The Bull Rider's Homecoming

by Jeannie Watt

  “I’m offering a friendly invitation with the full understanding that you are a full-time mom with a full-time job and no need of complications. I also understand that the girls would be along for the ride. Literally.”

  She felt a smile forming on her lips, but she wasn’t certain why.

  He smiled back. “Let’s go for a ride next weekend. You, me and your girls. We can follow the trail into the mountain. I’ll bring lunch.” He didn’t move closer, but it felt as if he had when he quietly repeated, “No complications.”

  Annie pushed her windblown tendrils that had escaped her ponytail back from her face as she fought with herself, trying to come up with a viable reason to say no. “Next Sunday?”

  “Next Sunday.”

  “Mo-om!”

  Annie turned back to the arena and rested her arms on the second highest rail, her heart beating just a little faster as she called, “Figure eight at the jog!”

  She wanted to go for this ride with Trace. It astounded her, but she did. “All right,” she heard herself say. “It’s a date.”

  * * *

  “MOM, THE FURNACE is making that noise again.”

  Annie hated that noise. After resetting the furnace the previous weekend, the old beast had run well for almost forty-eight hours. Then it had made the noise again. Annie had pushed the red button and restarted the furnace, only to have it make the noise twelve hours later. Then six. Today she’d turned on the heat immediately after they’d returned home from riding—two hours ago.

  The heating system in her house was clearly edging toward a major problem, but it wasn’t there yet, which left Annie in a conundrum. Should she call in a repair guy now, three weeks before payday? Or check out a fix-it book from the library and tackle the repair herself? Fix-it book and positive thinking were her go-to options, but honestly? She was a little afraid of the furnace. Moving parts she didn’t mind. Moving parts that involved flames—not a fan.

  “Did you hear me, Mom?” Katie called from the living room, as if the clattering wasn’t readily apparent.

  “Thanks, honey. I’ll take a look.” Push that red button. Hope for the best.

  She headed down the cellar steps, which no longer creaked under her weight, thanks to Grady. He’d done a lot of much-needed carpentry around the place when he’d returned home last summer to repair the tornado-damaged outbuildings. He’d also offered more than once to help her financially, but Annie didn’t feel right taking his money. She’d made her choices in life, just as he’d made his. Not that she was unhappy with her life...she just wished she had more earning power—but that was what happened when one dropped out of college due to an unplanned and difficult pregnancy. Earning power decreased and she didn’t see a whole lot she could do about it until the twins were older. In the meantime, she’d be thankful that she had a job she loved, which paid the bills—as long as there were no unexpected ones—a place to live and healthy girls.

  She’d also hope that the heating system held out until payday so that she could hire a bona fide repair guy instead of doing it herself.

  Annie crossed the basement thinking that the furnace didn’t seem any happier to see her than she was to see it. The rattling sound intensified as she came to a stop in front of it.

  “Three weeks, okay? I’ll turn you on only when it’s absolutely necessary to warm the house. Just...hang on, okay? Because if you don’t, then I have no choice but to try to fix you myself and I don’t want to do that.”

  After the pep talk she turned off the power, turned it on again and the furnace began to hum as if it were brand-new. Annie suspected it was faking her out and that in a matter of an hour or two it would once again make the noise. As it turned out, she barely made it upstairs before the hum turned into a rattle. She crossed the room to the thermostat and turned it off with a snap of her wrist. The rattling stopped and the house was quiet—for two whole seconds until a squeal erupted from one of the bedrooms. A happy squeal, which again reminded Annie to count her blessings.

  She went back to the cupcake batter she’d been in the middle of making when she’d received the furnace alert and lost herself in the soothing routine of baking. She’d just opened the oven door to pop in the first batch when Kristen appeared in the kitchen doorway.

  “Mom?”

  Annie looked over her shoulder before sliding the pan into the oven. “Yes?”

  “It’s getting cold in here.”

  “Put on a sweatshirt. We’re giving the furnace a rest.”

  Her girls exchanged looks. “For how long?”

  “Until ice forms.”

  The twins’ eyes widened—with excitement rather than alarm. Annie laughed, thinking that she needed to take a more childlike approach to the adventures of life. Ice-skating rink in the kitchen? Not a problem. She crossed the room to wrap an arm around each girl, hugging them close. “Kidding. But we’re only going to run the furnace a little bit because of the noise. I’ll get the heaters out of the shop, but we can’t run them full-time because they—”

  “Eat dollars?” Kristen asked.

  Annie hated that the girls had heard her say that enough that they could repeat it, but facts were facts. The heaters did eat dollars. “Pretty much.”

  “That’s okay, Mama. We’re tough.”

  “Girls can be tougher than guys, you know,” Kristen added. “Uncle Grady told us we were way tougher than him when he had to take the slivers out of our feet. He said that he had to get an’thesia to have his slivers taken out!”

  Annie smiled as she got to her feet. A bit of an exaggeration, but she did appreciate his encouraging the girls’ toughness factor.

  “Why don’t you two find your boots and put them away so that we can find them easily next Sunday?” The day of the big trail ride. The no-complications trail ride. Oh, yeah. Annie had the feeling that she was standing at the top of a slippery slope and getting a little too close to the edge. But was she backing up an inch or two in the name of safety and sanity? She was not.

  “We already know where our boots are. And we polished them,” Kristen said. “Does the furnace mean we can’t get new ones?”

  Stab to the heart. “The weather is supposed to get really cold over the next few weeks. We might not be able to ride for a little while, so let’s wait and see.”

  “All right.” The wistful note in Katie’s voice pushed the knife in a little deeper, but facts were facts. Warmth before hobbies. At least their other shoes still fit.

  “Be honest with me...are your toes just barely touching the end of the boots, or are you curling them?” Because the girls had definitely curled their toes to stay into favorite shoes even when Annie could afford to replace them.

  “Barely,” the girls said in unison and Annie had no doubt that they were telling the truth. Okay...maybe the furnace parts wouldn’t cost too much and maybe she could squeeze the boots into the next budget and in the meantime they could wear their old ones.

  Think positive.

  “Do you want us to polish your boots?” Kristen asked as she lugged the polish box out of the pantry and Katie started to spread the newspaper to protect the floor.

  “I’d love it,” Annie said. It was a ritual Grady had started with them to help contain their preriding excitement, and now they wouldn’t dream of heading to Lex’s farm without polishing first.

  Annie reached for her sweatshirt hanging by the door and shrugged into it. It was getting cold fast, which meant that she needed to find the heaters and start burning some dollars.

  * * *

  THE NEXT MORNING the house was frigid when Annie got out of bed. She turned on the thermostat and instantly turned it off again as the grinding rattle started. Okay. Heaters it was.

  She knew from past experience that she couldn’t run electric heaters for three weeks without taking a hug
e hit to her wallet. The money would be better spent on the furnace itself. The question was how much was the part and what would the repair cost with labor?

  With Danielle’s blessing, she left work two hours early on Monday, picked up the girls from Emily’s house just as they arrived there from school and headed off to the public library where she found her favorite fix-it book on the shelf. Flames aside, it would definitely be cheaper to figure out the problem, order the part and attempt to fix it herself. Worst-case scenario, she’d have to hire Marlo to install the part she was going to order from him.

  “Again?” the librarian asked as Annie set the heavy book on the counter to be scanned.

  “Furnace this time. Last time it was a faucet.” Small potatoes compared to a furnace, and no flames involved.

  “If we ever cull this book, I’ll save it for you.”

  “I would love you forever.”

  Annie took the manual to the children’s section and read while Katie and Kristen chose books. By the time they were done, Annie had come to the conclusion that the blower motor was losing a bearing. Of course she would have to replace the entire assembly. She stopped by Marlo’s Small Engine and Appliance Repair on the way out of town and asked if he could order the part for her.

  He made a quick phone call then said, “I can have it by Saturday.”

  She could last until Saturday.

  “I thought you were afraid of tackling the furnace.”

  “Economics have changed my mind.”

  “I wish you luck.” Marlo shook his head. “I don’t like working on oil furnaces. Too temperamental.”

  “Tell me about it,” Annie replied, ignoring the small twist in her gut at his words.

  “I’ll give you a call when the part comes in.”

  Annie patted the counter. “Thanks, Marlo.”

  “Annie?” She turned at the door. “If it’s just the blower motor assembly, you shouldn’t have a problem. It’s the burners that I hate working on.”

  “Then let’s hope it’s the easy fix.” The three-hundred-dollar easy fix—and that was with Marlo charging her his cost for the part, despite the fact that she’d offered to pay more.

  “Can you fix it, Mom?” Katie asked when Annie got back into the car.

  “Not until Saturday when the part comes in.”

  Kristen counted on her fingers. “Five days of eating dollars.”

  “Let’s be thankful it’s not six,” Annie said as she started the car.

  “Or seven,” Katie said.

  “Or seven,” Annie agreed with a smile. Or eight or nine or ten.

  Chapter Six

  Annie Owen’s daughters were beyond cute. Trace hadn’t spent a lot of time around children—and next to no time around them in a one-on-one manner—and even though he was still a touch intimidated by the twins, he assumed that if he treated them like small adults, he’d be okay. So far it seemed to be working.

  “Mr. D’laney,” the twin in the blue coat—Katie?—said in a serious tone, “you gotta be careful saddling Lacey because she blows.”

  “Would you like to walk her while I saddle Snuff?”

  The twin took the reins from him and started leading the old mare in a circle while Trace tossed the saddle up on the cranky old gelding he was going to ride. Trace was well aware that the mare blew—puffed out her belly when being saddled, which resulted in a loose cinch later—but it impressed him that the little girl was aware. Both girls took their horsemanship extremely seriously.

  Annie was busy saddling Daphne for the twin in the red coat, while her own mount pawed the ground impatiently, digging a good-sized hole. Trace gave Snuff a pat on the rump, intercepted the twin leading Lacey in a circle, stopped the mare and quickly tightened the cinch.

  “I think we’re set.”

  The girl put her fingers under the cinch and pulled, testing the snugness, then gave an approving nod. Trace fought a smile as she said, “Would you hold my horse’s head while I mount?”

  “At the fence?”

  “Yes.” He held the mare’s head while the twin clambered up onto the fence and leaped into the saddle. The mare twitched an ear and Trace handed the girl the reins.

  “Katie, right?”

  She beamed at him. “I’m the blue twin. Kristen is the red twin.”

  “I can remember that. Katie Blue.”

  Annie’s mare pawed nervously as she helped her other daughter into the saddle.

  “When’s the last time you rode?” he asked, nodding at the impatient pinto mare.

  “I can handle her.”

  Trace took her at her word. The mare he’d borrowed from Cliff, the neighbor who usually took care of Lex and Grady’s chores when they were on the road, was fresh off pasture and hadn’t been ridden in a while. He’d planned to ride her until Annie told him that she’d prefer not to ride Snuff.

  He waited to mount the gelding until Annie was in the saddle, just in case. The pinto skittered and danced and threw her head, but Annie sat deep and Trace decided to keep his mouth shut rather than offer once again to trade mounts.

  The ride up the trail took longer than it did when Trace rode it alone, but he liked the slower pace, liked listening to the girls chat with one another and talk to their horses. Big plans were discussed—tree forts, their future as ropers and barrel racers—as well as social issues—the mean kid in first recess and whether the best teacher was Mrs. Bell or Mrs. Lawrence.

  “I have them in different classes,” Annie explained.

  “How’s that working out?” Annie’s mare had settled almost as soon as they’d hit the trail and she’d had to work a little.

  “They weren’t at all in favor at first, but now they can tell each other about their day... I think it’s working out. Or I’m scarring them for life. One or the other.”

  Trace grinned at her. “They look pretty happy to me. I think you’re doing something right.”

  “I hope so. It’s a crap shoot each and every day.”

  He’d never thought about how much time and effort went into managing kids and helping them grow into adulthood, possibly because he’d never been managed.

  They finally reached the clearing near the top of the first ridge and dismounted. Katie explained to Trace that he shouldn’t tie his horse up by the reins and he agreed that was a good rule to follow.

  “So you really haven’t spent much time around kids?” Annie asked when he passed her the sandwich bag before sitting on a granite stone a few feet from the one she sat on. The girls had already taken a sandwich each and abandoned them while they scaled the mini boulders behind them.

  “Be careful,” he and Annie said together, then he shook his head as he opened his sandwich.

  “Next to none.”

  “You seem to know what to say and when to say it.”

  “I guess I’m treating them like regular people.”

  “Kids appreciate that,” Annie said. “Good sandwich. What did you put in the tuna fish?”

  “Minced capers.”

  She peeled open the edge of the sandwich and took a look at the filling. “I’ve never heard of that.”

  He gave a small shrug. Neither had he. It was simply something he’d tried once and liked, so he continued to do it. “A little lemon juice, too, but just a touch.”

  “Are you some kind of fancy cook?” It almost sounded like an accusation.

  He shook his head. “Not even close. I just kind of like messing around in the kitchen. Some things come out better. Some worse. The only person I feed is myself, so I can afford to experiment.”

  “My fan base doesn’t appreciate experimentation unless it’s with frosting and sprinkles. All the mainstays...those have to be the same every time or I hear about it.”

  “Tou
gh crowd.”

  “You have no idea.” Annie finished her sandwich then folded the plastic wrapper and tucked it into her jacket pocket. “What else do you do besides cook?”

  “I ride for eight.”

  “And when you aren’t doing that anymore, what will you do?” He didn’t answer immediately and she asked softly, “Do you have a plan?”

  He swallowed the unexpected dryness in his throat. “I do not. I’d like to continue doing something related to bull riding.” As would most of the guys in the sport. “Working for a stock contractor or a bull-training outfit.”

  “Much future in that?”

  “You mean like 401(k)s and stuff like that? I don’t know. I don’t have any real commitments, so as long as I put money away for a rainy day and food on the table, I’m good.”

  He had the strong feeling from the ironic look that crossed Annie’s face that she’d heard those words before. Grady? Or perhaps the father of her kids?

  Annie let out a low whistle and pointed behind him. He turned and saw that bluish-black clouds were rolling in at a remarkable speed.

  “We better get moving,” he said. A gust of wind hit him as he spoke.

  “The weather does change rapidly here, but this wasn’t due in until tomorrow.”

  “I think it’s here now.”

  Annie called the girls while Trace untied the horses. Rather than leading the mares to the rocks as the girls wanted, he tossed them up into their saddles and then mounted. Annie’s mare was once again dancing, but she turned her in a couple of tight circles and the little horse decided that maybe she didn’t mind walking quietly, after all.

  “Can’t really blame her,” Annie said as they started down the mountain. “Wind gets my blood up, too.”

  The wind did more than get the blood up as they headed down the mountain. It cut through Trace’s jacket and blasted down his back. The girls were leading the way, their old mares walking more quickly than they had on the ride up the mountain. Horses tended to move faster going home, but Trace had a feeling that the old girls wanted to get back before the skies opened up. He wanted the same thing. A half mile from the farm, the hail started. Trace dismounted and helped the little girls off their horses, who had started to dance impatiently as hail balls ricocheted off their broad hindquarters.