A Cowboy's Plan

by Mary Sullivan

  “I’m being real mean,” Janey said. “I’m making him eat food that won’t rot his teeth.”Janey’s sass set him off. He deserved it. She was feeding his son. He should have been on top of that.

  Liam sat opposite her, pouting.

  The table was covered with food. Janey had bought all of this? He should have thought of it himself. Damn. Of course, Liam needed more than candy and the box of crackers C.J., frazzled and frustrated, had grabbed from the cupboard that morning. Liam had been giving him a hard time because Gramps wasn’t there. C.J. needed patience. Why wasn’t he a better father when he tried so damn hard?

  What would happen if Marjorie found out that the major part of Liam’s diet these days was candy? It would prove to her exactly what he feared—that he had no right to try to be a father.

  “I want candy,” Liam whimpered.

  “No, Janey’s right.” It was tough to admit it when he wanted to tear a strip off her hide for making him look bad.

  He came close to Janey and whispered. “What are you doing?”

  “Making lunch?” She looked confused.

  “You trying to make me feel like a bad father?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Man, he hated when she got that wide-eyed look of puzzlement and innocence. It made her look too young and pretty. His attraction to her bothered him.

  “C.J.’s my son. What are you doing with him?”

  A frown formed between her eyebrows. “I’m just giving him lunch.”

  “That’s my job.” He felt aggressive and volatile and like such a damned failure as a parent.

  “He’s been eating too much candy,” she said, building up some steam of her own.

  “Who are you to criticize me?”

  “Now you’re being stu—” Her gaze shot to Liam. “Silly.”

  She ignored C.J. and sliced a banana for Liam, cutting away bruises, the way a good mother would.

  When Liam realized he wasn’t getting candy he settled down, the way an obedient kid would.

  They were a great pair—Janey and Liam. And then there was C.J.

  The banana smelled overly ripe. For no good reason, that bothered him, too.

  “How much did the groceries cost?” He might not have thought about lunch, but he could pay for his own kid’s food.

  “It’s okay. I didn’t mind buying it.”

  “How much was the food?” He enunciated like he was talking to a child.

  “Fifteen bucks and change.”

  The ring of the drawer of his big old cash register opening sounded loud.

  He grabbed a ten and a five and slammed the drawer closed.

  “Here.”

  She must have sensed he wasn’t fooling around and took it.

  “From now on, I’ll feed my own son.”

  “Fine.”

  C.J. studied the groceries on the table. “You got all of that for fifteen bucks?”

  “Yeah. I’m a good shopper.”

  Liam sipped hot chocolate, leaving a chocolate moustache on his upper lip.

  “You want lunch?” Janey asked C.J. She sounded reluctant, but good manners trumped peevishness.

  “Yeah, okay,” he said, trying not to sound as childish as she did. “I’m going to get a mug of hot chocolate. Want some?”

  Janey nodded.

  C.J. returned to the store just as Calvin Hooks stepped in from outside.

  He’d left his fly half undone. His cardigan had a hole in one sleeve. Calvin was getting shabbier with age.

  “Hey, Calvin,” C.J. said. “What can I do for you?”

  “Sorry. Bad timing. ’Fraid I caught you at lunchtime.” Calvin looked over the spread of food on the small table. “Looks good.”

  Janey stood and motioned to her chair. “Would you like to join us?”

  “Don’t mind if I do.” Calvin sat in her chair.

  C.J. shot a glance at Janey, willing her to tell him what she was doing, but she ignored him. He stared at Calvin. The guy was staying for lunch?

  “We’re just having peanut butter and jelly on brown,” Janey said. “That okay with you?”

  “Sounds good.”

  She took a mug of chocolate from C.J. and placed it in front of Calvin.

  “C.J., you want one or two sandwiches?” She pulled a stack of bread out of the wrapper and started building sandwiches.

  “Two to start.”

  “Can you get that old chair from the back room?” she asked. “And a couple more plates?”

  C.J. did so, bemused. Janey was pretty well acting as though the store was hers. Why had she invited Hooks to stay? Calvin could have been served and on his way by now. Janey was…too generous.

  Still, the scene looked warm and inviting, and C.J. wanted to be part of it. He’d had no hand in making it, though, and maybe he didn’t deserve to sit at that table. He wasn’t winning any medals for father—or employer—of the year, was he?

  He rubbed his chest and joined them.

  Liam handed Calvin a strawberry from fingers coated with peanut butter and jam.

  He handed a square of melon to Janey. She ate it.

  C.J. squeezed his chair in between Janey and his son.

  Liam stared at the peanut butter on his fingers and stuck them into his mouth and sucked on them, then picked up a blueberry and handed it to C.J. C.J. didn’t remember Liam ever offering anything to him before now.

  He tried to take it from Liam with his fingers, but Liam said, “No. Me.”

  C.J. bent forward and opened his mouth. Liam slipped the berry into C.J.’s mouth, his tiny index finger touching C.J.’s bottom lip. C.J. chewed and swallowed while Liam watched his Adam’s apple move.

  So insanely sweet.

  His throat ached. Do it again. But Liam returned to drinking his chocolate.

  “Liam,” Janey said, her voice soft, “wipe your hands on your towel before you handle your daddy’s food. Okay?”

  Liam nodded.

  “I don’t mind,” C.J. whispered, because his throat threatened to close up on him.

  His determination to become a good father hardened into shellac in his chest. Someday, in some way, he’d finally get it right and Liam would treat him this way always, and the Janeys and Marjories of the world would never find another fault in him.

  Someday, Liam would be a true son to C.J.

  Janey put two sandwiches on his plate and he bit into one, but found it hard to swallow with all of the emotion of the moment clogging his throat.

  This was all so…strange. He didn’t know what to think of it.

  Calvin finished eating and stood. “Where should I put the dirty dishes?”

  “I’ll take care of them,” Janey answered. “Thank you for joining us.”

  “That was real good. See you, C.J.”

  He left the shop.

  “He didn’t buy any candies,” C.J. said.

  “I don’t think he came in for candy. I think he wanted to share our lunch.”

  “How do you know?”

  Janey smiled, sweetly. “He passed by the window four times.”

  C.J. stared at Janey. Who was she? A saint who gave to anyone in need? Or a touchy, sharp-mouthed Goth woman who’d started having sex too young?

  Man, he felt weird, itchy, unsettled. As though his world was changing but he didn’t know how, or how to make it stop so he could feel stable again.

  He needed stability for his son, too.

  The woman sitting on the other side of the table was the source of these weird feelings. That troubled him.

  Maybe it was time to get his dad to play matchmaker between C.J. and someone in his congregation, time to ask him to find C.J. a sober, mature, conservative woman who would make a good wife and full-time mother for Liam.

  That thought made him even itchier, made his future look like a life sentence of carrying a ball and chain around, without excitement or highs. Well, that’s what you want for Liam, isn’t it? Someone stable? Yeah, but what did that do for him? />
  Suck it up, C.J. We’ve been through this before. Do whatever you have to do to see Liam settled and safe. To hell with your needs.

  He shot to his feet and picked up dishes from the table and carried them to the washroom, where he rinsed them in the sink, slamming them against each other too hard. He left them there to drip-dry because he couldn’t find the towel.

  He remembered that Liam had it wrapped around his neck. He stepped out front again to get it. Janey and his son still sat in the front window limned by sunbeams and looked too, too good together and all he could see were his own inadequacies. If he sat with them again, that sunlight would shine on the missing pieces of his life.

  “Janey,” he barked, startling them both. “Lunchtime’s over.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  AFTER DINNER, Janey wandered out of the house, where she found that cowboys and ranchers from surrounding properties had shown up and were milling in the yard. She stood on the veranda and watched as another couple of pickup trucks circled in the driveway and parked. The excitement building in the yard infected her. Maybe she’d watch for a bit. It might make a change from the mood she’d picked up at work. TGIF.

  Man, she was tired.C.J. had been so weird all afternoon, short and brittle with her, as though she’d done something wrong, but all she’d done was feed his kid, as he should have been doing himself. Then she’d also fed a poor old guy who needed it. It’s not as if she broke the bank buying that food. She’d been as cheap as she could.

  “You can almost feel the leaves starting to turn, can’t you?” Amy stepped out of the house and stood beside her with Michael in her arms.

  “Yeah, the evenings are starting to cool down.” Janey leaned against the veranda post.

  “I’m going to see whether my foolish husband is riding broncs tonight.”

  C.J. drove into the yard and parked, then stepped out of the Jeep just as he shoved the last of a chocolate bar into his mouth. His square chin flexed while he chewed. Janey liked his strong jawline.

  Stop. Don’t go thinking about things you like about this guy. He’s been nothing but trouble for you anyway. Half the town thinks you want to bonk him or corrupt him somehow.

  Looking away, Janey walked to an empty spot at the corral fence. She tried to ignore C.J., but found that she heard every word he said, that he hovered on the edges of her vision like a guilty conscience.

  He lifted Liam out of the Jeep, who squealed when he saw Janey and wriggled to get out of his father’s arms, then made a beeline for her and threw his arms around her legs.

  How was she supposed to deal with this? The father didn’t want to have anything to do with her while the son was all over her.

  Looking up, she found Amy watching her. Amy handed baby Michael to Hank, then approached. She leaned in close to Janey.

  “Are you okay? You look pale.”

  Janey gestured toward Liam, leaning against her with his head pressed against her thigh.

  “It’s just hard. He likes me.”

  “No wonder,” Amy murmured.

  Janey smiled.

  “Those clothes and those boots will only protect you so much,” Amy said.

  “What do you mean?” Janey asked.

  Amy folded her arms on the top rail of the corral, facing a couple of broncs and a few men on the other side of the fence. “Someday you are going to have to put your fears and your grief to rest and participate in the world around you.”

  Janey shook her head, not wanting to understand, but fearing that she did.

  Amy turned to her. “A wise woman once taught me that with children it is today that matters. As adults, it is our job to rise above our own problems to nurture the children around us, to give them the fullest, richest experience of life, every day, no matter what the past held for us.” She rested one hand on Janey’s shoulder. “Or what the future might hold for them.”

  Janey stared across the corral, unseeing. “Whoever taught you that sounds really smart. Who was she?”

  “You. After Cheryl died.” With a sad smile, Amy squeezed her shoulder and walked away.

  Amy was right. Children deserved so much. Liam deserved more than she’d been giving him. Everything she’d done for him she’d done halfheartedly.

  Janey picked up Liam and sat him on the top rail facing her. He laughed and clapped his hands. Such a sunny boy. No matter what his mother had done to him, today, at this moment, he was happy to be here. How could she turn her back on that?

  She’d been planning to ignore C.J., but he approached her holding his beige cowboy hat, passing the brim from hand to hand. He was nervous?

  “Listen,” he said, “I’m sorry about being surly today. I shouldn’t have gotten mad at you for feeding Liam.”

  “Yeah,” she said, her tone hard. She wasn’t letting him off the hook too easily. “You weren’t very nice.”

  “I just—” He took his time settling the hat on his head, then watched her from under the brim, the shadow of it cloaking his eyes. “Sometimes I worry that I’m not up to the job of fatherhood. I haven’t known Liam for long. It was a shock to find out about him.”

  “You didn’t know him as a baby?”

  C.J. shook his head, obviously not wanting to share more than that.

  They stared at each other until Janey grew nervous. “Are you scared today?” she blurted. “Of the broncs?” Dumb, dumb questions.

  C.J.’s face flattened and she wished she could swallow back her words.

  He looked as though he was trying to figure out whether to give her a piece of his mind or to walk away. Then he sighed, “Yeah. A bit. Not in the way you think, though.”

  He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “Is it that obvious?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t think so. I just saw a little the other night.”

  She pretended a nonchalance she didn’t feel. There were so many questions she wanted to ask, starting with, “Why do you rodeo if it scares you?”

  “It doesn’t scare me.” He twisted the hat in his hands. “It excites me like it used to. Too much.”

  “Why is that a problem?”

  “I need to settle down, for Liam’s sake.”

  She understood it all now, the clothes, the crazy short hair, the forced…conservatism she felt in him sometimes. He thought these things would make him a good father. Poor guy was so far off base.

  “Why are you trying bronc busting again?”

  “I want to compete in Hank’s rodeo. I want to win.”

  “Why?”

  He opened his mouth to answer, but one of the ranch hands yelled, “Hey, C.J., get in here and try out this bronc.”

  He shrugged and said, “Gotta go.”

  As C.J. entered the corral, Janey turned Liam toward the inside of the corral so he could watch.

  “Your daddy’s going to ride a bronc.”

  “Bronc?”

  Janey had been wondering about Liam’s speech. He sounded so young. Cheryl had been a real chatterbox when she was Liam’s age. That is, before the cancer hit.

  Hank approached them. “Hey, kid,” Hank said, elbowing in beside her.

  One of the cowboys got up on a bronc named Twister. C.J. stood inside the corral watching. Janey watched him.

  Stop it. Think about something else besides C.J.

  “Hank, can I ask you something?” Janey said. “Even if it sounds stupid?”

  “Sure. Shoot.” He watched the bronc kicking in the corral.

  “Why don’t the broncs eventually give up fighting all of these riders and get tame like other horses?”

  Hank glanced at her. “These horses like to buck.”

  “Buck,” Liam whispered.

  Hank smiled. “It’s what they live for. Every so often, a horse is born who can’t be ridden, who just loves to buck.”

  Janey pointed to the bronc when he threw the cowboy. “Twister wants to buck?”

  “Uh-huh,” Hank responded.

  “Weird.”

&
nbsp; “Weird,” Liam murmured.

  “Rodeo gives Twister a chance to do it all he wants.”

  “Cool,” Janey said.

  “Cool,” Liam mumbled.

  She couldn’t drag her gaze away from C.J. He approached the center of the corral, his jaw square-cut with tension, his eyes trained on a bronc one of the ranch hands led out of the stable.

  “What horse is that?” she asked Hank.

  “Double Trouble.”

  Tall and lean, C.J. strode toward where the cowboy held Double’s reins. C.J. mounted, the cowboy let go, and all hell broke loose.

  In the year she’d lived here, Janey had never seen another horse that bucked so high and so hard. Unlike C.J.’s performance of the other night, there was no grace in this ride.

  C.J. flew from the bronc’s back, landing hard. Puffs of dirt flew up around him. Double Trouble ran to the other side of the corral. C.J. lay on the ground for a minute rubbing his hip.

  “He’s okay,” Hank leaned toward her and said.

  “Huh?” she asked.

  He stared at her hand on his arm, where her fist clutched a handful of his shirt.

  “Oh. Sorry.” She smoothed the fabric, then wrapped that arm around Liam.

  C.J. jumped up with a gleam in his eye and called out to another cowboy. “Hip, bring out another one.”

  He looked mad enough to spit, but Janey saw beneath the anger to a simmering excitement, to a determination to rise to the challenge.

  Why did she have to read this man so easily?

  “C.J.’s doing pretty well,” Hank said. “Considering.”

  “Considering what?”

  “I guess you wouldn’t know, would you? Four years ago, a bull gored C.J.’s best friend with one of his horns.”

  Janey’s mouth fell open. “Did the man die?”

  “The animal pierced Davey’s heart. He was dead by the time the medics carried him out of the arena.”

  “Oh,” Janey said, staring at C.J. preparing to ride another bronc. “Did C.J. stop riding then?”

  “C.J. never returned to the rodeo until now.” Hank lifted one boot onto the bottom rail of the fence. “He’s registered for the charity rodeo.”

  Had C.J. been there when the bull gored his friend? Had he watched the life drain out of him? It was horrific to think about. So what was so important to him that he had to return to it?