“Hey, McCoy!” a voice called, but he was at the door by then and leaving, escaping into the hot Texas air, making his way toward his shiny new truck.
He had called Ella the next day, good as his word, but the emptiness had taken up residence and wasn’t budging, not even with the extra hours he was putting in at his boss’s ranch. He should quit, start his own operation, now that he had the money. But did he really want to lay down roots in Texas? Besides, there was more money to be made on the circuit, and he was in his prime.
Two weeks later he was heating a can of beans on his stove top when his cell rang.
“Hi, honey,” his mom said, her voice sounding older than he remembered.
“Hey, Mom.”
“I didn’t interrupt anything, did I?”
“Just my fancy dinner for one.”
“Pork and beans?”
He laughed at his own predictability. “Everything okay? Dad feeling all right?”
“Right as rain. Getting along just fine, and the ranch is doing great. How ’bout you?”
His mom heard things other people didn’t. He forced some energy into his tone. “Great. Won first in a big rodeo a couple weeks ago, me and Seth.”
“It was in our paper. I called, but kept getting voice mail.”
So he hadn’t felt like talking lately. “Sorry ’bout that.” He gave the beans another stir and removed the pot from the stove.
“Dad and I called to ask you something. Well, actually to tell you something, then ask a question.”
“What’s up?”
“We’re going on a mission trip—to Guatemala.”
“That’s great, Mom. You’ve always wanted to do something like that.”
“We figured we’d better do it before we get old and decrepit. We’re tired of the ranch holding us hostage, and when God tells you to go, well, you go.”
“Good for you.” He meant that. His parents never left their place except for quick trips to see him. A mission trip was right up their alley.
“We’d like for you to come look after things while we’re away.”
“What?”
“We’d feel good about leaving it in Jacob’s care—”
“Mom—”
“—if we weren’t going to be gone so long. But he can’t do the books, and your dad—”
“Mom, you know how I feel about that.”
Just the thought of seeing Shay again . . . Shay with her husband and their daughter.
“It’s been so long.”
And he missed Shay more than ever. He wanted to help his parents. He owed them everything. He tried to imagine going home. Seeing Shay with her husband, his arm draped possessively over her shoulder.
His heart seized. “I can’t.”
It was hard enough here, hundreds of miles away. What would it be like to see her again, knowing he could never have her? Knowing he’d thrown away the one thing that mattered most?
“I can’t.”
“She’s not married anymore, Travis.”
He hadn’t heard right. What did she mean?
“He up and left her months ago. They divorced.”
Divorced? How did he not know this? The creep left Shay and his own daughter? Travis felt for her, for the hurt and embarrassment it must’ve caused her. The selfish jerk . . .
“Next thing I heard, he died doing some fool rock climbing thing in Utah.”
He died? Shay’s husband was dead? Ex-husband, he reminded himself. His heart started beating again. Felt like the first time it had beat normally in months. Years. He should feel sorry, sorry that Shay’s marriage was over, but all he could find inside were relief and hope.
Hope. That was what set his heart beating hard and steady.
“Travis.”
“All right, I’ll come.”
“I didn’t even say when or how long.”
“When and how long?”
His mom chuckled. “We leave at the end of May, and we’ll be gone six months.”
“Done.”
“What about your apartment, your job, the rodeo . . . ?”
Seth was going to kill him. But they were so far ahead, they’d still have a shot at the finals. “I’ll figure it out. It’s time for me to come home.”
He couldn’t believe it. Maybe he’d have a second chance. Was it possible she didn’t hate him anymore for what he’d done? Was it possible she still missed him too, even after all these years?
“I always did think you made a great couple,” Mom said. “Your dad and I both.”
“I blew it.”
“You were awful young. If it seemed we didn’t support you, it was only because we were afraid you were too young. We feel partly responsible for what happened.”
“Got no one to blame but myself.” But he was ready and willing to set things right.
He’d used his remaining time in Texas tying up loose ends and preparing for his return to Moose Creek. He’d prayed until his knees were sore, seeking God’s will.
Now Travis punched the pillow and turned onto his side. He couldn’t have foreseen the crazy set of circumstances that had transpired. But the longer he lay there thinking, the more he realized that an incredible opportunity had fallen into his lap.
It was almost as if God had reached down and given him a helping hand.
That wasn’t so hard to believe, was it? That God saw his heartbreak, heard his prayers? What could he do but take the opportunity and hope for the best?
12
Something was wrong.
Shay glanced down at the lump under the quilt. Her foot throbbed like the dickens, but that wasn’t it. She glanced around the room. Then it hit her.
The light was all wrong. Golden yellow sunshine bounced off the beige walls, reflected from her bureau mirror.
Her eyes snapped to the clock: 10:15.
Olivia . . . the animals . . .
She threw off the quilt and lowered her feet to the floor, an action she instantly regretted.
“Olivia!”
The house was quiet. Too quiet. Why had Olivia let her sleep so late? She’d promised to milk the cows, but that had been done hours ago.
Shay hobbled across the room on her crutches and dressed awkwardly in gray sweatpants, grimacing against the pain in her foot. She hadn’t slept so late in years. She vaguely recalled waking in the middle of the night and taking more pain meds. She must’ve turned off her alarm and gone right back to sleep.
“Olivia!” Where had the girl gotten to?
Dressed now, Shay grabbed her crutches and left the room. “Olivia?”
The TV and lights were off. She’d better not have gone off on one of the horses. Or ridden her bike to Maddy’s. Or gone swimming in the creek. She was only twelve. Too young to be running around the countryside alone.
Shay hurried her steps as all manner of trouble crept into her thoughts. She maneuvered to the front door and nearly tripped over the threshold. After catching her balance, she tottered to the porch’s edge.
“Oliv—!”
From her spot in the vegetable garden, her daughter’s head snapped up. A streak of dirt smudged her cheek, and a cluster of weeds sprouted from her gloved hand. “Hey, Mom.”
“What are you—Why didn’t you—” She couldn’t think with her foot throbbing.
Olivia sprang up and dusted off her hands. “You shouldn’t be on that foot.”
“Why are you weeding?”
Olivia hated yard work. She always put it off.
“Mr. McCoy said if I did we could go—”
“Mr. McCoy?”
Movement near the barn caught Shay’s eye. As if his name had conjured him, Travis appeared in the doorway.
Shay clamped her teeth together. She’d told him—Why was he—Cussed man.
“Hey,” he called, approaching. Strutting, really, with those long thick legs of his. “What’re you doing up?”
“Go home, Travis.”
“Mom, he—”
�
�Stay out of it, Olivia.” Shay instantly regretted her tone. “Please . . . go inside and fetch my pills.”
Her daughter looked to Travis as if for permission, which only raised Shay’s hackles further. Olivia shrugged and headed inside.
“I told you not to come,” she said when Olivia was out of earshot. What she’d really said was that she’d manage. But the only thing she’d managed to do so far was sleep.
“And Dr. Garvin told you to stay off that foot.” He was close now, almost to the porch.
She hated the way she was suddenly conscious of her snarled hair and sleepy eyes.
Focus, Shay. She had to get him out of here. She didn’t like what he did to her insides, making them feel all curdled, like month-old milk.
“I don’t have the luxury of lounging on the couch all day, McCoy. The cows—”
“Are already milked.”
“The horses—”
“Are fed.”
She glared. “Well, the stalls need—”
“Clean.” He crossed his arms and cocked his head. Anything else? his posture said.
All that and he’d gotten Olivia to weed too? She wanted to smack the smug look from his face. Instead, she nodded sharply. “Thank you. I can take it from here.”
“I promised Olivia I’d take her to the creek.”
She didn’t know which galled her more. That he’d done her chores or that he was making promises to her daughter.
“Come on.” He ambled up the porch steps. “Let’s get you settled.”
She stifled the urge to back away.
“Here, Mom.” Olivia appeared with a glass of water and her pill.
“Thanks.” Shay took the pill and gulped it down, then realized belatedly she’d be drowsy for hours. Perfect.
“I have to finish the weeds,” Olivia said. “You really should take a load off.”
Olivia scampered down the porch steps and plopped back down in the vegetable garden. “Mr. McCoy’s gonna show me where he carved your initials in a tree when you were boyfriend and girlfriend.”
Shay narrowed a look at Travis. She had a few choice words for Mr. McCoy. But the words would keep till they were inside, out of Olivia’s earshot.
Shay jerked the screen door open and hobbled through. Her foot was throbbing like a son of a gun, and she felt like screeching at the top of her lungs. Once inside, she faced him, scowling. “Who do you think you are—”
“Sit down.”
“Coming over here, doing my chores, making my daughter promises?”
“Sit down, Shay.”
“First of all, the initials are probably long gone—”
“Do I have to pick you up and put you on that couch?”
Fine. She sank onto the sofa and glared. Happy?
He pushed over the ottoman, and she propped her splinted foot on it before he could do that for her too. Then he perched on the edge of the recliner.
Her head was beginning to throb now, and she just wanted him gone.
“Actually, our initials are still there, but we have more pressing matters to discuss.”
“I can’t imagine what.”
“I’m sure you can’t.” He ran a hand over his jaw, his trademark move.
She wondered what was troubling him. Had Olivia done something? Confessed something? She remembered the bike her daughter had stolen the year before and felt a moment’s panic. But Olivia had been truly sorry. Shay was sure she’d learned her lesson.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Hang on to your hat . . . It’s about the Founders Day thing. There was some kind of mistake.”
“Founders Day thing?”
“The ceremony.”
She thought about the way he’d looked at her at the end of the ceremony. Then she recalled the way his lips had thoroughly ravished her own. Warmth flooded her cheeks.
“It seems we’re legally married.”
It took a moment for the words to sink in. “What?”
“Our marriage license was there—it blew off the pedestal, remember?”
She shook her head, trying to clear the fog that was closing in.
“Pastor Blevins sent it to the county office by mistake, with a few others he’d found clumped in his Bible—you know how he is.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I got the official certificate in the mail.” His gaze went right through her. “We’re married, Shay.”
It was just a silly mistake. “Well, call and tell them what happened.”
“I did. The certificate has been validated and filed.”
“Well, tell them to unvalidate it!”
“It doesn’t work that way.”
She shook her head. “Our license was fourteen years old.”
“There’s no expiration date on a Wyoming license.”
“Well, it’s a Wyoming license, and the ceremony was in—”
“Wyoming. Bridal Falls, remember?”
“Of course I remember.” She rubbed her temple. “This is absurd. There must be something—the whole town was there, and everyone knows it was just—”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“How could our intentions not matter?” Like she’d ever marry him on purpose. Choose to blend their lives together, to wake up beside him every morning.
That was it. That was their out. “We didn’t consummate the vows!” She felt a smile building and looked at Travis.
His gray eyes dimmed, like someone had turned down the lights. “Don’t have to be so happy about that.”
She realized what she’d said, and her face burned hotter at the thought of him . . . of her . . . of them. She swallowed hard. Focus, Shay.
She’d stumbled upon something important. Something vital. Relief flowed through her, making her limbs go weak. “That settles it, then. It’s just a matter of going down there and straightening this out.”
Travis removed his hat and dangled it between his knees. He rubbed his jaw again.
Then he looked at her. “Wyoming doesn’t require vows to be consummated. I turned over every stone, Shay, believe me. I was on the phone with the county office for an hour first thing this morning. Like it or not, we’re officially husband and wife.”
It couldn’t be. It. Could. Not. Be. She shook her head. Denial. What she needed here was a little healthy denial.
But the look on Travis’s face refuted it. The way he stared calmly at her, as if it were a done deal. As if waiting for that reality to set in for her.
And then it did. It came and sat on her like a two-ton cow.
She was married to Travis at last. It would be funny if it weren’t so blame pathetic. Oh, the town would have a heyday with this one. She’d be the butt of every joke from now till Jesus returned.
Now would be good, God. Can You just come back now?
She waited, closed her eyes, just in case her prayer activated the whole end-times sequence.
But no, she was still sitting here, head and foot pounding angrily. She opened her eyes, and there Travis was too. Still looking at her with those deep eyes that saw everything.
A shadow danced across his jaw as he clenched it. In these few moments, she’d been so wrapped up in her own feelings, she hadn’t considered his perspective. Not until now.
Her laugh came out harsh, sardonic. “Well, this really blows for you, doesn’t it, McCoy. Getting out of wedlock this time is going to be a little harder than putting your truck in gear and heading south. You might have to fill out some paperwork, shell out some money. Oh, and our neighbors! You might have to face them like a man this time. Might have to see them whispering behind their hands and looking at you with pity. These things are public, you know. Even an annulment will be made public—and I’m assuming we qualify for that since we have not and will never consummate those stupid vows—”
She didn’t run out of steam. She had plenty more to say. But her voice was starting to wobble, and her eyes were starting to burn, and she would not let hi
m see her cry.
Pull it together, Shay. Quick. She swallowed past the fist in her throat and distracted herself by counting the pulse beats in her foot. Bom-bom. Bom-bom. Bom-bom.
“I’m really sorry.”
“What are you sorry for?” She wasn’t so blind with anger that she didn’t see he was a victim here too.
“Not about this.”
There was a new look on his face, one she hadn’t seen before. His eyes turned down at the corners. Sorrow? Frustration? Regret? She couldn’t quite put her finger on it.
“I’m sorry about before. Sorry for the embarrassment I caused you. I was young and immature and—”
“Stupid.”
A corner of his lip tucked in. “Yeah. Plenty of that.”
“A little late for apologies.”
“Way overdue.”
“Got that right.”
So he was sorry. So what? His apology didn’t undo the pain and suffering. Didn’t change how his bad choices had led to her bad choices.
“How do we get this ridiculous farce-of-a-marriage over with?”
He turned his hat in his hands. Got up, ambled over to the picture window, and looked out over the yard, where her daughter was probably still hunkered over the weed-ridden garden. He crossed his arms, taking his good ol’ time. His silhouette was long and sturdy. He was a good six inches taller than Garrett had been.
Brawnier.
She looked away.
“How’s your foot?”
His question took her aback. “Fine.” Maybe not fine, but the pill was starting to kick in. She had to get him out of here before she was slumped over the sofa with drool trickling from her mouth.
“Travis. What do we have to do?”
She wanted to get this over with as quickly and quietly as possible. Why was he taking all day to answer? Why was he looking out the window as if they had all the time in the world? As if—
He walked back, sat beside her on the sofa this time. Close enough she could smell his shampoo, far enough she couldn’t protest.
He turned toward her. “Just hear me out.”
She studied his gray eyes. “Why do I get the feeling I’m not going to like this?”
“Got an idea, something that would benefit us both.”
That look in his eyes, that expectant tone in his voice . . . it sent dread snaking through her veins.
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