A Cowboy's Heart

by Brenda Minton

  He reached for her hand as she started up the steps, and she stopped.

  “Willow, we both have to eat lunch.”

  Simple, nonintrusive lunch.

  She had a list of reasons why she had to walk away, and for a moment they seemed meaningless. To be honest, she couldn’t remember a single one of those reasons.

  “Okay, lunch is good.”

  He stood up, grinning, and then he winked. “Say it like you mean it.”

  “I mean it.” And suddenly she did, because his hand reached for hers, warm, calloused and strong, and he was a friend.

  “I’m buying.”

  “I can buy my own lunch.”

  “I know you can, but I’m not going to let you.”

  And that made it feel too much like a date, too much like a line crossed. But a strong person could let a man buy her lunch and not be frightened by tomorrow, or next week, or even next year.

  IT’S JUST LUNCH, WILLOW. He had pulled his hand free and signed the words, keeping it between them and not the people walking up behind them.

  “I know.”

  “Tell me one really embarrassing thing about yourself. Something really private.”

  Willow pulled away, ready to think up an excuse, a reason she needed out of this lunch date, and then she saw his smile. He winked and pulled her close again.

  “Kidding, Willow. Nothing embarrassing or private, not today.”

  “No, I like that idea. But today, you have to tell me something about yourself, too.”

  They were walking down a hallway lit by fluorescent lights, toward the exit at the back of the building, and somehow they had lost the others from the church service. Or maybe they’d gone a different way. Willow hadn’t really been paying attention. Instead she felt a little lost in the lighthearted moment between herself and a cowboy in new jeans and a white button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled up to expose blond hair on suntanned arms.

  He was the kind of cowboy a girl could lose her heart to. The kind dreams were made of.

  He pushed the doors open and motioned for her to go through. They walked across the parking lot, not talking. It reminded her of the day at the doctor’s office when he hadn’t pushed for her secrets.

  “You go first.” She smiled, not looking at him, but wondering what was in his mind, and what face he was making.

  “First?” He was pulling the keys to the truck out of his pocket.

  “Secret sharing, remember?”

  “Okay, I’ll go first.”

  Curious, she looked up, and he smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He had pushed his hands into his pockets, and he pulled them out, signing as he spoke.

  “I sucked my thumb until I was four.”

  And she could picture that, because she knew that he must have looked like David. An insecure little boy with silver-blond hair and gray eyes. And now, insecure? She didn’t think so.

  “That isn’t embarrassing.” She opened the passenger-side door, even though he was there. “That’s cute.”

  “Cute, huh?” He laughed. “So you think I’m cute?”

  “Four-year-old Clint, with blond hair and torn jeans, his thumb in his mouth, was cute. You’re…”

  His brows arched, waiting.

  “You’re too full of yourself.”

  “You still think I’m cute.”

  “For a dirty ole bull rider, who limps a lot and creaks when he stands up, I guess you’re okay.”

  “So, now it’s your turn.” He was leaning in, one hand on the door to keep it from blowing shut. Up close she could see the crinkles at the corners of his eyes and a tiny cut on his forehead from the fall last night.

  “I don’t think so. You gave me thumb sucking, which isn’t private or embarrassing.”

  His smile faded and he looked at her, a long look that made her doubt whether she should push him for personal information.

  “Never mind.”

  NO, I’LL GIVE YOU SOMETHING. He signed, slower now, more thoughtful. She stopped his hands, holding them in hers.

  “I can hear you.”

  “Okay. I’ve never really been in love. A couple of times I thought I might be, but it never worked out.” He shrugged.

  And Willow had been right; she was sorry that she’d pushed him to reveal his stories. It was too much information, and in his eyes she could still see that boy who had been hurt too many times.

  Sharing secrets was dangerous. It had opened a door that shouldn’t have been opened.

  “Too much information?” He smiled and when he climbed in behind the wheel, he shot her a look. “Your turn.”

  “I’m not sure if I made that deal.” She clicked her seatbelt and reached to turn the radio down.

  “I think we did.” He started the truck and shifted into reverse. “Come on, if I can share that I’m a dropout in the school of love, surely you can give me something.”

  “You want me to share something miserable about my life, so you can feel better about yours?” She couldn’t help but smile.

  “Something like that.”

  “Okay, I won’t go into detail, but I, too, am a—what did you call it?”

  “Dropout in the school of love.”

  “Catchy, in a tongue-tying sort of way. Okay, I’m the girl most likely to be standing alone at any social function because people think I can’t communicate. And I’m the most likely to be dumped.” She could have told him the many different ways she’d been dumped or stood up. But that was a little too much reality for a beautiful summer day.

  He winked. “At least we have each other.”

  “Of course. Now, if you think we’ve sufficiently humiliated ourselves, I would really like pizza.”

  His eyebrows arched. “Pizza it is.”

  Step one in developing a new life—Try new things.

  She smiled at Clint and he smiled back. And it felt a lot like trying something new.

  Clint’s phone rang just as he was paying the waitress for their lunch. He answered and listened as Janie explained that David had fallen asleep on the way back to the hotel from church, and he was crying for his mom. They hadn’t made it to the zoo.

  When they walked through the door of Willow’s suite at the hotel, Clint saw David sitting in a corner of the couch, tears still streaming down his face. Willow made a noise, and he turned. Her eyes shimmered with tears and she gave him a watery smile.

  “I’ll take Timmy downstairs for ice cream,” she offered.

  “No, don’t. I’m not sure what to say to him, Willow. I don’t know how to get him through this.”

  “Pray with him, Clint. That’s the only answer. He’s a little boy, but a child’s faith is stronger than you think.” She smiled past him, at the child on the couch, hugging knees to his chest. “And hug him.”

  He nodded, but it took him back more than twenty years, to his own mother sitting on his bed praying for him to make wise decisions. He had forgotten. How had he forgotten something so important?

  He also remembered how it had felt when she didn’t come home that first night after the accident. His world had shattered, and he’d had to pick up his own pieces, and Jenna’s, too, because their father hadn’t been able.

  He did have an idea of how Timmy and David felt. They were younger than he had been, but he had experienced those empty nights of waiting for someone to come home. Jenna would come back.

  Willow touched his back and when he turned, she smiled. “Do you want me to stay?”

  He did. But he shook his head. “No, I should handle this one. I’ll take both boys to my room. And then they should probably take a nap before tonight.”

  “Are you riding tonight?”

  He shook his head. “No, I’m not going to take that chance.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He shrugged, and he was sorry, too. It was his dream slipping away. He had a feeling she understood.

  “I’ll catch up with you later.” He gathered the boys and headed for the doors. “I’ll h
elp you with the bulls tonight, since I won’t have anything else to do.”

  The boys leaned against him, a little weepy and a little tired. Just boys in need of one-on-one time. He held them close and walked them to the door. Willow stood to the side, and he remembered what she’d told him about herself, that a lot of her life she had stood by herself in a hearing world, feeling different.

  Chapter Nine

  Tuesday morning, Willow fed her animals early and headed for the house to talk to Janie. On the drive home from Kansas City she had prayed about talking to her aunt. She wanted Janie to keep her dream of moving to Florida. First Willow had to convince Janie that she’d be able to run the ranch without her aunt to help.

  When she walked into the kitchen, Janie turned from taking the newly baked biscuits from the baking sheet. She didn’t smile. Not good.

  “What’s up?” Willow leaned against the counter, watching her aunt.

  “I have a message from your doctor for you. He wants you to call.” Janie frowned again. “You went to the doctor?”

  “I did, and he did tests.”

  “And?”

  “And, I don’t know. I haven’t talked to him yet.” Willow poured herself a cup of coffee that smelled old, but she didn’t really want to drink it. She wanted something to distract herself. “Janie, I don’t want to talk about it. I’ll call him, and I’ll find out what the test results were.”

  Big sigh from Janie. “Okay, but you have to let me know what he says.”

  “I will.” Willow smiled, and then she wrapped her aunt in a loose hug. “Janie, I know you want to move to Florida, and I want you to sell me the ranch. Or at least let me lease it.”

  Janie pulled loose from the hug. “Don’t butter me up with hugs, Willow. I’m worried, and you want to sidetrack me with this conversation.”

  “I’m not buttering you up. I put it off, and now seems like a good time to talk. You want to move. And I don’t want you to stay here, believing you have to take care of me.”

  Janie shook her head. “You know that I don’t think that.”

  Willow sipped the burnt coffee and then poured it down the sink. It was past disgusting. “You would stay for that reason. I can hire Clint. And I have Brian.”

  “I know you do. But you’re my girl, and I don’t want to leave you alone.”

  “If you don’t go, you’ll regret it, and I’ll feel guilty.”

  Janie nodded. “I’ll think about it. The girls are flying down to Florida in two weeks. I might just go with them. If you think you’ll be okay.”

  “I’ll be okay. And now, I need to go talk to Clint. I need to make sure he’s willing to help. If not, I’ll put the word out that I’m looking for a foreman.”

  “Clint would be a great choice. The two of you…”

  Willow raised a hand. “Don’t go there, Janie. Clint is a friend, and that’s all. I’m not looking for anything more than friendship. I’ve learned my lesson.”

  “We all have lessons to learn. We never stop learning, and we should never stop growing. But we should also keep the doors open so that God can do what He wants to do in our lives.”

  “I’ll remember that.” Willow grabbed a biscuit off the baking sheet and blew a kiss to her aunt. “I’ll be back.”

  As Willow walked toward the foreman’s house, she tossed the last bite of biscuit to Bell, who trotted along behind her, stubby tail wagging. Willow could smell bacon frying.

  As Willow walked up the stairs to the front porch of the house, she heard Clint singing along to the radio. The boys were laughing. She stopped, not wanting to interrupt.

  She leaned against the side of the house, listening to something beautiful. The laughter of the children, the love in Clint’s voice when he told Timmy to get ready for a great breakfast, and country music filtering out the screen door. She hugged herself, wishing for something she couldn’t have and knowing that soon she might not be able to hear moments like this.

  “Oh man, this isn’t good,” Clint shouted. The boys screamed. She couldn’t make out all of their words.

  Time to interrupt. Willow knocked on the door, and he yelled for her to come in. She walked into the kitchen and into chaos. The skillet was on fire. Clint was slapping it with a wet towel. The boys were standing against the far wall, hands over their mouths.

  “The lid, Clint.” Willow walked across the room, searching the counter. No lid. She grabbed a baking sheet out of the dish drainer and slid it over the top of the pan, smothering the flames.

  Clint dropped the singed towel in the sink, and then he rubbed his shoulder. “I’m not a cook.”

  “Obviously. But what have you done all these years, because you’re definitely not starving?”

  “Drive-thru, what else?” He smiled. “What has you down here so bright and early?”

  “I guess I’m here to tell the boys that I can make decent scrambled eggs.” She looked into the pan. “But the bacon is a lost cause.”

  “I can help.” Clint grinned, and the boys groaned.

  “I think that’s a response you can’t ignore. Timmy and David have vetoed your offer.” She grabbed the carton of eggs and a bowl out of the dish drainer. “Do you have milk?”

  Clint pulled a half-full jug out of the fridge. “Milk. What else?”

  “Cheese?”

  He found cheese and tossed the bag next to the milk. “What are you doing here so early, other than making breakfast for three starving guys?”

  “Did I say I would make you breakfast? I think I just offered to make breakfast for the boys.”

  “You wouldn’t let me starve.”

  “No, I wouldn’t.” She cracked eggs into the bowl. “I came down to talk to you about working for me. Permanently. Janie and I discussed her move to Florida. I don’t want her to feel like she has to stay here and take care of me.”

  “You know that I want to work on my farm.”

  “I know. And I really can put out the word that I need to hire someone. It’s just that you…”

  She sighed, because it was a lot to tell him. He made her feel comfortable. And he knew sign language. The comfort part was easy to admit. But if she admitted the part about sign language it meant admitting something more about herself and her future.

  “Willow, I do want to work for you. I only mean to say that I can work here, and I can work on my place. I can do both.”

  “I don’t want to take you away from something that’s important to you.”

  “You won’t be taking me away.” He took the lid off the milk and handed it to her. “We work well together. I don’t think you’re going to find anyone else quite like me.”

  She smiled up at him. “I can’t imagine that I would.”

  Timmy and David gathered at her side, watching as she cracked eggs into the bowl. They were still wearing pajamas, and they hadn’t brushed their hair. Their uncle had the same, hadn’t been-up-long look. She glanced sideways at the man next to her in sweats cut off at the knees, bare feet and a white T-shirt.

  “Can we help?” Timmy looked into the bowl.

  Distracted, she nodded, and then she had to admit she hadn’t really heard his question. He gave her a look and repeated it.

  “You can.” Willow handed him the whisk. “Can you mix this up for me?”

  The little boy stirred and stirred until the eggs were foamy and splattering on the counter.

  “I think that’s good.” Clint took the whisk and handed it to David. “Your turn.”

  David stirred, more gently. He kept hold of his bottom lip with his teeth, concentrating. Willow leaned and kissed the top of his head. She prayed for their mom, that Jenna would come home soon.

  And she prayed for herself, because she had to call the doctor and face her own future. They were all facing changes. She wrapped an arm around Timmy and he cuddled into her side.

  She wouldn’t have traded that morning with them for anything.

  After breakfast Clint watched Willow heading for the barn
, the twins walking with her. She had a surprise for them. He knew that it was a calf from a local dairy farm. She’d bought it for the boys to bottle-feed.

  He cleaned the kitchen, washing the skillet the eggs had been cooked in and leaving the bacon pan to soak. As he walked down toward the barn, Bell joined him, carrying the ever-present stick in her mouth. He tossed it and kept walking.

  Squeals of delight echoed in the early morning, and somewhere a rooster crowed, a little late. Clint walked around the side of the barn and saw the boys standing in front of the corral, both holding tight to the giant-sized bottle that they held through the fence for the calf.

  The calf pushed again, like he would have done to his mom’s udder, trying to get more milk. The boys laughed, real belly laughs. The calf pushed the bottle, and they dropped it on the ground.>

  Clint leaned against the corner of the barn and watched Willow. She was leaning against the fence, gazing at the boys. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and her blue eyes shimmered. When she saw him, she smiled, a smile that didn’t hold back, that didn’t have shadows.

  David had picked up the bottle, and the calf sucked again, just getting air. The boys groaned because they didn’t want to stop feeding the calf. And the calf wasn’t ready for them to stop.

  “We’ll give him grain, guys. He won’t be hungry.” Willow took the slobbery bottle and held it loosely in one hand. Clint laughed, because she owned bucking bulls, and she was holding that bottle like it was a bug.

  “Want me to take that?” he offered.

  She tossed it, and he had to catch it or get hit. His hand slid down the side, and the calf slobber slimed him. Okay, it wasn’t pleasant. He looked up, and she was giving him a look, brows raised and a little quirk to her lips.

  “What’s the matter, is it disgusting?” she asked as she handed the feed bucket to the boys. Timmy held the handle and climbed the fence to dump it into the feeder.

  David grabbed the water hose.

  Clint shrugged. “Doesn’t bother me at all. What did you name the calf?”

  “Sir Loin,” the boys shouted in unison.

  “Nice.” Clint shook his head. “I’m not going to ask.”