The Cowboy’s Daughter

by Jamie K. Schmidt

  When they went back to the barn, Alissa was asleep in the hay with the kittens coiled up into balls all over her. This time, Kelly got the shots she needed.

  Frank insisted on carrying Alissa up to their room. Kelly hovered, afraid that he would drop her because toward the last few stairs he was straining and breathing hard. But he managed to put her on the air mattress in Kelly’s old room without waking Alissa. She was sleeping soundly, snuggled up with her teddy bear.

  After her parents went downstairs, Kelly considered joining Alissa in a nap. But she tossed and turned. She couldn’t get comfortable and her mind wouldn’t shut off. So she unpacked instead, setting up her computer equipment before she put their clothes away.

  Her room hadn’t changed since the day she left it six years ago. Kelly had taken everything she could carry, so the room was sparse. But her country fair ribbons for photography and her Rodeo Queen hat and sash were still lurking about.

  The room was stifling, even with the fan in the window. Or maybe it was because Kelly couldn’t breathe right since she’d come back to Texas. She hadn’t been expecting the anxiety to eat away at her. She should just go to bed, but was too restless to turn in. She didn’t want to hang out with her parents who were watching the news and bickering over politics. Her sisters weren’t texting her back, and Kelly thought her head would explode if she didn’t distract herself.

  She watched Alissa sleep, checking her breathing like she did every night. Kelly always had a moment of anxiety until she saw Alissa’s chest rise or fall or even better yet, hear her give out a sweet baby snore. Tucking Alissa in, she gave her darling little girl a kiss on her cheek.

  “I won’t let him hurt you,” she whispered. Whatever happened with the ranch and her portrait studio, Kelly would shield her daughter from her father’s wrath, if it ever decided to rear its ugly head again.

  Frank Sullivan hadn’t always been a short-tempered pain in the patootie. At least, not to her. For the first sixteen years of her life, he had been her hero. He had taught her to ride and clapped the loudest when she was nominated Rodeo Queen when she was eighteen. Whenever he introduced her to people, she was his “beautiful daughter, Kelly.” Janice had been his “smart daughter,” which should have pissed her off but didn’t. As a teenager, it had seemed a better deal to be pretty rather than a brainiac. Emily was “the baby.” Or as Frank introduced her, “My baby girl, Emily.”

  After Kelly got pregnant, she became just “his eldest daughter.” Growing up, she’d had wrapped him around her little finger. All her sisters did. He’d been a softie where they were concerned. That was probably why she’d never thought he’d go through with his ultimatum. And why it still affected her, even after they had made amends.

  She needed to get out of this house. She grabbed her keys and went downstairs.

  “I’m going out,” she called to her parents from the doorway.

  “Where are you heading?” her mother said.

  “Why? Do you need me to pick up something?”

  “No, I was just wondering if we should stay up and wait for you.”

  “No.” Kelly gave them a wave over her shoulder and hurried out the door. She wasn’t sure why that made her feel like a rebellious teenager or why she just couldn’t tell her parents she was going to the Last Stand Saloon for a drink.

  She didn’t want to deal with her father’s disapproval any more today or get into an argument with her parents. She had feet of clay. She wasn’t perfect. And she wanted a tequila shot like she wanted her next breath.

  The saloon was just how she remembered it, dark and noisy with a local crowd that she was surprised she fit back in with. Kelly found herself chatting with some old friends—Zoraya and Tabitha, from high school—and sharing a pitcher of Alabama slammers. Mixed with the tequila shooters, it was going to be a rough morning tomorrow, but Kelly didn’t have enough left in her to care.

  “Oh wow, would you look who just walked in,” Zoraya said, fanning herself.

  Tabitha looked up. “And he’s coming this way.”

  Kelly threw back a shot of tequila. And when she looked up, Trent Campbell was making his way toward them. Her entire body clenched, then flushed, and she started to shake. She almost knocked the shot glass off the table when she put it down.

  At first glance, he hadn’t changed at all. If she hadn’t known he’d been crushed by an angry bull, she wouldn’t have looked twice. But now that she did, she could see the faint limp. He was a tall drink of water with longish brown hair that fell in sexy waves around his face. He still had rangy muscles and a killer smile.

  Life was not fair that he was as sizzling hot six years later in a bar as he’d been winning the purse for longest bull ride at the Last Stand Rodeo. His electric-blue eyes burned with an intensity that sent a shiver through her. Little laugh lines warred with other, harsher lines around his sensual mouth. Yeah, he had aged a bit, but he was like a fine wine. A very fine wine. She didn’t know what would be worse, if he recognized her—or if he didn’t.

  “Have we met?” he asked in that deep honeyed voice that still had the power to make her toes curl in her boots.

  Kelly wished she had brushed her hair, chewed a mint, something to stop a crushing wave of self-consciousness that made her mute. Did she look so different? Had having a child changed her so much? Had she been just one woman in a line of forgettable one-night stands? He’d changed her life, and she might not have even registered as important in his. Anger and resentment battled for control, along with the ridiculous urge to burst into tears. She was on the roller coaster again, this time shooting down so fast, she left her stomach at the peak.

  Trent held out his hand and she shook it on instinct, but the rasp of his calloused palm covering hers made her catch her breath and look up at him. Familiar blue eyes smiled into hers.

  “Kelly? Is that you?” he said.

  Relief washed over her, leaving her feeling weak and dazed. He had remembered her.

  “How do you two know each other?” Zoraya asked, putting out her own hand.

  Panic flared through her at the thought that her friends might gush about her having a crush on him all through high school, but then Tabitha saved her by answering, “We were at every one of your rodeos, Trent. You probably remember us from the stands.”

  Yeah, let’s go with that. Gratitude made her head spin more. She wasn’t sure what she was feeling, but she thought another shot of tequila would help.

  “That must be it,” he said. “Can I have this dance?”

  No one was dancing—just milling around, bopping to the jukebox. But her body engaged before her brain could and she shot to her feet. He led her out into the middle of the room that served as a dance floor on occasion. Then before she could process that she was going to be alone with the father of her child, he pulled her in close.

  He smiled at her and she was transported back to her twenty-second birthday, when that same roguish grin had her good intentions dropping almost as fast as her panties.

  She shook herself out of her daze. Trent Campbell was sexy as hell, but she knew from personal experience that he was a love ’em and leave ’em type.

  “Remember me?” Trent whispered into her ear, as they swayed to the jukebox.

  Kelly forced down a hysterical giggle. Only every time I look into your daughter’s eyes. “Yeah, I seem to recall seeing you around here a few times.” He smelled like expensive cologne and she wanted to burrow her face in his chest and lick every inch of him. She hoped that was the liquor talking, but she had a notion that she’d be feeling the same way even without the tequila.

  “My name is Trent Campbell.” He held her tight against him. It was getting hard to think straight. It felt so good to be in his arms, like she could let go of every problem and he’d take care of them for her.

  “I know. I was just teasing,” she said, catching her breath when he nuzzled her cheek. “I have very fond memories of being with you.”

  He rubbed agai
nst her and she felt how hard he was.

  “Very fond,” she whispered. Should she tell him? Would he ask? Kelly swallowed hard. If he asked, she would tell him about his daughter. If he didn’t, he didn’t deserve to know.

  “I’ve been looking for you. Where have you been?” Trent brushed a kiss against her temple.

  “You had my number,” she said shakily.

  “My phone was stolen.”

  Kelly tensed. “When?”

  “A couple of months after I saw you.”

  Well, that explained why he hadn’t picked up his phone when she’d called after she’d peed on the stick and found out she was pregnant. “But you got my messages, right?”

  “Not a one.”

  She stumbled and gripped him in a panic.

  “You all right, darlin’?”

  No. She wasn’t all right. Was he putting her on? “Your manager, what’s his name?”

  “Billy? Billy King?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “I called him looking for you.”

  He drew back in surprise and smiled at her. “You did?”

  Nodding, she stared into his eyes. They were happy, not a shade of realization in them that she’d had his daughter.

  “I’m sorry, but he never told me. To be fair, I was in a bad place. They thought I’d be in a wheelchair for the rest of my life.”

  “He didn’t tell you anything?”

  Trent shook his head. “I wasn’t talking to a lot of people back then. Honestly, I was a bastard to everyone who tried to help me. Self-pity is a terrible thing. I eventually snapped out of it.”

  “Oh.” Her legs were weak and she leaned more against him for support. Reality crashed down on her, trying to rewrite history. Had she capitulated and told her father that Alissa was Trent’s, he would have ripped the country apart to find Trent and demand he man up and take care of his daughter, rodeo schedule or no. Billy King wouldn’t have been able to stonewall Frank Sullivan. Hell, nothing would have stopped her father until he’d found Trent and confronted him with his responsibilities. Kelly wouldn’t have been exiled. Trent would have known he had a daughter. And Alissa would know who her father was. It was even possible that Trent might not have ridden the bull that crippled him.

  Her pride had caused this. She’d assumed Trent had ghosted her. Why hadn’t she tried harder? Why hadn’t she demanded he man up and support their daughter? Was it because her father hadn’t supported her and she wanted to prove something?

  “I never forgot about you,” he said, trailing his fingertips over her cheek.

  That made it worse.

  “I never forgot about you either.” What the hell was she going to do?

  “Would you like to go somewhere a little more private and talk?”

  Did she?

  Not tonight. She had to tell him, and soon. It had to be soon. But not when she was half-drunk, guilt-ridden, jet-lagged, and so horny she could spit. “I just flew in from New York and it’s starting to catch up to me. I should just go home.” To New York.

  He frowned. “Who’s your designated driver?”

  Closing her eyes, she thumped her forehead on his chest. “I kind of don’t have one.”

  “I’ll take you home. Where are you staying?”

  Oh hell no. What if Alissa was up? What if her father was? “No, that’s okay. I’ll just hang out here.”

  “I don’t mind. It’ll give us some quiet time to talk.”

  “I’ll probably fall asleep on you,” she joked.

  “Mmm,” he purred in her ear. “I’d like that.”

  He revved her up more with his voice than most men had with their kisses. She needed to get out of here and away from him before she did something stupid, like try for a little brother for Alissa or beg his forgiveness while she dissolved into a teary wreck.

  “I’ll get my purse.” Reluctantly, she pulled away from him and headed back to the table where her high school friends were. “Um, I’ve got to go.”

  “Yeah, girl. We see that.” Zoraya smiled at her, while Tabitha gave her two thumbs-up.

  “We’ll catch up later,” Tabitha said. “Because we’ll want to know all the details.”

  Kelly had a feeling all the details were going to come out, and it was going to shock a lot of people…including the man who was grinning seductively at her.

  With a nod to Slater Highwater, who was tending bar, Trent put his arm around her and guided her out of the saloon.

  The night air slapped her face and she shivered, glad for the warmth of his body next to her. She was surprised when he led her to a sedan instead of a pickup truck. But when he opened her door, she noticed he was leaning heavily on it. “Are you all right?”

  “You bet.” He winked at her and walked around to the driver side, limping slightly.

  “How’s your leg?” she asked when he strapped himself in.

  Shrugging, he said, “I won’t be able to ride a bull for eight seconds again. But aside from that, things are generally back to normal.”

  She caught the bitter twist of his lips before his expression changed. “I saw YouTube footage of the accident. You must have been so scared.”

  “I was in too much pain to be scared, but when I watched the video, I was terrified. I’d have been better off if a truck ran over me. You know, I don’t even remember losing consciousness.”

  She put her hand on his arm. “I’m glad you’re all right.”

  Trent covered her hand with his. “It took a while, but I got there. I had a lot of time to think these past few years. I wish things had been different between us.”

  Kelly didn’t want to hear that he regretted their one-night stand. “Trent…”

  He talked over her. “I ran around with a lot of women. I not only sowed my wild oats, I sowed everyone else’s oats on the circuit as well.”

  “I really don’t want to hear this,” she said dryly.

  “What I mean to say is, I regret it. I should have called you more, found out more about you. Tried to get together, more. I was young and stupid. I thought we had all the time in the world.”

  Oh no. He couldn’t do this to her. She’d start to cry and she wasn’t sure that she’d be able to stop. “It’s all right. It wasn’t the right time for us.”

  “How about now?”

  Kelly caught her breath. “I’ve got a lot of things going on right now.”

  “Yeah,” he sighed. “Me too.” Trent put the car into gear and pulled out onto Main Street.

  “You staying at the Bluebonnet Inn too?”

  “No, with my parents. Do you know where the Three Sisters Ranch is?”

  He did a quick double take. “Sullivan’s place? Your dad is Frank Sullivan?”

  “Oh God, what did he do now?” Kelly winced. “I’m so sorry if he’s bothered you. He’s a really big fan.”

  “He is?” Trent straightened up in his seat. “So, you’re Kelly Sullivan. His oldest?”

  The beautiful one, her mind filled in sardonically. “Yeah, I suppose I should have given you my last name.”

  “It would have made finding you easier, too.”

  Kelly closed her eyes as her stomach lurched.

  “But I should have asked. At the very least, I should have found out where you were from. If I’d known you lived in Last Stand, I could have tracked you down sooner. I grew up here.”

  “I know,” she said. Somewhere in her parents’ house, there was a scrapbook of him.

  Her father loved the rodeo. He was a bulldogger in his youth and had always wanted to ride them instead of wrestle them. But he never could stay on. Frank liked to tell the story about how he’d been thrown off in the chute. It hadn’t been his thing as much as he’d wanted it to be. So he followed the riders like some men followed baseball players or football teams.

  And the best rider to come out of Last Stand was Trent Campbell. Kelly had cut out every article in the paper about him. Saved all the rodeo programs he was in. One of these days she was going to show
it to Alissa. The way things were going, that was going to happen sooner rather than later. “I was a big fan, too.”

  Trent smiled sheepishly. “I don’t remember you from school.”

  “I was a few years behind you.” She realized she still had her hand on his arm and she reluctantly took it away. He felt real and solid and she wanted him to hold her and tell her everything was going to be all right. Even though she knew she was on borrowed time.

  Would Frank kick her out again? Would he kick Trent out? Her father needed their rent money too much to do it, but his pride might not let him be reasonable.

  “I wanted nothing more than to leave this town in my back mirror in those days. It’s the height of irony that here is where I’ll end up.”

  Her throat closed and it was difficult to breathe again. “You’re staying? In Last Stand?”

  “Yeah, your daddy leased me some land and I’m starting a bull-riding school.”

  “He what?” Kelly flinched away from him. “He never mentioned that.” Neither had her mother. Was that her father’s surprise? She closed her eyes. Of course, it was. It was just like her father to keep this a secret. But if he knew he had Trent as a tenant, what was this nonsense about selling the ranch? “I thought my father was putting the ranch on the market.”

  “Yeah. When my manager first talked with him, he said your dad had wanted me to buy the ranch outright, but I don’t have enough money for five thousand acres, or enough collateral for a bank loan. Maybe, if I was still on the circuit?” Trent shrugged. “Anyway, leasing was the next best thing. I’ve got a three-year contract, with an option to buy the plot of land at the end of it. I figure if it doesn’t work out, I can move on and start up again in another city.” He looked over at her. “Is something wrong?”

  In three years, Alissa would be eight years old. Would she get to know her father, just to have him leave? Maybe she should keep her secret. After all, they all got on just fine without Trent knowing he had a daughter. No. No. That wasn’t right. She sighed.

  “It’s all too much,” she whispered.

  “What is?” he said, kindly.

  Shit. She had to think of a cover and fast. “The ranch,” she blurted out. “First, he was going to sell. He summoned us all home to say goodbye to the ranch. So, my sisters and I came up with a plan to basically do what he just did with you, and parcel up the land until the ranch was profitable again.”