A Cowboy's Heart

Maybe she’d found what she was looking for here, with Janie, and cattle? He could understand that. He’d lived in cities, small towns, and here, on land that had been in his family for nearly one hundred years. He preferred this place to any other.

“It won’t be easy,” she spoke in quiet tones, “for any of you.”

“No, it won’t. But I wanted to make sure it’s okay with you. Now there will be me and two little boys underfoot.”

She smiled. “Of course it’s okay. We’ll do whatever we can to help you out.”

“I appreciate that.” He headed for the barn, following her, and still wondering what had put the shadows in her eyes.

But he didn’t have time to think about it, to worry about it. He had to think about his dad, and now about Jenna and the boys.

Chapter Three

Clint walked through the halls of the nursing home, not at all soothed by the green walls that were probably meant to keep people calm. Even with his dad here and in bad health, Clint still felt like the kid that never knew what to expect. That came from years of conditioning. His dad had been the kind of drunk that could be happy and boisterous one minute, and angry enough to hurt someone the next.

As much as he wanted to convince himself that the past didn’t matter, it did. And forgiving mattered, too. Forgiving was something a person decided to do.

He’d made his decision a long time ago. He’d made his decision on his knees at the front of the little country church he’d gone to as a kid. He’d found faith, grabbing hold of promises that made sense when nothing else had.

But being back here brought back a ton of feelings, memories of being the kid in school who never had a new pair of jeans or a pair of shoes without holes. He’d always been the kid whose parents didn’t show up for programs or games.

He reminded himself that he wasn’t that kid. Not now. He had moved on. He had finished college. He had worked his way up in the sport of bull riding. He hadn’t made a lot of money, but at least he had something to show for his life.

His attention returned to the halls of the nursing home, sweet old people sitting in chairs next to the doors to their rooms, hoping that someone would stop and say hello. A few of them spoke, remembering him from a long time ago, or from his visit last week.

His own father sometimes remembered him, and sometimes didn’t.

“Well, there you are.” Today was a day his dad remembered.

“Dad, how are you?” Clint grabbed the handles of the wheel-chair and pushed his dad into the room.

“I didn’t say I wanted to come in here.”

“I don’t want to stand in the hall.” Clint sat on the bed with the quilted bedspread and raggedy stuffed elephant that one of Jenna’s boys had left for their granddad, even though their granddad rarely acknowledged their presence.

“So, did you find a job?” his dad quizzed as his trembling hand reached for a glass of water.

Clint picked up the glass and filled it from the pitcher on the table. He eased it into his dad’s hand. It was full and a little sloshed out. Clint wiped it up with a napkin and sat back down on the bed.

“I have a job. I’m a bull rider. And I’m going to work for Janie.”

“That old woman? Why would you work for her?”

Clint glanced out the small window that let in dim afternoon light shadowed by the dark clouds of another storm. He had to shrug off his dad’s comments, the same comments he’d always made about Janie.

There were questions Clint would like to ask now. Did his dad really dislike Janie, or was he just embarrassed that her money had put food on their table and clothes on their backs? He breathed deep and let go of the anger.

Too many years had gone by to remind his father of that time, and to hurt him with the truth that would have sounded like accusations. He stood and walked to the window. Behind him his dad coughed.

“I could use a drink.”

Clint shrugged but didn’t turn away from the window, and the view of someone’s hayfield. A tractor sat abandoned in the middle of the field, half the hay cut and the other half still standing. Something must have broken on the tractor. Not that it mattered. But for a moment he needed to think about something other than the past, and his dad still needing a drink, even with his liver failing.

“Where’s your sister? Is she home from school yet?”

His dad had slipped into the past, too.

Clint turned, shaking his head as he sat down on the bed. It was easy to forgive a man who was broken. The surprising thing was that he even felt compassion.

“Dad, Jenna is in Missouri. She’s going to Iraq.”

“Why would she do that?”

“She’s in the Army.” He took the water glass from his dad and set it on the table. “Dad, do you remember? Jenna is twenty-seven. She has two little boys.”

“She shouldn’t have had them without a father. She should have married that boy.”

“He didn’t ask.” Clint had to fight back a remaining shard of anger over that situation. The ramblings of an old man he could overlook. The past could be forgiven. His sister being hurt, that was something he still had to work on.

“What’s your sister going to do with those boys?”

“I’m going to take care of them.”

His dad laughed. “You? How are you going to take care of two little boys? Do you even have a job, other than working for Janie?”

“I’m helping her niece with the bucking bulls she raises.”

His dad’s eyes widened at that and then narrowed as he smiled. “Are you in love with her? I imagine she’s way out of your league.”

How could one conversation reduce him from grown man to a sixteen-year-old kid teaching the judge’s daughter to ride the horse she’d gotten for her birthday? Way out of your league must have been the statement that took him back.

“No, Dad, I’m not in love with Willow Michaels. She needs help, and I need a job.”

“I need to take a nap, and you need to find out why Jenna didn’t come home on the bus. She hasn’t even fed the chickens.”

“Okay, Dad, I’ll go check on her.” Clint stood, towering over his dad’s frail body. Before he left, he leaned and hugged the old man who had hurt them all so much.

Forgiving had been taken care of. Forgetting was getting easier.

Now he had to go home, to the foreman’s house and get it ready for the boys. He tried not to think about that house not being his, or about the home he’d grown up in not being a fit place for two boys.

As he climbed into his truck, he tried, but couldn’t quite block the thoughts returning, thoughts of Jenna leaving the boys. He tried not to think about her being gone for a year, and what could happen in that time. And he tried not to think about living a dirt trail away from Willow Michaels—who was way out of his league.

Six in the morning, Willow was barely awake, and as she glanced out the kitchen window she saw two little boys run across the lawn, heading toward the barn. Two days ago Clint had asked her if she would be okay with the twins living on the farm, and now they were here. She hadn’t thought about them being here so soon.

The bigger problem now was that the boys were running for the pen that held her big old bull, Dolly. She set her glass of water down on the counter and hurried for the front door. Janie, sitting in the living room, looked up from her Bible, brows raised over the top of her reading glasses.

“Is there a fire?”

“No, but there are two little boys heading for Dolly’s pen.”

Dolly was her first bull. At bull-riding events they called him Skewer, because it was easier on a cowboy’s ego to get thrown from a “Skewer” than a “Dolly.” Gentle or not, she didn’t want the two little boys in that pen.

As she ran across the lawn, she glanced toward the foreman’s house. A small sedan was parked out front, the same one she’d seen easing down the driveway yesterday. No one was outside. The boys, silvery-blond hair glinting in the sun, weren’t slowing down. They obviously had a plan they wanted to carry out before the adults realized they’d escaped.

Willow hurried after them, rocks biting into her bare feet. If she didn’t catch them in time…She shook off that thought, that image. She would get to them in time.

“Don’t go in there,” she shouted, cupping her mouth with her hands, hoping the words would carry and not get swept away on the early morning breeze.

The boys stopped, turning sun-browned faces in her direction, sweet faces with matching Kool-Aid mustaches. They were armed with paper airplanes and toy soldiers.

Willow’s heart ka-thumped against her ribs. Fear and remnants of loss got tangled inside her. She had to stop, take a deep breath, and move forward. The way she’d been moving forward for the last five years, one step at a time. Rebuilding her life.

The boys were watching her, waiting.

She reached them and they stared up at her. Their eyes were wide and gray, familiar because up close they looked a lot like Clint Cameron.

Their gazes shot past her. She turned as Clint and a young woman walked out of the foreman’s house. The two, brother and sister, paused on the front porch and then headed in her direction.

“Uh-oh,” one of the boys mumbled and his thumb went to his mouth.

“Don’t suck your thumb,” the other shoved him with his elbow, pushing him hard enough to knock the slighter-built of the two off-balance.

“You two do know that it isn’t safe to go in the barn or around the bulls, right?” Willow knelt in front of them, her heart catching.

They nodded. The smaller boy tried to hide the thumb in his mouth by covering it with his other hand. Their twin gazes slid from her face to something behind her. Clint?

She stood and turned, ready to greet him and his sister. The little boys scurried to the side of their mother, their hands reaching for hers.

“Clint.” Willow didn’t know what else to say. She didn’t know that she wanted to say more.

“Willow, these two rowdy guys are my nephews. This is my sister, Jenna.”

Jenna, brown hair streaked with blond highlights and petite frame clothed in shorts and a T-shirt, held out her hand. “Nice to meet you. And I’m really thankful to you for giving Clint a place to keep the boys.”

“You’re welcome, Jenna. We’re glad we can do it.”

Willow squatted to put herself at eye level with the two little boys, matching bookends with identical looks of sadness and fear. Their mother was leaving. Willow fought the urge to pull them close, to promise that everything would be okay.

She thought about her own fears, her own longings. It all paled in comparison to what this family was going through.

“My name is Willow. What are your names?”

“Timmy,” the bigger of the two pushed at his brother again, “and this is Davie.”

“David,” the boy mumbled, looking down at the ground.

Insecure? She understood insecure, and how it felt to not know where she was supposed to be, or what she should do.

Janie had joined them, and she was hugging Clint’s sister, holding her tight for a long minute while the boys held tight to their mother. When Janie turned back around, tears shimmered on the surface of her eyes.

“Jenna doesn’t have a thing to worry about, does she, Willow? We’ll be here to help Clint with the boys until she can make it home.”

Willow smiled at the boys again. Just little boys, and they were going to have to say goodbye to their mother. She’d been ten when her parents sent her away, forcing her to leave their home in Europe and attend a special school in the States.

She knew how hard it was to let go of what was familiar. She also knew that Jenna’s heart had to be breaking, because nothing hurt a mother worse than letting go of a child.

“Of course we’ll help.” Willow ignored Clint, because she couldn’t look into his eyes. She couldn’t acknowledge, not even to herself, how hard this was going to be.

Janie smiled, her brown eyes soft. Janie knew.

Time to escape. Willow ruffled the blond hair of the smaller boy, and he looked up at her, gray eyes seeking something, probably answers. She didn’t have any. She could pray, but a child didn’t want to hear that, because he wouldn’t understand what God could do. At his age, the little guy just wanted his mom to stay with him.

“I need to get my shoes and get some work done.” Willow smiled at Jenna, who seemed unsure and probably needed reassurance. “Don’t worry about the boys, or Clint. We have plenty of room here.”

“Thank you.” And then Jenna hugged her.

“I’m sure we’ll see you before you go.” Willow pulled away, from Jenna and the situation. “Boys, remember, stay out of the pens.”

Clint started to follow her, but she stopped him. “I can handle this. You spend time with your sister.”

“You’re sure?”

Positive. What she needed was time alone, to think about how her life had just changed. What she didn’t need was Clint Cameron invading space she had carved out for herself. And what she couldn’t do was look into his gray eyes, eyes like those of his nephews, but seeing so much more.

A few hours later Jenna drove down the road, and Clint could only pray that God would keep her safe. Janie had the boys, feeding them cookies and drying their tears. He was going in search of Willow to see if she needed help with anything, and knowing she would probably say that she didn’t. She had a way of handling things.

Country music blared from the office at the end of the barn. Clint peeked around the corner of the office door. She wasn’t there. An empty soda can sat on her desk, along with the wrapper from a chocolate bar, more than one. He smiled, thinking of her sitting there with music blaring, eating chocolate. What did that do for women?

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.”