A Man's Heart

by Lori Copeland

  The kid reached and lifted her weight and settled her on the bull’s back. The animal was wide as a four-lane highway.

  Patrick’s face swam before her. “It’s not too late to back out.”

  “I’m not backing out—but I want everyone’s solemn oath that what happens here stays here.” All she needed was for Cruz to get wind of this. If the bull threw her, which undoubtedly it would, he would have a good laugh on her — if she survived, but if per chance she’d beat some of these guys’ records, then she’d have a good laugh on them.

  Patrick shook his head and pulled the bull rope up for her. “You can bet I won’t mention it. Cruz isn’t going to like this.”

  The bull was restless, heaving sides bumping against the stall. Jules glanced at anxious faces. “Gentlemen? Do I have your word that you won’t mention this to anyone?”

  Several men nodded, and then the hold-outs agreed.

  Jules tightened her grip on the cinch. “If you do, I’ll tell the sheriff that you’re gambling out here, not bull riding.”

  Grumbles broke out.

  “This is nuts. Get off that bull’s back. You’re going to get yourself killed.” A man spat a wad of tobacco.

  “You guys just keep silent about this and we’ll all be fine.” Taking a deep breath, she nodded. “Open the gate.”

  The gate swung wide and The Terminator shot out like a speeding freight. Jules’s teeth chattered and crumbled into tiny pieces. A bomb went off in her head. The taste of salty blood filled her mouth.

  The bull bucked, gyrated and twisted. She held tight, feeling her insides jar loose. A kidney dropped. Then her spleen hit her throat. She tried to let go of the rope but her hand was wound so tightly she was momentarily caught. She fought the animal and the cinch, trying to get loose. Up and down, back and forth, sideways. Finally the rope loosed and she jumped. When she hit the ground she landed on her right arm. She thought she heard the bone crack.

  She lay staring at the swirling clouds both in her head and in the sky. Men ran out and diverted the bull away from her prone body. Laughter broke out.

  “That’s right. Gloat,” she muttered, wondering how in the world she was going to explain broken front teeth and a shattered right arm to any sane person. Why couldn’t you have just played along?

  Patrick loomed above her, checking her for injuries. “Are you okay?”

  “Do I look okay?”

  “No, you look like—” He caught back salty language. “I better drive you over to the clinic.”

  Jules struggled to sit up. “I’m fine. Other than my arm, I don’t think I’ve broken anything but some teeth.”

  He shook his head. “I warned you.”

  “How long?”

  “Three seconds.”

  “Three!” She laid back, head reeling. “Man, it felt like hours.”

  Crawling out of the truck, Jules limped to the back door. Crystal turned when she entered the kitchen. Her expression fell when she noted Jules’s posture. “Holy cow.”

  “No. Bull, The Terminator to be exact.” She limped to a chair and eased into it. “You have to get me to the clinic. I think I broke my right arm, shattered two front teeth—” She paused, jutting two front teeth out like Shrek —”Are they broken or cracked?”

  Crystal moved closer to examine the injuries. “No — they all look intact.”

  “Oh, thank goodness.” Jules laid her head on the kitchen table. “I must have just broken my arm — and I jarred a kidney loose—and I think my spleen’s in my throat.”

  “What have you done?” Crystal wet a cloth and moved to help her.

  “I rode The Terminator.”

  “You didn’t!”

  “Not really. It rode me, but I was on top three seconds.”

  Her sister dabbed at bleeding spots on her face. “Why would you do anything so insane?”

  Jules only had the strength to lift one shoulder. “Right now, I’m asking myself the same thing. I realized that I had no control over my life and I thought — never mind.” She glanced up. “I don’t want Cruz to know anything about this.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because, Crystal. He thinks I’m ditsy enough. Please don’t tell him, and warn Adan not to mention a word of this.”

  “How will we explain your injuries?” Crystal gently eased her out of the chair. “And what about Patrick and the other men? They’ll tell.”

  “No they won’t, or I’ll tell on them.”

  “Tell what?”

  “I can’t tell.”

  Standing back, Crystal shook her head. “Your eye is turning black, you have cuts and bruises, your arm looks — sort of—limp. Everyone will know something happened.”

  “We’ll just say I took a fall.” And that was the honest truth. The Terminator was still King of the Hill; she’d grant him that title.

  “A fall.”

  “I took a hard fall. That’s our story, and we’re sticking to it.”

  The two sisters dropped the curious children by the Ramseys on the way to the clinic. It was after hours, but the doctor was working late.

  Jules’s right arm was severely sprained but not broken. She had no idea what she’d heard snap, but it wasn’t her bone. All of Jules’s teeth were intact, and the doctor assured her that the spleen and kidneys didn’t shift positions easily. In a day or two, other than being sore as an infected boil, she’d be back to normal.

  On the way back to the farm, Jules dozed through the mercy of pain pills. Every bone in her body screamed. How could she have been so naïve to think that she could ride that bull? Why was she so stubborn?

  And far more worrisome, why had she dared God to take her.

  It seemed that she was learning a lot of unflattering things about herself these days, knowledge that she didn’t necessarily want or like.

  Chapter 37

  The church hall glowed Sunday evening for an informal reception honoring Crystal’s magnanimous gift, which she insisted came directly from Lucille. The new Lucille Miller Recreation Hall and church kitchen would begin construction sometime late fall. Reverend Williams hosted the cake and punch affair after Sunday evening services.

  Jules spotted Cruz in the crowd. He had a date tonight, a girl she didn’t recognize. She looked young — years younger than Cruz, but she was about as pretty as they come. Pretty. Perky. Blonde. Clingy.

  Frowning, she dabbed a couple of spoonfuls of guacamole dip on her paper plate with her left hand. “Who’s the babe?”

  Adan slapped cheese and ham in a dish. “What babe?”

  “The girl Cruz is with.”

  “Oh, Melody.” He speared a tomato slice. “Eye candy, huh. She models for some magazine.” He focused on her shiner. And arm sling. “Who won?”

  “I took a hard fall.” Apparently the bull riders had kept their silence, not out of loyalty but fear that she’d rat them out to the sheriff.

  “Out of what? A plane?”

  “Something like that. Where’s the babe from?” “New York.” He stabbed a pickle with his fork. “She’s visiting her grandma in Pasco.”

  “How does Cruz know her?”

  “Hey, you’d have to ask him. I’m not my brother’s keeper — at least not his social life keeper.” With a wink, he wandered off.

  She was making small talk with one of the ladies in the congregation when Cruz approached the punch bowl.

  Jules stepped away from her conversation when she spotted Cruz. She’d been toying with a nutty plan all day — even nuttier than riding The Terminator. Did she dare make the overt move? Right now they were on pretty solid ground, no fights lately. If she followed her heart instead of common sense she’d turn the children over to Cruz and Adan tonight and be done with it, but nobody had ever accused her of being an Einstein. She knew Cruz would attend the church reception in honor of Crystal. The idea she’d toyed around with all week festered. True, the scheme had been used more than once in crucial situations, and failed, but if it bore fruit, she’d b
e way ahead of her feelings and his obstinacy. She casually joined him at the refreshment line. He still favored his ribs, but he was getting out more these days.

  Glancing up, he spotted her. He lifted an empty cup. “Want some punch?”

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  He focused on her injuries. “What hit you?”

  Her hand came up to touch the black and blue eye. “I took a fall.”

  “Parachute didn’t open? What about the arm?”

  She gave him an exaggerated grin. “Funny. I sprained my arm during the fall.”

  He dipped a couple of cups out of the bowl and handed her one. His gaze skimmed the large gathering. “The town’s real appreciative of Crystal and your gift.”

  “The money isn’t mine to give, but Crystal insists on putting the tithe in my name too.”

  “That’s a nice, sisterly thing to do.”

  It was very nice, and Jules didn’t know how to repay the generous and thoughtful gesture.

  Drawing a deep breath, she asked what she’d come to ask. “I … was wondering if you were free tomorrow night.”

  A dark brow lifted. “I guess so. Why?”

  “I’d like to talk to you in private. Would you have dinner with me?”

  Before he could deny the request, she added, “Nothing formal, just grab a sandwich at The Grille and discuss … the topic.”

  “What topic?”

  “What I want to discuss.”

  He considered the offer, and then said quietly, “What time?”

  “Around seven?”

  Lifting the cup, he took a swallow and then set the drink down. “Okay. Seven.”

  “Okay.”

  “Jules.”

  “Yes?”

  “I don’t know if I’ve thanked you properly for saving that field. You kept me from bankruptcy.”

  Color tinged her cheeks. “We’ll call it even, okay? You saved my life in the accident, I helped save a field. Doesn’t seem like a fair exchange, but I’m happy if you are.”

  He nodded. “Did you break anything?”

  “Break anything?”

  His gaze focused on the arm sling. “During the fall. You should be more careful. We’ve had about all the loss this community can stand.”

  She nodded. Did he know about the bull ride?

  “Look at me, Jules.”

  She raised her eyes. “I’m not kidding. No more crazy chances. We’ll get through Sophie and Pop’s death. Understand?”

  “Understood.”

  His tone softened. “You’ve hit a streak of bad luck. The truck accident and now a fall. You must not be living right.”

  She smiled. “Must not.”

  “Well — my date will think I deserted her. Tomorrow night?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  Releasing her breath, she melted into the crowd. Tomorrow night. Seven.

  She had an official date with Cruz.

  And whether he knew or simply guessed the nature of her injuries, he cared. That was enough to make her vow to be more careful.

  Chapter 38

  Nervous as a setting hen with a fox in the hen house. Tense as a ball of wire. Edgy as a cat watching a rat hole. Every simile Jules had ever heard raced through her mind as she dressed Monday night. She discarded a third blouse; neckline too low. She couldn’t dress provocatively. Cruz would hate that. She picked up a pink blouse, held it to her chest and studied the mirror. He liked her in pink.

  She tossed it aside and reached for the black one. Black. Classy. Made a statement without being overt. She studied her jeans. Should she wear a skirt? Something loose and feminine. She tossed it aside. He rarely saw her in a dress or skirt. Her intent would be too obvious. Casual. She had to keep this meeting casual and informative only.

  Crystal carried a sleeping Olivia to her bed, glancing in Jules’s room as she passed. Jules smiled.

  “Are you going out tonight?”

  “For a while. I’ll be back in an hour or so.”

  Grinning, Crystal paused. “Big date?”

  “Not really.” Jules picked up a new pair of silver loop earrings and inserted them in her lobes. “I’m meeting Cruz at The Grille.”

  “Cruz.” Crystal’s grin deepened into outright teasing.

  “Purely business.” Crystal might not view her objective as professional, but in truth it was.

  “Jules.”

  Jules turned to look at her. “Yes?”

  “Have a great time.”

  Her cheeks turned hot when she heard complete sincerity in her sister’s voice. “Thanks. When I’m with Cruz …”

  “You feel complete.”

  Nodding, Jules felt tears surface. She felt complete. How did Crystal know?

  Crystal continued down the hallway, and Jules finished dressing, wondering how all of a sudden Crystal had turned into a confidant.

  Few pickups sat around The Grille this evening. In this community, folks ate early and then went home to watch television. She spotted Cruz near the pool table talking to a friend. When the bell over the door tinkled he glanced up.

  Why hadn’t she worn the pink blouse? Black made her look staid — incapable of compromise.

  Finishing his conversation, Cruz walked to meet her. “What happened to the arm sling?”

  “I don’t need it. It was just a small sprain.” And she couldn’t try on clothes with her arm fastened to her side. She indicated the closest booth. “Want to sit here?”

  “Sure.” He hung his hat on the peg beside the booth, and then slid in the worn leather. She sat across from him.

  “Are you hungry?”

  “No.” She couldn’t force a bite down her throat. “Just coffee.”

  He motioned for two coffees and Nick nodded. Cruz’s gaze shifted back to hers. “What’s up?”

  She’d hoped to chat a bit, loosen the apprehension. It wasn’t every day she attempted something this … stupid? She brushed the worry aside and dove in.

  “Have you noticed how close Adan and Crystal have become lately?”

  He appeared to consider the question. “No. Why?”

  “Well, they are. They’re together a lot and at least two or three times a week he comes over to watch a movie with her and the kids.”

  “He likes movies.”

  “I’m thinking the relationship is more than one based on a mutual passion for movies.”

  “Adan and Crystal?” Cruz laughed.

  “Laugh if you want, but I think the relationship is getting serious.” If she blatantly pointed out the developing relationship he’d see the risk. Cruz loved those children and he wouldn’t hand them over easily, even though Adan was his brother.

  Leaning back in the booth, Cruz fixed on her. His irrepressibly good looks unnerved her. He was dressed in jeans and a white T-shirt, his hair still damp from a shower. He didn’t go near a gym, but his forearms were as large and powerful as any weight lifter. The light scent of cologne—or deodorant — filled her senses and strengthened her. When he sobered, she figured he’d caught her point.

  “What happens if Crystal and Adan get married and take the children?” she baited.

  “What happens? Our problems are solved. Sophie would like that. The kids would have a good home, and Adan would make a great father. You’ve seen how Crystal takes to Olivia and Ethan.”

  “And you’d want that?”

  “Want my sister’s kids to have a good home? Yes, I want that. Don’t you?”

  “I love those children too — and so do you.”

  “It isn’t as though Adan and Crystal would take them away. This is and always will be their home.”

  “Here isn’t Crystal’s home. She lives in Florida.”

  “But she was raised here.”

  “Yes, and Pop wasn’t her dad.”

  The bombshell momentarily halted the tense exchange.

  He frowned. “Come again?”

  “You heard me. Pop wasn’t Crystal’s father. That’s why he left Blue Bayou to m
e. Seems Mom’s fling with the seasonal worker resulted in Crystal.”

  “Good grief, Jules.”

  “I know.” The coffee arrived and she reached for the sugar shaker. “I was shocked, but Crystal’s okay with it. Apparently Mom told her—and it explains a lot of things. All the tension we lived under, the arguments, Pop always closer to me than Crystal.”

  Cruz picked up his cup and took a sip.

  Fishing in her purse, she removed a small box and extended it. “It’s Pop’s watch.”

  Emotion flickered across Cruz’s face. He carefully opened the box and stared at the pocket watch, tarnished with age. Silence fell between them. Finally, he cleared his throat. “Thanks. Your dad meant a lot to me. I’ll pass this on to my boy someday.”

  “You’re going to have boys?” They wouldn’t be hers.

  “Or my daughter.” He pocketed the watch and she returned to the prior subject.

  “The point I’m trying to make is, this isn’t Crystal’s home and she loves Florida. What if she and Adan marry and decide to give up potato farming?”

  He shook his head. “Adan would be miserable in Florida. Farming’s in his blood.”

  “Maybe, but a wife is very persuasive. Do you want Sophie’s kids living thousands of miles away?”

  “What can I do to prevent it? Adan’s his own man, and if what you say is true, I can’t stop him—wouldn’t try. He’s old enough to know his mind.”

  “There is another way.”

  “What? Find him another woman?” His teasing eyes met hers. Hers sobered.

  “What’s that look supposed to mean?”

  “It means there’s another way.” She drew a deep breath. “If … if we were to pick up where we left off years ago —”

  “Hold it.”

  She met his gaze. “Hear me out.”

  “Not if it leads to where I think you’re going.”

  “If we were to set our past aside — for the children’s sake and …” She was actually suggesting this to him? “… lay aside our differences and marry, we could raise the children together.”