The plot of this mystery kept thickening, just like a béarnaise sauce.
Chapter 5
“Nice truck,” she called over the top of her car. “Why haven’t I seen it at the ranch?”
Micah turned, looking pleased that she’d prolonged the conversation. “Adam’s letting me park it in the garage out by the barn. I like to keep it protected from the elements.”
Of course. But she didn’t know whether it bothered her or pleased her that Adam had procured a roommate for Old Blue without her consent.
While Micah unlocked his truck and nodded a goodbye, she dumped out the contents of her purse onto the hood of her car. As his truck purred to life, an image shoved its way into her mind. Micah standing behind Keely, the sun glinting off her pretty blond hair as he held his hands over hers, showing her how to angle a perfect heeler throw.
Finally finding her keys, she tossed her things back into her purse, then got into her car. Of course, she had ridiculed his suggestion that it was a bad idea for him to be alone with Keely, but now she realized he might have been right.
That was silly. And why should it matter to her anyway? She thrust the key into the ignition and twisted. Instead of the uneven rumble she was used to, her engine clanked like a slamming prison gate, followed by a bonus grinding noise.
No! She checked the clock on her dash. It was almost eight-thirty. How was she going to make it home, fill out that form, and still get to work by nine if her car wouldn’t start?
A bead of sweat broke out on her forehead as Micah’s truck went silent. His door opened, and the next thing she knew he was at her passenger-side window gesturing for her to pop the hood.
Letting out a long breath, she complied. Her heart bucked like a bronco. She’d done lots of small automotive fixes. Why did he assume she needed him to rescue her?
By the time she made it to the front of her car, he had braced the hood open. Irritation instantly gave way to intrigue at the sight of Mr. Cowboy Mechanic leaning under the hood of her car, like he did this sort of thing every day.
She was struck speechless for a moment, until the irritation wheedled its way back in. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
Fortunately, he seemed to ignore the drop of acid in her tone. “I grew up on a ranch, too. It comes in real handy to be able to fix your own equipment.”
“Well, I appreciate it, but I really don’t need your help,” she protested. “I’m fine.”
“You might be fine, but your car sure isn’t.” He went to his truck and grabbed a rag from the back, then returned and pulled out her dipstick. “How old is this engine?”
“Ancient. Why?”
“It looks like it’s leaking oil. You’re going to need to replace it soon.”
“The engine?” An image of all her hard-earned school money blowing away like leaves in the wind made her stomach turn.
He tossed her an offhand glance. “You on your way to work?”
Tension jitterbugged in her stomach. “I have to be there by nine.”
Standing up straight, he dropped the hood shut, then wiped his hands on the rag. “Come on. I’ll give you a lift.”
Her hand shot up like a stop sign. “Oh, no. I—”
“What?” He tapped back the brim of his hat so she could get a real good look at those eyes that were even bluer in the morning light. “You got a better offer?”
Her jaw firmed. “I just need to have Beau take her over to his repair shop...” She waved a hand in the general direction of Beau’s garage.
“You can do that later.” His manner lost its sardonic edge. “I don’t want you to be late for work.”
As he moved around to the passenger side of his truck, a low growl burned in her throat. If he thought she was going to just jump into his pickup like one of his gals, he had another think coming.
Resting one hand on the top of the door, he raised a brow and a semi smile. “Time’s wasting.”
She looked at her watch. He was right. If she stood any chance of making it to work on time, she had to accept his help. With a resigned sigh, she grabbed her bags from her car and plodded around to where he waited.
She climbed in, noting the grocery bag at her feet. Apparently, meeting with Keely hadn’t been the only errand he’d had in town.
He got in and started the engine. “You know, you really should consider buying a new car before you take off across the country.”
She gritted her teeth. Would it kill him to keep an opinion to himself? “Seattle isn’t across the country. It’s only two states away, and Idaho barely counts. Besides, I’m budgeted down to the dime. A new car will have to wait.”
“It’s up to you.” He backed the truck out of its spot. “You can keep putting money into that old heap of yours, or you can decide to save up for something reliable.” He gave her a sideways glance, then shifted and started them on their way. “You thirsty? I got a couple of root beers in there.” He tipped his head toward the grocery bag by her feet.
“Thanks.” She reached in, pulled out the sodas and noted the remaining items. “You planning on making something?”
“I have to cook dinner for the guys on Saturday.”
“Oh?” She opened one of the bottles and handed it to him, then reached into the bag and plucked out a beet. “What’s your plan for this?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I thought I’d see where my creativity takes me.”
She looked down at the other items. “You have macaroni, ketchup and rhubarb. You must have some really strong powers of creativity.”
He leveled her a sidelong glance. “You don’t think I can cook, do you?”
She shook her head and laughed. “No.”
He slammed a playful hand against his chest as though he’d been shot.
Still tittering, she checked out the activity along the main street of town. Danita Parker stood in front of her salon, admiring a banner she’d apparently just positioned in the window which read Go Micah.
Something between a grunt and a hoot surged from Janessa’s throat. This was her hometown. Why weren’t people putting up banners for her?
“You know,” she fired out, “for a guy who ‘could use a little dull,’ you’ve sure stirred up a lot of excitement around here.”
“Hey, you’re the one who challenged me, not the other way around.”
“It wasn’t a real challenge.” Taking a sip of root beer, she shook her head.
“Well—” he raised a speculative brow “—what do you want if you win?”
Fine. If she was going to ride all the way to Halston with him, she might as well play along. “If there was a contest, I would want...” She pondered. What kind of prize would actually motivate her to enter into a competition? The answer came out before she even realized she’d thought of it. “This fancy truck of yours.”
“My truck? Uh-uh.” He sputtered out a laugh. “I’ll tell you what, though. If you win, I’ll let you drive my truck.”
“Okay.” Getting into the spirit of it now, she wagged a finger at him. “You’d let me drive your truck until I could afford to buy a new car. I figure you’d owe me that much.”
“Oh, really?” He laced his tone with a playful wariness. “And what am I supposed to drive?”
She shrugged. “You could fix my car and drive it.”
He considered. “Okay, fine. If you outscore me, we’ll trade vehicles until you replace your car. But I get to have a look at your old truck and see if I can get it roadworthy. I’d rather be seen driving a vintage Chevy around town than something worthy of Fred Flintstone.”
In spite of his insulting her car, a surge of emotion fired through her. She’d dreamed of having Old Blue running ever since she was a little girl. She used to pretend to drive it while Daddy worked on whatever
car or tractor was parked next to it in the back garage.
She swallowed hard, rubbing her fingertips over the heart-shaped gem at her throat. “You think you could actually do that?”
“It’s worth taking a look.”
She studied him for a moment, letting the notion roll around in her head. When it settled, she was unclear whether she should take it as a bona fide offer.
“Okay, fair enough.” Looking ahead, she folded her arms. “If I won, I’d get to drive your truck to Seattle, and you’d get to drive my fixed-up old Chevy. And if you won—” she eyed him sideways “—what would you want?”
Mischievousness glinted in his eyes. “If I win...” He held out the word just long enough to worry her. “If I win, you have to stay in Thornton Springs.”
On a gust of breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, she blurted out, “What?”
He held up a hand. “Let me finish. You have to stay in Thornton Springs until you can afford to replace your car.”
She shook her head so firmly her neck cracked. “You can herd that idea right back into the chute, mister. I’m not putting off school for another whole year.”
He shrugged. “That’s the deal.”
She huffed at his overconfidence. Did he actually believe she might agree to that? “No way.”
“You don’t sound very confident in your ability to win.”
“I’m confident, Mr. Professional Rodeo Man. But you did saddle me with Owen. I hate to say it, but that’s kind of a handicap.”
“Have a little faith. With me training him, he’ll be roping with the best of them in no time. And from what I hear...” He tossed her a raised-brow look she found alarmingly alluring. “You’re one of the best around.”
A blush wrapped her neck like a hand-knitted muffler.
“I don’t know.” She shook herself. What was she saying? “No. For the last time, I’m not going to be in the rodeo this year.”
“All right.” His confident tone implied a lack of belief. “Suit yourself.”
She refolded her arms and looked straight ahead. What was it about this guy that made her feel as flimsy as an overcooked cannelloni?
* * *
Owen swung a lariat over his head and focused on the sawhorse Micah had fastened to the fence in the corral, angled so that its back legs sat a few inches off the ground. Drawing in a patient breath, Micah made a mental note to remind him that real cowboys didn’t need to stick their tongues out in order to heel a steer.
The loop bounced off the top of the wooden frame and landed in the dirt a good two feet from its target.
Owen’s shoulders drooped. “We might as well face it.” Reeling the line back in, he shook his head woefully. “I can’t even rope a sawhorse.”
“Well no, not with that attitude.” Micah moved next to him. “Do you want to impress Keely or don’t you?”
Owen’s chin dropped. “’Course I do.”
“Then do the drill.” He twirled his own rope over his head and tossed it, easily catching both hind legs in the loop. “It’s a confidence builder.” He walked over to reclaim his rope. “If you do it every day, you’re bound to improve. Then you’ll be ready to get on your horse and rope a real steer.”
Looking unconvinced, Owen coiled his rope. “So, what kinda time are we shooting for, anyway?”
“The world record for team roping is 3.3 seconds. We’ll be doing great if we get seven.”
“Seven seconds.” Owen gave a low whistle. “That’s hardly any time at all.”
“You’re talking to a bull rider, my friend. Where I come from, eight seconds is an eternity.”
Owen swung again, this time missing the sawhorse altogether.
Micah bit back the string of phrases his dad would have spewed out under similar circumstances. Instead, he uttered a more helpful, “You’ll get it, buddy. Just keep trying.”
In all honesty, Micah was starting to think he might not know how to help his friend overcome his lack of self-confidence. He could teach him the skills, but he had never seen anyone act so unsure of himself.
Giving it another try, Owen barely managed to land the loop under one of the wooden legs. “I don’t know,” he moaned.
“You’ve got to want it, my friend.” He put his hand on Owen’s shoulder. “Look, you’re a ranch hand, right? What happens when you need to rope a calf out on the range for ear tagging?”
Owen halfheartedly coiled the rope again as he followed Micah to the cooler by the fence. “Leonard generally lets me do the tagging. I’m real good with the animals, but my roping skills aren’t so great.” He looked down, rubbing the back of his neck. “I think he’s being nice to me on account of my rodeo incident.”
Micah gave Owen a long look. “What happened to you anyway?”
Owen darted him a glance, then tossed his rope on the ground and leaned over the cooler, snagging two bottles of water. Micah accepted the one he extended as Owen went on. “Well, I was twelve years old when I first realized the only way to impress Keely was to be in the rodeo. I worked up my nerve, and entered the goat-tying competition.” He took a long swig. “I figured I could ride Snowflake.”
Micah cocked an eyebrow. “Snowflake?”
“The horse my sister and I shared,” Owen explained. “My sister had taught her all kinds of tricks. I think what she’d really wanted was a dog.”
Micah chuckled.
“I never paid much attention to what she was teaching her because I thought it was kind of, you know, dumb. All I knew was she used different sounds, like whistles and things like that, as her cues for these tricks.”
Leaning against the fence, Micah took in a mouthful of water as Owen continued.
“The day of the competition, I was on Snowflake’s back ready for my turn. I looked out into the crowd, and I saw Keely with all the other kids, waiting for me to go. She gave me a sweet smile, and I thought I had it made. My plan was going to work.”
Micah nodded. “So, what happened?”
“Well, Snowflake ran out of the box just like we’d practiced, heading toward the goat. The crowd was cheering me on, and I felt like the king of the rodeo.”
Micah knew that feeling all too well. That moment when the adoration of the crowd defines you. Justifies your very existence. But in a split second, fate can bring it all to a crashing halt. He was familiar with that feeling, too. He caught himself. That particular flood of memories was best kept dammed up.
“Then—” Owen’s eyes got round “—something terrible and totally unexpected happened. We were almost to the center of the arena, when from somewhere up in the stands...someone...whistled.” His face grew dark at the memory.
Micah leaned in, riveted.
“Apparently, I should have given my sister more credit for her horse-training skills, because Snowflake stopped in her tracks and went down in this deep bow, which was the particular trick that the whistle was the signal for. You’d have thought I would’ve stopped, too, but no. I kept right on going.” He moved his bottle to simulate himself flying through the air. “From then on, everything moved in slow motion.”
Micah winced in empathy. He remembered that feeling, too.
“I flew right over Snowflake’s head, with the goat looking at me like he wanted to say, Hey, that’s not the way we practiced it. Then I saw Keely. Her hand went over her mouth and all I could hear was laughter. I’ll never forget that sound.” He paused, looking down. “The next thing I knew, I landed with a thud, sprawled out facedown in the dirt, and the whole crowd was laughing like they thought I was Jim Carrey. I swore I’d never compete in a rodeo again as long as I lived.”
Micah put a sympathetic hand on Owen’s shoulder. For a split second, he considered sharing his own story to let him know he understood. He stopped himself. What good would that
do? It wasn’t like he knew how to erase a painful memory. If he did, he probably wouldn’t be here himself right now.
Instead, he gave Owen’s shoulder a pat and uttered, “That’s rough.”
Owen shrugged. “I’ve learned to live with it.” He regarded Micah through slitted eyes. “So, has Janessa actually agreed to this thing yet?”
Micah shrugged. “I think she’s warming up to the idea.”
“She’s real good. I know you’re a professional and all, but she deserves a shot at winning.” Owen looked down, his eyes emanating pain. “I think maybe you should get one of the other guys to take my place. That would be more fair to Janessa.”
“Owen.” Micah jabbed a finger at him. “You’re the reason we’re doing this. Do you really want to see Jimmy or Liam riding off into the sunset with your girl?”
Owen kicked the dirt with the toe of his boot. “’Course not.”
“All right.” He bolstered up as much confidence as he could manage. “Then pick up that rope. You’ve got a date with a sawhorse.”
Looking like a teenager who’d just been told to take out the trash, Owen retrieved his rope, shoved his empty bottle at Micah, and walked back to his throwing position.
Micah shook his head. What exactly had he gotten himself into?
Chapter 6
Janessa sat on the front steps of her house, eyes fixed out where their long drive met the highway. Since her car was at the repair shop, Andra had offered to give her a lift.
She gave in to a yawn.
Practically every minute of the past two days not spent working at the restaurant or teaching had been dedicated to helping Andra prepare the food and decor for tonight’s movie premiere. Janessa had intentionally shoved all thoughts of the rodeo to the back burner, but now, as she sat looking out across the peaceful stretch of pasture and the deep blue mountains beyond, that particular pot started to simmer, then boil. Micah was trying to sidetrack her from her plans, and she couldn’t let that happen.
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