A Cowboy's Heart

by Brenda Minton

  Chapter Eleven

  Clint turned when he heard a bull bellow. He shouted, but Willow didn’t turn. She kept walking, as if she had no idea. He yelled again, and the boys screamed. The black bull that had been standing along the far fence was running toward her as she walked in the opposite direction.

  “Willow!”

  He left the boys standing in the yard and ran. He knew he wouldn’t make it in time. He could only pray that he made it in time to keep the bull from killing her. He prayed she would hear him and turn around.

  The bull hit her from behind, pushing her to the ground and wallowing her into the dirt. She did what a bull rider would do, curled into a ball and tried to roll out from under the pounding hooves.

  Clint climbed the fence and jumped to the ground, yelling at the bull and waving his arms. Willow lay motionless on the ground. The bull changed directions as Bell came running across the field. The dog charged at the bull’s legs, leading the animal away.

  “Willow?” He dropped to his knees next to her, brushing a hand across her face. “Willow, wake up.”

  Her eyes opened briefly and then closed again. Clint pulled her close and stood up, holding her limp form in his arms.

  “Honey, you sure aren’t light.” He kissed her forehead. Her eyes fluttered again. “Wake up, okay?”

  She blinked again and groaned, her hand going to her head. He watched, helplessly, as blood oozed from the cut. When he was almost to the truck, he shouted for Timmy to open the door.

  David stood to the side, his teeth worrying his lip and his eyes wide in fear. He smiled at the boy, hoping to ease his fears.

  “She’s okay, guys.” He prayed he wasn’t lying. He slid her into the truck and then rummaged for napkins he’d stored in the console between the seats. “Climb in the back.”

  He turned and the boys were scurrying to the driver’s side to do what he’d asked. He held the napkins to her forehead, and she moaned and opened her eyes again.

  “Hold on, we’re going to the hospital.”

  She didn’t say anything, and her eyes closed.

  Silence and cold were the two things she noticed first. But a warm hand touched her cheek. Willow blinked, and it hurt. Her head ached, and the light hit right behind her eyes. She blinked again and then managed to keep her eyes open. Clint stood in front of her, his expression full of concern.

  WELCOME BACK, he signed, his lips moving. No sound.

  What had happened? Panic hit, she moved, trying to get up. Pain shot through her head and down her back. She groaned and let firm hands push her back to the mattress.

  The nurse smiled, her lips moved. “Calm down.”

  Willow closed her eyes, trying to remember. She opened them again when Clint’s hand touched her arm. His hand, because it was rough, strong, and warm. A doctor stood next to him, asking questions.

  DO YOU REMEMBER WHAT DAY IT IS? Clint signed.

  “Thursday.” She moved her hand to her ears. “Where are the hearing aids?”

  BROKEN. DO YOU REMEMBER WHAT HAPPENED?

  “I think a truck got loose and ran over me.”

  CLOSE, IT WAS A BULL. He was smiling, but the lines around his mouth were tight, and humor didn’t light his gray eyes.

  “It felt like a truck.” She wanted to smile, but everything hurt. And she shuddered, remembering. She remembered the ground vibrating, and being hit from behind. That big head had pushed her down, and her forehead had hit something hard.

  YOU REMEMBER WHAT HAPPENED? Clint’s hands moved, asking the question.

  “Yes, I remember. I think the bull knocked me down. I was going to check on him.”

  Clint sat down on the stool next to her bed. Willow, you didn’t hear me.

  She looked away, smiling when Janie walked through the door. “I’m fine. I’m not sure why the two of you look so worried.”

  WE’RE WORRIED BECAUSE WE…He looked away. BECAUSE WE CARE ABOUT YOU.

  She touched her head, wincing because the pain was sharp. She hadn’t heard Clint. Tears squeezed between closed eyes, warm on her cheeks. She shivered, and a blanket slid over her.

  When she opened her eyes, Clint was there, no one else. “Thank you for being here.”

  “That’s what friends do. They help each other. You’ve helped me with the boys. You’ve given us a place to stay, and you make them feel safe.” He signed the words and his lips moved.

  “They’re easy to love.” She covered his hand that rested on her arm. “Where did Janie go?”

  “She left so that I could talk to you.”

  “Oh.” An intervention. Great.

  “You didn’t hear me.”

  “Maybe you weren’t shouting loud enough.”

  “Willow, you have to tell us what’s going on. We care about you.” His hands moved as he spoke, showing his anger in a way that she clearly understood. “I guess you don’t have to tell me, but I do think you owe Janie an explanation.”

  She looked away, not ready for this, for finding out the truth about his friendship. Would it last when he learned the truth? He touched her arm, and she couldn’t ignore him, or the truth, any longer.

  And she reminded herself how few hearing people had ever taken the time to sign for her. She’d always relied on reading lips. Clint had bridged that gap. He didn’t have to.

  “I know that I owe you both an explanation. But I didn’t want this to keep Janie from moving.”

  “This.”

  “My hearing is going to get progressively worse.”

  EXPLAIN, he signed.

  “Profound hearing loss. The hearing aids will be practically or totally useless. It’s hard to tell at this point.”

  He sighed, and his hand went to his chest, his fist circling his heart. I’M SORRY.

  She nodded, because what else could he say, or she say? This was it, the truth, the inevitable. This was where she learned how strong a friendship they had.

  This is where she found out if he stayed in her life or walked.

  “It isn’t the end of the world.” She’d had a few days to deal with the news. She could see shock all over his face.

  “Of course it isn’t.” He smiled as he said the words.

  Reality was easy to think about, until a person was face-to-face with it. Complete hearing loss—a huge change in how she lived, and how the people around her lived their lives.

  It changed everything.

  “Where are the boys?” she asked.

  IN THE WAITING ROOM WITH JANIE, he signed, and she nodded.

  “We should go. They’re probably hungry. And I ruined their day at the creek.”

  “The boys are fine with Janie. She’s going to take them home, and she’s going to call your folks to let them know what happened.”

  “No, don’t call my parents. They’ll just worry, and I don’t want them to worry.”

  THEY’RE YOUR PARENTS, Clint signed, and then he stood up, like he meant to leave. She didn’t want him to go. “And they’ll be hurt if they find out later.”

  “I have a concussion, and my head hurts. I need to sleep.”

  NO SLEEPING. A new doctor entered the room, a woman with short brown hair and fingers adept at signing. YOU’LL HAVE TO STAY AWAKE FOR A WHILE. AND I WOULD REALLY LIKE IT IF YOU WOULD SPEND THE NIGHT.

  Willow groaned and closed her eyes. “No, please don’t make me spend the night.”

  It felt like five years ago, when everyone made the decisions for her. But it wasn’t. This time she had Janie and Clint. And she had faith. Five years ago she had really and truly been on her own, with God as an afterthought, filed somewhere at the back of her mind like so many other childhood memories.

  “Does she have to spend the night?” Clint signed and spoke to the doctor, not leaving Willow out of the conversation. “We can keep an eye on her.”

  The doctor looked from Willow to Clint. “I want her to stay for a few hours, and then we’ll discuss her going home.”

  Clint patted her arm to ge
t her attention. “I’ll go talk to Janie about taking the boys home. Or I can take them home, and Janie can stay with you. Either way, one of us will be here.”

  Willow closed her eyes and nodded. When she opened them, Clint was gone. He was talking to Janie. Or had he left? She couldn’t find a clock on the wall and had no way of knowing what time it was or how long she’d been there. She closed her eyes again, wanting to escape the pain, because it wasn’t just the bumps and bruises from the bull that hurt.

  Willow was asleep when Clint walked through the curtain partition that separated her from other patients. He didn’t want to wake her, but knew he had to. She looked peaceful in sleep, as if it was rest that she needed.

  He touched her arm, and her eyes flickered and opened. His smile brought one from her, and then her hand touched the place on her forehead where they’d given her a few stitches.

  “Ouch,” she whispered. “That’s going to leave a mark.”

  He smiled and laughed a little. “Yes, it’s going to leave a mark.”

  “Does it look bad?”

  YOU LOOK BETTER THAN YOU DID, he signed, and then laughed. “Not that you ever look bad. I mean, you usually look great.”

  “I’m not sure if I feel hurt or complimented.” She pushed the button and lifted the bed to a sitting position. “I do know that I’m ready to get out of here.”

  “You have to stay until the doctor releases you. And I wouldn’t push her. She isn’t in favor of you leaving today.”

  “The boys…”

  “Are fine with Janie.” He scooted the stool closer to her side. “Willow, this is serious. We need to come up with a plan.”

  “Clint.”

  He lifted his hands and shook his head. “You’re right, none of my business.”

  “No, it isn’t your business.” She smiled past him, and he turned in time to see a nurse walk away. Willow’s hands began a quick firing of words. I DON’T WANT TO HAVE TO COME UP WITH A PLAN.

  WHY?

  AVOIDANCE. I KNOW WHAT’S HAPPENING TO MY OWN BODY. I ALSO KNOW THAT IF JANIE KNOWS, SHE’LL PUT OFF MOVING.

  YOU THINK YOU’RE ONLY STRONG IF YOU HOLD ON AND DON’T LET PEOPLE HELP YOU.

  I’VE LET YOU HELP. She smiled like it all made perfect sense. “Now, I really want to get out of here, Clint. I want to sleep in my own room. I want to have breakfast with Janie and the boys.”

  “For a price I could see if it could be arranged.”

  “For a price?”

  “You have to let friends face this with you. You’re not alone, so stop acting like you are.” He smiled, to soften the words. “Trust your friends.”

  “I know, and I do trust you. But you have your hands full with the boys. And if this is going to happen, I have to deal with it and learn how to keep going.”

  “I know, but just remember, you can trust me.”

  Trust. An easy little word but with so many complications.

  It was easy to commit to someone when things were going well, when there were no obstacles in the way. But obstacles could damage any relationship, even something as simple as friendship.

  She was going to lose her hearing. End of story. That was a big complication.

  Clint touched her hand, drawing her attention back to him. “It’s going to be okay. And I’m going to be here to help.”

  “I know. And I do trust you.”

  “You’re saying what you think I want to hear because you want something. You want to go home.”

  She shrugged. “Is it working?”

  “No.”

  Of course not. He wasn’t easy to dissuade. He wasn’t prone to chasing rabbits or getting off track.

  “Okay, fine, we’ll talk. I’ve been dealing with this, trying to get through it and adjust.”

  “But you’re doing this alone, and we could have helped.”

  “You won’t always be here.” She shifted her gaze toward the window, away from his sympathy. “Janie won’t always be here. What am I going to do with my business when I can’t hear a caller on the telephone, or announcers at events?”

  “I get it.” He stood but he didn’t move away. “But I don’t get why you think you’re doing this alone.”

  “I know that I’m not. I’m just trying to prepare.”

  “We can help you with that.”

  She shook her head. “No, you can’t. You can’t help me face how people will react.”

  “Which means?”

  “There are three different ways people can react. One. Let me keep living my life, and keep treating me the way I’ve been treated. Second. Some people will walk away, because it’s just too difficult to deal with. Or the third option, start treating me like I can’t take care of myself.”

  He nodded, not answering right away. And she wondered which option he would choose.

  “One day at a time, Willow. That’s how we’ll deal with this.”

  He kept saying “we” like he meant to stay in her life. Each time he said it her heart battled between wanting to believe and being afraid to believe.

  “Yes, one day at a time.”

  I’M NOT GOING ANYWHERE. He signed it with force.

  “I know you aren’t. Now go see if you can break me out of here. I promise to be good.”

  He nodded. “I’ll see if I can make a deal.”

  “Thank you.”

  He walked out the door and after he left she sighed and leaned back against the bed. Clint wanted to make sure she survived whatever might happen to her in the future.

  Thirty minutes later he lifted her off her feet and carried her the short distance from the doors of the hospital to his waiting truck. Her arms were around his neck, and when she argued that she could walk, he shook his head.

  She’d correctly guessed his type. He was a rescuer. He couldn’t help himself. It was as much a part of him as his eye color, as his faith, as his sense of loyalty. And it wasn’t a bad thing, his need to rescue.

  Maybe he needed rescuing, too? That thought brought a smile that she hid in the soft curve of his shoulder. She could rescue him.

  He opened the truck door and leaned in to set her on the seat. His arms were around her, and hers were still wrapped around his neck. His breath, minty and warm, touched her cheek as he drew back, and he paused, his hands resting lightly on her arms.

  As they stared at one another, Willow tried to think of something to say. Words failed her. Clint’s hand brushed hair back from her face and lingered at the nape of her neck.

  “I’m going to kiss you.” His hands also signed the words, soft and beautiful, like a whisper.

  “We’ll regret this tomorrow.” The words edged past the tightness in her throat.

  “Maybe.”

  As he leaned closer, Willow held her breath, waiting for that moment when Clint’s lips touched hers. It wasn’t a fleeting kiss, not a promise of something more to come. The kiss was the promise. It felt like forever, warm and firm, touching places forgotten, or places she’d never known.

  She slid her hands through his hair and waited for reality to return as his soft curls wrapped around her fingers. The kiss went deeper, and her emotions took flight as his hands rested on her back, holding her close.

  A long moment, and they pulled apart. Willow couldn’t talk, she nearly couldn’t breathe. That kiss had felt different, it had felt dangerously close to falling in love. Clint leaned against the door of the truck, looking like he’d been run over by the same bull that hit her. He pushed a hand through his hair and whistled.

  Who was rescuing whom?

  “That was either the best thing I’ve ever done, or the biggest mistake of my life.”

  Willow’s mouth opened and she shook her head. Reading lips could sometimes be a problem. Surely she’d misunderstood. “Big mistake?”

  His fingers moved, slow and a little shaky. HOW DO WE GO BACK TO FRIENDSHIP?

  Lines drawn and now smudged. Badly smudged. She’d drawn those lines herself, knowing she had to find the place
where he fit comfortably into her world, where he wasn’t a threat, and where he was least likely to hurt her.

  What now?

  “I’m not sure, Clint. But I’d like to go home.” Because suddenly—maybe because of the head injury, or maybe because of a kiss—she couldn’t remember why it had been so important to her that he be only a friend.

  And now he seemed to think they could only be friends.

  He started to say something, and Willow looked away, avoiding his words. He touched her shoulder, and she shook her head. She wasn’t going to listen. She signed the words, and he turned her so that they were facing each other.

  NOT FAIR, he signed.

  “Kissing me like that and calling it a mistake wasn’t fair.” She lifted her chin a notch, more for confidence than a statement of defiance. “I need time to think, and I really don’t want to listen to what you have to say. If I have to, I’ll close my eyes.”

  He laughed. “That’s about the most juvenile thing I’ve ever heard from a grown woman.”

  “Yes, it is, isn’t it? Juvenile, but effective.”

  She couldn’t stay mad at him when she’d been thinking what he’d had the nerve to say. A great kiss, or a big mistake. She thought maybe it fit into both categories.

  Chapter Twelve

  Clint left Willow in Janie’s capable hands that first night, and the next day she spent resting. Janie insisted. He waited until the second day after the accident to face her again, and to let the boys visit.

  The boys had demanded it. A whole day without Willow had been too much for them. He followed them into the house, warning them to take it easy because she might not feel like having company. Especially rowdy four-year-old company.

  But he figured his company would be the least welcome, because he had stepped a little too far into her life. As much as it had felt as if she enjoyed being in his arms, as much as he enjoyed having her there, it had definitely done something. It had put distance between them.

  Maybe because they both had a lot to think about. He sure hadn’t been expecting this when he met her. He hadn’t been looking for these feelings.