Family Matters (The Travers Brothers Series): The Travers Brothers Series

by Rita Hestand

"A while. That kid over there is a natural. Watch him ride."

  "Is he as good as you?"

  "Probably better," Clint said, not bothering to look at her.

  "Why'd you quit, Clint?" Abby asked, as Clay settled himself between them.

  "Does it matter?" He queried, his voice drifting off as he stared into her face.

  "N-no, I don't guess so."

  "Watch this little fella, Clay. He's drawn a real mean buckaroo."

  Clay watched in fascination as Clint glanced back at Abby. His smile faded a little, "Maybe I grew up."

  Abby's mouth fell open, but she didn't know what to say to that. She hadn't expected him to sound so serious, nor look so forlorn.

  The way he stared at her mouth had her flustered. He looked as though he wanted to kiss her, and she didn't know what to say or do, because at that instant she wanted him to. But that was pure insanity, she quickly realized, as she shook herself and looked away.

  Wet dirt flew at them as the rider rode by in a flurry, and Clay hollered with glee. He stood up and yelled, "Ride ‘em, cowboys".

  All during the rodeo, Clint explained a lot of different things to Clay, and Clay absorbed it like a sponge. Abby watched the two of them and marveled at how easily Clay picked things up that Clint said.

  Part of her heart went out to Clint. If she let herself, she could easily feel sorry for him. But she could no longer afford to. Clint wasn't part of their life, and wouldn't be. He was temporary, and that kept her sanity intact.

  Being this close, smelling that sweet hay and clover from him, feeling the touch of his rough hands every now and then as they put them on the bench too close together, it was hard to remember. What woman could be immune to Clint when he turned on the charm?

  But the bull riding event seemed to disturb Clay. He got very quiet, and when a cowboy fell, Clay ran from the bleachers.

  Abby stared at Clint, and then it dawned, "You died on a bull!" She said, her eyes rounding on him.

  "Let me handle this," Clint began, and seeing the angry flash of her eyes, he studied her a moment. "Trust me, Abby. I don't want to see him hurt, either."

  With that, Abby nodded as Clint took off after Clay. He found him on the other side of the hot dog stand, crying. Clint looked at him, from head to toe, the way he stood there, holding that hat in hand, gripping it. It reminded him of himself.

  "Hey, pardner."

  "Hey," Clay swiped his eyes with the back of his shirt sleeve, and turned his face away so Clint couldn’t see him crying.

  "I forgot about the bulls. But look, your dad dying on a bull was an accident. It could have been a car, a plane, a train. He wouldn't want you to be upset. I'm sure he loved the rodeo."

  Clay glanced at Clint, his hat being silently mutilated as he tried to control his tears.

  "How do you know he loved it?"

  "'Cause most cowboys do, son. It's like it's in the blood. It's kinda hard to explain."

  "You think I have it in my blood, too?"

  "I don't know, maybe."

  "I liked everything but the bulls."

  "Well, now, that's a relief. You had your mom worried, pardner.”

  Clay turned around and stared at Clint. “Did you know my dad?"

  Clint was on eggshells now, and knew his answer was important to Clay. "Yes, I—knew him."

  "What was he like?"

  Clint started twisting his own hat. He leaned against the hot dog stand, a frown lining his face. "He was a likeable kind of man, I suppose."

  "Did you like him?"

  Clint felt his stomach roll. Did he like himself? "In his time, he was a top rodeo man." Clint answered.

  "Did he like Mommy?"

  "He sure did, more than she'll ever know."

  "Mommy’s gonna marry John.”

  “Yeah,” Clint sighed heavily. “I know. He sounds like a pretty nice fella."

  “You like him, then?”

  Clint thought about that for a long moment. “I don’t know. I've never met him, myself.”

  Clint pushed his hat back and studied the ground. This was sensitive territory, and he wasn’t sure how to talk to him about it. Maybe he shouldn’t be talking to him at all about this, but he had felt some kind of pull toward the boy when he saw him so upset. He wanted to set things right for him.

  “I think I like you better,” Clay said hesitantly.

  Clint’s throat seemed to choke him. If ever he wanted to reach out to a kid, it was now. But what was best for Clay? He suddenly realized that being a father meant doing what was best for the child, not himself, and that left him speechless.

  “I like you, too, pardner. Now, let’s go find Mommy.” He reached his hand out for Clay, but instead Clay ran and hugged him. Clint took the seriousness of the moment and turned it into play. He picked Clay up and carried him on top of his shoulders. Right now, he felt like a kid too, about ten feet tall.

  “Hey, I can see everything from here,” Clay laughed. "I'm taller than anyone else, Uncle Clint."

  “Good, which way to Mommy?” Clint asked with a chuckle.

  “That way,” he pointed, and then bent down so Clint could see.

  The rest of the evening passed with no incidents, but Clint was a lot quieter. He realized he carried the feelings of this tot with him wherever he went. And the responsibility was enormous.

  Stuffed with foot long hot dogs and cotton candy, Clay fell asleep on the way home. Abby pulled him to her, and let his head rest in her lap. She pushed back his hair, and smiled down at him.

  "He's a sweet little fella," Clint finally said when the silence got too much.

  "I know. Kids look like angels when they sleep."

  "I hadn't been around many kids until Sammie Jo came along. They sure can steal your heart fast."

  Abby glanced at him as though his revelation shocked her. She could see from his expression when he gazed at his son that it was happening here.

  "So, tell me about—those years, Abby. What I missed." Clint's voice sounded husky.

  "What do you want to know, Clint?" Abby glanced at him curiously. She guessed he had a right to know the details, although she wasn't at all sure she should go there.

  "Did you have a hard time, delivering him? Any complications or anything."

  "No, not really. I mean the usual twelve hours or so, but nothing out of the ordinary. Doctor said I've got good hips for having children."

  "You sure do have that, little lady."

  Abby again looked at him, hoping her blush was concealed by the darkness.

  Clint shot her a look, his eyes going over her thoroughly as though memorizing her. "I'm glad. I guess you and this John fella plan on having a bunch of kids, huh?"

  Abby flushed. John avoided talking about more children. She was reasonably sure he didn’t want a big family, so she didn’t pressure him. She had Clay, after all. "We haven't talked about it much."

  She half smiled, wondering what other questions he might have. Surely it wouldn't hurt to tell him about his son—just a little.

  "Were you alone? When Clay was born …"

  When she studied him with disdain he explained, "I mean, did you have your folks there with you?"

  "My grandmother was with me," She replied with a deep sigh.

  "Good."

  He pulled into the long driveway, and as he neared the house, he stopped.

  "Don't torture yourself, Clint. Nothing really bad happened. It wasn't your fault. I had family with me. Everything went alright. He was very healthy," she said, and almost reached out to him, but thinking better of it, pulled away.

  "I want to be a part of his life, Abby," Clint said very quietly.

  "You can't. No more than this," Abby explained, and started to get out of the truck.

  Out of the blue, he leaned over toward her, "Why do you wear your hair like that?" His hand reached to smooth a tendril that wouldn't behave.

  "I always wear it like this—" she inched away. "At the office. Habit, I guess."

/>   He nodded and smiled. "You used to wear it down, or in a braid. I like it down."

  "I don't think braids are very becoming in an office." She gasped. He'd never talked to her like this before. So personal, and all about her. What was wrong with him?

  Why had he let the conversation go this way?

  "You have beautiful hair," he whispered, leaning again. "You’re a beautiful woman Abby, in more ways than one. You know, when Emma first came to the ranch, as Deke's so called "cook", she was as nervous as a cat about being a mom. Of course, Sammie Jo was sorta adopted. So Emma was a real green horn at the job. But she loved that little tyke, and I think we sorta grew on her a little, too."

  "Oh, really? I didn't know that. She seems to really fit into your family. I'm very happy for Deke. Which reminds me. I talked with an old friend the other day, Roberta Townsend. She made mention that you don't date these days. Why is that?"

  "Everyone took to them right away. Sammie Jo has us wrapped around her finger, and she knows it."

  "She's a doll, and not a lot older than Clay. Now do you want to answer my question?"

  "No, but don't tell her that. She thinks she knows everything ‘cause she just turned four. And no, I don't want to answer your question."

  "Thanks. Well, goodnight, Clint," she reached for the door handle, but his hand was there first, and the touch of that hand sent fire through her like she'd never expected.

  Did her heart jump out of her chest? She wanted to reach out and grab it. This was only temporary insanity.

  He was so close she could feel his breath trail over her face. She held her breath as she spoke.

  "Don't kiss me, Clint," She whispered.

  "Why not? I've been wanting to all evening."

  "Because, you are not courting me. Besides, it confuses me. I’ve already got my mind made up, and you aren’t part of my future, Clint."

  "I'm not," his mouth seemed to hover above hers, his eyes searching her face.

  "No," she barely uttered, holding on to what breath she had left.

  "Well darlin', it sure as hell seems like I am," he murmured as his mouth touched hers questioningly. When she didn't resist or pull away, he sighed heavily, and consumed her lips with his own.

  Fire, her mind went on alert. Fire, her heart fluttered as his kiss barely deepened. Then he pulled away, leaving her dazed and confused by his actions.

  He wasn't seducing her, her mind screamed. She wouldn’t allow it. She knew better.

  Naturally, her mind spun, he was in total control, while she was too dazed not to react. He was a master at seduction, always had been. She'd known it from the start, and dreamed of it for a lifetime. Clint Travers was dangerously lethal with his kisses.

  "Goodnight, darlin'. I'll see you in the morning," he said, and got out of the truck, carried Clay inside to his bed, tipped his hat to her, and left before she could utter one word in reply.

  Good grief, Clint Travers had swept her off her feet!

  * * *

  "Well, cowboy, how'd it go?" Emma smiled as she let Clay in the back door late that same evening.

  Clint sent her a crooked smile, took his hat off, ran his fingers through his hair, and sat down at the kitchen table as Emma poured him a glass of milk and cut him a piece of cake.

  "Hardest thing I ever did was let her go tonight." He muttered miserably. "I should have just come out with it tonight and told her how I feel."

  "You can't do that."

  "Why not?"

  "It'll ruin it all. You've got to slow down, and I know this is hard for you, but be patient."

  Clint frowned and turned away from her.

  Emma chuckled as she washed the last dish in the sink. "You've got to be patient with her, Clint, or you'll lose her, for sure. This isn't going to be as easy as you might think. And you are in for a lot of torturous nights, my friend."

  "Yeah, I'm beginning to see that," Clint said with a sigh as he gulped the milk.

  "You've got to take things slower, Clint. Let her decide when she's ready. You've got to win her heart, not just her body. And I'll wager you aren't used to that." Emma laughed.

  "Are you saying I'm shallow?" Clint grumbled.

  "Not at all. But you let people think you are, don't you?"

  "Maybe."

  "Is Abby worth having?" Emma asked quite seriously, watching him curiously.

  "Yes ma'am," he smiled at her.

  "Then go slow."

  Clint nodded. "Okay, boss, so what's next?"

  "Well, there's a hayride tomorrow night. We're loading up the wagon, and gonna take some toys to the orphanage. And, of course, we're singing Christmas carols."

  Clint's brow raised a notch.

  Emma put her head together with Clint, and they talked for a long while, until Deke came into the kitchen to see what was going on. Deke shook his head.

  "Okay, that's enough of this. Come on, woman, you need your rest."

  To Emma's surprise, Deke picked her up in his arms, kissed her tenderly on the lips and winked goodnight to his brother.

  Clint finished his cake and milk, and headed back for the bunkhouse with a low growl. It was gonna be a long cold winter from the looks of things.

  Chapter Six

  "Pretty flowers, did John send them?" Judy asked the next morning as Abby sauntered into the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee. She sat down at the kitchen table, and put her socks and boots on. The floor was cold. "No, mom, Clint did," she said, as she rolled the sock down, and then slipped it over her cold feet.

  "Clint?" Judy shrieked with surprise and glee. "Yes," Abby drawled knowingly at her, "he invited Clay and me to a rodeo last night."

  "A rodeo, oh, I'll bet that was the Junior Rodeo? How nice of him to think of that. At least you and Clay didn't sit around here moping. Got to give that boy some credit, he seems to be trying to tell you something."

  "Yes, it was fun." Abby watched her closely, knowing her mother was on the verge of saying much more, and hoping she wouldn't start in on Clint again.

  "They are beautiful," her mother said, touching the petals.

  "Yes, they are." Abby glanced at the beautiful array of colors and smiled.

  "Your father used to bring me flowers like that, all mixed colors and sorts. I loved them, so."

  Abby laid her hand on her mother's shoulder.

  Trying to get that kiss out of her mind all night had left dark circles under her eyes. She shouldn't have let it.

  She shouldn't have participated. But Dear God, it had felt good, though. She had played the moment over and over in her mind all night, wishing she wouldn't, but not able to help herself.

  She shook away those thoughts quickly.

  "I thought we'd make some taffy tomorrow tonight. You know, sorta get in the Christmas spirit." Judy smiled as Clay came running into the kitchen.

  "That sounds like fun. Doesn't it, Clay?"

  "Candy, yummy," Clay cried with a big smile, and went to hug his grandmother.

  "Good, soon as you finish your chores tomorrow and get a little rest, we'll start, then. I'll need lots of help with the pulling, ya know." Judy chuckled and ruffled Clay's hair.

  "I can pull, Grandma."

  "I'll bet you can, and you'll get your chance to prove it, tomorrow night. I've got to go to the store and get some stuff first, though."

  Abby gave him a quick kiss, and stared for a long moment at her mother. "It'll be fun," she said as she headed out the door. Since she'd been home, her mother had tried in a million ways to find things to occupy Clay's time. Abby was grateful, too, if only she wouldn’t try to match-make.

  Abby didn't see Clint as she fed and watered the horses, and scolded herself for looking for him. She had to admit, it disappointed her some. She was getting used to seeing his smiling face every morning. Unlike John, Clint loved the early mornings. Like herself, he was used to getting up at the crack of dawn. As frivolous as everyone seemed to think he was, Clint was always up and at them, and taking care of t
hings at the crack of dawn.

  John, yes, John. She shook herself again; her mind should be on John, not Clint.

  However, thinking of John brought to mind his mother, and that didn't set well this morning. Being distanced from John didn't make her heart grow fonder, either, and he'd made no effort to visit her. It hurt, especially since her father had just died, and she needed some companionship and maybe a shoulder to cry on.

  She knew she could cry on Clint shoulder. Despite everything, he was still her best friend, and she knew that. But that kiss had surprised her last night. God, she'd never quit responding to the man. No matter how much she tried. And bringing her flowers, that had to be a first.

  "I guess he really is trying to court me," she said, as she brushed her horse down. She mounted and rode him into the yard. She moved in perfect timing with her horse, and relaxed. It felt good being home, even though the days were cold and harsh at times, being outside was wonderful.

  She felt the winter wind slice across her face, and reached for her thermos of coffee.

  Clint rode up in a quick gallop. Reining his horse alongside hers, he tipped his hat to her, and reached for her mug of coffee. "Mind if I have a little?"

  "No," she responded before thinking. They used to share their drinks all the time. It seemed so easy to slip back into their friendly relationship. She noted the way he held the same side to his mouth, and swallowed, his eyes never leaving hers.

  "It's a mite cold today, you better keep fastened up," he warned her, and with that said, he turned his horse away from hers.

  As though he forgot something, he reined back toward her, and came close. Her jacket had fallen open, and he reached the distance to close it, then reached up and closed her mouth that was gaping. "See ya later, darlin'."

  Then he disappeared as quickly as he had appeared.

  Abby tried not to let Clint affect her, but that was like trying to ignore a tornado bearing down on you.

  The entire day went like that. He'd appear out of nowhere, say something sweet or nice to her, and disappear. It had her baffled. It had her worried. What if she began to succumb to his charms? What if Clay did? She couldn't let Clint hurt her son like that.

  But she had never been ‘courted' by Clint, either.