I hold Sweetie for a few seconds at the front, gauging the distance to the front barrel and giving us both time to focus. When I’m confident that the barrels are set up in the usual way, I lean forward in the saddle. “Let’s show ’em how it’s done,” I whisper.
She takes off like a shot. We round the first barrel and make a beeline for the second, cutting it clean and close. Again, at the third barrel, I’m careful not to swing too wide. Adrenaline pumps through my body as we ride wide open back to the gate.
I’ve been to big-city rodeos with less whooping and hollering. Amid the whistles and clapping, I see Jennifer beaming.
I ride over to her and slide off Sweetie. Dirk appears to take the reins. “Thanks,” I murmur and pat my horse on the neck as I hand her over.
“That was incredible,” Jennifer breathes.
“Thanks.” I’ve always considered myself happy not to be the center of attention, but I can’t deny the thrill of pleasing an audience.
“It looks so complicated.”
I come back to earth with a jolt. Here it is. The whole purpose of this little exercise in showmanship. “It is. But it just takes practice.”
“Cool.” She hitches her thumb toward the stable. “I’m going to go check on Sweetie.”
She hurries off to see the horse, apparently not even noticing that the bull riding is about to begin.
Jack’s voice comes from behind me. “Looks like your dad knew what he was doing this time.”
I swing around to face him. “We’ll see.”
“You’re still amazing in the arena.”
“Thanks, Jack. It was fun.”
“So I guess we don’t have to wonder who’ll win the senior barrels event.”
I frown. “Do you mean me? No, I just ride for fun.”
“You’re not going to compete? Why?”
Haven’t I already answered this question this week for Jennifer? I shrug. “Not my thing.”
He narrows his eyes and gives me a measured look, then nods. “Well, you did a good job out there.”
“Thanks.” Again.
“You going to hang around and watch the bull riding?” He motions toward the practice pens. “Or do you think your mission is accomplished?”
“You riding?”
His dimples flash. “That depends. Are you staying if I do? Or staying if I don’t?”
I laugh. “Neither one. I was just curious.”
He readjusts his hat. “In that case, I wasn’t planning on riding. I just open up the practice pens on Monday nights for the guys.”
I’m still trying to decide whether to stay or go when Jennifer joins us. “Are they about to start bull riding?”
Jack nods. “Better get you a good seat. I have it on good authority that these bulls don’t aim to be ridden tonight.”
“Who told you that?” Jennifer asks.
“My horse. He overheard it earlier.” Jack winks at us and motions toward the gates. “I’d better go get things started.”
Within seconds, the opening line of one of Chris LeDoux’s many rodeo songs blares from the speakers next to us and the gate swings open. I watch Jennifer’s expression as the bull bucks and twists, a cowboy clinging to the saddle horn, trying valiantly to keep his hand in the air. Fear and fascination war across her face. I pray that the fear wins out.
“That is a big bull,” she whispers in my ear.
“I hope this fence is solid,” I say, as the twisting pair nears us.
“That’s what I was thinking.”
We both jump when the cowboy lands right in front of us, hitting the hard dirt with a thud. The bull barely misses stomping on his head. The cowboys in the arena deftly herd the snorting animal into the pen on the far side.
After the third man hits the ground long before the eight-second buzzer sounds, Jennifer looks over at me. “Think Grand-daddy will ever let me live it down if l don’t try bull riding tonight?”
I smile at her. “I think he’ll be eternally grateful. I imagine your grandmother would have banished him to the guest room or worse if you had.”
We stare in morbid fascination as a fourth guy doesn’t even make it all the way out of the chute on the bull. The music has mellowed into “My Heroes Have Always Been Cowboys.”
“I will ride a bull one day,” she says. “Just not today.” I look over at her lifted chin, and terror chills my heart.
Jenn, I think I know why you really wanted to ride a bull.”
A wary look crosses her face. She raises her eyebrows.
“When I was a little younger than you, I tried to ride a wild horse.”
She whips around to look at me. “Why?”
I shrug. “It seemed like if I could do something so impossible, I could handle anything.”
She turns her gaze back to the arena. “Did you do it?”
“I got on it but ended up with a busted collarbone.”
“So you took up barrel racing instead?”
“Yeah.”
“It looks hard.” She glances over to where the next cowboy is preparing to ride a bull. “Maybe not as hard as bull riding, but hard.”
“It is. In a way.” I look over at Jennifer. “But you can do it. You come from a long line of barrel racers.”
She frowns. “By adoption, you mean.”
Now what do I say?
The truth as much as I can. “I think this is something that’s in your spirit more than your blood. And you have the Donovan spirit.” And would, even if you weren’t blood-related, I finish silently.
She shrugs. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to learn to barrel race while I’m getting up the nerve to bull ride.”
“No. Doing one doesn’t rule out doing the other, but—”
“Can I learn on Sweetie?”
I nod. “Of course you can. She seemed to like being in the limelight.”
“Thanks, Aunt Rach. You’re the best.”
I can’t count the number of times she’s said that over the last thirteen years since she learned to talk. I think she says it without even thinking. But I’ve never taken one time for granted. And even though I know it’s not true, especially now, it still makes me feel better hearing it.
Cowboy number five falls at our feet, and I nudge Jennifer. “Since you’ve decided to leave bull riding to another day, what do you think about us getting out of here and leaving these men with their dignity?”
She giggles. “Sounds good.”
I’d like to slip out unnoticed, but good manners demand thanking the host, so we make our way over to Jack. He sees us coming and walks to meet us. “Leaving so soon?”
“We wanted to thank you for all your trouble.” My words sound stilted. I guess I talk with him that way sometimes to make up for how relaxed I feel around him. I need to keep a balance.
“No trouble at all. It was my pleasure.” He looks over at Jennifer. “What did you think about your aunt’s barrel-racing skills?”
“Cool,” Jennifer says with a broad smile. “I’ve decided I want to try to learn.”
“I think you’ll be a natural,” he says.
“Thanks. But I am still going to learn to ride bulls, too.” She looks over his shoulder and her eyes light up. “I’m going to run tell Dirk bye.” And before I can say a word, she hurries toward the young cowboy.
I spin around and watch the dark-haired boy doff his hat as she approaches, and the two of them laugh and talk. Panic rises in my chest. What have I done introducing her to this world? I brush past Jack and march over to her. “Jenn, we have to go.”
She frowns at me. “Why?”
“We just do. I have some things to do at home.”
She rolls her eyes, and her face reddens. “Whatever. See you later, Dirk.”
Not if I have anything to say about it.
Jack is still standing where I left him, a strange look on his face as we hurry out of the arena, my arm hooked in Jennifer’s. When we walk out into the dusky darkness, she stops. “What was that a
ll about?”
I look at her, the moonlight glinting off her hair and sparkling in her eyes. How can I possibly explain? “Cowboys. . . You can’t—” I sigh. “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you, but it’s time to go home.”
Her mouth tightens, but she follows me to the car and doesn’t bring it up again.
“She’s got a crush on a cowboy, Tammy.” I lean against the deck railing and stare unseeing into the darkness as I press the phone against my ear.
“A crush? She was just talking to him. Besides, she’s fifteen. She’s old enough to like boys.”
How can she sound so calm? I grip the phone. “Maybe you didn’t hear me. He’s a cowboy.”
“Rach,” her voice softens, “he’s what? Sixteen? Seventeen at the most? He’s just a kid. And if Dad hired him, he must be a good kid.”
I sigh. “I guess you’re right. Seeing her laughing and talking with him tonight. . .it was déjà vu all over again. I freaked out.”
“That’s understandable, given your history.”
“I guess.” Even though Tammy and I have been through a lot together, the past is a subject we normally avoid. Unfortunately, the present is making that more and more difficult.
“I’m a lot more worried about the fact that she’s determined to ride a bull,” Tammy says.
“Can’t you just tell her she can’t do it?”
Tammy laughs. “Do you remember what it was like when you were fifteen? Did you always listen when Mama and Daddy told you not to do something?”
“Pretty much.”
“Yeah, well, most of us didn’t. But I will tell her no. Then you’ll have to do your best to keep her from disobeying me.”
I’m not worried. If her parents tell her riding bulls is out of the question, I’m sure she’ll let it go. In fact, I think she’d welcome her parents’ ruling as a dignified exit from something she really doesn’t want to do anymore. “I notice Jenn’s been calling you every day. How’s that going?”
“Good.” Tammy sounds happy. “She’s coming around. I apologized for not telling her she’s adopted. And she apologized for running away. She has a lot of unanswered questions, obviously”—
Let’s hope it stays that way.
—“but she’s healing.”
“Which is all the more reason not to hurt her again by telling her the truth about me.”
Silence.
Finally she says, “Russ and I have been praying about that, and we’ve decided that decision is up to you. We did a closed adoption with the understanding that we wouldn’t tell Jennifer you were her birth mother unless we all agreed to someday. Obviously, you haven’t agreed, and we’re sticking with our deal.”
Tears sting my eyes. “Thanks.”
“It’s the least we can do considering”—she clears her throat—“what a gift you gave us.”
“You and Russ have given me a gift, too. The gift of watching her grow up in a Christian home with parents who are able to take care of her and look out for her. I appreciate y’all. And I need to thank you, too, for letting her stay here for a while. I’m really enjoying this time with her.”
“Good. We miss her.”
“I know you do.” I clear my throat. “Hey. . .”
“Yeah?”
“Did. . .is. . .do you think she’s having a good time with me?”
“Rach, she loves you. She’s thrilled to be there.” She hesitates. “Except for one thing. . .”
“What?” My heart is in my throat.
“She can’t understand how anyone can live in a house without sugar.”
I blow out my breath. “Very funny. I have sugar.”
“Yeah, but only a tiny bit of organic sugar in the sugar bowl. You don’t have any snacks or desserts with sugar in the house.”
“I never told her she couldn’t have sugar.”
“That’s a relief. Then you won’t kick her out if you find her contraband M&M’s and Dove Promises?”
I smile in the dark. “She’d better watch it. If I have many more days like I’ve had lately, I’ll be confiscating her stash.”
“I’m sure she’ll be glad to share.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” I glance back over my shoulder. “I’d better get back in the house before she comes out looking for me.”
“Okay, but do me a favor.”
“What?”
“Next time Jenn talks to a cowboy, relax a little.”
I sigh. “I’ll try. It’s hard to realize she’s even old enough to notice the opposite sex.”
Tammy laughs. “Oh, believe me, she’s old enough to notice. But she has a good head on her shoulders. And you have to realize all cowboys aren’t the same.”
“In theory, I know that.”
“Take Jack Westwood.” Tammy’s voice is overly casual. “He sounds like he grew up nice.”
“What do you know about Jack?”
“Mama and Daddy say he’s a really good neighbor.”
Since when do we talk about Mom and Dad’s neighbors? There has to be more to it than that. “And?”
“And Jenn has mentioned him a few times.”
“What did she say about him?”
“She said he’s nice, and she thinks he likes you.”
“He doesn’t—”
“Oh, and that he’s drop-dead gorgeous for an old man.”
I laugh. “Yeah, well, she’s got that right. Which is just another strike against him.”
“I didn’t realize he was up to bat,” she says.
I gently slap my forehead. Why did I say that? She’ll never let it drop now.
“You know, Tam, there’s a reason people use the phrase ‘devastatingly handsome.’ ”
“Isn’t that a little judgmental?”
Only a sister knows how to hit where it hurts. I can’t stand for people to judge without basis. “What do you mean?”
“Well, you don’t like him because he’s a cute cowboy. What would you call that?”
“Smart?” I pop off then sigh. “I know you’re right, but there’s more to it.”
“Something to do with the past?”
I lean against the wooden railing of my deck and dial my voice down a notch. “He was there that summer. He was part of Brett’s crowd. I’m afraid he knows.”
I close my eyes, and for a brief second, I actually see him—a thinner, ganglier Jack, laughing with Brett’s crowd. Reckless. Cocky. Maybe, hopefully, oblivious.
“Does he act like he knows?”
I close my eyes against the tears that are pricking. “No. But even if he doesn’t, he might remember more than he realizes. He might eventually put two and two together.”
“God’s forgiven you, Rach. You’ve got to let it go and forgive yourself.”
I let out a trembly laugh. “If I had a piece of chocolate for every time you’ve told me that. . .but it’s hard to let go of the past.”
“You know what, Rach? Don’t let go of it. Your past made you the amazing woman you are today. But you still need to embrace the future, free of shame and guilt.”
I hear her fumbling around, and I open my eyes and grin. “Did you just write that down?” Tammy’s a speechwriter, and sometimes her speeches flow over into her conversations. Or rather, her conversations flow over into her speeches.
She gives an embarrassed chuckle. “You know me too well. But I meant it. Call me later. Love you.”
We hang up, and I linger for a few minutes to watch the fireflies playing tag in the dark.
I tilt my face to the night sky and close my eyes. Lord, You know I don’t know what I’m doing. Please forgive me of the past. And help me.
The back door creaks. I swing around. Jennifer stands in the doorway squinting to adjust her eyes to the darkness. She’s almost as tall as I am. How did she grow up so soon?
“Aunt Rachel?”
“Yeah?”
“Will you walk with me out to the car? I left my iPod out there, and I’m scared to go by myself.�
��
I grin, relieved in spite of myself. Maybe she’s not so grown up after all. “Sure.”
I’m a few minutes early for the next committee meeting, but Jack is waiting. He jumps up to pull out my chair.
“Hey,” I say and plop Ron’s notebook onto the vinyl-topped table. “So, how do we get a real meeting started? We never made it that far last time.”
Jack clears his throat. “Um, before we get started, I gotta tell ya that a reporter called me today and asked when the next meeting was. I figured we could use all the media exposure for the rodeo we could get, so. . .”
“A reporter?” Uh-oh. “What reporter?”
“There she is now.” Jack pushes to his feet again.
I turn to look at the door and groan. I should have known.
Channel 6’s Wake Up, Shady Grove has a reality show segment called “Get Real, Shady Grove.” Blair Winchester, the station’s star anchorwoman, has decided it will be great fun to stick her nose into—I mean, get impromptu footage of—the various workings of the centennial celebration. I’d gotten my fill of her on-air manipulations when she’d followed Allie’s landscaping crew, including me, around with a camera, trying to make us look stupid. I’d really hoped the rodeo preparations would escape her notice, but apparently not.
I stand and brace myself as she approaches our table with a cameraman right behind her. “Blair,” I murmur in way of greeting, but I needn’t have bothered.
She ignores me and swoops in on Jack like a starving buzzard over roadkill. “I’m Blair Winchester. It’s such an honor to meet you. I’ve watched you ride bulls so many times and never thought I’d get a chance to meet you in person.”
Jack’s face reddens, and he ducks his head. “Nice to meet you too, Mrs. Win—”
She throws back her head and laughs, a musical trill that she definitely practices at home. “You can call me Blair. But it’s Miss. I’m single. And I’m planning to stay that way.” She bats her heavy-with-mascara lashes at him then has the audacity to give him a sly wink. “Unless I meet someone who makes me an offer I can’t refuse.”
Along Came a Cowboy Page 7
