Cowboy on Call

by Leigh Riker

  * * *

  “NICK, WE NEED to go home.” Olivia had told him at least twice to get his things together, and still he hadn’t moved. He and Sam were watching a marathon of some cartoon series on TV. Nick’s eyes were drooping, but he refused to give in to sleep or to Olivia’s reminders that it was getting late. Finally, she went outside to load the car herself.

  She was backing out of the SUV’s rear seat, having stowed Nick’s iPad and backpack there along with the light sweater she’d insisted he bring in case the night air carried a chill, when Sawyer appeared out of the darkness.

  “Olivia.”

  She turned, nearly bumping into his chest. The starlight had turned his hair the color of obsidian, deepened the blue of his eyes, chiseled his cheekbones and made her heart speed. She looked at his mouth, set in a straight line, unsmiling and hard, but all Olivia could think of was the heated softness of his lips on hers and Sawyer saying, I’m in love with you.

  She sought safety in small talk. “Tonight turned out well. It was good to see Blossom and Logan. Where did you guys go after dinner?”

  “Down to the barn. He tried to convince me I’m doing the wrong thing. I wish I could stay, Olivia. You know that, don’t you?”

  “No, this is what you have to do. And I have to think of Nick. Neither of us would benefit from waiting after you leave, hoping to see you again.”

  She had no doubt that, once Sawyer reached Kedar, he’d get caught up in the lives of the people he loved there, the surrogate family he’d adopted in place of Sam and Logan, the daily crises at his clinic. For an instant, she wanted to resent those other people. Yet they needed Sawyer and he obviously needed them.

  Olivia gazed up at him, standing so near, and in spite of her thoughts felt almost sheltered by his broad shoulders, his strength, as if that were something she and Nick could trust in, rely on, and that would be enough. In the time he’d been at the Circle H this summer, he’d built new muscle from hard work. Wasn’t he still, in part, a cowboy? She’d thought so before, but she guessed not, after all.

  “I’m glad you’ve been able to...restore your faith in yourself as a doctor—”

  He cut her off. “Doc and Ida are coming home tomorrow.”

  He didn’t say the rest, but he didn’t have to. He’d sought her out in the yard for a private goodbye. Her voice trembled. “I hope you find what you’re looking for, Sawyer.”

  “What?” he said. “To be forgiven for what I did? That’s not what Logan thinks I should do.” Without warning, he framed her face in his hands, and even knowing how futile this was, Olivia welcomed his warm touch. “I’m not sure, either—except that I have to do this first before I make any other decisions. Before I can—” He broke off.

  Decide about me? Olivia had already made her decision.

  Sawyer was a highly skilled, talented physician. Medicine was his calling, not helping to run the Circle H. He hadn’t forgotten those skills—watching him with the black colt had quelled any doubts she might have had about that—but how could she ask him to give up his practice, his passion?

  “The clinic is your...home now. I can almost see you driving down the road tomorrow morning, heading for Kansas City and the airport, reviewing case files from Kedar in your mind. That’s who you are, Sawyer. And I’m...Nick’s mother.”

  “A very good mother,” he said, still holding her face in his hands.

  Yet—she’d never had the thought before—was that enough for her? Olivia blinked back tears.

  From the nearby creek, just through the stand of cottonwood trees that had edged the wooden dance floor at Logan’s reception, she could hear crickets singing, the deep gulp of a bullfrog’s call, the faint rush of water flowing between its banks. The same creek that had overflowed, then flooded, trapping her with Nick at the ranch three years ago.

  Still, she’d had good times here. With Logan, their childhood friends...Sawyer. More good times recently with him and Nick, with the colt. What if, having made her choice, she never saw him again?

  “Olivia. You can be Nick’s mother and a woman at the same time.”

  She bristled. “I am a woman.” She didn’t need him to tell her that. “One with a business to run, a house that’s too small for us, a dozen issues at once, every day, but...what’s best for Nick is best for me, too.”

  “So you won’t even try. With us.”

  “I am trying,” she said. I’m trying to let you go.

  With a slight shake of his head, Sawyer drew her against his chest. If only she could trust him to come back, to be more than a temporary presence in her life...

  She didn’t get the chance to say so. He lowered his head and his mouth took hers in a long, slow, lazy kiss as if they had all the time in the world. Then the moment gradually changed, and grew, into something lush and splendid and loving, filled with need, and by the time they finally broke apart, she was aware of nothing but the way he felt against her. His hands on her shoulders now, gently kneading, caressing, the sound of his shaken breaths and hers in the stillness of the night.

  The crickets were silent now. The bullfrog had stopped croaking, but the creek still burbled along in its channel like another reminder, whispering of her past mistakes. When Sawyer kissed her once more, he spoke, the words hoarse, into her mouth. “Trust me, Olivia. Make a commitment. We can work out the details later. Trust in us—in yourself.”

  Oh, he tempted her. Until now, she’d focused solely on Olivia Wilson Antiques, the deal for Ted Anderson’s shop and, above all, Nick. She wouldn’t be a three-time loser, after her parents and Logan, with Sawyer.

  But still...what about her happiness? Maybe she needed more than to be the best single mother on the planet. Maybe she needed something for herself.

  She had the words on the tip of her tongue, had moved deeper into Sawyer’s arms to say them, to ask him to reconsider leaving before they could come to some agreement, when she heard a familiar chirp from his pocket.

  With a soft curse for the interruption, Sawyer pulled out his phone.

  By the light of its screen, she watched him read the message. In the dark all around them, she couldn’t see his face turn pale, but she could tell by his expression that it had. His hand shaking, he turned the phone for Olivia to see the shocking text.

  Possible cholera next village. Charlie.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  SAWYER HAD WATCHED Olivia reread Charlie’s text. Then she’d gone back to the house. She needed to take Nick home, she’d told him, her eyes downcast. It was late, and he didn’t disagree. He’d also run out of time.

  Sawyer didn’t think more discussion would do either of them any good at this point. Instead, remembering his talk with Logan, his brother calling him Tom for the first time in years, he went down to the barn again to see Cyclone. He stepped inside the stall.

  “Hey, boy. Doing great. By the time you’re ready for a saddle, you’ll be a star,” he said, keeping a close eye on the black colt. If he twitched a muscle on those powerful hindquarters, Sawyer would dance out of the way. He didn’t need to get kicked tonight. Olivia had already done that. “Sure wish I could take you with me...”

  The only horses that thrived in Kedar were the tough mountain ponies, bred through the ages from Mongol stock, with blocky bodies and short legs. Cyclone would stand out there like the proverbial sore thumb. The rocky ground would soon cripple him, ruin his elegant legs, and then Sawyer would be forced to put him down as he had Olivia’s horse.

  No, this had to be yet another goodbye. Until now, he hadn’t realized how hard that would be, and not only because he’d grown fond of the colt. In his weeks on the Circle H, he’d managed to slide back into his place here, to become a gradual part of the ranch and sense its heartbeat again deep inside him. Where did he truly belong?

  He heard footfalls and, hoping it
was Olivia, turned toward the stall door. Sam shuffled up to the bars and peeked in. “Talking to yourself?”

  “Horse whispering,” he said, stroking Cyclone’s sleek, dark neck. “I hate to leave him, Sam.” Hate to leave you, too. He patted the colt once more, the sound echoing through the barn. “I know you think I’m running off, and I wish I could be here to finish him properly for you. I know I promised. But I can’t.”

  Sam’s mouth set. “I won’t try to change your mind.” He half smiled. “I was kind of hoping Olivia would do that for me.”

  “Well, she won’t.” She didn’t even try, and he already missed her. Still, he respected her decision. Once she’d seen Charlie’s text, she must have known any argument for Sawyer to stay would be futile. Because how could he let his partner down—again? What a grim irony that he was letting other people down here in order to return to Kedar. “I probably won’t even see her before I leave.”

  Sawyer tilted his head, listening for the sound of her car, the crunch of gravel beneath her tires, but heard only the faint chirp of crickets and the throaty song of a lone frog by the creek. The chorus had started up again.

  “She’s having a hard time getting Nick to budge,” Sam said.

  A lump had lodged in Sawyer’s Adam’s apple. He already missed Nick, too. For a man who’d never thought much about having a family, who had destroyed someone else’s, he’d enjoyed being with Olivia’s son, seeing Nick recover from his fall, watching him ride and improve his skills, hearing his little boy giggles over some silly joke or a children’s TV show. He glanced at Sam. “Thought you and he were watching cartoons.”

  “I’ve already seen Curious George—with Nick, with you and Logan years ago...” He paused. “I figured you might be gone before I wake up tomorrow.”

  Sawyer straightened Cyclone’s forelock, then slipped out of his stall. His hand still felt warm from the colt’s flesh, the smooth ripple of muscle on his neck. In the aisle, he faced off with Sam, who seemed at a loss for words. There was no need to tell Sawyer again not to come back.

  He sighed. “You said what you had to. I never said you were wrong.”

  Sam cleared his throat. “I heard there’s more trouble over there.” Olivia must have told him about the cholera outbreak. “You sure you need to get into that? Seems to me when you came back this summer you’d had enough.”

  “The clinic is likely still in bad shape. I’ve been gone too long and now, because I left in the first place, Charlie’s burned out.”

  Why in hell did you run off? Logan had asked about Olivia. Now you’re racing off again. Sawyer had no choice, really, but his brother was right.

  He held Sam’s gaze. “All my life, I’ve given in to the urge to run away—from the pain of my parents’ deaths, losing Olivia to Logan...the landslide...” And what he’d done to Khalil. Maybe he’d never be able to atone for that, but the trip would be a first step. He had to try. “I even ran from Nick after his fall.” Olivia had rightly called him selfish then. “I’m done running.”

  Sam studied him, then shook his head. Sawyer thought that was the end of that, but Sam wasn’t through after all. “Guess I was pretty hard on you last time, huh?” He scanned Sawyer’s face and his sharp blue eyes softened. “God gave me two fine grandsons,” he said. “I don’t want to lose either of you. My boys.” Another pause. “But sounds like those people over there need you more than we do right now. I hope when all that’s done, you’ll see a way to come home, Sawyer.”

  “But you said—”

  “I’m an old man. Ashamed of myself. Shouldn’t have taken you leaving again for me to see I’ve treated you wrong.” He shifted from his good leg to the other, which had worn a cast not long ago. And Sawyer remembered him saying he wasn’t a quitter. “Before I’m done, I hope to see you on the Circle H again.”

  Sawyer surprised himself then. “I’ll try.” He pulled Sam into an awkward hug, the lump in his throat as big as a boulder. “Take care of yourself.”

  Sam hooked an arm around Sawyer’s neck. “You, too...son. Especially you. That’s how I see you, you know. ” He rested his forehead against Sawyer’s, and Sawyer thought of one way, at least in part, to atone right here, to Sam, too.

  He straightened. “I love you, Pops.” The term was one both he and Logan used to call Sam because he’d really been like a father to them just as Sam thought of him more as a son. It seemed to fit now. “But how wedded are you to this colt?”

  * * *

  OLIVIA WAITED BY her car for Sam to leave the barn. Then, watching him trudge up the slight rise to the ranch house, she took a deep breath. After reading Charlie’s message, she’d felt too stunned by the situation in Kedar—the reality of Sawyer leaving—to say a word. She couldn’t let him go without saying more.

  She entered the mostly silent barn. A single light glowed overhead, casting shadows everywhere, and in his stall Hero whickered a soft greeting. Sawyer met her halfway, his dark blue eyes like ebony in the dimness and looking surprisingly moist.

  “Did you and Sam make peace?” she asked.

  Sawyer didn’t quite answer. “I keep thinking. What if that was the last time I see Pops? He said he’s not getting any younger. His accident—his broken leg—set him back for a while. He’s not limping now, but if something else happens or he gets sick—”

  “He’s a tough old guy,” she said. “I’ll keep an eye on him for you.”

  Sawyer leaned against the nearest stall door. He crossed his arms over his chest and studied her. “You’re pretty tough yourself, Olivia Wilson.”

  “I’ve had to be—for Nick.”

  He sighed. “I wish things could be different. For us.”

  “So do I.” But he probably had his flight booked already. She could see in his eyes that Sawyer was already halfway out the door.

  “Before I go...” He straightened, squared his shoulders. “There’s something else I need you to know. About Kedar. I’ve already told you about Khalil, my mistake, but...”

  “Stop blaming yourself.”

  He shoved a hand through his dark hair. “You haven’t heard the rest, Olivia. I figure you have a right to know and tonight I need to get this off my chest.” He held her gaze. “That little boy—Nick’s age—wasn’t just a kid from the village, although I love all of them. I was more than close to his family, close to him.” He glanced away, then back again. “At times he seemed like my own...child.”

  Olivia had a bad feeling.

  “I was his godfather,” Sawyer said. “His parents entrusted him to me, and Khalil trailed me around like a shadow. We flew kites together, played ball...and played tricks on each other.” Sawyer faintly smiled at the memory. “He loved knock-knock jokes, especially his own, which never made sense but always made us laugh like crazy. He wore a ball cap I’d given him—the Kansas City Royals—until it literally fell apart. He was still wearing it, torn and crusted with dirt, when he was brought into the clinic after being dug from the rubble.”

  She could barely speak. The pain he must feel went much deeper than she’d imagined. “You did your best. I know you did.”

  “Not good enough.” He studied his crossed arms. “They believed in me—he believed in me. The last thing he said was ‘You can fix me.’ His parents weren’t there. I was holding him in my arms when he took his last breath.” She started to speak but he held up a hand. “Olivia, Khalil—my godson—he was Charlie’s boy.”

  “Oh. Dear God.” After that, she didn’t know what else to say, could say, except, “Come here,” but Sawyer didn’t move. When he sagged back against the stall door, she went to him and drew him close. He began to shake.

  Sawyer dropped his head against her shoulder and openly wept, which she had never seen him do even when his parents died, even when he’d euthanized Jasmine. Now she understood why he had to go back. “Surely they do
n’t blame you—Charlie and his wife.”

  His voice sounded thick, muffled by her shirt, as his warm tears soaked through it. “They should. Because of me, he isn’t there anymore.”

  “You’re being too hard on yourself,” she said, stroking his hair as she might do with Nick. After another moment, she tilted his head up, took his face in her hands and looked into his eyes. “I don’t blame you, Sawyer.”

  “No? What if it had been Nick?”

  She gently wiped a tear from Sawyer’s cheek. “I still wouldn’t.”

  “Not even if, after his fall, he’d...died because of me?”

  “No.” Olivia rubbed his back, up, then down again. Clearly, he didn’t believe her, and why should he? At first, she had blamed him for not speaking up about Nick. And all those years she’d spent holding a grudge about Jasmine.

  His dark lashes were spiked with tears and glistened in the low light, and Olivia faced a sudden truth she had tried to deny. She loved this man, loved him all the more because of the burden he still carried. How could she let him go? She could only pray that in Kedar he might find the salvation he so badly needed. That wasn’t up to her to give. “It’s going to be a hard journey,” she told him.

  Sawyer nodded, his gaze still on hers. He seemed to be asking for something she probably couldn’t give...until Olivia looked deeper into his troubled eyes, then angled her mouth to fit his and kissed him.

  Soft and warm, it started as a kiss of healing, of the forgiveness he couldn’t seem to find for himself. She’d thought they’d said goodbye before. But this might be their last moment, together, standing here outside a stall with Sawyer’s back against the rough wood boards, his body heating hers, his kiss changing, taking her deeper, then deeper still until she felt they were closer in a different way that wasn’t just physical.