Cowboy For A Season (The New West)

by Janalyn Knight

  He frowned. "I worry about Chloe when she is big and school begins. How will that work? Debra must quit singing and live in one place. Will she blame Chloe? Debra is not nice to be with when she is mad."

  Becky sucked on her bottom lip, as if considering what she wanted to say.

  He said, "I know that face. Tell me."

  She sighed. "Didn't Dr. Freeman suggest that you stop riding? This is your second pelvic fracture, and this time you needed surgery. And you hated using that walker. Then there's your arm. It's tough to come back from a break to your riding arm, and this was a really bad break."

  Taking his hand, she said, "You've been saving up for a ranch of your own for years. Why don't you do that? Buy your own place. Then you can keep Chloe whenever you want. Or, you could go for full custody. It would be a wonderful solution to this mess that Debra makes of Chloe's life."

  His stomach had started churning the second Becky mentioned Dr. Tandy Freeman, the head of Sports Medicine for the PBR. No way would Alex consider dropping out of the PBR circuit as the doctor had recommended. Alex still had years of bull riding left in him. Why, look at J. B. Mauney. That guy was as beat up as they come, and he was still riding. No, Alex wouldn't quit. Not yet. There must be some other way to make Chloe's life better.

  He pressed his lips together as he considered. "You're right, Becky. Something must change. Chloe needs to be safe."

  THE NEXT MORNING, AFTER a quick breakfast, he fixed himself some bean and cheese tacos for lunch and headed off to Hannah's ranch. Meu Deus, a mulher é bonita. Yesterday, the sun had streaked her shining copper hair with gold. And those big blue eyes of hers were so fierce when she asked him how much money he wanted. He almost said she shouldn't pay him. She was in a bad way. But the pride in her eyes said no. So, he let her name a price. She had something to prove, now that her husband was gone—to herself, if to no one else.

  He had something to prove to himself as well. He must be ready to ride by the time the new season started. And he would be. Bull riding was his life, and he wouldn't give it up.

  Hannah and her father stepped through the wide barn doors as he pulled up and parked. He waved and got out, walking over to them. "Hi, boss."

  Her lips in a firm line, she reached out her hand. "Hey, Alex. My dad is ready to take you around, show you the pastures and the tractor. A guy is coming out here today to fix it. Nobody's driving that thing until it has a new starter. My husband kept saying he'd repair it himself—that we couldn't afford for a mechanic to make a house call." She swallowed and looked out over the pasture for a moment. "Anyway, when it's ready, you'll know which pastures we want to plant, and you can start plowing them. When you're finished, I've got the seed in my other barn."

  "Okay." Poor woman. Her husband had died in a terrible way. Alex would treat her gently but without letting her know. She couldn't be more than five feet tall, but something in her eyes told him she was a tough little lady. He followed her father toward the ranch truck and grinned. Alex wouldn't want to get on her bad side.

  His thoughts returned to Hannah, time and again, as he learned the ranch with her father. The tiny woman had strength in her, yet her vulnerability was evident in the look of sadness on her face when she wasn't on her guard. He got a strange feeling about her pain and wondered about its true origin. She didn't seem like a woman who had suddenly lost her husband, especially in such a horrible way. Her grief was more fine-tuned, like she'd lived with it for a very long time.

  Alex and Ross were driving through one of the desert pastures now. The arid view of the West Texas ranch lacked large trees. It was a wild and lonely land that appealed to his soul. Hannah's father told him that where he would be plowing, they rotated grain crops to preserve the soil's strength and even left the pastures fallow every few years. Careful husbandry was important with the sandy desert soil. Ross was a kind man and very thorough in his explanations. By the time they arrived back at the barn, Alex felt prepared to begin his new job.

  Ross led him over to the John Deere which had an obviously-new starter on it. The fateful disc plow was hooked up behind it. Ross said, "It's fixed and ready to go. Why don't you climb aboard, and tell me if you have any questions."

  Alex climbed the first two steps and swung the glass door open. The interior was tidy, but dusty. An old pair of leather work gloves sat on the seat. He stepped up the last step and put the gloves on the dash, settling into the cushioned chair. He'd never driven a 4550, but the levers and pedals were obvious in their use. He glanced down at Ross and smiled. "No problem. I can drive it good."

  Ross nodded. "I figured. Looks like we're all set, then. I'm glad you're here, Alex. Hannah needs someone on the place, but she's not the kind of person who finds it easy asking for help."

  "Don't worry, Mr. Ross. I'll work hard for Hannah."

  "I know you will. And, it's just Ross, okay?"

  Alex grinned. "Okay, Ross."

  They turned as Hannah's pickup appeared in a cloud of dust coming down the drive. She pulled up to the barn and stopped. As they walked over, she got out. "Hey, Dad, Alex. How did it go?"

  Ross said, "The tractor's fixed, and he knows where to start in the morning."

  Alex let his eyes roam over the petite but curvaceous, figure of the woman in front of him. In her worn t-shirt and Wranglers, she wasn't trying to be sexy, but she was. Her face was covered in just the right number of freckles to give her skin a golden glow, and those full lips were a deep pink without a touch of lip color. She had a natural beauty that took his breath away.

  Hannah reached out her hand, with her usual all-business expression. "That's great, Alex. I'll see you in the morning, then."

  He clasped her small hand, and the calluses on her palm told him just how hard this woman worked. Now that he was here, her life would be easier. "Bye, Hannah."

  He strode toward his truck, looking forward to seeing beautiful Hannah in the morning, but not happy at the prospect of the bumping and bouncing his pelvis would experience in the cab of the tractor. Walking was still painful. If he was going to get on the back of a bull soon, his healing would have to be much further along and that worried him. On the bright side, if he could stand the pain the tractor dished out over the next few weeks, maybe getting on the back of a two-thousand-pound bull wouldn't be quite as bad as he expected it to be.

  A LITTLE AFTER ELEVEN o'clock that night, his phone rang. Debra's number came up. She must have paid for more minutes. Interesting. Debra usually got a new phone. He answered. "Hey, I called but your phone was off." Loud country music played in the background.

  She yelled, "I'm sorry. I'm paid up now. Are you still at Todd's place?"

  He pressed the phone to his ear so he could hear better as he hurried into the bathroom and closed the door so he wouldn’t wake Chloe. "Yeah, but I got a job at a ranch. The Rocking H. Until I ride bulls again. Where are you now?"

  She yelled louder. "I'm in Crowley, just outside of Ft. Worth." She hesitated, then asked, "So, this Rocking H ranch? Is that in Barbwire, too?"

  "Yes."

  "I have some great news. I'm going to Nashville. I got a gig."

  Her voice didn't sound right. He asked, "Are you happy?"

  "Of course! It's the break I've been waiting for. Aren't you happy for me, too?"

  "Yes. Sure." There was something else going on. "How is Chloe?"

  "She's great. She's such a sweet little thing. You hardly know she's there."

  Huh? That's not how he remembered his daughter. She got into everything the last time he saw her. But she was precious, all the same. "She's a sweetheart."

  "Oh, she is. I have to go. My next set is starting. Nice talking to you, Alex."

  He laid the phone on the night stand and turned over. That was the strangest conversation. She didn't even ask him for money. What the hell was going on?

  ALEX FOUND HIMSELF looking forward to seeing Hannah as he drove to the Rocking H the next morning. All he knew about the woman was that she lost her
husband last week in a horrible accident with a tractor. Did she have children? If she did, he hadn't seen any sign of them.

  She appeared sad, but more than that, she seemed angry somehow. He couldn't figure that one out. There was much more to this woman than what he currently knew, and he wanted to find out everything about her. The aura of heartbreak around her drew him in, and not just because of her beauty. Her self-contained strength and fierce sense of independence came through loud and clear. He wished the two of them could work side-by-side, but the best way to help Hannah right now was to get her wheat planted.

  Like most ranchers around Barbwire, Hannah grew her crops under dryland conditions, without irrigation, depending on the infrequent rainfall to make them grow. It was a gamble, but water was hard to come by in the desert region, and Hannah, like many people, had no choice. For this reason, planting her wheat in September, just a few short weeks away, was critical. Her crops would take advantage of the fall rains and cooler temperatures while their roots grew deep.

  Hannah stepped out of the barn holding a bucket as he pulled in and parked. He walked over to her, his chest tightening with desire. Clearing his throat, he smiled at her, tamping down on his reaction. "Hey, boss. Need help?"

  "Hey, Alex. Sure, maybe you can help me feed in the mornings before you set out for the fields." She gestured toward the barn. "They've been fed, but you could throw some cubes in the feeder on the other side of the barn."

  "Okay." Hannah didn't smile much, and he had a feeling that had been the case even before she lost her husband.

  He finished and headed over to join her at the barn. "Do you have a problem with javelinas digging in your wheat fields?"

  "Yep, I sure do. Damn things. They're not like feral hogs. There's a season on javelinas. I have to grit my teeth and let them destroy my wheat. It's so unfair. I should be able to protect my crops."

  "That's bad."

  She huffed. "Tell me about it." As she headed for her truck, she called over her shoulder. "If I don't see you this afternoon, it'll be in the morning."

  He raised his hand. "Sure." As he watched her walk away, his body responded with tingles of desire again. How could it not? Her tight, rounded butt and swinging hips were everything a man could want. Her t-shirt did nothing to hide her full, taut breasts, either. Meu deus, estou perdido. My God, he was lost. How was he supposed to keep his eyes off her?

  Chapter Three

  SEVERAL WEEKS LATER, Hannah glanced again down the long drive to the barn, expecting to see Alex's truck barreling down the road in a cloud of dust. She loved the new feeding routine. It'd been so long since anyone helped her with chores. It took no time at all to feed the stock now. A quiet man, Alex didn't talk unless he had something important to say, and even then, he didn't speak much. Yet, he communicated well. She liked him, and he appeared to care for her, too.

  He did an amazing job on plowing the pastures. In another couple of days, he could start planting. On the Rocking H, they grew all their own hay and used the wheat for grazing as well. So, she must grow successful crops and couldn't miss out on the soon-to-come fall rains.

  An engine rumbled in the distance as Alex sped up the drive. She grinned to herself. That man sure got here in a hurry every morning.

  After he parked, he walked over to her. "How are you, boss?"

  Used to his teasing address now, she said, "Your boss is fine. I'm driving to Carlsbad for some shopping today, so I won't be around. Call me if you need anything."

  They set about their feeding routine and finished quickly. Alex stopped her before she could leave. "Hannah, may I ask you something? Before you say yes, it’s personal."

  Her heart thumped her chest wall, and she found it hard to breathe. With her fragile control, she avoided personal conversations. To her surprise, she heard herself say, "Go ahead."

  He took a deep breath and exhaled. "I'm sorry, Hannah. Please, don't be angry. I think we are friends now, and I want to understand. I feel your pain. But maybe this is an old pain, not from your husband?"

  At his unexpected words, she took a step back. He'd looked into her soul.

  Then she got mad. How the hell did he know whether she grieved or not? Gritting her teeth, she said, "You don't know anything about me or my feelings. But, you're right about one thing. I'm sure you'll hear around town. Ty had an affair before he was killed. So, yeah, I quit loving him long before he died." Biting her lower lip to keep it from trembling, she spun around and stalked to her truck.

  Furious, she gunned the engine, speeding down the drive. Shit, why did Alex stick his nose in my business? He spoiled everything.

  Eventually, she turned on to Highway 285 and set her cruise control. Calmer now that she'd had time to think, her angry reaction didn't make sense. Gazing at the empty desert landscape stretching into the distance, she asked herself, Do I feel guilty because I'm not sad? Am I a bad person because I didn't love my husband when he died? Of course, wishing him dead had never entered her mind, but his death left her numb, nothing more. His mean, blaming words about her infertility and his callous flouting of his affair had shattered her love into a million pieces, leaving her nothing to mourn the man with.

  So why did she get so angry with Alex for pointing that out? No one else had guts enough to bring her lack of grief up to her. Maybe she should be grateful he'd made her face it. If nothing else, she owed the man an apology.

  SHE DIDN'T GET HOME until evening, and Alex left at five. After she put her purchases away and took a bath, she sat on the couch and dialed his number. When he picked up, she said, "Hey, employee."

  He laughed. "Hey, boss. How was Carlsbad?"

  "The usual. I'm exhausted. Listen ..." Unsure what to say, she paused.

  "Yes, boss?"

  "I'm sorry I jumped on you. I don't know why I got so angry. You’re right, I'm not like a regular widow. My husband really hurt me this past year. I'm overwhelmed and kind of lost. But not sad."

  "Hannah, I'm your friend. I hope you know that."

  Her best friend, Lucy, moved to Dallas a few years ago, and Hannah missed having her close by. "Thanks, Alex."

  "Maybe sometime you will tell me what makes you sad, huh?"

  Sighing, she said, "Bye, Alex. I'll see you in the morning."

  She suddenly felt better than she had all day. Whiskey, here I come. Throwing two ice cubes in a glass, she poured herself three fingers of Maker's Mark and took a lingering sip. That hits the spot. She grabbed some empty boxes out of the garage and headed to her closet, dumping everything of Ty's into them. Most of his clothes were in town, but she boxed up what was left and anything else she could find. She kept his guns, though. The two of them had made wills. His stuff went to her, anyway. She'd shoved his pictures in drawers ages ago, so she dug them out and dumped them in the boxes, too.

  When she finished, she stared at a sad testament to her marriage. Shocked that Ty had already moved out so many of his belongings, it made her angry, but, at last, it also made her cry.

  She texted his mother, whom she hadn't spoken to in months, even at the funeral. Neither of them knew what to say in the face of Ty's blatant affair.

  I collected some of Ty's things. I'll bring them by and leave them on the porch tomorrow. I hope you're doing okay. I'm so sorry for your loss.

  Then she dragged the boxes to the garage.

  As she sank down on the couch, a sense of freedom settled over her. The pain of the past year hurt less with Ty and his things gone. She accepted that it was okay to be happy that the man who had damaged her so terribly wouldn't hurt her anymore.

  She fixed one last glass of whiskey. A harder task lay ahead of her. Finally talking to her parents about her husband had revealed something about herself. It wasn't just Ty who blamed her for being infertile. She desperately wanted a child and hated her body for letting her down. Somehow, some way, she must deal with that. Or, it would destroy her.

  SEVERAL DAYS LATER, as Hannah stared into her cabinet hoping for dinner
inspiration, her phone rang, and she didn't recognize the number. "Hello?"

  "Hannah? This is Becky, Todd's wife?"

  Huh? Becky never called her. "Hi. How are you?"

  "Honey, I was just wondering if you would come to dinner Saturday evening? Todd's barbequing in the back yard, and I'm making all the fixings to go with it. It'll be great. Won't you please come?"

  It had been a long time since she'd gone anywhere. But, why not? She liked Becky. "I'd love to. What can I bring?"

  "Just yourself. I'm so glad you're coming, honey. Is six o'clock okay?"

  "It's just fine, Becky. I'll see you Saturday." When Hannah hung up, she found her pulse thrumming in anticipation. But, God, what would she wear? She never wore anything but t-shirts and jeans. Damn. If she'd known, she could have bought something new in Carlsbad.

  She went through her closet, hanger by hanger, and sighed. She only found t-shirts, and worn-out, at that. Unless she counted her funeral dress and winter shirts. She had some things packed away that harked back to the first carefree years of her marriage, before her body let her down. Before her husband betrayed her. No way would she ever wear that stuff again. She'd drag that box to the garage tomorrow, too.

  Flopping on the bed, she closed her eyes and wished she'd never agreed to go. Why didn't she think before she opened her mouth? Two seconds would have told her she probably didn't have anything to wear. Forget the t-shirts. Her jeans were all worn and faded, some even torn. No amount of starch would make them respectable.

  If Lucy still lived here, she could borrow clothes from her. But Hannah had all but lost contact with her friend in the past year. So deep in a fog of depression, Hannah didn't reach out to anyone, even her best friend. And she ignored most of Lucy's calls, unable to face talking. She'd sent a text to her friend after Ty's death and told Lucy she'd call her when she felt she could discuss it.