A Rancher’s Song

by Vivian Arend

  “What’s wrong?” Luke laid a hand on Walker’s shoulder and leaned in, watching the conversation.

  Ryan glanced at Walker, concern growing. “You didn’t know about this?”

  “I have no idea what Maxwell would have talked to you about.”

  Curses escaped Ryan. “One second, I need to stop—”

  The music changed, the group vocals fading to be replaced by a guitar strumming a steady beat. A light, happy lilt that danced around the room. They turned together toward the stage area, a sea of backs blocking Ryan’s path to the controls for the screen and the new hell descending on Walker…

  The music video that had been playing was gone, and this time it was his own damn face that appeared, his voice slipping into his ears to mix with the ringing disbelief.

  Damn Maxwell.

  Walker stared at the screen in front of them. It wasn’t an official music video, but it was far more than just one of those still shots that people tossed up that stayed static as music played in the background. The video itself had been put together with generic scenes from a countryside setting. Big old ranch trucks driving down dusty back roads. Equipment working a field. A group of men dancing back from the gate as a bull burst free and exploded into action. A woman stepping through a swinging screen door onto a porch, looking into the audience with a welcoming smile on her face.

  Nothing more than still pictures of Walker rather than live-action shots, but they made it clear he was the singer.

  He was simultaneously proud and horrified.

  The drinkers and dancers from all corners of the room were raising their voices now, cheering as they recognized him. And damn if it didn’t strike him that while Maxwell was the biggest bastard in the universe, he was also one of the smartest.

  There was no putting this bull back in the pen without a hell of a struggle.

  A fist met his arm. “You crafty devil. Why didn’t you say something?” Luke demanded.

  “Because—”

  Because there was nothing to say the last time Walker had talked to Maxwell. Because he was supposed to still be making up his mind.

  But the crowd had spotted him now, and friendly, helpful hands were pulling him to the stage. Pats on the back and admiring smiles landed, and Walker didn’t understand how he could feel sick to his stomach and still get a rush from the chaos.

  Damn brain. Damn body.

  Damn Maxwell.

  Ryan had made it to the stage, moving quickly to turn down the volume. Displeased shouts rang out. Whistles and jeers.

  It wasn’t the man’s fault, so Walker put on a good face and wrapped an arm around Ryan’s shoulders. “Don’t worry about it.”

  A firm head shake. “I took him at his word. I’m sorry you weren’t expecting this.”

  “What did you have planned?”

  “Maxwell sent a cut of music. Said you could do the vocals live.” Ryan straightened up. “I can deal with this. You go back to your family and enjoy your night.”

  “I’ll do it.” Walker offered fast before he lost his courage. “Glad to help out.”

  Gratitude shone in Ryan’s eyes, but wariness too. “Tell your manager I don’t appreciate being played. I’m glad you’re a better man than him.”

  “I’ll give him hell,” Walker promised.

  They shook hands quickly as the crowd moved like an impatient bronco, wanting to burst free and explode into action.

  Ryan grabbed a microphone from the top of a speaker, chatting easily with the crowd. “You folks got a surprise there. Here’s another. Walker Stone is going to sing something for us. It’s your lucky night, and this is a first, as far I know. It’s something he wrote himself. So put your hands together.”

  He passed over the mic, patting Walker on the arm. “Drinks on me after. And forever, as far as I’m concerned. Sorry to throw you under the bus like this.”

  “It’s okay,” Walker muttered back, forcing a smile to his lips as he faced the gathering of familiar faces.

  He could do this. He had done it so many times before. Maybe not with the familiar tune beginning to play behind him, and damn his manager again, because that was him, Walker, on the guitar.

  Luke was clapping loudly, encouraging him as Walker lifted the mic.

  The crowd parted, and he spotted Ivy at the edge of the room, her confusion clear but with a smile bursting out just for him from where she stood with her friends.

  Her silver eyes caught him like an anchor, jerked him to a halt, and held for long enough to give him the strength to start, to sing out the opening words about feeling restless, about being restless.

  Being in front of a crowd had never been a problem—until it was. But this time having Ivy there made the words he was sharing sweeter. He could do this, the fear of panicking receding as he stared at her.

  Ivy tilted her head as if she were listening intently. Not only to his voice, but to what he was feeling inside. Of course she was. His Snow, the one who’d held his heart in her hands forever…

  Someone pushed between them and blocked Ivy from his view.

  Instantly, fingers wrapped around his throat. Death’s boney grip was back.

  Oh God. No.

  Not now.

  Not here.

  The room faded.

  * * *

  He’d been singing, staring straight at her as if they were alone and this was something he needed to tell her that was urgent and heartfelt.

  She’d been jostled to the side, and by the time she’d found room to pull herself free and stop her heart from pounding, something had gone desperately wrong.

  The song continued, but the tone seemed off slightly, as if Walker were distracted and no longer concentrating. She tried in vain to catch a glimpse of him, but pressed at the edge of the room, it was impossible.

  That sense of urgency grew thicker.

  Ivy took a deep breath and headed into the mass of bodies. She ducked under various arms and around enough bodies to put her within a few steps of the stage.

  By now the song had faded until only the music remained. Walker wasn’t singing. He wasn’t moving. He didn’t seem to be breathing. The music carried on in the background, but he was more like a statue than anything.

  People glanced at each other in confusion, but Ivy was already rushing forward.

  Maybe she was wrong, but she didn’t think so. This was so similar to when she’d watched him climb and then freeze. It made no sense, but right now wasn’t about understanding. It was about doing what she had to.

  She couldn’t stop him from falling, but she could be there to lift him to safety.

  Ivy dodged the final few people to reach the edge of the stage. Thankfully there was a step to get up so she didn’t have to throw herself on her belly.

  She stepped quickly to Walker’s side and wrapped her arms around him, tugging hard until she could pull their lips together as if they were trapped in a passionate embrace.

  It had been maybe fifteen seconds without singing, but with something to distract them, the crowd was willing to focus on the kiss she was making look as wild as possible. Which involved a fair bit of dramatic flair as Walker was stiff and unresponsive for far too long.

  When he did move it was to catch hold of her hips as if she’d thrown him a lifeline, clutching tight enough she’d have bruises.

  She softened the kiss, tugging on his shoulders to pull back far enough to speak to him. She had to speak louder than a whisper to be heard over the crowd’s whistling.

  “You okay?”

  He nodded then shook his head.

  “Can you sing?”

  Walker looked beaten. “I…can’t.”

  She cupped a hand on his cheek. “Give me the mic.”

  He handed it to her, fingers stealing around her other hand. Ivy sucked in a deep breath for strength before turning to the crowd.

  Curiosity and amusement reflected back. They hadn’t expected him to sing in the first place, so this rollercoaster was just on
e more bit of the entertainment, which meant Ivy could solve this and get Walker out of there.

  Only now she had to speak.

  She caught Tansy’s worried expression before her sister forced a smile and flashed her a thumbs-up. Rose too was offering her support, hip-checking the nearest guy out of the way to get a better view as she put her hands together and clapped.

  I can do this.

  Ivy lifted the mic. “Hey. Sorry about that.”

  “If you’re done kissing him, can I have a turn?” Kelli James lifted a brow and stuck out a hip.

  Laughter rang. Walker took a deep breath and shook his head in amusement.

  Ivy stepped in front of him as if claiming territory. “Hands off, chickie.”

  Walker’s hands settled on her hips, pulling her against him.

  Kelli made a show of folding her arms and sticking out her tongue.

  Ivy smiled, thankful for the extra distraction. “I think we all had a surprise, and this one is my fault. That’s…”

  Her mind had been racing to figure out a possible solution, and it was weak, but would have to do.

  “…that’s my song. I didn’t think Walker was going to sing it in public yet. I wasn’t ready to share. Sorry.”

  Her cheeks must have gone crimson from the rising heat, not just from staring into the faces before her without cringing at her bald-faced lie, but speaking in front of all those faces, period.

  She’d learned hard lessons over the years. Lots of coping strategies, but that didn’t mean she liked public speaking.

  Or in this case, public lying.

  Walker leaned in and kissed her cheek, and the music in the background turned to another familiar song. Ryan waved a hand in the air as he stepped forward to take the mic.

  “See what I get for not lining up my entertainment ahead of time?” He shook a hand at the complaining people to the left of him. “Another time. But since we can’t enjoy Walker, put on your dancing boots. Half-price pitchers for the next half hour, and we’ll get some line dancing started early. Where’s Carly? Time to do your thing, girl.”

  A girl in the crowd bounced forward excitedly, her sheer enthusiasm bringing smiles to faces as much as the announced liquor sale.

  Ivy took control and pulled Walker with her to the side of the room, ignoring the teasing questions. Walker took the ribbing as well, silently waving off his brother. Luke looked ready to pounce on him both for protection and answers.

  Fingers crossed she wasn’t about to set off the fire alarm, Ivy pushed through the emergency exit and dragged Walker into the fresh evening air.

  He pushed the door shut with her, collapsing with his back against the hard surface. He dragged a hand through his hair then bent over as if he might fall.

  Whatever was going on, the rest of this evening needed to happen elsewhere. “Come on,” she ordered, offering her hand.

  He tilted his head back and stared at her palm before slapping his fingers against hers.

  She led him to her car, opening the passenger door before heading to the driver side.

  Walker didn’t argue, just crawled in, adjusted the seat to make room for his legs, and then settled in. Closing the door, doing up his seatbelt—every step orderly and neat. Controlled.

  Ivy held her questions. This wasn’t something she wanted to get into while she was behind the wheel.

  He stared straight ahead in silence as well. At least until his phone rang not fifteen seconds after she left the parking lot.

  Walker glanced at the screen before answering it on speaker phone for some reason.

  “What?”

  Luke’s concern rang like lightning. Sharp and clear. “Where are you?”

  Ivy noted with approval that was his first question instead of What happened?

  Walker spoke softly. “With Ivy.”

  “Good.” Luke was still at the bar, the music loud in the background. “You need me, bro?”

  Extra points for that, Ivy noted. Walker’s brother was a rock. One who might get leaned on heavily depending on what happened over the next thirty minutes.

  Walker glanced at her. “I’m good. I’ll talk to you later. Sorry—”

  “Nothing to apologize for. But call if you need anything.”

  Luke hung up. Walker put his phone away and went back to staring out the window.

  Thank goodness the town was small enough they were pulling into her driveway within minutes. Ivy stopped and got out without speaking, leaving it up to Walker to follow her or not.

  She paused as a faint light shining at the edge of the graveyard caught her eye.

  Along the fence, a solar powered light had been placed by someone, tied with a shiny red ribbon. The bright spot glowing with such determination seemed out of place, and yet it warmed something inside her.

  There was always a light of hope if you knew where to look.

  A hand on her shoulder turned her toward the man she’d cared about for a long time. Cared, worried about…

  Loved.

  Walker pulled her against him and held on tightly, and in that moment Ivy knew she’d do anything for this man. Anything to help him understand he was valuable and had so much to give.

  Help him know he was loved.

  Help him see the light.

  14

  She untangled herself from his embrace and brought him into the house.

  Walker followed and sat when ordered to, silence falling as Ivy worked at the counter. Everything he’d walled up was going to come out now. There would be no more pretending nothing was wrong.

  Inside he had to admit he was kind of glad he’d been pushed to the limit and needed to confess.

  She pushed a cup of tea into his hands. “Drink,” she ordered.

  “The cure-all tea comes to the rescue?”

  She settled opposite him. “It’s not a bad solution. Gives you something to hold on to, and something to sip while you’re trying to figure out what to say. My mom taught me that.”

  “Your mom is a smart lady. When she’s not being annoying,” Walker teased gently.

  She wasn’t letting him get away with not talking about it. Ivy put her cup down and laid a hand on his arm. “What happened?”

  He didn’t take the easy way out and look at the steaming liquid. He kept his gaze fixed on her face, the steely strength in her eyes a contrast with the softness of her fingers caressing his.

  “I…” He thought back. Panic setting in, and then—

  “I don’t know,” he confessed. “I lose bits of time. These moments come over me, and suddenly there’s nothing there. Then I’m somewhere I don’t expect, doing something I don’t remember.”

  Ivy frowned. “What do you remember tonight?”

  Walker tried. “Going up on the stage. Thinking I needed to cut Ryan some slack because it wasn’t his fault. Thinking I was going to kill my manager the first chance I get. I know I heard the music start.”

  “And the last thing?”

  He took his time, forcing himself back to that moment of blackness. It was like staring into a fog bank, not sure if he was imagining the barn and fence posts he could barely see.

  The only thing he knew for certain was the very end. “You were holding me, looking at me as if you were worried, but not about to let anyone else know. Like the time we played hooky and got caught.”

  Even with concern written on her face, the corners of her lips moved upward in the smile. “We were not playing hooky. We were doing research, and we lost track of the time.”

  “We had fishing poles in our hands, and the only research we could do down by the lake was how many perch we could catch during math class.”

  “You don’t remember singing?”

  Walker felt like an idiot. “I assume I must have gotten something out because the song was nearly halfway done when you woke me up.” He turned his hand palm up and caught her fingers in his. “Thank you.”

  “Of course, but we need to—”

  He tugged to
get her attention. “Don’t blow off my gratitude. That’s twice you’ve saved my ass. I know how much it cost you. The first time at the pool you could’ve gotten really sick. This time you were so damn bold when I was—I don’t even know what I was doing. Drooling? Making rude noises?”

  He shook his head.

  Ivy let out a disgruntled sound then stood, crowding forward until he pushed his chair back far enough she could sit on his legs. She caught hold of his chin in her slim fingers. “I’m not blowing it off. I did ‘save your ass’ as you so eloquently put it. Now I want to know the whole story. That’s your payment for making me throw myself at you and kiss you, again, in front of a crowd.”

  “Because kissing me is such a chore?”

  She leaned in, her grip on his face strengthening as she added a second hand. Cupping his cheeks and tilting his head so she could kiss him. Tender and soft, a caress of her lips over his. His hands were wrapped around her hips, so they were connected and together, and yet it was almost sweet. Something far more than sexual.

  He didn’t fight when she pushed back, staring at him, her quicksilver eyes icy cold and burning hot at the same time. “Tell me, Walker. You’ve had this happen to you before, yes?”

  He dipped his head, the scruff of his chin brushing her soft palms.

  “Don’t make me pull it out of you one word at a time. Consider this like back in high school when I refused to let you copy my English homework.”

  Good analogy. “You’re going to make me do the work myself?” He adjusted his grip on her hips because holding her helped center him. “The first time recently was last fall. I ended up on my ass, but I don’t remember starting the ride.”

  Her entire body tightened. “You’ve had this happen while you were riding a bull? Oh my God, Walker. That’s entirely different than getting stage fright.”

  “It’s only happened a couple of times,” he hurried to reassure her. “I can feel it coming on. I’ve bailed on some rides and in some situations when I can tell it’s going to happen.”

  The furrow between her brows was deep enough to plant potatoes. “Your stomach gets tight, and your heart rate picks up. Your palms get sweaty?”

  “My ears start to ring, and I swear it feels as if”—talk about admitting to having a troubled mind—“something is choking me. Right around here, until I can’t breathe.”