The Cowboy's Homecoming

by Brenda Minton

  “You deserve someone safe, someone who isn’t going to hurt you.”

  “You mean the church?”

  “The church, yeah. And me. Beth, you deserve someone steady.”

  “Right, of course.” She slid from his embrace. Standing, she reached for the door of the tractor. Lights flashed in the corner of her eye.

  “The police are here. Someone probably spotted your truck.”

  She nodded and opened the door to step out. “I have to go.”

  “Let me park this thing and I’ll go with you.”

  She smiled back at him. “I can handle it.”

  She had to handle it because she had drawn the line between them and he had drawn another line. She walked toward the church and wondered how it had become the battleground.

  If she had to choose between Back Street and Jeremy…

  She wouldn’t let herself think that thought, not now. A deputy was getting out of a patrol car and her truck had been vandalized. That should be enough to think about for one day.

  Chapter Nine

  Jeremy parked the tractor and hopped down, landing hard on his left leg. Big mistake. He winced, inhaling a deep breath, pushing past the jarring pain. As a kid he’d been told all of those falls from horses, and the bull wrecks, would catch up with him. In the last couple of years he’d become a believer.

  His injuries were catching up with him. He was starting to feel like an old man. He watched the retreating back of Bethlehem Bradshaw. Other things were catching up with him, too. He grinned at that thought and even laughed a little. He’d played pretty fast and loose over the years, thinking he’d never get caught.

  But she wasn’t the type of woman a man walked away from. She was the type of woman a guy had kids with, maybe a minivan. Or a big old SUV, the kind with three rows of seats and movie screens that dropped down from the ceiling.

  If he’d been a settling-down kind of guy, it would have been with someone like Beth.

  He limped across the road to the church. A crowd had gathered. Jason had arrived; so had Beth’s dad. They were standing with her as she spoke to the deputy. Jeremy walked to the back of the group and waited. He listened as Beth explained what had happened.

  He listened when the deputy told her that Chance was in town visiting his family. Of course that wasn’t enough to charge the guy. If she’d seen a vehicle, or there had been witnesses… There hadn’t been.

  Jeremy watched the color drain from Beth’s face, saw her glance around, looking for something or someone. Her gaze latched on to his. He smiled and winked. He didn’t know if he could convey in a look that he wouldn’t let anyone hurt her, but he hoped she understood.

  He would do his best to keep her safe from Chance. He wouldn’t be the one to hurt her, either. And he didn’t know if she really got that message. She needed someone better than him. She needed a man who planned to stick around, not a cowboy who had never held on to a woman long enough to get attached.

  He walked back to his RV and eased his way up the steps. Man, he was tired of living in two rooms. He had a big house on the outskirts of Tulsa. If he’d been there he’d have taken a swim to work the kinks out of his leg.

  Instead he grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge and opened the lid on a bottle of aspirin. A few of those and putting his leg up for a minute, he’d be as good as new. Or as good as he was going to get.

  He walked past the door and glanced out. Beth was talking to her dad. She wiped at her cheeks and looked away. She looked in his direction again. He was the last person she needed to look toward. Man, he’d hurt more women than he could remember. He wasn’t anyone’s hero.

  The Bible on the table caught his attention. He sat down in the half-size recliner and kicked back, his legs stretched out on the footstool. He set his bottle of water on the table and picked up that Bible.

  “Yeah, I remember.” He remembered being a kid in secondhand clothing two sizes too small and coming to Back Street to feel safe.

  He remembered taking his Sunday school lessons so seriously he would’ve fought anyone who teased him for going to church.

  His stories were a lot like the ones that people had shared with him. People’s pasts were connected to Back Street Church. His own past was connected to this church.

  This morning there had been a message on his cell phone from the head of planning and zoning. They had a list of names on a petition, people who were asking that the land the church was on not be zoned for commercial use.

  That was Beth’s handiwork. He kind of admired her pluck, even if it was going to cost him a bundle to fight it.

  A knock on the door interrupted those thoughts. He put the Bible down and looked up. Beth peeked in through the screen.

  “What’s up?”

  She stood on the outside looking in at him. “Nothing. Are you coming out?”

  “Yeah, in a sec.” As soon as he could convince himself to put the footstool down. “You can come in.”

  She opened the door. “You’re sitting still? In the middle of the day.”

  He nodded in the direction of the kitchen. “Grab a bottle of water if you want.”

  She did and then she turned, her face still a little pale. Her eyes huge and rimmed with dark smudges. “They’re going out to talk to him. It’ll make him mad.”

  “Beth, that’s how he controls you, by making you believe you have no power.”

  Should he remind her that they were in a battle over Back Street and yet here she was in his RV? No, he wouldn’t, because she needed someone to talk to.

  She sat down on the sofa. “I know. I do know that. But it isn’t easy being strong. If I turn him in, he threatens to do worse when he gets out. If I call the police, he makes me feel guilty. How can I do that to someone I love?”

  “Do you love him?” He thought his voice sounded strained.

  Beth opened her water. She didn’t look up. And he had a long minute of wondering why she had to think about the answer to that question. Finally she shook her head. He pretty near sighed with relief.

  “No, I don’t love him. I think he killed any love I had for him a long time ago. The only thing left is fear, and I’m working on that.”

  “You’re a lot stronger than you think. You walked away.”

  She smiled, her expression soft. “I stayed. For a long time, I stayed.”

  “I know.

  “He had me convinced that I wasn’t worth anything. He made me believe that no one would want me but him, and that I was lucky to have him.”

  Jeremy forced himself to relax, to take a deep breath and unclench his fists. He put the footstool down and leaned forward, because he couldn’t sit back and have this conversation with her. He wasn’t worth much, but he’d never hurt a woman the way Beth had been hurt.

  “Beth, he’s a sick individual with a big problem. And you aren’t the cause. Man, any guy would be lucky—no, blessed—to have you.”

  She smiled one of those smiles that knocked a guy backward. It hit him full force. It made him want to stand in front of her, protecting her forever. It made him want to jump in his truck and drive over to the Martin place.

  He tried hard not to think that he’d just said blessed. God talk felt like a foreign language. But what else could he say, other than the truth?

  Beth’s smile dissolved a little. She held the bottle of water in both hands and looked up.

  “Jeremy, I’ve been to counseling. For the last year I’ve had to work through those feelings. Chance tore at my self-esteem to keep me a prisoner in our relationship. I’ve been rebuilding myself, my faith, my life.” She stood up. “And now I’m going to get you a bag of ice.”

  “Ice?”

  “For whatever you injured jumping out of that tractor. I saw you limping across the road like some old dog that had been hit and was coming home to lick his wounds.”

  “It’s my knee and the pins holding my leg together. Too bad they don’t have bionic parts, I’d be worth millions.”

>   “They wouldn’t put bionic parts in a cowboy that can’t stay off the back of a bull.” She laughed, “Or stay on the back of a bull. I guess that’s where the problems start, when you fall off.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it.” She opened a drawer and found a plastic bag. After she dumped a tray of ice in it she brought it back and dropped it on his knee.

  “Thanks.” He winced and moved the ice. “I really don’t need it. I took aspirin.”

  “You can take care of yourself, right?”

  “I’m a long way on the other side of fifteen, Beth.”

  “So am I.” She kneeled next to him. “Don’t take over. Promise me you won’t do that. I need to be strong.”

  He tangled his fingers in brown hair that slipped through his fingers like strands of lavender-scented silk. She leaned and he brushed the back of his hand against her cheek. Soft. He sighed and pulled his hand back, because this wasn’t where they needed to be going.

  She needed to be strong. That was her way of warning him to step carefully and to not invade her life.

  “I know that you’re strong.” He also knew that if he caught Chance Martin anywhere near her, Jeremy wouldn’t be responsible for what he did to the other man.

  He would let her be strong. He wouldn’t let her get hurt. Not even by him.

  Beth stood and then she leaned to kiss Jeremy on the cheek. It should have been an easy gesture between two people who had known each other since childhood. An innocent kiss on the cheek. But she paused in the moment, breathing in his scent, his warmth. His hand moved, to her neck and he held her there, her lips against his cheek, her breath catching and then releasing in a quick sigh. He turned and their lips connected.

  But she was being strong, not afraid. She was in control of her life. She was in control of this kiss, her heart melting, her world spinning. She opened her eyes and released herself from his grasp. As she stepped back, he stood, still holding her hand.

  He looked apologetic. Oh, no, that wasn’t what she wanted. She touched her finger to his lips.

  “Don’t say it. Please don’t say how sorry you are. Remember, rebuilding self-esteem here.”

  He grinned. And he didn’t say anything.

  Beth backed toward the door. “I’m going home now. Jason is taking me, since my truck is unfortunately out of commission.”

  “Jason is out there? Waiting for you? He knows you’re in here?”

  The questions came fast and she laughed at the way his eyes darted to the door. “Yeah, he’s out there. He gave me five minutes and said if I’m not back he’s coming in.”

  “Oh…”

  “Don’t say a bad word.”

  He shot her a look and ran a hand through hair that was a little spiky on top. She should let him off the hook, but what fun would that be?

  “Beth, seriously, I respect Jason. You’re…”

  “Off limits? Haven’t I always been? Wasn’t that the problem when I was sixteen? My dad caught us together. Jason made a threat against your person. You were a chicken.”

  “I’m a lot of things but…”

  “But you’re not a chicken? Really?”

  He took a step toward her, barely grimacing, she noticed. His brown eyes glinted in the shadowy interior of the RV. She didn’t smile, wouldn’t smile. Her heart had needed this, had needed him. And she wasn’t going to think about the past, or why he was there.

  “I’m not afraid of your brother.”

  She laughed. “Jason is helping in the church. He told me to take my time and let him know when I’m ready to go. He also said to tell you there’s a community picnic here tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, I think I knew that. And thanks for scaring ten years off my life.”

  “You aren’t afraid. Remember?”

  He snaked an arm around her waist. “Not at all.”

  Beth reached for the door. Game over. “Yeah, neither am I.”

  “Chicken?” He whispered close to her ear.

  “Not at all.” She stood on tiptoes and kissed him, pushing the limits because he whispered her name into the kiss and backed away.

  She walked down the steps of the RV and across the parking lot calling herself every kind of fool. She was playing with fire. She was playing with her heart and his. Why? To prove she wasn’t afraid? To prove to herself that a man could find her attractive, maybe even love her?

  Or because she liked the man in question? Maybe she more than liked him. When she’d been fourteen and running barrels she and her friends would twist apple stems to find out the first name of the man they’d marry. One twist for every letter of the alphabet. She’d always made the stem of her apple twist off at the letter J.

  Rather than finding Jason she walked to the back of the church, to an old tree that still shaded the lawn. She’d played here as a kid, under this tree. She’d had plastic horses and cowboys. Her gaze drifted back to the RV. Jeremy had played with her.

  And she’d had faith. She’d had a mom who taught her to believe and to pray. Her mom had been so strong—a fighter who battled cancer until she couldn’t fight another battle.

  At the end she’d turned to this church because she wanted her last weeks to be peaceful, spent with her community and her family. She’d attended church with her head wrapped in scarves and her body frail. Jason and Beth had been at her side. And their father had stayed at home, angry with God.

  His anger had spilled over on this church. Today she’d watched him look at the building, his eyes still sad. He connected this church with the wife he lost.

  This church. She shaded her eyes with her hand, blocking the bright, afternoon sunlight. This church, faded and worn, had sheltered them. It had provided stories of faith, people who loved one another, songs about Jesus.

  Jeremy on one side, the church on the other. Beth rubbed a hand across teary eyes. She wanted to save this church for the memories that were made here and for her mother who had held on to faith here.

  And she wanted to back away from the battle for Jeremy.

  The answers were no longer simply black and white.

  Cancer had taken Beth’s mother. Alcohol and bad choices had stolen Jeremy’s childhood. This church had been there for all of them. And how long had it taken her to see that? She had wanted to preserve it for her mother’s memory, but it was faith she needed to hold on to.

  Jason walked around the side of the building. He must have seen her walk this way, or had looked out the window and saw her standing beneath the tree. She smiled at her brother and met him halfway.

  “Ready to go?” Jason pushed his hat back and lifted it before settling it into place again.

  “Yeah, I’m ready. Is there anything else to do here?”

  “No, they have it covered. Jeremy has brought in partitions so the families who are left have their own little areas inside the sanctuary. Did you know that?”

  No, she hadn’t, but she wasn’t surprised. He had watched those people sign her petition and he was still taking care of their needs while they were living in the church.

  The church was quiet. Several of the families had moved out. The few that remained were working on the homes they wanted to move back into.

  Jeremy walked down the steps of his RV and looked at the big building with the faded paint and the tall steeple. Years ago an old van had picked him up each Sunday, driven by Teddy Buckley. As he got older, Jeremy made sure his little sister was up and ready. Even if they couldn’t find her shoes, he took her to church.

  Church meant breakfast and sometimes lunch. Church meant a break from his mother passed out on the couch. Or her crazy manic moods when she cleaned and cooked, as if everything was right in their world. He’d never taken a drink in his life, because he wouldn’t take the chance of becoming his mother.

  He’d always had a plan to get away from her. It was his one real skill set. He was good at sticking to his plans. He had planned a world championship in bull riding and he’d made it. It had taken t
en years, but he’d done it. He also had a world title in roping.

  He’d planned to build a motorcycle dealership that thrived. He’d done more than that. He’d built a custom bike shop that was doing better than he’d ever dreamed. He wasn’t Midas, but he’d done okay for himself. And for his family. He’d helped Elise and her husband. He’d taken care of his mother.

  He was still taking care of her.

  It was hard to fathom, loving her, even after all she’d done to them. He shook his head and turned away from the church. In the field across the road, cattle were starting to sound the dinner cry. A horse whinnied. He breathed in deep, enjoying the clean smell, the familiar scents. Man, this was home.

  He had tried not to let that be his thoughts about this place, but as hard as he tried to push it back, it kept on coming back. This was home. Tulsa was a big house that impressed people. It was traffic, business, playing the right games.

  It wasn’t home.

  He walked across the road to the barn, to the corrals and fences. Pain throbbed lightly in his leg, reminding him of the crazy things he’d done to earn money to buy this place. A dozen years fighting it out on the back of bulls in arenas packed with fans.

  It would be a lie to say he hadn’t loved that life. He’d loved the traveling. He’d loved the fans. He’d loved the money.

  He walked into the big old barn that had been on this land for more years than he could remember. He’d done some repairs, but the place was still in good shape. Better shape than the house he’d been trying to build. It wasn’t good for much more than kindling, thanks to the tornado.

  A truck slowed and turned into the driveway of the barn. Jeremy groaned. Too late to pretend he wasn’t here. Too late to head out the back door. He guessed it would have to happen sooner or later. He leaned against the side of the barn and waited.

  He tried to look casual, arms crossed and hat tipped low. He guessed he probably looked more like an Old West gunslinger than a guy trying to pretend he just didn’t care.

  “Saw you out here, thought I might stop and see how you’re doing.” Tim Cooper, otherwise known as his dad, walked up to the barn. He wasn’t the young father of a dozen kids anymore. His hair had grayed. The lines in his face were deeper.