by Quint, Suzie
“Fine. She’s in the paddock with Daisy. But you’re going to have to be the one to tell her. And I ain’t watching you break her heart and ain’t gonna be the one to pick up the pieces. You do this on your own.” He turned and strode away.
She sighed and closed her eyes. Once again, she was going to be the bad guy. Why in the world had she thought Sol making decisions about Eden was a good idea?
###
Before Georgia reached the corner of the barn, a pickup pulled into the McKnight driveway. The crunch of gravel under the tires made her look back. The truck pulled up to the barn door, The sight of Sol’s rodeo buddy Terry Ainsley stepping out of the cab made Georgia’s stomach clench. Sol wasn’t going on the road, was he? He couldn’t. Not when he had Eden here.
But when he grabbed a duffel bag from inside the barn door and threw it in the pickup bed, she knew that was exactly what he was doing. That was what he’d meant when he’d said he wasn’t going to pick up the pieces. Damn him.
When she reached the paddock, Georgia found Gideon leaning on the fence, watching Eden and Daisy, who were both in the saddle.
“Hey there,” he said as she took a spot beside him.
“Hey, yourself.” She shook off her irritation at Sol, putting it in a mental box to work through later, and nodded toward the activity in front of her. “How’re the horses coming along?”
“Good.”
He didn’t seem inclined toward chitchat, which suited her fine. She leaned on the fence, bracing one foot on the bottom rail, and watched as Eden’s horse loped along the side fence. Eden stopped the mare and backed her up a couple of steps, then she turned to lope back down the fence, repeating the stop and backup three times until she reached the end of the fence, where she turned the horse around to do it again.
“What’re they doing?” Georgia asked when Eden had been up and down the fence a couple of times.
“Spitfire needs to keep her legs under her hindquarters better on the turns,” he said as he dug into his shirt pocket for a roll of Lifesavers. He popped one into his mouth. She took the lemon one at the end of the roll when he offered it, then they both resumed their stances at the fence.
Daisy brought her horse over to Eden when she reached the end of the fence. Eden looked so grown up on that horse, her face a picture of concentration as she listened to Daisy’s instruction.
Even Daisy looked older. Sol’s sister had always seemed a little flighty and unfocused, but there was no sign of that girl in the arena. Not today.
Daisy and Eden turned their horses in a couple of tight circles. When they stopped, Daisy gestured with her hands, presumably giving more instruction. Then they did it again.
Eden looked so intent. Georgia grimaced to herself. She didn’t enjoy seeing her daughter growing up any more than Sol did. If her daughter could only be content to work the horses with Daisy, Georgia would be cheering. She didn’t want to think Sol might be right and that taking this away from Eden would break her heart, but no matter how hard Georgia pushed it away, the thought kept surfacing.
If she could have kept Eden away from rodeos entirely, she would have. Rodeos were dangerous, though none of the McKnights seemed to see that.
She’d gone to rodeos before she’d married Sol, but she hadn’t cared about them much until she’d started seeing Sol. For the first time, she’d cared about the events because she’d had someone to root for. Actually there’d been a whole bunch of someones. Sol’s brother Zach competed in the calf roping. His sister Rachel was barrel racing then. It had been fun.
Then they’d graduated and gotten married and Sol started transitioning to real rodeos where the bulls were more aggressive.
They’d been married three weeks when Georgia realized how dangerous it really was. Not that she hadn’t already known, but until that day, the danger had been an abstract. With all the arrogance of the young and their faith in their own immortality, serious injuries were what happened to strangers. She hadn’t believed it could touch her or someone she loved.
Bill Marshall had been the first of Sol’s rodeo buddies she met. He’d been funny and sweet and soft spoken. When she’d shown up, wearing her brand-new wedding ring, he’d teased her, insisting the only way Sol could have convinced her to marry him was to drug or hypnotize her. He’d continued teasing her until she blushed and Sol growled at him, but it had all been such fun. Bill had made her feel welcome to the inner circle.
When Bill rode, she’d cheered him from the stands almost as enthusiastically as she’d cheered her husband. Three weeks after she’d married Sol, Bill had drawn a rank bull called Snowflake.
To Georgia’s inexperienced eye, any time the buzzer sounded and the cowboy and the bull hadn’t yet parted company, it was a good ride. Bill’s ride looked fine to her right up until he’d somehow cracked skulls with the bull. He’d hit the ground headfirst, already unconscious. Georgia stopped breathing, waiting for him to move. She was still waiting when the cowboys and the bullfighters reached him. And when the medics came. And the ambulance.
They’d carried him out on a stretcher and rushed him to the local hospital then airlifted him to Dallas’ trauma center. She’d never been able to think about Bill after that without wanting to cry.
People said he was lucky, but she didn’t think spending the rest of your life in a wheelchair was something she’d be grateful for. If it had been Sol, as active as he was, they’d have had to put him on suicide watch.
But that came later.
What she remembered all too clearly was the horror when she’d thought Bill was dead. It had frozen the blood in her veins.
She should have been grateful it wasn’t Sol. Instead, she’d kept picturing Sol lying there dead. All of three weeks they’d been married, and she was having visions of the man she loved leaving her alone and grieving because he wanted to play cowboy.
By the time Sol had climbed into the chute, the fear of losing him had dug its claws into her and refused to let go. From the start of his ride until she’d hugged him after the rodeo, she’d had to fight the need to throw up.
The next week wasn’t any better. Neither was the week after that.
Cautiously, she’d broached the subject with Sol, trying to feel out how important riding was to him.
The man she’d married had been even more of the strong, silent type than he was today, but once she got him started, he’d waxed eloquently about the joy he got from riding bulls.
Georgia had been shocked to the marrow of her bones.
She’d been so upset, she’d confided her fears to her mama. What an eye-opener that had been.
Her parents weren’t crazy about her running off and marrying Sol, but listening to her mama had been like hearing the Greek Fates lay out the path her life would take.
Sol was selfish, her mama had said, but then that’s how men were. You couldn’t change that. Georgia would always come second to Sol’s true passion. He was like her granddaddy, who’d died riding bulls, leaving her mama fatherless, and like Georgia’s own daddy, who’d left them for a year to go on the road to play his music. Georgia was destined for a miserable life, her mama said, because she’d married a man just like the other men in her family.
That Sol loved riding at least as much as he loved her made Georgia feel as if she were five years old and the Grinch had stolen her Christmas.
You can’t win, her mama had said. If you make him give up those bulls, he’ll come to loathe you.
If she even could.
She had worked out the rest on her own. That loathing would destroy them the way it had destroyed her parents’ marriage. He’d end up leaving her the way her father had left her mother. Or he’d stay out of a sense of obligation. For the children. She’d have a marriage no better than her parents’, a vision that filled her with fresh horror. And that was the best-case scenario. Worst case was that he’d die in the arena. She couldn’t bear that.
For a week, she’d tried to think of a way they could both
be happy, but she couldn’t see one. The only solution she could see had been to leave before it was too late.
She’d cried about it when he wasn’t around to see. Then one day, when he was off working on the ranch, she’d packed her clothes and moved out.
Okay, so she’d been a bit of a drama queen about it. Teenage girls often were. Especially when they were in love.
What she’d really wanted, she knew now, was for Sol to come after her, vowing to devote himself to her and only her. What a dope she’d been. He had come after her, but his confusion made him angry, and his anger made her stubborn. It had escalated from there.
None of those memories, however, answered the question of whether forbidding her daughter to ride in the rodeo was the right decision.
Eden brought her horse around to face the arena and saw Georgia. “Hi, Mama,” she yelled and waved.
Georgia waved back.
Any other day, Eden would have run into her mother’s arms, but the thought didn’t even seem to occur to her. Instead she loped toward the first barrel. The turn looked tight and clean to Georgia.
“Still a little drift in his rear end,” Gideon said. “But it’s better.”
Well, what did she know?
Daisy rode up. “Hey, Georgia.”
“Daisy.” Georgia nodded toward Eden as she rounded another barrel. “You’ve got her working hard, I see.”
“Yeah, she’s a real trooper. The other kids all went swimming, but she wanted to stay and help me.” Daisy grinned wickedly. “So I let her.”
Belatedly, Georgia realized she hadn’t seen the younger McKnights. Daisy probably didn’t know Eden was waiting for her mother’s stamp of approval to go to the swimming hole. Sneaking off with the others, knowing the odds were against Georgia’s finding out, had to be a powerful temptation, but Eden was a good kid without an ounce of rebellion in her veins.
Which only made it harder to watch her daughter put the horse through its paces. If Eden wasn’t moping about not being able to go swimming with the others, then Sol was right. Eden really wanted this.
“She’s doing real good, too. It sure helps me out.” Daisy patted her mount’s neck. “With Eden working Spitfire, I’ve got time to train Lola here.”
Georgia’s smile felt stiff. “I thought Leah wanted to ride for you?”
“Says she does but she ain’t putting in the time. I think she likes the idea of running the barrels more than the doing.”
Great. Just . . . great.
Daisy paused and shot a look at Gideon so quickly, Georgia almost missed it. “I really appreciate you lettin’ Eden ride in the rodeo.” She said it as though she wasn’t sure if it was something she should bring up. “Being new to this and all, if she does go, folks’ll give the horse she’s riding as much credit as they give her. That’ll be a nice first step for me getting my name out there as a trainer.”
Georgia stared blankly at her. She so didn’t want to be responsible for busting two dreams. Why the hell couldn’t Sol have kept his big, fat mouth shut?
She took too long to recover her composure, and Daisy shot a panicky glance at Gideon. He gave a subtle shrug back to her.
Georgia took a deep breath. “About that. I need to talk to Eden.”
“Sure,” Daisy said but she was stiff with discomfort as she turned her horse and yelled for Eden.
Eden bounced off the mare when she got there, oblivious to the undercurrent that had become painfully obvious to Georgia. Daisy was braced for bad news, but her voice didn’t give her away when she said, “Your mama misses you. Why don’t you spend a little time with her?”
“Okay. I’ll just put—”
“Gideon will take care of Spitfire. Won’t you, Gideon?”
“Yeah, sure.” Gideon climbed over the fence and took the reins.
Georgia found herself resenting his casual attitude. Didn’t he care that Eden’s heart was about to be broken?
She mentally cursed Sol again for making her clean up his mess.
“Gramma’s got Popsicles in the fridge,” Eden said. “I bet she’d let us have some if you ask her.”
Georgia smiled. Her daughter. Working the angles. Then she remembered what she was about to do. Her smile felt brittle. “That sounds like a plan to me. I’ll meet you on the front stoop.”
Eden’s prediction was on the money, and Georgia emerged from the house with two Popsicles. “Which one do you want?”
Eden took the grape one—no surprise there—leaving her mother the orange one.
They peeled back the wrappers and each took a long pull. The orange flavor burst in Georgia’s mouth. One of the cool things about having a child was getting to enjoy the things she’d treasured in her own childhood, like Popsicles on a warm day. A couple more pulls, and Eden flashed a purple tongue at her mother.
Georgia chuckled then took a deep breath, girding her loins.
“This summer’s shaping up well, isn’t it?”
“It’s the best.”
A thousand possibilities came to mind about what she could say next, questions she could ask, but all of them danced around the topic she had to broach. She let Eden enjoy several more licks of her Popsicle then drew another deep breath. “Your daddy tells me you want to ride in the rodeo.”
Eden didn’t flinch, but Georgia felt her daughter’s sudden tension. She took another lick of her Popsicle then looked up at Georgia, her eyes empty, as if she’d never believed it would happen anyway and wasn’t willing to show how much she cared.
Oh, God. She already knows. My baby expects me to squash her dream.
Georgia’s heart crumbled. She could tell herself all day long this was for Eden’s good in the long run. Her reasons were as valid now as they’d been five minutes ago. Wasn’t her daughter’s disappointment today over not riding better than having her heart broken in a few years by some stupid cowboy?
Except it was today and it was going to be more than disappointment. Sol was right, damn him. She was going to break her daughter’s heart.
Georgia’s throat closed up. She couldn’t breathe. Her vision started to blur.
Eden’s voice came from a great distance. “Mama, are you okay?”
Georgia leaned forward and put her head between her knees.
“Mama!” Eden’s voice was panicky.
Georgia groped for her daughter. Eden’s hand closed on hers, warm and solid. “Okay,” Georgia croaked. “I’m okay.”
She wasn’t. Not yet. But the world was stabilizing, or at least the toes of her boots were. She stayed down until the world seemed to be in place once again, then cautiously, she straightened, brushing back the hair that had fallen over her face.
“Mama?”
“I’m okay, sugar.” She squeezed her daughter’s hand then decided the hell with that, and pulled Eden into her arms. Eden squeezed back hard.
Georgia let her go and looked into her daughter’s face. “I’m not going to lie to you. I have reservations about letting you ride. I’d rather you didn’t, but—” She took a tentative breath. Yeah, she could do this, even though it felt as if her heart was about to shatter. Well, better hers than Eden’s. “If you really want to, and if Daisy thinks you’re ready”—she caught her daughter’s shoulders before she could start bouncing with excitement—”and you wear a helmet—I won’t stop you.”
Eden’s eyes shone. “You’re really going to let me?”
“Yes.” Her daughter’s glow tempered her misgivings.
As Eden dove into her arms and hugged her hard, Georgia decided it was official: Snow cones were on sale in hell.
Chapter Eighteen
“Fuck, son of a bitch, rat bastard, asshole, shit, hellfire and damnation.” Man, that felt good. Sol leaned back in the passenger seat of Terry’s truck and released a satisfied sigh.
Terry grinned as he pulled out of the McKnight ranch onto the road, heading for the interstate. “I’d ask what bee got up your bonnet, but you don’t sound all that pissed.”
Sol didn’t appreciate the gusto of Terry’s laughter, but he let it go. He’d have found it just as funny if it were Terry instead of him.
They caught up on Terry’s recent rodeo exploits then dropped into a companionable silence. The miles ticked by. Sol sat slumped in his seat, lost in thought, when Terry finally broke the sound barrier with, “So Georgia’s back around. How’s that going?”
Sol straightened. “How’d you know Georgia was back?”
Terry cast a sideways look at Sol, an amused smile on his lips. He looked back at the road and shook his head as if he couldn’t believe Sol was such an imbecile. “I don’t get it.”
“You don’t get what?”
“Every time Georgia shows up, you stop being fun. You’re normally a hell of a kick on the road. I like traveling with you, but not when you’ve been around your ex.”
“How am I not fun?”
Another head shake accompanied by something that looked suspiciously like a suppressed eye roll. “You get so damned serious when Georgia’s in your sights. It’s like your sense of humor evaporates. You don’t kid around. You don’t set anyone up for a joke. And you don’t ride for shit.”
Sol stared at Terry, his mouth agape. It wasn’t true. He was who he was. All the time. It had nothing to do with Georgia.
“I ride okay when Georgia’s around—”
“Okay ain’t good enough.”
Sol scowled. “And I don’t lose my sense of humor.”
“You do a hell of a good imitation, then. Tell me you ain’t been thinking about Georgia for the last hour.”
“I wasn’t.”
“Then what were you thinking about?”
“I was thinking—” Sol tried to remember. Oh, hell, it wasn’t as though Terry would know the difference anyway. “About Eden.”
“What about her?”
“Well, Georgia’s mama had a stroke—”
The look Terry shot Sol practically screamed, “See?”
