Along Came a Cowboy

by Christine Lynxwiler

  His brown eyes gaze at me intently, and for once he doesn’t smile. “Rachel, don’t write us off just because we had a rocky start.”

  I know he’s talking about our working relationship as committee member and rodeo producer. Surely. But the way he says “us” sends a shiver down my spine.

  “Okay, okay.” I force a smile. “I guess it’s too late to get new bids now. I’ll give it a shot.”

  He swipes his hand across his forehead. “What a relief.”

  I swat toward the brim of his hat. “Yeah, I know you were worried.”

  He ducks and feints away, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Worried might be an overstatement, but it’s nice to know my future is financially assured now that I’m going to get to produce the Shady Grove Centennial Rodeo.”

  “Oh yeah.” I return his grin as I remember my hotheaded comment at Coffee Central. “Sorry about the whole nepotism crack. I know the town appreciates you giving us a deal.”

  We’re joking. And it’s fun. The realization makes me stiffen. As if in direct response, Jack stiffens, too, and his smile fades.

  “I wanted to ask you. . .” He looks toward the house then back at me. I can’t believe my eyes. Jack Westwood is nervous. I brace myself for a really personal question.

  When he doesn’t speak, I snap, “Ask me what?”

  “If you’d like to go out with me this Saturday night.”

  “Out?”

  He motions with his hand but doesn’t really look in my eyes. “Out to eat. To a show. Bowling. Whatever people do on dates around here.”

  I stare at him. This cannot be happening. Jennifer’s here full of questions, I’m thrust back into regular contact with my parents, and now, the drop-dead-gorgeous cowboy I have been trying desperately to avoid asks me out. And here’s the worst thing. I’d like to say yes. And that’s all the more reason to say no. “I’m sorry. But I can’t.”

  “Oh.” He looks down at the ground. “You are in a relationship?”

  Because obviously that’s the only reason he’s ever been turned down.

  “More relationships than I can handle.”

  He winces.

  I relent. “But not a romantic one. I just don’t have time”—or trust—“to spare right now. Thanks for asking though.”

  “I understand. Probably just as well.”

  I don’t say anything because I’m afraid I’ll scream, “Wait! I changed my mind.”

  “Tell your folks I had to get home.” He turns and walks slowly toward his truck.

  “I will.” I stand and watch him pull out of the driveway. “It would have been fun,” I say to the air.

  “Maybe you should have said yes. I think it would have been fun.” Allie tosses me the Frisbee and reaches over to get a bottled water out of the cooler.

  I throw the neon green disc to Lark, who promptly pitches it over her shoulder toward the kids. Cocoa and Shadow both run for it, but Allie’s youngest daughter, Katie, grabs it as she and Dylan, Victoria’s son, take off to the open area next to the fountain, with the dogs at their side.

  Katie motions for her older sister to come play, but Miranda is engrossed in conversation with Jennifer. Even though there’s more than two years difference in their ages, they hit it off immediately, and they’re walking along the paths talking. “I’ve tried ‘fun.’ It didn’t work out.”

  “You were a kid. Besides, all cowboys aren’t created equal, Rach,” Lark adds. “He seems nice.”

  “He seems it. But we all know I’ve dated men who are really nice, and it never amounts to anything.”

  “Wonder why?” Allie asks, as she spreads out a tablecloth on the picnic table.

  I give her an appraising look. Is she being sarcastic? Or serious?

  “You tell me,” I say, not caring if I’m a little flippant.

  Allie concentrates on smoothing a wrinkle out of the red and white plastic.

  “Because you never date anyone you’re really attracted to,” Lark says. Allie kind of gasps, and Lark shoots her a defensive look. “You know it’s true.”

  “Well. . . ,” Allie starts, with a worried look at me.

  Okay, I know Lark’s nerves are on edge while she’s waiting for the adoption agency to call, but I have to protest. “That is not true.”

  Lark puts her hand on her hip and waves her Diet Coke bottle at me. “Name one man you’ve dated in the past fifteen years that you had the slightest desire to get to know better.”

  “There was—” I stop, running through the short list of names in my mind. All nice guys. But none of them rang my bell, as Lark’s granny used to say. Still, I’m not about to admit it. “How did we get started on this?” I ignore Lark’s smirk and turn to Allie. “Have you picked out our dresses yet?”

  Allie gives me a dreamy bride smile. “I was hoping we might do that together a week from Saturday.”

  The opening notes of Martina McBride’s “This One’s for the Girls” blast out from the other side of the table. Lark almost knocks Allie over as she sprints to grab her purse. She fumbles frantically with the Velcro clasp and yanks her phone out. “Hello?”

  I shoot Allie a worried look. “The waiting is getting to her, isn’t it?” I whisper.

  She nods.

  Lark’s shoulders fall. “Oh. Hi, Marsha.”

  “Craig’s sister,” Allie mouths.

  Lark walks up to the top of the hill to get a better cell signal, and Allie and I start putting the food out. “We should do a spa day when we go to buy dresses,” Allie says. “I think we’re all pretty stressed.”

  I realize how much I’ve been consumed with Jennifer since she’s been here. “Is Vic okay?” Victoria Worthington is one of the most “together” women I know. But sometimes I’m sure we take that for granted.

  “Actually, yeah, she seems to be doing great. But she’d never turn down a spa day.”

  Lark yells, and we look up. She’s running over toward Craig, motioning him to meet her. He hurries to her and she talks, waving her arms, talking with her hands in true Lark fashion.

  “Looks like his sister had big news,” Allie says.

  “Good news, I hope.”

  Just as we finish setting the food out, Lark comes barreling down the hill, clutching her cell, a big grin across her face. “Okay, guys, I need you to pray like you’ve never prayed before. There’s a chance we’re going to be able to adopt a baby.”

  Allie looks up from where she’s stirring the potato salad. “Really? Did the adoption agency beep in?”

  Lark shakes her head. “That was Craig’s sister in Batesville. A woman she works with has a friend in Shady Grove who is pregnant. She’s not married and wants to give the baby up for adoption.”

  Allie hurries to hug her. “How old is she?”

  “Thirty.”

  I hug her, too. “Why isn’t she keeping the baby?” I say, caution tempering my joy.

  Lark frowns. “She can’t afford to. But the good news is Marsha told her about us and she wants to meet us.”

  “That’s wonderful.” I try to keep the concern from my voice.

  “You sound like you’re not so sure.”

  I’m saved from having to respond when Victoria jogs over to us, her blue polo shirt and khaki shorts spattered lightly with water. “Adam wanted to have a water fight.” She nods over her shoulder to where the guys are barbecuing, and Allie’s brother, Adam, is wringing water out of his T-shirt. “He lost.”

  Allie grins. “He never gives up, does he?”

  “Never grows up is more like it,” Victoria grumbles as she sinks onto the blanket and snags a sports drink from the cooler. “So what did I miss?”

  Lark drops down beside her with her baby news, and Victoria completes the round of Pinky hugs with her own enthusiastic contribution.

  Allie sits across from her. “Rachel’s cowboy asked her out.”

  Victoria’s face lights up, and she salutes me with her sports drink. “When are you going?”

>   “I’m not.”

  She looks at me in disbelief. “You’re saying no to him?”

  “Already did.”

  “Wow. You’ve got willpower.”

  Allie laughs. “You make him sound fattening, Vic.”

  “He’s worse than fattening,” she says. “He should come with a surgeon general’s warning: May be addictive.”

  Something unfamiliar wrenches at my gut.

  I’m satisfied with how I look, and some people consider my red hair and green eyes “striking,” but Victoria is supermodel material. If she set her sights on Jack, I wouldn’t have a chance.

  As soon as I think it, I realize how ridiculous the thought is. With or without Victoria, I don’t have a chance. Because I’m not going out with him.

  End of subject.

  Monday evening, I hurry up the steps to Allie’s house to pick up Jennifer. We’re supposed to be at the Lazy W in thirty minutes for her to watch a bull riding practice, but my last patient recently lost her husband, and she needed to talk. Some things can’t be hurried. Then to top it all off, I had to get Norma to give my car a jumpstart. All I need is a new battery, probably, but trying to find the time to get one is another story.

  Allie opens the kitchen door as soon as I knock. “Hey, girl. Come in. The kids are back there somewhere.” She nods toward the bedrooms.

  I give her a quick hug. “Thanks again for inviting Jenn to ‘babysit’ while she’s here. You’re a lifesaver.” Besides being a major distraction to Jennifer’s quest to find her birth mother, her having this job makes it easier for me to concentrate at work. I don’t have to wonder if she’s bored at the office or okay at home alone.

  Allie waves her hand in a “no worries” motion and snags us both a bottle of water from her fridge. “My mom loves the girls, but I know she’s glad to have a break.” She hands me the water and gives my jeans a look. “You having casual day at the office now?”

  “No, I haven’t given in to Norma on that yet. I changed before I left work so I’d be ready to take Jenn out to this insane bull riding practice.” I hold up my wrist to show two black elastics around it. “Still need to get my hair out of my face though.” At the end of the day, I usually pull my curly mane back in a ponytail, but I guess the thought of going to Jack’s arena brings out the cowgirl in me. Today I’m in the mood for braids. I split my hair into two sections and quickly braid one.

  “So you’re heading out to see Jack?” Her casual tone doesn’t fool me.

  “Only because of Jenn.” I slip a ponytail holder off my wrist, fasten the first braid, and start the second.

  She shrugs. “Of course. I was just asking.”

  Yeah, just asking. Why is it that when a seemingly happy single friend finds true love, she can no longer believe that her own seemingly happy single friend really is happily single?

  I secure the second braid and toss it over my shoulder. “I’d better get Jennifer so we can get going.”

  Down the hall, I glance in the open doorway of Miranda’s room. Katie is perched on the bed, and Miranda is standing behind Jennifer. Their backs are toward me and they’re concentrating on a laptop computer open on the desk.

  “Hey.”

  Jennifer jumps and slams the laptop shut.

  An uneasy feeling worms its way through my chest. “Ready to go?”

  She shrugs. “Sure. Cute hair.”

  “Thanks.”

  She hugs the girls and Allie good-bye, and a few minutes later, we’re on our way to the ranch.

  As we turn down the lane, I can’t contain myself any longer. “It was a little obvious that you didn’t want me to see the Web page you were looking at back there.”

  Her face reddens, but she doesn’t speak.

  “You know I’m not one to play the heavy, Jenn, but the Internet can be a dangerous place.”

  She crosses her arms and gives a little humorless laugh. “Don’t worry. I wasn’t chatting with strangers or giving out my personal information.”

  “Then what?” I glance over at her resolute expression.

  “Every time I ask you to help me find my birth mother, you put me off. I thought maybe I could find some info online.”

  My heart aches for her, and for a split second, I wonder if I’m doing the right thing. “And did you?”

  She looks down at her lap and shakes her head.

  I knew the answer, but relief still seeps into my tense muscles.

  “Do you know who she is?”

  I keep my eyes on the road. “I know your mom explained to you that it was a closed adoption. I can’t answer that question even if I did know the answer. So it’s not fair to keep asking me.” Not that I’d expect her to be fair. She’s a fifteen-year-old, for Pete’s sake.

  She blows her breath out in obvious exasperation. “I’m a teenager. I don’t have to be fair.”

  And way too smart for her own good.

  I turn down the tiny barn road and slow to a crawl. “If your birth mother had wanted you to know who she was, she’d have gone with an open adoption. But she didn’t.”

  “Maybe she’s changed her mind. You don’t know.”

  Unfortunately, I do know.

  I pull into the wide-open dirt parking area in front of Jack’s barn, kill the motor, and turn in my seat to face her. “Sometimes you just have to move on, hon. You have your whole life ahead of you.”

  She yanks the car door open and jumps out, her blondishred hair swinging. I’m still clutching the steering wheel when she leans back down to get in one last parting shot. “It’s kinda hard to move on when you don’t know where you’ve been.”

  She slams the door and strides toward the barn. I open my own door slowly and put my feet on the ground. My legs are as trembly as a new colt’s as I jog to catch up with her. I knew this wouldn’t be easy. I have to keep reminding myself that she’s better off with a little unfulfilled curiosity than she would be with the harsh reality. Isn’t she? Tears prick my eyes. If only I could be sure it’s Jenn I’m protecting.

  When we enter the covered arena, Jack looks up from where he’s standing next to the corral fence talking to a young cowboy. A grin lights up his whole face, and he raises his hand in greeting. The chill that invaded my heart on the way here recedes a little.

  He turns back to the cowboy for a brief moment then walks toward us. “I’m glad you came,” he says to Jennifer, but his brown eyes seek mine out as he finishes.

  Jenn turns to me. “I’m going to say hi to the horses, okay?”

  “Sure,” Jack and I say together.

  She flits over to the stalls and reaches through to pat one of the mares.

  “She seems happy,” Jack says.

  I glance up at him then back to Jenn. “Yeah, she does.” Which is amazing. But typical for teenage years, I guess.

  “I really am glad you came. I thought you might chicken out.”

  “Why should I?” I shrug. “I’m not considering climbing up on one of those crazy bulls.”

  “Speaking of that, you asked me about the plan. Here’s the idea. Your dad brought Sweetie over today.”

  “My Sweetie?”

  Jack nods. “He thinks that if you do a little barrel-racing exhibition before the bull riding, Jennifer might decide she’d rather do that.”

  I cringe. The thought of riding in front of people again makes me feel nauseated. It’s been so long. I glance around the arena. It’s not too bad—there are only a half-dozen cowboys milling around. But there’s Jack. Unfortunately, I can’t forget him. “Okay, I guess it’s worth a try.”

  “Good. I had Dirk saddle Sweetie. She’s waiting for you.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound like you thought I’d chicken out.”

  His dimples flash. “Not really.” He reaches over and flips one of my braids. “You may look like a carefree teenager tonight, but you strike me as a woman who does the right thing at all costs.”

  I used to be that woman. I glance toward the horse sta
lls where Jennifer pats a bay mare’s neck. Or at least I thought I was. “At all costs” is an innocuous-sounding phrase until the cost becomes too high to pay. Then what?

  “You okay?”

  I look up, and Jack is staring at me, concern written plainly on his handsome face.

  I nod and toss my braids over my shoulders. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

  He motions to the young cowhand he was talking to earlier, and the teen heads to the stalls. “Do you know Dirk?” Jack asks me.

  I shake my head.

  “He works part-time for me and part-time for your dad.”

  “I’m usually at the barn pretty early—”

  “And gone before anyone shows up. Yeah, I know.”

  I raise an eyebrow. The dark-haired cowhand walks up, leading Sweetie. Jack introduces us, and Dirk hands me the reins. “Nice to meet you, Dr. Donovan.”

  “You, too, Dirk.”

  When he leaves to set up the barrels, Jack pats Sweetie’s neck. “You barrel race on her?”

  “Not competitively. Her mother was my barrel-racing horse.” An old pain stabs my heart. “She died when I was away at college. But she left us a real nice colt.”

  He runs his hand down her smooth nose. “She sure did. It’s tough to lose a horse, though.”

  “Yeah, it is.” I guess I lost so much during those years that I considered it par for the course.

  “So Sweetie doesn’t know the barrel course?”

  I feel my face burn. “Actually, I’ve taught her the basics on my early morning workouts over the last eight years.” I grimace. “Silly, I know.”

  He shrugs. “Same workout. Only the audience is different. And I guess the prize money isn’t too great either.”

  I take a deep breath and step up into the saddle. “You think this will work? Jennifer has her own reasons for wanting to ride a bull.” I pray he won’t press me for those reasons, and he doesn’t.

  “Don’t we all? Let’s just hope hers aren’t solid enough to make her dig her heels in.”

  “Let’s hope.”

  Sweetie and I make some warm-up laps around the arena. When I’m feeling ready to face the barrels, I glance over to Jennifer, standing next to Jack. At least I have her attention. And not just hers. All the cowboys have gathered around the white metal fence. Toby Keith’s voice blares out over the loudspeaker singing “It’s a Little Too Late.”