Betting on Hope

by Debra Clopton

  “I’m glad I can help.”

  Tru finished up about that time and let out a breath as he rocked back on his heels. “You’ve been a big help too. That was intense there for a few minutes. Let’s get him cleaned up.”

  Maggie was completely startled when Tru pulled out a needle and thread from that tackle box and began to stitch cuts on his side of the animal. She was fascinated. And when he’d finished, he held the calf while Jarrod stitched the wounds on his side of the calf.

  “I can’t believe y’all are doing that,” she said at last. “And it looks good.”

  Tru shrugged it off. “You have to be prepared for anything.”

  “Doc’s not always sitting around his office drinking coffee and playing with Clover while yacking with Doobie and Doonie,” Jarrod said, as he continued to work.

  “Most of the time,” Tru amended. “But then other times, he’s swamped. When it rains, it pours. So that leaves us out here in the pasture to fend for ourselves.”

  One more interesting tidbit to highlight in her column.

  When the calf was all doctored up, Jarrod tied its legs together, then scooped it up into his arms and carried it to his truck.

  “Why did he do that?”

  Tru gave her a patient smile, understanding she was clueless. “So it won’t be able to get up between here and Jarrod’s house.”

  “Oh, that makes sense.”

  “Come on, let’s get you back to your car so you can do your thing.”

  “Will the calf live?” she asked.

  “Yes, Jarrod found it soon enough. But if it had been later in the day, probably not. Thanks for coming.”

  “I wasn’t any help other than holding the poor thing. But you and Jarrod were astounding. Did Doc teach y’all that?”

  He laughed. “Some. You’d be amazed what a cowboy has to know how to do. Stitching up things is just one of them.”

  “Amazing. This has nothing to do with my learning to ride, but it’s going into the column anyway. You fellas rock.” She laughed with relief for the hurt calf.

  She grimaced. “Of course Bo might not like it too much, but this is going to up all y’all to hero status.”

  Tru rolled his eyes. “Right.”

  “No, really. That was so wonderful you pulling out that needle and going to work. Everyone can’t do that.”

  Tru started laughing. “Well, Bo sure can’t. The man isn’t too good with blood. But we won’t tell anyone that. Still, why don’t you take my name out of the story and put his in.”

  “Oh, no. This is payback for your part of getting this whole bet going in the first place. Your name is definitely going into this story.”

  21

  Letters flooded in.

  By the time she got back to the computer after her riding lesson, Maggie found her inbox wasn’t just full, it was busting at the seams.

  And she’d been so anxious to read what was coming in. There were a lot of lonely people out there. But there were also a lot of women who dreamed of relocating to a town that sounded just like the town she’d described.

  Of course if everyone could actually do that, the town would be taken over. Realistically, Maggie had no worries that that was going to happen. But who knew? Someone, a few perhaps, might come. And that, she thought, would be cool.

  She fixed herself a sandwich and a glass of lemon water and curled up on the sofa with her computer to read. As always, the time flew when she was doing this. She opened one of the hard copy letters, and just as she sliced it open, she realized there was no return address on it.

  Her mouth went dry and the room swam as she read. It had been over two weeks—a knock at her door made her jump.

  She stuffed the letter into the pocket of her jeans and stowed her emotions as she opened the door. “Tru, hi. What’s up?”

  Her already shaky nerves jangled more at seeing Tru. She hadn’t expected to see him until morning since she’d told him she was expecting a lot of mail and would need to work instead of having their evening ride. He’d said that was fine, so she wasn’t sure what he was doing here.

  “I hope I’m not bothering you.”

  “No, actually, I’ve been hunched over the computer screen and needed a break.” She rubbed her shoulder. “Is something wrong?”

  He was still standing on the porch and he’d gotten this expression on his face, like he didn’t know what to think about her or something.

  “Well, I’m just curious about what’s going to happen after all these women and their dreams start rolling into town. I’m not panicked like poor ol’ Bo. But I am curious.”

  She grimaced. “You read the whole article?” She knew that he’d only had time to scan the headline and a few paragraphs that morning when Bo had confronted her.

  He laughed. “Yeah, I finally had a chance a little while ago. After Bo reacted like the sky was falling, I had to read the whole thing. I have a feeling a few of the other confirmed bachelor cowboys are going to have the same reaction.”

  “But it’s not like they’re going to be forced.” She was glad to have something to take her mind off the letter burning a hole in her pants pocket.

  He shrugged. “A confirmed bachelor can’t help but feel this is going to cramp his style.”

  “So, are you one of those?”

  “No, I’m not actually. I see this for what it is. You figured out a way to get more readers to your column. TV uses romance all the time to sell products. Even my deodorant’s ad is of a guy putting on his antiperspirant so women start falling at his feet.”

  She laughed, despite the fear she was trying to control. “So does it work for you?”

  “You mean my deodorant?”

  She nodded.

  “Well, you’re still standing, so I guess not.”

  Oh, if he only knew. Maggie guessed he wasn’t counting all the women drooling over him at the turkey fry.

  She crossed her arms. “That is, after all, my whole purpose in being here.”

  “Right,” Tru said, as he studied her.

  A shiver of attraction raced down her spine and Maggie tried not to hold his past against him. It wasn’t as if her past was a beauty.

  The note in her pocket was proof of that.

  The note had been written to Trixie. And it clearly stated that whoever sent it knew her real name wasn’t Maggie Hope, but Trixie Pierce. A pickpocket juvenile delinquent.

  But did the sender know about Shane?

  Could it be Shane?

  Maggie’s gaze shifted away from Tru. She seemed distracted. “I came to see if you had time to take a break and come to dinner. At Pops’s. I know you need to work, but I thought you might want to come. He’s having another good day and Jarrod and Bo are going to be there too, and we just thought, since Pops enjoyed visiting with you the other day, it would be nice if you joined us. If you had time.”

  Her expression softened. “You love your Pops so much.”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  She blinked suddenly and glanced off to stare out across the pasture. Was she near tears? When she looked back at him there was the unmistakable glisten of dampness in her eyes.

  “I would love to join all of you for dinner.”

  He stepped close and couldn’t help touching her. He slid his hand to the back of her neck. Felt the throb of her pulse beneath his fingers. “Why are you crying?”

  She shook her head. “No.” She stepped away from his touch.

  “Look, if you’re upset because of Bo this morning, don’t be.” He searched her eyes and felt like there was more. “He’ll get over it. I’ve already told him you aren’t going to force him to make some woman’s dream come true.”

  “Of course not, and I’ll tell him that as soon as I see him.”

  “Good, reassurance is all he needs.”

  Tru held her door for her and she climbed into his truck. As he walked around to his side, it felt oddly like a date. Foolish heart. He’d simply asked her to a family dinner.


  Nothing more . . . but a guy could wish.

  A few hours later he was still wishing. Tru had enjoyed the meal with his family and Maggie and he knew he had fallen completely for Maggie Hope.

  There was a sweetness about her that tugged at him. And it was apparent in the way she cared about Jenna, the kid who needed someone to lean on. It was evident in how she reacted to Pops. That had been one of the reasons he’d wanted her at dinner tonight, so she could see Pops more like his old self.

  When they arrived back at the cabin, he knew he was in serious trouble on so many fronts. He’d been preoccupied all evening as his thoughts ran wild. He needed to fall in love with a woman who already had children.

  He would have to let his dreams of having a child of his own blood go. But he knew marrying someone with young children was his best plan. At least with this plan she would have experienced the whole motherhood package and then she might not grow to resent that he couldn’t give her babies of her own.

  Maggie needed the entire experience. He’d seen how much it bothered her that Jenna was going to give up her baby to adoption.

  She would never be okay with not carrying her own children. And he couldn’t live with himself if the woman he fell in love with came to resent him.

  It was hard, and looking at Maggie, fresh-faced and lovely, with the whole world ahead of her, he knew he had no business feeling anything toward her.

  But he did.

  And that was going to make getting through the next month the hardest thing he’d ever done.

  But he had to make it through the end of this charade and then Maggie would go on to her life. And he would go on with his.

  “You sure are quiet. I loved dinner. I think Bo is going to be okay. He seemed fine after he calmed down.”

  “Yup, he’ll live.” He wasn’t worrying about Bo right now. Bo could take care of himself. “I’ll walk you to your door,” he said, not ready for the night to end even knowing it wasn’t what he needed to be doing.

  “Thanks. I hate to admit it, but I get a little spooked out here at night by myself. I like to be inside with the doors and windows closed before dark.”

  “For real?”

  She nodded sheepishly. “Yeah, I’m a big baby. I’m a city girl, remember. I haven’t spent any time in the woods with the hoot owls hooting and the coyotes doing their weird, eerie thing.”

  “Just wait right there, I’ll walk you.”

  She waited for him to open her door and then she hopped to the ground. A coyote wailed, sounding like the war song of a Native American tribe. She shivered and stepped close. Instinctively he wrapped an arm over her shoulders and looked down at her.

  “I won’t let anything happen to you. If I’d known it spooked you, I wouldn’t have put you out here. I’m sure the powers that be would have put you in town at the Sweet Dreams Motel. If not, then I would have. They’re clean and neat, and right in town.”

  She was staring up at him and her eyes turned luminous in the moonlight. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped and lost his voice. She was beautiful.

  “I’ve gotten better. And I wish I could get comfortable. I tried walking out on the deck one night, but I didn’t last long.”

  He wanted to kiss her again. He knew he could want that every day for the rest of his life. Looking down at her, a deep wave of yearning drowned him. He started walking toward the cabin, keeping a firm arm around her shoulders. At least if they were moving he couldn’t kiss her. He needed to get her inside with the door firmly locked between them.

  Once they reached the porch, he let his arm drop away from her. “There you go, safe and sound. I’ll wait while you go inside and lock up. And if you need anything, just call me and I’ll come down.”

  She was still staring at him, biting her bottom lip and looking as if . . . as if she was wishing he’d kiss her.

  He held himself in place with an iron will and tipped his hat.

  “Goodnight, Tru,” she said, then went inside the cabin.

  He turned to go—flee was a better term. He was almost to the truck, almost home free, when her sweet voice halted him.

  “Tru.”

  He spun on one boot heel.

  “Would you like some coffee?”

  No. “Sounds good. We could sit back there on the deck and enjoy it.”

  She smiled. “Yes. And enjoy the peace and tranquility.”

  He groaned inwardly, knowing it was a dangerous idea. “Exactly. We wouldn’t want you going back to the city without having learned to enjoy one of the best things about living in the country.”

  She opened the door wide and the warm light spilled out on the porch, lighting his way inside.

  He was just being a friend.

  Had they become friends?

  Truth was, he wasn’t sure what they were. But tonight, he was going to ignore the warning bells and he was going to enjoy her company sitting on the porch, watching the stars, and listening to the coyotes and the crickets.

  And that was that.

  She would be gone soon enough and he would still be here. Tonight he would help her enjoy country life.

  That was what he told himself. He knew his reasons for staying were purely one-sided. He just wasn’t ready to walk away.

  22

  She was flirting with fire.

  Yes, she was, but she didn’t want the night to end. She wanted . . . enjoyed talking to Tru. She loved the way that he loved his Pops. And she wondered at the deeper things that she could see moving behind his eyes. Tru Monahan had only shown her that he was a good and decent man. But there was something going on with him.

  Something was driving Tru and she could feel it. What made the man so elusive, as if, other than his brothers, there were things he held inside that no one was allowed to see?

  She walked straight to the coffeemaker and went to work getting a pot brewing. Time to do something other than obsess about the man standing in the cabin with her. He was such a puzzle to her. He wasn’t good for her, not at all what she needed in a man . . . and yet he drew her. Watching him with his Pops warmed her heart and stirred a deep longing in her. And then there was the memory of his kiss . . .

  She scooped the coffee from the container and then filled the carafe with water. She glanced over her shoulder to see Tru stuff his fingers in his jeans pockets and look around the space.

  “Has this been comfortable enough? Other than having you scared and spooked out?”

  She chuckled at that. “It’s been perfect. And I’ve done pretty good after that first night. Once I’m locked in, I’m fine. But coming back after dark is when I get my wimpy girl on.”

  His lips parted into a heart-tugging smile. Goodness, that smile caused dancing to break out in the pit of her stomach. This might have been a bad idea. Might have been? Ha. Of course it was.

  She crossed to the back door and opened it. Tru stepped beside her immediately and the scent of his aftershave, spicy but subtle, taunted her as it had been doing all evening. He led the way out onto the deck instead of waiting for her to go first.

  She realized belatedly that the only chair was a love seat rocker sitting in the corner. There was plenty of room on the rustic wooden rocking bench, but still . . . the image of them snuggling on the swing burned into her mind and she suddenly wanted to bang her head against her palm. What had she been thinking?

  She sat down, making sure to sit as far to one side as she could get as she studied the darkness, her nerves a jumbled mess.

  Tru sat down beside her as if it was no big deal.

  “I love this spot.” He studied the darkness. “The bubbling brook makes a very peaceful refuge. You’re missing that when all you can concentrate on is the sound of the coyotes.”

  She glanced at him, unable to stop herself. He smiled.

  “Let the other sounds seep in around you. There’s peace there. Feel it?”

  She was only aware of the man beside her.

  For a few seconds they stared at each oth
er and she felt that unbelievable tug on her heart. Maggie had always, deep down, felt so alone in the world.

  “Maggie, why don’t you ever talk about your family?”

  Her breath caught at his question and Maggie shot a startled gaze at him. “I. I, um,” she stumbled over her words. “Because, there’s nothing good to talk about.”

  It sounded so stark when voiced.

  “I’ve never had what you and your grandfather and your brothers have.” She sighed. “I’ve wished for it.”

  “It’s a nice thing to wish for.” His words were low, his gaze searching, his question tense. “What was your family like?”

  Maggie’s nerves balled tightly. “Different.” She couldn’t tell him about her past. What would he think? She had a mother who was . . . she couldn’t tell him about her mother. And she had a father who was in prison. Her name wasn’t even what she said it was.

  She looked up at the sky. “It is beautiful out here,” she said, then stood. “I’ll get that coffee. How do you like yours?”

  He stood. “I’ll fix it.”

  “Is there some secret to the way you fix it?” She hurried inside, needing something to do.

  “No. So why do you never talk about your family?” he cornered her at the coffee pot.

  She stiffened. “There’s really nothing to share.” She poured coffee into the two mugs she’d set on the counter earlier. Her hand trembled as she passed one to him. “The cream and sugar are there. I’m sorry I don’t have a lot of different flavors.”

  He took the coffee and set it on the counter. “So, what about your family?”

  She faced the counter as she stirred a teaspoon of sugar into her coffee. He stepped close and reached around her to cover her hand with his. “I want to know about you, Maggie.” His words were a soft whisper against her ear.

  It was suddenly hard to breathe. He was so close, and his hand so gentle as his thumb caressed hers. Slowly pulling her fingers away from the cup, he drew her around to face him. “There is something so sad in your eyes. And today, when you teared up, what were you thinking about?”