by Jillian Hart
“Take notes and get back to me. I think they’ve got something going on.” And about time, too. Dad deserved to be happy. So did Sierra. “Think you will ever marry again?”
“Me?” Startled, she jumped back. If he hadn’t had a good hold on her, her hand would have broken away from his. She shook her head hard enough to scatter her light-filled hair. “No. That is not on my agenda. One disastrous relationship has been more than enough.”
She probably thought she was hiding her pain, but not from him. He could feel it like a current tugging at him, carrying him along with the power of her emotions. He didn’t run from it. He didn’t push it away.
He straightened his spine, set his shoulders and stepped up to the challenge. “How do you know another relationship would end up the same?”
“I don’t, but I have Owen to consider.” There was no hiding the devotion that transformed her as she fastened her gaze on her son. He and Frank were learning to post, Jack obligingly trotting slow and steady for the boy’s benefit. “I can do it!” Owen’s shout echoed overhead.
Sierra lit from within as she watched her child. “I couldn’t put Owen through that a second time. His heart is too much to risk.”
“Yes, it is.” That was his answer to a question he hadn’t even formulated in his mind, much less dared to ask. He wasn’t disappointed, was he? He wasn’t sure what had settled heavy and pinched in his chest. “Owen is a great kid. If he were mine, I’d protect him with my life.”
“Oh, says the confirmed bachelor.”
“I know, easy to say, harder to do, but it’s true.” He made sure she couldn’t see the sense of loss on his face, loss over too many things to try and figure out. Jack paraded by in a gentle cantor.
“Look at me, Mom! Look!” Owen held on with both hands to the saddle now, learning to keep his seat on a moving animal. He would need that when he met up with the sheep. “I’m ridin’ Jack!”
“What a good job. Yay!” She applauded and cheered. “Go, cowboy!”
“That’s me. I’m a rodeo rider!”
Thank you for this day, Lord. Never had she felt more grateful than to see Owen well and happy. She was truly blessed, indeed, and she would not forget it. The sun chose that moment to brighten, as if heaven understood.
“That’s the way I learned to ride.” Tucker gestured toward his father, the boy and horse as they slowed to a jouncing trot. “I remember what that was like, so excited I was about to burst at the seams, scared because that was a long way down. Most of all I felt safe because my dad was there, someone who would never let me fall. I wish I could be in that saddle today. Some traditions should be passed on.”
“I didn’t know you were so traditional.” It was difficult to keep her pulse from picking up an extra beat as Tucker’s hold on her hand tightened in a squeeze of meaning. When he released her, her palm felt cold, her fingers strangely disconnected as if she were now no longer complete.
“I’m full of surprises.” He grinned his signature, coma-inducing smile and pushed away from the rail, leaving her alone. He padded over to the small rise of bleachers and pulled something off a bench. “Hey, Owen! You’re not a true rodeo rider until you have your own hat.”
“Oh boy!” Owen slid off the saddle and into Frank’s waiting hands. The older man lowered him gently to the ground. Soft dirt rose up in puffs as the boy ran as fast as he could. “My own hat!”
“A genuine Stetson.” Tucker hopped over the low rail and knelt in the loam, hat in hand. “It’s just like mine.”
“It is.” Owen hopped up and down in place, unable to contain his excitement as the hat settled on his head. “We match!”
“That we do, little buddy.”
She wouldn’t call the emotion that ebbed to life within her affection, but the quiet reverence filling her chest was definitely more powerful than gratitude. It made her see Tucker in a whole new light.
“Owen, time to meet your match.” Tucker gave the boy a pat on the shoulder, gently turning him around. “That’s my sister Autumn. She’s bringing in Cotton Ball.”
“Cotton Ball?” Owen didn’t sound too impressed. He didn’t blame the kid. No true cowboy wanted to think his nemesis was soft and cuddly.
“Don’t let the name fool you. Cotton is a terror in disguise. A real wolf in sheep’s clothing.” He said that for Sierra, who watched him from the rail. He was rewarded by her rippling chuckle as Autumn led the fluffy white sheep into the ring.
“I can’t believe you said that.”
“Hey, I’m a cowboy, not a comedian.” He liked making her laugh. She lit up from the inside, radiant with a beauty that took his breath away. For a second he forgot where he was as she swished a lock of hair behind her shoulder and her gray irises glimmered almost blue.
“You are definitely not as funny as you think.” She leaned against the rail. She was picture perfect with her cheeks rosy and her smile sparkling with happiness. “Cotton does look like a toughie.”
“He gave me some attitude this morning when I cleaned his stall.” He knelt, wanting to look at the boy and gauge his emotions. Was Owen a little afraid and in need of reassurance? He’d gone unusually quiet. “I think he’ll be a tough ride. Only the best cowboy can handle him. What do you think about that, buddy?”
“I don’t wanna do a bad job.” Owen took a wobbly breath, squaring his shoulders like a determined little man. “My mom’ll be disappointed.”
“I don’t think you have to worry about that because I’m going to help you. Come on.” Tucker took the first step and waited patiently for the child to follow. “First we’re going to meet him and I’ll help you along. Deal?”
“Deal.” Owen plodded forward, eyes wide and focused on the sheep.
Across the arena Cotton faced toward them, full of attitude. His big, friendly gaze quickly searched for any sign of a treat. Cotton was no dummy. He lifted his nose to scent the air the instant Tucker slipped his hand into his jacket pocket. A baleful “baaaah” had to be lamb-speak for “hand over the treat, buddy.”
“Look how big he is.” Tucker pressed a molasses goody into Owen’s palm. “He’s a real dangerous beast. I’d be careful if I were you.”
“I’m gonna look him in the eye just like you did with Slayer.”
“Good. Hold out the treat for him. No need to be scared. He’s ferocious, but he’s basically a nice sheep.” Tucker could feel Sierra’s amusement wafting his way. He glanced over the top of the boy’s Stetson to see her hiding her laughter behind her hands. Glad she was enjoying the show. He sent her a wink, ignored the zing of satisfaction when she winked back. Joyous, he hunkered back down to dole out more advice. “Be sure and talk to him. Introduce yourself good and proper.”
“Nice to meet you, Cotton.” The boy stood his ground as the animal spotted the goody, zeroed in like a nuclear submarine on a target and charged.
Dirt flew, and the sheep gained speed. Autumn ran beside the creature and choked on laughter as the fluffy beast skidded to a last-minute stop, snatched the prize from the boy’s hand and crunched happily.
“My name is Owen. I want to be your friend.” He patted the sheep on his head. The animal bumped up into the stroke, the pampered pet that he was, and fastened his gaze on Tucker’s coat pocket, hoping for more treats.
“Mom! Did you see? I tamed Cotton!”
“You sure did.” She applauded. “Good job.”
“I know.” Owen seemed pleased with himself as he gave his adversary one more pat.
“Look how he’s sizing you up.” Tucker handed over another treat and took the lead rope from Autumn, who was doing her best to hold in her laughter.
“Too cute,” she whispered.
That the boy was. Not that he was fond of him, or anything. And his mother—she represented a whole new level of fondness. It was the emotional equivalent of getting his boots stuck in the mud. He couldn’t step back and he couldn’t step forward and he was standing ankle-deep somewhere he didn’t want to be.
His gaze zoomed to her of its own will. He’d thought her beautiful in the hospital, but here in the wash of sunlight with the heavy burden of worry off her shoulders and laughter enlivening her, she looked like his heart’s desire.
Strange, since he didn’t know his heart had wished for anything, aside from keeping things easy and light. But there it was, his truest wish revealed.
“Do you think you can ride that wild beast?” Dad’s voice boomed from the doorway as he strode back in.
Tucker, kneeling beside Owen, recalled when his father had been larger than life, a giant to the little boy he’d been, and still one to him today. Frank gentled his gruff baritone for the boy’s sake, just as he’d done for his own kids. Tucker remembered that, too.
Frank knelt to give Cotton a pat. “There, there, fella. You give Owen a great ride, okay?”
The sheep let out an agreeable “baaaah,” turning to search Frank’s pockets, hoping for another treat.
Tucker laughed. He couldn’t help it. Life felt right for the first time in a long while. He’d simply been drifting and he’d found his anchor. “We’ll take that as an affirmative. C’mon, Owen, time to mount up.”
“All right!” Excited and a little scared too, the boy gulped and straightened his spine. “Let’s do this.”
A perfect imitation of himself, Tucker realized, hearing what he often said before the gate opened. He felt the pull of Sierra’s gaze and, as he swept Owen up into the air, he turned toward her. Time skidded to a halt when their eyes met. Dad’s low-toned conversation with Owen silenced and the sun faded until there was only her.
Time did not seem to stand still for her. “Don’t let him fall too hard,” she said, mouthing the words so Owen would not hear.
“I won’t. Promise.” He’d been up early preparing. The loam was thick and fresh, as soft as could be.
Regard chased the smile from her face. For a moment, he could not move. His pulse forgot to beat. All that mattered was the esteem he felt in the silent, shared moment.
“Tucker! I’m good to go.” Owen’s excitement came as if through a tunnel, drawing him back to reality.
He shook his head, trying to scatter the effects the woman had on him. It didn’t work—they remained like set concrete. Normally that might panic him, but not this time. Not with Sierra. He knelt down beside the sheep, who was fidgeting, not at all sure what a little boy was doing on his back. Frank knelt on the other side of the animal, holding him in place.
“Remember what I showed you on Jack,” Dad told the kid. “Hold on with your arms and your knees. Keep your head low.”
“Don’t forget the most important part.” Tucker tugged on the brim of the boy’s Stetson.
“What’s that?” Worried he’d forgotten something, those blue eyes widened.
“Have fun.” He caught his dad’s nod. The moment Frank released his hold on the sheep, Tucker tapped Cotton lightly on the backside. The animal hopped forward, running on his little sheep’s legs. Nothing was cuter than the boy stretched out on the creature’s fuzzy white back, slipping and sliding.
“Hold on, buddy!” Tucker called, straightening up to watch the progress as Cotton shot toward the center of the arena.
“That’s right, Owen.” Frank encouraged. “Good job. Use your knees.”
The boy slid sideways, Cotton was alarmed by this and took off at a dead run. Owen went airborne and tumbled into the soft loam like a cowboy champion.
“Good ride!” Tucker clapped, dashing over as fast as he could go. The boy shoved up out of the dirt, a smile splitting his round face.
“Oh boy! Did you see me? Did you?”
“I saw, buddy. That was the best ride I’ve ever seen.” He helped the boy up and dusted him off, hat and all. “Are you ready for another run?”
“Yeah!” Owen danced with excitement. “I can do better this time. Mom, I’m a real rodeo rider!”
“You are. The best ever.” She punched the air, blond hair bouncing, a vision in a jacket and jeans. “Go, Owen. Yay!”
“Excellent ride!” Autumn chimed in with a whistle. “You did better than Tucker on his first mutton ride.”
“I did?” Thrilled, Owen hopped up and down. “Is that true, Tucker?”
“I don’t know. What do you think, Justin?” His older brother had moseyed in from the stables to watch the goings-on.
“Owen is definitely much better than you ever were.” Justin’s tone radiated great deliberation.
“I agree. Owen, that was one perfect ride.” Dad had caught the sheep. “Cotton is ready to go.”
“Yippee.” Owen exchanged a few words with Cotton before Frank lifted him onto the back of the animal and let go.
Tucker planted his hands on his hips and joined the cheering and applauding as Owen clung to a running Cotton. Funny how life had a way of turning on you, taking you back to a place you were once sure you’d never be. He was home and happier than he remembered being.
A man’s heart plans his way, but the Lord directs his steps. The Bible verse came to him as a gentle reminder that maybe this was where he’d been heading all along.
Owen hit the dirt and bounded to his feet. “Again! I gotta do that again.”
Tucker felt her gaze like a touch. When he turned around, Sierra watched him with a plain gratitude that ran ocean deep. Gratitude wasn’t what he wanted from her. He had the feeling it was about all he would ever get.
Her words came back to him like a whisper from his soul. I couldn’t put Owen through that a second time. His heart is too much to risk.
Romance wasn’t in Sierra’s plans. Good thing, he thought as he caught Cotton by the halter. Because romance wasn’t in his plans either. Feelings were only feelings. They didn’t need to go anywhere.
Across the arena, Sierra didn’t take her gaze off her son. Her love and devotion radiated pure and bright, an infinite light that Tucker appreciated and admired.
Cotton searched his pockets for a treat as Owen scampered up, breathless and laughing. Good to see. He gave the sheep a pat. “Are you having fun, buddy?” Tucker asked Owen.
“Lots and lots!”
“Are you up for another run?”
“You know it!”
Cute. Tucker gave the boy’s brim a tug. His gaze shot straight to Sierra. It was impossible to ignore the pangs of longing for something he’d never known he wanted before.
Chapter Nine
“Owen looks like he’s found paradise.” Autumn joined Sierra at the family-room window in the Granger’s house and handed her a cup of herbal tea. The sweet, minty goodness lifted with the steam, scenting the air.
“I don’t think his feet have touched the ground once since we got out of the car in your driveway.” She took the cup and saucer with thanks, not quite able to take her gaze away from the sight of her son hopping down from the two-ton truck he and Tucker had taken to haul feed to the field animals. Even far away she could read the glow as Owen tipped back his head to gaze up at his hero. He eagerly tucked his little hand in Tucker’s much larger one.
“It’s good to see Tucker up and about again.” Rori, Justin’s wife, joined them at the window with a plate of oatmeal cookies just out of the oven. “He had a hard time for a while there.”
“Not that he would admit it.” Autumn took a cookie. “He made light of the whole thing, but we almost lost him. I’ll never forget seeing the paramedics perform CPR. He was bedridden for a month.”
“You wouldn’t know it to look at him now.” The mother in Sierra thought cookies might spoil her supper, but the girl in her was already reaching for one. It also gave her a reason not to watch the drop-dead gorgeous man strolling down the hillside with her son. She bit into the warm, crumbly goodness, unable to keep her gaze from returning to Tucker.
“No, Tucker doesn’t let anything keep him down for long.” Rori bit into a cookie, too. She was tall and willowy, elegance in a sweatshirt and blue jeans. Her straight, blond hair was pulled back in a French braid. Her deep bl
ue eyes searched the hillside until she found her husband, forking hay into a field feeder. Infinite love shone on her heart-shaped face. Married life for her and Justin had proven to be a true happily-ever-after.
It was nice to see.
“He’ll be back on the rodeo circuit soon and we’ll hardly see hide or hair of him again.” Autumn’s engagement ring sparkled in the fading evening light. “He’ll probably fly in at the last moment for my wedding this June and swoop right out that night, just like he did when you married Justin.”
“You know it,” Rori agreed sympathetically. “You could hog-tie him, the way you always threaten.”
“I may have to.” Autumn chuckled at the inside joke. “I’ve never actually roped him down, but there is always a first time. Sierra, maybe you could persuade him to hang around. He seems to like you.”
“I think it’s Owen he likes.” That was a nice dodge, she thought as she took a second bite of cookie.
“That’s true,” Autumn agreed, and Rori seconded it with an emphatic nod.
Owen spotted her in the window and waved excitedly, radiating nonstop energy. Thank God for that. The big man at his side waved, too. She felt the impact of his gaze like arrows finding their target. Her stomach quivered. She would have to come to terms with her emotions sooner or later—maybe later would be safest.
Both man and boy disappeared from sight, but their boots hammered out a rhythm on the steps and across the porch. The back door whooshed open with a gust of cool wind and voices. Owen chattered away, asking rapid-fire questions that Tucker answered with good humor and a chuckle or two.
She polished off the cookie and sipped her delicious tea, preparing for the sight of him. She didn’t know what the binding connection was she felt with Tucker, but it strengthened when he sauntered into the room, stealing all the light and oxygen. She couldn’t seem to draw air. No one else around her had that problem. Autumn greeted her brother with a question about one of the cows. Rori encouraged Tucker to sit down and put his injured leg up to rest, which he declined. Owen danced across the room, relaying all the excitement of helping the Granger men feed the animals and muck out barns.