“Nice roping, cowgirl.”
A blush found her neck. Now who was sounding flirtatious?
Recoiling her rope, she walked back to where he stood. “I always loved seeing the people sitting at those perfect little tables, looking like they were having the time of their lives. I wanted to be a part of that.”
“So you decided to become a chef.”
She nodded. “I’d always come home from those trips wanting to learn to cook new things. Daddy loved seeing me so happy. That’s why I want to be a chef.”
An eyebrow quirked as he focused on twirling his lasso. “And you have to move to a city to do that?”
“I don’t know. There’s just something exciting about the idea of living in a city. The pace. The energy. The way people have more to talk about than heifer checks and ag stats. Besides, that dream made my daddy happy.”
That look of unwavering certainty that Janessa had found so galling just a few short days ago came over him. “You ever think maybe it wasn’t the details that made him happy?”
Something tugged in her gut. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, did you ever consider that maybe what pleased him was the idea of you doing something you loved? The dream could change, it was the result that he liked.”
Defensiveness swirled around her like the lasso he kept twirling, but before she could get a good enough grip to swing it around his know-it-all neck, she stopped. Maybe he was right.
Turning his attention back to the steer dummy, he swung and spoke again. “Sounds like your daddy was a real good man.”
She smiled sadly, her defensiveness subsiding. “The best. When he died, I just couldn’t help thinking, why him? We needed him so much. My mama worked so hard for all those years, just to become a widow at forty-two. It just didn’t seem fair.”
He nodded, his mouth rising in a slight smile. “Oh, I get it now.”
“Get what?”
“Why you’re so determined not to get married.”
The remark caught her off guard. A well-thought-out retort burbled up her throat, but all that made it out was a pathetic, “W...why?”
“You’re afraid that if you find somebody as great as your daddy, you’ll just lose him, too.”
Her head snapped up. “No. That’s not true...” Was it?
She jutted out her chin. This was supposed to be all about his deep, dark past. Why were they dredging up hers?
She let her rope drop, just to give her hands something to do by recoiling it. “Is that the way you feel? About your mama?”
He shook his head sadly. “I wouldn’t deserve someone like her.”
She looked away, not wanting to dwell on the implications of his last statement, then swung her rope again, fumbling for anything to change the subject. “What about your dad? Is he still around?”
He shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darkening. “Oh, yeah. He’s around.”
“You sound like you don’t know where he is.”
“I knew where he was when I left him. Honestly, I don’t really care.”
His words hung heavy like a curtain about to part, revealing the rest of his story. Now that she was close, she wasn’t so sure she wanted to know.
She proceeded with care. “Why did you leave?”
He shook his head. “It’s complicated. We’ve got a lot of water under the bridge, him and me.”
Realizing that this might be her only opportunity, she rustled up her nerve. “I read about your accident.”
He paused, then continued. “What’d you read?”
“Just that it happened. You had a bad round and got kicked by the bull.” She paused, feeling awkward at having said it. “They say it’s the most dangerous sport in the world. I guess that’s right, huh?”
His jaw firmed. “There’s more to it than they printed in the papers. It wasn’t just an accident.”
Her stomach pitched. “What do you mean?”
He looked off in the distance for a long moment, then tipped his head toward a hay bale a few feet away. They sat, and she heard him take in a long breath.
“We were at a rodeo in Amarillo. I won my first round, but my second round I didn’t do so well. I drew a Brahma bull named Easy who was having a better night than I was. He threw me on the second buck—all of me but my left hand, which got hung up in the rope. That happens sometimes.”
She gave a sympathetic nod.
“Trouble was, while the bullfighters were helping me get loose, Easy decided he had somewhere better to be. He took off, bent on severing the relationship between me and my arm. By some miracle, my hand got loose and I pumped my arms in the air to let the crowd know I was okay, but I realized right away I wasn’t.” He ran a hand down his arm. “I’ve sprained my shoulder lots of times, but this was different. Downright excruciating. The doctor told me it was broken and I figured I’d be out for a while. That’s a tough blow for a bull rider.”
She rolled in her lips. She’d never been a fan of that event for that very reason. It was so dangerous.
“Anyway, my dad was right there in the emergency room with me, and as soon as the doctor left, he started in on me about everything I had done wrong in the ring that night. He said how I had to ride the third round the next day. How I needed to ‘cowboy up’ and ‘be a man.’”
“But your shoulder was broken. How did he expect you to hang on?”
He shrugged. “‘A real man would work through the pain.’ I’d been hearing it for years. I didn’t expect any sympathy from him.” He paused. “Anyway, the stock contractors typically save their meanest bulls for the last day, so—no surprise—I drew Texas Tornado, a rank bull with a grudge against humanity. Normally, that wouldn’t worry me, but I wasn’t exactly at my best. And I guess you know how that went.”
“I read that you made it to the buzzer.” That was impressive. Most riders couldn’t claim that achievement on a rank bull, the toughest of the tough.
“I honestly don’t remember those eight seconds. I felt a little sick, on account of I was hanging on with my bad arm.” He patted his shoulder. “All I wanted was to get off and put some distance between me and Texas Tornado. The second I heard the buzzer, I jumped off. I felt both feet hit the ground, but something happened. My vision got foggy and I couldn’t move. I hesitated just long enough for him to decide to play El Toro with me.”
She bit her lower lip, not sure if she wanted to hear the rest.
He gave a long blink before going on. “I really don’t remember this part, but my dad showed it to me on the tape. So I could ‘learn from it.’ In those couple of seconds that I stood there wavering, I guess Texas Tornado saw me as an easy target. He charged, and tossed me in the air like a pitchfork full of hay.”
She pulled in a gasp.
“And he didn’t stop there. Maybe he wanted to take revenge on behalf of all his bullring ancestors, I don’t know, but he pretty much did a flamenco dance on my backbone before calling it a day.”
A hot tear pooled in her eye and she reached up to swipe it away. Reading about this had seemed less real. Now she just wanted to wrap her arms around him and tell him it was all going to be okay.
“The next thing I knew—” his voice had lowered to just above a whisper “—I woke up in the hospital with a fractured spine that was an inch short of killing me.”
“Oh, Micah.” She reached over, adapting her wished-for hug into an amicable touch to his upper arm. “That never would have happened if your dad hadn’t shamed you into riding with a broken shoulder.”
He nodded sadly. “If I hadn’t been trying to please him, I would have made a different decision. As it was, I thought I was invincible. But, I learned a lesson that day I’ll never forget.”
Pulling back her hand, she hugged herself to ward off the evening chill.
“That night in the hospital, I had an epiphany. Under the fog of the pain meds, years of Sunday school lessons came back to me. I realized I was doing it all on my own strength, getting too full of myself and taking the glory for my success.”
That caught her attention. She had to admit, she’d secretly planned to keep an eye out for him in the congregation on Sunday to see if he was a churchgoer.
He let out a jagged breath. “Once I checked out of rehab, I knew I couldn’t go back to the way things were. Trouble is, without the rodeo, I don’t even know who I am.”
She felt numb. They just sat for a minute, breathing in the scent of dust mingled with sweet hay, and staring out to where the sun had just dipped below the smoky blue mountains.
“So,” she said finally, “how did you wind up here?”
He kept his gaze distant, as if the answers to life’s hard questions might be spelled in the sea of waving yellow grass in front of them.
“I just headed toward Montana, because it was the only place I’d ever called home. At a truck stop in Wyoming, I overheard some guys talking about a ranch in Thornton Springs that was looking for a man. I figured that would at least keep me busy while I figured out what to do with my life. When I got here, it almost felt like going back to our little ranch in Havre. To the last time in my life when I really remembered being happy.”
The honesty of that admission felt painful in its intensity.
“And then I met you.” His gaze locked onto hers. “And you really got to me.”
“I got to you?” Her stomach fluttered. “What do you mean?”
“When you goaded me about the rodeo, I started to think maybe I could handle it this time. Maybe I could learn not to take credit for my skill. To give it to God and let Him work His will, just like my mom would have said. That’s why I signed us up for the rodeo. I thought it was for Owen and Keely, but now I realize it was mostly my chance to try to make amends with God.”
The blood drained from her face. She’d been right all along. This competition was about Micah, but not in the way she’d thought. It wasn’t that he was trying to show off. He was trying to prove something to himself.
Her earlier resolve fell away like dry flower petals. She’d been trying to tell him she couldn’t compete because of the school that apparently didn’t even want her. To force her own will on a situation that was beyond her control.
In that moment, she let go of the dream of attending Le Cordon, and it was okay. It had to be. She was giving it over to God, and clearly God had other plans. Micah needed her. She couldn’t let him down.
She bumped his knee with hers, then stood, taking a few steps and preparing her loop.
He looked up at her, his eyes questioning.
“So...” She swung her rope and gave him a taunting smile. “Are you going to just sit there, or are you going to teach me everything you know about roping?” She tossed the loop at him, making an easy catch around his shoulders, and pulled the rope taut.
Laughing, he allowed her to draw him to his feet. “Looks to me like you’ve mastered the basics.” He gave the rope a quick tug, reeling her in like a lake trout.
She let out a gasp as she collided with his firm chest.
Looking down at her, he dented that gorgeous dimple. “Now what do you say we get to some serious roping?”
Chapter 9
An interesting thing happened to Micah as the weeks went by. Thornton Springs started to feel like home.
Six mornings a week, he and Owen got up earlier than the other guys to do roping drills, slowly making headway on Owen’s skills. After a long day of hard but gratifying ranch work, they’d head out for more practice, usually with Keely and Janessa. After almost five weeks of training, Micah was pleased and impressed with all three of his pupils.
Even after all this time, he hadn’t quite figured Janessa out. Considering her initial objections to participating in the rodeo, she’d suddenly become surprisingly available for practice. He’d tried not to get his hopes up, but when they were together, they reminded him of Angela Bijou and Jeffrey Mark Caulfield in that movie they’d finally gone to with Owen and Keely, one night after a particularly productive practice. It was as though they had a total, inexplicable ease with each other.
Now, the night before the rodeo, as the two of them sat on the cow print seats of a booth at Moo, platonically eating ice cream, he tried to keep his focus on the conversation, which had naturally turned once again to the rodeo.
“You nervous about tomorrow?” He licked the last bit of rocky road from the bottom of his cone.
“More like excited. Owen’s gotten really consistent. It was a good idea you had for us to practice in front of the guys. I think that helped him get over his stage fright.”
“They’re pretty supportive. And they think the world of Owen.”
“They seem pretty fond of you, too.” She took a bite of bubblegum, which he had quickly figured out was her favorite ice cream. “I noticed they’ve pegged you with a nickname, Emeril.”
“I have you to thank for that. They think I’m a regular chef. I told them I got some mighty good training, better than any school could’ve given me.”
Her smile dimmed, and he was instantly sorry he’d said it. “I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s fine.” She held up a hand. “I’ve totally accepted that I’m not going to Le Cordon. Not this year, anyway. I can always try again next year, and in the meantime, at least I’ll be living in Seattle. I can get a restaurant job and start applying to community colleges.”
“I’m real sorry.” And he really was sorry. Sorry that she hadn’t gotten into her school, but even more so that she was leaving town anyway.
He shifted in his seat as reality kicked him in the side with a sharp spur. Janessa’s time here was almost up. Tomorrow, the rodeo would come and go, and the string of long evenings in the corral with her would have come to an end.
“It’s okay.” She smiled over at him. “It’s actually a relief in a way. Without the pressure of paying for such an expensive school, I’ve been able to ease up on my work schedule.”
“Oh, so that explains it.” He tried not to let on that a sadness had engulfed him.
“Explains what?”
“Why you suddenly had time to practice with us. Why you decided to compete in the rodeo after all.”
“Yes.” She smiled and blushed, an appealing combination. “I guess that explains it.”
If she had been any other woman, he would have taken her look to have an unspoken meaning. Janessa wasn’t really that kind of girl. If she wanted you to know how she felt about something, she pretty much told you. At least, that was what he’d observed. But part of him, the wannabe one-woman-kind-of-guy part of him, hoped he wasn’t entirely right about that.
He derailed that train of thought before it could reach the part of the track where the bridge between his manly ego and his ability to sell himself had been washed out. She was still planning on leaving. Any attraction she might have for him wasn’t enough to persuade her to revise that plan.
“So,” he said quietly. “You have a place lined up to live yet?”
She rolled those beautiful eyes. “Not exactly. Once I told Hana that we found out the apartment ad was a fake, she took about a week to accept it, then another week to readjust her thinking to a realistic price range. She’s still unemployed, so I think she’s shifted her focus to her job hunt. The only other place she’s found so far turned out to be a studio.”
“It’s not too late to change your plans.”
“I can’t back out of our agreement. Not when she’s done so much work on the apartment search.”
“I think your loyalties might be a little misguided.”
“Could be.” She consulted her watch. “Hey, if we’
re going to find my family before the parade starts, we’d better get a move on.”
A minute later, they stepped out to the sidewalk, which was bustling with folks jockeying for parade-viewing positions.
Janessa pointed across the street. “Mama said they set up their chairs in front of the feed store.”
As they started to walk, an unexpected wave of anxiety hit. He tried to sound casual. “So, you like parades?”
“I love them. I always get excited about the carnival, too.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the red paper strip he’d acquired earlier from Danita, who was giving discounts on haircuts with the purchase of ride tickets. “Because I’m going to need a little help getting these used up.”
She laughed that joyful laugh that he’d grown to relish. Over the past weeks, he’d found himself calculating ways to make her laugh whenever possible just so he could enjoy the sound.
They made their way toward the feed store, stopping several times to greet people they knew. Everyone in town seemed to recognize him now, and to call him by name. Even though rodeo mania had gripped Thornton Springs by the horns, most folks had started to treat him like he was just another resident of the town. He had to admit that he preferred that to the adoration.
Now it was really only the tourists, and the females wearing those buttons proclaiming their fan club affiliation, who still acted awkward around him. For the most part, Micah had come to feel something about this town that he hadn’t even known he wanted. He felt like he belonged there. He hadn’t really belonged in a place since he and his dad had left Havre.
“Hello, Janessa. Micah.” Pastor John and his wife Peggy waved with cotton-candy-sticky hands as they passed.
It warmed him to have a pastor greet him by name, not because he knew the danger of Micah’s occupation and figured he could use a talking-to about getting right with Jesus, but because he was a bona fide member of the congregation. That was one of the biggest surprises of all to Micah about this new life he’d found.
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