More Than a Cowboy

“Then why not just say so?” Silence hung between them like dust in an arena.

Her heart dropped. Caught in the deception. She glanced at her watch and moved around Spinner. “I don’t know.

“I watched the replays.”

Her fist clenched in the animal’s mane. “Is there a point to all this? You weren’t in there. You don’t know. I have to go.”

Jared stepped aside. His hand, large and rough, touched her wrist. She shivered again.

“Don’t go far, Haley,” he said. “There’s more to this than what you’ve told me. I can find truth in the most unlikely places. You and I are not through.”

Haley tugged on Spinner’s reins and rushed from the paddock without looking back. Jared had her so confused she didn’t know which way was up. Behind the barns, she bent over, rested her hands on her knees, and gulped in waves of fresh air, but it didn’t stem the nausea rising to her throat. Spinner nuzzled her neck and nickered.

She led the horse into the barn. When she chanced a look behind her there was no sign of Jared, but she could still feel his power, the air of authority surrounding him, the tingle along her skin that remained long after she’d pulled away from him.

He’d thrown down an invisible gauntlet, and instinct told her he would stop at nothing to discover the truth.

The sun dropped behind the horizon, painting the sky a dark orange. Hap plugged the horse trailer lights into his truck and rechecked the hitch and safety chains, while Haley hooked the camper to her truck.

“Never known you to run from nothing,” he said.

Haley placed a finger to her lips and watched Sarah stuff a horse blanket into Hap’s truck cab. If she and Sarah could get safely back to Hap’s place, Jared would have a hard time finding them.

“There’s no reason to stay when there’s work waiting at home.”

“It’s not fair,” Sarah said, sticking her lips out. “Why don’t you go? Hap and I can come later. After the finals. We never miss the finals.”

“We’ll go together,” Haley said.

Sarah’s eyes watered in frustration. “Can I go and at least say goodbye to my friends?”

Haley’s heart thudded like a trapped rabbit. “Go. But stay in sight of the truck. I don’t want to have to come looking for you. You’ve got ten minutes.”

Hap’s silent disapproval cut into the evening air louder than the music coming from the midway. She never should have told him everything.

“Runnin’ stinks, don’t it?” he said.

Haley moved toward her own truck, which seemed to groan beneath the weight of the camper. “I’m protecting Sarah.”

“He’s her family, too.”

“How do I know he’s any different than Mitch?”

“You don’t.”

Haley locked the camper door and leaned her head against the cool metal. “Don’t, Hap. Don’t take his side. What if he finds out about Sarah?”

Hap patted her arm, then squeezed her shoulder.

“Sarah’s mine. She can’t know where she came from. She’s too young.” Haley turned and leaned against him.

“You didn’t do nothin’ wrong, girl. You can’t run from this.”

Haley’s eyes misted. “Sarah doesn’t need any family but you and me.”

“Maybe God thinks otherwise.”

“Don’t,” she said.

Hap’s rough hand stroked her hair. “Ain’t you forgettin’? Sarah’s God’s child. There’s a reason He placed her with you—a reason He allowed her to come into this world the way she did. And there’s a reason this man is here now.”

Haley spun around, grabbed the camper jack and rammed it into the truck bed. “Well, I wish God would enlighten me.”

“Maybe you ain’t listenin’. Wouldn’t be the first time,” he said.

Haley jammed her hat onto her head. “I suppose you’re going to tell me too that God had a reason for Mitch being here and a reason that I…played a part in killing him.” She brushed away a tear.

“You didn’t kill nobody.”

“If it had been any other cowboy…”

“What’s written is written, honey. And God holds the pen that does the writin’.”

She kicked a rock and sent it flying across the parking lot. “I don’t want him poking around.”

Hap stroked his chin. “Secrets won’t stay hidden forever.”

Haley caught Sarah’s glance, the rebellious look still in her eyes.

Hap motioned Sarah to wait. “Face the man now. Don’t wait for him to come to you.”

“Tell him what his brother was and seal our fate? Not a chance.”

Hap raked a hand through his silver hair and sighed. “Stay and finish this. I’ll take Sarah home with me and you won’t need to mention her at all.”

Haley rubbed her arms, feeling a chill in the warm air.

“You need to make him see that you are sorry the boy died.” Hap pinned her with his gaze. “You are sorry, aren’t you?”

“You know I am.”

“He needs to that.” Hap tipped his hat back.

“I do feel responsible, Hap. Responsible and…relieved. It was an accident, but with Mitch gone, I thought that now it was finally over. I could put an end to all those bad dreams. What does that say about me?”

“That you’re human and that you can’t do this alone.” Hap scuffed his toe in the dust. “Haley, you gotta let God help with this.”

Haley glanced at Sarah and swallowed the knot in her throat. Hap could very well be right. But trusting didn’t come easy. Especially where God was concerned. She wasn’t sure it ever would. “I can’t. But I will stay. I’ll finish this.”

Hap gave a satisfied nod and loaded the horses in his trailer. “I’ll get the rest of the stuff from the barn,” he said.

The memory of Jared’s dark eyes filled her mind, how their warmth the day he’d bumped in to her outside the Fellowship tent had both touched and frightened her, how they’d gleamed like hard shards of rock when he’d questioned her about the accident and knowing Mitch.

She’d backed herself into a corner, and he knew it. If he pushed her too far, he wouldn’t like what she had to say. She rechecked the hitch and chains on the camper and fished in her pocket for the keys. Footsteps crunched the gravel behind her.

“I’m almost ready, Hap.”

She turned around and stared straight into Jared’s flashing dark eyes.

“Going somewhere?” he asked.

She searched frantically for Hap, then saw Sarah wave to her friends and skip toward her.

Chapter Four

Jared watched the child approach. Her movements smacked with familiarity, rekindling old memories of another time and place, memories of a young boy with unruly jet-black hair tagging along behind him with the same bounce in his step and tilt to his head. The puzzle pieces were starting to come together. The first shock wave knocked him like a mule’s kick.

Every movement right down to her furrowed brow bore traces of the brother he’d lost. Her black hair refused to be tamed by braids and streamed in a tangled mass around her face. She lifted her chin and darted a look at him. Another shock wave ripped through Jared, pain so intense it stole his breath.

“Hi. I’m Sarah,” she said holding his gaze with gray-green eyes.

Jared opened his mouth but nothing came out. This child was a feminine replica of Mitch. She had to be Mitch’s daughter. Obviously Haley hadn’t expected to see Mitch again. That was the reason he’d seen recognition and shock on the replay tapes, the reason her answers were less than satisfactory. Sarah was the secret Haley was hiding, the secret that may have cost Mitch his life.

The color drained from Haley’s face. Like a bear protecting her young, she moved between him and Sarah. “Sarah Rose. Go to the barn and find Hap,” she said.

“But, Mom—”

“Go. Now.”

Sarah bounced an uncertain look between them and raced toward the barn. Jared watched until she was out of sight. He wanted to reach out and touch her, make sure she was real. She was so like Mitch it made him ache. Haley had kept Sarah from Mitch, from Walt, from all of them. Why? Anger waged a tug of war inside him.

“She’s Mitch’s daughter, isn’t she, Haley? Did he know?” The question nearly choked him. “What really happened in the arena the night Mitch died?”

He heard the steel in his own voice. She winced, then grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the truck, away from the barns and from Sarah. “She’s my daughter. Go away. You have no right to hound me.”

“Mitch’s death gives me that right,” he said looking toward the barn. Jared shook with rage. Only God would be able to help her if he was right. “Look me in the eye and tell me that child isn’t his and that you didn’t deliberately keep her from him. From her grandparents.”

She couldn’t. She knew it and so did he. “Sarah has a right to know her family,” he said. “We just lost Mitch, and Sarah is a living part of him. We have a right to know her.” His chest tightened. He fisted his hands against his sides.

Haley flattened herself against the truck. “You have no rights and neither did Mitch. He lost that the second he left me behind that—”

She covered her mouth with her hand. She wouldn’t—couldn’t—think about that night or speak of it ever. Not with this man or any other. The fury in Jared’s eyes terrified her. The realization of what he wanted, expected, was unthinkable.

She looked toward the barn and saw Sarah pulling Hap toward them, his bum leg sliding in the dirt, kicking dust into the evening air. “I can’t talk to you about this now.”

He followed her gaze. His eyes narrowed when they rested on Sarah, then softened. For a moment she thought he would refuse, that he would lie in wait, snatch Sarah away and disappear. A hand clenched around her soul.

“When?” he said.

“Tomorrow. I’ll meet you at the bull pens in the morning.”

His gaze shifted back to her and hardened. “Be there, Haley. If you run, I’ll find you.”

He spun around without looking back and disappeared into the crowd, his threat hanging in the air like heavy fog. Haley’s whole body shook. She gripped the truck and gulped in a breath, felt Hap and Sarah’s presence behind her, then Hap’s hand touched her shoulder and Sarah’s small fingers closed around hers.

“Mom? Are you okay? Who was that man?”

The endless night finally broke, sending a streak of red across the horizon. Haley headed toward the bull pens taking comfort in the familiar surroundings. Meeting Jared felt safer with Hap and Sarah out of Wyoming and back in Colorado, even if she hadn’t answered Sarah’s questions to satisfaction. One more strike against Jared Sinclair.

The sounds and smells around the stock pens rose in the morning air. Haley slowed her step, then stopped. Jared stood in front of Resurrection’s pen, his profile outlined beneath a wide-brimmed hat. His arms were draped over the top rail, his eyes locked on the bull. She wondered if he, too, had been avoiding Resurrection’s pen. Even from a distance, she saw his chin tighten, then his hand brushed over his face.

Her heart squeezed. He was an enemy, a threat to herself and Sarah. She couldn’t see him as a man grieving a loss, but she couldn’t ignore it either.

“I’m here,” she said.

Jared lifted his head, turned and faced her. Shadows lingered beneath his eyes. He hadn’t shaved and the stubble darkening his face made him forbidding. She took a backward step.

“I should have been here,” Jared said.

His pain mingled with her own. Haley ignored the warning buzzing in her head. “It wouldn’t have mattered,” she said. “There are no rules with Resurrection. You couldn’t have stopped what happened.” She hesitated a moment, then added, “Neither could I.”

“We’ll never know for certain,” he said pulling his jacket collar up. “But that’s not why we’re here, is it? You see, Haley, it’s not the beginning or the end that matters most now. It’s the space in between.”

The space that included Sarah. The beginning did matter, to her, but he loved his brother. Sympathy vanished in a rush of white-hot anger. “Don’t presume you know me or anything about me.”

His gaze traveled her face, then locked on her eyes. Haley wished she could crawl inside his head and know what he was thinking. This guessing was like falling off a cliff in slow motion.

“That’s the whole point. None of us really know anything, do we? I’ll make this clear and direct. Sarah has a grandfather who feels he’s lost everything. The truth is, he hasn’t.” Tense silence stretched between them. “Mitch isn’t here to speak for himself, so I’ll do it for him. He deserves justice for what you kept from him. I want you and Sarah to come to South Dakota to meet…”

Haley gasped, certain Resurrection had gut kicked her, but the animal stood quietly, his nose buried in a mound of alfalfa. Her legs threatened to buckle. She shook her head.

Jared lifted a brow. “Is that a no?” he said in a harsh, raw voice.

She looked up, forcing herself to meet his gaze without flinching. “That’s a never.”

“Mitch made bad choices for a lot of years,” Jared said. “In the last few months, he’d turned his life around. He was pulling things together. Trying to right the wrongs.”

“And for that he deserves…what?”

His eyes flashed. Haley moved to the corral and stared at Resurrection. Jared moved beside her. “After I left you last night, I thought a lot about everything that’s happened. Mitch walked away from you and Sarah. Away from his responsibilities. I get that. I think I understand some things that I didn’t before.”

Haley’s hand fisted. “You understand nothing!” She raised her fist to strike him. He caught her hand, his grip around her wrist powerful and painful. She trembled but stared him down.

If he wanted the truth, she could stomp him into the dust with it. But she couldn’t revisit a place that had taken her years to get past. His grip tightened. She struggled, kicking at his legs.

“Haley. Stop it.”

He released her. She stepped back. Several people were staring at them. She turned away and gripped the corral panels with shaking hands. The wound that had never really healed ripped open.

“Sometimes people aren’t what you think they are,” she said. “Sometimes by the time you figure that out, the chute’s already opened and it’s too late to change the ride. Don’t do this.” He didn’t touch her again, but she felt his hold, like a noose around her neck.

“This isn’t negotiable, Haley. You can tell your daughter about her father or leave it to a court. Bottom line is she has more family than just you.” He pulled a pen and paper from his pocket and jotted down a number. “It’s time to make things right,” he said, his tone softening. “If I don’t hear from you in three days, I’ll come to Colorado and get you.”

Haley’s throat closed. “You wouldn’t.”

Jared took her hand and crammed the paper into her palm. “Three days. Call me.”

Four hours later Haley pulled into the gravel lane leading to Hap’s ranch. She backed the truck and camper under the old pole barn, shut off the engine and leaned back. Gray weathered boards with peeling white paint covered the old house. The out-buildings were ancient and in need of repair, but it was home. The only real home she’d ever known. Her throat tightened. She opened the door and slid from the seat. Across the barnyard, a door slammed. Gravel crunched beneath running feet. Sarah slid to a stop beside the truck, then threw her arms around Haley’s waist.

“You’re back. I’m sorry I was mad at you last night. Hap said you had to take care of a grown-up thing.”

Haley looked into Sarah’s gray-green eyes. The innocence and resiliency of her own childhood seemed like a distant memory but one she needed to preserve in Sarah.

How much she had lost. But how much she had gained.

“Hap’s in the barn. Annie had her puppies last night. He said he needed to talk to you as soon as you got home.”

“Then I’ll go see him.”

Sarah headed for the house. Haley crossed the barnyard and pulled the barn door open. Bales of fresh hay filled the usually musty barn with a fresh, clean scent.

Hap rose, lifting two squirmy mounds of black and white in his gnarled hands. “Born last night, just after we got home,” he said. “Nice pups. Should bring a good price.” He set the pups down and avoided looking at her. “Sam McIntosh called.”

Air whooshed from Haley’s lungs. “Sam?” She managed to choke out the association president’s name. “What did he want?”

“Seems someone has requested an inquiry into Mitch’s accident. Sam thought you should know.”

Someone. Jared.

Haley’s legs wobbled. She slid onto a bale and stared at the ground.

“You’re on leave until the official inquiry is closed,” Hap said quietly.

Suspended. Her livelihood and hard-earned reputation hung in the balance, dangling from a hangman’s noose. And she knew who held the rope.

“Sam said it’s just a formality and he was sure the ruling would be in your favor. Guess I don’t need to ask how your meeting with Sinclair went.”

Three days passed like a year. Every day Haley watched the road, waiting for Jared to make good on his promise. He was never far from her thoughts, and she hated the way he’d taken root in her mind, and stolen her sense of security and peace. She sent Sarah into town with Hap, knowing full well it would incur Jared’s anger if he arrived and she wasn’t there, but if he thought she would lie down and play dead so he could issue ultimatums and walk all over her, he could think again.

She drew Annie’s pup close to her face, relishing the softness of newborn puppy. Tiny claws flailed against her cheek. The black nose scrunched, then a wet tongue latched around her nose and suckled. The scent of puppy breath lingered on her skin, fresh and new, helpless and innocent. Innocent. The word seemed to taunt her.

Mourning doves cooed in the barn rafters. Haley lifted her head and watched the sun slant through the weathered boards. This place had once been her refuge. As a child she used to come here and pour her heart out to God, just as Sarah sometimes did now. She had faith then. It all seemed like another lifetime. If she sought God’s help again, would He hear or turn a deaf ear to her plea like that night so long ago?

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