Now he knew what had been wrong all along. There was obviously something in his brain that was broken when it came to Jolie.
He didn’t like it one bit.
But he didn’t have a clue how to fix it.
Gravel spewed behind him as he drove like the lunatic that he was down the road leading to his house. He’d built the place with his bare hands the year after Jolie left. He’d put a lot of sweat—and yes, tears—into the house. It had been a refuge away from the eyes of everyone in Dew Drop. Driving into the yard, he was relieved when he saw the stone-and-log fortress—home. It was sturdy. It had clean lines and hard edges. Just like his heart.
His grandmother kept telling him it needed a woman’s touch to soften it up—some flowers, and a couple of trellises of roses and morning glories.
It was fine like it was, he’d told her.
He walked in through the heavy door that he’d made himself from the oaks in his woods, with hand-sanded planks and bold, strong hinges that were meant to last a lifetime. Strong, dependable, reliable.
Slamming the door behind him, Morgan’s steps echoed as he walked straight through the empty house and out the back door onto the deck that overlooked the river.
Had he built this house to keep her memories at bay? Or had he built this house on the crook of the river to remind him of her?
The question slammed into him the minute the sound of the flowing water reached him.
Grasping the deck railing, he glared down at the river twenty feet away. His life had been in order. It had been settled.
And now this.
I love you.... Her words reverberated through his thick skull. Coming back here and being near you, seeing the man you’ve become, watching you with the boys and witnessing the dedication that you have to them and this ranch, it just makes my heart ache with regret that I wasn’t here to help build this with you.
Regret. He knew a thing or two about regret. He closed his eyes and prayed for God to throw him a lifeline.
Part of him clamored to go back and tell Jolie he wanted her here. However, he’d learned that love was about letting them go. It was about helping Jolie do what she was meant to do.
He wasn’t giving in to any weakness this go-around. Because if he gave in, if he opened his heart again and then she left, he knew the pain would be worse than the first time.
No. Girding up the door was the best thing.
But the kiss. His pulse kicked up like a buckin’ bronc just thinking about that kiss. How was he ever supposed to forget it? He couldn’t and he knew it.
When she left...at least he’d have the memory. But it was going to take everything he had to stay strong and let her go.
* * *
Jolie went through the week—which was blessedly busy—on remote much of the time, but to her surprise, she was able to enjoy the boys’ excitement in getting ready for Saturday’s fun.
Focus, Jolie, she kept telling herself. Focus on the fishing tournament, on keeping sixteen boys in line, on putting Morgan’s rejection on the back burner.
The boys weren’t the only ones who were excited. Nana, Ms. Jo and Mabel had prepared all manner of goodies for the occasion with help from Edwina, T-Bone and many others from town. No one would starve come Saturday—that was for certain.
Dew Drop and the surrounding area had been invited and a huge number of folks were going to turn out. Thirty-two teams had applied for the tournament, which was a great number—not too many and not too few. The boys had been figuring out how to decorate their boats and for the most part, they had kept it simple, not wanting to distract themselves from the main goal, which was to hook the biggest fish.
Many of the boats had forgone the decorations completely, because it had been optional, but some were done up in style. There were boats with umbrellas, including one that had an inflatable palm tree sitting next to the trolling motor, which, of course, would remain off because they had to use paddles. Another had an American flag flying. Sammy and Morgan had mounted a set of sun-bleached cow horns on the front of their boat and Sammy was proud of it. She’d laughingly offered to put a big red bow on the horns for added decoration. Horrified, they’d declined her offer.
Morgan had been around some, keeping busy with the boys and keeping interaction with her to a minimum. She was fine with that. She still wasn’t clearheaded about what had happened between them. She’d told Morgan she loved him, and he hadn’t said it back. They’d shared the kiss of a lifetime and she’d felt certain his whole heart had been in that kiss, and yet instead of telling her he loved her, he’d refused to let her stay. This really confused her, and by the end of the week it was becoming increasingly hard to focus. Best bet was to do as they were doing and let it steep—for now.
But it was not a foregone conclusion that they were done. Oh no, not by a long shot.
Saturday dawned, cooling off at eighty-five degrees—perfect for Texas in November. As up-and-down as the weather was in the fall months, it could easily have dawned at sixty degrees and wet. God had given them a beautiful day, though, and for that Jolie was thankful.
The lake area was beautiful, too—a steep hill sloping down to a picturesque lake surrounded by large oak and cedar trees. Upon Jolie’s arrival, a group of deer lifted their heads from eating acorns beneath the oaks and raced for cover within the nearest stand of trees. She took a moment to enjoy watching them before driving the rest of the way down to the dock.
It wasn’t long before things started rolling. The boys’ boats had been carried down the night before and sat ready to slide into the lake, palm trees, cow horns, flags and umbrellas included.
Rowdy, Tucker, Randolph and most of the cowboys who worked on the ranch showed up to help direct people and offer assistance where needed. They were also in charge of the arena event, which the boys had decided was going to be a cow-dressing competition. Jolie could only imagine the fun the kids were going to have treating cattle like Barbie dolls.
Nana and Ms. Jo were unpacking a truckload of goodies and Mabel was setting up the drink station, with the help of several of their friends from church. Jolie realized early into this fundraiser that the folks of Dew Drop were just as generous with their time and money as they’d ever been. A feeling of peace filled her—it was nice to belong here.
She only wished Morgan felt it was nice for her to belong here, too.
“Where in the world are those two loudmouth whittlers?” Ms. Jo asked about thirty minutes before it was time for the boaters to put in. The grounds were crowded with folks milling around and kids running and playing. Everything was set—everything except Chili and Drewbaker. They hadn’t shown up yet.
“I don’t know. This isn’t like them, is it?” Jolie asked, checking her watch one more time.
“Not on your life. Those two are usually first responders when it comes to being on time.”
Ms. Jo’s words were barely out of her mouth when a honking horn drew everyone’s attention. Drewbaker’s dusty blue, sixty-something Ford pickup topped the hill, heading slowly down the big slope toward everyone. Both men were grinning as everyone gaped at what they were pulling on the flatbed trailer behind the truck.
It was a round metal watering trough, about six feet across. It had two folding chairs sitting in it with a cooler in the center. On the edges they’d mounted fishing pole holders, and several poles stood at attention.
“Heavens to Betsy, what is that?” Ms. Jo snapped, marching to meet them as they eased to a halt.
“Here we are, secret weapon in tow,” Drewbaker said jauntily as he climbed from his old truck with a grin.
Chili’s cheeks were pink with excitement and cheer as he hurried around the front of the truck to where a crowd had gathered, studying their contraption. “Ain’t she a beaut?” he bragged.
“She’s a beaut, all right,�
� Ms. Jo snorted. “Secret weapon—ha! I’ll have to see it to believe it.”
“Does it float?” Wes asked, sauntering up, eyeing the contraption with interest.
Drewbaker’s mouth dropped open. “Does a dog wag its tail? Sure it floats!”
“But will it tip over?” Joseph asked skeptically.
“Well, now, there’s an interesting possibility,” Chili chuckled. “Me and ol’ Drewbaker might just be takin’ ourselves a little bath if it tips one way or the other.” He tugged out two life vests and held them up. “Just in case.”
Morgan stepped through the crowd, brushing past Jolie as he went. The woodsy scent of his cologne teased her senses. Unfair, she thought.
“Fellas, I’m not sure what to make of this, but I have to say I’m interested in seeing what happens when y’all climb in it.”
“How do you get it in the water?” Caleb asked.
“Yeah,” called a few people in the crowd.
Good question. Because the trough wasn’t on a regular boat trailer and there was no curve to the bottom, she assumed they would have to get the boys to carry it down to the water.
“If we could get a little assistance,” Drewbaker said. Climbing up on the flatbed trailer, he began gathering the fishing poles from their holders. He handed some to Sammy and Caleb and B.J., who had raced to help.
Drewbaker then lifted the fold-up chairs out and handed them off to a couple of boys, and the ice chest, too. When the boat thing was empty, he had Morgan, Tucker and Rowdy help him and Chili lift it to the ground, then tip it on its side and simply roll it down the hill to the end of the dock. Once there, they turned it upright and eased it into the water.
“Well, I’ll be,” Jolie murmured.
Chili used a rope tied to the handle to secure it to the dock. Now all that was left was their managing to get in the thing.
Ms. Jo and Mabel watched with squinted eyes.
“I have to give it to the old codgers, it’s original.” Mabel chuckled, shaking her head.
“They’ll probably drown themselves before the day is done,” Ms. Jo retorted. “Come on, Mabel, let’s go show these fellas how it’s done.”
And so the day began.
The tournament was officially started with the wave of a flag, and everyone jumped into their boats and pushed out into the water ready for battle. Everyone, that is, except Drewbaker and Chili. They eased into their circular contraption very carefully, keeping their weight evenly distributed, grinning the whole time. Once in their seats they pushed off from the dock.
Drewbaker gave a salute, and to the amazement of everyone watching, they floated out onto the lake like a dream!
Nana paused beside her. “I don’t know about you, but I have a feeling the boys will vote that funny dinghy the winner.”
Jolie chuckled. “If those two get dunked in the lake, it’s a sure winner.”
Nana’s eyes widened. “I wouldn’t put it past those two to do something like that on purpose if they aren’t having any bites today.”
A sudden squeal from the lake had them both zeroing in on Sammy and Morgan.
“I got one! I got one!” Sammy called. Morgan was sitting beside him in the small two-man boat, calmly showing him how to reel in the fish. Once he got it reeled in, he waved his pole in the air, the small fish dangling above their heads until Morgan grabbed it and took the hook from its mouth.
“That’s good for both of them.” Nana tilted her head to the side. “Morgan has been preoccupied and fairly irritable this week—more so than anytime since you got here. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
Not wanting to discuss their situation even with Nana, Jolie hesitated. “Let’s just say I might know something about it, and I don’t know how to fix it.”
Nana gave her a sympathetic smile. “This is what I was afraid of. I remember the first year after you left. I couldn’t help Morgan with the pain, and I had to watch him work through it in his own way. ‘He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds’—I clung to that verse for Morgan, Rowdy and Tucker after their momma died. And I did it again for Morgan after you left. I knew he didn’t love Celia.” She shrugged. “I couldn’t tell him that, though. Thankfully the poor girl had the gumption to realize it herself and do something about it.” Her kind eyes looked steadily into Jolie’s, and Jolie couldn’t speak. “This can’t be easy for either of you. I’ve been praying God’s will—and you know He does have one. Even if we don’t understand it. God’s got a plan, Jolie.”
Patting her on the arm, Nana headed toward the goody table. Jolie took a deep breath and studied Morgan from a distance. Sammy was keeping him busy, fidgeting on the boat seat and hooking his shirt almost every time he tried to cast his line. Morgan patiently worked with him.
Dear Lord, what is Your plan for my life?
“Please tell me,” she whispered in the slight breeze. It was the first time that Jolie could remember actually asking God that question.
* * *
Morgan was trying hard not to laugh as Chili and Drewbaker were having a terrible time with a leak in their tub.
“They’re biting better on your side,” Chili said, poking his buddy in the shoulder with the tip of his pole. “And it’s time for you to bail water and me to fish.”
“Hang on to your horses. I think I have a bite,” Drewbaker grumbled, keeping his fishing pole steady over the water.
Morgan and Sammy had been hearing bits of the fellas’ conversation off and on all morning. It was entertaining, that was for sure. Fishing was normally a quiet sport, but not today on this lake. When a kid caught a fish, he whooped and his boat rocked with excitement—Morgan was glad he’d insisted on life vests. When a grown man caught a fish bigger than his neighbors’, he whooped, too, and taunted them with his catch.
“I sure am liking this fishing,” Sammy said, grinning when he pulled in his third bass of the morning. Holding it up proudly, Morgan chuckled.
“That’s because you’re whipping the pants off me.”
Sammy shrugged. “I got the moves.”
“Yeah, I guess you do.”
“Hold on to your hat, Chili, I’ve got a bite! A big-un, too,” Drewbaker yelped excitedly, drawing everyone’s attention. His line stretched out and he began reeling in his catch. It was a fighter and the bass did a flip out of the water.
“Whoa, Nellie! That’s a big-un,” Chili said, halting his dipping. He shot to his feet in excitement, making the tub rock with force. It would have been fine except Drewbaker’s chair tilted when Chili slammed back down in his seat. Hanging on to his pole, Drewbaker rode his chair as it slid with the rocking tub. To Morgan’s surprise the tub stayed afloat as Drewbaker managed to get his good-size bass into the tub without bashing his buddy.
“I thought for sure they were goners,” Sammy said, laughing.
Morgan was thoroughly enjoying fishing with the boy. Sammy was doing well in general, and seemed more settled now. The fact that he hadn’t freaked out over the thought of the tub tossing the two whittlers into the lake was a good sign, too.
“Catch him,” Drewbaker demanded, drawing their attention again. Chili was bent over, grasping at the bottom of the boat. “What’s going on now?” Morgan called to the duo.
“The fish got loose in the bottom of the boat!” Chili yelled.
Drewbaker looked up, over the edge. “There’s so much water, he’s swimmin’ and thinkin’ he’s found a new home. We can’t catch him!”
“You two need to just take that contraption to the shore right now,” Ms. Jo demanded. “Serious-minded fisherwomen can’t even think straight for all y’alls lollygagging and jammer-jawin’!”
Sammy grinned at Morgan, his big eyes bright. “This is the most fun I’ve had since I got here. I sure am glad I’m with you.”
If that didn’t get to a man, Morgan didn’t know what would. “Kiddo, it’s the most fun I’ve had in a long time, too.”
It wasn’t lost on him that all of this had been Jolie’s idea. She was a good teacher, with an eye for making things special for the boys. He had to admit it—she would be a blessing to the program if she were to stay.
The question was, could he handle it if she did?
Chapter Eighteen
The fishing tournament was a success. The boys could not stop smiling and teasing each other after they got back on dry land. And they were thrilled with the results of the boat-decoration contest—it was no surprise when Jolie counted the votes from the jar and announced that the galvanized tub had won unanimously.
Jolie loved seeing everyone have a good time. Kids were running around playing kickball, and people were visiting and catching up while Morgan and his men unloaded the young cows for the cow-dressing contest. She felt a rush of pride that her boys had made this day happen, with a little help from her. And from Morgan.
She and Morgan made a good team.
Pushing the thought from her mind, she went over to help organize the kids into six different groups—there were about seventy in all, in a vast range of ages. After they were organized, she lined them up around the temporary arena Morgan had hauled in for the occasion. She put Sammy in a group with Wes and several kids who were his age and younger—she hoped he would feel like the leader of the younger ones.
“Jolie, can you help?” Rowdy called to her. Climbing through the portable railed panels of the temporary corral, she crossed to where the cowboys were gathered around Morgan. His gaze landed on her and he lifted his chin in greeting.
“Your job is to pick a cow, stay by her and help out if needed. The object of the game is for the kids to dress the cow using the clothing they have on. Your job is to make sure no one takes off anything they shouldn’t.”
“Seriously?” Jolie asked. This was a new event for her.
Rowdy chuckled. “You’d be surprised just how inventive kids can be during a cow dressing.”
Her Unforgettable Cowboy Page 15