No Ordinary Cowboy

by Mary Sullivan

  And, in that moment, Amy realized what she should have known from the start. Hank got the courage to bring these kids out to the ranch from his bottomless well of compassion. In spite of the pain he would feel when they left—or, heaven forbid, died—he wouldn’t deprive the kids of a chance at happiness. Love wasn’t about what you could get out of it, but what you put into it. And if you couldn’t give in to that love for fear of losing that person, then you had no right to love him. And you didn’t deserve love yourself.

  In that precise moment, she knew she would stop wasting what time she and Hank might have on this earth. She was going back to him. Today. She was going to lavish him with all the love, honor and respect she felt for him, because he deserved it. He had earned more than the world could possibly pay him back.

  And her fear? She would vanquish it. For Hank.

  Yes!

  She would give her love to Hank for the sheer joy of giving. Consequences be damned. Her joy bubbled up like Moët & Chandon champagne in the finest Lalique.

  She stood suddenly, surprising Janey.

  “What will you do now that Cheryl is gone?” Amy asked, pacing five short steps to the door and back, a seed of an idea taking form, elating her. “With the rest of your life?”

  Janey shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  Amy turned to her with a huge grin. “Ever thought of living in the country?”

  “I’ve never been to the country. But I want to see it. Yeah.”

  Amy took her hand and pulled her up from the bed, laughing. “Let’s go. Pack your things. I’m taking you to stay at the ranch until you figure out your next step in life.”

  “You mean it? Really?” But Janey didn’t wait for an answer. Pulling a knapsack out of the closet, she threw a few clothes into it, transformed before Amy’s eyes into a chattering young woman barely out of her teens.

  “Cheryl said the ranch was pretty. And that the horses were big. Oh, and Cheryl said the food was real good.”

  Amy couldn’t wait for Hannah to put a little meat on Janey’s bones.

  Wait for me, Hank. I’m coming home.

  ELATION FILLED AMY as she entered Ordinary, Montana—a town that, in her estimation, was anything but ordinary. Extraordinary was more like it.

  She’d missed this warm community while she was in Billings, this group of people so interested in the common good that the odd few who were bad tempered or mean were only a blip on the pretty horizon under the Big Sky.

  Amy knew she was back for good.

  “Come on,” she told Janey, who sat beside her in the passenger seat.

  She got out of the car and breathed the fresh air. How could she have ever known how attached she’d become to this small town? How could she have known that she wouldn’t miss the big city one bit?

  Angus Kinsey drove by in a blue pickup. He waved. “Was wondering when you’d get back,” he called. “Good to see you, Amy.”

  “You, too.”

  Bernice Whitlow swept the sidewalk in front of her beauty salon.

  “Bernice! Hi!” Amy called.

  “You’re back. Good. How is your mother? She still needs to come in for those highlights.”

  “I’ll make sure she does. How does tomorrow sound?”

  “Ten o’clock?”

  “We’ll be here.” Amy ran across the street to Sweet Talk.

  The first time she’d landed in this town, she’d been scared and depressed. Today, joy oozed through her pores, along with the courage she would need to love her man for the rest of her life.

  When she entered the shop, she turned a megawatt smile on C.J. The smile he returned looked a little dazed. She knew she should tone down her actions but she was too, too happy and wanted to shout it out to the world.

  “Hi,” he said. “Whole town’s been worried about you.”

  “No need to worry anymore. I’m here to stay.”

  “We all knew you’d come back.”

  “Yeah?” She replaced the dazzle in her smile with warmth. “It’s good to be back.”

  C.J. noticed Janey. “Hi,” he said, his tone gentle, as if he were talking to a deer he was afraid would startle and run.

  Janey’s face turned bright red, but she smiled and gave a small wave.

  C.J. leaned on the porcelain counter. “What can I get for you?”

  “I need twenty pounds of humbugs,” Amy said.

  “Twenty pounds?” he asked weakly.

  “Yep. They’re for my wedding.” C.J.’s head shot up. “Wedding?”

  “Don’t worry,” Amy said. “You’ll get an invitation. The whole town will.”

  “I’m real sorry, but I don’t have that many humbugs at the moment.”

  “That’s okay, as long as you can have them ready for my wedding day. I’ll let you know when.”

  He wrapped the humbugs he had in the display case.

  Amy stepped out of the store, her bag of candy heavy in her hand. “See you later.”

  A cow ambled down the middle of the road and Amy chuckled.

  Oh, yes, the whole town would see her later, forever and ever, amen. She was staying here for good, if she could convince her big cowboy to take her back. She sobered a little at that thought.

  “That was a cow,” Janey said. “Walking through town.”

  “Yep. That was a cow, all right, in beautiful downtown Ordinary.”

  She put the car into gear, and drove down Main Street with the air conditioner off and the windows wide-open, so she could experience Montana country air to the fullest.

  A cop in a neatly pressed uniform stepped out of the police station.

  She stuck her arm out the window, waved and shouted, “Woohoooooooo!”

  In her rearview mirror, his reflected image put his hands on his hips, shook his head and smiled.

  She shot out of town toward her destiny.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “IT’S SO PRETTY,” Janey said from the passenger seat.

  The ranch house stood steady and serene behind the weeping willow that had welcomed Amy here on her first day.

  Why had she worked so much harder for this ranch than she ever had for any other business?

  Because the ranch was unsinkable. Something this pure and good couldn’t fail—against any odds. It wasn’t a business. It was a human endeavor of the highest order.

  She breathed deeply the scent of dry prairie grasses.

  A fullness in her chest threatened to overwhelm her with happiness. To hell with what-ifs and maybes. She would survive whatever life threw at her in the future, but she would love life and the ranch and the children and Hank for every precious second given her.

  Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she laughed with the pure joy of the moment, and of the many moments to come with Hank. Would he take her back? She would simply have to make him, she thought, nodding her head for emphasis.

  “Are you ready for this?” Reaching for Janey’s hand, she squeezed it.

  Janey turned sparkling eyes her way, the irises magnified by unshed tears. “Yeah. I want to see where my little girl had so much fun.” Her broad smile, with the crooked eyetooth on the left side so like her daughter’s, split a face that had become more youthful and carefree the farther they’d driven from the city.

  “Okay, let’s go.” Amy stepped out of the car and ran to the tree, brushing her fingers through the leaves clinging to the branches with a determination that matched Amy’s own.

  Among the earthy scents of nature, she smelled cinnamon and smiled. Hannah.

  The front door slammed. Hannah flew across the veranda and down the steps leaving Mother to follow in her wake. In the next instant, Hannah had her arms around Amy in a bear hug that belied her tiny size. Amy savored every breath-squeezing, rib-crunching second of it.

  “It’s about time you got home, young lady.” Hannah pulled back and rummaged through her apron pocket, coming up with a huge white cotton hankie she wiped across her eyes. “Now, you stay where you belong.”


  Amy beamed a smile at Hannah. Home. On the ranch. At last.

  Then Mother’s arms engulfed her and Amy squeezed her back, so very, very glad to return to this dear, dignified woman.

  “Mom,” she whispered through shaky tears. She hadn’t called her that in nearly twenty years. Mom. “I love you.” The weight of Amy’s ancient grief and anger and crippling sense of responsibility fell from her shoulders, leaving her buoyant.

  Mom shook in her arms. A hot, damp spot formed on Amy’s shoulder and cooled as Mom drew back. “Welcome home, Amy, darling.”

  One more quick, fierce hug then Amy pulled away, impatient to get to the man she loved.

  “Where’s Hank?” She scanned the yard. Where was the man she needed more than food and water and air?

  “He is out behind the stables, with Zeus,” Hannah answered.

  Amy twirled to run to him.

  “Who is this?” Hannah asked. Janey stood beside the car, fragile and hesitant in her tight black T-shirt, short red plaid skirt, heavy black mascara and countless piercings, a soft smile like her sweet little daughter’s lighting her face.

  “Hannah and Gladys, meet Janey. Cheryl’s mama.” It was the best introduction she could manage at the moment as she sprinted past the car and across the yard. “Fatten her up!” she called behind her.

  She heard Hannah and Mom laugh as she passed the corner of the stable. Rounding the rear of the building, she stopped suddenly.

  Across a long, long field, Hank sat atop Zeus with his back to her, tall and strong in all his vital, muscular glory, with the faded denim of his shirt stretched taut across his broad back and shoulders and biceps. His trademark white Stetson hid the deep brown hair whose lushness Amy knew by heart.

  After an eternity away, her blood pounded at the sight of him, beating a frantic rhythm as she absorbed every last detail of the man.

  The fullness in her chest swelled with his beauty. How could she have ever thought it would be possible to control her love for this man?

  How much joy could one heart hold? Boundless, eternal, soaring waves of it.

  Zeus ambled away from her, at a sedate pace for the horse who loved the feel of the wind as it streamed through his mane—like his owner.

  Studying them, Amy realized that both horse and master had bowed heads and that Zeus had a listless gait. Oh, Hank, what have I done to you?

  She’d destroyed his boundless enthusiasm. She had to make it up to him.

  Just as she opened her mouth to call to him, Hank lifted his head.

  “Damn you!” he shouted to the prairie, his raw, sexy voice tainted by misery and pain. And anger. Amy flinched. She started toward him, needed to soothe him, to beg his forgiveness.

  Hank leaned forward at that moment, spurring Zeus into a sudden run. Amy’s breath caught in her throat. Their quiet stillness of a moment ago transformed into raw power and energy.

  Zeus stumbled. As abruptly as the run had started, it ended with Hank flying from the horse’s back in a somersault that seemed to last forever before he hit the ground.

  Amy gasped.

  Hank rolled. Stopped. Lay still.

  Amy covered her mouth with both hands. Bile rose into her throat. Not Hank. No. He couldn’t be hurt. Not her Hank.

  No! Rage filled her. She refused to lose him. Not now. Not when she’d finally come to her senses, when she’d finally gained the courage to truly love.

  She raced to him as fast as her legs would carry her, but he was so damn far away.

  Move, Hank, her mind screamed.

  Not a ripple fluttered the grass that surrounded him.

  AW HELL, he was gonna hurt tomorrow. He hadn’t had the wind knocked out of him like this in years. He could feel the bruises forming already. He tried to get his breath back. Hard to do down here in the grass. Damn stupid that he couldn’t stay on Zeus through a little stumble like that. Just showed where his head was these days.

  Only one excuse. Amy. He missed her so damn bad. When he wasn’t furious with her, he ached till he felt black-and-blue in every cell of his body. Misery loves company. Hah! That was a lie. The crew couldn’t stand to be near him these days. Not Willie or Hannah.

  He lay on his stomach on the damp earth, breathing in the fecund scent of soil and dry grasses, and heard Zeus circle around to come back to him with an even gait. No damage there. Good.

  He should roll over to let the sun soothe the lids of the eyes he knew were bloodshot from lack of sleep. His stomach grumbled, but he didn’t care. Couldn’t eat these days.

  Maybe he should stay here forever. Just lie in the middle of this field until the hay grew over him and everyone forgot that Hank Shelter had ever existed.

  How was a man supposed to know that he lived only half a life until someone came along who completed him, who made him feel whole? How was he supposed to survive when she left, taking half of him with her?

  Aw hell, Amy. Why didn’t you just take a gun and shoot me? You would have done less damage.

  He heard her calling his name. She haunted him. He expected her in every room, at every turn, and died a little when she was never there.

  “Hank!”

  Amy, for the love of God, get out of my head.

  Footsteps pounded toward him.

  Get lost, whoever you are. Leave me to drown in my misery.

  Someone landed behind him, jostling his arm and ending with a jab of their knee into his side. Cripes. Whoever it was shouldn’t ever go into a healing profession.

  “Hank. Oh, my Hank.”

  His eyes flew open. All he saw was grass.

  Sweet Jesus. Amy. She was real. Here. Amy, Amy, Amy. His pulse leaped at the sound of her beautiful voice.

  Not melodic now, though.

  Frantic. Scared. Miserable. Well, so she should be. Some devil inside of him raised his figurative head in the middle of the shock of her presence. Figurative. Great word.

  He closed his eyes so she wouldn’t know he was awake. A fine anger simmered over his joy. He should give her a taste of her own medicine. Make her as low-down, mean-spirited ornery as he’d been without her.

  He lay still. Controlled his breathing. Hardened his heart. Tried to stay unmoved by her touch.

  “Help!” she screamed. “Help!”

  Jeez. No one was going to hear her all the way out here.

  “Hank, wake up.” She tapped the side of his face with her palm, a little too hard in her haste and fear. Definitely not skilled in the healing arts.

  She leaned her smooth cheek against his, surrounding him with her tropical coconut scent. He breathed discreetly but wanted to gulp mouthfuls of it.

  He needed to touch her, but clenched his hands around hunks of grass against the urge. She’d put him through hell. But, dear God, she smelled good.

  Grabbing his arm, she rolled him over. Good thing he wasn’t seriously hurt. She might have killed him by now.

  She fumbled with his eyelids and he quickly rolled his eyeballs up.

  “Please be okay.” Urgency threaded through her plea.

  She tilted his head back and pulled his chin down, then breathed into his mouth. He nearly lost it, barely refrained from pulling her into his arms and devouring her sweet mouth. He almost cried when she pulled away, leaving his lips cool and damp.

  He felt her fingers tentative on his chest, seeking something. Then she pressed hard on his sternum with her fists. He barely held back a grunt. For Pete’s sake, she was supposed to check his pulse to make sure he didn’t have one before she assumed he needed CPR.

  She pressed again.

  Jesus, she was going to kill him. He had to give her points for trying, but she’d be breaking one of his ribs right now if he wasn’t padded with muscle.

  He felt something round on his chest and realized it was her head.

  “I love you, you big, wonderful oaf.”

  His heart hammered in his chest. She loved him! But did she have the nerve to follow through on it?

  Keep talkin
g. I’m listening. He was having more and more trouble not grabbing her and kissing the daylights out of her.

  “I came home to marry you.”

  His breath caught in his throat. Marriage? Amy, his? Finally?

  “I want to live with you on the ranch forever.”

  Forever!

  His heart took flight like a prairie falcon.

  Her soft, warm, feminine body fell on top of him. She was his.

  That was it. A man could only hold back for so long. He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed hard, almost overcome with the exquisite pleasure of holding the woman he loved. Exquisite. God, he loved that word! He was never letting her go again. Ever.

  He heard her shrieks muffled against him. When he eased his grip, she popped up to stare at him with her vibrant green eyes.

  “You’re all right?” she whispered, her voice tentative. “You’re all right,” she screamed, running her hands over his arms and shoulders and chest and—yes!—lower.

  “Where are you hurt?” she asked. He raised a finger to smooth the frown from her forehead.

  “Nowhere.”

  “What?” Confusion replaced the frown. “But—” She touched his head. “You were lying so still.”

  “Sweetheart.” He nuzzled her neck. “It would take a fall a hell of a lot worse than that puny one to damage a head as hard as mine.”

  She stiffened in his arms. “You weren’t hurt? At all?”

  “Maybe a little winded.” He licked the sensitive skin behind her ear. He knew she liked that. She didn’t shiver like before, though. She still felt stiff.

  “You were only a little winded?”

  He removed his lips from her neck and grinned up at her. “Yeah.”

  The punch caught him in the solar plexus. The breath whooshed out of him.

  Damn, he never had been much good at reading women. Lack of practice, maybe. He’d better get good at it fast.

  She tried to wriggle away from him.

  “Oh, no, you don’t,” he growled. “I’m never letting go of you again.”