The Cowboy and the Angel

by T. J. Kline

  “What’s wrong?” She shook her head and tried to force a smile. How could he read her so easily this soon? She couldn’t tell him about her father. This was exactly the kind of worries they’d vowed to avoid today. “Angel, I can’t help if you don’t tell me.”

  “It’s just something I have to figure out on my own.” Her phone rang and she reached for it on the table: Joe. He was the last person she wanted to deal with right now, but she knew she couldn’t avoid this conversation. “I have to take this.”

  She answered the phone, glancing at Derek, who seemed content to remain and listen to her conversation. He sat in the chair across from her and leaned back, crossing his ankles in front of him.

  “One of these days, you’ll listen to me.” She could hear the reprimand in Joe’s voice. “I told you to call him.”

  “I need your help.”

  Derek slid the bottle of water onto the table and crossed his arms over his chest. She could see a flicker of emotion in his eyes and knew he was hurt that she was asking someone else for help, that she was letting someone else in. She cocked her head at him, silently begging him to understand. They didn’t know each other well enough for her to unload this on him.

  “I can’t give you another advance, Angela. You’re already borrowing off next month’s salary.” Joe sighed into the receiver. She could hear the exasperation in his voice and dreaded asking him to bail her father out. “What do you need me to do?”

  Derek arched a brow at her. “Joe, can you hang on for a second?” She hit the button to mute her call. “What?”

  “You’re going to ask your boss for help, but you won’t even tell me what’s going on? Why won’t you let me try to help?”

  “This isn’t your problem,” she argued.

  “Today it is.”

  She stared at him, unable to fathom his need to come to her aid. There was such determination in his face that she almost missed the despair in his eyes. She’d promised him today they would trust one another. She took a deep breath. Trusting him meant confessing her failure as a daughter. She closed her eyes. “Okay.”

  She pushed the button, reconnecting her call with Joe. “Sorry about that. I’m going to have to call you right back.” She hung up, ignoring Joe’s protests coming from the phone’s earpiece.

  Derek’s victorious smile faltered when she grew quiet. “My father is an alcoholic. He’s in jail, and I need to bail him out.”

  He reached across the table for her hand. “Where?”

  She stared at him, her mouth falling open slightly. “Just like that?”

  “Scott can cover for me and we’ll take my truck to get him.”

  Angela slapped her hands on the table, shaking her head. “You’re incredible, you know that?” She wondered why she was angry at Derek when he was so ready to help without judgment. “You don’t even know where he is.”

  “Why are you yelling at me?”

  She rose and began pacing. “Because, you’re just . . . ugh!” She spun and faced him. “I don’t have the money to bail him out again. This will be the third time this month.”

  He reached for her hand and pulled her toward him, forcing her to sit on his lap. “I’ll give you the money.” She glared at him. “Okay, call it a loan. You can clean stalls to earn it off when we get back to the ranch.” He laughed quietly at his own joke but grew serious when he saw the tears of frustration misting her eyes. “Angel, let me help you.”

  “I can’t,” she whispered. “This is my problem. I’m going to have to go back.” She dreaded saying the words aloud. It gave them a power—a reality—she didn’t want them to have.

  “Why don’t we go get him and take him back to the ranch? You can keep an eye on him there, and maybe the time off would do him some good.”

  “He doesn’t work,” she admitted.

  “You support both of you?” He tipped her chin up, and she couldn’t hide the tears of frustration burning in her eyes. “And you’ve already bailed him out twice this month?” Derek sighed and pinched his lips into a thin line. “No wonder you didn’t know what to do,” he muttered. He lifted her onto her feet. “Give me a few minutes to talk with Mike and let him know what’s going on.” He stood and pressed a kiss to her lips, grabbed his water bottle, and headed out the door without waiting for her response.

  Angela watched him go, still shocked at what he was offering. She wasn’t sure this was the best idea. Having her father with her would solve the problem of keeping an eye on him, but he could just as easily cause trouble at the rodeo, where everyone could witness her humiliation.

  Chapter Fifteen

  * * *

  DEREK REACHED FOR her hand as they walked into the police station. Several officers nodded at her as they passed. That was not a good sign. He wondered again if he wasn’t making a mistake, getting far too involved in this woman’s troubles. But one look at the apprehension in her emerald eyes and he knew he couldn’t change his mind. He wanted her to trust him, to understand she could rely on him, even if she’d never been able to rely on anyone else before, especially because she’d never been able to rely on anyone.

  As they approached the desk, Angela stopped suddenly. “Joe?”

  The man at the counter turned around and his eyes slid over Derek, almost immediately dismissing him, before hurrying to pull Angela close.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  He tipped his head at her like a parent scolding a child. “Your dad called me. Since you didn’t call me back . . .” He eyed Derek again and cleared his throat. “Who’s this?”

  “Who’re you?”

  Angela stepped between the two men. “This is Joe, my boss and one of my oldest friends. Joe, this is Derek Chandler, part owner of Findley Brothers Stock Contractors.”

  Derek didn’t want to shake his hand. He didn’t like the way he looked at Angela, a cross between anger and desire. He grasped Joe’s hand with an overly firm grip, letting the man know he was staking his claim. Derek didn’t care how long this guy had known her, Angela was his.

  “Thanks for coming down, Joe, but we’ll take it from here.” Derek stepped up to the desk and pulled out his checkbook.

  “I’ve got this.” Joe brushed past him, glancing at Angela for her agreement. “I’ll take him home.”

  She bit at her lower lip and Derek wondered about her uneasiness. “Actually,” he said, slipping an arm around her waist, “we’re taking him back to the rodeo with us. Angela thought the fresh air would do him some good.”

  Joe arched his brow, ignoring Derek and looking at Angela. “I see.” By the tone of his voice he didn’t, and he wasn’t thrilled with her silence. “I guess you don’t need me then.” He tucked his checkbook back into his jacket pocket. “I’ll see you at the rodeo tomorrow, Chandler.” Joe nodded in his direction.

  Angela’s head snapped up. “You’re coming?”

  “Skip and I are the only two available so we’ll be out in the morning.” He glared at Derek. “Unless you need me sooner?”

  “Tomorrow’s fine,” Derek assured him.

  Joe looked to Angela, as if waiting for her to contradict him. She shrugged and pressed her lips together, making Derek speculate at her uncharacteristic behavior. She almost seemed afraid to say anything and he wondered if there wasn’t more to her relationship with Joe than she let on. She’d told him that she didn’t do relationships, but this went beyond a working association or old friendship.

  The tension should have disappeared with Joe’s exit, but Angela’s nerves were ready to snap by the time the officer escorted her father into the room. She finished signing the paperwork and Derek handed over the money.

  “Derek, this is my father, Robert. Dad, this is Derek Chandler. I’m doing a story on his family business, so we are going to be staying with them for a little while.”

  Derek held out his hand in greeting, but her father eyed him suspiciously, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I just want to go home.”


  Ignoring her father’s rudeness, Derek pulled out his keys. “Why don’t we go get you some clothes before we head back to the rodeo grounds?” He saw the blush creep over Angela’s cheeks as she clenched her jaw.

  “I’ll give you directions,” she offered, helping her father into the backseat of Derek’s truck. He promptly closed his eyes and began snoring.

  Derek shut the door behind Angela as she buckled herself into the passenger seat, easing behind the wheel.

  Angela glanced over at him. “Thank you for this.”

  “You’re welcome, Angel.” He glanced at the sleeping man behind him. “Hopefully he won’t be too hungover.” Derek reached for her hand, kissing the pulse racing at her wrist. She looked over her shoulder at her father and he wanted to somehow ease her mind. “He’s a piece of cake compared to Scott when he’s had a few too many.”

  “Most of the time, he doesn’t stay sober long enough to find out.”

  Derek silently vowed to do anything to make this easier on her. As she gave him directions, they drove through several blocks of questionable neighborhoods, each becoming worse than the next. It wasn’t a slum, but in a town of golf courses and upper-middle class, it couldn’t be considered a good neighborhood. Broken-down cars balanced on cinder blocks, half-covered by torn tarps, decorated several driveways. A young boy pedaled by with an even younger girl riding on the handlebars of his bicycle and waved at Angela.

  “You know them?”

  “Yeah, they live downstairs from us. Right here,” she said, pointing at the driveway of a small apartment complex. Derek pulled into an empty parking spot, barely fitting the big truck under the canopy. Her father woke with a start and, realizing where he was, opened his door, hitting the post roughly before stumbling toward the staircase leading toward their apartment. Angela looked at the ding in the truck and shook her head.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked quietly.

  He grasped her chin in his thumb and forefinger and looked into her eyes. “Yes, I’m sure. He’s just sobering up. It’s fine.”

  “No, it’s not. Look what he did to your truck.” She watched her father head up the stairs toward their apartment.

  Derek pressed a kiss to her lips, wanting to remove the remorse from her eyes. “That’s why we call it a ‘work truck.’ Don’t worry, we’ll manage.”

  He wasn’t letting her run away from him that easily, and he certainly wasn’t about to let the situation with her father ruin the woman he’d seen blossoming during the past few days. She smiled at him sadly before following her father up the steps. Derek looked around him one last time and pressed the button to lock his truck. He hurried up the stairs and into her home. He knew you could learn a lot about a person from their home and wondered exactly what he would learn about someone as reticent as Angela.

  “I’m going to see if he needs any help,” she informed him as she headed down the narrow hallway to her father’s room.

  Derek wandered into a small living room sparsely furnished with a tattered light brown couch, dinged coffee table, and a small entertainment center. The apartment was impeccably clean, as if no one actually lived inside, and had only one small photo nestled in a silver frame near an old television set. He reached for the picture of a woman holding a small girl, beaming up at her mother with adoration.

  There was no mistaking that Angela was the child. Angela couldn’t have been more than six when it was taken. She was the spitting image of her mother but with green eyes instead of her mother’s blue or her father’s deep-brown.

  “Mom,” Angela said, nodding toward the frame in his hands.

  “You look just like her.” Derek hadn’t heard her return. He slipped the frame back on the empty shelf. There was nothing in this apartment that spoke of warmth, and the coldness made him uncomfortable.

  She shrugged and he could see the dejection settling around her shoulders like a worn blanket, threatening to strangle her. He glanced toward the hall, eager to get her out of the apartment and away from the apathy he could see creeping in. “Is your father ready?”

  She leaned her shoulder against the wall and crossed her arms. “Just about.”

  “This place doesn’t seem very . . . you.”

  Her brows arched in surprise. “What do you mean? I’ve lived here forever.”

  Derek frowned and tucked his fingers into the belt loop of her jeans, pulling her into his arms. “You’re all fire and this place is all ice.”

  She looked around the room, sadness filling her eyes. “To be honest, I didn’t plan on coming back until I was ready to move him out for good. But . . .”

  “That explains all the boxes you brought.” Derek gave her a knowing grin. He looked around him at the narrow halls, small rooms, and low ceiling. “I don’t know how you do it. I’d feel claustrophobic.”

  She gave him a sardonic smile. “That’s because you have been spoiled by fresh air, large rooms, and this thing we poor, working-class call money, cowboy. Not all of us have been as fortunate.”

  He didn’t take offense; he had been spoiled. He’d been lucky to grow up on the ranch. It might require hard work, but his family had always supported him, even in his irresponsibility. There was always a place he could return and be accepted. Angela had never had the luxury of a supportive family, trust, or much of a home.

  “Do we really have to do this?” her father asked, dragging his duffle bag behind him.

  “Yes. You might actually have fun, Dad.”

  “Doubt it,” he muttered under his breath.

  Derek took the bag from his hands and carried it downstairs while Angela locked the door. Her hand paused over the lock, making him wonder if she was debating staying or praying to never return.

  ANGELA TRIED TO ignore her father’s small talk throughout the entire ride to the arena, wishing he’d just go back to sleep. If only she could have been that lucky.

  “I don’t remember a lot about the night Angie was born, but I remember thinking she looked just like her mother.”

  Derek glanced over at the man in backseat. “I saw the picture by the television. They look almost identical.”

  “Almost.” Angela saw a frown furrow his brow for a moment before quickly passing, like a shadow. “Her mother was a beautiful woman, too pretty for the likes of me.” Angela had heard her father talk about her mother through the years and couldn’t remember him sounding this tender and reminiscent. He usually sounded like a man wracked with guilt, but today he seemed to remember only the good times. “My Angie-girl has her spirit too.”

  “Really? I never would have guessed that.” Derek glanced at her and gave her a knowing smile. She was grateful Derek seemed to understand she didn’t want his pity. She took a deep breath, holding it for a moment, willing herself to have patience. Her father talked far too much when he’d been drinking.

  As they turned into the rodeo grounds, Derek pulled to the back and several trailers came into view. A few horse trailers were pulling out now that some of the roping events had finished, and it looked like the barrel racers were preparing for their rides. Angela sighed, irritated her father had cost her an entire day she should have been working on her story. Who knew what she missed while she retrieved him from jail yet again. Her anger sparked at his selfishness. How could he be so narcissistic to take her away from her job, the only means she had to feed him and keep a roof over his head?

  As Derek pulled to a stop, she jumped out of the truck and slammed the door. She couldn’t bear to look at her father, and she was too embarrassed to talk to Derek. “Dad, I’m going to try to get some work done. Take your things to that trailer and get some sleep. Don’t go anywhere without telling either Derek or me.”

  Her father glanced from her to Derek. “I could have stayed home.”

  “Dad,” she said with a sigh, feeling guilty for her sharp words. “I couldn’t leave you there alone. Derek and I have work to do. He runs the rodeo and took time out today to drive me to pick you up. Yo
u should thank him instead of acting ungrateful.”

  “Come on, Mr. McCallister. I’ll show you where you can get some rest. We’re almost done for today anyway.”

  Angela saw her father’s eyes light on the various trailers and equipment, making her hesitant to let him go. “Dad, please stay out of trouble while you’re here, okay?”

  Her father frowned. “I’ll be fine. If you were so worried . . .”

  “Sir, let me introduce you to Mike Findley. He actually started this company with my father.”

  She mouthed a quick thank you to Derek as he turned to take her father toward the trailer. Angela was grateful for Derek’s interference. His kindness and patience with her father were more than she could have ever hoped for. She could see the annoyance on her father’s face. He’d made it clear to her in their apartment he didn’t want a change of scenery. Why would he? Here he was under her watchful eye again, and in such close proximity the likelihood of slipping a drink past her was pretty slim.

  She headed to the announcer’s booth where she could watch the barrel racers from their entry to their exit. She was determined to focus on the rodeo and her story, even with her father near. She frowned, watching her father enter the trailer with Derek, but shoved her worries about him aside. She needed to have some sort of story ready for Joe when he arrived.

  She looked toward the gate when the announcer called the name of the next competitor, Alicia Kanani. She watched the animal hopping onto its back feet from behind the closed gate with its rider tugging on the reins, barely keeping the animal under control. The horse’s shod feet kicked up dust as she turned the horse so it couldn’t see the gate. As a cowboy opened it inward, she spun her paint, charging into the arena. Steering the horse sharply to the right, Angela gasped as the horse curled his rump under him and slid toward the barrel, leaning precariously. She saw the barrel tip as the rider bumped it with her knee somehow managing to keep it upright as she kicked the horse on to her second turn.