Rodeo Father

by Mary Sullivan

  “No, Cindy, it’s my job.” It was a matter of pride that Rachel should pull her own weight.

  “Sit. Drink.” She handed Tori a smidgen of tea.

  Cindy grabbed the rake from Rachel, who hung on, and they grappled for it.

  “Oh, for God’s sake,” Rachel said. The two of them let go at the same time and ended up on their backsides in the garden.

  Tori pointed and giggled. “Funny!”

  Cindy picked up a handful of leaves Rachel had already raked together and tossed them at her daughter. Rachel threw a bunch back. Tori joined in, and it turned into a glorious free-for-all.

  They ended up lying on their backs on the grass staring at clouds scudding across a blue sky, spent from laughing hard.

  It brought back memories of when Rachel was small and Cindy still so young she used to sit on the floor and play with her daughter as though she were her friend instead of her mother. They’d loved dressing dolls together.

  “Is the baby okay?” Cindy asked.

  Lazily, Rachel nodded. “She’s fine. I’m pregnant, not sick.” Even so, she reached out and squeezed her mother’s hand. It was nice for Cindy to actually be motherly.

  Cindy stood and picked up the rake. “Even if I don’t agree with all the work you put into this, I’m not the Wicked Witch of the West, you know.”

  Rachel sat up and took a sip of tea. She hid a smile behind her plastic cup. Yeah, some days Mom was the Wicked Witch of the West, but not today, and it was nice to work beside her in harmony.

  After Rachel finished her drink, she carried two bags of yard waste out to the curb for pickup in the morning.

  The Victorian caught her eye, as it always did.

  The house with its cockeyed periwinkle-blue shutters, gap-toothed white gingerbread scrollwork and wraparound veranda basked in the Montana sunshine like a forgotten wedding cake.

  Overdone and civilized amid the simple wild splendor of the valley in the shadow of the distant Tendoy Mountains, it was a house only a lonely girl would fantasize about. Rachel loved every overly decorated inch of it.

  Her phone rang. She pulled it out of her pocket.

  “Hey, Rachel.” Nadine’s voice drifted over the airwaves.

  “Nadine, what’s up?”

  “I investigated him just like you asked me to.”

  “What? Who?”

  An exasperated sigh filled the line. “Travis Read.”

  Rachel had forgotten. In her disappointment on Friday, she had asked Nadine to dig up dirt. Now she regretted that rash decision.

  “You work quickly,” she told her friend.

  “With the internet, it’s a heck of a lot easier to find things than it used to be.”

  “What did you learn?” While she waited for Nadine’s response, Rachel held her breath. She liked Travis. She really liked him. She didn’t want dirt. She didn’t want to know his secrets.

  “Surprisingly, there isn’t that much to tell outside of the man being a wanderer. He sure does move around a lot, every year as far as I can tell. He’s had a lot of different addresses in the past ten years.”

  Rachel’s heart sank. She had been fathered by a drifter. Cindy’s dating life had been littered with them.

  After Rachel had been raised without a dad, she’d vowed to never do that to her kids. Then she’d fallen for a guy who had died too young through his own foolishness, and her children were left without a father after all.

  The only man she needed was one who was dependable, reliable and who would love Rodeo as much as she did. A man who wouldn’t mock her town as some of those drifters passing through had or who wouldn’t laugh at how hard she worked to get that old amusement park up and running again to save this town. She needed someone who would stick around.

  Not that it mattered. No man would be interested in her. She came with too much baggage even for the most dependable man.

  She had no one to lean on but herself.

  “Thanks, Nadine,” she murmured.

  “Anytime, hon. Take care of yourself. Remind me when you’re due?”

  “First week of December.”

  “Let’s get together before then.”

  “You bet.”

  She ended the call and sat on the porch step, shaken. Travis Read might be a decent guy, but he was a wanderer.

  She stared at the beautiful Victorian that had been a beacon of safety all of her life.

  He’d bought the house for his sister and nephews, not for himself. She’d known that but had assumed he would be staying there, too.

  She’d been a fool to let him get under her skin. She had also been a daydreaming fool to think that last night’s quiet, friendly conversation meant anything.

  Terrifically awful premature flickers of feeling had developed in her and kept her awake last night.

  She would have to guard her heart with a ruthless hand.

  Even aware of the differences in their situations, she had dreamed anyway, so unwisely.

  Already, she’d fallen far enough into a bad state of infatuation when nothing would ever be returned. Worse, the man would probably be moving on soon after his sister arrived.

  Rachel might be a daydreamer, but she was not her mother, falling for one dissatisfied wanderer after another.

  She pulled herself under control. No more dreaming. Face reality, Rachel. Accept it and live with it.

  At least there might be someone for Tori to play with in that house. After all, her children’s happiness was more important than hers. Just once, though, she would like a little something for herself.

  Rachel tugged on the hem of Davey’s old, fraying sweatshirt and stood. No self-pity, Rachel. It’s a waste of time.

  “Mommy, can we play in the leaves again?”

  Yep. Tori was more important. How could a woman possibly feel sorry for herself when she had an amazing child to spend time with? So what if Tori wasn’t a man who could offer support and warm arms, filling her with affection and sating her yearning body?

  That would have to wait until after she’d finished with the responsibilities she’d taken on with wide-open eyes.

  * * *

  ON SUNDAY MORNING, Travis headed into town for breakfast again.

  He wanted to get to know more of the townsfolk. He managed to snag a stool at the counter beside Cole Payette.

  They had a good conversation about everything ranging from ranching, to next year’s rodeo, to their favorite sports teams.

  Cole filled him in on plenty of details about Rodeo. Seemed like Travis had done well in choosing this town for Samantha.

  They chatted through breakfast, and Travis came away with a positive impression of Cole.

  Good. Travis just might need the man on his side if Manny D’Onofrio ever found out where Samantha ended up. Not that he would. Travis had been ultra-careful.

  Even so, Sammy’s former boss in Las Vegas was a man of means who fostered a dangerous loyalty in his more fanatical employees. Who knew what that might mean if Manny located Sammy?

  He filled Cole in on some of the details of Manny’s trial for embezzlement. Sammy, who’d worked briefly as an accountant for Manny, had blown the whistle on him and had testified in court. Manny held a grudge.

  Hence, Travis’s need to get Sammy settled out here in the back of beyond using her own name instead of her husband’s.

  As sheriff, Cole needed to know.

  After breakfast, Travis drove out to the big mall on the main highway to get pet supplies because the stores in town were closed on Sunday. Along with a flea collar, he also bought a plastic bowl and a cat brush to get the mats out of Ghost’s fur.

  Back home, he slowed to turn into his driveway.

  Rachel and Tori stood in theirs.

  Bef
ore he caught himself with his new resolve to stay aloof, he waved.

  The little one smiled and waved back, but Rachel offered only a brisk nod.

  He got out of the truck with his purchases and walked across the road.

  Rachel didn’t smile, didn’t wave, didn’t greet him with anything remotely akin to her normal goodwill.

  Something had changed this morning.

  “What’s that?” Tori pointed to the pet-store bag.

  Yesterday, he and Rachel had been friends. Last night, they’d spent precious moments sitting on his veranda in a state of harmony he’d never felt before.

  Friendship with a woman other than his sister had been as foreign in his life as carousel rides and boyhood dreams.

  Sure, he’d decided to keep his distance, but what had changed in Rachel since last night?

  An iceberg separated them. He didn’t have a clue why.

  He answered the child’s question. “A flea collar for Ghost.”

  “Look, Travis. I’m wearing my new boots.”

  “I can see that. They sure do look good on you.” Knowing how much her child’s happiness mattered to Rachel, he glanced at her. Once again, her gaze flitted away. No smile. No shared enjoyment of Tori’s joy in a flimsy pair of boots.

  Nothing. Nada.

  Awkwardness settled over him.

  She turned and directed her daughter into the trailer without saying goodbye.

  Travis shook his head, at sea.

  Only a couple of days after meeting the woman, he cared about the potential friendship that had seemed to be building between them.

  He walked to his own place, but stopped on the veranda to glance back.

  Sure, he’d recognized the danger in finding her so appealing, but he’d had it under control. He’d flat out just liked talking to her. That’s all. Just talking. Just relaxing with a friend.

  Now that was gone.

  The distance between their homes might be only a few yards, but the distance between their hearts was a whole universe long.

  Chapter Seven

  Throughout his first week on the ranch, Travis worked hard. He’d never been a slacker, but making a good impression on Udall and Uma seemed to be more important to him than with any other employer.

  He liked them. He liked the town.

  He wanted his family to fit in after he left.

  In return, he wanted to be respected, to be the kind of man his father had never been.

  It seemed that, at the ripe old age of thirty-seven, he was growing into himself and becoming his own man.

  All it had taken was his sister’s crisis for him to realize how fragile life was, and how fleeting peace could be.

  The first couple of days, all he did was chase down cattle hidden in the most remote, thorniest spots, riding through the roughest terrain on the ranch.

  “They always pick the worst spots to hunker down in,” he commented to Udall after they’d found yet another one grazing on the side of a small mountain. “That isn’t even the sweetest grass on the prairie.”

  “Ain’t that the truth? Don’t know why.” Udall turned his horse toward the hill. “Let’s get him.”

  Twenty minutes later, they’d routed the animal and trailed him back toward home.

  Day after day, Travis rode the Weber ranch, getting to know its contours, its beauties and its tough spots.

  When he was out on his own, he radioed one of the hands, Bill Young, with observations about broken fence lines and whatever else needed attention.

  Bill would come along later on an ATV, what most cowboys called a Japanese quarter horse, and mend as needed.

  In the evenings, even as he had a hasty dinner and stripped woodwork, he kept half an eye on the trailer across the road.

  Unsettled by his last encounter with Rachel, and her cool reaction to him, he had an urge to see her, to find out what had happened. What had he done to offend her?

  His chance came on Thursday night. Already tired of his own cooking, he headed into Honey’s Place for a beer and burger.

  He showered, shaved, donned fresh jeans and a clean shirt and headed back out.

  Rachel was at the bar filling an order.

  The place wasn’t as packed as it had been last Friday night, but a good crowd filled probably two-thirds of the tables.

  He searched for a table near where he’d sat with Cindy last week, hoping it would be in Rachel’s serving area.

  When she approached, he knew he’d hit the jackpot.

  She didn’t return his smile. He’d expected that.

  Until he sorted out what the problem was, he figured he’d get more of the same treatment. How to approach her, though?

  “Hey,” he said.

  “What can I get for you?” she asked. He guessed she had to be polite. He was a customer. She had no choice.

  He decided to test her. “Same order as last week.”

  “Okay,” she said and walked away with the unopened menu and no questions asked.

  She returned with a Corona.

  Fifteen minutes later, out came his dinner, a perfect replica of last week’s meal. She’d remembered. She was one hell of a good waitress.

  She set the burger and onion rings on the table in front of him without making eye contact.

  “Rachel,” he said.

  She added the plate of hot wings.

  “Rachel, please.”

  She put down his coleslaw and made to leave, but he grasped her wrist. He could feel a fine tremor beneath his palm.

  “Tell me what I did wrong.”

  “Nothing. Everything’s fine.”

  “It isn’t and we both know it. I just can’t figure what I did.”

  At last she looked at him. What he saw in her eyes puzzled him. She wasn’t angry, but hurt. He recognized more of that quiet acceptance of less that he’d seen when her car broke down.

  What did that attitude have to do with him?

  How was he asking her to expect less from him? He’d never offered her anything, so how could she expect little?

  “What did I do?”

  Her pulse beat rapidly against his fingers. “You did nothing wrong.”

  “Then what changed? On Saturday night, we were almost friends. On Sunday morning, you were treating me like an enemy.”

  “I wasn’t.” Her eyes flashed.

  “Okay. Maybe not that badly. But you were warm and friendly until then. Since then, you’ve been cold.”

  Talking so much, delving into problems, was out of character for him, but he wanted to know.

  His eyes dropped to her belly. The last thing he needed was a ready-made family. So maybe it was best that things were rough between them. Why did he care?

  The answer hit him in the solar plexus. He liked her. It wasn’t a case of wanting to take her to bed, though under different circumstances, he would sleep with her in a heartbeat.

  The important thing here was that he just plain liked her...and had enjoyed her high regard of him.

  It hurt that he’d lost her respect.

  If he couldn’t get it back, so be it, but he at least wanted to understand why.

  He squeezed her wrist gently, noting that she hadn’t pulled her hand away. She could have. He would have let go at the least resistance.

  “Tell me what happened.”

  She relented, eased that rigid backbone a fraction, and signaled to Honey she was sitting down for a minute.

  * * *

  RACHEL WASN’T A COWARD, but tonight she felt like one, for one simple reason. Embarrassment.

  She didn’t want to tell Travis that she’d spied on him.

  How was she supposed to explain that she didn’t want him to be a d
rifter when that fact shouldn’t affect her at all?

  She peeked at him. He watched her steadily.

  She counted herself a good judge of character, mainly because of the revolving door of Cindy’s love life. She’d learned a lot growing up in Cindy’s trailer, strictly by virtue of watching, listening and keeping her mouth shut.

  Beyond a shadow of a doubt, Travis was a good guy.

  Too bad he liked to move around.

  Again, that had nothing to do with her.

  First to break the silence, he said, “What’s up, Rachel?”

  She ran a fingernail along the seam of the wooden table. What could she say? I’m attracted to you? I like you? I’m pregnant and already a mother, but I want a relationship with you? And why shouldn’t you want to leave when you hear that?

  Might as well get this thing started. “I might have asked my friend Nadine at the newspaper to check you out.”

  “Check me out? Why?” A frown furrowed his brow. He wasn’t happy about this. If the tables were turned, she wouldn’t be, either.

  “You just seemed too perfect. I was angry that you’d bought the house. I wanted to find a reason to dislike you.”

  He perked up. “You thought I was perfect?”

  She sent him a lowering look. “Maybe. Anyway, that was last Friday. I forgot I’d asked her. I really didn’t want to spy. I was just upset that the house was sold to someone else.”

  “So? Why the cold shoulder?”

  “Nadine called on Sunday.”

  “And?” He moved his hand in a circular motion, urging her on.

  “And she said you never stay in the same place for more than a year.”

  He was silent for so long she wondered what he was thinking. She glanced up. He watched her without flinching, his expression shuttered.

  “Why would that make you angry?” When she didn’t respond, he continued, “Why would you be angry with a guy you’ve known only a week just because he might leave town next year?”

  She chose her words carefully. Crushes were for teenage girls, not grown women with children. It was too, too embarrassing to admit to Travis that she liked him, especially so quickly.