by Becky McGraw
It had been almost a month since she’d spoken to her parents, so she decided to call to check on them. Shortly after hello, her mother had rushed into telling her they were moving to Arizona. Her father’s arthritis was getting too bad for them to care for the ranch, and he needed a different climate. And they were selling the ranch, her childhood home, if she didn’t want to come back and take over.
She was a single mother who hadn’t farmed or ranched in nearly fourteen years. How the hell was she supposed to maintain a ranch on her own?
“We’re moving, baby girl,” her mother said firmly. “Your father and I need to move closer to town. We’re getting old and need to be nearer to a hospital.”
“Closer to town?” she repeated with an incredulous laugh. “Arizona is not closer to town, mom, that’s a whole other state!” Closer to a hospital. The words sent fear spiraling through her. “Mom, Dad’s not sick is he? You’re not sick?”
Her mom laughed, and Carrie relaxed a little. “No, honey. We’re just getting old. We had you late in life, you forget that. We need to retire and enjoy what’s left of our lives.”
Her mother was sixty-eight, which wasn’t really that old, but her dad was seventy-three. They were getting old, and Carrie knew from living at the ranch, it had become too much for him to manage alone.
“But Arizona?” she asked with a shake of her head.
Her mother’s voice was very chirpy and excited, as she said, “We found a condo there that’s really nice. The dry heat will do your dad’s bones good.”
A small condo with no yard for a man who’d lived and worked in the wide open space his entire life was going to take some major adjustment. “Dad’s on board with this? You know he likes his garden.”
“There’s a community garden there where he can piddle.”
It looked like they had it all figured out. And they were moving. To Arizona. In a week. She had one week to decide if she wanted the ranch or not, or they were selling it.
“Mom, you’re the only family I have left,” Carrie said, her voice shaking over the words.
Her mother had to notice, but she just rushed on. “If you don’t think you want it, we’ll sell the ranch and give you and the kids a good nest egg to see you through. You’ll have enough to pay for their college if you’re frugal.”
A nest egg? Frugal? Carrie knew any money they gave her would be quickly gobbled up by the flesh-eating piranhas, also known as bill collectors. She huffed out a breath. “I don’t want your money, mom. You and dad worked hard for that. You’ll need it to pay your bills in Arizona.”
“We have our social security, and savings, honey. Don’t worry about us, we’ll be fine.”
Carrie was worried about herself. She knew her parents had more than enough money saved for their retirement. They would be fine. She on the other hand would be homeless, without an anchor or roots. No fallback plan if this job here at the R & R didn’t work out.
Her kids would be homeless, and rootless too. And they wouldn’t have anyone here other than themselves to rely on for help. It suddenly felt like she was freefalling into a dark abyss.
“Mom, I have to go,” Carrie said in a breathless whisper, as she fumbled to hang the phone up on the base.
When she wrapped her head around the fact that her parents were really leaving her, Carrie would call her mother back. But right now, she needed some air. To stretch her legs and clear her head. What she really wanted to do was scream her frustration at the top of her lungs. The lake would be a good place to scream. Out there nobody would hear her.
A ride to the lake is what she needed. She hoped she didn’t run into Dylan, or anyone else at the barn. She didn’t want to talk to anyone right now.
Somehow, her shaky legs carried her to the back door, and she went outside. Her sole focus was on getting to the barn, so she didn’t notice Terri emerge from the medic shack until she yelled behind her. “Wait up!”
Carrie thought about being rude and ignoring her. She really, really didn’t want to talk to anyone right now. But she didn’t have rude in her for the woman who had been so good to her and her kids. She stopped and waited for Terri to catch up.
“You look like a thundercloud. It’s a gorgeous Saturday, your cakes are made for tonight, so you should be smiling. Where are you off to in such a hurry?”
Carrie sighed. “I’m going for ride to the lake,” she replied.
Terri’s smile widened, then she hooked her arm through Carrie’s. “I’ll go with you.”
Carrie dug in her heels to stop. “Terri, I really don’t feel like company right now. I need to be alone.”
Terri’s dark brows slammed together and her face sobered. She stepped back and put her hands on her hips. “Somebody here messing with you?” she grated, looking almost like she would if someone threatened her son Jayden. Mama bear protectiveness. The same way she felt about her own kids. Nobody messed with her kids, or family. That Terri felt that way about her touched her heart. The people at this ranch were wonderful and caring folks, they’d taken her into their fold without questions, and without really knowing her.
She sure wished that Dylan realized that too. He would be a lot better off if he stayed here. But he was leaving, as soon as the doctor released him. Because he was a coward, afraid to love or be loved.
She missed him, but she needed to get the hell over that, and over him. She had other things to think about right now. More important things than Dylan Thomas and his problems.
Her decision wouldn’t just affect her and her kids. If she chose to move back to the ranch, she would be leaving Terri in the lurch to find someone else to do the baking for the pavilion, after she’d given Carrie this golden opportunity. If she stayed, her parents would sell the ranch and she wouldn’t have anywhere to go if things didn’t work out here.
Carrie needed an income, and ranching wasn’t profitable most times, especially if you did it on a small scale, and alone. Cake baking, on the other hand, was proving to be a great business, and she was good at it. But that could change. And then she wouldn’t have an income or a place to live for her and her kids.
You wouldn’t really have any bills out there other than electricity and fuel for the tractor to cut the fields, her mind whispered. Or anybody to help her if something happened to her or the kids, she growled back mentally. She could cut hay and sell it. That wasn’t a good income, it was seasonal, but it would help supplement Sean’s paltry pension. She could sell off the stock and horses, and rent the six stalls in the barn to boarders.
Five stalls, she corrected. She was keeping Yogi, even though he would be another mouth to feed. She would just put him out to graze during the summer, so she’d only have to feed him in winter. There was no way she was selling her horse she’d had since she was sixteen. He was old and crotchety now, but she raised him from a baby.
“You gathering wool?” Terri asked with a laugh.
Carrie dragged herself out of her warring thoughts. “Yeah, I guess I am. I have some things to sort out. I’m sorry I’m being rude…”
Terri nudged her arm. “No need to be sorry. Every girl needs space. Go find your peace, but if you want to talk, you know where to find me.” With a wink, Terri turned and walked back to the medic shack. Carrie turned and started toward the barn again.
As she got near the barn, Carrie heard loud whoops echoing on the air. One sounded a lot like her son’s voice. Instead of going into the barn, she changed direction and walked around the barn. Her feet stuttered, then stopped at the white fence surrounding the mechanical bull. Chris was up on the machine, grinning from ear to ear, with one hand thrown up in the air. His long skinny legs and the rope cinching his right hand were the only things holding him up on the machine, as it spun to and fro like a real bull. Carrie’s heart shot up to her throat, and she held her breath, when the bull reversed direction, and he slipped to the left.
“Hell yeah!” he hollered, adjusting his body to stay on.
“That’s
it, Chris! Keep him under you!” Dylan shouted.
That was when she finally noticed Dylan was the one controlling the bull from the other side of the arena. His face was just as excited as her son’s. Their eyes practically sparkled with it. Neither of them noticed her or anything else going on around them. That was good, because she just wanted to watch, and yearn for this fantasy to be real.
The bull changed direction again, Chris slid sideways and Carrie fought the urge to jump the fence and catch him, or yell be careful. In two bucks he’d gotten himself straight in the saddle. He smiled over at Dylan, who looked on proudly.
“Good job, buddy!” Dylan shouted.
“It’s the lucky hat!” Chris yelled back, patting the tattered hat on his head, which looked like it had been stomped on a few times with his free hand, as he swirled to the right on the bull.
“It’s not the hat. It’s damned good riding,” Dylan countered gruffly.
After a few more gyrations, the bull slowed then came to a stop with one final spin. Chris hopped down and ran for the control area. He whooped and Dylan gave him a high five, then clasped his hand to pull him to his chest for a man hug. He patted the top of Chris’s hat. “You be sure to wear that thing when you ride. It’s saved my hide too many times to count.”
Chris looked up at him. “If I have your lucky hat, what’s gonna save your hide now?” he asked seriously.
“I don’t need luck now, I have skill,” Dylan explained. “Now you take over the controls and let me go for a ride. I showed you how they work. Give me your rankest bull ride kid. I need to get ready to get back on.”
“You’re not gonna stay on my version of Bushwacker. Two seconds tops,” Chris said arrogantly. “I’ve been watching those CDs you gave me.”
“Eight,” Dylan replied confidently as he walked to the bull, and vaulted on top. He hooked the rope around his left hand, tested it, adjusted it, then scooted forward. Chris got at the controls, and when Dylan threw his right hand in the air and nodded, Chris grinned evilly.
With a forceful jerk, the bull took a deep dip, then an immediate right spin. Dylan focused on the spot between the bulls shoulders, and moved his body expertly with every buck and spin that Chris gave him. And Chris hadn’t lied, he gave him everything he had. No bull could be that crazy and out of control, Carrie thought, as she held her breath watching. The muscles in Dylan’s back flexed under the thin t-shirt he wore, as he shifted his weight left and right, forward and back to counter the moves of the mechanical bull.
Chris whooped, and thrust the joystick upward, which made the bull buck harder. Dylan grunted and his free hand dipped toward the bull, but he thrust it higher, along with his chin. She could see the fierce determination on his face, as Chris swung the bull left, then sharply right.
Dylan’s body slid to the left, his hat flew off and he was on the side of the bull as it swung around for another circle, then another. Dylan fought with the rope that held his left hand to the machine. It looked like his hand was stuck in the rope. Fear shot to her throat. Chris didn’t notice, he was so caught up in the excitement.
“Chris stop!” Carrie shouted, as she scrambled over the fence. When she reached him, his head was bent as he pressed buttons on the box frantically, but the machine kept spinning, dragging Dylan around and around as it went.
“Chris cut it off,” she yelled, running across the ring toward him. She glanced back at the bull and Dylan’s feet were dragging in the dirt as he was pulled around and around by the bull.
“I can’t mom!” Chris said, pressing even more buttons, pulling switches. The bull reversed direction again, took a couple of big bucks, and Dylan groaned loudly.
“Hit the kill switch!” Dylan yelled, then groaned again as the bull made yet another turn.
A red button on the side of the machine caught her attention, and with her heart pounding out of her chest, Carrie slapped it, praying it was the right one, and wouldn’t make things worse.
The bull jerked to a stop and Dylan sighed loudly, his chin dropping to his chest as he got his feet under him. She could see the pain in his pinched face as he untangled the rope to get his hand free. When he got it, his arm immediately dropped to his side and he cradled it. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he grumbled, bending at the waist to hold his arm to his stomach.
“Chris, go get Terri,” Carrie said breathlessly, fighting the urge to get sick as she hopped the fence to go to Dylan. He had dropped to his knees in the middle of the ring to rock while holding his elbow. Chris took off running, and Carrie did too. She dropped beside Dylan and put her arm around his shoulders. “What hurts?”
“Every damned thing in my body, but mostly my left shoulder,” he replied with a groan.
“Isn’t your right shoulder your problem?” Carrie asked.
His voice was raw and tortured, when he said, “Looks like it’s both of them now. I guess the release in my pocket doesn’t mean shit now. It’ll be a long time, before I can go back now. If ever.” He moaned again and gripped his arm tighter. “Because I was trying to show off for a fucking kid. Make him love the sport like I do,” he whispered hoarsely.
“He loves you,” Carrie replied. It was more than obvious her son did love and respect Dylan. Looked up to him. And that was too damned bad, really. He needed that male connection in his life more than anything, but she just wished he’d have picked a better role model. This one was just too damaged to love anyone, even himself.
“I don’t want to fucking be loved. I want to go back to the rodeo,” Dylan growled.
Carrie sat down in the dirt to hug her knees to her chest. “See, here’s the thing about love. You don’t have to invite it in for it to happen. Sometimes people are so good to you, they help you and pretend to care about you, and it just comes whether you want it or not.”
That was her situation. No matter how hard she fought it, she loved Dylan Thomas. Wanted him to love her. To fulfill the secret little fantasy in her mind of him being hers. Yeah, even though she’d said she wasn’t going to do it, and she was still pissed at him, her heart had other ideas. She was sure her son and Izzy felt the same way. But this man was more damaged emotionally than he was physically. It was pointless to keep pounding her head and wishing things were different.
But if he wasn’t leaving this ranch, she would have to. There was no way she was going to be able to stay here if he was here. Letting her kids continue to be around him, get deeper in with him emotionally, was not good for any of them.
“I’m leaving, going back to my parents’ ranch. They’re moving to Arizona.” That wasn’t the decision she wanted to make, but the one she had to make now.
His head swung and his hot eyes met hers. “You need to stay here. There are people here to help you. You have a good job and good friends here.”
“I could say the same to you. I know as soon as that new injury heals, you’ll be out of here, before they can blink,” she replied with a shake of her head. “We’re moving back to the ranch. I think that’s the best thing for the kids right now. They need roots, and so do I. If my parents sell the ranch, we won’t have any.”
They sat there in brooding silence for a few minutes, then Carrie wondered why her son and Terri hadn’t come to check on Dylan. “I’ll go find Terri. I guess Chris got lost.”
“I’ll just walk to the medic shack,” Dylan grumbled as he pushed to his feet. He released his arm for a second to swoop his hat off the ground. He dusted it off and slammed it down on his head. “Later,” he said walking toward the fence.
Carrie stared at his back , and folded her arms over her chest , wondering how the hell he thought he was going to get over that fence. He would have to ask for help, so she just waited. When he put his boot on the bottom rung, and balanced then sat, before throwing his long leg over the top rail, without hands, she figured out quickly Dylan was used to doing things himself. He’d rather die than ask for help from anyone. Stubborn ass.
Maybe that’s the attitude she needed
to adopt too. Having faith that she was strong enough to be independent, solve her own problems. Not rely on other people to help her solve them, or count on them being there when things went south. With her parents leaving, the only one she was going to have to rely on from here on out was herself. She would be alone in the fight for survival. She needed to be a survivor instead of a victim.
Sean dying had uprooted her life, and set her adrift on a sea of circumstances. She’d been alone, but she hadn’t been independent. She’d been taking the waves of bad news and bad luck, and rolling with them, but she hadn’t been in control of her life. Maybe it was time she took control. She’d file for bankruptcy, something she’d been fighting for almost ten years now. Something she and Sean said they would never do. Then she’d take over her parents’ ranch and start fresh. A new beginning for her and her children.
Carrie could be a rancher, a good one. Her daddy had taught her how it was done. Yeah, she’d been a kid and didn’t know all of the ins and outs, but she could learn just like she’d taught herself to bake a cake from scratch. Stiffening her shoulders and her resolve, she unfolded her arms and walked to the fence too, and scaled it.
She walked around the corner of the barn and stopped when she heard raised voices, one of them very clearly Australian, and the other Dylan’s. She sighed, and started walking again. Evidently even an injury couldn’t prevent the two testosterone-soaked cowboys from arguing. Most times over nothing. There was so much tension between the two of them, she could definitely see them coming to blows often if Dylan stayed here.
But when she rounded the corner, she realized it wasn’t Zane and Dylan arguing this time. A very rough-looking cowboy was arguing with Zane, and Dylan was standing in front of the big Aussie with his right hand in the center of his chest, as if holding him back. Another smaller, much younger, thuggish teenager stood beside the rough cowboy. The two strangers didn’t look like they fit together at all. One was obviously country to the core, and the other urban tough.
“Get your bloody arse off this ranch, or I’ll take a bite out of it, mate,” Zane growled, baring his teeth, as he pushed against Dylan’s hold. Dylan stumbled back, but put his right shoulder into holding the cowboy back. “I told you my mouth is zipped. I don’t know nothing, don’t want to know.”