Along Came a Cowboy (9 page)

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Authors: Christine Lynxwiler

BOOK: Along Came a Cowboy
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“Looks like his sister had big news,” Allie says.

“Good news, I hope.”

Just as we finish setting the food out, Lark comes barreling down the hill, clutching her cell, a big grin across her face. “Okay, guys, I need you to pray like you've never prayed before. There's a chance we're going to be able to adopt a baby.”

Allie looks up from where she's stirring the potato salad. “Really? Did the adoption agency beep in?”

Lark shakes her head. “That was Craig's sister in Batesville. A woman she works with has a friend in Shady Grove who is pregnant. She's not married and wants to give the baby up for adoption.”

Allie hurries to hug her. “How old is she?”

“Thirty.”

I hug her, too. “Why isn't she keeping the baby?” I say, caution tempering my joy.

Lark frowns. “She can't afford to. But the good news is Marsha told her about us and she wants to meet us.”

“That's wonderful.” I try to keep the concern from my voice.

“You sound like you're not so sure.”

I'm saved from having to respond when Victoria jogs over to us, her blue polo shirt and khaki shorts spattered lightly with water. “Adam wanted to have a water fight.” She nods over her shoulder to where the guys are barbecuing, and Allie's brother, Adam, is wringing water out of his T-shirt. “He lost.”

Allie grins. “He never gives up, does he?”

“Never grows up is more like it,” Victoria grumbles as she sinks onto the blanket and snags a sports drink from the cooler. “So what did I miss?”

Lark drops down beside her with her baby news, and
Victoria completes the round of Pinky hugs with her own enthusiastic contribution.

Allie sits across from her. “Rachel's cowboy asked her out.”

Victoria's face lights up, and she salutes me with her sports drink. “When are you going?”

“I'm not.”

She looks at me in disbelief. “You're saying no to him?”

“Already did.”

“Wow. You've got willpower.”

Allie laughs. “You make him sound fattening, Vic.”

“He's worse than fattening,” she says. “He should come with a surgeon general's warning: May be addictive.”

Something unfamiliar wrenches at my gut.

I'm satisfied with how I look, and some people consider my red hair and green eyes “striking,” but Victoria is supermodel material. If she set her sights on Jack, I wouldn't have a chance.

As soon as I think it, I realize how ridiculous the thought is. With or without Victoria, I don't have a chance. Because I'm not going out with him.

End of subject.

M
onday evening, I hurry up the steps to Allie's house to pick up Jennifer. We're supposed to be at the Lazy W in thirty minutes for her to watch a bull riding practice, but my last patient recently lost her husband, and she needed to talk. Some things can't be hurried. Then to top it all off, I had to get Norma to give my car a jumpstart. All I need is a new battery, probably, but trying to find the time to get one is another story.

Allie opens the kitchen door as soon as I knock. “Hey, girl. Come in. The kids are back there somewhere.” She nods toward the bedrooms.

I give her a quick hug. “Thanks again for inviting Jenn to ‘babysit' while she's here. You're a lifesaver.” Besides being a major distraction to Jennifer's quest to find her birth mother, her having this job makes it easier for me to concentrate at work. I don't have to wonder if she's bored at the office or okay at home alone.

Allie waves her hand in a “no worries” motion and snags us both a bottle of water from her fridge. “My mom loves the girls, but I know she's glad to have a break.” She hands me the water
and gives my jeans a look. “You having casual day at the office now?”

“No, I haven't given in to Norma on that yet. I changed before I left work so I'd be ready to take Jenn out to this insane bull riding practice.” I hold up my wrist to show two black elastics around it. “Still need to get my hair out of my face though.” At the end of the day, I usually pull my curly mane back in a ponytail, but I guess the thought of going to Jack's arena brings out the cowgirl in me. Today I'm in the mood for braids. I split my hair into two sections and quickly braid one.

“So you're heading out to see Jack?” Her casual tone doesn't fool me.

“Only because of Jenn.” I slip a ponytail holder off my wrist, fasten the first braid, and start the second.

She shrugs. “Of course. I was just asking.”

Yeah, just asking. Why is it that when a seemingly happy single friend finds true love, she can no longer believe that her own seemingly happy single friend really is happily single?

I secure the second braid and toss it over my shoulder. “I'd better get Jennifer so we can get going.”

Down the hall, I glance in the open doorway of Miranda's room. Katie is perched on the bed, and Miranda is standing behind Jennifer. Their backs are toward me and they're concentrating on a laptop computer open on the desk.

“Hey.”

Jennifer jumps and slams the laptop shut.

An uneasy feeling worms its way through my chest. “Ready to go?”

She shrugs. “Sure. Cute hair.”

“Thanks.”

She hugs the girls and Allie good-bye, and a few minutes later, we're on our way to the ranch.

As we turn down the lane, I can't contain myself any longer. “It was a little obvious that you didn't want me to see the Web page you were looking at back there.”

Her face reddens, but she doesn't speak.

“You know I'm not one to play the heavy, Jenn, but the Internet can be a dangerous place.”

She crosses her arms and gives a little humorless laugh. “Don't worry. I wasn't chatting with strangers or giving out my personal information.”

“Then what?” I glance over at her resolute expression.

“Every time I ask you to help me find my birth mother, you put me off. I thought maybe I could find some info online.”

My heart aches for her, and for a split second, I wonder if I'm doing the right thing. “And did you?”

She looks down at her lap and shakes her head.

I knew the answer, but relief still seeps into my tense muscles.

“Do you know who she is?”

I keep my eyes on the road. “I know your mom explained to you that it was a closed adoption. I can't answer that question even if I did know the answer. So it's not fair to keep asking me.” Not that I'd expect her to be fair. She's a fifteen-year-old, for Pete's sake.

She blows her breath out in obvious exasperation. “I'm a teenager. I don't have to be fair.”

And way too smart for her own good.

I turn down the tiny barn road and slow to a crawl. “If your birth mother had wanted you to know who she was, she'd have gone with an open adoption. But she didn't.”

“Maybe she's changed her mind. You don't know.”

Unfortunately, I
do
know.

I pull into the wide-open dirt parking area in front of Jack's
barn, kill the motor, and turn in my seat to face her. “Sometimes you just have to move on, hon. You have your whole life ahead of you.”

She yanks the car door open and jumps out, her blondishred hair swinging. I'm still clutching the steering wheel when she leans back down to get in one last parting shot. “It's kinda hard to move on when you don't know where you've been.”

She slams the door and strides toward the barn. I open my own door slowly and put my feet on the ground. My legs are as trembly as a new colt's as I jog to catch up with her. I knew this wouldn't be easy. I have to keep reminding myself that she's better off with a little unfulfilled curiosity than she would be with the harsh reality. Isn't she? Tears prick my eyes. If only I could be sure it's Jenn I'm protecting.

When we enter the covered arena, Jack looks up from where he's standing next to the corral fence talking to a young cowboy. A grin lights up his whole face, and he raises his hand in greeting. The chill that invaded my heart on the way here recedes a little.

He turns back to the cowboy for a brief moment then walks toward us. “I'm glad you came,” he says to Jennifer, but his brown eyes seek mine out as he finishes.

Jenn turns to me. “I'm going to say hi to the horses, okay?”

“Sure,” Jack and I say together.

She flits over to the stalls and reaches through to pat one of the mares.

“She seems happy,” Jack says.

I glance up at him then back to Jenn. “Yeah, she does.” Which is amazing. But typical for teenage years, I guess.

“I really
am
glad you came. I thought you might chicken out.”

“Why should I?” I shrug. “I'm not considering climbing up on one of those crazy bulls.”

“Speaking of that, you asked me about the plan. Here's the idea. Your dad brought Sweetie over today.”

“My Sweetie?”

Jack nods. “He thinks that if you do a little barrel-racing exhibition before the bull riding, Jennifer might decide she'd rather do that.”

I cringe. The thought of riding in front of people again makes me feel nauseated. It's been so long. I glance around the arena. It's not too bad—there are only a half-dozen cowboys milling around. But there's Jack. Unfortunately, I can't forget him. “Okay, I guess it's worth a try.”

“Good. I had Dirk saddle Sweetie. She's waiting for you.”

I raise an eyebrow. “That doesn't sound like you thought I'd chicken out.”

His dimples flash. “Not really.” He reaches over and flips one of my braids. “You may look like a carefree teenager tonight, but you strike me as a woman who does the right thing at all costs.”

I used to be that woman. I glance toward the horse stalls where Jennifer pats a bay mare's neck. Or at least I thought I was. “At all costs” is an innocuous-sounding phrase until the cost becomes too high to pay. Then what?

“You okay?”

I look up, and Jack is staring at me, concern written plainly on his handsome face.

I nod and toss my braids over my shoulders. “Let's get this show on the road.”

He motions to the young cowhand he was talking to earlier, and the teen heads to the stalls. “Do you know Dirk?” Jack asks me.

I shake my head.

“He works part-time for me and part-time for your dad.”

“I'm usually at the barn pretty early—”

“And gone before anyone shows up. Yeah, I know.”

I raise an eyebrow. The dark-haired cowhand walks up, leading Sweetie. Jack introduces us, and Dirk hands me the reins. “Nice to meet you, Dr. Donovan.”

“You, too, Dirk.”

When he leaves to set up the barrels, Jack pats Sweetie's neck. “You barrel race on her?”

“Not competitively. Her mother was my barrel-racing horse.” An old pain stabs my heart. “She died when I was away at college. But she left us a real nice colt.”

He runs his hand down her smooth nose. “She sure did. It's tough to lose a horse, though.”

“Yeah, it is.” I guess I lost so much during those years that I considered it par for the course.

“So Sweetie doesn't know the barrel course?”

I feel my face burn. “Actually, I've taught her the basics on my early morning workouts over the last eight years.” I grimace. “Silly, I know.”

He shrugs. “Same workout. Only the audience is different. And I guess the prize money isn't too great either.”

I take a deep breath and step up into the saddle. “You think this will work? Jennifer has her own reasons for wanting to ride a bull.” I pray he won't press me for those reasons, and he doesn't.

“Don't we all? Let's just hope hers aren't solid enough to make her dig her heels in.”

“Let's hope.”

Sweetie and I make some warm-up laps around the arena. When I'm feeling ready to face the barrels, I glance over to Jennifer, standing next to Jack. At least I have her attention. And not just hers. All the cowboys have gathered around the white
metal fence. Toby Keith's voice blares out over the loudspeaker singing “It's a Little Too Late.”

I hold Sweetie for a few seconds at the front, gauging the distance to the front barrel and giving us both time to focus. When I'm confident that the barrels are set up in the usual way, I lean forward in the saddle. “Let's show 'em how it's done,” I whisper.

She takes off like a shot. We round the first barrel and make a beeline for the second, cutting it clean and close. Again, at the third barrel, I'm careful not to swing too wide. Adrenaline pumps through my body as we ride wide open back to the gate.

I've been to big-city rodeos with less whooping and hollering. Amid the whistles and clapping, I see Jennifer beaming.

I ride over to her and slide off Sweetie. Dirk appears to take the reins. “Thanks,” I murmur and pat my horse on the neck as I hand her over.

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