Wanted: Fairy Godmother (19 page)

A part of her still viewed that time as wondrous while the other half recalled a far more disastrous outcome. She leveled a look at him, saying, “Now what are you two up to?”

His snowy-white eyebrows shot up so high they rose over the rim of his spectacles. His innocent air didn’t play well with her. “Who, me? Why, we were just talking about heading for the rodeo, that’s all.”

Callie dropped to the ground, her undivided attention riveted on him. Reaching out, she grabbed his forearm. “You mean, go see Jake?” She couldn’t contain the ray of hope in her voice.

He smiled. “Sure thing. Les and Sissy are on the road as we speak. He never likes to miss one around these parts. And Miles City isn’t but a few hours away.”

He shrugged, trying for indifference, but failed. “It might do the young’uns good to see their cousin again. But Flossie and I would need something bigger to travel in with them. Say, your little Volkswagen bus would do the job nicely.” He nodded to her powder blue vehicle parked near the shed. “But we’d need a driver. I suppose a pretty little filly would do. What do you say?”

A lightness beamed, sweeping aside her dark, depressing thoughts plaguing her this past week. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly on his round cheek. “Gus Whittaker, I think I love you.”

“Now, don’t go telling Flossie that or she’ll get jealous,” he teased her.

She pulled back. “You remind me of Gramps sometimes, Gus.” Her voice held a trace of longing.

She watched the red flush creep up his neck and steal into his face. He coughed, clearing his throat. “He would have been mighty proud of the way you turned out, little CJ. In fact, Duke and Jasper always hoped you and Jake would get hitched and give them lots of grandbabies. Two old fools, and best friends, trying to keep their families together and growing.”

Amazement washed over her, gripping her.

“Don’t look so surprised. You never made it a secret on how you felt.”

“I was only seven,” she said softly, still awed by it all. “And Jake didn’t want anything to do with me.”

He chuckled. “Sometimes age don’t mean a lick of difference. Duke and Jasper knew what you felt for Jake was special. And as for Jake, he liked you more than he let on. He just couldn’t admit it to himself, or anyone else for that matter. He didn’t think he deserved to be loved, not when his gypsy mama abandoned him.” Gus pressed his point. “He came to your rescue whenever you needed him, didn’t he? I’ve never seen him do that for any other gal.”

Another wave of shock stole over her. Clear, cool reasoning rushed through her.

Jake cared for her then and he did now. He had to or he never would have let her stay on and help raise the boys after he found out who she really was. She hugged Gus once again, briefly, fiercely. “Can you do me a favor? Tell the boys we’re leaving as soon as I get back and throw a few things in a bag. Make sure they pack some clothes and some food for the trip.”

She waited long enough for his agreement, and then raced to her van.

“Where are you going?”

“I’ve got to see Gramps!” she threw over her shoulder, delight ringing in her tone.

Twenty minutes later, Callie pulled in to the overgrown dirt path leading to what once had been her Gramps’ ranch. A mixture of anticipation and anxiety gripped her. She’d come to prove something to herself, something she’d only guessed at, but was afraid to admit, over the last few days without Jake. Now she had to put that feeling to the test.

Drawing near, Callie halted, and then switched off the motor. Looking around, she felt nothing for the riot of tangled weeds, dirt patches, and acres and acres of desolate land. Numb, she exited her van.

Taking slow, measured steps, she walked the area where the house had stood, naming each room as she came to it.

Memories, sweet and homey, flashed through her mind. But, surprisingly, these weren’t the usual recollections she always had of the house or the land. No, these remembrances were of the dear people who lived, worked, and sometimes died here.

“Gramps,” she murmured. “It was always you that reminded me of home, wasn’t it? Not really the place.”

Turning in a small, tight circle, she gazed at the acreage. A weight fell off her shoulders, one she hadn’t known she’d carried for so long. Her heart, now light and unburdened, held the lesson she’d needed to learn: A home wasn’t a
place
-it was a state of mind, a tender spot in her heart. It was the people she loved and who loved her, no matter where they were.

“Jake,” she whispered longingly, knowing beyond a doubt her home was beside him, wherever that may lead them.

Jake adjusted his chaps, absently tightening the rawhide around his thighs. The rodeo crowd roared, dragging his attention to the brightly lit arena. The baby-faced kid, just tossed off a raging bull, ran for the wall, climbing quickly and landing at Jake’s feet.

Surprise washed over Jake. His reflexes took over. Reaching out, he grabbed the boy’s arms, keeping him upright.

“Thanks. Man, that was a close one,” he said, dusting off his dirty clothes. He grinned, a flush of excitement coloring his round face and his gray eyes sparkling. “That’s better than sex.” He laughed and then walked away. Jake watched the milling throng of people swallow the boy in their folds.

Shaking his head, he recalled a time when he’d thought the same. But not anymore, he realized in stunned wonder. Nothing felt the same any longer, especially him and his age-old dreams.

What’s happening to me?

He chuckled, a raw, grating sound. Callie had turned his life upside down and his heart inside out.

“Hey, Jake!” a familiar voice called.

Brightening, he twisted to see Les stride to him. “Good to see you.” He meant it, pleased to connect with someone from home. He didn’t realize until this moment how much he’d missed all of them. “You come alone?”

He scanned the crowd, trying to pick out a friendly face. In the back of his mind, he hoped to find Callie.

“No, Sissy drove down with me. Old Mort isn’t hootin’ and hollerin’ much anymore, so I’m taking advantage of my sudden good luck. I’m even thinking of getting hitched.”

Jake forced a smile, half of him thrilled for his longtime friend and the other half jealous as hell.

Happiness. Someone to care about you.

A wave of longing gripped Jake hard. He changed the subject. “I’m up next. Did you see the bull I drew?”

Les snorted. “As if everyone here isn’t talking about it. Satan is the devil himself.”

“You don’t need to tell me about it.”

He rotated his sore shoulder, remembering the nasty animal that put him out of commission mid-way through last season. He’d never forget the event even if he wanted to; his aching body would always remind him. And his regret, never sharper at that time, had lived inside since then, burning a hole.

So close to the championship last year. His best numbers in years.

“They’re calling you,” Les said unnecessarily as the disembodied voice squawked Jake’s name over the microphone. “Good luck, buddy.” He patted Jake on the shoulder.

“I’m gonna need it,” Jake muttered, feeling numb as he walked the last few feet to the bullpen.

None of the usual hunger resided in his gut. His heartbeat thumped even and predictable. His senses, normally heightened as the minutes ticked away, seemed almost dull, muted. Even the sharp, pungent odor of animals and their waste didn’t awaken his deadened state.

Climbing the metal rails, his thoughts centered on the ranch. He wondered if Stan figured out the glitch in the computer program he worked on. Or if Marvin sent another failed invention sailing through the shed roof. And Lance, he mused, should be teaching Callie more cooking lessons.

The boy’s ominous warning about her brownies proved true. Jake had a difficult time parting with the rock-like treat, though, thinking how hard she’d tried for him.

“Callie,” he whispered, feeling the tug behind his rib cage. An ache, sweet and heady, flooded him.

At the top now, looking down at the black, hairy back of the restless bull penned in the small, rectangular shoot, he blocked everything from his mind. If he intended to live, he had to concentrate and focus on the ride.

Seconds later, after several of the regular rodeo helpers assisted him, Jake settled on the bull’s back, gripping the rope in his left hand, palm side up and flexing his hand for a firm fit.

The fourteen-hundred-pound animal shifted, trying to unseat Jake. He felt the thick, rippling muscles contract beneath him.

Contained power
, Jake mused.

“He’s gonna go right on you, Jake,” someone from above offered helpfully as Jake pulled the rope end neatly around his fisted hand.

“He’s going left, fellas,” Jake said, taking Stan’s predictions into account. If Stan said Satan went left fifty-eight percent of the time, then Jake would go with that statistic.

If you can’t trust your family, then who can you trust?
“Set!” he yelled, letting the men know he was ready.

The metal shoot opened. Satan bounded out, turning left. Jake, with his right hand raised, moved with the bucking bull. Holding on for dear life, he adjusted his movements to each twist and buck.

Flashes of the arena and crowd shafted by. The shouts and screams rose into a crescendo the longer he stayed on. A portion of him picked out the bull’s bellows. He detected the animal’s stench, and part of his mind registered the lengthening seconds stretching as the rocking and rolling increased when Satan’s ire crested.

The eight-second buzzer blasted the air and still Jake refused to relinquish his hold. Perspiration dribbled in rivulets down his forehead and into his eyes, stinging and blurring.

Every bone in his body ached at the jarring ride. He dragged in ragged breaths, feeling the constricting specially designed flak jacket Marvin made for him. The brightly painted rodeo clowns came into his line of vision, hands waving and shouting.

The end of the run for me.

Jake kicked loose and jumped to the ground. He crashed to his side, a shaft of white-hot pain ripping through his tender shoulder. He turned over onto his back and watched in alarm as Satan, horns pointed straight at him, bore down on Jake.

***

“Oh, no, I can’t look,” Callie said, shielding her eyes and turning away as she watched from the crowded stands. All around her people stood, oohhing and aahing over Jake’s predicament.

“It’s all right, sugar, you can look now. He’s rolled away and is on his feet.” Flossie, decked out in all her Western finery, jabbed her elbow into Callie.

Her heart began to pump once again. Dropping her hands, she picked out a fleeing Jake immediately. He jumped to the railing, and then hoisted himself over the side to safety.

“Man, I thought for sure the bull would spear him,” Lance said, shock filling his squeaky voice.

“Me, too,” she said numbly, bathed in a fine sheen of perspiration.

Gus, sitting on the other side of Flossie, peeked around his lady friend, saying, “He hurt his bad shoulder on the landing. Maybe I should go check on him, make certain he’s all right.”

“Maybe Callie could do that for you, sweetie.” Flossie leaned close to Gus, whispering in his ear. Her newly dyed red hair, streaked with yellow highlights, seemed to be a beckon in the crowd.

He grunted, obviously agreeing with whatever Flossie suggested. Callie grew suspicious of the pair. “What are you two up to this time?”

Marvin, sitting directly behind Callie, cried out, “Look at the board!”

“Hot dang, Jake’s in first place!” Stan shouted with joy.

Happiness filled Callie, spreading to her heart. A wealth of pride stole over her as the hundreds of still standing audience members went wild.

She turned to Flossie, pulling the woman close so she could hear. “I’m going to find Jake and congratulate him.”

Callie made her way out of the stadium, tripping over a big pair of well-worn boots. The older man smiled, revealing his deeply wrinkled, leathery skin. He set her back on her feet.

Grateful, she nodded her thanks, and then gingerly walked the last few steps before reaching the ramp to the grounds. As she dodged the throng of passing people and skirted the tail end of a few feisty horses, her mind swirled with doubts and questions.

How will Jake react to me being here?
she wondered, her belly dipping with anxiety.
Would he welcome her or toss her out on her behind? And, most of all, would he be receptive to her newest plan for the guys, Jake, and her?

All I can do is try.
“And keep my fingers crossed,” she murmured under her breath.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Jake heading for the barn where many of the riding horses stayed. Her heart jumped to her throat, lodging itself there. She pushed and shoved aside the circle of cowboys in front of her, saying, “Excuse me, fellas.”

“Where’s the fire, honey?” one called out as she raced to keep up with a fast-disappearing Jake.

The dimly lit interior of the old weathered barn swallowed Jake up instantly, sending panic coursing through her veins. Finally, she gained the entrance, watching his clearly defined silhouette walk the long, wide corridor to the opposite exit.

“Jake!” she yelled out, rushing to him.

He halted in the center of the aisle, appearing frozen in place.

Her heart dropped from her throat and plummeted to her knees when he failed to turn to her. She stopped two feet away from his broad, uncompromising back. Reaching out, she fingered the rip in his shirt, realizing the bull speared him and relieved that the horn hadn’t dug into the flak jacket.

Pulling back, she drew her hand behind her back and crossed her fingers. “Aren’t you even going to say hello, Cowboy?”

Slowly, as if he had all the time in the world, he pivoted. Now facing her, he shoved his hat to the back of his head.

A well of love swept through her. She looked her fill, devouring each heart-stopping feature. Finally, she dragged her gaze back to his darkening brandy-colored eyes. “I bet you’re wondering what I’m doing here, right?”