by Marin Thomas
Finally the door opened.
A man stood in the shadows. Will couldn’t make out his features, but his voice sounded hoarse and mean. “Go away, kid.”
Shaking in his shoes, Will asked, “Are you my father?”
“With a mother like yours, you’re not good enough to be anyone’s kid.” The door slammed in his face.
From that day forward Will hadn’t given Henry Blythe a second thought, but deep down the man’s rejection had left its mark. Will accepted that he was no good because of who his mother was—a woman who’d borne seven children—six of them fathered by different men. That Ryan had never been interested in knowing Will reminded him of the shame he carried.
Feeling like a cornered animal Will lashed out, “What do you want from me?”
Marsha backpedaled. “If you don’t want to meet your son, say so and we won’t interfere in your life.”
“It’s easy to paint me the bad guy, isn’t it?” He pointed his finger. “You want everything on your terms and you expect me to be grateful that you’re allowing me to see my son.”
“You don’t know what it was like to be in my shoes—eighteen, pregnant and...” She rubbed her temples as if she had a headache. “I didn’t come here to argue with you. Go ahead and hate me. I don’t care.”
Will might have believed her if her voice hadn’t cracked.
“What matters now is doing what’s best for Ryan,” she said.
Damn, he admired her spunk. To his knowledge his mother had never stood up to any of his siblings’ fathers the way Marsha stood up to Will. Maybe the outcome of his confrontation with Henry Blythe would have been different if his mother had accompanied him to the door that afternoon.
“Do you want to meet your son or not?”
“Of course.” The words sounded sure, but deep down Will was terrified.
“When?”
“There’s a rodeo in Midway on Saturday. I told Porter I’d team rope with him. You and Ryan could meet us there.”
“What time?”
“One o’clock,” he said.
“Fine.”
“Are you going to tell Ryan about me before Saturday?”
“Yes.”
He’d like to be a fly on the wall during that conversation. “What have your parents got to say about all this?”
“I didn’t tell them you were Ryan’s father.”
Now he knew why the pastor had never shown up at the pecan farm with a shotgun, demanding he do right by his daughter.
“My mother suspected it was you a while ago.” The corner of her mouth curved upward. “Ryan looks like you.”
Her words barely registered with Will as he stared at her mouth. Blame it on his confused emotional state but right now all he wanted to do was taste Marsha’s kiss. Why he’d want to kiss the woman who’d betrayed him was a mystery, but there was no denying her presence was causing a spike in his testosterone levels.
“Are you okay?” She frowned.
“I’m fine.” Pull it together, man. “Your mother didn’t share her suspicions with your father?”
“No.”
He didn’t envy Marsha the task of breaking the news to the pastor—the man had never held the Cash family in high esteem. Working at the church next week would prove interesting.
When they walked to Marsha’s car, Will said, “In case no one told you...I work for Ben Wallace’s construction company and we’re—”
“I heard.” She opened the driver-side door. “I’m sorry if I came off... I didn’t mean to be...” She nibbled her lip. “I’m worried about my father.”
Unlike Will, Marsha had a good relationship with her parents and he sympathized with her having to deal with the pastor’s illness. “See you Saturday,” he said. Her car had no sooner disappeared from sight than all three of his brothers appeared at Will’s side.
“Well?” Conway said. “Are you positive you’re Ryan’s father?”
“Yes.”
“What are you going to do?” Porter asked.
“Marsha’s bringing him to the rodeo on Saturday.”
“Want me to tag along?” Buck asked.
“No, thanks.” The last thing he needed was to overwhelm Ryan with all his uncles. “Porter, we’re taking separate vehicles. I’ll meet you in Midway.”
“Whatever works best for you.” Porter nodded toward his truck. “Buck and I are heading into Yuma to grocery shop. You got any requests?”
Will shook his head. Once his brothers peeled out of the yard, Conway spoke. “You okay?”
“I don’t know the first thing about being a father.”
“I didn’t either,” Conway said.
“How’d you figure it out?”
“You learn as you go.”
That sounded risky.
“My advice is to not push yourself on Ryan. Let him call the shots.”
“Sounds easy enough.”
“It’s not. And as soon as you think you understand your kid, they do something that takes you by surprise.” Conway retreated to the barn, leaving Will alone with his misgivings.
* * *
“RYAN, LET’S TAKE a walk,” Marsha said after supper. Her father had retreated to the living room to nap in his recliner and her mother was pulling weeds in the garden.
“I don’t want to take a walk. I’m reading the Land of Varagon.” Ryan had gotten hooked on a new fantasy series after one of the kids in his after-school book club recommended it. There were twelve stories in the series and Ryan was reading number six. She’d kept track of the characters and plots through the fourth book, then things had become confusing and she’d given up.
“I need to talk to you. It’s important.” She waited by the door.
Ryan set his e-reader on the kitchen table and they walked through the garage then along the path that led to the church.
“How do you feel about meeting your father this summer?” When Ryan remained silent, she said, “You’ve never asked about him.”
“I didn’t ask, because I thought you didn’t want me to know who he was.”
Shocked, she put the brakes on. “Why would you think I wouldn’t want you to know who your father was?”
“You never talked about him and he never came to our house.” Ryan shrugged. “I thought he was a bad person.”
Dear God what had she done? “I’m sorry, Ryan. I assumed your silence meant you weren’t interested in getting to know him.” As soon as she said the words, a sharp pain struck her in the chest—guilt. How dare she lay the blame at Ryan’s feet when her reluctance to include Will in their lives had to do with her own insecurities and nothing to do with wanting to prevent Will from hurting Ryan.
“It’s not a big deal, Mom. Lots of kids in my school have only one parent.”
“Since we’re spending the entire summer with Grandpa and Grandma I thought you should know that your father lives in Stagecoach.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“How come he never wanted to see me when we came to Grandma and Grandpa’s?”
“Your father didn’t know you existed until recently.”
Her throat tightened as she envisioned the wary look on Will’s face when they’d met today. It was clear her decision to keep Ryan a secret had wounded him deeply. Then she reminded herself that over a decade had passed since she’d revealed her pregnancy to him and his reaction then had been very different.
“Why didn’t you want him to know about me?” Ryan asked.
“I didn’t think he was ready to be a father. We’d both just graduated from high school.”
“Does he want to meet me or are you forcing him to?”
“Of course he wants to meet you. He’d like for you and I to go
to a rodeo and watch him compete this Saturday.”
“I don’t like rodeos.”
“Since when?”
“Since Grandma and Grandpa took me to one when I was six.”
“I’d forgotten about that.” When Ryan had returned from the event all he’d told her was that it was too noisy and the place stunk like poop.
They arrived at the church and Ryan held the door open for her. They sat in the pew at the front of the sanctuary.
“Is he any good at rodeo?” Ryan asked.
“I don’t know. We’ll find out on Saturday.”
“Do I have to go?”
“Yes.” It would be easy to give in to him, but she held firm.
“Mom? What if I don’t like him?”
Marsha smiled—she’d always been drawn to Will’s brooding personality and good looks. He’d been the quintessential bad boy, the kid with a troubled past, and she’d been the sweet daughter of the local pastor who’d believed she could save him.
“Why are you smiling?” Ryan’s question ended her trip down memory lane.
“I bumped into your father in the school hallway once. All my books went flying.”
“Did he get mad?”
“No, he helped me pick them up.” Then the next day when they’d passed in the hall again she’d said “Hi” but Will had looked right through her.
“You’re weird, Mom.”
“I know.” She stared into Ryan’s blue eyes—the same blue as hers. His light brown hair and square jaw were all Will. A wavy lock fell across his forehead and she brushed it away even though he didn’t like her fussing over him. “Don’t mention meeting your dad to Grandpa.”
“Grandpa doesn’t know who my dad is?”
“No.” She’d taught Ryan from an early age to always tell the truth and she was ashamed that she hadn’t modeled the same behavior.
“What’s his name?”
“Will Cash.”
Ryan’s eyes grew round. “Is he Buck’s brother?”
“Will is Buck’s older brother.”
“Am I supposed to call him Dad?”
“That’s up to you.”
“Is he smart?”
Marsha winced. Ryan’s high IQ skewed the way he viewed the world and people. “I’ve told you before that not all intelligence comes from book learning.”
“Did he go to college?”
“I don’t know.” Marsha didn’t think Will had.
“What’s his job?”
“He’s a construction worker. As a matter of fact, he’s helping to build the new addition on Grandpa’s church.”
Ryan’s eyes widened. “I’m going to see him every day?”
“Probably, but he’ll be busy working.”
“I don’t have to help, do I?”
“I hope you’ll pitch in if your grandfather or father asks you to.” The conversation needed to end, before it spiraled downward. “You’re okay then with going to the rodeo?”
“If I have to.”
You have to.
As they walked to the house, Marsha wondered again if she was doing the right thing in bringing father and son together. Ryan was nothing like Will might envision for a son and Will was nothing like Ryan might envision for a father.
Chapter Three
“Ladies and gents, welcome to the thirty-fifth annual Midway Rodeo and Stock Show.”
Applause filled the outdoor arena that held two thousand people. From the corner of her eye Marsha observed Ryan soaking in the atmosphere. He’d been quiet since they’d arrived at the fairgrounds. He was nervous about meeting his father, but all she could do was offer her silent support and be there for him if he needed her.
“When’s he competing?” Ryan asked.
Marsha flipped through the program she’d purchased while the announcer droned on about the history of the rodeo and famous cowboys who’d claimed national titles. “Looks like your father and uncle are up after the barrel racing event.” She pointed to the rodeo workers setting out the barrels in the arena.
“Can I see the bulls before he rides?”
Ryan wasn’t into girls yet and she teased him. “Don’t you want to watch the cowgirls ride?” He rolled his eyes and she laughed. “Let’s look for the livestock pens.” She wasn’t surprised that Ryan found rodeo boring. He wasn’t into sports and his only competition experience came from chess-club matches.
As they approached the livestock pens, Marsha plugged her nose. “Whew, it stinks.”
“The bulls don’t look mean,” Ryan said.
“Maybe not now, but once the gate opens, they turn into ruthless bucking machines.”
“Rodeo’s stupid.”
Oh, boy. Will would not welcome hearing his son’s opinion of the sport. “It’s difficult to appreciate things you don’t have any experience in.”
“Where are the steers they use for team roping?”
She nodded to a barn. “Maybe in there.”
Quite a few cowboys had gathered outside the building but Will and Porter weren’t in the group. So as not to interfere with Will’s concentration, Marsha hadn’t planned on father and son meeting until after the Cash brothers competed. “Let’s buy a bag of popcorn.”
Ten minutes later they found their seats and the announcer’s voice boomed over the sound system. “Ladies and gents, we’re ready to kick off the team-roping event.”
A group of young women dressed in flashy Western clothes and wearing more makeup than a Mary Kay representative stood and cheered. Marsha whispered in Ryan’s ear. “Buckle bunnies.”
“Buckle what’s?”
Most teenage boys drooled over pretty girls in tight T-shirts and skinny jeans, but not Marsha’s son. Ryan would rather bury his head in a book than chase after the opposite sex. As a teacher she appreciated his thirst for knowledge, but as a mother she worried he was missing out on the best part of his youth—first crushes and first kisses. “Buckle bunnies are girls who travel the circuit cheering for the cowboys.”
“Do they cheer for my dad?”
Surprised Ryan had referred to Will as his father, she said, “I don’t know.” As Marsha studied the bunny in front of her—painted-on jeans, rhinestone belt and designer boots—a burning sensation exploded inside her chest. After more than a decade, she still found Will attractive and hated the idea of him being with an empty-headed beauty. She knew from experience that some men were intimidated by smart women, but she refused to play the role of a dumb blonde to land a date.
“Next up in the team-roping competition are the Cash brothers—Porter and Will.”
Ryan watched his father and uncle mount their horses in the boxes on both sides of the chute holding the steer. “Which one is he?”
Back to he again. “Will’s the heeler. He’s going to toss—”
“Yeah, I know. He ropes the steer’s rear legs after the header ropes the animal’s horns.”
Her son and the internet were best friends. Ryan must have researched team roping before they’d hit the road this morning.
“The Cash brothers need to beat the ten-second mark to take over first place,” the announcer said.
The fans quieted and the rodeo helpers readied the chute. Marsha’s eyes remained on Will. At thirty-two he might be one of the older cowboys in rodeo, but he looked sexier today than he had in high school. His crimson shirt hugged his muscular chest and the silver championship belt buckle showed off his lean hips. When other guys in their high-school class were losing their hair and sporting beer bellies, Will was all lean, hard muscle.
“They’ve got the barrier in place across the header’s box.” The announcer chuckled. “Don’t blink or you’ll miss all the action.”
Marsha held her breath when the
gate opened and the steer broke through the flag barrier and ran for freedom. Porter swung his rope twice before it sailed through the air and over the steer’s head. Porter turned the animal and Will roped the its hind legs on the first try.
“Well, folks, after adding in the penalty, it looks like the Cash brothers clocked in at thirteen seconds. Better luck next time, cowboys.”
“They’re not very good.” Ryan slouched in his seat.
Marsha felt the urge to defend Will—it wasn’t his fault that she’d put him in a position of having to impress a son he hadn’t known existed until a few days ago—but she held her tongue. Ryan rarely spoke harshly about others. Did he expect his father to find fault with him? Wanting to ease his anxiety she offered him an out. “We can drive home and meet your father later.”
“No.” He sat up straight. “Let’s find him.” Translation—let’s get this over with.
As they navigated the crowds, Marsha looked for a red shirt in the sea of Marlboro men. Ryan inched closer to her side and she wished she possessed a magic wand that could cast a spell on father and son, ensuring their first meeting was the stuff of fairy tales and happily-ever-afters.
“There he is.” The Cash brothers were conversing with a rodeo helper. Will glanced her way and she pasted a smile on her face as she and Ryan approached. If her gaze hadn’t drifted down his body she would have missed the way he tensed when he noticed Ryan.
Will’s brown eyes softened and Marsha’s knees went weak with relief. Father and son hadn’t exchanged a word but the warmth in Will’s gaze gave her hope that the meeting would go smoothly.
Will held out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Ryan.”
“Yes, sir.” Ryan barely squeezed Will’s hand before shoving his fingers inside the pocket of his khaki shorts.
“This is your uncle, Porter,” Will said.
Porter shook Ryan’s hand. “What do you think of the rodeo so far?”
Ryan shrugged.
“How would you like a tour of the cowboy ready area, Ryan?” Will asked.