Page 1 of Marrying the Billboard Cowboy

1

The crisp November air nipped at Kaitlyn McCallum’s cheeks as she rounded the corner to enter her apartment complex, grocery bags weighing down each arm. It wasn’t much, but it would get them through a few more days, if she skimped on her own portions like usual.

A knot formed in her stomach when she saw a mound of their possessions—Stetson’s tattered teddy bear perched atop a familiar quilt—piled against the snow-dusted sidewalk. Her heart hammered against her ribcage, a silent drum roll to the unfolding disaster.

Kaitlyn set down the bags, her breath forming clouds in the frigid air, and rushed to the door. Her key met the lock, now shiny and new, refusing to turn. She jiggled the handle, desperation seeping into her movements, but the door held firm. Her landlord had followed through on his threat; the eviction was no longer just a piece of paper.

Her heart sank. As hard as she had tried, this was the last straw. The house of cards they’d been living under had finally collapsed. Between the overdue rent, unpaid credit cards, andthe shady personal loan she’d taken last spring, they were officially out of options.

“Mommy?” She sucked in a breath, pulling herself from the brink of tears.

“Why is Mr. Fluffles outside?” Stetson’s voice quivered as he hopped off the school bus, his small frame dwarfed by the backpack slung over his shoulders.

“Hey, champ.” Kaitlyn forced a smile, scooping him up in a hug that pulled tight around her heart. How could she find the words to explain what was happening? “We’re... we’re having an adventure.”

“Like camping?” His eyes, so much like hers, searched for reassurance.

“Exactly like camping,” she whispered, brushing a kiss atop his head, willing the tremble from her lips. Her six-year-old son deserved better.

With Stetson’s hand clutched in hers, Kaitlyn reclaimed what belongings she could carry and led them away from the apartment that was no longer theirs. She cranked the heat in her small car, willing away the chill brought on by the weather and the dread that was pooled low in her belly.

Blowing out a heavy breath, she drove to the nearest women’s shelter, the evening lights flickering to life in shop windows, a stark contrast to the darkness settling within her.

“Please,” Kaitlyn pleaded with the shelter volunteer, “just for the night. We have nowhere else to go.”

The woman behind the counter, face etched with lines of sympathy, shook her head. “I’m sorry, our beds filled up hours ago. There’s another storm coming. Everyone’s looking for a place to stay.”

Kaitlyn’s shoulders drooped. “It’s okay. Thanks anyway.”

The volunteer grimaced. “Look… If you’ve got a car, you can park it around back in our lot. The police monitor every hour, so at least you’ll be safe.”

Kaitlyn nodded, swallowing hard against the lump in her throat. The warmth of the shelter taunted her as she turned back to the cold. Stetson’s grip tightened around her fingers, his trust anchoring her even as the weight of their situation threatened to pull her under.

“Okay, buddy,” Kaitlyn said, her voice a soft murmur only for Stetson, “let’s find our campsite for tonight.”

As they stepped out into the snowfall that began to erase their footprints, Kaitlyn promised herself, for Stetson’s sake, she’d find a way out of this. She had to.

A few hours later, the upholstery creaked as Kaitlyn shifted, careful not to wake Stetson. Moonlight filtered through the clouded windows of their aging sedan, casting a quilt of shadows over the boy’s slumbering form. He lay curled in the passenger seat, a small fortress of blankets piled upon him, his breaths steady and unaware of their dismal surroundings. Kaitlyn reached out, her fingers brushing a lock of dark hair from his forehead.

“God, please keep him safe,” she whispered into the chill, her breath fogging the glass beside her in the early November Denver night. “I’ll do anything.”

She leaned back against the seat, arms wrapped tight around herself, the cold seeping through her coat, even with the heater limping along. The dashboard clock blinked a silent march toward dawn, each minute stretching longer than the last. Her eyelids drooped, heavy with the day’s defeats, but sleep wouldn’t come.

The shelter volunteer let them in for breakfast, and she helped Stetson get dressed for school in the bathroom, pursing her lips at the way the soles of his tennis shoes peeled awayfrom the tops. Just another thing on the long list of expenses she couldn’t cover. She dropped him at the door of the school, since the bus wouldn’t know to pick him up here, and headed to work.

The greasy diner wasn’t even close to high class, but they’d been the only place she could find willing to let her work only the hours while Stetson was in school. She’d spent the entire summer without work, unable to find someone to watch Stetson that didn’t take her entire paycheck. And that was after she’d missed two weeks when they’d both succumbed to a nasty bout of the flu during the spring.

Hence the eviction notice. School had been in session for three months, and she hadn’t even made a dent in the stack of bills that had piled up in the last year. They’d been barely scraping by before that as it was.

The clang of dishes and the sizzle of frying eggs filled the diner as Kaitlyn wove between tables, the soles of her worn shoes sticking slightly to the tiled floor. She balanced a tray laden with steaming cups of coffee, her movements automatic as she served breakfast to the customers. Each smile she mustered for her tables did little to mask the shadows beneath her eyes—a telltale sign of a night spent trying to guard her son from the world’s harshness.

“More cream, hon?” she offered, her voice carrying the practiced lilt of hospitality.

“Thank you, dear,” replied the elderly man she saw regularly.

She moved on, refilling mugs and scribbling orders onto her notepad. Her mind wandered, despite her best efforts, to the uncertainty awaiting her at the end of her shift. But she pushed those thoughts away, focusing instead on the next table, the next order—the next moment that would keep her afloat. Praying for a miracle, perhaps an extra generous tip that would reassure her that everything would be okay.

A brief respite found Kaitlyn in the corner of the kitchen, her fingers massaging the fatigue from her temples. The hum of the refrigerator and the distant din of conversation from the diner filtered through the air, mingling with the aroma of a freshly brewed pot of coffee.

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