Dream a Little Dream (13 page)

She smiled and moved closer. “How did you end up in Mule Hollow?”

He grinned at her. “I was on my way to the finals in Las Vegas and had a flat just outside of Mule Hollow. I'd traveled that road four years in a row and that year I decided to take a shortcut. Don't know why I did it,
but I did, and for the first time ever I had a flat tire. I was just finishing up putting on the spare when Clint stopped to see if I needed a hand. We got to talking, ended up driving to Sam's for lunch and before I left, he offered me a job if I ever got tired of bullfighting.”

He and Clint had clicked immediately. “I thought about his offer and about Mule Hollow all the way to Vegas. I couldn't get it out of my head. I'd been looking for the Lord to lead me to the right place and I liked the wide-open spaces and the people, few that there were.” He smiled. “When I got to Vegas, all through the event I had to force myself to focus. That's not a good thing when you have people depending on you. You earn the opportunity to be a bullfighter at the Pro Bull Rider's finals. The top bull riders in the association have to vote you in. They have to say they're willing to trust their lives to the bullfighters they vote for. It's an honor that I didn't take lightly. If I couldn't focus solely on their safety, it was time to move on. When the three days were over, I packed up my gear and came back to Mule Hollow.”

She was studying him. “When did you move your things here?”

He looked at the ground then lifted his head to smile at her. “Everything I owned was in the camper of my truck. When I was in between events I stayed with buddies. I was ready to settle down.” He knew what it was like to own nothing because you were just passing through.

“That quick?” She said the words as if they were a mystery.

“Yeah, that quick.”

 

Bob was sleeping. Molly stood over him, relieved to see the tension relaxed from his face as he rested. By the time they'd made the walk back to the house, Bob had been in a world of pain. His shortness of breath and the drawn look in his eyes couldn't be hidden from her. She had to practically shove the medicine down his throat in order to get him to take it. But once he'd realized she wasn't backing down, he'd given in. That alone spoke volumes for the way he was feeling. But the man acted as if he didn't want to go to sleep.

She'd helped him settle into the recliner. They'd decided it might ease the transition from sitting to lying down which, as Bob had described the feeling, was a fate worse than death. Thankfully the recliner worked well.

Very gently she spread the soft blanket over him and again couldn't resist lightly brushing a dark curl off his forehead. The man was brave, powerful and dear. Some woman was going to be so lucky—no, the word was
blessed
. Some lucky woman was going to be so
blessed
to become Mrs. Bob Jacobs. From a distance she'd believed he would be the perfect husband. Now she knew it firsthand. She wanted him to have the life he wanted. He deserved it.

Her heart suddenly ached and she turned away, walking back to the kitchen. She pulled her laptop from her backpack and sat at the kitchen table only to find herself analyzing his home once more instead of writing.

Home was so important to him. It was enough to make a girl want to settle down and join in on the dream.

Whoa! Back up there, Molly girl
.

That thought sent her racing outside to a chair on the porch. She had a column to turn in and an article to wrap up—the distractions of Bob's home were not going to let her take care of business. Her mind set, she settled into a patio chair and focused on her work, not her increasing inner turmoil.

An hour later, she finished and reread her work. It was a little different. It had a different tone from her other work, but she liked it. She liked it a lot. Instead of the lighter airy voice she normally used for her Mule Hollow pieces, today there was a bit more introspection in her work. She had started the article exploring the reasons behind significant life-changing decisions. Namely, people reaching the crossroads in their lives when they decide the time has come to settle down. And even though the article made no mention of Mule Hollow or Bob, they had both planted the seed. Bob's sudden and definitive decision to instantly change his life intrigued her. Plus, she'd originally been drawn to Mule Hollow because Lacy had moved here so quickly and decisively. Molly scanned the article, convinced people would be as interested as she was. She just needed to add in statistics on the percentage of people who changed their lives on whims. Then she would tweak it a bit and send it out. She knew immediately which magazine she would target first.

Making a living as a freelance writer was like juggling. In order to sell, she constantly kept numerous articles in circulation at all times. Not all would get picked up by magazines or periodicals, but she was developing relationships with several editors and gaining a feel for
just the slant an article needed to fit each one. She made a decent wage and she sometimes wondered why she dreamed of writing grittier, more journalistic fare when the strong point of her work was the down-home charm she brought to the plate. She was very good at what she did. But was she good enough to make it in the world outside the safe boundaries of rural America?

And did she really want to? Had she dreamed a little dream as a frightened kid and that was merely all it was to be? All she truly wanted it to be?

Less than a week ago she'd not allowed herself to entertain this question. It had seemed that doing so was a sign she was giving up on her dream. And she would fight tooth and nail to hang on to that dream.

But suddenly it was a question she couldn't seem to stop thinking about.

She lowered her head and prayed for discernment. As a fairly new Christian, she was learning that God gave freely of Himself, but had she been asking the right questions?

T
he following morning, Molly arrived at Bob's to find him standing on the porch deep in discussion with Clint.

“Hey, Molly, how's it going?” Clint asked as she carried John Boy up the gravel path.

“Bob,” she scolded. “What are you doing?” He looked as if he hadn't slept at all. “You are pushing yourself too hard.”

He frowned. “Good morning to you, too, Sunshine.”

She knit her eyebrows together and glared at him. “Clint, he acts like he's not all broken up inside.”

Clint pushed the rim of his hat up with his thumb and laughed. “Most cowboys have had a broken rib at some point. That's part of the business. Hazard of the job. If we didn't fight being down, we'd be in the wrong profession.”

Bob lifted an eyebrow at her. “See.”

Molly shook her head. They were like boys.

Clint looked from her to Bob. “Well, I'll get going. I'll check with you when I get back up to the barn, Bob.”

“Is something wrong?” She looked from Clint to Bob.

“Yesterday Clint noticed a couple a babies that weren't nursing like they need to be so he's about to go round them up and bring them to the pens by the barn so we can bottle-feed them.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Molly had been itching to get in a little ranch experience. Experience was the spice of a reporter's words.

“Have you ever bottle-fed?” Clint asked.

“Nope. But it can't be that hard.”

Bob grinned and Clint laughed hard.

“You sound like Lacy,” Clint said, his good-looking face lighting up at the mention of Lacy. “She didn't think it would be difficult either until she did it.”

Did they think she couldn't care for a calf? “Lacy bottle-fed a calf?”

His expression softened. “Oh yeah, after a bit. Now she treats those cows like kids. If they weren't so big she'd load them up in that pink monstrosity of hers and take them on one of her beloved joyrides.”

Lacy loved joyriding in her pink convertible. She was the most spontaneous, life-loving, God-loving person Molly had ever met. She inspired Molly to let go and try new things, like feeding calves. Molly lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. “Could I try feeding them?” She looked at Bob then back to Clint. “I mean, Bob can't, and you have plenty of other more important things to do. Right?”

He studied her for a moment. “That's up to Bob. I'll be back.”

“Well, what do you think?” she asked, not liking the skepticism in Bob's eyes

“They can get pushy and obstinate.”

“So, are you telling me not to attempt it?”

“No, of course you can do it. I just don't want you taking on more than you can handle. Molly, I already hate the thought of you putting your life on hold for me. I don't want you having to tend to my other problems, too.”

She plopped a hand to her hip. So that was it. “I thought we talked about this. I got you into this and I'm going to get you out of it. And if that includes taking care of some of your livestock then so be it. Besides, I want to find out what is so intriguing about the cowboy way of life. I want some hands-on experience. This will be fun!” Cowboys loved their jobs. It seemed they enjoyed going to work even though the work was long and hard. She was intrigued by that. She wanted to experience the why of it all. It would enhance her articles.

“All right,” he said. “If you'll help me put on my boot, I'll help you get the gear together and instruct you on how it's done.”

“I'm sure Clint can show me. The barn is farther away than the tree was yesterday. There's no need for you to push yourself that hard.”

“Molly. Stop. I'm not a baby, and no matter how much you try, I am not sitting around the house all day. If I've got calves that need attention, I'm going to at least check on them. Besides, I can't let you have all the fun now, can I?”

It was like arguing with a fence post. “Fine,” she snapped. “But you have to at least take some aspirin.” He was a stubborn man. She was just starting to realize how much. If he wanted to hurt himself then she couldn't stop him. She wasn't his mother. She wondered about his mother. About his past. About why he'd been an angry teenager.

“Wait here,” she said. She stalked into the kitchen and yanked a bottle of over-the-counter pain medicine from the cabinet. She doubted that it would do any more than take the edge off his pain, but at least it would be something.

The man needed a keeper.

Problem was, she'd been his keeper for all of three days now and she was realizing that she liked the job way too much!

 

“Molly, you can't be afraid of him if you want to catch him.”

Molly stood in the center of the stall, staring at the sleek black calf with the huge droopy ears. She had seen cattle out in the pastures, but hadn't ever really paid a lot of attention to anything different about the Brahman breed except that they did have those huge humps on their backs. Now, standing in the pen staring at the good-size baby cow, she was realizing that with their floppy ears they looked like gigantic hound dogs. The baby standing in front of her was not a hound dog though. He was actually a deceptive little con artist.

And far, far from the tiny baby she'd expected. He
had to weigh a hundred pounds, maybe two. Not a newborn as she'd been expecting. Looking at him, she felt like a city gal on the reality TV series
Cowboy U
.

He blinked at her and gave her an
I'm just a little baby
look. Oh sure, a con artist was exactly what he was, standing there pretending to be all shy and docile with his dreamy black eyes and his velvety nose when in fact she knew the truth.

Docile, ha! After two embarrassing failed attempts at catching him, and one sore backside, she knew the hard truth. Despite the calm way he batted his big eyelids at her, he'd evaded capture with the ease of a greased pig! A big pig.

This was a kink in her offer she hadn't thought about. “I guess I figured the little darlings were going to just come up and take the bottle from me. Imagine that. What a dunce I was. Just like I thought they were going to be about fifty pounds, too.”

“If it didn't hurt so much, I'd laugh at that one.”

Molly shot him a glare. He'd been standing there on the outside of the fence calmly giving her directions as if he was choreographing a ballet or something. He had the patience of Job, but sadly she had no talent. Maybe she couldn't do this.

She straightened her shirt, pushed her hair out of her face, sucked in her gut and stared down at the calf. She had not been beaten. Oh no. She'd tried cooing sweetly to him—that had got her slammed into the gate as he kicked and bucked away from her. She'd tried begging—that had got her pretty much the same response and a “please don't beg my cows” groan from Bob.

So now she was trying the firm, calm approach.

“There, that's better, Molly. You can do this. Just be more aggressive and I promise you before the night is over you will have fed both calves. Now show him who the boss is. Get dirty if you have to.”

“I am dirty. Didn't you see me hit the dirt in that first fiasco?”

“Yeah, I saw it. Now that you aren't worried about it anymore, you'll get him. Pretend you're Clint Eastwood.”

“What?” Molly glared at him again.

“Yeah, that's it, Dirty Harry. Now walk him into that corner and grab him around the neck.”

Molly's mouth dropped. “Are you telling me I look like Clint Eastwood? I mean, really, he's a good-looking man, but I don't think you're getting Brownie points right now, buster.”

Bob did laugh at that and then groaned, and Molly cringed, seeing the pain on his face. But really, you didn't tell a girl she looked like Dirty Harry.

“Molly,” he said, taking a deep breath. “All I'm saying is get more of that ‘Do you feel lucky?' kind of attitude and go for it. Believe me, on your worst day times a hundred, you could not look like a man.”

Molly pushed back her shoulders at the compliment and smiled apologetically. “Oh.” Now that sounded more like it. Taking a deep breath, she spread her feet shoulder width apart, shook her hands and rolled her shoulders to loosen them up. Then she gave the calf a glare. “So tell me,” she said as he blinked at her and flopped one foot-size ear so that it slapped the side of his neck. It was obvious he couldn't care less about
anything she had to say. But she said it anyway. “Do you feel lucky? Or are you going to make my day?”

He lowered his sleek head, and his ears almost touched the soft dirt as Molly made her move. Having learned from her earlier mistakes, she faked right then dove left just as he bolted straight into her waiting arms! With a whoop she snagged him around the neck as Bob had instructed her earlier and held on with every tired fiber of her being. But he refused to give in easily. “Oh no you're not. Don't you know I just want to feed you?” She dug her heels in and skittered across the soft dirt, her right arm locked around his neck. Her teeth and her brain rattled in her head like gravel on spin cycle, but she hung on.

“You've got him. Don't let go,” Bob yelled.

She had him! And then he put on the brakes, did a Houdini and she flipped like a pancake and splatted facefirst in the soft dirt.

“Molly. You okay?”

Coughing, she lay still, berating herself for once more letting the baby get the best of her.

“Molly?”

She gritted her teeth, regretting it immediately when she chewed the dirt. “I'm okay. You win. This cowboy thing is not as easy as it looks.”

“You're doing fair. Really. You should have seen me at my first calf scramble. I was hot, tired and as filthy as you are.”

She looked up and crawled to her knees. “Is that so?”

“Yup. But I got one in the end. You just can't give up.”

“Am I going to have to do this every time I try to feed
them?” Although she'd been warned, she could only take so much abuse.

“Believe it or not after a couple of times, they're going to love you like their mother. You'll be like ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb.' You'll just have two huge Brahman bulls following behind you.”

“Wonderful.” She pictured these two young bulls as adults, massive walls of muscle, their powerful shoulders and the huge signature hump on their backs tagging along behind her. And their long ears, which seemed at odds with such an intimidating animal, flopping in the wind. “I can't picture that,” she said, grunting as she stood up. She could however imagine what she looked like. Pigpen from the
Peanuts
clan came to mind. So much for being thrilled that Bob thought she was cute. She spit out the dirt in her mouth, which she was certain made her all the more appealing. Especially when she had to do it a second time.

Slick was standing there batting his eyes at her again and they were actually close to the corner, which gave her hope. Bob had been saying to keep him in the corner. With a valiant effort Molly dove—and caught him! One more time.

“There you go. Now throw a leg over him.”

“A leg? What do you mean, a leg?”

“You have to throw a leg over him, wrap your left arm under his neck to hold him in place and then when I hand you the bottle you have to force him to take it.”

“What do you mean, force it? He won't just take it?”

“Sorry. That's just the way it is. After a while they learn.”

“Yeah, but what about in the meantime?” She was hanging on to him, in the corner with every muscle in her body. Grunting with effort, she threw her leg over his back, planted her feet and locked his shoulders with her thighs as he bucked.

“Oh no, you don't,” she growled. Just like Bob had instructed, she slid her arm around his neck, maneuvered her elbow under his chin, and suddenly she actually felt some control. Oh, my goodness. She finally had the upper hand!

“Here's the bottle.”

Glancing up, she took the offered bottle. It was about the size of a two-quart pitcher and the red bottle nipple was huge. Taking it in her hand she pushed it toward the calf's mouth. He tried to spit it away, but Molly hadn't come this far to take no for an answer.

“Come on, sweetie, I know you're just a scared baby and I want to take care of you.” She wasn't certain if it was the gentle urgings or the prayer she was praying, but after a couple of tries he started smacking away at the formula. “Look, he's doing it!” she exclaimed, sporting a grin so big it felt like it was coming up from her toes. She'd never been so grateful in all her life. Or so rewarded.

Or so slimed!

Laughing, she struggled to maintain a grip on the large bottle as the baby got greedy—smacking and tugging and slobbering all over the place.

She could hear Bob on the other side of the fence fighting laughter and she glanced over at him. His eyes were sparkling and his dimples were showing despite
the pain on his face from the mixture of laughter and broken ribs.

She knew she was filthy, but it didn't matter. She had never felt so satisfied in all of her life.

He'd said the cowboy life could be addictive. Looking at him, she knew it was true, especially with Bob working beside her.

A bawling cry drew her attention and as she turned her head she was greeted by a big wet nose when curious Baby Two stepped up beside her.

“I think the second one might be a little easier on you,” Bob said, a smile in his voice. “He knows something good is going on for his buddy. Are you up for it?”

Molly looked from Bob to the calf, which was nudging the arm that held the bottle for the first calf, and she smiled. She'd almost forgotten she had another calf to go. “Oh yeah. I'm in all right,” she laughed. If she hadn't been afraid of scaring the babies she'd have hollered a good ol' Texas yee-haw! Which was something totally out of character for her.