Seeds of Tyrone Box Set

by Debbie McGowan

  “Are we still carpooling to Emporia next weekend?”

  “We can,” Chancey agreed. “Sound good, Dee?”

  He could tell Deidra was itching to get inside, but she managed to remember her manners, and kept herself from slipping through the screen door. She nodded.

  “Wonderful. I’ll email you the details, but I was thinking we’d leave around six a.m. on Saturday.” Dropping the arm that had never quite touched her daughter’s filthy shirt, Charlene said, “Oh, and just a little afterthought. I believe I heard on The Sitch that Kaylee is going to be at the rodeo?”

  “What the hell is ‘The Sitch’?”

  The door slammed hard. So much for those manners. Dee had disappeared into the house.

  “Just an entertainment show I catch in the mornings sometimes. They said that Kaylee was going to set up a free concert outside the arena grounds.” Charlene’s perfectly manicured eyebrows rose in surprise, as if Chancey were the one relaying this information to her and not the other way around.

  “It’ll be taken care of, Charlene. Don’t worry.”

  “Taken care of?” Charlene repeated. “What do you mean?”

  “I’ll make sure Kaylee isn’t there. I don’t want it to distract from our girls’ day.”

  She waved him off. “No, don’t do that. It could be a big plus, having Kaylee Starr there. Might get the Stills/Clearwater team noticed.”

  Chancey felt his hackles begin to rise. “Kaylee’s always been Dee’s mother. We don’t need to ride her fame now, especially when Dee and Quinn are so talented in their own right.”

  “Ride her fame? You misunderstand.”

  No, Chancey didn’t think so, and worse yet, Charlene’s daughter was standing right there, and he didn’t think Stills misunderstood either.

  “I just think all the attention Kaylee will bring is good for the rodeo. The girls could get noticed.”

  If they stood next to Kaylee Starr, she meant.

  <<< >>>

  What was normally a day of crackling excitement and nerves had turned into a clusterfuck for Chancey and Dee. They’d driven down to Emporia with the Stills women, as normal, and the events were being held in the same arena they always were. Even the faces of the competitors and their parents were familiar—but nothing was like it had been in years past.

  The president of the Kansas State Junior Rodeo Association proudly introduced Kaylee Starr to an arena so packed with fans that there were parents who had come to see their children participate who couldn’t even get a seat. A thousand cell phone cameras flashed as Kaylee stood and waved, beaming a smile that would put Charlene Stills’s 1,000-watt pageant special to shame.

  As people cheered, the president stood in the middle of the ring and motioned to Kaylee like she was a prize steer. Pin a blue ribbon on her backside, why doncha? Chancey suddenly felt like shouting Heifer! at the top of his lungs. Kaylee continued smiling and waving, blowing the occasional kiss.

  “Please rise while Ms. Starr performs our national anthem.”

  Dee was pressed up against Chancey’s arm, watching her mother, who had sung the national anthem at a hundred rodeos before this one. The act itself was nothing new. And Kaylee—who had brought her fiancé and ambushed them with the poor jackass man as they were unloading the Stills’s minivan—was the same old Kaylee she’d always been. It was just the glitz painted on her—the fame that swirled around her like a mini tornado—those things were new, and they’d gone straight to her swollen head.

  Oh, say can you see, by the dawn’s early light,

  What so proudly we hailed at the twilight’s last gleaming?

  Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the perilous fight,

  O’er the ramparts we watched, were so gallantly streaming?

  Dee silently mouthed along with the words, tears filling her eyes, her hand over her heart. Chancey’s own hand rested over his heart, and he tried to feel the beat underneath his palm, tried to calm his temper. But all he could think about was Kaylee shoving her fiancé in front of the both of them, how dark Dee’s face had grown, how she’d turned away… He was enraged at this arena full of people, the concert, the attention shining on Kaylee—attention she was siphoning away from children, some of them as young as five and nervous as mice even without all the clamour.

  Kaylee had barely got the last note of bra-a-a-a-a-ave out before the arena erupted in cheers. You’d have thought she was singing at the World Series and not the finals of the Kansas State Junior Rodeo. Kaylee bounced and clapped for herself.

  “Listen, listen!” the president tried to shout down the crowd. “Kaylee Starr and her band will be giving a free concert out in Clover Field which is right next to this arena—songs will be performed between events, so stay for the kids and then go out and see the performance!”

  Chapter Twenty-Two:

  The Storm Clouds in Her Eyes

  “Dee?”

  Stay for the kids then go out and see the performance.

  “No.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  For two hours, they’d driven home in dead silence. Each of them tried in their own way not to explode. Charlene’s knuckles had been white on the steering wheel, Stills had slept with her head against the window pane, Dee had gnawed on her dirty fingernails until she hit the quick and drew blood, and Chancey tried not to think. It was hard when he’d boiled with so many emotions he felt like he could have blown the windows out of the minivan. By the time Charlene dropped them off at home and they exchanged curt goodbyes, Chancey was ready for murder.

  Stay for the kids…

  “We need to talk,” he said as he followed Dee into the house.

  She stomped across the floor, oblivious to the bits of dried mud that went flying off her boots as she did.

  “OK,” she said, turning to him, raising her eyes. She was wearing her cowboy hat, hadn’t taken it off since the event. “Momma’s fiancé looks like an asshat.”

  Yep, that pretty much summed it up.

  “Language.”

  “You wanted me to talk.”

  “Yeah, I want you to talk about your 15.5 in barrels, Deidra. I want to talk to you about first place. And—”

  “Who cares?” she asked. “Stills and I screwed it all to crap.” And then her face twisted, frown lines forming at her mouth, ridges pushing up between her eyebrows. “I couldn’t concentrate with that damn music going on outside. And why was she playing during team roping anyway?!”

  “I don’t know, darlin’.” But he wanted to throttle Kaylee Starr for it.

  The phone rang, and Dee marched straight over, grabbed the receiver, and barked, “What?” over the line. He didn’t even have enough time to scold her for her phone manners because in an instant her eyes went wide and then filled with tears. Then almost as quickly, everything on her face went cold, and Chancey knew exactly who she was talking to.

  Almost in slow motion, Dee opened her hand, a finger at a time and the receiver fell from her grip, clattering to the floor. Chancey scooped it up, trying to catch Dee as she ran past, but boy could that girl fly. Maybe it was best to give her some time.

  “Hello?”

  His heart thudded his hatred as he waited for the voice he knew would be there. Kaylee with more Kaylee ‘apologies’. Instead, it was a male voice that greeted him.

  “Hello, is this Mr. Clearwater?”

  “It is.”

  “And that was Deidra, wasn’t it?”

  “Who the hell is this?”

  “Isaac.”

  The asshat fiancé and Kaylee’s new producer.

  “Look, Isaac, it’s been a long damn day, so unless this is an emergency of world-ending proportions, you’d best just hang up, and I’ll forget about you bothering me and my daughter in our home.”

  “I called to apologise.”

  “That right?”

  “That’s right.”

  “For what?” Chancey growled. “Th
at shit show today in Emporia? Your star performer emptying an arena and distracting the kids so they couldn’t do their best at finals?”

  “That, yes.”

  “Or maybe the whole sendin’ Kaylee around with a journalist to follow her every move. Get the ‘inside scoop’ from her family on her engagement? News flash, pal, neither Dee nor I give a fly restin’ on a swirl of shit’s ass who Kaylee marries. And you can quote me.”

  “Well, I’m sorry about that, too.”

  “Do you even love the bitch?” Chancey growled into the phone, not altogether sure who he was angry at anymore. Kaylee for being so goddamn selfish? This jerk for daring to call their home after what had happened that morning? Dee for only being thirteen and not having the skills to handle any of it? Or himself, for being the biggest pantywaist of them all—wanting to drink himself stupid, break glass, and scream until his throat was raw. “Do you even love the stupid, selfish bitch?”

  “I do,” Isaac said quietly. “And I’m sorry for that, too.”

  “Well, you’d better love her. Because otherwise the mess you’re gettin’ yourself into? Just ain’t worth it, buddy. Now what the hell do you want?”

  “I want Kaylee to get to see Dee ride.”

  “Kaylee had multiple opportunities today to see Dee ride. Rope and ride, even. Kaylee chose Kaylee, like she always does. So I can appreciate what you’re doin’—” Chancey took a long, slow, steadying breath. Damn he needed a cigarette. “I even, under normal circumstances, would shake your hand for it. But right now—right now I just need you and Kaylee to stop addin’ insult to injury and let Deidra heal a little.”

  Chancey sat for a long time afterwards, with the phone in his hands, the line dead, just thinking. Dee needed at least one parent who wasn’t going to push her aside for whatever selfish whim went through their brain. She needed structure and strength.

  Jesus.

  Fuck.

  <<< >>>

  “What are you saying?” Seamus asked, his expression at first hurt and then quickly closing off, all emotion hidden behind an unreadable mask. Chancey didn’t need to see it to know what the Irishman was thinking, though. Hurt, disappointment, probably a helluva lot of anger. They’d come so close to making plans to meet, and even though Seamus hadn’t come right out and said it, Chancey had the feeling a lot of concessions had been made on the grooms’ end to make sure the wedding took place during Dee’s fall break. “I know you only said you were considerin’ it. But what happened? Everyone is excited to meet you and Dee. You won’t find a more welcomin’ bunch.”

  “I know,” Chancey replied, taking what should have been a soothing drag off his cigarette. “I’m sorry.”

  “So you goin’ to tell me why?”

  “It’s…complicated.”

  “‘Someone giving you shit’ complicated?” A muscle twitched in Seamus’s jaw. The mask was slipping.

  “Definitely not that.”

  Seamus shrugged. “I don’t know what you expect me to say, Chance. If you told me it was somethin’ to do with Dee—”

  “It’s got something to do with Dee.”

  Seamus’s expression immediately softened. “What’s happened, then?”

  Chancey reached out and touched the laptop screen, his fingers pressing indents in the liquid crystal. God, he wanted to be close to this man, closer than he’d ever wanted to be with any other person.

  “I wanna be with you, Shay. I want to be with you so goddamn bad. You have no idea.”

  Seamus swallowed and opened his mouth to speak.

  “Then just be with him!”

  The shout tore through the hall, and Chancey startled as his daughter kicked his bedroom door. Heck of a kick too, if the sound of splintering wood was any indication.

  “Don’t use me as an excuse because you’re too chickenshitted to be with him!”

  Jesus, what a potty mouth.

  “Give me a minute,” he said absently, sliding off the end of the bed and marching to the door. He yanked it open to find Dee standing there, still wearing her cowboy hat from finals, glaring up at him from underneath it. Sure enough, she’d put a horrible hole in the door.

  “You eavesdropping out here, Deidra?”

  “What the hell does it matter?” she demanded hotly. “You’re in there telling lies about me.”

  “What lies?” he countered, quickly shutting the door so Seamus couldn’t hear them.

  Dee fell back against the wall, her arms folded across her chest, her glare like daggers.

  “Whatever stupid crap reason you’ve got for not going to Pennsylvania and being with Seamus, it’s not my fault!”

  Chancey stared at his daughter, her chin trembling.

  “You know about Seamus and…me?”

  “That you were boyfriends?” she spat. “Yes. God. That was like six episodes ago, Dad. I’m not an idiot.”

  But you are, Chancey Bo Clearwater.

  “And what do you think about it?”

  “What do I think about what?” She stamped her foot, the movement trivialised by the carpet absorbing the sound of her heel. “I think it’s crap we’re not going to Pennsylvania. I think it’s crap you keep breaking up with him. I think it’s crap you treat me like I’m a kid.”

  “I’m not treating you like a—”

  “Is Seamus your boyfriend right now?”

  He paused for a moment. “Yes.” He was quick to cut in, “But it doesn’t mean that what your mother and I had wasn’t real. When I was with her… I wasn’t pretending with her. I just—”

  “Oh my god.” Dee let her head fall back and the hat tilted down over her face, muffling her voice. “Why are you doing this to me?”

  “What am I doing to you, Dee?”

  “I don’t care about you and Momma! You guys were a disaster when you were together! She’s a disaster now that she’s apart from us!” Ripping the hat from her face she said. “I don’t care if you’re dating a man, Daddy! I just want… Argh!”

  With the speed of her mare, Dee ducked around him and charged into his bedroom.

  “Deidra!”

  She plopped down on the edge of his bed, looking from the webcam to the screen and back again.

  “Dee?”

  “Hi, Seamus,” she said with a frown. “You guys are acting like assholes.”

  Seamus raised a dark eyebrow and snorted on a chuckle.

  “That’s quite a mouth you’ve got on you, isn’t it, sweetheart?”

  “Don’t encourage her, Seamus,” Chancey said, following her into the room.

  “I’m just sayin’, she’d fit in nicely down at our local.”

  Dee continued to stare, drawing her knees up under her chin.

  “So you came to look at me, did you?” Seamus asked with a laugh.

  “I’m not the reason he doesn’t want to go to Pennsylvania, you know.”

  “Jesus, Deidra.” Chancey ran a hand through his hair and turned from the bed. How had he raised such a hard-headed daughter? “Yes, you are. Because I didn’t know you knew.”

  “You didn’t know she knew about us?” Seamus asked curiously. “I thought I’d told you.”

  “You said she’d written to you on Facebook, but…” He trailed off as memories returned of what they’d been doing when the conversation took place, and Chancey immediately shut up. “Dee needs some structure in her life.”

  “You having a boyfriend means I don’t have structure?” Dee asked. “Your back is to me, so I’m just telling you, Daddy, I’m rolling my eyes.”

  “Aye, she is too,” Seamus offered helpfully.

  “Structure means not bringing Seamus to perform a concert that totally blasts out my rodeo finals. And not telling me about him so you can get my reaction in the tabloids. Not not being with him,” she scoffed.

  “How did the rodeo go, by the way?” Seamus asked.

  “Well…I got first place in barrels,” Dee said slowly, and Chancey turned towards his daughter. She was leaning forward a little
, still hugging her knees. “I got my time down to 15.5, which is really good. It’s actually, like, my personal best.”

  “That’s grand, Dee. Well done. When you come up, will you show me? I’ve never seen barrel racing before.”

  She beamed, showing off her braces, and then flushed. “Y-yes.” Suddenly tossing a seriously snarky look at her father she said, “Are we still going?”

  “Of course.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three:

  Slow Skies

  “I’ll be taking Tess out, then,” Michael called from the hallway. The front door opened, and Seamus glanced over in time to see the dog’s slow-wagging tail disappear from view. The door closed again, a quiet swish and click now it was fixed and being treated with some respect.

  “He’s a good kid,” Seamus said to himself, turning his attention back to the TV. His laptop, open on the seat cushion beside him, displayed the booking details for his flight to JFK, and he was having second thoughts—not about going, nor about meeting up with Chancey and Dee. Horses, tame, wild or otherwise, couldn’t keep him from his brother’s wedding, with or without the added bonus of seeing Chance. The thought made his stomach roll and a feeling akin to a cold sweat rose from deep within, rushing over his face and up into his hair, making the follicles stand on end. God, he had it bad.

  And yet… Something didn’t sit right. There he was, all set to jet off to the States the next afternoon, leaving Michael behind to dog-sit and look after the house. No matter how many times Seamus reminded himself that Michael had made the offer, he still felt guilty, like he was rubbing Michael’s face in it—look at me, chasing after your dream and offloading my responsibilities onto you.

  “No. It won’t do.” Without another thought, Seamus shoved his feet into his shoes and was out the door, heading for The Village Inn, slowing only to send Michael a text message explaining where he’d gone.

  It was Wednesday quiz night, and as usual the place was heaving, the deep muffled voice of the quizmaster rumbling through a solitary speaker on a stand, every table occupied. They were in the middle of a tense round when Seamus arrived, which meant there was only the usual couple of fellas at the bar.