The Cowboy's Family

by Brenda Minton

“But I think right now isn’t the right time for me to buy a horse.” She smiled and pretended it didn’t hurt. “I should go. Do you want me to take the girls back to Violet?”

  “First name basis with my mother-in-law?”

  “She took me to lunch today.” She admitted with a fading sense of ease.

  “That’s great. Well, I do love to know that my life is being arranged for me.” He lifted the girls down and then he put them in the back of his truck. “Stay there and don’t get down. There are too many hooves back here and not enough people paying attention.”

  When he headed her way, Rachel shivered a little. She’d seen that stormy look on his face before. His dark eyes pinned her to the spot where she stood. He untied his horse, still staring at her.

  “Rachel, I take care of my girls. I might not be the best cook in the world and maybe my house gets messy, but I haven’t let them down. I hope you know that.”

  “Of course I do.” She wanted to touch his arm, to let him know that she wasn’t the enemy. She kept her hands to herself. “Violet knows you’re a good dad. She’s only trying to help. Maybe it’s misguided, but…”

  “I get that.” He led the horse away from her. “I have to get in the arena to ride pickup. Can you take the girls back to Violet?”

  “I can. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

  He tipped his hat and rode off, the horse splattering mud as his big hooves bit into the ground. She stood there for a minute and then she turned to the girls. They were sitting on the tailgate of the truck, waiting. They knew better than to get down. She smiled at them and the two smiled back. They looked sweet in their plaid shirts, jeans and little boots.

  Violet must have dressed them. She smiled and reached for their hands. “Let’s head back to Grandma and watch the rodeo.”

  Rachel led the girls back through the crowd of cowboys. A few were zipping up their Kevlar vests in preparation for the bull rides. Bulls moved through the pens and a couple of the big animals were being run into chutes.

  Adam MacKenzie stood next to Jason Bradshaw. They were watching one of the bulls, a big gray animal that snorted and when he shook his head, he sent a spray of slime flying through the air.

  Kat giggled and wiped her cheek.

  “Hey, girls.” Jason lifted his hand and Molly high-fived him. “You having fun with Miss Rachel?”

  Kat nodded big and smiled. “She could live with us.”

  Heat crawled up Rachel’s cheeks. Jason and Adam laughed but they were definitely curious, she could see it in widened eyes and raised brows.

  “Wyatt is thinking about hiring a housekeeper,” she explained. “I’m not applying for the job.”

  “Oh, then that makes perfect sense.” Jason was married to Etta’s granddaughter, Alyson. Ryder’s wife Andie was Alyson’s twin.

  Rachel smiled at Jason and kept walking, a little girl on each side of her.

  A person didn’t have to go far in Dawson to find people who were somehow related. Andie had told her it made dating in Dawson a real challenge. The reason Andie had explained that to her was because she wanted Rachel to know that she shouldn’t have a difficult time finding someone to date in Dawson. At least she wasn’t anyone’s cousin.

  At the time it had been funny. Now, not so much. If the church in Tulsa called, she would be gone by the end of June. Once again she had been smart not to get too attached.

  Of course, she was just lying to herself. The two little girls holding her hands as they headed for the bleachers happened to be proof that she had gotten attached. The fast beating of her heart when she turned to watch Wyatt rope a bull that refused to leave the arena could probably be called serious evidence.

  When they reached Violet, she smiled at the girls and patted the bench next to her. “Come on, girls, time to sit and watch.”

  A rider was already flying out of the gate on the back of a big white bull. The ride didn’t last three seconds. The bull twisted in a funny arc, jumped and spun back in the other direction. Rachel held her breath as the rider flew through the air and landed hard on his back.

  “Who was that?” Rachel leaned to ask Jenna who sat on the bench in front of her.

  “I think it was one of the Coopers. I can’t keep them all straight.”

  It must have been because Travis Cooper hopped in front of the bull, distracting it while Jackson ran through the gate to the fallen rider. Rachel bit her lip hard and watched, waiting for the rider to move, waiting as the medics hurried into the arena.

  A leg moved, then an arm. The cowboy sat up. Rachel released her breath. The crowd erupted in applause. The cowboy lifted his hat as he stood, but then he went limp and his brothers lifted him and carried him from the arena.

  “I have a love–hate relationship with this sport,” Jenna MacKenzie said. She looked back and shook her head as she made the quiet comment. “I know why they do it. And then I wonder why they do it.”

  Rachel’s gaze traveled to the back of the arena, to the rider holding his horse back from the fray, waiting for the next rider out of the chute. His rope was coiled, ready in case of emergency. He was all cowboy in a white hat, his button-up shirt a deep blue. She remembered the silver cross dangling from a chain around his neck.

  If she didn’t care, it wouldn’t hurt to leave.

  But she did care. Kat cuddled close, leaning and then curling on the bench to rest her head on Rachel’s lap. Violet handed her a blanket. Kat carried that blanket everywhere, even to the nursery on Sunday.

  Rachel dropped it over the little girl who dozed, thumb in her mouth. Molly was still bright-eyed, watching another bull being loaded into the chute. A rider on the catwalk prepared to settle himself on the animal’s back.

  But it all lost importance because Kat was curled next to her asleep. Rachel stroked the child’s hair and Kat cuddled closer. By the time saddle broncs were run into the chutes for that event, Kat had climbed into her arms.

  Nothing had ever felt as sweet, or hurt so much. It reminded her of waking up with the tail end of a wonderful dream still fresh on her mind and realizing it had just been a dream.

  The cowboy who owned that dream was on his horse, taking the part of pickup man for the saddle bronc event. He glanced up at them, nodding and touching the brim of his hat. Molly waved big. He waved back, grinning. Oh, that grin. In his dark tanned face it flashed white and crinkled at the corners of his eyes. She didn’t have to see the details because it had been imprinted in her mind.

  His gaze settled on Rachel and Kat. She smiled and nodded. But then his attention returned to the task at hand.

  Tension knotted in Rachel’s lower back. Maybe due to the child in her arms, having to sit so straight, or the stress of watching men take risks on wild animals. Or maybe because Wyatt Johnson unraveled her a little, making her feel undone and kind of crazy.

  She tried to remember the last time a man had made her feel that way. It had to have been when she was fourteen and Andy Banks was the star football player who lived next door. He had been nice when they walked to school together. But one day she’d heard him in the hall talking about her weight and how he thought she had a crush on him. It had turned into a big joke for him, something to laugh about behind her back.

  It no longer hurt, but it was something she still remembered. That kind of pain left a scar.

  It made it hard to believe in a smile.

  But that girl was long gone. That girl had learned to eat healthy and exercise. After losing fifty pounds she’d seen Andy again and he hadn’t recognized her. He’d actually smiled and flirted.

  Rachel pushed back against those old feelings because she was the person God had created her to be. Fat or skinny, she was His. She knew who she was, and where she was going. She wasn’t the person those kids had teased or the girl who had rebelled trying to find herself.

  Instead she was the person who had taken control of her life. She had started believing in herself, who she knew she was and stopped believing the lies
that were whispered behind her back.

  Jenna reached back and touched her hand. “Wyatt’s sweet.”

  Rachel nodded but she didn’t know what to say, not when her own thoughts were still in a chaotic jumble and his mother-in-law had just left for a few minutes to stretch her legs.

  “Yes, he really loves his girls.”

  Jenna laughed a little, “Okay, sure, that’s what I meant.”

  Rachel knew what Jenna meant but she didn’t comment. Instead she watched Wyatt ready his horse to run it up alongside the saddle bronc as the cowboy on the bucking animal made a leap and landed on the back of the pretty chestnut gelding Wyatt had bought at the auction. The cowboy immediately slid to the ground and headed back to the gate as the judge called out his score.

  She was way too old for crushes. When Violet returned, Rachel made up an excuse why she had to leave. It wasn’t really an excuse. She had a lot to do tomorrow and she didn’t want to get to bed too late.

  She kissed the girls goodbye and eased down the bleachers to the ground. Wyatt turned, nodding when he saw her on the grassy area next to the arena. She smiled back, trying to pretend the moment meant nothing to her.

  The choir had taken their seats when Wyatt walked through the back doors of the church Sunday and found a seat near the front of the sanctuary. He’d taken the girls from the preschool Sunday school class to the preschool nursery. No Rachel in nursery this morning. His gaze scanned the front of the church, remembering she was in the choir.

  She had taken her seat on the left side of the stage with the other altos. Her choir robe was red and white. She stood as the song leader hurried onto the stage. Her hands were already clapping the beat of a fast-paced song. As he stood there like an idiot, her gaze shifted. She smiled big and waved a little.

  He hadn’t felt so completely tongue-tied since seventh grade and Cora Mason, a ninth grader, had thought he was pretty cute. She had teased him for a couple of weeks and then informed him that he was too young. He wasn’t twelve anymore.

  And the preacher’s daughter wasn’t too old for him or a flirt. She laughed and sang a song about joy. He had to refocus, from Rachel to the music. The music invaded his spirit, pushing the darkness from the corners of his soul.

  It was easy to find faith here. This church, Pastor Waters, it all worked together to make a difference in a heart that had been ready to turn itself off to anything other than anger and bitterness. There were moments when he started to feel alive again, as if he could turn it all around. He had been thinking about the teens in this church, not having a youth leader. Everyone scrambled to find activities that kept them out of trouble and gave them options on weekends when there wasn’t much to do in Dawson other than get in trouble.

  As the choir switched to a more worshipful song, Wyatt closed his eyes. He sang along, listening for one voice. But another spoke to his heart, this one said to trust.

  When he opened his eyes the choir was walking off the stage. Rachel hurried out the side door. He smiled because he knew that she would be going back to the nursery. No one could ever accuse of her of sitting by, waiting for someone else to do the work.

  Her mother, often fighting sickness, sat behind the piano. She had days when she couldn’t make it to church, but when she did make it, she played the piano and taught a Sunday school class.

  People made choices every day, how to deal with pain, what to do with anger. He remembered back to being a kid in church and the anger over his dad’s affairs. He had been angry when the affairs were made public, but he hadn’t blamed God. He’d blamed the person responsible, his father. Ryder had blamed God.

  Eighteen months ago, Wyatt had been the one blaming God.

  He leaned back in the pew and listened to the sermon. It took concentration to hear the words, but as he listened something in that sermon sounded like goodbye. It had to be his imagination. By the time the sermon ended, he was sure of it. It was just a sermon about moving on in life, making choices, following God. That wasn’t a goodbye.

  The congregation wasn’t in a hurry to leave, but Wyatt had two girls waiting to be picked up from the nursery. He shook a few hands and moved past a crowd that seemed like it might pull him into a long conversation. When he reached the back door, Pastor Waters stopped him.

  “No church tonight, Wyatt, but I wanted to talk to you if you have time.”

  “This evening?”

  “If that’s okay.”

  Wyatt glanced at his watch. Violet had stayed home to fix a roast and he had a horse that needed one more day under the saddle before his owner picked him up.

  “Seven o’clock okay?”

  Pastor Waters nodded. “Sounds good. I’ll meet you here.”

  “Good. I’d better get my kids.”

  Wyatt hurried down the hall to the nursery. He peeked in and his girls were the last to be picked up. Rachel leaned to tie Molly’s shoes. Wyatt waited, not saying anything. He watched as she made the loop and then hugged his little girl. Kat turned and saw him.

  “Daddy!”

  “Hey, kiddo.” He leaned over the half door and picked her up. Little arms wrapped tight around his neck. “Did you have fun?”

  Kat nodded, “We made Nose Ark.”

  “Noah’s ark! Cool beans!”

  “And there were lions and they roared,” Kat continued. “And fish.”

  “Fish on the ark?”

  Kat nodded, pretty serious about the whole thing. “And Rachel said we could fish.”

  He glanced over his daughter’s head and made eye contact with Rachel. She bit down on her bottom lip and shrugged a little. Nice way to look innocent.

  Chapter Nine

  Rachel smiled at Molly. The little girl stood next to her, looking first to Wyatt and then back to Rachel, her eyes big. Rachel smiled at Wyatt, too, ignoring that he looked a little put out. “You can go, too.”

  “Where are you going fishing?” He leaned against the door frame, still holding Kat.

  She knew this had to be difficult. For the last six months he’d kept them pretty close. Now Violet was pushing him to get a housekeeper and Rachel wanted to take them off fishing.

  “To the lake. I have permission to fish off a dock that belongs to one of our church members. It’s a pretty day and…”

  She was rambling. He did that to her, and she really resented that he managed to undo her ability to hold it together. He was just a man. A man in jeans, a dark blue polo and boots. His hair was brushed back from his face, probably with his hand. And he’d shaved for once. His cologne drifted into her space, a fresh, outdoorsy scent.

  Right, just a man.

  So why couldn’t she focus and act like the adult she was? He was leaning, hip against the door frame, watching her, his dark eyes a little wicked, sparkling with something mischievous; as if he knew that she wanted to step closer.

  One of the Sunday school teachers appeared behind him, opening her mouth to say something. Maria, just a few years older than Rachel, looked from Wyatt to Rachel and then she scurried away mumbling that she’d catch up with her later. That left her, Rachel, stuck in a quagmire of emotion she hadn’t been expecting.

  She climbed out of the emotional quicksand and got it together.

  “If it isn’t a good day…” She had been so sure of herself that morning when the idea hit.

  So much for the butterfly on her back serving as a reminder to think before acting. If she’d followed that rule she would have allowed him to sign his girls out, and she’d have driven on to the lake alone. Alone was much less complicated than this moment with Wyatt.

  “It actually is a good day.” He glanced out the window, and she followed his gaze to blue skies and perfectly green grass. “It’s a perfect day. I have a young horse that I need to work before his owner picks him up. I think Violet is leaving so it would be good to work him without the possibility of little girls racing across the yard.”

  “Good, then this works for both of us.” She felt a funny sensation i
n her stomach. “I’ll pack a lunch and we’ll make a day of it.”

  “Is it Frank Rogers’s dock?”

  “It is.”

  “Good, I just like to know where they are.”

  “We can go?” Molly jumped up and down. “And take our swimsuits?”

  “If your daddy says it is okay. I’ll go to our house and make sandwiches while you take them home to get play clothes. Swimsuits, if you don’t mind them getting in the water.”

  “If you keep them in the shallow water.”

  “I think we can manage.” She watched him leave with the girls and then she packed up her bag and headed out. This felt good, spending time with the girls. She had wanted to do it since they showed up in Dawson, but up till now he hadn’t looked as if he would agree to let them go.

  But today she would teach them to fish. And she wouldn’t think about not being here at the end of the summer.

  Two hours later, although fishing was her plan, she realized fishing was the last thing the girls wanted. Try as she might, Rachel couldn’t get them settled down next to her on the dock’s wooden bench. Instead they were running back and forth, sticking their feet in the water.

  Kat wrestled with her life jacket, wishing, over and over again, that she could take it off. Finally she sat down next to Rachel, her little head hanging as she fiddled with the zipper.

  “Leave it on, Kat.” Molly lectured in a voice far older than a three-, almost four-year-old.

  “I’m big enough.”

  Rachel smiled and shook her head at the statement.

  “I tell you what, girls, let’s skip rocks. And maybe we can wade.” She looked around, spotting the perfect way to kill time. “Or we could take a ride on the paddleboat!”

  Both girls let out squeals of delight. Who needed to catch fish, when there was something as fun as a paddle boat? She tightened the life jacket that Kat had managed to loosen and lifted her into the boat. Molly went in the seat next to her. Rachel untied the fiberglass boat and settled into the empty seat next to the girls. She started to peddle and the little boat slid away from the dock.