Along Came a Cowboy

by Christine Lynxwiler

  As if he can follow my train of thought, he says, “You probably don’t even remember, but I called you right before I left town for the rodeo circuit.”

  My muscles tighten all over my body, guarding against his words as if protecting myself from a physical attack. “I remember.” When the phone had rung, I’d thought sure it was Brett, magically remembering me and my phone number. But it had been Jack, calling to see if I’d go to the county fair with him.

  He grins. “I spent the next several months hoping maybe you just didn’t like county fairs. By the time I got home for a short visit the next summer, you had already gone off to Georgia to school.”

  I certainly can’t tell him I was a little too preoccupied with a positive home pregnancy test at the time to think about cotton candy and tilt-a-whirls. I force my stiff lips into an answering smile. Apparently, my attempt is a failure, because he frowns.

  “I’m sorry I’ve yammered on so long. You probably just didn’t want to go out with me. Tell me what you want to drink, and I’ll run get it.”

  If he has no suspicions about that summer and my speedy exit from Arkansas three months later, then I should definitely stay and visit longer. Just so none arise. But I can’t. Can you be seasick on dry ground? That’s how I’ve felt ever since he mentioned that summer. “Actually, I’m not feeling well.” I put my hands on the table and push to my feet.

  My words have the effect of rain on a sunny day. His face falls. “Did I say something wrong?”

  “No. . .it’s just been a long day.” I push to my feet, gather my bags.

  He stands immediately. “Are you gonna be okay?”

  I nod. “I’d better just get home.”

  “Should I drive you?”

  He looks so worried. “No, thanks, Jack. I had a nice time.” I motion to the table so he’ll know I meant during our getting-to-know-you-again session.

  He smiles. “Me, too. I hope you’re not coming down with something.”

  “I’m probably just overtired.”

  “Maybe you’re not getting enough rest. Your niece is still visiting, isn’t she?”

  Was that a normal question? Idle curiosity? Or is he trying to figure out why Jennifer’s with me? Just in case, I ignore the question and respond to his comment. “Yeah, I need to rest more.”

  He insists on walking me out to my car and seeing me safely inside, which is nice, actually. The night air seems to blow away all my “wooziness,” and I thank him.

  “My pleasure,” he says.

  Mine, too, I think. And that’s the problem.

  “So you’re resolving not to be so paranoid about Jack?” Allie asks.

  I nod. “It’s not his fault he was around that summer.”

  “No, it’s not. You grew up together, for goodness’ sake,” Lark says. “And it was one thing when you were just avoiding him, although I personally thought that was silly. But now that you have to see him on a regular basis, you might as well be friends.”

  Allie gives me a sideways grin and holds up a beautiful cream lace wedding dress in front of her. “Or whatever you want to be.”

  “Friends,” I say firmly. “Just friends. Nice dress.”

  “Hey”—Allie slides the dress back onto the rack—“do you think Jenn would like to sit at the guest book?”

  “Oh, I’m sure she’d love to, Allie, but you don’t have to include her just because she’s staying with me.”

  “I’d love to have her. I’ll ask her next time I see her.”

  “Look at this one,” Victoria says from a few feet away. She slides a simple off-white tea-length dress out from the rack and holds it up for us to see.

  Allie gasps and lunges toward it. “That’s the one.”

  “Don’t be shy. Tell us how you really feel,” Lark says dryly. “Try it on.” Vic passes it to Allie, and we all traipse back to the dressing room to wait.

  In a few moments, Allie comes out, the elegantly simple dress the perfect complement to her long blond hair and blue eyes.

  I stare at her. “You look like Sleeping Beauty.”

  “Only awake,” Lark adds.

  “It is the one, isn’t it, Al?” Vic asks.

  She nods. “Mission accomplished.”

  Lark pats her stomach. “In that case, let’s get started on the next mission.”

  “Bridesmaids’ dresses?” Allie asks, her voice muffled in the cubicle.

  “First things first. Bridesmaids must eat.”

  “Luckily,” Allie says, as she comes out of the dressing room wearing her regular clothes and smoothing down her hair, “we can kill two birds with one stone, as Lark’s granny always said, and go see Mama Ruth.” She looks at the time on her phone. “I told her we’d be there between ten thirty and eleven.”

  Victoria nods. “Brilliant.”

  The rest of us quickly agree, and ten minutes later, we reconvene at the huge kitchen table of Shady Grove’s quintessential wedding planner. Mama Ruth has been planning weddings since long before it was vogue to have or be a wedding planner. She calls it “putting on.” She “puts on” a wedding and handles everything but the wedding dress.

  After we pick out the fabric and pattern for the bridesmaids’ dresses, Mama Ruth brings out a huge platter of doughnuts and a hot pot of coffee. I ignore the doughnuts but go for the caffeine. Everything in moderation, after all.

  Mama Ruth pats my shoulder as she passes out napkins. “Doc Rachel, it looks like we’ll be planning your wedding next,” she says.

  “Is there something you’re not telling us?” Victoria mutters beside me.

  I glare at her then smile up at the older woman. “No wedding plans for me,” I say, infusing my voice with cheer.

  She shakes her head. “Soon. I saw you on TV the other morning. There were enough sparks between you and Jack Westwood to start a forest fire.”

  Victoria bursts out laughing, and Allie and Lark quickly put their hands to their mouths, no doubt to cover their own smiles.

  I groan and cover my face with my hands. “Don’t believe everything you see on TV, Mama Ruth.”

  She pours me another cup of coffee. “Denial is normal at first.”

  I peek at her through my fingers. “Jack and I are just friends.”

  She looks over at Allie. “Isn’t that what you kept telling me about you and your Daniel? That you were ‘just friends.’ ”

  Allie nods mutely. Her hand is still in front of her mouth, but her eyes are dancing.

  Mama Ruth nudges me. “See? Don’t forget me when it’s time to make the wedding plans.”

  I just nod and take a big gulp of coffee then push to my feet. “If we’ve got the details all ironed out, I’d better go.”

  I wave at everyone then drop a kiss on the older woman’s wrinkled cheek. “Thanks for the coffee.”

  As I let myself out, I hear her say, “Denial. But that’s normal.”

  My friends—the traitors—all laugh.

  I tap gently on the hospital room door then peek inside. Ron is lying in the bed, unmoving; no one else is in the room. The big man looks smaller somehow. Beneath his hospital gown, his leg is heavily bandaged. I motion Jennifer to follow me, and we tiptoe in. I set the flowers on the rolling tray beside his bed.

  “We’ll come back later,” I whisper to Jennifer.

  “No need for that; you’re here now,” Ron says dryly from the bed.

  I spin around. “I thought you were asleep.”

  His brown eyes look tired, but they’re twinkling. He pushes up to a sitting position. “That’s what you were supposed to think. If you were Alma.”

  I grimace. “I thought she was helping you.”

  He grunts. “Depends on what you mean by helping.”

  I introduce Jennifer, who smiles politely and accepts Ron’s invitation to the TV remote control and a place on the minicouch in front of it.

  I motion to Ron’s heavily bandaged knee. “So, how are you?”

  “Had to practically take my whole kne
ecap off and put it back on. But they say I should be able to go home Monday.”

  “That sounds really painful. But it’s wonderful that you’ll be back home soon.”

  He shrugs. “I guess. But at least here I have some protection. Alma’s bound to want to take care of me at home.”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “Have you ever seen Misery with Kathy Bates? Alma could be that woman’s evil twin.”

  I laugh then cut it off when he glares at me.

  “Why else do you think she’s here, if not to make me miserable? She’s getting me back for every time I’ve ever disagreed with her since this whole centennial thing started.”

  “Maybe she just wants to help you.”

  He snorts.

  “Good morning,” comes a cheery voice as the door swings open. Alma, holding a cup of coffee out in front of her, stops when she sees me, her smile growing broader. “Dr.—Rachel, what a happy surprise.”

  “Hi, Alma.” I introduce Jennifer, who looks up from the TV with a smile.

  “What a beautiful girl.”

  “Thank you.” Ever since Jennifer’s been here, I’ve been afraid someone will remark on the resemblance between us, but thankfully, either the resemblance is a figment of my imagination or no one finds it worth mentioning, since she’s my sister’s daughter. Either way, I’m relieved.

  “How are you doing?” I ask Alma.

  “My arthritis is acting up a little in my left hip, but I’m doing well, considering.” She hands Ron the coffee. “I finally found that coffee shop you like. Half caf, half decaf, just like you ordered.” Alma’s voice is lilting and sweet.

  He takes a sip then sputters. “Did you put two sugars in this?”

  “Yes, and one creamer, just like you said.”

  He sets it on the tray, and she immediately picks it up. “What’s wrong with it?”

  He shrugs. “It needs more sugar, but it’s all right. I don’t have to have coffee.”

  She smiles and sets the coffee back down. “I’ll tell you what. Since you’ve got company anyway, I’ll run down to the cafeteria and get a few packets of sugar, and you can fix it like you want.”

  “I can do that—,” I start to say, but she holds up her hand.

  “It’ll do my hip good to get some exercise.”

  “You might as well bring more creamer, too, if you’re going,” Ron says.

  When she’s gone, I turn back to Ron. “Oh, I can see how she’s making you miserable.”

  He nods. “It’s awful. She can talk the spots off a leopard. Never quiet.”

  I shake my head. “I was being sarcastic.”

  He looks startled and then a sly gleam comes into his eyes. “You in cahoots with her? Drove all the way down here to make fun of a sick man?”

  This time I snort. “Actually, I came to check on you. And to talk to you about the rodeo.”

  “What about it?”

  “Did you see Wake Up, Shady Grove this week?”

  He nods. “That was some good publicity. Did you two script that?”

  “Hardly. My patients couldn’t quit talking about it. Blair made me look like a lunatic.”

  “Now that’s a little strong. It’s her job to play up the conflict.”

  “Everything that wasn’t conflict is apparently lying on the cutting room floor.”

  “Conflict sells. And we need to sell tickets to the rodeo.”

  “Blair aside, I need some input. I think I’m in over my head.”

  I ask about workers for the concession stand, and he shakes his head. “Too hard to get volunteers. Let Westwood handle it. Make the money back by using Blair’s show to get us as much free publicity as you can. If she wants to see a soap opera between you and the cowboy, give it to her.”

  I ignore his last advice. “What about Jack’s ten-ten-ten idea?”

  “Sounds logical. He’s right. Most people do come to see the bull riders. Discuss it further. But no matter what he says, if you don’t want to do it, stand your ground.” He glances at the door and lowers his voice. “Can’t let this family push us around.”

  I clear my throat. “How do you feel about goat tying?”

  He laughs. “It’s always been a part of the rodeo in these parts. Next thing you know, you’ll be wanting to do away with mutton bustin’.”

  I can feel my face grow hot. “I do want us to be careful about our weight limit on the mutton busting. Mama or Daddy setting the little tots on the back of a sheep is not a big deal, but I’ve seen some kids want to give it a try who weigh as much as any of the sheep do. Nothing fun about watching a sheep collapse as soon as Junior gets on his back.”

  “Get you some scales and weigh those little darlings.”

  I grin. “How soon can you come back to the committee meetings?”

  He reaches over and pats my hand. “You’re doing a fine job. If all goes well, I’ll be there the opening night of the rodeo to cheer you on. Might be using a cane, but I’m planning on being there.”

  “I hope you can be.”

  “You getting along with Westwood okay?”

  “About as well as you are with his mama.”

  He cringes. “Ouch. That bad?”

  I raise my eyebrows. “Well, let’s put it this way. He’s not bringing me coffee then running his legs off to make sure it’s fixed the way I like it.”

  I see a hint of chagrin in his expression, but before he can reply, Alma comes back in. “It’s our lucky day. I found both sugar and creamer down at the nurses’ station.”

  She hands them to Ron, and he nods.

  “Alma?” I say. “Are you coming back to the committee meetings?”

  She frowns. “I don’t think so. I’ll have my hands full taking care of our patient here.”

  “I’m sure Ron can get an in-home nurse and free you up—”

  A loud groan comes from the bed, and we swing around to see Ron holding his knee. “Spasm,” he chokes out, his eyes locked on Alma’s face. “Pillow?” he asks pitifully.

  She hurries over to tuck a pillow under his knee then turns back to me. “I can’t leave him. I’m so sorry, dear. But you and Jack will do just fine.”

  I’m almost positive I see a grin flit across Ron’s face, but when I take a second look, his grimace is firmly in place.

  When the phone rings, I instinctively sit up in bed and grab it from the nightstand. “Hello.”

  “Dr. Donovan, it’s Judy Costin.”

  Relief courses through me just as it does every time a patient calls in the middle of the night and it’s not Tammy or my parents. That puts being awakened at—I glance at my alarm clock—2:00 a.m. into perspective. “Hi, Judy. What’s wrong?” I push my hair back off my face and swing my feet around to the floor. Cocoa and Shadow jump instantly to their feet.

  “I’m okay, but Bobby rolled over a while ago and he musta pulled something. He didn’t want me to call you, especially in the middle of a thunderstorm.”

  Lightning makes my bedroom look like daylight for a split second. I hadn’t even realized it was storming.

  “But that stabbing pain between his shoulders. . .” She stops, and when she speaks again, it’s almost a whisper. “He’s been crying, Doc, or I wouldn’t have called.”

  “How soon can you be at the office?”

  “Fifteen minutes.”

  “I’ll meet you there.”

  “Are you sure? I’ve been watching the weather, and they say the worst of the storm is over. But there’s still going to be a hard summer rain. If you want to wait until it quits completely, that’s fine.”

  “I won’t melt.” I flip on my light switch and search through my closet. “I’ll be right there.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  I stop in midmotion. “Don’t be sorry, Judy. I’m glad I’m here to help. I’ll be praying for Bobby on the way over, and you be praying that God will guide my hands.”

  “We sure will, Dr. Donovan. See you there.”

  When
she hangs up, I fly into hyper mode, and within four minutes, I’m dressed and brushing my teeth. I snag my lip gloss from the drawer and freeze. I forgot about Jennifer. Do I leave her here? Get her up and make her go? Fifteen is surely old enough to stay home by herself. But what if she wakes up and is scared? I glance out the window at the sheets of rain coming down. Especially in this weather.

  I tiptoe to the door of her room. She’s sprawled out on the bed, and it hits me again as it did the other night out on the deck. She’s full grown. Physically, at least. She stirs, and I whisper, “Jenn.”

  Both dogs, apparently taking my whisper as a cue, leap up on the foot of her bed. Jenn jumps and sits up. “What?” Her voice comes out loud and forceful in the dark room.

  “I have an emergency patient, so I have to run to the office. It’s still pouring, so it doesn’t look like Allie will need you to babysit tomorrow. If you want to go with me, you can sleep in when we get back.”

  She flips on her bedside lamp and pushes her hair back from her face. “You want me to go?”

  Part of me does. So I’ll have the company. So I won’t have to worry about her being home alone. But she’s a kid. And it’s not her responsibility to go out in the middle of the night. “It’s totally up to you. I thought you might not want to stay alone.”

  She shrugs and yawns. “I’ve got the dogs. I’ll be fine. I stayed at home alone last month when Mom and Dad went to a conference.”

  I have a sudden vision of my mom leaving me at home at sixteen while she went to Georgia. My dad was there, and I still managed to find trouble. Tammy and I need to talk.

  I guess she reads my face, because she says, “Lissa spent the nights with me, but I was by myself a lot of the time.” She looks at the rain beating against the window and snuggles back down amid the covers with a dog on each side of her feet. “If it’s okay with you, I’ll just stay here and sleep. Unless you need me,” she says, sleep already slurring her tone.

  “I always need you,” I whisper and drop a kiss on her forehead. “I’ll be back in just a little while. You go back to sleep.” I reach over and flip off the lamp switch and tiptoe out the door.