And then, he saw her.
K.C.? I must be hallucinating. That girl looks just like K.C.
Chay limped out through the passageway, forgetting to hear his score until someone patted him on the shoulder with a ‘well done, Ridgway.’ He unbuckled his chaps, wondering whether he could peek out and see her again.
K.C.? It couldn’t be. Could it? Naw….
* * *
It felt to K.C. as if her heart had stopped as she watched in horror as the pickup men tried to pry Chay loose from his bronco. Man and rider kept going up and down, round and round for what seemed like hours until they were able to grab him off. Then, on top of everything, the dang bronco kicked back into the pickup man’s horse, which lost its footing with Chay on it, plus it looked as if Chay might have got the brunt of the kick. He looked unsteady on his feet as they cleared the bronco out and let him down. He received his hat from one of the men and bowed, coming up with his eyes spot on her. Probably couldn’t see her in that crowd, but it was unnerving.
To her right were a bunch of young kids, tourists’ children who didn’t understand everything going on and kept asking their parents endless questions—‘why do the other men have to take him off the horse, Mommy?’ On her other side was a very large man whose hand moved like an automaton from a carton of popcorn to his mouth and back again. K.C. ignored them—she felt a wave of nausea mixed with fear for Chay. Was he hurt bad? Could he walk? Would this affect his ranch work? Should she go back and see him?
She considered leaving now but she figured he would stay to see his friends ride, and knowing him, wouldn’t seek any more medical help than maybe a quick visit to the medics here. Her first thought was she’d wait until the end so she wouldn’t disturb other patrons, but she decided to apologize and inch her way out. Down at the backside of the stands, she tried to lose herself in the throng who had left, viewing the souvenir counters, buying hot dogs or popcorn, or just milling about. A distraught mother yanked a child along in a brisk march toward the rest rooms, and a group of three cowboys was laughing over something until they spotted K.C. and tried to size her up. She moved away and stood back under the overhang of the seating, the smell of fries and horse manure mingling.
And then she saw him. If it could be said he was sauntering with a limp, that was what he was doing. He stopped for a second, adjusted his hat, and was just about to start off again when a girl ran over to him. Long blond hair swished from under a cowgirl hat, her lithe body costumed in a fancy western shirt with a fringe hanging from the sleeves, and jeans with diamante on the rear pockets, while ostrich boots poked out from the bottoms.
“Chayyyy,” she drawled. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”
Chay’s arm went around the girl and he gave her a broad smile.
K.C. stepped back further so she was well out of sight. Lightness overcame her, close to a swoon, but she caught her breath. She did not want to be seen. Not here, not now. She swiveled away as they walked past, arms around each other.
K.C. heard his voice, a cheerful note, contented.
“My place or yours, darlin’?”
CHAPTER TEN
Chay stared at his telephone trying to resist its magnetic pull. It proved futile.
“Is K.C. back? Is she there, is she working there? Have you seen her?”
“Well, and hello to you, too. ‘How ya doin’, Breezy?’ Well, Chay, I’m just fine; how ’bout yourself? Long time no—”
“She’s there, isn’t she? I thought I was hallucinating—first in the stands at the rodeo, then today across the street in town, going into the Post Office. It’s her, isn’t it? I see your hand in this, Breezy—you got her to come back, you’re trying to get us back together, you’re—”
“Now, you just wait a cotton pickin’ minute, Chay Ridgway. I did no such thing. You think I phoned up K.C. and told her to come on from New York? You’re even dumber than I thought.”
“Yeah, I’m dumb. So who told her to come back here? What is she doing here?” Chay paced the length of his kitchen and back again. A cup of coffee sat cooling on the counter and every time he looked at it, he felt like grabbing the bottle of Jack and throwing some in.
“Now you listen to me, young man, and you listen good. No one had to tell K.C. Daniels to come on back here. It’s always been her intention to come on back and you know it. She wrote to Bob and asked for her old job once more for the summer, while she looks around for a teaching post in Wyoming or figures out what else she wants to do. She said all she knew about her future was she wanted to remain out west and coming here was the one way she could think to start. No one ever mentioned you, hot shot, and we—Bob and I—certainly aren’t in the business of meddling in other people’s lives.”
“What?!” Chay’s mouth hung open in disbelief. He stopped in his tracks and looked at the phone as if it were guilty of lying. “That’s a hot one! You were the one who had my whole life sorted out when she left the first time: ‘go to New York, Chay, we’ll rent out your ranch house, lease the pasture to the Bantries, stay for two years, finish your high school diploma, I’ll look after everything.’”
“And you agreed. It’s not my fault you loused up everything and came home.”
“What?!” Chay walked to the counter and emptied the coffee down the drain. He grabbed the bottle of Jack off the shelf and, putting the phone down for a minute, unscrewed the top and tipped some of the amber liquid into his cup, shot it back, and poured some more. Not having the phone on speaker, he could just about make out what Breezy was saying.
“…I was trying to help. The two of you are so gaga in love you can’t think straight, and you can’t figure out how to be together and be happy. I never seen a couple of crazies like the two of you.”
Chay started tapping his foot in a nervous pulse as he took the phone back up, but with just his socks on, it was more a pat. “Love doesn’t always conquer all, Breezy. I can’t possibly give her all the things she’s used to—”
“Did she ever say she wanted all those things? No. K.C. is a sensible gal; she knows what matters in life and that’s what she wants.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I’m a damn good judge of character, that’s how. And because I’ve had several long talks with her. She came back to Wyoming to live here. With you. Or without you. You decide!” And with that, the phone went silent.
Another shot of whiskey down, he rang her back.
“You know I been seeing Lisa Stanford; does K.C. know that?”
“She saw you at the rodeo, which is why she didn’t go over.”
“Shit.”
“Listen. I doubt she expected you to remain celibate since you left, but it hurt her. Now…I’m not gonna get involved with this anymore ’cept to say I think you ought to see her, talk things through and sort it out. Two of you will be miserable the rest of your lives if you don’t give it one more try. ’Course, if that’s what you want, so be it. I’m not getting involved.”
Chay bit his lip as he contemplated his next move.
“Ah. She’s just pulled in out front…. Now she’s gathering some packages from the pickup and heading into her bunkhouse.”
“Is she alone? I mean is she alone in the bunkhouse as well as alone right now.”
“She’s alone. Time to make your move, smart ass.”
And with that, the phone went dead.
* * *
K.C. heard the screech of tires, the wail of brakes, and the all too familiar slam of the pickup cab’s door, which never closed and needed to be re-shut. She froze as she heard the thumping limp on the front porch and pondered if she should rush to lock the door. But there was no lock and no time. The screen door whined open and, instead of a knock on the interior door, there was the stomp of Chay’s boots until he stood there facing her, thumbs latched in belt, hat on head, scowl on face. After nothing more than a pause he grabbed her arm.
“Get your coat. Get a jacket. We’re going for a ride.”
�
��What? What are you talking about? I can smell whiskey on your breath!”
“Sorry! But we’re not talking here and you know damn well we need to talk. I’m not having Breezy or anyone else mooching about, K.C., peering through the dang office window as she’s doing right now.”
K.C. glanced out the bunkhouse window and thought she may have spotted Breezy just ducking out of sight.
“It doesn’t matter,” she retorted. “She’s not coming in and she can’t hear us.” At last, she snatched her arm free and her hands found her hips. She gazed at him, the old electricity running through her as if a switch had been flicked. Aside from a new scratch or two visible on his chin, he appeared exactly the same as the day he’d stopped in the apartment doorway and nodded his good-bye. “Say what you need to say,” she muttered, “and get out.”
“Say what you need to say? Good title for a song, K.C. Maybe you should take up song-writing now you’ve moved to Wyoming.”
“I didn’t know there were constraints on New Yorkers moving to Wyoming, Chay. Was I supposed to report in to you, show a passport, a work permit, what?”
“No, but it’s a mite suspicious, don’t you think?” He started walking around in a random pattern, as if he were inspecting the bunkhouse for the first time. “I mean, if you want to move west, why not Montana? New Mexico is nice I hear. Plenty of jobs in California. And beautiful Colorado with all the great skiing. But no, you not only decide to move to Wyoming, you decide to move straight into my backyard. How’s that? That doesn’t seem a bit odd to you? A mite suspicious?”
“I know this area, Chay. I like this area—it is a very particular part of the state right next to Yellowstone and the Tetons, different from the high plains further east. And it was the easiest job to get, writing to Bob and asking, something I knew I could do for the summer by the end of which I hope I’ll have sorted out my life.”
“Sorted out your life, hmm.” Chay’s hands were back on his hips as he shook his head in compliance and glanced around as if there were someone who would agree with him. “And I guess ‘sorting out your life’ didn’t include me, did it? You were just going to move on in, go through the summer, hope you never bumped into me, and ‘get on with your life.’ Is that it?”
“No, that isn’t it, and you know it.” K.C. picked up one of the parcels she’d dropped on her bed and started unpacking it as if Chay weren’t there. Putting away new socks, a wooly hat, a Jackson Hole sweatshirt.
Chay reached out and grabbed her hand to stop the effort to ignore him. “Are you going to talk to me? Are we going to have this out?” He pulled her around by the wrist to face him. “I’m going to ask you one more time: why are you here?”
“And I’m telling you one more time, I’m here because I want to live here. That decision is separate from anything between you and me.” She yanked her hand free and swiveled back to her purchases. “You can get on with your life with your rodeo queen, Chay; don’t worry about me,” she mumbled.
Chay stomped his good foot. “Right! Have it your way, if that’s the way you want it.”
And the door slammed behind him.
For hours, K.C. went through the entire scenario in her mind trying to figure what had happened. Did he want her to say she had come back for him? Was he saying he wanted her, to be included in her life? What the heck had happened?
That map of Australia on the ticking of the upper bunk’s mattress didn’t give her the answer. As she drifted in and out of sleep that night, it became Breezy’s face looking at her, brows raised in question over dinner, being sorry for her, apologizing. And it became Chay, angry with her for coming back into his life.
Chay.
They had to have it out. Once and for all.
* * *
“Jeez, can you sit up please. Your head is heavy and you’re hurting my leg.”
Lisa Stanford curled herself forward and pivoted to look at Chay. “Boy oh boy. You sure are grumpy for someone who had good winnings last Saturday. What the heck’s got into you?”
Chay threw his head back against the couch and took a breath. “Nothing’s got into me, Lisa. I’m in pain is all, and you’re not helping.” He picked up a cushion and played with it in his hands, round and round, corner to corner. Without warning, he pushed himself to his feet and grabbed his hat off a chair. “Your parents will be home from their dinner out soon. I’ve got to go.”
“You can stay and see them, you know. They don’t bite.”
“I know but—" Chay glanced down at the floor and bit his lip. He knew what he had to do but he didn’t like the idea of hurting the sweet twenty year old. “Listen,” he started, trying to find words that wouldn’t bruise a girl’s ego. “I…uh….”
“Oh, here we go! The famous Ridgway shove-off. What are you going to say, Chay? ‘I really like you but….’ ‘I’m so much older than you.’ Or is it just a plain old, ‘I’ve met someone else’?”
Chay let out a breath and swirled his hat around in his hands. He sat down next to Lisa, the hat still turning as he stared at the floor, his mouth bunched into misery. “The girl…the woman I was living with in New York is here. And it’s not fair to you—or to her—to keep seeing you until I sort things out with her.”
“You’re still in love with her.” Lisa’s voice was flat and to the point. It wasn’t a question because there was no question Chay was in love with ‘her’.
Another deep breath. “Yes. No. I guess so. I don’t know.” He glanced across at her and laughed. “It’s complicated.” His hat spun some more as he considered what had been said when he had met up with K.C. What an idiot he’d been. He’d had no idea, absolutely no idea what he was saying, he was just so overcome when he saw her, he could have thrown her on the bed and just made love to her straight off. Instead, in his jumbled mind, he’d gone and messed things up.
Finally, Lisa offered, “And I’m just a further complication I guess.”
“Yah.” A heavy silence was broken by one of Lisa’s dogs pawing at the door and whining.
“Go away Smokey, get lost!” Lisa scowled and tilted to Chay. “Look, just go. I’d like to say I understand but obviously I don’t, and I’m mad as all get-out, so just go, will you? Just go.”
Chay got up and set his hat on his head. “Listen, if things—”
“Don’t you dare say it, Chay Ridgway, don’t you dare. I’m not playing second fiddle to anybody, least of all someone you’re so in love with. Just go, will you, get the hell out of here.”
Chay nodded and let himself out, limping down the front steps of the Stanford house to his pickup. For a while, he leaned against the truck, his mind a blur of thoughts. He hadn’t been with K.C. for over a year and a half now but he knew his feelings hadn’t changed, his body still responded to the sight of her, he still yearned for her touch, longed to hear her voice, sense her skin on skin, feel her moving in time with him.
As he turned to open the door to the truck, a pain shot up his calf that burned the inside of his leg. Chay crumpled trying to move through it but he knew he was in trouble. He’d had broken bones and bruises before, but never like this. He tried to straighten but the pain was getting worse and he thought he might pass out if he tried to drive.
“Lisa!” His voice rang out with a croak. “Lisa!”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
K.C. thought she had never driven so fast in her life, shooting down route eighty-nine, praying the elk grazing by the side of the road wouldn’t suddenly decide to bolt across. In the traffic of Jackson, she had no idea where the hospital was, but her phone spoke out with directions. The antler arches of the town square blurred in her peripheral vision as she drove past. She parked the ranch truck, and as she turned to the building, she could see the blond rodeo girl pacing outside, pulling on a cigarette, and flicking the ashes away in a nervous rhythm.
“Breezy told me you’d phoned and Chay is in the hospital. Is it bad? What’s happened?” Torn between punching the girl and thanking her for getting Chay
here, she pinched her own face in to stop herself from crying.
“Who the hell are you?”
The girl’s antagonism hurt, not only because K.C. felt this was not the time for it, but because it appeared Chay had never mentioned her. K.C. sniffed back the tears. “I’m…I’m his ex, I guess. Look, can we put this aside and just tell me what the doctor said? I don’t even know your name, sorry.”
The girl struck a pose and threw the cigarette down, stamping it out before answering. “Lisa. You ask the doctor what’s happening to Chay; he wouldn’t tell me. ‘Not family’.”
K.C. started for the door when Lisa spoke to her back, her voice bitter. “He may lose his leg, you know. That’s what I heard.”
K.C. didn’t turn to look at her. As the automatic door opened with a pneumatic wheeze, the smell of disinfectant and pure alcohol hit her. She marched right through and up to the desk. “I’m…I’m K.C. Ridgway. I understand my husband’s here.”
The attendant sitting there looked up with such wide-eyed surprise, K.C. almost laughed. “You’re Chay Ridgway’s wife?” She sat there tapping a pen. In reply to K.C.’s nod, she just said, “I’ll inform the doctor you’re here.” She slipped down from her stool, then spun back to K.C. with a smirk. “Shall I tell…your husband you’re here as well?”
K.C. glared at her for a moment, so on edge she’d forgotten that she’d lied. “Yes, yes, tell him please.”
Seconds stretched into minutes in what seemed like hours before a doctor appeared as K.C. paced the waiting area. Without any introduction, arms folded across his chest, he began, “Interesting, none of us knew Chay was married. He listed an uncle in Dubois as next of kin when he checked in. You know, in a small town like Jackson, even with its surrounding area, most everyone knows everyone else’s business. And you take someone like the Ridgways who’ve been here for generations, and in particular someone like Chay who’s such a local…well, I’d say ‘character’ but others might say ‘hero’, well, I think if he’d been married we’d all know.”
City Boy, Country Heart: Contemporary Western Romance (Heart of the Boy Book 2) Page 8