did I ever convince myself that getting involved with those guys was a good idea? How fucking stupid am I? And what happened to those dogs…

Chance pulled to the side of the gravel road and rubbed at his blurred eyes. Those images would never leave him. Christ, he had nightmares every time he closed his eyes. Willing himself to force the memory of the savaged dogs and the high-pitched screams of terror drowned out and silenced by the harsh growls of the victorious dogs. Chance put his hands over his ears which only served to intensify the chaos in his mind. Flinging the door open he stumbled out into the June sunshine, rounding the front of the cab he collapsed in the tall grass at the edge of the ditch. Burying his head between his knees Chance let the emotions locked down for so long escape. It was more than he could do to hold them in check any longer. Physical pain accompanied the roar of emotions that swept through him carried on his sobbing breath. The images and sounds raging through his head were more real than the gravel biting into his hands where he clutched the ground beside him. Anything to feel anchored to something.

The sun was almost touching the horizon when the visions finally released Chance. He took a shaky breathe and scrubbed his hands over his face, grit from the road scraping his cheeks. The pain was welcome and immediate, serving to ground him in present and chase the last vestiges of the memories away. “Christ, when is this going to stop? I don’t know how much more of it I can take.” He shook his head, removed his hat and ran fingers through his damp hair. Glancing at the sun, he shoved himself to his feet. “Gotta get home and check the stock,” he muttered. Harvey Good Smoke would be at the Rowan’s party, along with his wife. They were so proud of Joey and Chance guessed they had good reason to be. Grimacing, he shoved his hat back on his head and climbed into the still open truck door.

The engine was slow to catch and Chance cursed himself for leaving the door open and running the battery down. How long was I out there sitting on the side of the road like a dead coyote? The truck finally rumbled to life, the phone on the far seat ringing at the same time. Chance closed his eyes and fought the urge to throw the thing out on the road and drive over it a time or two. Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes and picked up the phone. The caller cut off before he could decide if he wanted to answer it or not. Seven new voicemails, ten texts. Scrolling through, he ignored the call from his father. Waste of skin. Likewise, he skipped the voicemails from his mother, four of them. There were two from Carly, he grinned. She must have been desperate, his sister much preferred texting. Checking those, his grin widened, five were from Carly. A small jolt of adrenalin shot through him, the last one was from Laurel. His hand trembled as it hovered over the keys. What could he say to her, hell, what should he say to her? While he procrastinated, the phone vibrated in his hands. What the hell? Colt Rowan! Why is he calling me? Deliberating the wisdom of answering the call, Chance’s head shot up and he slammed the truck door shut. Slouching down in the seat he pulled his hat lower over his forehead. The last thing he needed right now was company.

The approaching pickup slewed to a stop beside him, the driver leaping out and wrenching Chance’s door open before he realized what was happening.

“You been drinking?” Joey Good Smoke demanded, knocking Chance’s hat off his head.

“No,” he snarled in reply. “And why the hell do you care if I was?” Chance jammed his hat back on.

“Are you kidding me? Your sister is in hysterics thinking you’ve gone and done something stupid, the Rowan’s had to call the doctor to settle your mother down.”

“They should know better than to worry about me,” Chance muttered, refusing to look at Joey.

“Yeah, they should. But for some reason they still love you. Damned if I can figure out why, the way you act.” Joey kicked the gravel in disgust. He pulled his cell out of his pocket and punched a finger on the first contact that came up.

Chance tried to shut his door, but Joey blocked it with his hip.

Whoever he was calling finally picked up. “Yeah, I found him.” A long silence. “Looks like hell, but he don’t smell like he’s been drinking.” Joey glanced at the passenger side of the cab. “No empties I can see.” Another silence. “Range Road Eleven, out near the Castle Valley campsite.” Joey pushed his hat back a bit and glared at Chance. “I’ll try,” he said.

“You’ll try what, Joey?” Chance demanded, attempting to wrest the door shut again. “You reporting to Carly?”

Joey shook his head. “Colt. He’s worried about you and he’s on his way. He told me to tell you to stay here.”

“Like hell!” Chance threw the truck into gear.

“I wouldn’t,” Joey warned him. “The cops are looking for you too. You might as well sit here and face the music.”

Chance swallowed against the dizziness that made his head float and his vision blur. “I ain’t done nothin’ wrong. Why’re the cops involved?’ He wiped a shaky hand across his mouth. “I don’t need this, for fuck’s sake.”

“Blame your mom, she was so worked up she called the RCMP before anybody could stop her.” Joey slammed a fist against the box of the truck. “Why couldn’t you just answer your God damned phone? You looking for sympathy or something? Poor Chance, all alone on grad day when we should all be celebrating. Poor misunderstood Chance. You make me sick! If it wasn’t for Carly, I swear…” Joey stepped back and slammed Chance’s door, sending a quiver through the vehicle. “You know what? Go ahead, go drive off the coulee, go drive into the river. Take your pity party somewhere else. I’ll tell Colt I couldn’t stop your from leaving. ” Joey stomped back to his truck and reversed so he was parked behind Chance.

“Fuck you,” Chance snarled and took his foot off the brake, releasing the clutch at the same time. The pickup rolled forward, the tires catching in the deep gravel at the side of the road. Chance tipped his hat back and pounded his fist against the sudden tightness in his chest. “Not now,” he muttered, hitting the gas. He clung to the wheel, driving more from instinct than anything else, while the road and hills snaked around him. Chance fought the constriction in his chest as it rose to his throat and pulled his lips back from teeth. Hang on, just hang on, almost home.

Finally, the familiar ranch gate loomed in front of him and Chance turned into the lane, barely avoiding driving off the edge of the cattle guard. He jammed his foot on the gas when the barns and shed rose up in front of him. The pickup slewed to a stop by the grain bins. On somewhat safe ground, fairly certain he was alone, Chance released the death grip on the steering wheel and leaned his forehead on it. Fighting for breath, he tried to slow the rapid breathing tearing at his lungs and twisting his gut. Sweat ran down his back, he threw his hat onto the passenger seat, leaned out the door to hurl his guts up. Make is stop or let me die. God, make it stop. What the hell is going on. God make it stop. Jumbled thoughts bumped and crowded each other in his mind.

After what seemed forever, Chance opened his eyes and raised his head. Moonlight cascaded into the cab, reflecting off the silver grain bins beside him. Raking a hand through his hair, Chance grabbed his hat and stepped out of the truck. His good shirt stuck to his back and his best boots had stains on them. He couldn’t remember how that happened. Bending over with his hands on his knees, Chance drew deep breaths into his lungs, his ribs and back protesting as he did so.

“Christ, I feel like I got dumped and stomped on. What the hell was …whatever that was? Am I going nuts or something?” He straightened up and shook his head, instantly regretting the movement. The cell buzzed from inside the truck. Wearily, he reached in and snagged it from the passenger floorboards. Carly. Chance cleared his throat and took the call.

“Yeah, Carly, what’s up?” He tried to sound normal.

“What’s up? What’s up?” Carly’s voice could have been heard by the coyotes two sections over. Chance held the phone away from his ear until the shrill sounds died down a bit.

“Carly, shut up and let me get a word in, would ya? I just didn’t feel like going out to the Rowan’s.”

“Why not, you’re part of the grad class, you were invited, and you were welcome. You know that—”

“I couldn’t…Colt…and Mrs. Rowan…after what happened with Laurel…I just couldn’t…”

“Well, you could have told someone, you could have answered your phone, your texts. Damn it, Chance! How much fun do you think I had dealing with Mom and her hysterics. Got herself so worked up she was sure you’d done something stupid.”

“I’m sorry about that Carly. I didn’t mean to cause trouble.”

“Don’t you ever think before you act? It wasn’t just me, Joey and Mister Rowan and bunch of the guys and their dads went looking for you. Then Joey finally finds you and you run off again. Idiot! Where the hell are you now?” Carly demanded, still on a roll.

Chance sighed and rubbed a hand gingerly over his sore ribs. “Tell them to call off the search, I’m at the ranch and getting ready to do chores. Tell Harvey he doesn’t have to worry about night check.”

“That’s big of you.” Sarcasm dripped off his sister’s voice.

“Look, I said I’m sorry. I’m telling you I just couldn’t do it, face everyone. Them looking sideways at me and whispering under their breath…”

“You’re imagining a lot of that, Chance. The Rowan’s are over it, Laurel’s worried about you. She wanted to go look too, but they talked her out of it.”

“Ya see! Colt wouldn’t want Laurie to find me, be alone with me, not after what happened with the dogs last fall…”

“Get over yourself, Chance! For God’s sake, you’re starting to sound like Dad. Coming up with excuses and blaming other people for your stupidity.”

“Fuck off, Carly. I’m not like Dad,” Chance growled.

“Aren’t you?” Carly snarled and ended the call.

Chance stared at the blank screen for a moment. Carly never hung up on him. Ever. “She must be really pissed.” He shoved the phone in his back pocket and headed to the house to change his clothes.  

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