Her Forever Cowboy

by Debra Salonen

  The question hung in the air as if Esther's ghost had spoken it aloud. It sounded like an Esther question. Blunt. To the point.

  "I don't know," he said, shaking his head.

  Yes, you do.

  The phone rang. He snatched up the receiver. "Anne?"

  "No, it's me. Gramps. You expectin' her call? Where is she?"

  Will rocked back in the chair and put his feet on the desk. "She took Zoey to town. She has her cell phone, though. I thought she might be checking in."

  Will was pretty sure his voice hadn't betrayed his feelings.

  A.J. didn't say anything for a full minute. Just enough time for Will to start sweating. "Might as well tell me what's going on, son. I'll find out soon enough. I'm on my way home."

  Will sat up sharply. The soles of his boots made a slapping sound when they hit the floor. "You did it? Esther?"

  "Yep. Just after dawn. It was gray and misty. I think she would have liked that better than sunny and bright."

  Will's eyes misted, too. "I'm sorry, Gramps. I bet it was tough."

  A.J. sniffed twice. "Not as bad as I thought it was going to be. She and I had a little talk first. She told me I was an old fool for hanging on to ashes when I should be home with my family."

  Will rubbed his hand across his eyes. "That sounds like Esther. I was just thinking about her. In fact, I thought I heard her call me a few names."

  "Oh, Lordy, what did you do now?"

  "It's complicated."

  "Love usually is."

  "Who said anything about love?"

  A.J.'s laugh was reminiscent of the old A.J. "Son, I've been fortunate enough to love two wonderful women in my life. I'm not so old and decrepit I can't remember what it's all about."

  "Gramps, Anne and I care about each other. But, face it, we're from different worlds. And we're going back to those worlds in a month. How the heck is love supposed to survive that kind of situation?"

  A.J. sighed. "I figured you were going to hit that wall sooner or later."

  "Perfect image. Kinda how I feel right this minute."

  "Well, if you're suffering whiplash, you can be dang sure Annie is in even worse shape. Women feel things harder than men. Of course, they're stronger, so it all works out, but she'll be hurting just the same."

  Will frowned. He'd been so busy stewing in his own juices he hadn't considered how she might be feeling. What if she was too upset to drive? She might accidentally drive too fast, miss a turn, overcorrect, and swerve out of control... "Gramps, I gotta hang up. I want to call Anne's cell phone and make sure she's okay."

  "I understand. But, grandson, you'd better take a minute and think about how you're going to apologize. Most times, sorry don't cut soft bananas, as your grandmother used to say."

  "Gramps, she wants me to quit bull riding."

  "She ain't the only one."

  Will's mouth dropped open. "You, too? Since when? I thought you were proud of me. You've always been supportive."

  "And I always will be, because this is your choice. But if you'd ever asked for my opinion, I'd have told you what I thought."

  Will swallowed the lump in his throat. "I'm asking now."

  "A man's dream and a boy's dream ain't the same. When you were fired up to buy that dang yellow truck, I thought you were out of your gourd, but I kept my mouth shut. I figured it showed the world what a success you were. But next time you go car shopping, you'll pick with your head, not your ego."

  Will smiled. Gramps had that right.

  "You went into rodeo, Will, partly because it's what your daddy did, partly because you're damn good at it. But bull riding is a demanding life and even the best-- and I'm including you in that list--know when to get out."

  "Are you saying I'm too old for this?"

  "Nope. I'm saying it's time you sold that yellow truck."

  "And hang up my spurs."

  A.J. was quiet a moment. "Not necessarily. You can wear those spurs around the Silver Rose. Might impress the guests."

  "Are you asking me to stay here and work for you?"

  "No. I don't think that would work. You're your own man, always have been. What I'm asking is that you move home and take over for me. Permanent."

  Will leaned forward and put his elbows on the desk. He rested his head in his hand. "Where would you---"

  "We got eight cabins. I think I'd be happy in one of 'em."

  Relief flooded over him--Gramps was thinking about retiring, not selling out. "You don't think we'd butt heads if we tried to run this place together?" he asked, wondering why the idea didn't strike him as ridiculous.

  "You got a hard head. Don't suppose running the Silver Rose will be any more dangerous than doing a Humpty-Dumpty off a bull."

  Will smiled. "Good point." He'd enjoyed his summer, but was he ready to give up life on the circuit? His friends? His career? Although he had to admit fewer and fewer of his contemporaries were still riding professionally.

  His income was another issue. The lure of million-dollar "shoot-outs" and bonuses from corporate sponsors wasn't something to shake a stick at, but Will hadn't added much to the bank lately. And if he got hurt again, his savings might go for long-term treatment.

  But what about your dream? a stubborn voice asked. At the edge of his consciousness, Will heard an answer. What good is winning if Anne isn't there?

  "Gramps, I'll admit the thought has crossed my mind, especially since Anne came into the picture. But I've been a nomad so long I'm not sure I can settle down. Maybe I'm too much like my dad. Footloose and--"

  "Now, hold it right there, boy. I don't want to make you feel bad, but the truth is you don't know squat about your daddy. You were just a little tyke when he passed away. And it's pretty clear to me that you got certain things mixed up in your mind." He coughed. "It hurts me to say this about my own son, but John wasn't the hero you've always made him out to be. He was a troubled young man who made rash decisions, ran away from responsibility, and...hid from his troubles in a bottle."

  That old memory of the funeral came back to him. "Was he drunk when he died?"

  "It's possible. We'll never know for sure. There were a few beer cans in the wreckage, but the sheriff was a friend of mine. He didn't ask for an autopsy. We both agreed your grandmother couldn't have handled the results if it showed Johnny was drunk when the crash happened." He cleared his throat again. "Doesn't much matter, anyway. He was driving too fast--they could tell that from the skid marks. He wasn't thinking about what might come from it if something happened to him. How much his mother would suffer. How much his little boy would miss him. That his son might grow up thinking he had to fill his daddy's shoes. Follow his daddy's dream. Even if it killed him."

  Tears burned behind Will's eyes. "Is that what you think I've been doing, Gramps? Living my father's life?"

  A.J. didn't answer right away. "I don't know, son. I'm an old man. You and Annie and Zoey are the only kin I've got left. All I know for sure is that I'd be a lot happier about coming home if I thought there was a chance we might be more of a family."

  Will felt as if he was being torn in two. Anne and A.J. on one side of the tug-of-war rope, his lifelong dream on the other. "I'll give your offer some thought, Gramps, but I can't promise anything. Especially where Anne is concerned. She's got her life pretty well planned out."

  "That's our, Annie," A.J. said with a chuckle. "Like I said, I'm starting for home, but I got a whole country to cross, so you all can use the time to think about what you want to do. If you decide to give bull riding one more shot, you'll have my support. Just like always. If you decide to stay at the Silver Rose, then we'll make it official and put your name on the deed. Same goes for Anne."

  "Thank you, Gramps. For everything."

  There was a funny, muffled sound, like a man using a handkerchief while juggling a receiver. A few seconds later, his grandfather mumbled goodbye, then the connection ended.

  Will hung up then quickly called Anne's number. There was no answer. H
e didn't leave a message.

  He rose. He needed to ride. Clear his head. Do a little soul-searching. He was almost to the foyer when the phone rang. He paused and listened to the answering machine. If it was A.J. again..."Will? Are you there? This is Anne. It's Zoey..."

  Will raced back to pick it up. "Anne," he cried. "What happened?"

  "Zoey had an asthma attack. A bad one."

  He closed his eyes, remembering all too vividly Zoey's desperate breathing that first morning. "What caused it?"

  "A...a combination of things," she said, her voice strained and whispery. "Not enough sleep. I'm not completely clear on whether or not she took her pills. She might have used a feather pillow, even though her regular pillow was in her backpack. Plus, there was something about a dog..."

  Will sensed she wasn't telling him everything."Where are you? I'll be right there?"

  "That's not necessary. I just wanted to tell you--"

  "Anne," Will snapped. "Where are you?"

  She gave him the name of an urgent-care clinic he'd noticed on his drive to the airport.

  "I'll be there in twenty minutes."

  Anne blamed herself. If she'd been paying attention instead of thinking about her own problems--her feelings for Will--this wouldn't have happened.

  She bit down on the end of the pen she was using to fill out the insurance papers for the treatment center Linda had recommended. "My kids are regulars there," her friend had said. She'd followed Anne to the car with Zoey's overnight bag and Anne's purse. Anne's arms had been occupied with her limp, whimpering daughter.

  Linda had tried to apologize, but Anne hadn't had time to listen. Nor was any apology necessary. None of this would have happened if Anne had been more observant and less self-absorbed.

  This attack was her wake-up call. For as long as Zoey was living under Anne's roof, Anne needed to make her daughter's health and well-being her top priority. Two months of relative calm had lulled her into a false sense of security. Today proved how fast an asthma attack could demolish their fragile harmony.

  She needed to get Zoey home to their apartment where Anne could monitor the little girl's meds, diet, and rest more closely. Anne had let her guard down for one night and look what had happened.

  "Anne?"

  Her heart jumped against her rib cage.

  Will hurried across the institutional carpeting. Why would anyone put carpeting in a medical facility? Don't they know about allergies?

  "Anne. Oh, God, I was afraid I'd go out of my head before I got here." He reached down and pulled her out of her chair and into his arms before she could react. "How is she? Can I see her?"

  Anne's senses warred. One part wanted to crawl into the comfort he offered; the other wanted to run out of the building screaming. She shook her head. "She's with a respiratory therapist."

  He held her at arm's length and studied her. "You look like a strong wind could blow you to Canada. Let's sit down."

  She didn't have the energy to protest--to do the right thing and send him away.

  He took the chair beside her. He was still in the clothes he'd worn to her room last night. She couldn't look at his buttons without remembering, so she stared blankly at the papers in her lap.

  "Sweetheart, are you okay?" he asked. "Can I get you something? Water? Tea? A stiff drink?"

  She almost smiled. It occurred to her that she hadn't eaten all day. And after an energetic night like last night... Anne took a deep breath, drawing on her reserves. She wasn't needy or pathetic. "I'll be fine. Something like this always takes the wind out of your sails. It's so difficult to see your child blue and limp."

  He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and hugged her again. "I heard about it from Linda. She called a minute after you hung up. Wanted to know if I had any news."

  Linda was a good friend. Anne was going to miss her.

  "She feels terrible. Blames herself for not checking to make sure Zoey took her medication this morning. And for letting the kids play tag. She said she should have--"

  "It wasn't her fault," Anne said. "It was mine."

  He gave her a questioning look. "If Zoey didn't take her medicine, I'd say some of the responsibility falls on her shoulders, wouldn't you?"

  Anne looked at him sharply. "She's only eight."

  "Nine," he corrected. "She's nine. And she's lived with this condition all her life. She knows what's good for her and what isn't, doesn't she?"

  He had a point, but that didn't absolve Anne of her blame. "The meds are important, and she should have had her fast-acting inhaler close by, but the real reason we're here is me."

  "How so?"

  Anne sank back into the chair and sighed. "I was distracted. When I got to Linda's, my mind was on--well, you. I wasn't listening to Zoey."

  "To her breathing?"

  "To what she was telling me. Apparently Linda's son stole her hat and Zoey had to chase him through the neighbor's yard where this black Lab puppy lives. She stopped to pet the dog and..."

  Anne took a deep breath. She hoped that what her mother had always told her about confession being good for the soul was true. "I blew it, Will. When I heard the part about the dog, I looked at her and saw that her cheeks were flushed and her breath was raspy. I grabbed her by the shoulders and said, 'You chased after a boy instead of thinking about your health?'"

  Will winced.

  "See? Stupid, huh? I embarrassed her in front of her friends. This never would have happened in New York."

  "Why? There aren't boys in New York?"

  Tears filled her eyes. "She doesn't have any friends there."

  "Oh, Anne," he said, his voice softened with sympathy. "That isn't true and you know it. Zoey has a good life because you're a wonderful mother, but even the best mom snaps once in a while. Nobody's perfect."

  She wished she deserved his support.

  "Besides, Linda told me to tell you that the other kids didn't hear a thing. They were arguing over something else by then." He squeezed her shoulders. "Sweetheart, they're kids. They have the attention span of gnats. Nobody is going to remember this."

  "Except Zoey."

  "She's the most resilient child I've ever met. She'll be fine."

  Anne wanted to believe him, but she didn't.

  "Hey," he said, giving her a smile. "A.J. called. He's on his way back." His voice dropped. "He said everything went fine. It wasn't easy, but Gramps said it was just the way Esther would have wanted it.”

  Anne touched his arm. She knew he'd loved her mother, too.

  "Maybe this isn't the right time to bring it up, Anne, but Gramps wants us to think about taking over the Silver Rose permanently."

  "Us? Will, there is no us."

  "There could be."

  Anne jumped to her feet. "How? Even if I could get out of my contract and abandon my career, my dreams, I have Zoey to consider. Her future, her health--"

  "Which has been excellent," he interjected. "Except for this one time, which you just admitted was caused by extenuating circumstances. Zoey's been doing great. You can't use her health as an excuse."

  "Is that what you think I'm doing? Well, you're wrong. Allergies aside, there are still emotional precursors like stress and worry that come into play with certain types of asthma. Zoey is especially sensitive to emotional trauma."

  She didn't know how to say what she feared without sounding morbid. "Will, I'm not the only one who loves you. Zoey hangs on your every word. She follows you around like a lamb. What happens to her when you go back to bull riding? What if the next time you hit the ground wrong you don't get up?"

  He wove his fingers together in his lap and looked down. "A.J. wants me to quit, too. Maybe, I should."

  Anne closed her eyes. Was that what she was waiting to hear? If so, why did she feel so empty inside?

  Neither spoke for a minute, then Anne said, "Will, this is one of those proverbial no-win situations. I figured that out while I was driving to Linda's. It's why I was so upset that I missed all the si
gns leading up to Zoey's attack."

  "What do you mean?"

  "To put it bluntly, if you continue to ride, there is no us--for all the reasons we already talked about. If you give up bull riding and move to the Silver Rose, there'll come a time when you look at me and Zoey and realize that we're the reason you gave up your dream."

  He snorted, but she put her hand on his shoulder and said, "Believe me, Will, I know what I'm talking about. People don't just change because you want them to. They don't give up their dreams without suffering some major consequences down the road."

  "You're talking about your ex-husband, not me."

  "I remember my mother telling me once that if you learned anything from your mistakes, it was not to make the same mistake twice. I didn't listen to Barry when he said he didn't want children. I thought my dream was big enough to sweep him into the picture. I was wrong and we all paid a price."

  The flatness in Anne's voice broke Will's heart. Not for the first time, he wished her bastard ex-husband would drop by for a little ass-wupping. "Anne, I promise you, if I--"

  A woman in a nurse's uniform approached them. "Mrs. Fraser?"

  Anne lifted her head. Will kept his arm around her shoulders when she turned to face the nurse. "Yes?"

  "Zoey is all done. She's tired and a bit cranky but breathing well. Her blood/oxygen level is back to the normal range. The doctor wants her to spend forty minutes on oxygen then you can take her home." She pointed toward the hall. "You can sit with her, if you want, but she's watching a video and resting if you want to wait. It's better if she doesn't talk."

  "Yes, I know. We've been through this before. Thank you."

  Her knees seemed to buckle and he used the excuse to pull her closer. "Have you eaten?"

  It took a minute before she shook her head.

  Will cursed softly. "There's a deli across the street. Come on. You heard the woman. Zoey is fine, but you're a basket case. And I won't let you near the steering wheel if you don't eat something first."

  She ate half a bowl of soup while Will polished off a Reuben sandwich. They didn't talk. He could tell the letdown from the intensely emotional drama--and their intensely amorous night--was taking a toll.