A Cowboy's Heart (4 page)

So much for the calm, cool facade that she'd fooled them with in the bull-riding world. He now knew her weakness. Ms. Calm-Cool-and-Collected ate chocolate and didn't like to share her personal space.

That knowledge didn't help him out a bit. He was definitely in her personal space, and with no way out.

He found her in the arena, standing on a platform above a bull and strapping a training dummy to his back while she talked into the headset of her cell phone. Her brows drew together, and her lips tightened into a frown.

Obviously bad news.

He approached from her side, making sure she knew he was heading her way. She nodded and turned away, maybe to open the chute for the bull, maybe to avoid him. The gate on the chute opened, and the bull turned to face out, encouraged by the woman above his chute. A teenager, slight, and quick on his feet, stood in the arena, keeping the bull in a spin.

“Looks good. How old?” Clint leaned against the post next to Willow.

Her hand slid up her ear.

“I'm sorry?” She smiled.

“The bull looks good. How old is he?”

“He's two. I'm not sure if he's going to make it. He doesn't like to buck.”

“Do you need my help? I can open the gate, strap on the dummy?”

A pointed look at his shoulder. “I don't think you should.”

“Got it.” Help not needed. He had to find his place here. He had to apologize. “I'm sorry about the boys this morning.”

“They were being boys, Clint. They're fine.” She leaned against the rail of the scaffolding next to the chute where the next bull was waiting. Her expression softened, because it was about two little boys. “How are they, though?”

“They're okay.” He remembered their tears when Jenna left, and his own. They were all fine. And scared. “At least they're here with me. We'll get through.”

“If I can help…”

“You have.”

Another one of those looks he didn't understand, and shadows in her blue eyes that could probably convince a man that she needed to be held. But he knew better than to step into her life. There was a world of difference between them.

She was designer clothes and gourmet meals. He was fast food
and the clearance rack at Wal-Mart. And he liked his life. For the moment he looked a lot happier with this discount life than she looked with her top-drawer existence.

She turned away from him to watch the bull come out of the chute and then she shook her head. “Brian, run him through the gate, and we'll get him something to eat. Bring Wooly in next.”

“Willow, if I'm going to live here, I really want to help out.”

“Have you been to the doctor yet?” She shot a pointed look at his shoulder, his arm still in a sling.

“Not yet. It's an injury I've had before, and I know what to do.”

“So, you'll be ready to ride bulls at the next event. Or are you going to call and let them know that you'll be a no-show.”

“You know I can't do that and stay on tour.”

“Then go to the doctor. If you can't afford…”

“I can afford it.”

He sure didn't need insults and charity.

“I'm sorry.” She picked up the training dummy that Brian had tossed onto the platform and leaned to put it on the new bull. “We'll work together. I don't know specific jobs to give you. I know each day what I need to get done. And if something unexpected comes up, I fit it into my schedule. I guess we start with you helping us with feeding time.”

Her phone rang and she smiled an apology and stepped away from him. At least now he knew how he stood, at the ranch, and in her world. He was one of the unexpected things she was fitting into her life.

 

“I'm sorry, I can't hear you.” Willow walked away, knowing that Clint wasn't the kind of guy to purposely listen in on a conversation, but knowing that if he heard, he would have questions.

The caller on the other end apologized for the bad connection. She closed her eyes, wishing it really was a problem with the phone. But the bad connection had nothing to do with cell service.

She glanced in Clint's direction and saw him talking to Brian. Distracted, she had to gather her thoughts and listen to the caller as he told her something about a bull she had for sale.

“Sir, could you call me back on my home phone? Or perhaps e-mail.” She held her breath, praying he'd say yes and wondering if God heard such selfish prayers.

It wasn't selfish, not really. Because God did understand her fear. She'd talked to Him about it quite a bit lately.

“I'll e-mail.” The caller came through clearly for a moment, and she thanked him. She needed a break, a real break, the kind that meant things going smoothly for a few days.

Just a few days, time to gather herself and figure out her next move. She turned, facing Brian and Clint with a smile that felt strong. But eye contact with Clint wasn't helping her feel strong. It was the way his lips quirked in a half grin and lines crinkled around his eyes.

He had a toothpaste-commercial smile that could make a girl dream of moonlit nights and roses. She no longer had those dreams.

“Where are the boys?” Neutral ground that felt safe, safer than holding his gaze.

“Janie is fixing them grilled cheese for supper, after she's already filled them up with cookies.” He leaned to hold the dummy for Brian. “We're going to the chili supper and carnival at church tonight.”

“Yes, she told me. That's a good way to distract the boys. The next few days are going to be hard for them.”

“She told me you're not going.”

She wondered if he understood what it meant to invade someone's personal space. It wasn't always done physically. Sometimes it was done emotionally, with nosy questions and interference. Maybe he didn't care?

“No, I'm not going.”

“Because…”

She stepped away from him. “Because I don't like chili.”

Because she didn't like crowded places with too many conversations, explanations for people who talked in quiet tones, and curious glances from those who saw the hearing aids.

She loved bull riding, where people respected her and curiosity didn't matter, because she had proven herself. She loved her non-hearing friends in Tulsa, because with them she could be herself.

He didn't appear to be giving up. He had stepped closer and wore a persuasive half grin. She remembered him smiling like that when she'd been thirteen and he'd only been a year or so older. She had dreamed of that smile for a long, long time, wondering what it would be like to fall in love with a cowboy.

She shook off the old memories and listened to what he was saying now. Now, sixteen years and several rejections later, her heart had been broken so many times it was held together with duct tape.

“Everyone likes chili. Or at least they like it when they know there will be dozens of desserts, and the money is going to help the church youth group.”

Willow liked arguing less than she liked chili. Worse than that, she disliked the feeling that someone was trying to make plans for her. “I'm not going, Clint. I'll give you a check for the youth group.”

“Willow, I wasn't trying…”

She sighed, because she knew that he wasn't trying, that he hadn't intended to take over. “I know you weren't. Have a good time tonight. Make sure you guys close up and turn off the lights when you're done in here.”

Clint reached for her arm, and she knew he wanted to say more. He didn't. Instead he smiled and let his hand drop to his side, like he understood.

As she walked across the drive to the house she saw the boys through the window. They were so young, and so brave. Their mother was brave.

The warm smell of grilled cheese and fresh coffee greeted her as she walked through the door of the house. She kicked off her boots and headed for the kitchen, stockinged feet on hardwood.

The boys looked up from cups of tomato soup, red liquid dripping from their chins. She smiled, but she wanted to hug them tight. The little one, David, not Davie, gave her a tremulous smile that threaded its way into her heart. The bigger of the two, Timmy, just frowned.

“I heard that the two of you had cookies. Were they good?” Willow kneeled next to the table, putting herself at eye level with the two children.

They nodded and both took another bite of their sandwiches, dripping cheese as they pulled the bread away. Grilled cheese and tomato soup, Aunt Janie's cure for everything, including broken hearts.

“Want something…” Janie's words faded out as she moved away.

Willow turned, shooting her aunt a questioning gaze. The words had blended with the radio and the dishwasher's low rumble.

“I'm sorry, Willow. Do you want to eat, or are you going with us?”

“I'll eat with the boys.” Willow smiled at the two and stood up, her legs protesting her squatting next to the table.

“The boys are going with us.” Janie smiled. “But they don't like chili.”

“I don't blame them.”

Janie frowned. “It isn't chili you're avoiding, it's people.”

“And lectures.”

Janie wiped wet hands on a kitchen towel, her frown growing. “Willow, are you okay?”

“Of course I am.”

The house vibrated with footsteps, heavy steps. Willow turned as Clint walked into the room, his wide smile directed at the boys.

Janie handed her a bowl, and Willow turned toward the table. Clint had taken a seat with the boys. He had a glass of iced tea and a cookie.

“You have a cow that's about to have a calf,” he said after taking a drink of his tea.

“I know. I've been checking on her every few hours.”

“Is this her first calf?”

“Second.”

“She's young.”

Willow exhaled and pretended she didn't have an answer for that. He set his glass down and she looked up, knowing he wasn't going to let it go.

“Yes, she's young. The first time she got into the wrong pen.” She wouldn't go further, not with two little boys at the table.

“Maybe I should stay home, in case she gets down on you. You might have to pull the calf.”

Like she didn't know that. She gave him a pointed look and lifted a spoon of soup to her mouth. After taking a bite she set the spoon down.

“I can handle it, Clint. I know how to pull a calf. I know how to take care of my cows.”

“I was just offering.”

“If I can't handle it, I have a good vet.” She took in a breath and smiled. “You need to take the boys to the carnival at church. I can handle this.”

He raised his hand and smiled. “Got it.”

Timmy laughed and David looked worried.

“Guys, don't ever argue with a woman who has her mind made up.” Clint picked up a napkin and wiped grilled cheese crumbs off David's chin.

Willow smiled, because how could she not? And when she looked up, he winked. Just like that, he undid everything.

C
lint threw another plastic ring around another soda bottle and took the two-liter cola that the girl handed him. The low rumble of a diesel engine caught his attention. He turned and watched as Willow pulled into the parking lot of the church. She backed the red extended cab into a space and cut the engine.

And he smiled. Unexpected. She was obviously a woman who always did the unexpected. He liked that about her. And he liked the fact that she was here, and she had made it pretty clear that this was the last place she wanted to be.

But she was getting out of her truck, and she was smiling. At him. That smile made him want to win big stuffed bears for her and carry cotton candy. It made him want to…

Rescue a woman who didn't want or need to be rescued.

“Uncle Clint, isn't that Miss Willow?” Timmy tugged on the sling and Clint grimaced.

“Yeah, buddy, that's her. You boys stay with Janie, and I'll bring her over here.”

Because he wanted just a few minutes alone with her. A smile shouldn't do that to a guy. It shouldn't make him want to take
her off by the creek, alone, for a walk in the dim glow of early evening. A smile shouldn't do that to a man, but it did.

That smile made him want to forget that she was a princess and he had nothing to offer but a crumbled old farm and a lot of dreams.

She stopped at the edge of the parking lot and waited for him. She was tall and gorgeous, in jeans and a peasant top, her hair in a ponytail.

“Imagine seeing you here.” He grinned and hoped that she would smile again. She did.

“I decided that if the boys could do this, so could I.” She glanced past him to the boys. “They're really brave.”

“They are.” He started to offer his hand and reconsidered. “Stick with me, it won't be that bad.”

Had he just said that? From the amused look on her face, he knew he had. He pushed his hat down on his head a little and laughed.

“Stick with you, huh?”

“Something like that. I'll even hold your hand.”

“I'm a big girl. I won't get lost.” She looked past him again, and she didn't take his hand. “The boys are heading this way. I'm really here for them, not you.”

“Ouch, that hurts a guy's ego.”

She turned to face him, and he knew she hadn't heard. He repeated and she smiled.

“I think your ego will be fine.”

“You're probably right.” And on the chance that she would hold his hand, he held it out again, palm up. She took it, her fingers grasping his and he felt like he might be her lifeline.

When they reached the twins, she let go of his hand and reached for the boys. They moved to her, and for a minute it made him really believe they might be okay. He hadn't expected that she'd be the one to make him feel that way.

“What is there to do around here?” she asked David, always the quiet twin, always seeking assurance.

“I like the pony ride and…”

“The big bouncing castle.” Timmy grabbed her hand.

“Pony ride first.” She put an arm around each and smiled at her aunt. Watching her with the boys, Clint wanted to be four again and small enough for ponies and the moonwalk.

“What about me?” he asked, hurrying to catch up. Willow glanced back at him.

“You're too big for the moonwalk.”

“I'm not too big.”

“Uh-huh.” Timmy had hold of Willow's hand. “And you promised us cotton candy.”

“Cotton candy, of course. And I have a pile of prizes I need to put in the truck.”

Willow stopped, still holding on to the boys. “I'll take them on the pony ride.”

“Sounds good.” He didn't really want to walk away. He wanted to stay with her, with the boys, because she was easy to be around.

But he had been dismissed, and the boys got to hang out with Willow. He felt a little cheated as he walked off with nothing but stuffed animals and bottles of cola.

 

Willow lifted David onto the back of a brown-and-white spotted pony. He leaned toward her, his gray eyes big. “I'm afraid of horses.”

She smiled and wanted to tell him that it was okay, that fear sometimes pushed a person to be strong. He was too little to understand. He only knew that he was afraid.

“I'll stay next to you.”

He nodded and then the horse moved a jolting step forward. Little hands grabbed the saddle horn and his mouth tightened into a serious line. Willow patted his arm and winked.

“Pretend he's one of those purple horses in front of the grocery store. They bounce, but they don't move.” She kept hold of his arm. “He can't go anywhere but in a circle. And if he tries, I'll grab you.”

“Promise.” His voice was soft and she read his lips.

“Promise.” She wouldn't let him go.

She searched the crowd for Janie and Clint. Janie had found a group of friends, and they were all sitting under a canopy. She spotted Clint walking in their direction, three sticks of pink cotton candy in his hands.

Even without the cotton candy, he stood out in the crowd. He was a cowboy in faded jeans and a dark-blue polo. His hat shaded his face but didn't hide the smile that she somehow imagined was just for her.

For a moment she was like David on his pony, not afraid, just enjoying the ride.

But what about tomorrow? What about reality?

How long could she go on, pretending everything was fine? How long could she convince herself that she wasn't afraid? Who would catch her?

She knew the answer to that. She would catch herself.

“Could we ride again?” Timmy yelled from his horse.

“One more time.” She pulled tickets from her pocket and handed them to John, a neighbor who was donating his time and his ponies for the youth group to raise money for a mission trip.

He took the tickets and said something to each of the boys about being cowboys like their uncle.

Clint walked along the outside of the portable fence that circled the ponies. “Cotton candy?”

He held one out to her. The pony turned his head and nipped, wanting the sugar more than Willow wanted it. David laughed, a real laugh. He hunched, and his shoulders shook. Willow laughed, too, and then Timmy was laughing. The pony didn't
care; she wanted the sugar and the bar that kept her going in her circle clanked as she stretched out her neck.

The boys continued to laugh, and Willow wiped tears from her eyes. When she looked up, Clint was watching, his dimpled grin now familiar.

The ride ended. She helped David down. Timmy hopped to the ground, a little cowboy in his jeans, boots and a plaid shirt. Janie and Clint were waiting for them at the gate. The boys took their cotton candy.

“I'd like to take the boys in to have their pictures taken,” Janie announced. “Sandy is in there with her camera.”

“Sounds like a great idea.” Clint held out the last cotton candy and Willow took it, surprised that it was for her. “Do you mind if I take Willow for a buggy ride?”

Willow swallowed a sticky-sweet bite of cotton candy, remembering why she liked it so much, and also why she hadn't eaten it in years. “Clint, I have to leave. I wanted to spend a little time with the boys, but I have to get home to that cow.”

Under the wide brim of his white cowboy hat, his brows arched in question. He didn't believe her. Of course he didn't. For a moment, she didn't believe herself. She had come down here for the boys, and then for other reasons. Maybe because she wanted to walk with a cowboy and eat cotton candy?

“I really do have to go. She's close to having that calf, and I don't want to lose either of them.”

“Of course.” He smiled and she remembered that his smile was the reason she'd jumped in her truck and driven down to the church.

She averted her eyes and glanced down at the boys, each holding cotton candy that was nearly gone. “You two have fun.”

They nodded but took another bite of spun sugar. They wouldn't sleep for a week. She laughed a little and turned to face Janie and Clint.

“I'll see you all later.” She made her escape. It was definitely
an escape, she realized that. She was running from someone who made her feel too much.

And she had more reasons for running than he could possibly know.

 

Clint woke up at daybreak, the sun just peeking over the flat, Oklahoma horizon. He looked in at the boys, still sound asleep. They'd stayed late at the church, where the boys had played games, throwing rings around soda bottles and darts at balloons. They now had a cabinet full of root beer, and a bag of cheap toys and stuffed animals, all prizes from the games they'd played after Willow left.

At least the cow had been more than just an excuse. The proof was the spindly-legged calf standing next to her momma in the corral next to the barn.

Sometimes he wondered if she gave anyone a chance to really know her. Or was it just about him? He could still remember her peeking through the curtains all those years ago, hiding. Embarrassed?

He put on a pot of coffee and then went to wake the boys. David was already stirring, his eyes blinking open a few times and then catching with Clint's.

How did he do this? How could he be a parent when he didn't have any experience, other than having been an older brother? Doubts hung out in the pit of his stomach when he thought about it.

Clint kneeled next to the twin bed and smiled at the little boy, a child with his sister's dimples. Clint closed his eyes, praying for them to get through the next year, and praying for Jenna to stay safe.

She had to come home to the boys. They all needed her. He included. David leaned on one scraped elbow, his eyes sad. Clint mussed the kid's hair and tried to pretend they were all okay, and that he knew how to be the parent they needed.

“How about cereal for breakfast?” Clint asked as David sat up, rubbing sleep-filled eyes.

“We like pancakes,” Timmy's groggy voice said from the other bed.

Clint turned, smiling at the other twin. “I don't think I have stuff for pancakes, Timmy.”

“Aunt Janie does. She said so. Last night she said,” and he cleared his throat to make the point, “‘you boys come over in the morning, and I'll whip you up some homemade pancakes.'”

Four years old and a mimic. Clint laughed at the fair imitation.

“Okay, we'll go to Janie's for pancakes.” He stood, stiff from squatting, and from too many times landing on a hard-packed dirt arena. “Get dressed, okay?”

“I don't want pancakes.” David covered his head with the blanket. “I want my mom.”

The words were muffled, but the emotion wasn't, or the slight sob that followed.

Clint stood at the door, his heart squeezing. “I know, buddy. But she'll be home as soon as she can get here.”

In a year. One year of her children's lives, lost. One year of missing milestones. One year of him worrying, and praying she'd be safe.

He smiled at Timmy. “Help your brother get ready.”

One year of life on hold for all of them.

A short time later, he walked out of Janie's and across the road to the barn. The boys were eating pancakes, and Janie was hugging them, pretending the tears in her eyes were from dust.

He walked through the large double doors at the front of the barn and was greeted by silence. Light poured out from the open door of Willow's office.

He stopped at the entrance. She stood at the window, looking out over the field. Her forehead rested on the glass of the window and her hands were shoved into the front pockets of her jeans.

After a few minutes, he said her name. She didn't turn, didn't even start. There was no indication that she'd noticed his arrival.

So how did he make his presence known, and keep from scaring her? He stepped up into the room and reached for her, but then pulled back. When she turned, she saw him there. She jumped a little and then exhaled.

“How long have you been here?” Her voice was husky, soft.

“A few minutes. I said your name.”

She looked away. He noticed then that the hearing aids she normally wore weren't in sight. That was the reason for the silence, for the lack of music, and why she hadn't heard.

W
ILLOW
,
ARE YOU OKAY
? He signed the words, stepping to block her from walking away.

She smiled. “I'm fine.”

She sat down on the edge of her desk. “Are you okay?”

And that's how she changed it, making it about him, not her. It wasn't just deflection on her part. He could see in her eyes that she cared, that she wanted to know that he was okay. He was. It was the boys he wasn't so sure about.

“I'm fine.”

“I don't think so.”