Vera approached, dark hair shot through with silver, knotted at the back of her head and covered with a net. She wiped wet hands on her apron and pulled an order pad out of the pocket.
“What can I get you kids today?”
Wyatt laughed, “Vera, I wish I was still a kid. If I was twenty again I’d ride a few bulls and then take Rachel off to Tulsa for a wild night.”
Vera tsk’d. “Wyatt Johnson, you’re talking about our preacher’s daughter. She teaches Sunday school and watches over your babies in the nursery.”
“Yeah, but in this dream, we’re still young and crazy. Remember?” Wyatt winked at Rachel and picked up the menu. “What’s special today?”
Vera pointed at the white board on the wall near the register. “My special cashewed chicken, and the pile of nothing you’re trying to feed us.”
“Vera, Vera, I guess you won’t give a guy a break.”
“Not a chance.”
He laughed and ordered the cashewed chicken. Rachel ordered a salad. But she wanted that cashewed chicken. She had always wanted what she shouldn’t have, the things that weren’t good for her. Fried chicken, chocolate and the cowboy sitting across from her. The last was new on the list of things she shouldn’t want and couldn’t have.
Wyatt watched Rachel pick at the salad she’d ordered. Lettuce with chopped-up turkey and ham and barely a dab of dressing. He felt kind of guilty digging into the plate of fried chicken chunks over rice that covered his plate, the special gravy oozed over the side and dripped onto the table. Cashews and chopped green onions topped it off.
The way he looked at it, skinny women ought to eat something fried every now and then. He grabbed the saucer from under her coffee cup and scraped some of his chicken onto it.
“What are you doing?” She put her fork down and wiped her mouth.
“Feeding you. If you haven’t got the sense to eat some of Vera’s cashewed chicken, I’m going to help you out.”
“But I don’t want it.”
“Oh, yes, you do.” He grinned, hoping she’d smile and look a little less cornered. Man, what was it about this woman? She didn’t eat. She had a butterfly tattoo. She had secrets.
He had two little girls who needed him to stay focused.
He reached for his iced tea and the band on his left hand glinted, a reminder. And guilt. Because he still wore a ring that symbolized forever with a woman who was gone.
But her memory wasn’t.
He sighed and Rachel lowered her fork. Her eyes were dark, soulful. She didn’t smile but her eyes changed, softened. “You okay?”
“I’m fine. So, are you going to try the cashewed chicken?”
Rachel picked up her fork and took a bite. Her eyes closed and she nodded.
“It’s as good as people say.” Her eyes opened and she flashed him a smile. “And you Johnson boys are as wicked as they say.”
“We’re not really wicked.” He wanted to hug her tight because she was dragging him past a hard place in his life and she didn’t even know it. “We’re just on the edge a lot of the time.”
“Temptation.”
“Reformed.”
The door opened. The lunch crowd was piling in. While they’d been talking the parking lot had filled up with farm trucks, a tractor or two and a few cars. He knew about everyone in Dawson and he figured Rachel did as well.
“We’re about to get caught.”
Rachel shrugged, “Yeah, that’s life in Dawson. I love it here.”
She sounded as if that meant something.
“You know, if you need to talk, I know how to keep a secret.”
Her smile was sweet. She wasn’t a girl from Dawson, but she fit this place, this world. From her T-shirt to her jeans, she was fitting in. But maybe that’s what she did. The life of a preacher’s kid wasn’t easy. They moved a lot, changed towns, changed schools and changed friends.
Maybe she knew how to become the person each town or church expected her to be? Did that mean she wasn’t who he thought she was? That left him kind of unsettled.
“I need to go. I don’t want to leave the girls too long. They…” He stood up and dropped a few bills on the table for their lunch and Vera’s tip. “The girls worry if I’m gone too long.”
Rachel stood up. “Wyatt, if you need anything, I’m here.”
Man, he could think of a list of things he needed. He needed to keep his life together. He took a step back. He really wasn’t ready for this.
The Johnson brothers weren’t the only temptation in town.
Trouble was looking him in the eyes and it was about time he made the great escape. He and Ryder had done a lot of that in their younger days. They had experience. They knew how to race through a hay field to escape an angry dad. They knew how to escape the county deputy on a dirt road. Not exactly life lessons he was proud of.
He touched the brim of his hat. “Thanks for recommending someone. I’ll call Mrs. Douglas.”
“Right, that’s a good idea.”
“Or you could take the job? The girls would love that.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Yeah, of course.”
He bumped into a chair as he backed away from her and a few of the guys called out names and other things he didn’t really want to deal with.
The only good idea right now was to escape Rachel Waters, maybe spend some time at Ryder’s knocking the tar out of the punching bag still hanging in the old hay barn. Their dad had put that thing up years ago. He had taught them one decent lesson in life, other than how to make money. He’d taught them the art of boxing.
And right now felt like a pretty good time to go take a few swings at an inanimate object.
There were a list of reasons why. Wendy’s memory, tugging him back in time and pushing him to think about how he’d let her down. His girls hurting and needing their mom. Rachel Waters with brown eyes and a butterfly tattoo, offering to be there for him but rejecting a job offer to take care of his girls.
Thoughts of Rachel felt a lot like cheating.
Thirty minutes after he left the Mad Cow he was in the barn behind Ryder’s house. He had spent fifteen minutes in that hot, dusty barn slamming his fists into the frayed and faded bag that hung from the rafters.
“Trying to hurt someone?”
Wyatt punched the bag and then grabbed it to keep it from swinging back at him. He turned, swiping his arm across his brow. Boxing in boots and jeans, not the most effective form in the world.
Ryder stood in the doorway, sunlight behind him. They’d taken a few swings at each other over the years. The last time had been about something crazy, a woman that Ryder had hurt. It shouldn’t have mattered to Wyatt—he hadn’t known her. But Ryder had left a trail of broken hearts in his reckless wake.
They hadn’t talked for over a year after that fight.
“No, just exercising.” Wyatt stepped away from the punching bag.
Ryder grinned and shook his head. “Right, and that’s why you were in town having lunch with Rachel Waters.”
“That’s why I don’t like this town.” Wyatt walked past Ryder, into the warm sunlight. At least there was a breeze. He didn’t put his hat back on but stood there for a minute, cooling down.
“Yeah, people talk. Most of the time they’re talking about me. Or at least they used to. Kind of nice to have you being the target of the gossip.”
Wyatt walked on, toward his truck. “How’s Andie?”
“Itching to get out of bed. The church brought a truckload of frozen meals for us and a few of the ladies cleaned the house. Rachel came over yesterday and brought a pie.”
“Of course she did.”
“Want a glass of tea or a bottle of water?” Ryder had stopped and that forced Wyatt to stop and turn around.
“Nope, I need to get home to the girls. Violet is trying to find a housekeeper-slash-nanny for us. I’m leaving it up to her, but I want to keep an eye on things.”
“Wyatt, I know you’re still
angry or hurt. I know this messed you up, but it’s time…”
Wyatt took a step in Ryder’s direction. “Don’t tell me when it’s time, little brother. You think because you’re married and finally getting it together, you have it all figured out. You don’t have a clue how I feel.” Man, he didn’t even know how he felt. So being angry with Ryder, wanting to shove him into the dirt, probably wasn’t the right reaction. He sighed and took a step back, tipping his hat to shade his face.
“I’m sorry, Ryder. But let me figure this out, if you don’t mind.”
“Got it. But I wanted you to know,” Ryder looked down and turned a little red. “We’re praying for you.”
That was a change for his brother. Ryder was now the one with the stronger faith. That was another thing Wyatt was working on getting back. He’d walked away from the ministry and spent a long year blaming God. He’d spent the last six months working through that and trying to find peace.
“Ryder, I appreciate that.”
Ryder grinned. “Yeah, do you appreciate how hard it was to say?”
They both laughed.
“Yeah, cowboys from Dawson don’t have a lot of Dr. Phil moments.”
“Ain’t that just about the truth?” Ryder slapped him on the back. “See you later. If I don’t get in there, she’ll be climbing the curtains.”
Wyatt watched his brother walk away and then he headed for his truck. He sat behind the wheel for a minute, letting things settle inside him and watching as Rachel Waters jogged down the driveway and away from his house.
Now what in the world was that all about?
Chapter Eight
Friday night lights had a different meaning in Dawson, Oklahoma, than it did in Texas. Friday nights in Dawson meant the local rodeo at the community arena. Trucks and trailers were scattered in the field that served as a parking lot and cars parked in the small lot that used to be gravel, but the rain had washed it out last fall and so now it was dirt, grass and some gravel.
Wyatt’s truck and trailer were parked near the pens where livestock were ready for action. There were a half-dozen bulls, a small pen of steers and a few rangy horses. Someone had dropped off a few sheep for the kids’ mutton bustin’ event.
The youth group from Community Church was busy cooking hamburgers on a grill as a fundraiser for their trip to Mexico. Pastor Waters had asked him to think about going as a counselor. He wasn’t ready for that but he’d agreed to pray.
Maybe soon, though.
He watched the crowds file in, taking seats on the old wooden bleachers. His girls were with Violet. She should be there by now. She’d stayed at home to make more calls to prospective housekeepers. He had thought about stopping her. He had managed just fine all this time, so why did he need someone now?
He wasn’t sure he liked the idea of a stranger in his home, taking care of his kids, cooking their meals. The one thing about Violet, she was determined. She’d informed him she had one woman that seemed to be perfect for the job. Great.
“Hey, are you competing tonight?” Ryder walked through the pen of steers, his jeans tucked into boots that were already caked with mud.
The rain they’d had that morning had cooled the air and left the arena pretty soupy. It had also brought a lot of rocks to the surface inside the arena.
“I’m going to rope with Clint Cameron. How’s Andie?”
Ryder shuddered. “Not a good patient. You know she doesn’t like to sit still. But she’ll do it for the girls. Etta is with her tonight.”
Twins. Wyatt shook his head and laughed a little. In less than a month his brother was going to be daddy to not one, but two babies. It had taken Andie and those babies to settle Ryder.
“She’ll survive it. I’m not sure about you.” Wyatt slapped his brother on the back. “You getting on a bull tonight?”
“Andie said if I get on a bull and break my leg, she’ll break my neck. Think she means it?”
“Yeah, she probably does.”
He glanced toward the bleachers again, looking for his girls. He spotted Violet, but not the girls. He scanned the area around her and didn’t see Molly or Kat. Ryder was still talking, but Wyatt held up a hand to stop him.
“I have to go find the girls.”
“Aren’t they with Violet?”
“They were supposed to be.” Wyatt stepped around his brother. “I’ll be back.”
“Do you want me to help you look?”
“No, I’ve got it. You stay here in case they show up over here. Maybe they gave her the slip.”
He walked on the outside of the arena, ignoring a few people who called out to him and sidestepping puddles left behind by the downpour.
A child yelled. He glanced toward the refreshment stand and his heart hammered hard. Molly and Kat, each holding a corn dog. And Rachel Waters standing next to them. He stopped and then moved quick to get out of the way of a few riders about to enter the arena for the opening ceremony.
The horses moved past him and he had to search again for Rachel and the girls. They were standing a short distance away. Molly laughed and Rachel wiped her cheek. Kat was shoving fries in her mouth. Ketchup had dripped down the front of her plaid shirt and her jeans had dirt on the knees. Her pink boots were almost brown from dirt and mud. His little girl.
Rachel looked up and her smile froze when she saw him. He headed in their direction with anger and some other emotion having a doggone war inside him. Why were his girls with Rachel, not Violet?
Man, seeing her with his girls, seeing them smile like that. Come to think of it, he wasn’t even sure he was angry, just confused.
“You have my girls.” He spoke as softly as he could, not raising his voice, but it wasn’t like he was happy.
“I do.” Rachel touched each of their heads. She wasn’t eating a corn dog. “I pulled in right after they did. When we got inside the gate, the girls asked Violet for something to eat. I was heading this way, so I told her I’d get them something. Is that okay?”
“Of course it is.” He said the words like it was easy and didn’t matter.
Rachel remained a few feet away, shifting back and forth on city-girl boots, her jeans a little too long. Her T-shirt said something about joy. A few curls sprang rebelliously from the clip that held her hair in a ponytail.
“I’ll take them back to Violet.”
“Let them finish eating and I’ll take them back with me. They want to see the calves and the sheep.”
“Okay.” She bent and dropped a kiss on the top of Molly’s head and then she hugged Kat. “I’ll see you later.”
“Why don’t you come with us? I’ll show you the horse I traded for this morning.” He didn’t know if she cared about a horse. But he did know that he wanted to keep his daughters smiling.
And the smile he got in return, her smile, kind of shattered his world a little. It also made him regret not thinking this through more carefully.
The girls finished their corn dogs and tossed the sticks in the trash. Rachel wiped their hands with a napkin and then their mouths. Wyatt stood back, like a bystander, observing. She made it all look so easy.
But nothing was simple, not even the way she twisted his emotions. She had somehow hijacked his life and he didn’t think she even knew it.
“Let’s go.” She smiled at him, her hands holding tight to Kat and Molly.
The girls led Rachel as they followed Wyatt back to pens on the north side of the arena. Cattle mooed low and a few sheep bleated their dislike of the muddy pens. A horse whinnied and someone laughed loud. Rachel followed that sound to the source.
The source happened to be tall and wiry with sandy brown hair that curled just a little and a big smile that flashed in a suntanned face. Black framed glasses somehow made his angular features look studious.
He was one of the Cooper brothers, she couldn’t remember which. It surprised her to see him at a local event. He was a bullfighter for the professional bull riding events across the country. Tall and wiry,
he made his living jumping in front of bulls and taking the shots to keep the bull riders safe.
She knew a daredevil when she saw one. And a flirt.
He lived up to his reputation, jumping one of the fences to land in front of her. Wyatt turned, his smile dissolving when the unknown Cooper took off his hat and bowed in front of her.
“Pleasure to meet you, ma’am.” His accent was a little heavy. Andie had told her that she thought he used his Russian heritage to woo the ladies and that his accent hadn’t been as heavy a few years back.
She smiled because he was cute and she wasn’t interested.
Wyatt appeared at her side. She shivered a little because he didn’t appear to be in a great mood. Nor did he appear to be too patient.
“See you later, Travis.” He nodded curtly.
The younger man laughed and mumbled something about striking out before he climbed back over the fence to finish saddling his horse.
“He’s always up to something.” Wyatt led them through a crowd of men and then to his truck and trailer. A pretty chestnut, deep red with white socks, was tied to the back of his trailer.
“He’s beautiful.” Rachel ran a hand down the horse’s sleek neck.
“I thought so. I bought him at the auction the other night. People are dumping horses like crazy.”
“I heard that they’re being abandoned on government land.”
Wyatt nodded. “This guy belonged to some folks over by Grove. They had to sell all of their livestock.”
“I had planned on getting a horse.” She stroked the fine boned face of the gelding. His ears pricked forward and he moved to push his head against her arm.
“Planned. You still could. If you decide to get one, I can take you to the auction and we can find you a good deal.”
“Thanks, but…” She sighed and focused on the horse, much easier than looking at the cowboy leaning against the horse’s saddle where he’d placed his two little girls. His arm was around Molly’s back, holding her in place.
“But?”
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