The Cowboy Way Ch. 01

"Anyone of you reaches for another gun is gonna get shot right through the fucking face!" a voice rang out from the trees.

Britney looked around and saw the other men glancing around nervously at each other. Larry's eyes shifted nervously, as he tried to find the source of the gunfire.

"Now all of you, throw your weapons into the stream!" the voice ordered.

None of the men, moved, however, and another shot rang out, hitting a rotten log near one of the men on the farside of the stream, causing it to explode. That man, immediately threw his rifle into the water, with a splash. Several other splashes followed soon after as other men tossed their weapons as well, not wanting to chance getting shot.

"You, the one on top of the girl, get off her or I'll blow you off, you simple son of a bitch!"

Larry looked down at Britney, his eyes seething with rage as he stood up slowly.

"Now all of you have fifteen seconds to disappear before I open fire. And I will kill you if you fuck with me."

The men looked at each other for a moment, then turned and began run like mad men downstream as fast as they could. Britney lay still, afraid to move until she couldn't hear the men anymore. When she couldn't she sat up, slowly, shivering uncontrollably.

Looking around, she saw the man who had done the shooting, moving towards her on horseback. She recognized him, immediately as the one that had been in the field two nights ago. He still wore a long black coat and the white hat, but now he held a wicked looking semi-automatic rifle of some kind. Britney had seen the same gun in the movie Full Metal Jacket, but didn't think about it then. She wondered if he was going to be any better than the last men.

He rode right up to her, the pale horse bending its head down to stare at her as the rider dismounted, sliding his rifle into a saddle scabbard. He walked up to stand next to Britney and knelt down. She eyed him, nervously, still shivering.

"P-please," she whispered.

He took off his hat revealing short, light brown hair, and cold blue eyes. He had a short goatee and a handsome face, but none of that registered to Britney. Reaching out with a gloved hand, the rider went to take a hold of Britney's arm, but she recoiled. He paused, regarding her.

"I won't hurt you," he said, solemnly.

Britney was scared and cold, but something in his voice told her she could trust this man. Slowly, she held out her hand and he took it, gently pulling her to her feet. He towered over her as he looked down at her, her hair bedraggled and clinging to her wetly as she regarded him.

Turning back to the horse he pulled a blanket out of a bedroll and turned back to her. He opened up the flannel blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders. He guided her to stand beside the horse, then helped into the saddle. Taking the reins, he climbed lightly into the saddle behind her.

"Now, listen to me, Britney," he said into her ear. " I'm going to take you back. We have to move fast so we're going to ride. I want you to lean back against me and hold on. If we don't go fast you're going to get hypothermia. Do you understand?"

She nodded. " I understand."

The rider spurred the horse, who leaped forward in a headlong dash down the mountain, alongside the stream. Britney leaned back against the rider's rock solid upper body and without even realizing it she grabbed onto his right arm, which he had wrapped around her waist. She pulled the blanket tighter around her, desperate to get warm as the wind whipped at her.

She felt her stomach enter her throat as the horse leapt over the stream and darted into the trees. Closing her eyes she could only hear the thunder of the horse's hooves as they moved through the trees. Opening her eyes she realized they were in the field, running towards the tour buses as several people gathered around her bus turned to stare at them as they slowed, then stopped next to them.

Britney felt herself being lifted out of the saddle and carried into the bus as she finally lost consciousness.

Finally she was warm, Britney thought as she lay there under the covers, feeling absolutely marvelous. Opening her eyes she found herself in the bedroom of her tour bus, and saw Chris sitting on the seat next to the window looking out at the setting sun. He looked worn down, stressed out and tired.

"Chris," she said, as she sat up.

He turned, surprised, to see she was awake. " Hey, you okay, Britney?"

She nodded. " Yeah, I'm fine. What time is it?"

He looked at his watch. " Seven o'clock, you go on in an hour and a half."

Britney nodded.

"What happened?" he asked.

She thought a moment, trying to recall everything. Then she told him everything, about how she had gone running and gotten lost. Finding the stream, and seeing the stage, then the men attacking her. Finally she told him about the rider and how he had saved her life in more ways then one and gotten her back to the bus.

"Wow," Chris said. " You were real lucky."

"Yeah, I was," she agreed. " I better get ready to go on," she said as she got out of bed and began to get ready to go to her dressing room on the other bus.

"Listen, Britney," Chris said. " I'm sorry about last night, I just, didn't think-"

Britney help up her hand. " Chris, shut up, okay. I forgive you. You're my friend, so I'll let it go. The only thing that hurt was that I thought you knew me better than that. Let's just not talk about it anymore, okay?"

Chris nodded. " Yeah, sure," he said, then turned to go.

"Chris, one more thing," she called. " Where's the rider?"

Chris looked back at her. " I don't know, he left right after he carried you in here."

The second show that night was spectacular. It was even better than the night before. The crowd was going nuts by the end of the night when Britney walked off the stage waving and blowing kisses to her screaming fans. But unlike last night she walked back to her bus by herself, Chris had felt it wiser to leave her to her own devices and not bring up what had happened the night before.

Britney walked into her room and this time got right into the shower, just long enough to cool down and clean up. Then she dried herself off and changed into a pair of loose fitting khaki pants, sneakers and a button up flannel shirt. She dried her hair then sat down on one of the sofas in the front of the bus and opened up a magazine and began to read.

But her thoughts weren't on the material in front of her, they were on the rider. She hadn't even gotten his name and he had saved her life. Besides that he had seemed like a really nice guy, quiet, yet sure of himself. Why had he left her? Did he think of her the same as Chris did? But if he did then why hadn't he done what those other men had wanted to do to her? But as she remembered the look in his eyes as he studied her she knew he wasn't like those other men and didn't think of her the same way Chris did.

As she had these thoughts she heard the whinny of a horse and sat bolt upright. It was him, he had come back. Britney threw the magazine on the floor and walked down the steps, opened the door to the bus and stepped outside.

He was standing next to the bus, holding the reins to his horse, which had it's head down nuzzling aside the tall grass to get to the tender shoots below. The rider looked at her as she stepped off the bus and he removed his hat. Britney walked alongside the bus towards him as they regarded each other.

"You came back," she stated, her tone simple, not malignant or benign, merely even as she ran a finger along the cold metal of the bus.

He nodded. " Yes, ma'am. I had to."

She smiled as she crossed in front of him to stand next to the horse, which now seemed huge. Her hand caressed it's golden coat as it ignored her and continued to search for the choicest grass.

"You were the one the other night in the field, weren't you?" Britney asked.

He nodded. " Yes, ma'am, that was me."

She stood in front of him, looking up into his eyes. " You know my name, why don't use it?"

"I didn't know we were on a first name basis," he stated as he glanced in the other direction, registering the remaining presence of hundreds of people camped out in the separate parking lot.

"You saved my life. I think that kind of puts us on a first name basis," she said, digging her hands into her pockets.

He shook his head as he placed his hat back on his head. " I didn't save your life . . . Britney. I just helped you out of a tough spot is all," he said, glancing nervously towards the parking lot again.

She smiled at his modesty. " Okay, if that's how you want it to be. But I never did get to thank you. Can I at least do that?"

He nodded, not sure why she was asking. " Yeah, go ahead."

Britney took a step forward, taking her right hand from her pocket and placing it on his chest. Then she stood up on her tiptoes and kissed him, her lips open slightly. She felt the hair of his goatee press against her skin as she felt herself melt as he kissed her back once he regained his senses. She only held that pose for a moment, then stepped back and placed her hand back in her pocket and smiled, as he stood there dazed for a moment. The flash of a camera snapped them both out of their daze and they both looked towards the parking lot, as flash bulbs seemed to explode all around them.

"Oh no," Britney sighed. " I didn't think they would come all they way out here."

"Who are they?" he asked as he regarded the dozen or so photographers behind the fence thirty feet away, feverishly snapping off shots of he and Britney.

"Paparazzi," she replied. " They're leeches who'll take pictures of any star and sell them to magazines."

She looked back at him as he nodded and regarded the men coldly. He walked around to the saddle and swung himself easily into, the horse coming to attention as he did so. They walked up to stand next to Britney as the rider looked down at her.

"I better go, now, Britney," he explained apologetically.

She nodded. " " Oh no," Britney sighed. " I didn't think they would come all they way out here."

"Who are they?" he asked as he regarded the dozen or so photographers behind the fence thirty feet away, feverishly snapping off shots of he and Britney.

"Paparazzi," she replied. " They're leeches who'll take pictures of any star and sell them to magazines."

She looked back at him as he nodded and regarded the men coldly. He walked around to the saddle and swung himself easily into, the horse coming to attention as he did so. They walked up to stand next to Britney as the rider looked down at her.

"I better go, now, Britney," he explained apologetically.

She nodded. " Yeah, I guess," she replied, the disappointment in her voice surprising even her.

The horse tossed his head and snorted and the rider pat his neck soothingly.

"Wait," Britney called as they turned to go.

They stopped and turned, both of them looking back at her.

"What's your name?" she asked.

The rider looked down for a moment, then right back into her eyes. " My name's Ryley," he replied, then turned back in the saddle and touched his spurs to the horse, who set off across the field.

"Promise to come back tomorrow?" she called after him, but if he heard he made no indication.

Britney sighed as she watched them ride off up into the woods and out of sight. She turned back to go into the bus and at that moment she glanced over at the photographers, oozing contempt from every pore on her body. She was fuming in fact at them for breaking up that little scene with . . .Ryley.

Britney held Ryley's hands lightly as she sat in the saddle in front of him while he guided the horse down the mountain trail. Her eyes were shaded from the sun by the cowboy hat that she wore, which she had found in the wardrobe of the dressing room bus. A denim jacket managed to keep her warm, but leaning against Ryley had created a warmth within her since she had climbed into the saddle with him.

He had arrived that morning, offering to take her for a ride through the forest. Britney had eagerly accepted and gotten changed for the occasion in order to try and disguise her identity should they happen upon anyone. When they first started off Britney had been silent, but had leaned against him and taken his hands in hers immediately. She felt extremely comfortable with him and after a time had begun to tell him about what it was like on tour, her problems at home and with her family, her difficulty in keeping her sanity amidst the pop scene and then she had gone on to tell him what happened with Chris the other night.

Ryley for the most part had been quiet except only to reply reassuringly when she had requested his affirmation. His lack of conversation had only sought to strengthen her growing affection for him. Most people she had met since becoming a household name, especially the guys, had all done their best to get in her pants by continuously blabbering away, but only placing themselves further from their goal then they ever were. Ryley's seeming indifference was quite frankly an extreme turn on for Britney.

"Oh, god I can't believe I'm telling you all these things," Britney sighed. " You must think I'm a lunatic."

"Not at all," he replied.

She looked back at him. " You don't think so?"

He shook his head. " You lead a hell of a life. Every now and then I'm sure you could use a stranger, someone to confide in."

She smiled and leaned back against him, squeezing his hand. " Ryley, who are you? I mean you've got this whole cowboy image, you're a complete mystery to me. And you seem like you know a lot more than you let on."

"You mean was I ever somebody?" he asked.

"No," she replied, quickly, worried she had offended him. " What I mean is you fit in here, but in a way that's not like the slack jawed kind of way I would have expected."

He reined the horse to a stop. " Look, Britney," he said, and she turned in the saddle to look at him. " I was once a part of the world you live in. I had my fame and glory and it tore me apart. I lost everything that was dear to me, everyone I loved, not because they didn't love me anymore but because I pushed them away."

Britney swung her legs around so she was facing backwards in the saddle and face to face with him.

"I got my fifteen minutes of fame at the expense of everything I had. Now . . . I make my living guarding another man's holdings. They just so happen to be on the land your stage is on, and when I heard you would be coming I felt compelled to come down and see you for myself."

Britney wrapped her arms around his waist and slid herself up against him.

"Why?" she asked.

He looked down at her and removed her hat, letting her hair spill down her back and over her shoulders.

"I was worried," he stated as he caressed her cheek with the back of his hand.

She leaned her head against his hand. " About what?"

"I was worried that you would end up like me. But I was convinced that I would never have feelings for you. I told myself that I wouldn't."

"But I won't end up like you . . ." she began, but stopped herself.

"You could, you're moving a breakneck pace that could slam you into a wall at any moment. And now after spending time with you I've come to two conclusions. One is that if you don't slow down you will fall. And two is that I do have feelings for you."

Britney closed her eyes and pressed her lips to his, their tongues seeking out the other's in a fierce duel. Ryley slid his hands under her jacket, under her shirt to her bare skin. Britney moaned as she felt his hands on her bare back, caressing her skin and pulling her tightly against him. She smiled as she reached between them to place her hand on his crotch and squeeze him through his jeans. He moaned into her mouth and slid one hand around to her tight stomach and pressed firmly.

A sound caught both their attention and their heads snapped in the same direction to stare up the hill. There behind a stand of brush was a man furiously snapping away with a camera. Britney immediately buried her face into Ryley's chest, to hide it from the photographer.

Ryley pulled on his black leather riding gloves and placed a hand on the back of Britney's head.

"You have a choice now, Britney," Ryley whispered. " You can end the pace your career is at, let it slow down to one that will be more fulfilling and last you forever, but you'll have to face that man with his camera, and the next man and the one after that. You'll have to pick up your head and wave.

"Or, you stay like that and I'll take you back to the arena. It's your choice, Britney," Ryley finished, his hand gently caressing Britney's head.

Britney began to cry at the choice Ryley had placed before her. She didn't want to do this, she wanted to be left alone with Ryley, where the world couldn't find her.

"Oh god, Ryley," she sobbed. " I want to be with you, but I can't, they'll never let me."

"They?" Ryley asked, amused. " And they are your record label aren't they? They don't think the public would accept their teen queen with an ordinary cowboy, huh?"

Britney shook her head.

"All right, kiddo," he said, kissing her forehead. " Let's go boy," he said spurring the horse.

Britney cried, quietly in her bed. Ryley had left, not saying a word to her. He didn't seem angry with her, and that upset Britney even more. Ryley was right, she had to let her public image and her public blend into one, or the two would destroy her.

"What are you crying about?" Chris asked as he entered the room.

She sat up, quickly wiping the tears from her face and faced him. He seemed rather upset as he drank from a cup of coffee. She was about to speak when he threw a newspaper onto the bed next to her. Britney glanced down at the cover, seeing large color photo of a blonde in khaki pants kissing a guy wearing a cowboy hat . . .

"Oh no," Britney said, picking up the paper. She opened the cover and saw more photos, these clearly showing her talking to Ryley, approaching him, and then kissing him.

"Those bastards," she hissed, throwing the paper to the floor.

Chris sighed. " The record company, MTV, good morning America and every major publication has already picked this up and rumors are flying."

Britney stood up, slowly and approached the window looking out the rear of the bus. She folded her arms and breathed deeply while Chris picked up the paper and looked through it.

"We've already released a statement, saying the pictures are a fraud and that you're still with Justin. The public relations firm is having a hell of a time killing the rumors, but they're managing-"

"Enough, Chris," Britney said.

He stood up. " All right, I'll fill you in on all of it later."

Britney turned around. " No, I mean enough with all of it. I've had it with the public relations firm and the record producers and the talent agents, all of it."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I'm tired of prancing around with Justin as the perfect teeny bopper couple. I don't love him, I never loved him, and I've never gone out with him. You all dreamed that shit up to boost records sales, and I'm sick of it. Pull the plug, Chris. From now on I'm calling the shots and I'm not going to let anyone write for my life anymore!"

Chris was dumbfounded. " Should I release that?"

Britney thought a moment. " No, tell everyone to be at the concert tonight. I'll release then, on stage in front of everyone. I'll tell them about Justin, about everything."

"Britney, have you thought this through, we could lose the contract. Your sales could plummet, the world might not accept you as anything but the perfect image of the pop culture."

"Oh really?" Britney replied.

Chris nodded.

"Well then they can all go fuck themselves," Britney said, her voice ice cold.