Her Rodeo Rancher

by M. K. Stelmack

  “It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay,” she murmured, hoping to calm him while inside she was fighting panic. He’d be fine, he was fine, his system was expelling any water, the kid was tough, a Claverley, after all.

  His coughing subsided, and Krista reached for a towel, wrapping him up. “There, aren’t you a brave boy?”

  His lip wobbled and he began to cry. Tears not so much of fright, but anger. “Go!”

  A new word. She didn’t blame him. She’d ruined his playtime, fed him breakfast cereal straight out of the box and nearly drowned him. His decision was sensible.

  She pulled the plug on the bathwater and gathered him into her arms. “Here, we’ll leave this scene and get you into jammies, and then we’ll take it from there.”

  Austin snapped. He screamed and kicked her thighs, drummed his fists on whatever part of her he could get at. “Go, go, go!”

  “Sorry, buddy, for wrecking your day, but let’s get through the next hour together, okay?”

  Austin’s howls were now full-throated, and she didn’t know if his eyes were red from the bubbles or his tears.

  Another text from Janet. We’ve a flat tire. We’ll be another hour.

  Ugh. She’d give Austin fifteen minutes to calm down, and then she’d call Will. Maybe the sound of his voice would break through to Austin. If that didn’t work, then she would beg and plead for him to come in. She’d drive out herself but there was no car seat available.

  Fifteen minutes later, with Austin still screaming out his lungs and naked because he didn’t want her anywhere near him, her message to Will went to voice mail.

  Anger spiked. He knew she was alone with Austin. Why couldn’t he pick up his phone? Help her out like she was helping him out? Or was there a reason he couldn’t pick up? Statistics about farm accidents flashed through her mind.

  No. She had no time to entertain morbid thoughts. Not with Austin aiming to bust her eardrum. Tears wouldn’t kill him. Unless—he didn’t usually have this soap, so was he having a massive allergic reaction? There would be other symptoms—a rash, difficulty breathing—which he clearly was not having. She checked his head to make sure he hadn’t bumped it when he’d gone under. Only sweaty from his performance.

  Not having Keith’s number, Krista called the only person she knew within reach that might get through to Austin. Dana picked up on the fourth ring.

  “As you are probably hearing, I’m with Austin and it’s not going well.”

  “What happened?” Dana’s voice was sharp, worried.

  Krista filled her in. “I was hoping that you might have a suggestion for how to get him to stop shrieking. I’m sure he’s physically fine, but apparently he’s inherited the Claverley fear of water.”

  “Put him on.”

  At the sound of Dana’s voice, Austin’s screams fell to body-shuddering heaves. “Dana,” he sighed.

  Krista overheard Dana talk nonsense about horses and tractors and strawberries. Austin’s shuddering eased off and he relaxed against Krista as Dana’s voice flowed into his ears.

  Then Krista withdrew the phone. Austin grabbed for it, his face contracting with distress. “Could you possibly talk to him for the next coupla hours?” Krista said, only half-joking.

  “Hang on, I’m coming over.”

  If possible, Austin’s cries were even louder during the ten minutes it took for Dana to pull up.

  “Dana, Dana, Dana,” Austin repeated in excitement and desperation. He flung himself into her embrace and wrapped his own little arms tight around her neck.

  “Oh, my guy,” Dana whispered and rested her cheek on his damp curls.

  Krista’s insides twisted. The two clearly loved each other. Yes, Keith hadn’t kept Dana from Austin, but neither had he made it easy for them to be together. And sadly, there was nothing Krista could do about it, either. Why wouldn’t Keith give him and Dana a chance?

  Still wrapped together, Dana moved to the easy chair in the living room. Krista switched to the role of personal assistant, fluttering to them with towel, blankie, diaper, jammies, a sippy cup of cold water. When the two were cozy together, Krista withdrew to the back deck to give them privacy.

  Alone, Krista checked her phone. Nothing from Janet or Will. She texted Mara. Babysitting was a nightmare. I’ll be home in an hour or two.

  Mara replied, Okay. She was probably enjoying the single life of a movie or music accompanied by alcohol. Krista settled into the deck chair, waving away whining mosquitoes, the quiet of the country thundering in her ears.

  And where was Will? Out on a tractor somewhere on the Claverley spread, completely unaware of her troubles with his nephew. She couldn’t blame him; she’d agreed to this experiment. But it was a failed one. Like her relationship with Will. A month together, and she could already see the cracks yawning between them, wide as a pasture, long as the distance between this ranch and her salon.

  I love you, Will, but this is not the life for me.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  IN THE DESCENDING DARK, Keith drove along the graveled road to the ranch, a few miles from ending his sixteen-hour day of breakdowns, missed delivery times and grumpy customers. He normally used the commute home as a chance to listen to music, blow off steam about work and divorce proceedings, and let plans for him and Austin trickle in. But right now, he was focused only on staying awake long enough to park his truck, whisper good-night to his sleeping boy and enter the same state of consciousness himself.

  Half a mile from the Claverley driveway, he saw Dana pull out, the headlights of her truck flashing toward him. Why was she over so late? Needed help with something? And now, like last time, she was leaving again before he could speak to her. No, last time she’d left because he hadn’t scrounged up the nerve to come to her. Not happening, tonight.

  He slowed to a stop on the road, the universal rural sign that he wanted to speak to the oncoming driver. She drew opposite him and he switched on his cab lights. She didn’t, but there was enough power from his to reach her. She looked exhausted, pale even through her tan.

  “Hey,” he said, “I almost missed you again.”

  She gave a wan smile. “It’s all good. He’s settled now.”

  Keith fumbled to connect the dots. “You were over for Austin?”

  “Krista was watching him tonight, and he pitched a tantrum that she couldn’t bring him out of.”

  What a crappy father he was. All along he’d assumed Will or his mother was with Austin, and here Krista had filled in. Austin hardly knew her. No wonder he’d wigged out. He rubbed his face. “I’m sorry, Dana. I—I didn’t realize.”

  “No worries. Dave and Janet only got home themselves, and I helped with the unloading.”

  “Right. The bull sale. They picked one up, then?”

  “Yep. Good shape. But—” She rolled her eyes. “They are actually talking about turning him out with the herd. See what happens.”

  Keith groaned. “Back to calving in May. Might as well be talking to a wall with them.”

  Dana gave a small, companionable laugh. She’d always done a lot of that with him, something he realized now that they’d not had a conversation in six weeks. Her right hand passed from the wheel to the gearshift. Ready to drive on.

  “Austin’s busting out a lot of words now,” he said quickly.

  She flickered a smile. “I noticed. I heard ‘cup’ and ‘tractor’ and ‘book.’” Her gaze drifted away to the windshield. “Also heard ‘Dana’ a few times.”

  When he hadn’t been able to summon up the courage to call her about what had happened at Caris’s wedding, he’d composed a text. “You’re always welcome over, you know.”

  She did. She’d just been here, after all. At Krista’s invitation, no less. “To see Austin,” he clarified.

  Except she knew that, too.

  She gave a tired smile. “I
have visitation rights?”

  “I didn’t mean it that way. Not exactly.” He pushed himself to say more. “Your name wasn’t his first word for no reason. You two are close. I don’t want to stand in the way of that.”

  She turned to him, her eyes full. “But you do,” she whispered. “You do.”

  Now he stared through the windshield. Her engine revved up as she shifted into Drive.

  “Listen, Dana,” he said. “Hold on. That night...what I said...it came out all wrong... I’m sorry.”

  She looked silently at him. The dim light from his cabin touched the soft slope of her cheek, caught the light red-brown glints in her hair. She was too far away to touch, so he’d somehow have to reach her with his words. Unrehearsed words. The same kind that had got him into this mess the first time.

  “Look, Dana. We’ve known each other since we were kids, and in my mind you’ve always belonged to Will. When he mentioned that he’d asked you to go out with him, it made perfect sense to me. I never even considered you and me together, until you brought it up. So yeah, you took me by surprise. And my knee-jerk reaction was to shut it all down. But I was wrong.”

  She shoved the gear back into Park.

  “When I thought about it, I started seeing all the advantages. Of how you and Austin love each other, and how I could help you really build up your place so you wouldn’t have to hire work out.”

  Her head dipped. He was losing her again. He spoke faster. “Will says you want four kids, and if you count Austin, we’re already up by one. And my divorce won’t go on forever, so after going over it in my mind, we actually might work out.”

  He waited. She lifted her head. Her pale cheeks were flushed. “Let me get this right,” she clipped out. “You’re saying we should get together for the sake of the farm and kids...as a partnership.”

  How had he angered her? He was offering her what she’d asked for. “I told you that I thought you could do better. I’m trying to say that I’ll work to be what you deserve.”

  She shook her head. “You still believe I’m settling. Don’t you see, settling in my mind would be dating Will. I passed him over because you were the one I wanted. I’ve had plenty of chances to ‘settle’ over the past few years, but I held out for you.”

  Him. Him alone. He could’ve had this gold. Instead he’d fallen for glitter.

  “But now I realize how incredibly stupid I’ve been,” she said. “Because I have standards, Keith. And I want to be with a guy who recognizes his own worth. I want to be with a guy who thinks of himself as highly as I think of him.”

  She didn’t wait for him to come up with words he didn’t have. She threw her truck into gear again and drove away into the darkness.

  * * *

  KRISTA DOCKED THE Claverley pickup with its wide hood and high suspension at the gate into the hayfield where Will was baling. At least, she assumed he was somewhere out there. She could only make out row after row of cut hay to where they wavered and then dipped behind a large hill. Had she screwed up Dave’s careful instructions? When she’d volunteered to take supper to Will, Dave had pulled out a stubby carpenter pencil and the back of a receipt from a farm supply store and drawn a map, complete with landmarks of a water trough and a rock pile.

  He’d also demonstrated how to open the gate. First insert the bottom post and then get behind that fence post and pull the top end of the fence post toward you. He took so long with her that she said, “I think it would’ve been quicker if you’d taken it out yourself.”

  He touched his hat. “I doubt it’s me he’s bent on seeing.”

  Krista didn’t know if Will wanted to see her, either. Especially since she intended to end their relationship. Yes, breaking up in a pasture over supper wasn’t classy, given that he’d invited her to come out to catch a little time together. But nothing had changed her mind in the last two days since the babysitting debacle, and she’d learned her lesson from the fallout with Phillip about delaying painful conversations.

  And this one would be painful. Her love for the quiet, obstinate, water-phobic rancher had sunk into her very marrow. She didn’t want to end things with him, as she had with Phillip. But neither could she see a way forward. And she bet he’d come to the same conclusion. That’s why he’d withdrawn from her ever since the day on the lake. That’s why he made this meetup so short and so mazelike. He probably hoped she wouldn’t show.

  And she hoped she was dead wrong.

  As soon as she swung from the truck, narrowly missing a plate-size cow patty, she heard what she assumed was the rumbling of Will’s tractor. Dave had said that he might be “working the corners” and “would take a bit to come around.” Rural language was peppered with these vague descriptors, odd for a people so down-to-earth. “Around about.” And the double negative from Dave when Janet had interrupted to ask if he wanted steak or roast tomorrow. Don’t matter none to me, hon. Credit to him, he’d thrown in a rhyme.

  Will’s outfit pulled into sight. She had never heard that term in relation to equipment before. The nose of the giant green tractor crested the hill, pulling a round machine which she took to be the baler. So, she’d made it to the right place.

  She waved but the sun was glaring off the tractor windshield, so she’d no idea if he’d seen her. He passed her, his back to her. Was he ignoring her? He stopped the tractor and dropped a bale from the machine like a chicken laying an egg. Oh. Cool.

  He turned off the tractor and crossed the stubbly field to her.

  Dusty and dirty, he looked great. As he approached, he held up his hands. “You pack wipes?”

  Not the romantic opening she’d expected, but then again this was Will. “On the passenger side of the truck,” she said. While he sanitized, she sized up a spot to set up their picnic. What could be more idyllic than a checkered cloth spread out on a field. Except the field was poky and dirty, and the pasture was pockmarked with gopher holes or cow patties.

  Will settled the matter. He opened the tailgate and swung the cooler and himself onto it. Of course. He gestured for her to join him.

  By the time she crossed to him, he was studying the contents of the cooler. He didn’t seem happy. After offering to bring him supper, she’d been seized by a sudden anxiety of what to make for him. Not owning a cookbook herself, she’d flipped through Mara’s shelf and then gone online. Mara had assured her that whatever Krista made, Will would love. But what kind of message was she sending by slaving over a meal that she was using as an excuse to break up with him? So she’d gone to the grocery store and picked up a bunch of dishes—fried chicken, potato salad, coleslaw, crabmeat salad, and yogurt topped with granola and berries. On a whim, she’d also grabbed jalapeño olives. All in their plastic take-out containers. But now she saw it through his eyes. A cooler full of random offerings because she had no idea what he liked and didn’t care to find out. Had he figured out her reasoning? She didn’t want him to know. Not yet.

  Krista hoisted herself onto the tailgate, the cooler between them. “I didn’t want to risk you getting sick on my cooking. I’m only good at salads. I figured you’d want more.”

  He nodded and took out the chicken, potato salad and—the olives. He flipped the lid inside up on his lap, opened the food and tucked in, using the plastic cutlery she’d only remembered when she was halfway out of the store. He tossed a couple of olives in his mouth like popcorn and indicated her empty lap. “You’re not eating?”

  “No, I—I’m not hungry.” She was. Starving. Except it didn’t seem right to break it off with him between mouthfuls. “Besides, I forgot to pack extra cutlery. Silly me.”

  He nudged the olives closer. “Don’t need anything for these.”

  She plucked out one and popped it in, the hot pepper tingling her mouth. “I took a chance on these. I didn’t know if you’d like them.”

  “Like jalapeños, like olives. Never had them together
before.” He squinted at her. “Not your thing?”

  “If I enjoyed swallowing fire, it would be.”

  “You want a bit of the potato salad to take away the sting? We can share forks.”

  That seemed far too intimate, considering what she really shouldn’t put off saying. She caught him discreetly flexing his right arm.

  “Your shoulder’s acting up,” she said.

  “Bit of a kink from turning to watch the baler,” he said. “Don’t worry, no lifting. That’s all she said I shouldn’t do.”

  Krista started. “Who’s ‘she’?”

  Guilt crossed his face, and he dipped his head to the potato salad. “The physiotherapist.”

  “You said you’ve been in the field the past week. When did you have time to see her?”

  He kept his head down. “It was before then. I can’t remember.”

  Anger prickled in her gut, hotter than any stupid jalapeño. “You deliberately didn’t tell me.”

  “Because you would get all worked up.”

  “Sorry for caring.” She did, too, desperately. This was not going to be easy.

  He set down his salad and touched his finger to her bare knee. She shifted away. “Listen, Krista. The physio warned me not to lift too much. That’s all, I swear.”

  “How much is ‘too much’?”

  “Anything where I start feeling it.”

  “Will! You were ‘feeling it’ two days ago when you were carrying Austin. I noticed you wince. How much does he weigh? Thirty pounds? Is that why you tried to get out of babysitting the other night? Because you were worried you might have to lift him and tear your shoulder more?”

  “I left because I figured you could handle things for a while. Apparently, I was wrong.”

  They’d not discussed the events of that night, though she was pretty sure that the Claverleys had probably all taken a vow on the family bible never to leave her alone with Austin or any Claverley minor ever again. Not that there’d likely be another chance after she and Will finished with each other.