The Cowboy's Family

by Brenda Minton

  A jacket on the hook next to his hat caught his attention. Not his jacket. He closed his eyes and remembered Rachel taking it off and hanging it there. Man, for a minute he almost felt at ease.

  He glanced away, not wanting Violet to notice that jacket. It didn’t mean anything, but it would imply a lot. He didn’t want that hornet’s nest opened, especially when there was nothing to know.

  “You know that isn’t what I mean. I don’t want a day visit, Wyatt.” Violet was a small woman with a will the size of Mount Rushmore. “I want to take the girls, maybe for the summer. I think you need time to get your head on straight. You can’t do this, taking care of them, the house and the ranch, alone. I know you’re trying, but you need help.”

  Anger simmered and he couldn’t look at her. If his head hadn’t been on straight, as she’d implied, he would have lost it right at that moment. He reached for his hat and shoved it down on his head. What he really wanted to do was walk out the door. If it hadn’t been for his girls he might have.

  “I’m together, Violet. I’m not a perfect parent. My cooking skills are pretty limited, but I’m doing what counts. I’m here every single day taking care of my girls. I’m the person making their breakfast and the guy who tucks them in at night.”

  Tears welled up in Violet’s eyes. “I know you’re a good dad. But I also think that maybe you’re suffering and that isn’t good for my granddaughters.”

  He turned away from his mother-in-law and rested a hand on the door, sucking in deep breaths, trying to keep it together before she had a real case against him.

  “I’m not letting you take my girls.”

  “Wyatt, I didn’t say I wanted to take them. I want to give you a break. Maybe you can find a housekeeper, someone to help with cooking and laundry? They’re my granddaughters and I’m worried, that’s all.”

  His daughters. He started to remind her of that fact, but footsteps in the hallway stopped him. He looked past Violet and smiled at Kat and Molly.

  Molly’s nose scrunched and her eyes narrowed as she looked from her father to her grandmother and he wondered how much she’d overheard, or if she’d heard any of it. Maybe she sensed the problem. Either way, he wasn’t going to let her be a part of this.

  Violet picked up her purse. She opened her mouth and he shot her a look that stopped her from saying more.

  “Let’s go, girls. We’re going to the Mad Cow and I bet Vera will cook us up something special.”

  “Fried bologna sandwich?” Molly’s eyes lit up and Violet gasped.

  Wyatt picked up his two girls, one in each arm and walked through the back door, leaning against it to hold it open for his mother-in-law. She wasn’t smiling and he didn’t know if it was because she’d given up or was planning a new strategy. Maybe she was still trying to get over the idea of fried bologna?

  A housekeeper, she’d said. As if he hadn’t given it a lot of thought. But the one person that kept coming to mind was the last person he needed in his home on a daily basis.

  Violet stood there for a moment, not walking through the door. He didn’t have a clue what she expected from him. Maybe she wanted him to promise to send the girls with her, or maybe she expected him to cave on the subject of a housekeeper.

  She walked out the door and he made the worst decision he figured he’d made in years.

  “Okay, Violet, I’ll hire a housekeeper.” He let the door close and he followed her down the steps to her car. She’d won. He didn’t know how, but he did know that this was a victory for his mother-in-law.

  A warm breeze whipped the sheets on the clothesline. In the bright light of the full moon, Rachel unpinned the clothes she’d hung up earlier and pulled them down. She folded the crisp sheets, holding them to her face to breathe in the outdoor scent. They smelled like clover and fresh air.

  The clip-clop of hooves on the paved road caught her attention. She looked into the dark and wondered who was lucky enough to be riding tonight. It was a beautiful evening with a clear sky and a light breeze that promised rain, but not yet.

  She stood in the dark holding a pillow case she’d pulled down from the line and whispering for her dog to stay still. The German shepherd stayed at her side but he growled low, a warning for anyone who came too close.

  The horse stopped and then the clip-clop continued. Instead of going down the road it was coming up the drive, hooves crunching on gravel. She grabbed the dog’s collar.

  “Laundry this late at night?” Wyatt’s voice called from the dark shadows.

  “Riding this late at night?”

  He rode closer and the moonlight caught his face and the big gray that he rode. She shivered and felt the chill of the breeze against her arms.

  “I had to get out of the house.”

  “Who’s with the girls?” It came out like an accusation. She hadn’t meant that. “I’m sorry, that’s none of my business.”

  “No, it isn’t.” He sat steady on the horse that shifted a little and pawed the ground. “My mother-in-law.”

  “Oh, I see.” But she didn’t. She didn’t know Wyatt, not really. She didn’t know his life, other than caring about the girls and hearing about his wife’s death. He didn’t really share personal details.

  She got that, because neither did she. Too many times in the past when she’d shared, it had been recycled and used against her.

  “She showed up this evening.” He swung down off the horse, landing lightly on the ground and holding the reins as he stood there.

  Unsure. She was surprised to see him unsure. He should have looked confident standing there next to that horse. She wondered if it was about his mother-in-law. His hand went up, catching hold of the horse’s bridle. The big animal pushed at his arm and Wyatt held him tight.

  “I’m sure the girls are happy to see her.” She held on to the laundry basket with one arm and with her left hand she kept hold of the dog that growled a low warning.

  “They were. Unfortunately I was in the process of burning the house down when she showed up.” Wyatt reached up and pulled something off his saddle. Her jacket that she’d left at his house. “I thought you might need this.”

  He dropped it in the laundry basket on top of the sheets she’d just folded. And then he stood there. She looked up, caught him watching her. It was hard to breathe when he did that.

  “Would you like to go for a ride?” He said it so easy and nothing was that easy. No word fit him better than complicated. Everything about him fit into that box.

  His mother-in-law was at his house and he was riding in the dark. That meant something other than “nice night for a ride.”

  But a moonlight ride with Wyatt Johnson seemed to trump the fear of complications and whatever was going on with him. Her gaze shifted to the tiny parsonage that she shared with her parents. Her mom was inside knitting. She’d had a rough day, a rough month. Rachel’s dad was working on Sunday’s sermon.

  “We won’t be gone long.” Wyatt moved a little closer.

  “I shouldn’t. I have more laundry to do.”

  He laughed a little. “Are you always the good daughter?”

  No, she wasn’t.

  Cynthia was the good one. That fact didn’t hurt the way it once had. Life changed. Cynthia was married and had a family. Rachel lived with her parents, making sure their mother stayed healthy. It was an easy choice to make. Stay with her parents, help with their ministry and take care of them. Leaving wasn’t an option, not when her brother and sister both lived on the other side of the country.

  Her gaze landed on Wyatt’s dusty boots and slid up. When she reached his face, he was smiling. And he winked. She nearly dropped the laundry basket and in her shock, she let go of the dog. Wolfgang jumped away from her. His tail wagged and he made a beeline for Wyatt.

  “Hey now, you’re a big old dog.” His hand went out and the dog dropped on his belly. “And he’s friendly.”

  “He isn’t supposed to be.”

  “Oh, you want him to attack m
e?” Wyatt grinned again.

  “No, but I don’t want him to lose his edge. He’s a guard dog.”

  “Right.” Wyatt continued to rub the dog behind the ears. “So, you want to go? I can’t be gone too long.”

  Rachel bit down on her bottom lip and then she nodded.

  “Okay, let me take Wolfgang in and I’ll put on boots.”

  “Flip-flops are okay.”

  “Right, so you can laugh at the city girl who wore the wrong shoes to go riding.”

  “Okay, I’ll stand out here and hold on to Gatsby.”

  She laughed. “Gatsby.”

  “Oh, laughter from the woman with a dog named Wolfgang?”

  She whistled and Wolfgang trotted to her side. “I’ll be right back.”

  As she walked through the back door, letting it bang softly behind her, Rachel heard her dad on the phone. She glanced at the clock, surprised that he’d have a call this late at night. Hopefully no one was hurt or sick. Late calls were almost never a good thing. She peeked into the living room. Her mom was still sitting in the recliner next to the window, the lamp glowing soft light and her hands working the knitting needles as the scarf in her lap grew.

  “Hey, I’m going riding with Wyatt Johnson.” Rachel sat the basket of laundry on a chair and used what she hoped was a casual, it’s-really-nothing voice.

  Her mom glanced up. Gloria Waters always looked serene. Rachel envied that about her mother. She envied that her mom and sister could eat cake and never gain an ounce. And yeah, she knew that envy was wrong. But there were days she could really use a piece of cake.

  Or maybe the whole cake. And that was the problem.

  “Riding with Wyatt?” Gloria put her knitting down. “Okay, well, be careful.”

  What had she expected her mom to say? That she couldn’t go? Rachel smiled. She was a dozen years past the time when her parents made decisions for her. And yet she still checked with them.

  Her father’s voice carried from his office. “I’m not sure if we’re interested, Bill. I know we’ve talked about that. Let me pray on this…”

  His voice faded. Rachel couldn’t breathe for a second because she’d heard similar conversations in the past. She hadn’t expected it now. She shifted her gaze to her mom and got a shrug, nothing more.

  “What’s going on?”

  “I’m not sure. Your dad missed a call from Bill and he called him back.”

  Rachel nodded.

  Her mom picked up her knitting again as if it didn’t matter. Maybe it didn’t. Maybe it was another door opening, another one closing. But she didn’t want this door closed.

  “I should go. Wyatt is waiting.”

  She walked out the back door still wearing her flip-flops. It wasn’t cold but the air was damp and the breeze blew against her bare arms. She shrugged into the jacket that Wyatt had given her before she went inside.

  “Ready to go?” Wyatt looked down at her feet. “I was kind of joking about shoes. Do you have boots?”

  “I do. I’m sorry.” She glanced back at the house.

  “It isn’t a big deal. You can wear those.” His booted foot went into the stirrup and he swung into the saddle. He reached for her hand. “Come on.”

  She hesitated and then she grasped his hand. Strong fingers wrapped around hers. It felt like a lifeline.

  Chapter Six

  Wyatt grasped Rachel’s hand and her fingers wrapped tight around his. It was easier to think about riding than to think about the lost look on her face when she walked out of the house. She had looked pretty close to shell-shocked.

  “Put your foot in the stirrup.” He moved his left foot and she slid her foot into the stirrup. “And up you go.”

  He pulled and she swung her right leg up and over, landing behind him. The horse sidestepped and then settled. Her foot was out of the stirrup. He slid his foot back into place and glanced back at her.

  “Ready?”

  She nodded but didn’t say anything. Three minutes in the house shouldn’t have done this to her. Maybe she’d had a day like his?

  Gatsby headed down the road at an easy clip, his gait smooth, his long stride eating up the ground and putting distance between them and the parsonage. Rachel was stiff behind him, holding the saddle rather than wrapping her arms around his waist.

  “Where are we going?” Her voice trembled a little. She was close to his back but didn’t touch him.

  “Nowhere, just riding. I haven’t done this in years. Since Violet is at the house I decided to get out and clear my head.”

  He was taking steps. The girls were with Violet. They were fine. He was fine. Rachel Waters was sitting behind him, and he thought he could hear a quiet sob as the horse’s hooves pounded the pavement.

  “We’ve got land down here. I’m going to cut across the field and hit a dirt road that will take us back to your place.”

  She didn’t answer.

  The gate was open and he rode Gatsby through the entrance. They hadn’t put livestock on this place since last fall. The grass was growing up and in a month or so they’d cut it for hay.

  The moon was almost full and the silver light that shone down on the field was bright. The grass blew and the moonlight caught the blades, turning them silvery green. Wyatt slowed the horse to an easy walk. Behind him, Rachel sighed. He hoped she’d relaxed a little.

  They rode through the field. Wyatt felt the presence of the woman behind him, even though she hadn’t touched him. He’d been impulsive in his life, but this one had him questioning what in the world he’d done. He’d planned on taking a ride and clearing his head. It wasn’t often that he had a few minutes alone. Instead of being alone, he had Rachel Waters on the back of his horse.

  Out of the corner of his eye he saw a flash of something running through the grass. The horse must have seen it at the same time. The animal jumped a little, knocking Rachel forward. Wyatt held the reins steady and tightened his legs around the animal’s middle.

  “Easy there, Gats. It’s a nice night for a ride, but I’m not looking for a big run.”

  Rachel’s arms were now tight around his waist. He smiled and remembered high school, pretending a car had died or run out of gas on a back road. He kind of figured he could spur Gatsby just little and send the animal running across the field, and keep Rachel Waters holding tight.

  Instead he eased up on the reins but kept the horse at a steady walk. “He’s fine, just startled. I think that was a coyote.”

  “I think so, too.” Rachel’s cheek brushed his back and then was gone. But her hands were still at his waist.

  “So what happened back at the house?” He eased into the conversation the same way he eased his way into the saddle of a green broke horse.

  “Why don’t you tell me what happened with your mother-in-law?”

  He glanced back and then refocused on the trail that was overgrown from years of neglected riding. Rachel readjusted behind him. Her arms slipped from his middle and her hands grabbed the sides of his shirt.

  “Okay, rock, paper, scissors.” He turned sideways in the saddle and held his hand out.

  She shook her head but she smiled and held her hand out.

  “Fine. One, two, three.” She cut his paper with scissors.

  He groaned. “Me first. Great. My mother-in-law isn’t positive I’m fit to be a parent right now.”

  She didn’t respond.

  “You still back there?” He glanced back, pushing his hat up a little to get a better look at the woman be hind him.

  “I’m here.” And then a sweet pause with her hands on his waist. “She’s wrong.”

  “Thanks.” He spurred Gatsby a little and the horse picked up his pace. “He’ll be a good horse when we’re done breaking him.”

  “Done breaking him!”

  “Yeah, he hasn’t ridden double before tonight. In a few weeks we’re going to start him on roping.”

  “Great, I’m practice.”

  No, not practice, he wanted to tell
her. But she was a soft, easy way to slip back into life. He hadn’t thought about dating too much, about any other woman taking Wendy’s place. It still wasn’t the direction he planned to take, but life was pulling him back in.

  “You’re not practice. You’re helping me.” He assured her, smiling as the words slipped out, meaning more than she would understand.

  “Oh, so I can add horse trainer to my résumé?”

  That’s right, they were talking about the horse being broke to ride double, not about his dating life.

  “Yeah, and since I spilled it, I think it’s your turn to talk.”

  No answer. They rode for a few minutes in total silence. No, not total silence, tree frogs sang and a few night birds screeched. Her arms slid around his waist again. Her chin brushed his shoulder.

  “I really can’t talk about it. It has to do with my dad and the church.”

  The years in Florida doing youth ministry weren’t that far behind him. He got that she couldn’t talk. But whatever had happened, it’d upset her. He leaned back a little, turning his head. It caught him by surprise, that she was so close. His cheek brushed hers and she moved back.

  A Justin McBride song filled the night air. Wyatt groaned and reached into his pocket for his phone. It was Violet. He answered and in the background he could hear Molly crying. He’d been wrong, to take off like this, to leave them.

  “I’ll be home in five minutes.” He spoke softly to his mother-in-law, offered more assurances and slid the phone back into his pocket. “Mind going back to my place?”

  She shook her head, but he wondered. If he was her, he’d probably mind. Man, even he wasn’t crazy about going back. It wasn’t about his girls. It was about not wanting to face Violet, not with Rachel on the back of his horse.

  It took less than five minutes to get from the field to the dirt road and back to Wyatt’s house. Rachel held tight as the horse covered the ground in an easy lope. She tried hard not to think about falling off at the pace they were going.

  Falling off or facing Wyatt’s mother-in-law? She had to wonder a little about which one would be worse. Falling off would leave more marks. She wasn’t that stupid.