On Lone Star Trail

by Amanda Cabot

  So far she seemed to be enjoying the day. Gillian had asked about the events during the drive, but once they’d arrived she’d seemed content to simply look around. They’d watched cattle being herded into pens behind the chutes, the arena being groomed by tractors pulling huge spiked rollers, and the stands filling with people wearing everything from jeans and Stetsons to long flowing skirts and flower-bedecked hats that TJ suspected were a fashion faux pas.

  Like him, Gillian had worn jeans, a Western shirt with pearl snaps, and a wide-brimmed cowboy-style hat. The difference was, she was wearing boots that looked like they’d come from Sam’s Bootery while his were mass-produced. TJ doubted anyone would recognize her as Gillian Hodge, renowned concert pianist. Today she was simply a woman attending her first rodeo.

  Her smile left no doubt that she was having fun. “Those guys look just like cowboys from those old Westerns Sally used to watch.” Not only were the men clad in regulation cowboy garb, but they were seated on intricately carved saddles atop some of the finest horseflesh TJ had seen. Though this wasn’t a major stop on the rodeo circuit, it drew its share of top-ranked contestants.

  “Only one problem: the guys from Bonanza didn’t have cell phones.” TJ pointed toward the man engrossed in a conversation.

  “I’m going to pretend I don’t see that. That way, I can tell myself I’m back in the Wild West.”

  TJ had never understood why filmmakers and some authors glamorized that period of American history. He’d heard of families taking vacations in covered wagons, forgetting the fact that most of the pioneers on the Oregon Trail had walked beside those wagons rather than riding in the dubious comfort of a Conestoga.

  “I assure you this is a twenty-first-century rodeo. If the cell phones aren’t enough proof, check out that electronic scoreboard.” TJ pointed to the large sign displaying sponsors’ products, then smiled at the woman seated next to him. His reservations had been misplaced.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer’s voice boomed throughout the arena, “please rise for the presentation of colors.”

  Two riders entered the arena, one carrying the United States flag, the other the Texas lone star. When they reached the center, the announcer led the audience in the pledge of allegiance followed by a singing of “The Star Spangled Banner.” As they took their seats again, TJ noticed Gillian blinking rapidly.

  “That’s one of those moments that make me proud to be an American,” she said, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.

  “I know what you mean. The national anthem never fails to send chills down my spine.” Without conscious thought, he reached over and clasped her hand. It felt good—so very good—to be touching her like this, and when she smiled, TJ felt his heart leap. Today was not a mistake. Far from it. Coming here was the best move he’d made in a long time.

  As the tie-down roping began, TJ kept Gillian’s hand in his. Though her attention was focused on the arena, his gaze rotated between the event and the woman next to him. Watching Gillian watch the calf emerge from the chute and look around as if puzzled over why it was there, was even more fun than staring at the animal. As the audience began to laugh at the calf’s indecision, it moved forward another foot. An instant later the cowboy burst from his chute and headed for the calf.

  Though the calf ran, it was no match for the cowboy and his well-trained horse. Within seconds, the calf had a rope around its neck. The rider leapt from his horse, picked up the calf, dropped it on its side, tied three legs together, then threw his hands into the air, telling the timekeeper he was done.

  “Wow!” Gillian stared at the man and the calf, then at the scoreboard. “What are they waiting for?”

  “There’s a six-second delay,” TJ explained. “If the calf frees itself, the rider is disqualified.” But the calf remained on the ground, his legs trussed, and the cowboy garnered the best score yet.

  “I can’t believe they do all that so quickly,” Gillian said, her voice filled with enthusiasm after they’d watched a few more entrants successfully rope their calves.

  “Not everyone does.” As if on cue, the next rider failed to rope the calf, leading the announcer to call out, “No time.”

  “There’s nothing a contestant hates more than to get a ‘no time,’” TJ explained.

  Gillian looked down at the line of cowboys waiting for their turn in the chutes. “Why do they do it?”

  “You mean other than for sport? They can earn some impressive purses if they’re good enough, and there are always the bragging rights. But if you’re asking why anyone would want to tie a calf’s legs, tie-down roping is like many of the rodeo events. It has its background in ranching. The same skills you just saw are important on a ranch or a cattle drive. A cowboy needs to be able to catch and restrain a calf for branding and even doctoring.”

  “I hadn’t thought about that.” Gillian turned toward TJ, her face lit with a mischievous smile. “All right. I’ll admit it. Before today I never thought about cattle ranching. I eat steaks and own my share of leather goods, but I never thought about how those things were produced.” She gave her new boots a look that told TJ she had a different perspective on cowhide.

  “It’s a business, always has been,” TJ said. “Technology has changed some things, but you’re still dealing with animals, and they can be unpredictable. Like this one.” He pointed toward the calf running in a zigzag pattern, trying to elude the cowboy. “He doesn’t want to be roped.” But he was.

  Gillian’s hand moved within his grip, her fingers lacing with his. “How do you know all this?”

  “I’m a Texan.”

  As he’d hoped, she chuckled. “Don’t tell me they teach Rodeo 101 in school.”

  “Okay. I won’t.”

  Her chuckle turned into a full-fledged laugh.

  “This is really fun,” she said while the arena was being groomed between events. “I’m so glad you invited me.”

  They both rose as the family that had been next to them returned carrying paper trays laden with hot dogs, fries, and sodas. When they were once again seated, Gillian’s smile broadened. “I mean it, TJ. This is the most fun I’ve had in years.”

  Before he knew what was happening, she moved closer, her head tipping to the side as she kissed his cheek. “Thanks.”

  For a second TJ was too startled to do anything but stare at Gillian. When he’d thought about the day, kisses—even casual ones like this—had not been part of it. Though he’d suffered hugs at the funeral, even the most demonstrative women had seemed to realize he would not welcome a kiss. His wife’s lips had been the last to touch him, but now Gillian had changed all that by doing the unexpected.

  TJ wasn’t certain how long it took him to find his voice and manage to stammer out, “I’m glad you’re enjoying the rodeo.” It was probably only a second or two, but as he pronounced the last word, he knew he’d done something wrong. Though the change was subtle, TJ saw the light in Gillian’s eyes dim ever so little. Somehow he’d hurt her, when that was the last thing he’d intended. He wanted to say something—anything—to restore the gleam, but his brain refused to think of anything other than how good it had felt to have Gillian’s lips on his cheek.

  Why had she done that? Gillian wished she could rewind the tape and eliminate that foolishly impulsive kiss. She knew TJ wasn’t looking for a romantic relationship. They were friends—just friends—and while it was true that hugs and kisses on the cheeks were common among friends, it was obvious she had made TJ uncomfortable. Oh, he’d done his best to hide it, but there was no ignoring the way he’d turned into a stone statue the moment her lips had touched his cheek.

  Gillian took a deep breath, trying to convince herself this was a minor glitch, not an earth-shattering event. Though she was sorry she’d embarrassed him, she could not regret the kiss itself. Her lips could still feel the faint whisker stubble, and she could still smell
soap and sunblock, ordinary fragrances that combined with the scent that was uniquely TJ to create something unforgettable.

  She knew she’d remember the moment her lips had touched his cheek. Perhaps she’d even dream of it. But one thing she would not do was talk about it. Not to TJ, not to anyone.

  Settling back in her seat, Gillian searched for a subject to put him at ease. “Did you ever dream of being a rodeo star?” she asked. That seemed likely for a boy growing up in a state with so many champions.

  He shook his head. “My dream was owning a motorcycle.”

  “And now you do.”

  “Yeah. Next month marks a year.”

  He said it casually, and yet the simple statement surprised Gillian. “I assumed you’d had it much longer. I don’t know much about bikes, but I thought it was older than a year.”

  “It is. I had my eye on it for ten years, but my wife didn’t like motorcycles.”

  “Smart woman.” Though she would not have introduced the subject, now that TJ had, Gillian was grateful for the opportunity to learn more about the woman who still owned TJ’s heart. At times Gillian had believed TJ was healing, that his grief was lessening, but his reaction to her kiss had proven how wrong she was. TJ wasn’t ready to move on. Perhaps he never would be.

  “Deb was a smart woman.” He nodded to emphasize his words. “You would have liked her. She wasn’t a fancy person, but she had a real knack for getting along with people.”

  Though TJ stared into the distance for a moment, Gillian knew he wasn’t seeing the other side of the arena or the scoreboard. His thoughts were focused on the woman who’d been his wife.

  “Everyone who met Deb liked her, even her worst students.”

  “She was a teacher like you?” Gillian wasn’t certain why, but she was surprised. When he’d spoken of his wife before, TJ had focused on her illness, not what she’d done with her life.

  “She was a teacher, but not like me.” He corrected Gillian’s assumption. “Deb was much better. She was born to teach. It came naturally to her, while I always had to work at it. And I didn’t always succeed. She did.”

  Gillian couldn’t say whether she heard pride or awe in TJ’s voice, but she knew that his wife’s teaching skill had had a major impact on him. Perhaps believing he couldn’t match her was part of the reason he’d given up teaching.

  “Were you both at the same school?”

  “Yeah. Deb taught elementary. I was junior high, then high school.” TJ stared at his boots as if fascinated by the pattern on their toes before he said, “We did everything together.”

  “Including rodeos.”

  “No. Deb never wanted to go.” TJ paused for a moment, then turned his gaze toward Gillian. “You’re the only woman I’ve taken to a rodeo.”

  It was a simple statement, hardly a declaration of love, and yet the warmth welling up inside her surprised Gillian with its intensity. “I feel special,” she said softly.

  “You are.”

  Gillian hadn’t been this nervous in years. She took a deep breath as she told herself there was no reason for a case of nerves. To her surprise, she’d slept well last night, and if she’d dreamed, she hadn’t remembered it. When she’d met TJ for breakfast, he’d been his normal friendly self, telling her he was confident she would play flawlessly but assuring her no one would notice if she made a mistake. It had been a classic pep talk, one she appreciated because it came from TJ, the man who pulled no punches.

  Gillian took another deep breath, reminding herself that she’d practiced a few days earlier and was familiar with the organ. It wasn’t even as if people would be staring at her while she played. The organ was in the rear of the church as part of a choir loft. Pastor Bill had told her that after considerable debate over the location, the congregation had chosen by the narrowest of margins—one vote—to place the organ and choir out of sight.

  “The majority believed our focus should be on the altar and the cross,” he told her. “That’s the reason we come to this building.”

  Taking another deep breath, Gillian said a silent prayer that her music would please the One who gave his Son for her.

  “Are you ready?”

  Her eyes flew open at the sound of the minister’s voice. When he’d reviewed the schedule for the morning, he hadn’t mentioned that she would see him before the service.

  “I am now.” The prayer, though brief, had restored her confidence and filled her with peace.

  “Good. I saw the first people pulling into the parking lot, so any time you want to start is fine.”

  Glancing at her watch, Gillian realized this was a full ten minutes before the congregation normally arrived. It was no wonder Pastor Bill had come over to talk to her.

  “All right.” She placed her fingers on the keyboard and began. Within seconds, she was lost in the beauty of the music.

  “You looked like you belonged there,” Sally told her an hour and a half later when the church was once more empty. Gillian had switched off the organ and hurried outside, planning to make a quick exit so she’d be ready when Mike came for her.

  “How do you know what I looked like?” she asked. “I was behind you.”

  Sally merely grinned. “You weren’t invisible. I imagine almost everyone did what I did and snuck a peek at you.” Sally gave Gillian a hug. “The music was wonderful. I’d even go so far as to say it sounded inspired.”

  “It was.” That was the only way Gillian could explain the feeling that had come over her as she’d played and that not once had her damaged fingers betrayed her.

  “That’s what I thought. This is where you’re meant to be.” Sally took a shallow breath, smiling at her husband as he made his way toward her. “Gillian, don’t laugh, but I believe God intends you to spend your life in a church.”

  “As an organist?” Though the idea wasn’t as foreign as it might have been two days earlier, it didn’t feel quite right to Gillian.

  “No. As a minister’s wife.”

  This time Gillian did laugh. “I’m sorry, Sally. You told me not to laugh, but I couldn’t help it. It’s bad enough that the Matchers want to see me married this summer, but did you have to join their ranks? Even if I were interested in your idea—which I am not—there are several problems, starting with the fact that I don’t know any single ministers.”

  Undaunted, Sally shrugged. “Don’t forget that all things are possible for God. He’ll provide.”

  Gillian was still shaking her head as she walked toward Mike’s Ferrari. This was without a doubt the craziest idea Sally had ever had.

  29

  You look great!”

  Though there was no denying the enthusiasm in Mike’s voice, Gillian felt more than a twinge of concern. “I hope it’s not too fancy.”

  She’d worn a full-skirted sundress with its matching jacket to church and had a big floppy hat in her hand, in case the afternoon involved a lot of time outdoors. Both could be considered sensible. Her shoes were not. They consisted of nothing more than a few narrow straps and the highest heels she owned. Perhaps it was silly, but Gillian was always conscious that Mike was at least ten inches taller and didn’t want him towering over her today.

  She looked down at her shoes, suddenly aware that although TJ was almost as tall as Mike, she hadn’t worried about height when she’d dressed for the rodeo or, for that matter, for anything else they did together. She’d chosen whatever clothing best suited the occasion. Perhaps that was because with the exception of the rodeo, she had never felt as if they were going on a date. They were friends spending time together. But the rodeo had changed all that, and when TJ had told her she was special . . .

  “It’s perfect,” Mike said.

  For a second Gillian was confused until she realized that Mike was referring to her outfit, not to anything TJ might have said. Resolving that she would not think ab
out TJ for the rest of the day, Gillian gave Mike her warmest smile. He was her date today, and that was the least he deserved.

  “My family tends to dress up on the Lord’s day,” Mike added with a casual gesture at his own clothing. The perfect fit of his dark suit told Gillian it had been custom-made, and his shoes looked as if they’d come straight from Italy. The only concession he’d made to the warmth of the day was a loosened tie.

  “Do I dare ask how your stint at the organ went?” he asked as he opened the car door for Gillian and waited until she’d arranged her skirt before he closed it. The man was chivalry personified.

  Gillian smiled again, remembering how peaceful she had felt in the choir loft and how she had not hit a single wrong note. The hymns she’d played were nowhere near as challenging as concert music, but she’d still been surprised at how easy it had been. “It went amazingly well. I shouldn’t have worried.”

  “I’m not surprised. Was the church crowded?” Mike put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb, the Ferrari’s low-throated rumble attracting the attention of several teenage boys.

  Gillian nodded. “I was warned it probably would be full, and it was. When I looked down, I couldn’t see a single empty spot.” The thought that at least some of those people might have come only to hear her play still bothered her.

  “That’s good.” It was almost as if Mike had read her thoughts, because he continued, “You provided a reason for the C&E Christians to come to church.”

  “What do you mean by C&E Christians?” she asked as they headed east on Lone Star Trail. It was the perfect day for a drive. The clouds that had obscured the sun and threatened rain at the end of the rodeo were gone, replaced by a brilliant blue sky.

  “Christmas and Easter.”

  “Of course.” Though she hadn’t heard the term, Gillian knew many people who attended church services only twice a year.

  “Think about it, Gillian. Who knows how many of them were touched by today’s service?”