He settled it onto his head slowly, tamping it down with a hard tug, the grown man firmly back in place.
“Thank you, ma’am.” He might be disappointed in her pregnancy, but she’d given him a gift. His gratitude was sincere. He adjusted his expectations and left the carousel, his stride long and fierce.
He couldn’t get away fast enough, driving without a backward glance.
He didn’t believe in new beginnings. No matter where he went, he always ended up in the same old place.
Not so for his nephews. Travis wouldn’t let that happen to Jason and Colt. Damned if he would let them down. They deserved a good home, and he would create one for them here in Rodeo. They would get more out of childhood than he ever had.
Screw your head on right, Travis. Disappointment never killed a man. Get on with it.
With purpose compelling him forward, he put Rachel out of his mind and drove straight to the Double U, where he pulled up in front of a sprawling ranch house with cedar siding and red shutters framing wide windows.
No one answered the front door when he knocked.
He’d been here once before, the day he’d been hired, put in touch with the Webers by an acquaintance, a cowboy he respected and trusted.
That day, he’d taken a tour of the town and had known immediately it would work for Samantha and the boys.
He’d chosen a house for them, one that had been put on the market just a half hour before he stepped into the real estate office. The down payment had been a result of years of having nothing to spend his paycheck on but himself...and he didn’t need much.
A good, solid house. Needed some work, but it had been built well. A safe town. Meant to be.
Travis might not believe in good omens for himself, but he did for his only remaining family.
He ran his new boss, Udall Weber, to ground in the stable.
Udall shook hands with a firm grip. “Good to see you again. You get settled in all right?” A big man with a ruddy complexion, his skin had been ruined by years of hard work in the unforgiving elements.
“Not yet. Got an appointment in an hour to pick up the keys. Meantime, where can I put Dusty?”
“Last stall on the right. First, let’s saddle up for a quick tour of the ranch.”
“Glad to have one.”
“Take the weekend to get yourself organized. Monday will be soon enough to start work. We got fences that need mending before winter.”
Travis backed his horse out of the trailer. Dusty, a solid gray gelding he’d owned for a dozen years, had covered a lot of miles with him. His brief visits to get Sammy and the boys out of Vegas and settled in San Francisco seemed like a bad dream here on the stunning Montana prairie.
“Park your trailer behind the barn beside mine.” Udall pointed to a spot. “Don’t mind if you store it there for the winter till you get your place set up.”
“Thanks. Appreciate it.” His place never would be set up, not for permanently holding cattle.
His clothes were in a bag on the backseat of his pickup truck. His motorcycle rested in the bed. What else did he need?
Sammy’s voice rang in his head. You need a home, Travis. Put roots down somewhere and stay for longer than a year.
Nope.
“You meet anyone in town yet?” Udall asked, breaking into his thoughts.
A picture of whiskey-colored eyes and tawny hair flashed across his memory. “I stopped at the amusement park outside of town. Met a woman named Rachel.”
The corners of Udall’s mouth turned down. “Rachel McGuire.”
Travis frowned. “You don’t like her?”
“I like her fine. Lovely young woman. She’s got a rough road ahead, though. Husband’s dead and she’s pregnant, with another little one already at home.”
“Jeez, that’s tough.”
Wind knocked out of him, Travis had to admit he was one of the lucky ones. Sure, he had his problems, but that poor woman...what a future she had facing her.
His admiration grew. How she’d kept her good humor boggled his mind. Another kid at home as well as one on the way? Warning bells clanged. No matter how much he admired the woman, he’d be keeping his distance.
“What’s with the carousel? It’s great, but the rest of the place looks abandoned.”
“We got us a committee that’s reviving the park. They’ve set their sights on getting it up and running by next summer.”
“Think they can?” Considering what he’d seen today, Travis had his doubts.
“If anyone can, it would be Rachel and her gang.”
With a rough laugh, Udall strode away to saddle up, his denim jeans and shirt emphasizing his lean, hard frame.
Travis saddled Dusty, a chore he’d done thousands of times before. This was where he belonged, with horses and ranchers. Running his hand along the horse’s neck, he murmured, “You survive the trip okay, boy?”
He rode out with his new boss onto land as pretty as any he’d ever seen. He’d been raised in Arizona, a state with its own brand of stark beauty, but often arid. He liked the colors of Montana.
“Monday morning, we’ll get you out trailing,” Udall said. “One of the hands spotted a dozen cattle holed up in the gully at the south edge of the property.”
Travis followed him out onto the range.
“In his reference letter, Lester Green said you’re one of the best he’s ever seen at flushing cattle out of tough spots and bringing them home. Said you did real good up in Wyoming last fall.”
“Yeah. Lester was a good boss.” Travis loved trailing, one of his favorite jobs. “It’s late to be finishing up gathering cattle for the winter, isn’t it?”
“Yep. Had a couple of the hands out sick. Some kind of flu goin’ ’round.”
They spotted a sheep caught on a piece of damaged fence on the far side of a field of dormant alfalfa.
“You keep sheep?” Travis asked.
“My neighbor raises them and spins her own yarn.”
Together, they got the distressed animal off the fence, but not before it kicked Travis in his ribs.
He hissed.
“That hurt, I bet.” Udall said.
Travis rubbed the injury. “Part of the job.”
Udall set the animal loose on its own side of the fence. “I’ll come back with tools tomorrow and fix this.”
“Let me.”
Udall shot him a surprised look. “You sure? You only just got here.”
“I’m sure. Just spent too many days on the road. I’m itchy to get out on the land.”
Udall smiled approvingly. They mounted and rode on.
So darned glad to be back in the country, Travis breathed deeply of fresh air purer than anything he’d ever found in any city.
His worries fell away, leaving only the wind in his ears, the sun on the prairie and the warmth of the animal beneath him.
Chapter Two
Rachel McGuire rested her head against the inanimate pony’s unforgiving neck, unsure whether to laugh or have a good, hard cry.
What on earth had just happened to her poor battered heart?
The second she’d laid eyes on the new arrival, Travis Read, she’d been attracted to him.
What kind of man could melt her hardened heart with just a look from blazing blue eyes, the rustiest of smiles and so few words? And not just her heart, but also her pregnant body, waking it from a long slumber.
Could the timing possibly be worse?
What kind of poor, dumb fool was she for finding a man so attractive when she was more than seven months pregnant, and as big as that horse she’d heard shuffling in his trailer?
She’d wanted to flirt. But why would he ever be interested in her?
That smile? When he’
d ridden the carousel? Oh, sweet heavenly pumpkins, pure and utter joy.
She’d given him a simple ride on a carousel, and he’d smiled at her as though she’d hung the moon.
And all of that lovely warmth and admiration she’d basked in had come to a crashing halt when he’d seen her belly.
Of course she understood why. Totally got it.
But wouldn’t it be nice to be carefree and available to flirt with a man who’d found her attractive?
Suck it up, Rachel. This is the life you chose. Live it.
Rachel laughed at her lapse in common sense. “You so need to get over yourself, Rach.”
She put the finishing touches on the carousel, preparing it for the coming winter. An hour later, she tucked away her tools, along with her unreasonable attraction to the new man.
She drove into town and stopped at the used-clothing shop.
Her wardrobe was pretty slim pickings at the moment.
She found a glittery maternity top she could wear to work. If she took off the sequins and rearranged the beading, she could remake the top into her own style. Embroidery, sewing and knitting calmed her. That she could take a five-dollar top and make it personal filled her with pride.
At the market, she shopped for next week’s groceries. In the produce section, she found marked-down overripe bananas that would make an excellent bread.
She picked up fruits and vegetables on special and root vegetables in season.
A huge bag of lentils was on sale. Good source of protein. She bypassed the expensive sugary cereals and instant oatmeal to pick up a bag of rolled oats. By the time she finished, she had an economical, nourishing menu planned for the weekend and coming week for herself and her daughter.
Maybe I should get a small steak to share with Tori. Her mother was always on her case about eating meat for the baby, and Tori was a growing girl who needed protein.
She perused the packages, but the prices worried her. She picked up one minuscule steak, shuffling along the counter to see if there was a better deal, until she ran smack dab into a hard body.
She looked up.
Travis Read. Here. In the grocery store.
Good grief. Was her heart going to do somersaults every time she met him? Or bumped into him? Literally.
He grasped one of her upper arms to steady her, his big palm warm even through Davey’s thick old jacket.
“I’m sorry!” Her heart thumped at just the sight of him let alone the touch of those long fingers. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
Rachel’s skin seemed to constrict until it was a size too small for her body.
“No problem,” he said. “No harm done.”
The thick honey of his deep voice flowed along her nerves. Her pulse skittered a foolish teenage girl’s dance in her mature woman’s body.
Travis had a great mouth, finely shaped with a firm outline. How would his lips feel on hers? Would his kiss be more refined than Davey’s had been? Her husband’s kisses had been long on enthusiasm and short on finesse. She had a feeling Travis loved on a whole different level.
Get a grip, Rach.
“You okay?” Travis asked. He glanced down.
Too late, she remembered she’d opened her jacket when she’d entered the store. Her shirt wasn’t maternity and didn’t fit properly. Only the top three buttons were done up, and the bottom of the shirt splayed over her big belly.
Her nicer maternity jeans were hung up at home, waiting for her to put them on for work.
The pants she had on now, a pair she’d bought secondhand, were already worn out from her first pregnancy. The belly panel was stretched to the max, showing white flecks where the elastic had broken.
Good grief.
The silence went on too long. “You made it to the Double U?”
“Yeah. Made it there just fine.”
A dark shadow painted his strong jawline. He smelled of citrus. His body generated heat.
She stepped away.
Come down to earth, she scolded herself.
She dropped the one barely there steak she’d picked up onto her discounted vegetables and lentils. His basket held seven steaks. Seven!
Her economic situation had never embarrassed her in the past. Frustrated her? Oh, yeah. But caused her shame? No. It had merely been a fact of her life. It disconcerted her now, though.
Neither of them had said anything for a while. Their silence fell into truly awkward, uncomfortable territory.
“Don’t forget to add some vegetables,” she blurted.
Cripes, small talk had never stressed her out before. She could usually talk the paint off a barn door, yet here she stood with her mouth gone as dry as a popcorn fart.
Travis sidled away from her, hefting the basket with a rueful kick up of one side of his mouth. “Yeah, guess I’ll grab a few potatoes.”
“And greens.” Brilliant conversation, Rach.
He grimaced. “Maybe.”
She managed a reasonable facsimile of a grin. “Which means you won’t.”
His sweet fraction of a shy smile made a brief appearance.
He doffed his hat and left. “See you ’round town, Rachel.”
She watched him stride away.
The phrase salt of the earth came to mind. Travis Read would fit in well in Rodeo, maybe better than she did. After all, she wasn’t much of a cowgirl. She didn’t ride horses, and she didn’t live on a ranch.
She loved Montana, though, and loved her town with all of her heart. Rachel adored its basic, varied, salt-of-the-earth residents. She was working her fingers to the bone on next summer’s fair to keep the town alive and make it prosperous again.
Tamping down her wayward daydreams, she paid for her purchases.
At home, she poured a glass of OJ, taking it and an oatmeal muffin outside to soak up the rays of what might be one of the last good days of autumn.
She sat on the porch step—porch being a generous term for the slice of tilting wood and two steps hammered together under the front door of her mom’s trailer.
Sunlight flooding the valley reflected off the tarnished white wood siding of the Victorian across the road.
Rachel sighed. She missed Abigail Montgomery, her elderly friend. Her death, days after Davey’s, had been devastating. Worst time of her life.
She’d lost too much six months ago. Thoughts of her big, irrepressible Davey... Whew! Those could still bring her to her knees.
She wrapped her arms around herself and rocked. She missed him every night.
She’d already cried a river for him, and for Abigail, but she had a life to live and children to raise. She needed her good spirits to help shoulder her burdens.
Veering away from her grief before it brought on tears, she concentrated on the Victorian.
Her every-second-of-the-day dream about owning that house perked her up, rerouting her thoughts away from devastating memories.
To everyone else in Rodeo, the aging home looked like a run-down romantic anomaly in the Western landscape, but to Rachel it was perfect.
But then, romantic notions and daydreams had always been her downfall, hadn’t they?
Davey had never known about this particular dream. She’d wanted to surprise him with a fait accompli. Look, honey, I bought us a house.
Any day now it would be hers. She hadn’t heard even a whisper about whether Abigail’s British relatives were going to put it up for sale, but why wouldn’t they?
It was useless to them.
She’d scrimped and saved until she had just shy of five thousand dollars in change and small bills hidden in her closet.
Dumb spot to keep her money, but she and Davey had had a joint bank account. Had he known about this money, he would have siphoned off every
spare cent for his motorcycle passion...or for treating his friends to beer every Friday night...or for chewing through money like it was cereal.
Davey had had those great big hands that could love her with enthusiasm, but they were a pair of sieves where money was concerned.
She should roll the change and count the money soon and get it into the bank. Later. Right now she needed these moments of rest.
The pretty trills of a horned lark on Abigail’s land floated across to her on the late-October breeze.
No one else in town would want that house.
There was no way there would be a speck of competition. It needed work.
It would be hers. It could have been hers a lot sooner had she married someone more practical.
The heart has a mind of its own, Rach, and you just have to follow it.
I sure did, didn’t I?
Yes. She sure had, right back into the financial insecurity she’d grown up with.
She let out a sigh full of hot air and yearning.
The distant hum of an engine—a motorcycle—cut through her daydreaming. Her unreasonable heart lurched with thoughts of her late husband.
A big Harley shot down the old road toward her.
It wasn’t Davey, of course. Never again would her husband ride home with a shit-eating grin that would light up any cloudy day.
She scrubbed her hands over her arms and shivered despite the sunshine. Oh, Davey.
The bike came close, closer, and slowed down enough to initiate the turn into Abigail’s driveway. Who was it?
The noise disturbed the lark. Routed, he surged from his hiding spot, his distinctive yellow-and-black face catching the eye of a white cat crouching in the grasses along the side of the road. Ghost. Abigail’s cat shot out toward the songbird, right into the bike’s path. No!
Rachel stumbled to her feet. “Get back,” she yelled.
The biker swerved to avoid the cat, Ghost ran back into the tall grasses and the bike tipped over. The machine flew across the road, screeching and shooting sparks, leaving the rider bouncing and rolling along the shoulder in a plume of dust.
In the ensuing silence, dirt and stones fell on his still body.
Rodeo Father Page 2