Claiming the Maverick's Heart

by Holt,Debra

  “How early did you get here?”

  “I couldn’t sleep for some reason, so I made it here about the same time the sun was waking up. I figured you were sleeping in, so I got things done. Isn’t this your usual day for errands in town?”

  “Yes,” she managed, but the thought only made her head pound more.

  “If you’re not feeling well, I’d be happy to help out,” Chase offered. “I can go into town and take care of any errands you have planned for the ladies. Good thing I went with you last week—they know me, and I can help out today. You go to bed and get some rest; put some meds down you. Give me a list and let me do it.”

  Macy looked at him, surprised. Had he really volunteered to run her errands? True, he knew the ladies and had gone with her last week, but he’d do it on his own?

  “While you’re debating with yourself, I’m going to get the list I have for the hardware store. You get one together of the errands you have.” He pushed off his spot by the corral and headed into the barn.

  Try as she might to be angry with him, she admitted it would be a big help. And he’d volunteered on his own, so it wasn’t like she’d twisted his arm or anything. Maybe she could depend on him to help her out this time. The ladies wouldn’t have to wait on their supplies or meds—that was the most important thing and the reason she didn’t fight it. She tethered the horse she was working with and hurried to the house. Making a list, she met Trace back at his truck a few minutes later and handed him the notepaper.

  “It’s a shorter list this week, so that’s good. And if Elmo doesn’t have plums in yet, then Mrs. Finch will want a small basket of oranges.”

  Trace nodded as he glanced over the list, then folded it and stuck it in the chest pocket of his shirt. “I didn’t see anything on here for you. What about some medicine?”

  “I have the meds I need. I just have to take them.”

  “Then get on inside and do that. You have to be ready to party at Jeb and Clairee’s next weekend. I’ll be back later this evening to feed the horses, so don’t even think about that.” He climbed into his truck and gave her a smile and wink. “I’ve got it all covered. Don’t worry about anything. You’re off the clock today. You can count on me.”

  Macy stepped onto the porch and paused to watch the truck disappear down the road. You can count on me. A soft sigh escaped her as she realized for the first time how much she truly wished she could.

  Chapter 8

  “You are such a sweet young man to do this for Macy.” Mrs. Lewis followed Trace as he carried the bag of groceries into her kitchen and set it on the table. “I don’t know what I would do without Macy helping get the larger items for me once a week. I can’t carry them anymore. This arthritis won’t let me do the things I used to do.”

  “I can understand that.”

  “Now, what would a young man like you know about arthritis? You have a few years to go before that happens to you.”

  “A few bones broken and rebroken over the last several years have taken their toll, I’m afraid.”

  “Oh my. Well, you wait right here,” she said, and off she hustled down the hallway and into another room. It wasn’t long before she came back with a jar in her hand. She offered it to Trace.

  “This is a special-recipe rub that my ma and grandma both swore by, and it does seem to relieve the pain. You take this and use it and see if it won’t work for you, too.”

  “Thank you, ma’am. I’ll certainly do that. I’d better get on with my deliveries.”

  She followed him to the front door. “You tell Macy to slow down and take care. I’m afraid she does so much that she neglects her own self.”

  “Well, you know her—she can be a mite stubborn at times when people try to tell her what to do.”

  She laughed at that comment. “Reminds me of myself at times. Of course, my husband always knew how to get around me—usually with some sweet talk and presents. Maybe you ought to give that a try. We females always like being made to feel special or at least be reminded someone cares.” She added a wink as she finished.

  Pulling his hat onto his head, he gave the woman a broad smile and tucked the jar she had given him into the crook of his arm. “I’ll keep that advice in mind. You take care now.”

  Trace wasn’t so sure about Macy being all that receptive to sweet talk, particularly from him. But as he drove through town after completing all the errands on the list, something did come to mind. There was something he could do for her that would probably make her feel better, too. He made a U-turn. He had a few more stops to make before he returned to Macy’s door.

  After Trace left, Macy let the horse she’d been working with loose in the corral, then went inside and took some medicine. Then she changed into a comfy pair of blue flannel pajama bottoms and an oversized, well-worn T-shirt with pink and yellow butterflies. Finally, she settled on the couch in the den with her pillow and a quilt off her bed. She only meant to lie there for a spell and catch the noon news, but all she saw were the opening credits before her eyelids grew too heavy.

  The ringing of her cell phone woke her. She reached for it on the coffee table, rising a bit on the pillow and trying to focus her brain before she spoke. The caller spoke first.

  “Macy, are you there? It’s Laura Ellis. How are you feeling? I’ve worried about you ever since Trace told me you weren’t feeling well.”

  The words brought a slight smile to Macy. “Don’t worry about me. I’m feeling better already. I guess I needed to slow down and get a little rest. Did you get all the items you needed today?”

  “Oh my, yes,” the woman replied. “And that Trace Cartwright is such a sweet man. He saw how my porch swing was hanging lopsided—I couldn’t use it for such a long while now. But he went to the hardware store and then came back and fixed it good as new. I didn’t even say a word about it. He did it all on his own. I’m sitting in it right now while I talk to you.”

  Macy could hear the joy in the woman’s voice, and she felt a squeeze of warmth around her own heart. She had heard often enough how much the swing meant to Mrs. Ellis, because her husband had made it for her only a few months before he’d died. Trace had indeed done something very special for the woman.

  “Well, I wanted to check on you and thank you for sending Trace by here today. I’ll let you go now so you can get some more rest. You take good care of yourself, honey.”

  Macy put the phone back on the table and pulled the quilt around her again, plumping the pillow back into place under her head. It wasn’t long before her eyelids drooped and closed again.

  Something … a movement … a smell … something filtered into her sleep, and slowly Macy opened her eyes once more. The clock on the wall indicated she had been asleep for almost two hours. It was midafternoon. Trace came into view, carrying a tray. “I hated to wake you, but I also figured you hadn’t eaten anything.” He balanced the tray on one hand while he cleared a spot on the low table in front of her and then set it down. “I stopped at the grill and picked up a bowl of Ozelle’s vegetable beef soup and her grilled three-cheese sandwich. I remembered how you liked that when you had a bad day. I also picked up some green grapes and a little basket of those clementines you like. They’re in the crisper in the kitchen when you want them. You do still like those, right?”

  Macy sat up on the couch, one hand trying to smooth down the mussed hair, while the other brought the quilt up around her to cover her state of dress. Her makeup—probably smeared or missing altogether—would have to do. Being around Trace on a good day in her usual dress was difficult enough, but in her present weakened state and faded pajamas, she felt herself at a distinct disadvantage.

  She took in the tray with the food on it. He had not only thought to bring her the food; he had remembered all the items that made her feel better when she was ill. Macy didn’t know what to think. She did know she was grateful.

  “Yes, I still love those. I’m surprised you remembered. This is really thoughtful of you. You didn
’t need—”

  “Stop right there,” Trace interrupted. “Just say a simple, ‘Thank you, Trace,’ and leave it at that.” He fixed her with those warm green eyes, and she felt an old familiar stirring that was not as dead and buried as it should be. Its unexpected appearance brought her attention back to the food on the tray and kept it there. She didn’t know what to do with the revelation, and she certainly didn’t need him to see her confusion. What she really wanted was for him to leave before she made a complete fool of herself and followed her sudden yearning to bury herself against his strong shoulder and allow herself to savor how it used to make her feel so comforted.

  “Thank you, Trace. I’m sure I’ll feel better soon. I’ll finish this and then try to get some more sleep.” She took a bite of the sandwich, chewing but not really tasting much.

  “I’ll be going then. Don’t worry about the stock. I’ll take care of them and be back in the morning. There’s no harm in you sleeping in, so don’t push yourself.”

  Trace hesitated as though he wanted to say more but then thought better of it. The silence grew heavy. “I’m sure I’ll feel better after some rest and meds,” Macy repeated. “Thanks again for taking care of the errands and for the food. And for going an extra mile and helping Mrs. Ellis with her swing. She called and sang your praises to the rooftop. That swing is special, and it really means a lot to her that you took your time to work on it. I appreciate it, too.”

  “It wasn’t a big deal. It didn’t take very long at all. But if it made her happy—and you, too—then it was certainly worth it. Now, eat your food and get some more rest.”

  There wasn’t anything else left to say, but the look Macy caught a glimpse of made her breath catch in her chest. It was reminiscent of the looks he used to give her in the old days—when he still loved her. Macy refused to look again on those thoughts. It would be too painful, and her defenses were in a weakened state already.

  He strode across the room but stopped in the doorway. “Okay, take care, Macy. Call me if you need anything—no matter what time it might be. Promise?”

  “Promise.” She said it quickly and took another bite of the sandwich.

  Trace finally left her, his footsteps moving along the hallway to the door. Only when it had opened and closed behind him did she release the breath she’d been holding onto to steady her nerves.

  Later that evening, feeling more rested and enjoying a couple of the clementines that Trace had brought her, she allowed her mind to go back over the day and the things Trace had said and done. That opened up other memories. She thought she’d steeled herself sufficiently for getting through it, and she hoped one day it would come naturally and there would be no feeling one way or another. Sure. Her brain was listening and doing its best to make her heart listen, but her heart tap-danced on a thin rope every day she was around Trace. It seemed the more she tried to keep the memories locked away, the more they escaped—one by one. There were so many of them. Because there had been so many good times. She couldn’t ignore the simple truth.

  That moment when Trace Cartwright had finally noticed her was indelibly etched in her memory—it wouldn’t fade no matter how much time passed. If she closed her eyes, she could still smell the potent combination—hay, freshly churned black dirt in the rodeo arena, and an alluring masculine cologne. It had caught her senses and grabbed hold of something inside her middle, bringing her head around to find the source as she stood near the fencing of the arena. The annual Fourth of July rodeo was about to get underway, and she was waiting on her date to return with a cold drink from the concession stand. As she turned to follow the very pleasing scent, a pair of eyes, as green as any new grass she had ever seen, captured her own. She could have sworn her stomach dropped to her toes in that instant … much the same feeling as dropping from the top of the highest roller coaster at the fair.

  Macy hadn’t been able to drag her gaze away from his. He was tall and dressed in a western shirt that was just a shade darker than his eyes. The leather chaps he wore concealed long legs. The arena lights caught the huge silver belt buckle at his waist and bounced off the spurs attached to well-worn boots. He’d pushed his hat back on his head in a devil-may-care attitude, and he held a rope in his hands.

  Her mind registered the tall cowboy’s smile slowly widening as he returned her gaze with his own in a way that made her feel both utterly feminine and oddly vulnerable at the same time. She had never experienced anything like it before. Her chest tightened and she had to make an effort to breathe in a regular pattern. She should have turned away, but she couldn’t. What made things worse, it was plain he knew exactly what was going through her mind, and she could feel a hot flush moving upward along her neck and knew it would soon light up her cheeks.

  Macy had been frozen like a deer in the headlights as he moved toward her, advancing slowly yet purposefully, stopping with only a foot or so separating them and causing her to look up … way up … into eyes that had deepened into a rich emerald color framed by dark lashes that only heightened the gaze he held her with.

  “I’ve been looking for you.” His voice had poured over her like honey, cloaking her in its warmth, mesmerizing her.

  “Me?” The word popped out little more than a squeak, and she’d cringed inside with embarrassment. She was acting like a simpleminded schoolgirl instead of the freshly turned nineteen-year-old she was.

  “There you are! I was afraid I’d missed you.” Annie Cartwright had come running up at that point. She stopped beside the tall cowboy. “Thanks for giving her my message that I was running late, big brother. I can handle this now.”

  Macy’s brain began to function again. She knew Travis, the oldest brother, but had only had glimpses over the years of Trace, the black sheep brother … the devil-may-care, rodeoing middle sibling of the Cartwright trio. He hadn’t been around much when she and Annie were together, and the minute he’d graduated, he’d left town. She had crushed on him from afar but knew he’d never noticed her. But in that moment at the rodeo, her feelings had progressed with lightning speed to something far more than a crush.

  The moment had changed her life. Less than a year later, she’d had his ring on her finger and stood outside the local Baptist church, wedding dress over one arm and a Dear Jane letter in the other hand. From the top of the highest roller coaster hill to the bottom of its deepest plunge, that was the sum of their relationship. She hadn’t been enough to hold Trace’s heart—not then and not now. Not that she would even want to put herself through that heartbreak again. Right?

  But what if he’s changed? People deserved second chances sometimes. Did Trace? She kept replaying their conversation on the back porch … him telling her about his life away and what had finally brought him back home. Could he really have changed that much? Had God finally stepped in and brought him to where he belonged? While Annie and Travis had been regulars at Sunday services over the years, Trace had crossed the threshold of the church far less. Rodeoing on Saturday nights often kept him on the road on Sundays. Regular attendance in a house of worship wasn’t a mandate for believing in God. Had God finally shown Trace his pathway? If He had, then why now? Why not all those years ago when she was crying her heart out for that to happen? When she had prayed for a miracle? All in His own time. Gram had said those words to her on more than one occasion over the years, and they echoed in her heart now. Why now? Why was now the time for his return?

  Because I’m ready now. That thought came from nowhere and caught her attention. Her head started aching again.

  Macy turned over and fisted her pillow one more time. It had to be the meds and fever that were making her think about such confusing things. Trace would only bring heartbreak to any woman who was dumb enough to fall for him … again.

  Saturday afternoon in Cartwright’s Crossing, and things were unusually quiet in town. Seemed like everyone was heading to the church on the corner of Main and Hidalgo Streets. The parking lot was already full, and the overflow had sprea
d to nearby spaces along adjacent streets. Jeb and Clairee had invited almost the whole town to their festivities—celebrating fifty years of wedded bliss with a renewal of vows—and almost everyone was there. Macy climbed out of the passenger side of Annie’s small sedan, parked between two large, double-cab trucks a block away. The two hurried toward the stone church building. Once inside, she followed Annie down the aisle as they looked for seats. Annie caught Macy’s hand and pulled her into a pew that was midway toward the altar.

  “Excuse me,” Macy whispered as she stepped past a pair of men’s boots and glanced up, only to find herself face to face with Trace, seated next to his brother. He grinned, and her answering smile turned into a grimace as the heel of her sandal caught the top of his foot. Graceful as usual. Macy practically plopped into the space between Annie and Trace. She wished Annie would have taken the spot next to Trace, but she hadn’t. She was too engaged in conversation with the Franklin family seated in the pew ahead of them now to notice Macy’s discomfort. Travis’s attention was focused on the program they’d each received as they entered.

  Macy had only seen Trace a couple of times since the day she’d been sick. He’d come to the ranch, completed the chores needed, and then left. She’d tried to ignore the feeling akin to disappointment. Instead, she told herself the after-effects of her illness and the meds were making her emotional. Now she found herself sandwiched into the pew beside him, the closeness sending a definite heat into her body from his. The glance he slid her way told her that he was aware of it also. Her eyes went to the altar, and another memory hit her as the organ began playing.

  Ten years ago, this could have been the scene from their wedding. But the church where they had planned to begin their life together had become the place where it had all ended. A deep sadness suddenly filled Macy. Her mind played the what-if game. What if they had gotten married as planned? They might be seated in this pew with a couple or three children beside them. Kids. They almost certainly would have had the green eyes of their father and probably his irresistible smile. Her heart twisted inside her chest. The shadowed thought quickly evaporated when the warmth of Trace’s slightly calloused palm closed over hers. She looked up to find his eyes on her, and the shared emotion in their depths stunned her. But was it sadness or pity? Why did it feel right to be here with the man she’d never wanted to see again? What was happening?