A Cowboy's Heart (13 page)

“I get it.” He stood but he didn't move away. “But I don't get why you think you're doing this alone.”

“I know that I'm not. I'm just trying to prepare.”

“We can help you with that.”

She shook her head. “No, you can't. You can't help me face how people will react.”

“Which means?”

“There are three different ways people can react. One. Let me keep living my life, and keep treating me the way I've been treated. Second. Some people will walk away, because it's just too difficult to deal with. Or the third option, start treating me like I can't take care of myself.”

He nodded, not answering right away. And she wondered which option he would choose.

“One day at a time, Willow. That's how we'll deal with this.”

He kept saying “we” like he meant to stay in her life. Each time he said it her heart battled between wanting to believe and being afraid to believe.

“Yes, one day at a time.”

I'
M NOT GOING ANYWHERE
. He signed it with force.

“I know you aren't. Now go see if you can break me out of here. I promise to be good.”

He nodded. “I'll see if I can make a deal.”

“Thank you.”

He walked out the door and after he left she sighed and leaned back against the bed. Clint wanted to make sure she survived whatever might happen to her in the future.

Thirty minutes later he lifted her off her feet and carried her
the short distance from the doors of the hospital to his waiting truck. Her arms were around his neck, and when she argued that she could walk, he shook his head.

She'd correctly guessed his type. He was a rescuer. He couldn't help himself. It was as much a part of him as his eye color, as his faith, as his sense of loyalty. And it wasn't a bad thing, his need to rescue.

Maybe he needed rescuing, too? That thought brought a smile that she hid in the soft curve of his shoulder. She could rescue him.

He opened the truck door and leaned in to set her on the seat. His arms were around her, and hers were still wrapped around his neck. His breath, minty and warm, touched her cheek as he drew back, and he paused, his hands resting lightly on her arms.

As they stared at one another, Willow tried to think of something to say. Words failed her. Clint's hand brushed hair back from her face and lingered at the nape of her neck.

“I'm going to kiss you.” His hands also signed the words, soft and beautiful, like a whisper.

“We'll regret this tomorrow.” The words edged past the tightness in her throat.

“Maybe.”

As he leaned closer, Willow held her breath, waiting for that moment when Clint's lips touched hers. It wasn't a fleeting kiss, not a promise of something more to come. The kiss
was
the promise. It felt like forever, warm and firm, touching places forgotten, or places she'd never known.

She slid her hands through his hair and waited for reality to return as his soft curls wrapped around her fingers. The kiss went deeper, and her emotions took flight as his hands rested on her back, holding her close.

A long moment, and they pulled apart. Willow couldn't talk, she nearly couldn't breathe. That kiss had felt different, it had
felt dangerously close to falling in love. Clint leaned against the door of the truck, looking like he'd been run over by the same bull that hit her. He pushed a hand through his hair and whistled.

Who was rescuing whom?

“That was either the best thing I've ever done, or the biggest mistake of my life.”

Willow's mouth opened and she shook her head. Reading lips could sometimes be a problem. Surely she'd misunderstood. “Big mistake?”

His fingers moved, slow and a little shaky. H
OW DO WE GO BACK TO FRIENDSHIP
?

Lines drawn and now smudged. Badly smudged. She'd drawn those lines herself, knowing she had to find the place where he fit comfortably into her world, where he wasn't a threat, and where he was least likely to hurt her.

What now?

“I'm not sure, Clint. But I'd like to go home.” Because suddenly—maybe because of the head injury, or maybe because of a kiss—she couldn't remember why it had been so important to her that he be only a friend.

And now
he
seemed to think they could only be friends.

He started to say something, and Willow looked away, avoiding his words. He touched her shoulder, and she shook her head. She wasn't going to listen. She signed the words, and he turned her so that they were facing each other.

N
OT FAIR
, he signed.

“Kissing me like that and calling it a mistake wasn't fair.” She lifted her chin a notch, more for confidence than a statement of defiance. “I need time to think, and I really don't want to listen to what you have to say. If I have to, I'll close my eyes.”

He laughed. “That's about the most juvenile thing I've ever heard from a grown woman.”

“Yes, it is, isn't it? Juvenile, but effective.”

She couldn't stay mad at him when she'd been thinking what he'd had the nerve to say. A great kiss, or a big mistake. She thought maybe it fit into both categories.

C
lint left Willow in Janie's capable hands that first night, and the next day she spent resting. Janie insisted. He waited until the second day after the accident to face her again, and to let the boys visit.

The boys had demanded it. A whole day without Willow had been too much for them. He followed them into the house, warning them to take it easy because she might not feel like having company. Especially rowdy four-year-old company.

But he figured his company would be the least welcome, because he had stepped a little too far into her life. As much as it had felt as if she enjoyed being in his arms, as much as he enjoyed having her there, it had definitely done something. It had put distance between them.

Maybe because they both had a lot to think about. He sure hadn't been expecting this when he met her. He hadn't been looking for these feelings.

As he walked down the hall, he heard Janie in the back room, talking to the boys. Willow was silent. He walked into the sitting room where the boys were chattering to Janie, and Willow was trying to follow along. As he walked through the door, he signed their excited words for her.

Willow smiled over their heads, and the boys continued to jabber about the kittens crawling around in the barn and Bell chasing a mouse.

“Guys, get off Willow. Give her a break.” He signed as he spoke to the boys, making sure she didn't get left out.

“They're fine. They're just excited about their new trucks.”

“They're going to play, and then we're going to try the creek again.” He sat down on the couch next to Willow.

“Sounds like fun. I think I'll not go this time.”

“You didn't make it last time.”

“And because of me, the boys missed out on fishing and the rope swing.” She hugged both boys and kissed the tops of their heads. Clint told himself it was silly to be jealous of little boys.

“I think they understood.” He pulled the boys to his side and gave them each a bear hug. “I'm going to get some work done this morning. We'll do the creek this afternoon, guys. For now, the two of you can play outside where I can see you.”

Willow followed him to the front door. As the boys grabbed their cars and ran off for a dirt patch that they were itching to dig around in, Willow caught hold of his arm.

“Clint, don't do this.”

“Do what?”

“Don't treat me different. Don't let my hearing, a kiss, whatever has happened, don't let it change things between us.” She bit down on her bottom lip and shrugged, “I don't want to lose your friendship.”

“You haven't lost me, Willow.”

“Haven't I?”

“No, you haven't. I have a lot on my mind. Yes, I'm worried about you. I'm worried about what this all means to your future here. I'm worried because I haven't had an e-mail from Jenna. I'm worried because the boys miss their mom. I'm about exhausted from worry.”

“Then don't let me be one of the things you worry about. I'm fine. I've been taking care of myself for a long time now, and I'm going to keep taking care of myself. I'm not giving up on this farm, or raising bulls. I'll figure something out. And I'm still very capable of helping with the boys. Don't take that away from me.”

“I'm sorry, Willow.” He brushed a hand through his hair. “This isn't about you. It's me. I'm just tired, and I have work to do in the barn.”

“Okay, go work in the barn. I have an appointment in town.” She pulled him back. “Hey, that's my barn. Is there something going on that I should know about?”

Well, he really hadn't wanted to deal with this right now. But from the look on her face, he wasn't going to have the chance to walk away without telling her everything.

“Nothing important, just going to clean the stalls and meet James McKinney later. He wants to look at that little cow you were talking about selling, the Hereford.”

“James McKinney is coming to look at one of my cows? James doesn't like my cows.”

“They're cows like everyone else's.”

“No, not in James's mind they're not.” She frowned, and it was cute. “I think in his mind my cows are city cows.”

“Well, he must have changed his mind. I saw him at the feed store, and he mentioned buying a cow for his granddaughter. She's joined 4-H.”

“And you offered to sell him my cow.”

“You told me you wanted to sell her.” He shook his head. “Willow, I'm just about confused now. If you don't want to sell that heifer, I'll call him and tell him not to come over.”

“Go ahead and sell her.” She turned and walked back inside the house. Bell sat on the porch staring at Clint and then looking at the door.

“She even has you confused, doesn't she?” He patted his leg, and the dog followed him out to the barn.

After cleaning out a few stalls Clint fixed a bottle for the calf and held it over the fence. The black-and-white animal nudged the bottle and then latched on and drank down the milk in a matter of minutes. Clint pulled the bottle away and dumped grain into the trough.

“That's it, buddy.” He dropped the bottle in the bucket, sat it inside the barn and then walked through the dry, dusty lot. He glanced up, hoping for a sign of rain. Not a cloud in the sky. It was near the end of June, and they could use a good soaking before the grass dried up and they had to start hauling in hay from somewhere else.

The cow he was going to show James McKinney was in the corral. He'd brought her up last night, separating her from the rest of the herd to make it easier to show her today. When she saw him coming she mooed a pitiful sound, asking for her companions and some grain. He lifted the bucket of grain he'd carried out for her. That'd have to be enough to keep her happy.

A deep red with brown eyes in a white face, she lumbered to the feed and shoved her nose into the molasses-covered corn and oats, snorting and blowing it across the metal trough. He reached through and rubbed the top of her head. She jerked away, grain slobbering from her mouth as her tongue licked to draw it back in.

“Yeah, you're not the only female mad at me.” He lifted his leg and hooked his boot on the lower rail of the fence. “I'm a pretty unpopular guy this morning.”

“Talking to yourself, Clint?”

He turned and smiled at Janie. She wore polyester pants, a loose top and rubber work boots. He smiled, remembering her fifteen years before, out in a storm trying to save one of her prize cows, which had been having difficulty giving birth. She'd pulled out the calf that had refused to exit the birth canal, and then she'd
pushed on that mama cow until she got to her feet. She had saved them all, including Jenna and him.

“Yeah, I guess I am.”

“You're going to have to stop trying to be such a hero.” Janie reached through and rubbed her hand along the floppy ear of the cow.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean that all of her life Willow has had people making decisions for her. This ranch was the one thing she did on her own. Now, more than ever, she needs to feel like she's still in control.”

“I'm helping.”

“You
were
helping. But this accident and the test results changed things.” Janie's eyes watered. “Oh, Clint, we don't want to think of Willow going through something like this. But she's facing it, and she's determined. Don't treat her any differently.”

“I'm not.” He sighed. “I sure don't mean to.”

“Did you mean to fall in love with her?”

He laughed at that. “Janie, one thing I'm not is in love. I'm here to help Willow for as long as she needs me. But I don't have time for relationships. I've got two little boys to raise and a farm to rebuild.”

Janie patted his arm, the way she'd been doing since he was a twelve-year-old kid, asking for odd jobs. “You're a little too convinced you're the only one who can take care of everyone, but you've got a good heart.”

“It isn't bad to take care of people that you care about.” The rumble of a truck coming down the drive sounded like an escape.

“No, it isn't bad, unless you are so busy taking care of everyone that you forget to let them into your life.” She glanced in the direction of the old, blue farm truck pulling up to the barn. “That's old McKinney. I'm leaving before he can ask me to have coffee at the café.”

“Maybe I'm not the only one so busy taking care of everyone
that I forget to let people into my life.” He shot the comment at her retreating back.

Janie turned, smiling. “I guess you learned it from me. Is that a good thing, Clint?”

He shrugged. “I don't know, Janie. You've always seemed pretty content.”

“Think about what I've said. I'm going to check on the boys. They're playing out front. Willow went to get new hearing aids.”

“See you in a bit.”

She continued on, her boots scuffing in the dusty dirt. Clint sighed and leaned his back against the fence. Janie, in her sixties and alone all of these years. He couldn't remember one time that she ever went out with someone, other than her friends from church.

He wondered if she ever got lonely. And if someday he would look back on his life, a life without someone to share it with, and regret. His entire life he'd spent taking care of Jenna and his dad, and later, the boys. And love had seemed like something that didn't really last.

James McKinney walked through the gate and headed in his direction. The old farmer's eyes were on the cow, and he was nodding. Clint fought back a smile. James McKinney had more money than most banks. He actually owned part of a bank or two. But like so many of the older farmers, you couldn't tell by looking at him. He drove a twenty-year-old truck that he didn't see a need to replace. He lived in a house that hadn't seen a new roof in thirty years and was still being heated with wood and cooled with fans.

James McKinney was the old guard of farming, the guys who didn't go into unnecessary debt and raised cows for meat, not show. He didn't have no use, he would say, in pedigrees. He wanted a cow that would produce good calves.

Until now. And Clint knew that girls changed everything. Even a crusty old farmer.

“She looks good, Clint. Why's Willow getting rid of her?”

“She has to cull a few, James.”

“You wouldn't try to pull one over on an old guy, would you, Clint? Your daddy pulled a few good ones on me.” The older farmer laughed. “He sold me a horse one time, told me she was a champion of some kind. That horse was nothing but the champion of running her rider through barn doors.”

“I remember that horse.” Clint smiled. “Sorry about that. And no, I don't deal like my dad did.”

“That's good to know.” James walked around the cow, looking from all angles. “I hate to even admit this, but my granddaughter wants a cow to show in community fairs.”

Clint nodded. He understood. A man would do strange things for a woman. “Well, things change, James. And I bet grandkids change a man even more.”

“You wouldn't believe it if I told you.” He scratched his chin and nodded, slow, thoughtful. “She looks like a good little heifer. Gentle, too.”

“She likes most people.” Everyone but him.

“You couldn't get a better heifer for your granddaughter, James.” Willow's voice. She walked toward them, smiling and dismissing Clint with a look. He backed away, because he knew that territorial look on her face. He'd seen barn cats like her, circling their territory, backs arched.

“Will she lead?” James asked Clint. Clint looked at Willow. Nope, she wouldn't lead, and she sure couldn't be pushed.

He wasn't sure what to do, but Willow was looking at him, so he signed the other man's inquiry because the questioning look on her face said she hadn't heard.

“Yes, she'll lead,” Willow answered.

James McKinney looked from Willow to Clint, as if he wasn't
sure which one of them he should be talking to. Clint pointed to Willow, it was her cow. He was just the unlucky guy that was trying to help.

“Do you think she'd make a show cow?” James McKinney muttered and shook his head as he glanced over the heifer, his back to Willow. Clint signed the question and Willow adjusted the new hearing aids she had obviously gone to Grove to pick up.

“She will, James.” Willow had a lead rope, and she walked through the gate and snapped it onto the halter the cow wore. “Stand aside, gentlemen.”

She led the cow out of the pen and closed the gate behind her. She walked up to James McKinney and handed him the corded rope. “Take her home with you, James. I'm sure Clint already gave you a price.”

Ouch. But she was right, he had given the farmer a price, the one Willow had quoted him earlier. He pretty much knew at that moment that he was in serious, very serious, trouble.

 

Willow left Clint with James McKinney and walked across the lawn to the swing where the boys were sitting, the two of them together. They were always together.