A Cowboy's Heart

by Brenda Minton

  As he walked down the hall, he heard Janie in the back room, talking to the boys. Willow was silent. He walked into the sitting room where the boys were chattering to Janie, and Willow was trying to follow along. As he walked through the door, he signed their excited words for her.

  Willow smiled over their heads, and the boys continued to jabber about the kittens crawling around in the barn and Bell chasing a mouse.

  “Guys, get off Willow. Give her a break.” He signed as he spoke to the boys, making sure she didn’t get left out.

  “They’re fine. They’re just excited about their new trucks.”

  “They’re going to play, and then we’re going to try the creek again.” He sat down on the couch next to Willow.

  “Sounds like fun. I think I’ll not go this time.”

  “You didn’t make it last time.”

  “And because of me, the boys missed out on fishing and the rope swing.” She hugged both boys and kissed the tops of their heads. Clint told himself it was silly to be jealous of little boys.

  “I think they understood.” He pulled the boys to his side and gave them each a bear hug. “I’m going to get some work done this morning. We’ll do the creek this afternoon, guys. For now, the two of you can play outside where I can see you.”

  Willow followed him to the front door. As the boys grabbed their cars and ran off for a dirt patch that they were itching to dig around in, Willow caught hold of his arm.

  “Clint, don’t do this.”

  “Do what?”

  “Don’t treat me different. Don’t let my hearing, a kiss, whatever has happened, don’t let it change things between us.” She bit down on her bottom lip and shrugged, “I don’t want to lose your friendship.”

  “You haven’t lost me, Willow.”

  “Haven’t I?”

  “No, you haven’t. I have a lot on my mind. Yes, I’m worried about you. I’m worried about what this all means to your future here. I’m worried because I haven’t had an e-mail from Jenna. I’m worried because the boys miss their mom. I’m about exhausted from worry.”

  “Then don’t let me be one of the things you worry about. I’m fine. I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time now, and I’m going to keep taking care of myself. I’m not giving up on this farm, or raising bulls. I’ll figure something out. And I’m still very capable of helping with the boys. Don’t take that away from me.”

  “I’m sorry, Willow.” He brushed a hand through his hair. “This isn’t about you. It’s me. I’m just tired, and I have work to do in the barn.”

  “Okay, go work in the barn. I have an appointment in town.” She pulled him back. “Hey, that’s my barn. Is there something going on that I should know about?”

  Well, he really hadn’t wanted to deal with this right now. But from the look on her face, he wasn’t going to have the chance to walk away without telling her everything.

  “Nothing important, just going to clean the stalls and meet James McKinney later. He wants to look at that little cow you were talking about selling, the Hereford.”

  “James McKinney is coming to look at one of my cows? James doesn’t like my cows.”

  “They’re cows like everyone else’s.”

  “No, not in James’s mind they’re not.” She frowned, and it was cute. “I think in his mind my cows are city cows.”

  “Well, he must have changed his mind. I saw him at the feed store, and he mentioned buying a cow for his granddaughter. She’s joined 4-H.”

  “And you offered to sell him my cow.”

  “You told me you wanted to sell her.” He shook his head. “Willow, I’m just about confused now. If you don’t want to sell that heifer, I’ll call him and tell him not to come over.”

  “Go ahead and sell her.” She turned and walked back inside the house. Bell sat on the porch staring at Clint and then looking at the door.

  “She even has you confused, doesn’t she?” He patted his leg, and the dog followed him out to the barn.

  After cleaning out a few stalls Clint fixed a bottle for the calf and held it over the fence. The black-and-white animal nudged the bottle and then latched on and drank down the milk in a matter of minutes. Clint pulled the bottle away and dumped grain into the trough.

  “That’s it, buddy.” He dropped the bottle in the bucket, sat it inside the barn and then walked through the dry, dusty lot. He glanced up, hoping for a sign of rain. Not a cloud in the sky. It was near the end of June, and they could use a good soaking before the grass dried up and they had to start hauling in hay from somewhere else.

  The cow he was going to show James McKinney was in the corral. He’d brought her up last night, separating her from the rest of the herd to make it easier to show her today. When she saw him coming she mooed a pitiful sound, asking for her companions and some grain. He lifted the bucket of grain he’d carried out for her. That’d have to be enough to keep her happy.

  A deep red with brown eyes in a white face, she lumbered to the feed and shoved her nose into the molasses-covered corn and oats, snorting and blowing it across the metal trough. He reached through and rubbed the top of her head. She jerked away, grain slobbering from her mouth as her tongue licked to draw it back in.

  “Yeah, you’re not the only female mad at me.” He lifted his leg and hooked his boot on the lower rail of the fence. “I’m a pretty unpopular guy this morning.”

  “Talking to yourself, Clint?”

  He turned and smiled at Janie. She wore polyester pants, a loose top and rubber work boots. He smiled, remembering her fifteen years before, out in a storm trying to save one of her prize cows, which had been having difficulty giving birth. She’d pulled out the calf that had refused to exit the birth canal, and then she’d pushed on that mama cow until she got to her feet. She had saved them all, including Jenna and him.

  “Yeah, I guess I am.”

  “You’re going to have to stop trying to be such a hero.” Janie reached through and rubbed her hand along the floppy ear of the cow.

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “I mean that all of her life Willow has had people making decisions for her. This ranch was the one thing she did on her own. Now, more than ever, she needs to feel like she’s still in control.”

  “I’m helping.”

  “You were helping. But this accident and the test results changed things.” Janie’s eyes watered. “Oh, Clint, we don’t want to think of Willow going through something like this. But she’s facing it, and she’s determined. Don’t treat her any differently.”

  “I’m not.” He sighed. “I sure don’t mean to.”

  “Did you mean to fall in love with her?”

  He laughed at that. “Janie, one thing I’m not is in love. I’m here to help Willow for as long as she needs me. But I don’t have time for relationships. I’ve got two little boys to raise and a farm to rebuild.”

  Janie patted his arm, the way she’d been doing since he was a twelve-year-old kid, asking for odd jobs. “You’re a little too convinced you’re the only one who can take care of everyone, but you’ve got a good heart.”

  “It isn’t bad to take care of people that you care about.” The rumble of a truck coming down the drive sounded like an escape.

  “No, it isn’t bad, unless you are so busy taking care of everyone that you forget to let them into your life.” She glanced in the direction of the old, blue farm truck pulling up to the barn. “That’s old McKinney. I’m leaving before he can ask me to have coffee at the café.”

  “Maybe I’m not the only one so busy taking care of everyone that I forget to let people into my life.” He shot the comment at her retreating back.

  Janie turned, smiling. “I guess you learned it from me. Is that a good thing, Clint?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know, Janie. You’ve always seemed pretty content.”

  “Think about what I’ve said. I’m going to check on the boys. They’re playing out front. Willow went to get new hearing aids.
”

  “See you in a bit.”

  She continued on, her boots scuffing in the dusty dirt. Clint sighed and leaned his back against the fence. Janie, in her sixties and alone all of these years. He couldn’t remember one time that she ever went out with someone, other than her friends from church.

  He wondered if she ever got lonely. And if someday he would look back on his life, a life without someone to share it with, and regret. His entire life he’d spent taking care of Jenna and his dad, and later, the boys. And love had seemed like something that didn’t really last.

  James McKinney walked through the gate and headed in his direction. The old farmer’s eyes were on the cow, and he was nodding. Clint fought back a smile. James McKinney had more money than most banks. He actually owned part of a bank or two. But like so many of the older farmers, you couldn’t tell by looking at him. He drove a twenty-year-old truck that he didn’t see a need to replace. He lived in a house that hadn’t seen a new roof in thirty years and was still being heated with wood and cooled with fans.

  James McKinney was the old guard of farming, the guys who didn’t go into unnecessary debt and raised cows for meat, not show. He didn’t have no use, he would say, in pedigrees. He wanted a cow that would produce good calves.

  Until now. And Clint knew that girls changed everything. Even a crusty old farmer.

  “She looks good, Clint. Why’s Willow getting rid of her?”

  “She has to cull a few, James.”

  “You wouldn’t try to pull one over on an old guy, would you, Clint? Your daddy pulled a few good ones on me.” The older farmer laughed. “He sold me a horse one time, told me she was a champion of some kind. That horse was nothing but the champion of running her rider through barn doors.”

  “I remember that horse.” Clint smiled. “Sorry about that. And no, I don’t deal like my dad did.”

  “That’s good to know.” James walked around the cow, looking from all angles. “I hate to even admit this, but my granddaughter wants a cow to show in community fairs.”

  Clint nodded. He understood. A man would do strange things for a woman. “Well, things change, James. And I bet grandkids change a man even more.”

  “You wouldn’t believe it if I told you.” He scratched his chin and nodded, slow, thoughtful. “She looks like a good little heifer. Gentle, too.”

  “She likes most people.” Everyone but him.

  “You couldn’t get a better heifer for your granddaughter, James.” Willow’s voice. She walked toward them, smiling and dismissing Clint with a look. He backed away, because he knew that territorial look on her face. He’d seen barn cats like her, circling their territory, backs arched.

  “Will she lead?” James asked Clint. Clint looked at Willow. Nope, she wouldn’t lead, and she sure couldn’t be pushed.

  He wasn’t sure what to do, but Willow was looking at him, so he signed the other man’s inquiry because the questioning look on her face said she hadn’t heard.

  “Yes, she’ll lead,” Willow answered.

  James McKinney looked from Willow to Clint, as if he wasn’t sure which one of them he should be talking to. Clint pointed to Willow, it was her cow. He was just the unlucky guy that was trying to help.

  “Do you think she’d make a show cow?” James McKinney muttered and shook his head as he glanced over the heifer, his back to Willow. Clint signed the question and Willow adjusted the new hearing aids she had obviously gone to Grove to pick up.

  “She will, James.” Willow had a lead rope, and she walked through the gate and snapped it onto the halter the cow wore. “Stand aside, gentlemen.”

  She led the cow out of the pen and closed the gate behind her. She walked up to James McKinney and handed him the corded rope. “Take her home with you, James. I’m sure Clint already gave you a price.”

  Ouch. But she was right, he had given the farmer a price, the one Willow had quoted him earlier. He pretty much knew at that moment that he was in serious, very serious, trouble.

  Willow left Clint with James McKinney and walked across the lawn to the swing where the boys were sitting, the two of them together. They were always together.

  She shot a look in the direction of the barn and Clint saying goodbye to James McKinney. Ignoring him was the only way for her to take back her space. She’d lived through this before, with her parents, and with other men.

  She had wanted Clint to be different. She had wanted him to not be her dad, with a protective streak and that need to make decisions for her, as if she couldn’t. She had hoped he wouldn’t be the man that couldn’t handle her deafness.

  Her heart leaped to his defense. He had signed for her, allowing her to be included in the conversation with James.

  She pulled back on the ropes of the swing and gave the boys a little push. They looked back, smiling, but not laughing.

  Each week that passed, missing their mother got harder, not easier for them. With her trip to Austin canceled—thanks to her accident—they wouldn’t have to travel for a few weeks. They could all use a break and a little stability.

  She pushed the boys a little harder, a little higher. They were still quiet, still not themselves. She brought them back to earth, holding tight to the ropes until the swing came to a halt.

  “Do you guys want ice cream?” She moved to the front of the swing and squatted in front of them.

  They nodded, their little faces dirty and their hair sticking out in all directions. They needed a bath. Men didn’t notice those things.

  “Hey, I have an idea. Why don’t the two of you put on swim trunks, and we’ll turn on the hose. You can play in the water, cool off, and I’ll even get some soap for you to bubble up with.”

  They looked on board with her plan until she mentioned soap. But they needed it. She knew they’d been playing in the driveway, making miniature roads through the dirt and gravel for their toy cars.

  “Come on, ice cream and a shower in the garden hose.” She smiled, making it sound like a great idea.

  Timmy finally nodded and slid off the swing, a hand on David’s arm pulling the smaller twin along with him. “Come on, David, you’re starting to stink.”

  Willow smiled, because she knew Timmy had heard that from someone. Probably from Clint. The boys ran ahead of her, in a hurry for the ice cream, not the baths.

  “You boys need to find swim trunks for the hose.”

  They were running away from her, and if they answered, she didn’t hear them. But they would know where to find what they needed. While they got ready and picked ice cream, she’d drag out the hose.

  A shadow near the barn. Clint. He waved and walked back into the shadows. She saw him tug out his cell phone, and then a dark sedan pulled down the drive. Willow stopped to watch, her heart hurting as the men stepped out of the car and walked up to Clint.

  The boys were running into the garage where the extra freezer held the boxes of ice cream bars. She followed along at a slower pace. She laughed as she walked into the dark room, but she didn’t feel like laughing. The boys were stripping, and under their clothes they had on swim trunks.

  “You guys are ready to go?”

  “We wanted to go to the creek today,” Timmy explained. “Uncle Clint said he’d take us later.”

  “Okay, grab a fudge bar or ice cream sandwich. Oh, and there are orange Push-Ups.”

  The two of them were rummaging, looking for their favorites. Willow smiled as she walked out the back door. The hose was on a caddy. She pulled it loose and hooked it to the sprinkler. When the boys walked out, ice cream dripping down their chins, she was ready for them. She turned on the water and pointed.

  “There you go. Finish your ice cream and then jump in. I’ll get towels and soap.”

  “No soap!” David looked at her and said the words with a disgusted face that left no room for doubt.

  “Sweetie, you have to get clean.”

  “’Cause you stink.” Timmy was nodding, like he was the expert on stinking. “You smel
l worse than my dirty socks.”

  Pleasant. Willow wrinkled her nose at them. “Dirty socks is a bad smell, David. I’ll be right back.”

  She glanced at the barn as she walked through the garage. Clint was standing near the barn door, his hat in his hands and his face pointed away from her. The car was gone. The boys were laughing and jumping through the sprinkler. She wanted them to stay young and innocent. She didn’t want their hearts to be broken.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Clint watched the car drive away and then he looked across the drive to see Willow with the boys. He couldn’t go over there, not yet. The boys disappeared around the side of the house, carrying ice cream. Clint smiled at that, at the sight of them being little boys, and Willow being herself with them. He could hear the boys shouting something about cold and then squeals combined with laughter. Willow’s laughter melted with theirs.

  He wanted to laugh with them, to tell them everything would be okay. But he couldn’t. He headed their way. At the corner of the house he stopped and watched. They were running under the cold spray of the sprinkler. They had soap, and they would step out of the water, scrub and run back under the water. A creative way to get them clean. He wanted to smile, and he wanted to cry.

  Willow turned, smiling when she saw him. She was sitting in a lawn chair, blond and perfect, jean shorts and a T-shirt, her hair pulled back. He must have revealed something because her smile dissolved and she stood up. As she crossed the yard, slipping past the boys and the spray from the hose, he prayed for strength.

  He prayed that God would do something huge. He prayed his sister would come back home alive.

  That she would come back.

  His eyes burned and his chest felt tight.

  It all looked so normal. It looked like any other day. The boys were playing, splashing on a summer afternoon, with the blue Oklahoma sky a backdrop for their fun, and bees buzzing over the flowers on a nearby bush.

  How could it look like everything was okay, when it was anything but?