by Leigh Riker
Elizabeth stiffened. She must mean Clara’s, which wasn’t true. “You didn’t need to bring those hydrangeas. You and Bernice judge other people without any props.”
Claudia gasped. “You have a perfectly good home in town, Harry’s support...and your children’s welfare to consider. Isn’t that enough?”
Maybe, for Elizabeth, it wasn’t any longer. In the nearby ring the kids were lining up for the events. Having received a quick lesson from Dallas, Jordan stood in their midst, grinning, talking a mile a minute to his best friend, Nick, Olivia’s son. Elizabeth heard a lot of laughter and friendly taunts among the other contestants. Jordan’s eyes shone, and Seth had picked a spot at the fence rail to watch, his face poking between the boards. Stella stood with him. Everyone seemed to be having a grand time today, except Elizabeth right now.
She spoke loud enough to be heard above the din coming from the arena. “I’m not going to ‘end up’ anywhere but right where I belong. Please don’t bring Harry into this again.” She took a breath. “Actually, he’s making his own plans. He’s been interviewing and, according to Jordan, has a job offer in Wichita.” Far enough away to keep out of her hair, near enough for the kids. “He’ll be spending weekends in Barren to see the children.”
“Then, if you play your cards right, you’ll have an opportunity to win him back.”
“Mother. Harry broke my heart. He betrayed me. What do you not get about that?” To make her point, she spaced out her words. “I. Don’t. Want. Him. Back. Is that clear enough? You may think I’m the loser in our breakup, but I don’t. Our marriage was never the perfect union you hoped for—” she wouldn’t stop now “—the marriage you didn’t have because Dad walked out on us when I was six years old! I never saw him again. He was a stranger to me, and he’s been gone from my life for decades, but you’re still living with that history.”
Claudia turned a paler shade of tan. Elizabeth had to hand it to her mother. She kept herself in good shape, belonging to a gym she visited regularly, getting her hair done every week, spending time in the salon’s tanning booth, which wasn’t healthy but her decision. For any age, she looked great. But she was still alone. Still bitter after all these years.
“I’m sorry to remind you of that unhappiness,” she said, “but I’ve heard enough of your rules and regulations for my behavior. Stop trying to dictate how you think I should live.”
Her mother didn’t say a word, which gave Elizabeth the strength to continue. “I need to make my own happiness, Mom. You need to find yours. You’re still a young woman.”
To her surprise, her mother almost smiled. “Youngish, perhaps.” She wasn’t taking that declaration as badly as Elizabeth had expected. Then, unable to stay silent, she sniffed again. “And you think that happiness of yours will be with...what’s his name?”
“Dallas Maguire,” Elizabeth said, certain her mother already knew that. “Yes, I more than like him, but that’s our business.” She remembered being in his arms, their kiss and her laughter, then Dallas saying they could find their way somehow. “You’ve gotten ahead of yourself. I’m not the bright-eyed girl who married Harry—and, yes, that was a lovely wedding, thank you, which I know cost you a lot, but nothing in our marriage made the term happily-ever-after apply.”
In spite of her best efforts to mend things, Harry’s affair had destroyed their marriage. As town mayor he’d subjected her to undeserved public scrutiny, at least in Elizabeth’s mind. Was it partly because of her father’s abandonment that she, like her mother, had become so fearful of such exposure, of humiliation? Dallas had even suggested she might care more about her reputation than she did about her own kids.
That wasn’t true. Worried that gossip might reach their tender ears, she’d cared more about protecting them than she did herself. And yes, some people in Barren had judged her harshly, but not all people, not her closest friends, and no one had ever said a word to hurt her children. Why hadn’t she seen that before?
At the beginning of summer, wounded in spirit, she’d taken refuge in her house not to let Bernice, now waiting for her mother in the stands, see her grief. To guess at her dalliance with Dallas on the day of her divorce. Elizabeth took full blame for that. But then she’d agreed to work with him on his rodeo—their rodeo, he always said—and in the past weeks she’d valued his friendship and rediscovered the appeal of a new relationship, which she’d tried to resist.
“You’re in love with that man,” Claudia said in an accusing tone, “which can only lead to further ruin.”
Her mother sounded like some scolding Victorian matron. Dallas deserved Elizabeth to be completely truthful, not to hide him in the darkness as she’d hidden herself.
She couldn’t know whether she and Dallas would work out, or if all he’d meant by “something more” was to share some responsibility for their baby, but she knew one thing for sure. She did love him, and she had the perfect opportunity, perhaps never to be repeated, to declare her independence from her mother. Maybe to shock her a little too.
“Yes,” she finally murmured, “I am.” She ignored the stunned, ever-disappointed-in-her look on her mother’s face. From nearby, she heard the roar of the crowd. The kids’ events had begun, and Elizabeth wanted to see for herself that Jordan was really okay. But right now she had to face what she’d been fearing for too long. She wouldn’t care about whatever outcry there might be in town when this news reached Bernice, then the rest of the local busybodies. Elizabeth had done her time in the stocks of public humiliation. She had nothing to feel ashamed about. She did, however, have an announcement to make to this audience of one. “Brace yourself, Claudia Monroe,” she began. “You’ll need to—because, actually, that’s not all. I’m expecting again. Dallas Maguire and I are having a Valentine’s Day baby.”
Ms. Perfect was no more. Let the gossip begin.
CHAPTER TWENTY
GAME ON.
Like most—if not all—bull riders, Dallas had a clock in his head. In the instant the blocky Angus broke from the chute, it twisted to the left, and the last pangs of nausea deserted Dallas. One second, he began counting. Alert to the slightest shift of the bull’s body, he corrected his balance. One arm high in the air, he settled deeper into his seat, his bull rope wrapped tight around his other, riding hand.
Dallas had drawn a good ride. This bull belonged to the Sutherland ranch, where Nell Ransom had suggested they keep the young animal for breeding stock. It was no rodeo bull—but, man, Gorgeous had gotten the hang of this. Two, ticked his inner clock. Few people, other than bull riders, could appreciate how long the full eight-second count could seem to a man on board.
As he got jerked around in a half circle, Dallas’s gaze caught a glimpse of Nell, her expression half-delighted yet worried, as Lizzie might be, but she was nowhere in sight. Had she gone home? Her kids were still here, so she must be somewhere on the grounds. Maybe not watching him, though, as the bull bucked hard. Gorgeous wasn’t Greased Lightning, Dallas’s nemesis, but he was naturally talented enough for this local event. If Dallas didn’t need to stay focused on his ride, he’d smile. Instead, he gritted his teeth and held on. Three seconds. If Lizzie couldn’t bear to see him risk life and limb, she must care. He’d like to prove to her that he could do this and survive in one piece. Before he’d cowboyed up and the chute opened, he’d noted that his parents were seated in the front row of the bleachers. His mom had a hand to her throat and high color in her cheeks. His dad was shouting, his voice raw. “Ride ’im!”
Four. Halfway now through the allotted time.
“Go, Dallas!” someone yelled. He and the bull flashed by little Seth at the rail. His mouth open, Jordan stood fixed in place, speechless as he took in Dallas’s every move, the ribbon he’d won affixed to the boy’s chest. And—what do you know?—beside the boys, Stella was jumping up and down next to Nell, who hadn’t competed after all.
Determined to kno
ck Dallas to the ground, the young bull spun to the right this time, and Dallas swore under his breath. Not gonna happen. It wasn’t over yet. His new local friends had already ridden, but a few of Dallas’s professional rodeo pals remained still to compete, and Finn, the local sheriff, who’d never ridden a bull before, had scored surprisingly well. Dallas needed to keep his focus.
Five. People were now pounding the boards under their feet in the grandstand. Jordan, like Dallas’s father, had yelled himself hoarse—but still, Dallas saw no Lizzie. He wouldn’t let his disappointment ruin his ride. Or get himself hurt again and destroy his chances with her.
Dallas was in his element here, the bull his to command—until Gorgeous suddenly whirled on his hocks like some barrel racer’s horse. Dallas’s hand was so tightly wrapped in his bull rope, the resin so sticky, that if he fell, he’d get hung up, then helplessly dragged around the arena, his arm caught in his rigging, in clear sight of Lizzie’s children, his parents...and her?
His molars ground together. All the muscles in his arms, legs and abdomen rigid, he fought the bull with every bit of strength he had left. Six! The veins in his temples, his throat, must be standing out like those in his forearm, and a thought crossed his mind as it always did in these last seconds—Hang on, cowboy. Set an example here. Otherwise, he’d be on his back in the dirt, hurting. Humiliated like Lizzie by all the gossip she’d suffered.
His memory of Lubbock, his time in the hospital then rehab, kept him on this bull’s back. So did the promise he’d made to stay safe. Jordan had already proved that he could. Now it was up to Dallas. His hip might ache and throb tonight, tomorrow, for the next week, along with his whole just-healed body, but in these few seconds he felt fine, and he thought, I’m coming, Ace. Serenity and Barren would be just the start. I’ve got this. He’d be like the phoenix rising from the ashes of his career.
Then soon, Greased Lightning would meet his match.
Seven. He almost made the fatal mistake of loosening his grip on the rope, ever so slightly, when he knew how dangerous that could be, and predictably the Angus took advantage. The Sutherlands’ bull wasn’t done with him yet. A sinuous spiral torqued his entire body in midair—gotta hand it to him—and he nearly unseated Dallas. The crowd gasped.
Oh, no, you don’t, he silently told the bull. We’re in this together. All the way.
And in that moment, he spied Lizzie at the rail. She’d stayed. The buzzer sounded at the same second Dallas did the final count in his head. Eight!
The bull rope slithered through his hand as he hit the dirt. Standing on his feet.
* * *
“IS HE ALIVE?” Elizabeth wondered if her own heart was still beating. Seconds before, she’d joined her children at the fence but had to cover her eyes. Still, in the last instant she’d seen Dallas almost fall then recover his balance, and as she opened her eyes again now, she saw him standing, whole and strong and manly, in the center of the ring. With a shout of victory, he tore off his hat then flung it high in the air.
Jordan patted her shoulder. “He’s fine, Mom. I bet he won!”
Stella leaned against her side. “I didn’t think he would.”
Seth clung to Elizabeth’s hand. “When I’m bigger, I can ride too. Like him and Jordan.”
Her oldest had come in third in the calf riding, perhaps thanks to Dallas’s coaching. Even with his stomach churning, anticipating his own ride, he’d found time to help her boy. Elizabeth told herself the rising dust in the arena had caused her eyes to water. She didn’t realize she was moving until she’d flung open the gate, run into the ring and thrown herself in Dallas’s arms. He smelled of the animal he’d ridden, conquered, but most of all he smelled like Dallas. “Oh. My. Goodness. You were magnificent!”
His mouth quirked. “The part you actually saw, maybe. Let’s not get carried away. Thanks for trying, Lizzie.” He gazed above her head to beckon to someone in the crowd.
Elizabeth was riding high too over the look in Claudia’s eyes when she’d told her mother she was pregnant. Yes, she loved him, but how would today turn out for her and Dallas? With his rodeo coming to an end, nothing held him in Barren any longer. He’d be ready, eager for the circuit again—he’d just proved that. Could she trust in that something more he’d mentioned?
As Dallas took her hand and left the ring before the next rider entered, two older people approached, their faces wreathed in smiles, and Elizabeth guessed who they were—another powerful reminder of Dallas’s priorities.
Grinning, he walked toward them with Elizabeth. “Hey, Mom, Dad. Not a bad restart, huh?”
“You’re our son,” his mother said. “We’re always proud, but today you were spectacular.”
Releasing Elizabeth, Dallas leaned down to kiss his mom’s cheek, then shook his father’s hand, but got pulled into the kind of rough male hug that involved a lot of back slapping. “The next Finals in Vegas will be yours for the taking,” his dad told him.
Nursing her doubts, Elizabeth held back until their three-way embrace ended and Dallas turned to her again. “Now you’re in it,” he said. “Meet my folks, Millie and Joe Maguire. This is Lizzie Barnes, my neighbor and...friend.” He added, “For the time being.”
Did he mean temporary friends, as she’d always thought? Elizabeth’s spirits dropped even lower. Perhaps since their kiss and her laughter he’d changed his mind about her. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Maguire.”
Millie glanced between Elizabeth and Dallas. Her warm eyes danced. “If you’re brave enough to put up with this one, you have my full support. You’ll need it.” Her gentle tone seemed to say instead that Dallas wasn’t a problem. At that moment Elizabeth’s children ran toward them in a pack, like young coyotes, and talking over each other. Millie clapped her hands. “These must be your children.” She shot a look at Dallas.
“Three of them, remember?” he said.
“Lizzie, do you know how long I’ve been asking your ‘friend’ here to give me some grandchildren?” She studied Jordan, Stella and Seth in turn.
Stella’s mouth set. “I already have a grandmother.”
“She’s mean,” Seth put in. “She doesn’t like us.”
Jordan stiffened. “Yes, she does. She just doesn’t know how to show it.”
Millie’s gaze faltered. “Oh, my.”
Dallas said, “Mom, you’re jumping the gun, aren’t you?”
A small frown darkened her expression. “You know time is not on my side, Dallas, and don’t give me that look. I feel wonderful today, but none of us has forever. That includes you. Don’t waste any more time.” Her face brightened as she addressed the children. “Do you three like snickerdoodles?”
And with that, she herded Jordan, Stella and Seth across the dusty yard toward the food tents, where all sorts of delicious pastries would be waiting. Dallas’s father followed, giving him a wry look over his shoulder. “I hope they’re hungry.”
“Here we go,” Dallas muttered to Elizabeth, who was standing there, feeling dazed. “There’ll be no controlling her,” he said, but he looked happy. From the top of the grandstand, where Hadley held the microphone, came another announcement. With the last few riders now done, the awards ceremony would start as soon as the winners’ tallies were checked, and the judges delivered their verdicts from the competitions held in the tents. “Gotta run,” he said, “but after all that prize money gets put in the pot for Dusty’s care, we need to talk again, Lizzie.”
She was holding her breath now. Elizabeth had no idea how that would go, but his parents, her children...appeared to have bonded instantly.
She didn’t even mind that his mother too had used her nickname.
* * *
“BECCA.” IN THE big tent that had housed the competitions for baked goods, vegetables and fruits grown by local people, she thought she heard Calvin’s voice and wondered if she was hallucinating
. Not willing to believe her ears, she moved baskets of zucchini and yellow squash around on the table she’d been assigned to monitor as a volunteer helper. Many of the entries were gone by now, either purchased or the leftovers packed to go home. Becca didn’t turn around. She couldn’t seem to move.
“I know you’re mad at me.” Calvin stepped closer behind her. “But hear me out.”
She managed to circle the table to its front where two containers of raspberries and blackberries still stood. When she would have walked away, Calvin stayed her with a hand on her shoulder. The warmth of his touch threatened to melt her inside. He was here. She’d never expected to see him again.
“I understand how you must feel,” he began.
“No, you don’t. I have nothing to say to you.”
She hadn’t seen him earlier, and she hadn’t left the tent all day, not even to watch one of the rodeo events. Why had he shown up now?
Her shoulders rigid, she cast a look around, hoping Elizabeth was nearby. Becca could use an ally, the mentor she’d come to rely on. Otherwise, she’d look at Calvin and be lost again, hoping they could be together when she’d already made her choice. Hers, alone.
He said, “Give me a minute, will you? We never talked much about ourselves—I didn’t anyway—but I need you to listen now. Maybe then you’ll understand why I did what I did.” His tone lowered. “When I was a kid, my life got pretty messed up. My dad took off, my mom went into a tailspin, and I never knew what I was walking into when I got home. As soon as I turned eighteen, I joined the army, the only real structure I ever had until I came to work for Hadley. You see what I’m getting at here? When you told me about the baby, Becca, I thought, what if I was like my father with my mom and me? What if I couldn’t be what you need me to be? I was wrong to leave,” he said. “Nowhere I went in this whole state seemed like the right place. You know where that really is?” He didn’t wait for her to respond. “With you,” he said, almost too softly for her to hear. To believe.
