The Cowboy's Courtship

by Brenda Minton

  Through the open doors of the arena, he could see the retreating back of Alyson, nearly to the picnic table where her grandmother was sitting with a group of women who had worked in the kitchen that morning. Let God. He thought she probably didn’t know how.

  If he could remember, he would help her in that journey. And then he’d do what he did best, walk out of the room before it got too tough, before letting go wasn’t easy.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He walked out of the arena, not sure where he was heading, or why. As he crossed the large expanse of lawn that led to the dining hall and dorms, he saw Etta and Alyson getting in Etta’s car, leaving.

  “If you don’t want to work in the kitchen, Jenna said they could use you in the stable. She thought you might like to work down there, with the horses,” Etta said as she parked the car under her carport at the side of the house.

  Alyson nodded but didn’t know what to say. She could have said that she knew that Jason had decided to work at the camp, in the stable. She could even tell her grandmother that she didn’t need the help of matchmakers.

  Instead, she followed Etta up the sidewalk that was cracked in places, with grass and dandelions growing up in the broken areas. The kitten, banished from the house after it was caught sharpening its claws on an antique stool, ran from the shed, mewing for food.

  More to comfort herself than the cat, Alyson scooped up the kitten and held it close. It purred loudly, working tiny claws in her shoulder as it snuggled close.

  The back door opened and Andie walked out, her short hair catching in the light breeze. “There’s cat puke in my room.”

  “Hi to you, too.” Etta shot a look back at Alyson and the kitten. “You get to clean that up.”

  “I will.”

  Andie smiled a little. “I made chocolate chip cookies.”

  Etta shook her head. “I’m going to sit in my room with a book and the ceiling fan on. You two enjoy the cookies.”

  Alyson followed her sister into the house. The cookies were on a tray and there was a pitcher of iced tea. “I thought the two of you would be ready for a break.”

  Andie was considerate. It was crazy to learn this stuff about her sister now, when Alyson should have always known. They should have had a lifetime of knowing these things about one another.

  They walked down the hall to the front door and onto the wide front porch with its lavender-painted wicker furniture. The sweet scent of roses and other flowers drifted on the breeze. But there wasn’t much of a breeze. Andie sat down on the wicker chaise lounge and drew her knees up. Her feet were bare and she had a flower tattoo on her ankle.

  Alyson looked around, at the wicker chairs and the porch swing. She picked the porch swing, facing her sister. She reached for a cookie and set her glass of tea on the table.

  Jason drove by, his truck pulling an empty horse trailer that rattled on the paved road. “Wonder where he’s going,” Andie mused as she lifted the glass to take a sip. And then she glanced at Alyson. “Why does the sight of Jason Bradshaw make you turn that lovely shade of pink?”

  “It doesn’t.” Alyson didn’t want to talk about Jason. She wanted to talk about two sisters who had lost so much of their lives together.

  “You can stop looking at me with the big, sad eyes.” Andie held her tea glass and stared out at the road.

  “I’m not looking at you.” Alyson sighed. “Okay, I am. You know, I don’t remember you. I didn’t have pictures. No one mentioned you to me.”

  “So you’re saying that I had it better because I was aware that my sister was taken by our mother and I was left here.”

  “Was here such a bad place?”

  “No, here was a great place. The idea that I wasn’t good enough for our mother, that I wasn’t smart enough or talented enough, that can kind of wound a kid and make her feel a little inferior.”

  “I know, and I’m sorry. But you have to understand, that wasn’t my fault.”

  “No, Alyson, being a brilliant child prodigy wasn’t your fault.”

  Alyson stood up, her insides trembling. She’d never been so mad in her life. She stood there staring at her sister, and Andie staring back.

  “Child prodigy, Andie. I was a child with a gift. And now I’m just another piano player. I have no skills. I have no life. I played the piano. I graduated early. I’ve never been to a prom or a homecoming. Now I have to figure out where I belong.”

  “Figure it out. You’re an adult. No one is going to tell you who you need to be.”

  But for twenty-eight years people had told her who to be, so finding herself now didn’t seem like such an easy thing to do.

  “You make it sound easy. But you’ve always known who you were.”

  “Yeah, I guess I did.” Andie picked up another chocolate chip cookie. “But I think you know who you are. You must be a Forester, because you got mad and left.”

  Alyson smiled at that and she sat back down. “Yes, but I planned it for over a week.”

  “Yeah, I would have just jumped in the truck and left.”

  “I’m glad you’re my sister.” Alyson didn’t say it too softly, because Andie obviously didn’t do soft.

  “Yeah, about that. I’m okay with having you back, and I’ve missed having a sister. But what set you off? What suddenly sent you running?”

  “We have a half sister named Laura, and a month ago she eloped with the man I thought I was going to marry.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Yeah, ouch. Too bad I don’t miss him.”

  They both laughed, and it felt good to have that moment between the two of them, a moment that signified something, maybe healing.

  “There are photo albums.” Alyson loved those photo albums. She’d looked at them several times already, but not from Andie’s perspective. “Would you look at them with me?”

  “And take a trip down memory lane?” Pain hid within the sarcasm in Andie’s tone.

  “At least tell me something about our dad.” Alyson swallowed. “Isn’t there something you want to know about my life, about our mother, or your half sisters?”

  “Soon, but not yet. It isn’t easy, knowing the reason she left me. I’ve always known and I’ve always had that resentment.”

  Alyson smiled. “She didn’t get an easy out, Andie. She didn’t trade you for a perfect child, or perfect children. I’m dyslexic, too. It drove her crazy, trying to force me to learn the way my sisters learned. And they drove her crazy with bids for attention that you won’t believe.”

  Andie smiled. “Okay, let’s share.”

  “What was he like?” Alyson had to start there, with her father.

  “Always lonely.” Andie offered but she looked away and Alyson saw the moisture gather in her eyes. “He always missed her and you.”

  “But he loved you?” Alyson wanted it to be a fairy tale. She wanted to believe what she’d told herself on the drive here, that there was this perfect parent who had missed her. He would have been her hero.

  “He loved me. He loved us both.” Andie said it the way a person dismissed trivial facts. “But he started drinking when I was five. And if the car accident hadn’t killed him, I think drinking would have.”

  Alyson sighed, because she had wanted to believe that things here were different. There were no fairy tales. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I wasn’t unhappy. He loved me. Granny loved me. I grew up riding horses and pulling crazy stunts.” Andie turned to sit on the side of the chair. “What did you do?”

  “I…” Alyson thought back, to what she had done, something that sounded more exciting than hours at the piano, panic attacks before walking out onstage, or her mother telling her she was a disappointment. “I played in London for the queen.”

  Andie laughed. “I said, what did you do for fun?”

  They both laughed. “I don’t know if fun was allowed. While I played and performed, Dad—” She shook her head. “Gary would take Laura and Cindy places. I did see a lot of museums.”r />
  “If you’re trying to make it sound bad so I won’t be jealous, it’s working.”

  “You have nothing to be jealous of.” Alyson looked up as a truck approached. Jason Bradshaw driving by with a horse in the back of his trailer. “What’s Jason like?”

  “If you’re a pianist with big, blue eyes, he’s a big, macho prince charming. If not, he’s the guy down the road that you’ve always liked, because he’s always been funny, always been easy to get along with. His mom died years ago. His dad is difficult. His sister ran away. Kind of a typical family with normal problems.”

  “As opposed to a mom who took one kid and left the other?”

  “He’s broken a lot of hearts, Alyson. And then he got religious and broke a few more. Don’t let him break yours. He’s looking for a good Christian wife these days. I don’t think either of us fit that description.”

  Alyson shrugged it off. “I don’t plan on getting my heart broken, and I don’t plan on falling in love.”

  She didn’t know what to say about being a Christian. She had agreed to attend church with Etta tomorrow. When she thought about it, her stomach did a small flip. It did another flip when she thought about seeing Jason there.

  Chapter Seven

  Jason found a parking space near the doors of the church and got out, alone, as usual. Beth had quit going when she was a teenager and realized it made their father angry. Jason’s dad had never been one to attend church, not even before. And in their world, before always meant before Elena Bradshaw died. They didn’t talk about her death. They didn’t really talk about her, or life without her.

  Instead, Buck Bradshaw had created a new life for his family after his wife’s death. She was gone, and he acted as if she had never been there. But she had, and the big hole in all their lives was evidence of the fact.

  Jason was still thinking about the saddle that had gone in the Dumpster. It should have been thrown away years ago. Letting it go had to mean something.

  He took the step from the parking lot to the sidewalk and bit back some inappropriate words. Roping yesterday and riding a green broke horse hadn’t been a good idea. He’d given it a try and jammed his knee worse than before. The fact that his jeans barely fit over his swollen leg was a pretty good indication that he wasn’t going to be able to put off surgery much longer.

  But it would have to wait because he wasn’t going to miss out helping with camp. Not now that he’d decided he should do this. He’d keep weight off it a couple of days and then deal with it.

  “What’s wrong with you?” A familiar voice. He turned and smiled at Etta. And Alyson. That felt good, remembering her name, and remembering that her being there probably meant something.

  “What do you mean, what’s wrong with me?”

  “Aren’t there crutches in your truck for a reason?” Etta walked over to the door of his truck and gave it a yank. She pulled out the wooden crutches and handed them to him. “Stop being so stubborn and take care of yourself.”

  “I’m taking care of myself.” He winked at Alyson. “I knew the two of you would be along to give me a hand.”

  “And if we hadn’t, you would have fallen on your stubborn face.” Etta nodded toward the church. “Head that way or we’re going to be late.”

  “And that’ll be my fault, too?” He mumbled, for Alyson’s benefit. She laughed a little and he shot her a sideways glance, winking again, because he liked it when she turned that pretty shade of pink.

  She was about the frilliest thing he’d ever seen, even in her new “country clothes.” Her denim skirt swished around her ankles and her blouse was ruffled. She smelled so good, he wanted to slide up close to her and see…

  Or maybe just yank his thoughts back into check and remember that he was at church and she was searching for herself, not a relationship.

  The stairs going up to the church were narrow and had been there since before Dawson was a town. The ramp, a new addition, required by the state, ran alongside the building. Alyson walked behind him, up that long ramp. He wondered if she always did what she thought was the right thing. This time the right thing was not letting him fall on his face.

  “I really can make it on my own.” He glanced back over his shoulder. Her gaze was down, studying the wood of the ramp.

  “I know you can, but I thought—” she smiled up at him “—that I’d catch you if you fell.”

  He swallowed any fool reply that tried to slip out. He could tell her a hundred ways a man could fall, and it wasn’t about hitting the ground. It was all about lace ruffles and perfume that wrapped around a guy’s senses and drove him to sing the Lord’s Prayer in his mind to keep his thoughts on holy things as he walked into church.

  “You can catch me if I fall.” He stood back, motioning with his hand for her to walk through the doors of the church ahead of him, and she didn’t. Instead, she looked a little green, and he remembered panic attacks.

  “Give me a minute.” She glanced around, and people were watching.

  He stepped closer, close enough that it became just the two of them, and he knew that people would talk. But in a town like Dawson, that’s just what people did. He didn’t mind giving them something to talk about.

  “Deep breath, darlin’.”

  “Okay.” She closed her eyes, inhaling. He wanted to put his arms around her, but then she’d be the only thing holding him up and they’d both fall.

  He hummed the Lord’s Prayer and took a careful step back, trying not to tangle his legs, the crutches and the people walking past them.

  “Why do you keep humming?” She looked up, distracted, and he hadn’t realized he’d hummed out loud.

  “I’ll explain it someday.” The church bell rang. “Ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be.”

  Etta appeared in the vestibule. “I saved us a seat, but thought the two of you might have changed your minds about coming inside.”

  “We’re here.” Jason wondered if Etta knew that her granddaughter had panic attacks. “No Andie, I see.”

  Etta shook her head. “Of course not. She guilted Alyson into coming, but she backtracked as soon as we got close to being ready. She said she’s going to pick up another horse today.”

  “Sounds like Andie.” He sat down on the end of the pew and stretched his leg out into the aisle.

  “What happened?” Alyson asked as she reached for a hymnal.

  “Bull bucked me off.”

  “That was a month ago. And my name is Alyson.”

  He laughed a little, because of her quirky smile and the way her brows arched when she was being funny, and then the hint of shyness, as if she had found out something new about herself.

  “I know. I promise, I’m not going to forget you, not again. And I really do remember what happened. I did some calf roping with a friend and when I jumped off a horse I was trying out, I twisted my knee. I already have some torn ligaments, so…”

  “You’ll need surgery.”

  “Probably so.” He put a finger to his lips and she nodded, but she kept looking at him, not at the front of the church.

  Alyson glanced away from the cowboy sitting next to her. She swallowed emotions that surfaced, unfamiliar and consuming. She reminded herself of how it felt to be the person Dan left because she didn’t know how to enjoy life. That note had changed her life more than his leaving her had. That note had hurt, because it had been the truth. And it hadn’t been her fault that she’d become this person who lived by a schedule.

  The pianist missed a note. Alyson looked up, catching the problem, shuddering a little, and not meaning to. The woman was doing a great job. There was something about the song, the way it lifted to the rafters of that little church. It wasn’t polished, it wasn’t perfect, but it was moving.

  She listened as they moved from a song about the earth not being home, to a song she knew well. As the worship leader sang the words, “It is well, with my soul,” Alyson wondered, as she had never really wondered before, what that me
ant. Before it had been a beautiful song, a song the piano brought to life. And now, listening, she realized it was about life and having something stronger than oneself to rely on.

  And she didn’t know if she could ever live through disasters and sing that all was well with her soul. How did a person do that? How did a person find peace within their soul?

  How could she ever find it when fear bounced around inside her, stealing any peace she managed to find, and bitterness welled up within her when she thought of the life she’d missed because of her mother’s selfishness?

  The message created more questions in her mind, more questions than she had answers for.

  “Where are we going for lunch?” Etta asked as they walked out of church an hour later.

  Alyson was still lost in the words of a song, still trying to make sense of peace, and her grandmother was moving on, as if this was all normal, as if everyone should understand and get this faith, this God that seemed to be such a part of these people’s lives.

  They assumed that everyone got it, that it was easy, but it wasn’t. Maybe that was her, overthinking again.

  A hand touched hers, fingers lightly brushing. She looked up, and his eyes held understanding. He winked.

  “You with us?” He leaned into the crutches and his mouth tightened.

  “Should you go to the emergency room?”

  “For what?” He really looked confused.

  “You fell off a horse, remember?”

  He laughed, “I haven’t forgotten. I just don’t know why I’d go to the E.R. for that.”

  “Because that’s what people do when they’re hurt.”

  “Not this cowboy. I’ll take some aspirin, put some ice on it and tomorrow be good as gold.”

  “While the two of you are talking, I’m going into a diabetic coma here.” Etta sighed.

  “You aren’t diabetic.” Jason took an easy step forward. “And if you’ll join me at the Mad Cow, I’ll buy lunch.”

  “I’m not a diabetic, but I’m definitely tired of waiting.” Etta pulled keys out of her purse. “Alyson, can you drive him?”