Rodeo Family

by Shannon Taylor Vannatter

  “Garrett and Jenna saw her after that last beating, too.”

  “But they didn’t see Russ hit her?”

  “No.” Brant deflated. “But I can testify that he threatened her at Jenna’s store. And all of the cowboys who came to the rescue that day are willing to testify. I saw her after the beating and we all saw Russ at the store.” Brant’s tone heated. “He had Tori cornered with that piece of glass in his hand.”

  “I really don’t think we’ll be able to make anything stick except the incident at the store. We have witnesses to the actual event in that case.”

  “So, you’re saying I shouldn’t bother?” Tori’s voice came out small, frightened. She straightened her shoulders.

  “No. You should definitely press charges. Even if they don’t stick, it’ll be on his record. Then if he hits someone else someday, your charges will show a pattern. Maybe make charges stick next time.”

  “You think there’ll be a next time?” She clasped a hand to her mouth.

  “That day in the store, I thought Russ looked familiar. I finally remembered, I had a run-in with him a few years back on a stakeout.”

  “And?” Hope echoed in Brant’s tone.

  “Let’s just say Russ is a textbook case. Men like this don’t usually stop abusing. They move on to their next victim.”

  “I think you should tell him the rest, Tori.”

  Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. She shot Brant the evil eye.

  Mitch caught her gaze. “Is there something else?”

  “I’m—” Tori squeezed her eyes closed. “I’m pregnant.”

  “With Russ’s child?” Mitch’s eyebrows rose, but his expression showed no judgment.

  “Yes.”

  “Were you pregnant during any of the beatings?”

  “The last one.” She shook her head. “The first three beatings happened in the first two weeks we were together. Then there was a span of time he didn’t hit me—I’d learned to be very acquiescent and keep him calm. Until I tried to break up with him. I learned a month later that I was a month pregnant.”

  “That could change your entire case.” Mitch leaned toward her. “Even without proof of any of the beatings, with Jenna testifying about the incident at the store and the men backing her up with their account of seeing Russ corner you. We might have something.”

  “I don’t want Russ to know about the baby.” If she could keep Russ in the dark, maybe she could keep her baby and they could have a normal life. But it could never work. The only way to keep him in the dark would be to give the baby up. She wasn’t sure if she had enough strength to do it.

  “Completely understandable. Men like Russ have no right getting near a child. But—” Mitch sat back in his chair. “I’m afraid without revealing your pregnancy, we’re back to square one.”

  Tori huffed out a sigh. “I’d like to press charges without revealing my pregnancy. Even if Russ doesn’t get much jail time, at least it’ll be on his record.”

  “All right.” Mitch opened his laptop again.

  Something touched the back of her hand. Tori looked down. Beside her, Brant offered his hand. She clasped onto the lifeline he offered, needing all the strength she could get.

  * * *

  The pastor ended the altar call after the half dozen who’d gone forward—including Tori—returned to their seats. Thank goodness, this church allowed the pianist altar time, too. All she’d had to do was signal the sound booth. He’d started a CD right where she’d left off and she’d gotten some much needed strength through prayer.

  “Now Tori has something she’d like to share with us.” Pastor Thomas motioned for her to come stand beside him in front of the pulpit.

  As she took her place, she noticed movement from behind her. Brant stood on her opposite side and took her hand in his. Jenna and Garrett stood amongst the congregation and came forward to stand behind her.

  Tori’s eyes misted. She’d told them today was confession day for her, but she hadn’t expected this show of support. She blinked several times and cleared her throat.

  “I haven’t been a Christian for long and I’ve made lots of mistakes in the past.” Her voice quivered. “And as we all know, mistakes have consequences. So as a result of mistakes I made before I discovered Christ, I’m pregnant.”

  Chapter 7

  The congregation grew so quiet and still, she could have heard a feather drop. Brant squeezed her hand.

  “Tori came to me with this news a few months ago.” Pastor Thomas took over for her. “She thought she shouldn’t play the piano because of her pregnancy. But I convinced her otherwise. She wanted to come forward then, but I advised her not to.”

  Tori summoned up all the strength she had. “I found out about the baby right after I joined this church. But the baby’s father is very abusive and I don’t want him to know about my pregnancy. So Pastor Thomas advised I keep quiet. The father ended up in jail not long after I broke up with him and he has an upcoming trial. We were hoping the trial would be over by now.” Would he always haunt her?

  Every eye was on her, but try as she might, she couldn’t read the congregation. “But I’m right at three months now and I’m starting to show. Plus the vote is coming up and I wanted everyone to know the truth. In fact, I’ve felt like a terrible liar by not telling you.”

  Brant squeezed her hand again and she could have hugged him at that moment. A hand settled on each of her shoulders. Jenna and Garrett lending their support. Tears filled her eyes.

  “We need to support Tori.” Pastor Thomas paused a moment, letting the words sink in. “She could have easily aborted this unplanned pregnancy. This child certainly complicates her life by tying her to a man she does not want to be tied to. But she’s doing the right thing by her child.”

  The child. Tori had to stop thinking of the baby as hers. It was the only way she could truly do the right thing and give the baby up.

  A smattering of applause started up in the back corner of the congregation. Then it spread until everyone was clapping. Approving her decision to keep the baby. The tears welling in her eyes spilled as people began standing until the entire congregation stood. Her friends surrounding her joined in the applause.

  Her first standing ovation. Probably her only one. She dabbed at her eyes.

  “Wonderful.” Pastor Thomas joined the applause, but stopped long enough to press a tissue into her hand, then waited until the clapping died down. “I ask that everyone continue to support Tori and keep her secret. She doesn’t need a violent man in her life. Or in her baby’s life.”

  The pastor dismissed with a prayer. Jenna hugged her, then Garrett, and Brant. His was a nice long hug and she could have stayed there forever. But other people came forward to offer their support and he had to turn her lose. Soon she was lost in a sea of hugs from people whose names she hadn’t even learned yet.

  Tori sagged into each embrace. The stress of keeping her secret and relief it was out in the open now physically weakened her.

  Thank you, God, for bringing me to this church.

  * * *

  Brant opened the door of Garrett’s sound studio. Tori spun around.

  “Relax. It’s me.” Brant held his hands up in surrender. “Please don’t get your poker.”

  That almost got a smile out of her. “Hey.”

  Almost. How could he forget? She’d probably be jumpy for years after her debacle with Russ. His blood boiled. What he’d like to do to that jerk. He’d have to remember not to sneak up on her in the future. “Anything in particular you’d like to play first? A favorite? Something you’re comfortable with?”

  A bitter laugh escaped her. “I’m comfortable with honky-tonk, but that doesn’t fit at church.”

  “Tell me about your dad’s band.”

 
“It’s a long story.” She trailed her fingers lightly across the glossy ivory keys.

  “It’s kind of stuffy in here—actually cooler outside. What do you say we sit outside a bit while the air conditioner kicks in.”

  “I can’t play piano outside.”

  “No, but I’m singing a solo with my guitar. I can practice that and you can give me feedback.”

  “I was just thinking how nice it would be to while away an afternoon in that tree swing around the side of the house.” A dreamy expression settled on her face. “I never had a swing when I was a kid.”

  “Never? The afternoon’s waiting.” Brant opened the door. “June will be here before you know it and it’ll be too hot to while away anything outside.”

  “I wish spring lasted longer.” Tori hurried past him leaving a trail of her flowery scent.

  Brant followed her out, then walked to his truck to gather himself. And his guitar. By the time he rounded the house, Tori was swinging high. Her hair trailed behind her and a wide smile curved her beautiful lips.

  He settled at the base of the huge live oak tree and strummed his guitar, wanting to sing her some sappy love song. Instead, he concentrated until he remembered the words—“How Great Thou Art.” Yes, concentrate on God. Not Tori. He lost himself in the song—losing all sense of time and place.

  As the song wrapped up, he repeated the final chorus.

  Applause brought him back with a thud. Tori sat in the still swing, clapping.

  He cleared his throat. “You could accompany on the piano if you want.”

  “No. It’s perfect. Just like that.” She stood and walked toward him. “I always wanted to play guitar. Could you teach me?”

  “Sure.” He stood, pulled the guitar strap loose and handed it to her. “You already know music, so you’re ahead of the game.”

  “Show me the chords.”

  Brant stood to her left and positioned her fingers on the strings. Then moved to her right to position her other hand. There was just no way to do this other than stand behind her with his arms sort of around her.

  With each of his hands on hers, his chest against her back, he helped her strum. But something was off-kilter other than his heartbeat. What emanated from the guitar sounded nothing like the simple bar chord he’d planned.

  She laughed back over her shoulder at him.

  And his gaze settled on her lips, then bounced back up to meet her eyes. “Um, let’s try again. It’s really easy.”

  “No.” She pushed the guitar away and slipped out of his arms. “We’re here to practice with the piano. Better get to it.”

  * * *

  What was that?

  “Tell me about you.” Tori managed to keep her voice steady despite her rocketing heart, as she settled back at the massive grand piano. “You met Garrett in Nashville, but now you’re here in a small church in Aubrey.”

  “Chasing a dream. A new dream.” He closed his eyes. “I only gave myself a year in Nashville. When I didn’t get my big break in that year, I gave up that dream and found a new one. I want to be the music minister at a megachurch someday.” He pressed his fingers to his lips. “Shhhh. Don’t tell the church that.”

  And her gaze stayed on his lips for a beat. They’d been so close to hers. So inviting. Why did the only nice, unattached man she’d ever met have to be a musician? And why did she have to meet him when she was pregnant?

  Mental shake back to the conversation. What were they talking about? Oh yeah, his dream. “And you think our church will do that for you?”

  “No. But being the headliner at the Fort Worth Stockyards Championship Rodeo might.”

  “Oh, I see.”

  “I came to our church because they happened to need a song director.” He propped his booted foot on the rung of her bench. “Your turn—tell me something about Tori Eaton. Starting with telling me about your dad’s band.”

  A huge sigh escaped her. Might as well get it out in the open. “Ever heard of Slim Easton?”

  Recognition dawned in Brant’s eyes. “Sure, the country star.”

  “His manager thought Easton had more star power than Eaton. He’s my dad.” Her shoulders slumped. “He cheated on my mom and was never home. When he did come home, he spent his time beating my mom up.” Her words came out matter-of-factly—as if her dad’s cheating and beating were a normal part of everyday life.

  “I’m so sorry.” There was nothing matter-of-fact about the compassion in Brant’s tone.

  “Mom tried to make the best of it.” She shrugged. “After he beat her, I’d tend her wounds. And as soon as he left—” and she could walk straight “—she’d take me to McDonald’s for comfort food—Filet-O-Fish, fries and a chocolate milk shake. She’d tell me how stressed my dad was and that one day his music wouldn’t stress him out so much and he’d stop hitting her.”

  Brant’s hand settled on her arm. “You don’t have to tell me any more. I had no idea.”

  The warmth and gentleness of his touch gave her strength.

  “No, it feels kind of good to talk about it. I’ve never told anyone. Not even Aunt Loretta or Jenna.” She swiped at her eyes. “When I was fifteen. He beat her up really bad—worse than ever before. I tried to take care of her, but she needed a doctor and I wanted to stay home from school with her. She insisted I go and I made her promise we’d see a doctor after school. When I came home that day, I found her in the tub. She’d slashed her wrists.”

  “Oh, Tori.” Brant settled on the bench beside her and his arms came around her. The solidness of his chest cushioned her cheek. The first man capable of a tender embrace to cross her radar screen. She could get used to it.

  “My dad took me on the road with him.” She mumbled against his shoulder.

  “I’m so sorry you had to grow up that way. It explains a lot.”

  “Like how I ended up with Russ.” She shrugged. “Habit, I guess.”

  “Did your dad ever hurt you?”

  “Not physically.” She really should scoot away from the song leader, but her scooter wouldn’t obey. “I fantasized that things would be different on the road—we’d develop a normal father/daughter relationship, he’d be kind and we’d spend time together.”

  The only time she’d gotten any attention from her father during that six months was when he’d caught her consoling herself in his drummer, Kenny’s bed. She winced as the things he’d called her echoed from the past.

  Her laugh echoed irony. “But I soon learned he only took me with him because his keyboardist quit after he found out Dad had an affair with his wife. And Dad didn’t have time for me. He only cared about his booze and his groupies.”

  Brant’s fingers stroked soothing circles on her back.

  “I’m sorry, Tori. That sounds lame, but I’m really sorry.”

  “I survived.” She tried to sound as if none of it mattered. “After six months, he sent me home to live with Aunt Loretta. I graduated, went to design school and met Jenna.”

  “And landed your dream job.”

  “Not exactly. Don’t get me wrong, I like working with Jenna and she’s been better than wonderful to me. But I went to design school to study clothing design.”

  Even with the good influence of Aunt Loretta and Jenna, she’d followed a destructive path. She’d set out to punish every musician she met—to the point of telling Rick’s wife about their affair and trashing his marriage last year. But during all those years, all those relationships, she’d only ended up hurting herself.

  And here she was pregnant by an abusive musician, and accepting comfort—from a musician. She pulled away from Brant and moved away from him on the bench.

  “I met Russ in a dive—he was playing guitar for some two-bit country band. But you know, maybe meeting him was a good thing.” Except for his child gr
owing in her belly. The baby wasn’t the problem, but the father was.

  “How could getting anywhere near Russ be a good thing?”

  “Russ shook me out of my self-destructive behavior. And he helped me make a decision—no more musicians.” She’d just put a nail in the coffin of any off chance they could possibly have anything more than friendship. But it was for the best. Brant deserved better and she certainly couldn’t saddle him with Russ’s baby if she figured out a way to keep the baby.

  Brant cleared his throat and stood. “You know, not all musicians are bad news.”

  “No. But I’m done. With men in general—but especially with musicians. And besides I’ve got a baby to concentrate on.” She trailed her fingers across the ivories again, this time with enough pressure to elicit soft tones. “If we’re going to practice, we better get to it.”

  “Uh, yeah.” Brant flipped through the songbook. “How about ‘Amazing Grace’?”

  Was it her imagination? Or did he seem disappointed that she’d sworn off musicians?

  * * *

  Mid-June tipped the nineties and despite the air-conditioning, the courtroom seemed stuffy from compressed body heat.

  Yesterday Brant had sat with Tori, Jenna and Garrett during jury selection. Brant could have saved the state a lot of time and a lot of money.

  Twelve people called at a time. Half a dozen questions posed by the lawyers before anyone asked if any of the twelve had a good reason they couldn’t serve. Everything from running a one-man business to caretaker for an elderly family member excused half the twelve. Six more were called and the process started over.

  Why not ask the entire jury pool if they had good reason they were unable to serve? Get those out of the way and then begin with the real questions on who was left instead of twelve at a time. Sheesh, at the rate jury selection had gone, he’d been amazed they’d had a jury by the end of the day.

  Today Russ’s trial had begun. Brant’s glare settled on Russ. Russ’s jaw clenched, but his gaze darted away.

  Coward.

  And now Brant had to sit here in court and look at Russ for the second day in a row. The man who’d beaten Tori up. The man whose baby grew inside her. The man who had no right to be a father or even live for that matter. Unfortunately Brant couldn’t jump him.