Rodeo Queen

by Shannon Taylor Vannatter

  “I gotta tell you, I worried about her after seeing her in that bar.”

  “She and Lane are both Christians now and it turns out they’ve been in love since high school.” Sounds familiar. Where Caitlyn’s heart was concerned, anyway. A little ache throbbed to life in her chest. “She gets to see her daughter just about any time she wants, and they’re doing great.”

  “She has a daughter?”

  “Back in her wild days, she got pregnant and signed custody over to the father. But now that she’s settled down, he lets Nat see Hannah.”

  “I’m glad it worked out well.”

  “Hannah is a darling.” Caitlyn patted her horse. “Her dad is a bull rider and, at first, he wouldn’t let us see Hannah. I guess he was afraid we’d try to take her away. But eventually he relented and I bonded with my niece.”

  “You always wanted kids.”

  Her stomach knotted. Mitch’s kids. “Hannah’s part of the reason I took the rodeo-queen gig. I used to keep her on Friday or Saturday nights—sometimes both. But since Nat’s back in the picture, I’m not needed as much and Hannah left a big hole in my weekends.” Sadness rang clear in her tone. Did he hear it?

  “I’m sure she still needs you. And maybe someday you’ll have kids of your own.” He chuckled. “But the rodeo-queen gig might not be conducive to motherhood, since it ties up your date nights.”

  Why did her imagined date nights include him, and why did her imagined child look like him? A lump formed in her throat.

  “So did you have to compete for your title?”

  “Sort of. I applied, provided the right clothing and showed them I could ride well, hold a flag upright and display poise. I did run barrels to show I could still compete. I think I’m the oldest queen they’ve ever hired.”

  “Yep, getting downright long in the tooth.” Mitch shot her a heart-melting grin.

  “I feel that way when I see the backup queens—still in their teens.” Caitlyn slapped her reins, urging her horse to a trot. They emerged in the clearing with the cabin in the distance.

  “After the cabin, we’ll have to go back.” Mitch’s horse surged up beside her and he checked his watch.

  The horses’ canter ate up the clearing and they slowed as they neared the cabin.

  “How often do you come here?”

  “Not as much as Grandpa thinks I need to. He wanted me to have a place to get away from...things.”

  Why did he have to bring up his job? She slid off her horse.

  Mitch waited as she climbed the porch steps, then followed and slid a key in the lock.

  Cedar siding filled her senses. No graying on the log exterior, just the rich rust-colored wood streaked with yellow tones. “How do you keep it so vibrant?”

  “I have it treated twice a year.” He opened the door and ushered her inside.

  Inside, the walls were log, as well. The living room sofa boasted a woodsy scene with deer leaping, a matching recliner and camouflage curtain toppers. The coffee table was built from logs and covered with gun and truck magazines. A rug bearing the image of a large buck complemented the rustic surroundings. An enormous TV, surrounded by dead animal heads, took up most of one wall.

  “You hunt now?”

  “No. It’s Grandpa’s collection. Grandma never liked them, so they’ve been in storage. He thought they fit better here than at the ranch.”

  “I was sorry to hear about her illness. She was a sweet lady.”

  “The best.” His gaze went to a built-in corner shelf filled with family photos. A picture of his grandparents—their smiles genuine, captured for eternity.

  “Let me show you around.” He ushered her to the kitchen.

  Saltshakers shaped like tree stumps with an antler thrown in for good measure sat on the cedar-log table. Plates featuring a buck in the middle and rimmed with camouflage lined open cedar shelves grooved to hold them in place.

  “I feel way too feminine to be here.” Her heart skittered in fine female form. Alone with Mitch in his most private getaway.

  “You’re welcome anytime.” Mitch grinned and opened a drawer. “Check out the silverware I got the last time I was here.”

  Even the silverware had a buck head at the base.

  “You have to see my bathroom. I may have gotten carried away. It’s through the bedroom.” Mitch led her back through the living room and gestured her to a doorway.

  Through his bedroom.

  Caitlyn’s stomach turned.

  Would there be traces of the new woman in his life there? A lingering perfume scent? Pictures? Feminine touches?

  She traipsed through his bedroom to find a brown suede-look comforter with a Texas-lone-star border. Fishing rods decorated the walls along with several stuffed fish. She scanned the rustic cedar dresser. No pictures. None on the log nightstand, either. If the new woman in his life had invaded his heart, at least she hadn’t invaded this part of his life.

  “Check it out.” Mitch stopped in the bathroom doorway.

  Deer-antler toilet paper, towel and toothbrush holders with the obligatory camouflage shower curtain and towels.

  “It looks almost dangerous. A person could get gored.”

  Mitch laughed. “I’ve had fun with it. All my friends love it. They’re all married, so they could never get away with any of this. Who knows, I might have to get rid of it one day.” His gaze caught hers.

  Her throat closed up. She bolted blindly back toward the living room.

  “Caitlyn?”

  “We’d better get back.”

  “Right.” His hands settled gently on her shoulders. “Listen, I’m certain you’re safe. I don’t want you to be scared, but I won’t take any chances.”

  Thank goodness he thought her jumpiness came from fear of her stalker instead of fear of someday reading his engagement announcement in the paper.

  “We should get this guy soon.”

  Then she could go home. Leave Mitch behind. And he could resume his life with his someone new.

  So why could she so easily imagine living here? With Mitch, minus a few dead things. Why did he have to be so noble? So good? Make her feel so safe?

  He opened the door and she stepped ahead of him. Eyes burning, she blinked away the threatening moisture.

  A blast went off. She jumped.

  A scream escaped her as Mitch tackled her and they both went rolling back inside the cabin.

  Chapter 7

  Mitch clamped his hand over Caitlyn’s mouth and kicked the door shut. With his body splayed over hers, his gun drawn, he listened. Nothing.

  “Quiet. Don’t move,” he whispered, and rolled off her.

  Huge sapphire eyes stared up at him.

  He gently touched her cheek, then turned the coffee table over to its side and pulled it in front of her for a makeshift barricade. He’d let his guard down and Caitlyn could have been shot. But he’d have to kick himself later. Mitch crawled across to the window.

  No movement in the clearing except the horses, their ears alert, hides flinching.

  Another blast. In the distance.

  Caitlyn yelped.

  “Relax.” His breathing eased. “It’s coming from far away. Sorry. I didn’t realize that at the first shot, I just reacted. It’s probably a hunter over on the next ranch. Deer season opens soon.”

  No response.

  Mitch turned to face her.

  Curled in a tight ball behind his coffee table, silent sobs racked her entire body.

  “Oh, Caitlyn. I’m sorry I scared you. You’re safe.” He gathered her in his arms.

  With her face pressed into his chest, her sobs found sound.

  And turned him inside out. “You’re safe with me. I’l
l never, ever let anything happen to you.”

  Through all her turmoil, she’d been so tough. But now the emotion she’d kept in check had caught up with her.

  He held her tight, wishing he could tell her how much he loved her. How much he wanted to keep her safe. For the rest of her life.

  * * *

  The next morning, Caitlyn stayed in her bed, listening to everyone’s movements. The stirring quieted and she heard voices outside, then vehicles leaving.

  Just her and Mitch. Alone in the house. She rolled over with her back to the bedroom door. If she stayed here, she’d be safe from Stuart Stevens. And safe from Mitch.

  And if he wasn’t close to her, he couldn’t take a bullet for her. She hadn’t really thought about it until yesterday—keeping her safe put him in danger.

  Her eyes felt swollen and her lids heavy. She’d barely slept last night and when she had, she’d relived her attack in her dreams.

  A gentle tap on her door. “Caitlyn.”

  She didn’t answer. Held her breath.

  “I know you couldn’t have slept through all the chaos. You hungry?”

  Maybe if she answered, he’d go away. “I’m fine.”

  “Can I come in?”

  “I don’t need anything.”

  “Can I come in?”

  She sighed and pulled the covers tighter. “Yes.”

  The door opened. His footfalls echoed across the hardwood. His legs interrupted her line of vision.

  “I know you’re not used to gunshots, being taken down and stalkers. But I won’t let you stay holed up in your room and be a hermit.”

  “That’s not what I’m doing. I’m tired.” Worn-out from being exposed to you.

  “I imagine you didn’t sleep much last night. Want me to get Stan to give you something?”

  “No. I’m fine.”

  “Well, here are your choices. Either you stay here and I’ll take up residence in the recliner again. Or you come downstairs, eat some breakfast and we’ll watch a movie or something. Grandpa has that Hallmark Channel you always liked.”

  Watch a love story with Mitch? No way. “I’ll come down, but no tearjerkers. Maybe we can find some good preaching to watch.”

  He drooped a little.

  Maybe preaching was what Mitch needed. “I’ve missed church two Sundays and Wednesday now. I haven’t missed that much church since I had the flu a few years ago.”

  “Fine. I’ll be downstairs.”

  Maybe she could help him remember he needed God. Before he took a bullet for her. Or someone else.

  * * *

  Two sermons later, Mitch was stiffer than she’d ever seen him. His family had returned and eaten lunch, then scattered to take advantage of the lovely weather. At least Grandpa had come inside, so they weren’t alone anymore.

  The Mission: Impossible theme played and Mitch dug his phone out of his pocket. “Uh, Grandpa, I need to take this in the kitchen. Can you keep an eye on things?”

  “Caitlyn and I will be fine.” Grandpa patted the seat beside him at the game table. “Maybe she can find this piece I’ve been pulling my whiskers out over.”

  The music was loud, insistent.

  “If anyone comes to the door—”

  “I know, I know.” Grandpa waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t answer it unless I know ’em, and Caitlyn needs to make herself scarce.”

  Mitch turned toward the kitchen.

  “You two need to get married, you know.” Grandpa tried to fit a piece in the puzzle.

  Caitlyn gasped.

  “You still love each other, I can see it.”

  If she’d known what to say, her vocal cords surely wouldn’t have responded.

  “I suspect you broke his heart because the job scared you.” He grinned as the piece slid in and he glanced up at her.

  “How did you know that?”

  “Been there, done that. I saw the same fear in Lyla’s eyes for forty years.”

  She stared at the puzzle as if her life depended on finding the next piece.

  “Broke your heart, too, I ’magine.”

  “We’ve moved on.” At least, Mitch had.

  “Crying shame when folks who should be together move on.” Grandpa slid another piece into place. “Lyla worried about me our entire marriage. Worried I’d get shot, or knifed, or die in a car chase. I retired a Texas Ranger with nary a gunshot wound or even a broken bone.” His voice broke. “Lyla never worried about cancer. She was gone at sixty-five. I’ve lived without her eight years now and I’m still kicking pretty good. Except in the broken-heart area.”

  “I’m sorry. I always loved her.”

  “Point is. She worried about me and she’s gone. I’m not. Just because someone is a Texas Ranger doesn’t mean they’ll die young. If something were to happen to Mitch—God willing, it won’t—but if it were, don’t you think you’d be heartbroken whether y’all were together or not?”

  Mitch stepped into the room, his face unreadable.

  “Something’s happened?” Her voice quivered.

  “They got him.”

  “He’s in jail?” She let out a whoop.

  “He shot himself.” Mitch shook his head. “He’s dead.”

  Her heart stilled. Emotions washed over her—relief the ordeal was over, guilt that she felt relieved over a death, yearning to stay close to Mitch. Her vision blurred and she pressed a shaky hand to her mouth.

  “It’s over.” Mitch knelt beside her and pulled her into his arms.

  And in spite of everything, this was right where she wanted to be. With Mitch.

  A blast fired in the distance. Mitch’s arms tensed—tightened around her.

  “Relax, son. It’s Langston next door.” Grandpa peered out the curtains. “Your trouble’s over.”

  But the distant shot served as a reminder of why she couldn’t be with him. Despite her feelings, his grandfather’s words, her heart—she couldn’t be that widow. She just couldn’t.

  * * *

  “But you can’t leave before the wedding,” Tara wailed, as if Caitlyn’s departure was the end of the world.

  “You weren’t planning on me being here anyway.” Caitlyn folded her blouse and stuffed it in her suitcase.

  “No, but then once you ended up here, I did. Please, Caitlyn, you have to stay. Just until the wedding’s over.”

  “I can’t. I have two businesses and my position as rodeo queen. And I’m not in danger anymore.” Her words caught. My attacker killed himself and Mitch is seeing someone. “There’s no reason for me to stay.”

  “I’m getting married. What more reason do you need? And it’s only a few more days.”

  “Oh, Tara, I’d love to stay, but—”

  “I originally wanted to ask you to be one of my bridesmaids.”

  “You did?” Caitlyn’s hands stilled in her folding.

  “But I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable—because of Mitch. So I sent the invitation. If you’d RSVP’d that you were coming, I planned to ask you.”

  “But since I declined, you didn’t. Why me? We haven’t seen each other in ten years.”

  “I always wished I had a sister. You were the closest thing I ever had.”

  Caitlyn squelched a sigh. “If you add me to the wedding, won’t that make your wedding party uneven? Jared will have fewer groomsmen.”

  “He had a cousin on standby.” Tara shrugged. “In case you agreed.”

  “That
leaves a slight dress and tux problem?”

  “Once you got here, I ordered those, too. Just in case. I guessed you wear an eight.”

  “Good guesser. And when were you planning to let me in on this plan?”

  “I’ve been praying they’d get the nut who has made your life miserable so Mitch would let you go to the fitting and to my outdoor wedding.”

  How could she let Tara down? Caitlyn inwardly sagged at what she was about to do. “I’ll check with my sister, my store manager and my boss at the rodeo. If everything is okay at home, I’ll stay.”

  Tara let out a whoop. “This is awesome!”

  “I still have to check on things.”

  But there was no cautioning Tara as she chattered about the wedding.

  A knock sounded at the door. Tara danced over and swung it open.

  Mitch.

  “What’s going on in here? It sounds like one of Tara’s middle-school sleepovers.”

  “Caitlyn’s staying for the wedding. She’s going to be a bridesmaid like I originally planned.”

  A smile lit Mitch’s eyes as his gaze met hers. “I was coming to ask if you were ready to head out.”

  “I have to check on my stores and my job.” She lifted one shoulder. “But Tara apparently didn’t hear me when I mentioned that.”

  “I don’t think she’s heard anything since Jared popped the question.” Mitch playfully knocked on Tara’s head.

  “Have to.”

  His gaze swung back to Caitlyn. “Glad you’re feeling better. And staying. Maybe you can have some fun now instead of being cooped up here.”

  “Ooh, Caitlyn, you can go to church with us tonight. And Mitch, you, too.” Tara jabbed a finger at him. “Don’t even try to get out of it.”

  Mitch looked squeamish.

  Please convince him to go, Lord. Not so I can be near him, but for his sake.

  But if she didn’t know better, she’d think Tara was trying to get them back together. Did Tara not like the new woman in his life? Or could she not let go of the past?

  Just like Caitlyn.

  Why had she agreed to stay? Her only hope now was that the store needed her.