"Go back to the truck," Beau called out as he headed back down the embankment.
"You may need my help."
"Stubborn woman," he said, laughing as he shook his head.
The cow didn't like them getting too close to her baby. That much was evident by the way she stomped her hooves and paced around them mooing her protest. The calf, who had to have been born mere hours ago, was barely able to get his footing in the mud. Mandy wasn't doing much better. All the while, the momma cow was mooing loud and eyeing Beau as he eased the calf into his arms.
As Beau started up the embankment, he hit a flow of mud and started sliding backward.
"Hold on to her, Beau."
The look on Beau's face was truly hilarious as he struggled to keep his balance, hold on to an agitated calf, and avoid coming in contact with a more than distraught mother cow as he inched up the small incline.
"Do you need me to help?"
"I got her," he called out. "She's a good kicker. You might get hurt. Just keep an eye on her momma. She's not looking too happy right now."
Mandy couldn't help but laugh. Beau's cowboy hat was tilted to one side, giving his face no protection from the pouring rain. The calf was calling out to her momma. The cow looked ready to charge on Beau, if only she could make it up the hill without sliding back down.
As they made it to the road, the calf's agitation grew and she began kicking furiously. Beau held on tight, but in an effort not to drop the calf, he ended up stepping right out of his boots and landing on his back in the mud, cradling the calf on his chest. His hat had fallen off behind him in the mud and was now face up collecting rain.
"She's okay now," Mandy said, trying to stifle a laugh.
Beau released the calf. Immediately it went in search of its mother who had finally made it up to the road. The cow let out a long moo.
"You're welcome," Beau called out, glaring at the cow, who was still perturbed at him even though her calf was now out of danger and strutting slowly back to her.
Mandy held her wet hand to her lips to hide the smile she couldn't control.
"Stupid cow," Beau muttered, looking around himself for his hat.
It had been raining steadily, but now another wave of heavy rain came down on them. Beau emptied his hat of rainwater and propped it on his head, all the while continuing to search the area around him.
"Where are my boots?!" he barked out.
Unable to contain herself any longer, Mandy busted out laughing, doubling over.
"I'm glad you think this is so funny. Those are my favorite boots," Beau said, laughing himself. He was positively covered with mud when he stood up in his stocking feet. He grabbed his boots, which were soaked and mud-stained, and stood staring. His devilish grin made her pause.
"What is spinning in that head of yours, Beau Gentry?" she said in what she hoped was warning enough to keep him from doing what she thought he was about to.
"You're too clean."
"No, I'm very dirty. Remember, I lost my boot in the mud, too. I'm very wet and very dirty."
She started backing up slowly, then faster when lack of footwear did nothing to slow down Beau's stride.
"You need a little more mud, Mandy."
"You wouldn't dare."
"You know I would." And he did. Before she could spin on her heels and race back to the truck, Beau picked up a handful of mud and catching up to her, he smeared it on her. Then retreated before she could reach him and counter the attack. The glob of muck oozed down the right side of her hat, tilting it so half the mud dripped down her ear and neck.
"You dirty rat!" she said, laughing until she couldn't tell if the tears on her face were from laughter or rain.
Bending down she quickly tried to toss a ball of mud in his direction as she rounded the side of the truck, hoping to gain some cover. It landed pitifully on the hood of the truck.
It was one thing to fling mud on the outside of the truck, but she was sure Beau would take pains not to muddy her inside the cab. Dripping with mud and wet to the bone, she yanked open the passenger side door and crawled in. The second after she slammed the door shut, Beau climbed into the driver's seat and slammed the door. Both of them laughing so hard Mandy's sides hurt.
"Look at my boots," he said, muttering as he dropped them on the floor.
It was too much for her to take. Rain was dripping down his face, dragging strands of hair into his eyes and matting it against his face. A drop of water made a slow trail down the corner of his eye, down his cheek and rested just to the side of his chiseled chin next to a smudge of mud. Mandy had the unbelievable urge to touch him there, kiss that drop of water from his face.
She wanted to bury herself in his arms, lose herself in his kisses and feel her heart collide with his.
Instead, she stared at him, at the drop of water on his face, at his slightly parted lips and the way his chest rose and fell with each breath he dragged in. Mud and all, he was incredibly handsome. She wanted to reach across the cab of the truck, which suddenly seemed way too big and much too small for anything she had in mind.
"Are you okay," he said. His voice was low and smooth as a calm pond on a breezeless day. And he was staring back at her with the same intensity she felt inside herself.
"Yes."
"You sure about that?"
No, she wasn't okay. What she was feeling right now was a raging storm of emotion that would surely lead her back to heartbreak.
"What I said before about there being others."
Beau's expression grew tight. "It doesn't matter," he said, leaning across the space between them and placing his hand on her cheek, gently brushing it. His fingers felt gritty, but his touch turned her knees to jelly and sent shock waves through her whole body.
"Yes, it does," she said quietly, her mouth suddenly bone-dry. She wanted to lean into his touch, kiss his palm. Instead, she just enjoyed the new feelings his touch evoked.
He smiled, slow and sexy, and her heart did a flip.
"I guess I got a little carried away. You have mud on your face. In your hair," he whispered.
He tipped her hat off her head with his other hand and tossed it to the floorboards. All the while, he kept his hand on her cheek, brushing the gritty wet dirt.
"I'm making it worse."
Shaking her head slightly, she said, "No, you're not."
"I shouldn't be touching you this way."
He started to pull his hand away, but Mandy held it in place against her cheek.
His eyes were dark and filled with longing. "Mandy, I want to kiss you."
"Then kiss me," she whispered back.
She let herself go with the flow. She met him half way, draping her arms around his shoulders. There was no room for indecision. She wanted Beau and by the way his mouth savagely came over hers, the way he dug his fingers into her matted hair until it tumbled down to her shoulders, and cradled her body against his, he wanted her too.
She opened up to him, not sure she'd ever be able to get enough of what he had to give. Not sure if there'd ever be enough hours in a day or days in a lifetime to know all there was to know about Beau Gentry.
She wanted to be with him. Much as she'd hated it, she'd been drawn to Beau like a magnet ever since she'd stepped foot off that plane. It felt amazingly good to feel and admit it to herself after all this time. It was better to feel it and be there in his arms.
The charging rain against the roof of the truck just barely drowned out her soft moan and the rampant beating of her heart. Mandy clung to Beau, to his rain sodden clothes, feeling his hard body against hers, feeling the strength of his arms as he pulled her against his chest, setting her soul on fire.
It wouldn't last forever. She knew that. But for this moment she'd make it last, savor every bit of Beau's kiss for as long as she could.
The sound of a horn blaring in the distance slowly cut through the charge of the rain. Beau pulled away from her and looked into her eyes. She knew that look. It had haunted
her endlessly with its memory. But before she could kiss Beau again, the noise in the distance grew louder until it was impossible to ignore.
"What are they doing up here?" Beau released Mandy, grabbing his boots and quickly slipping into them.
It could only mean one thing, but Mandy wasn't ready to face it. Fighting her fear, she quickly threw open the door and stepped out into the rain.
Mitch's truck stopped about a hundred yards away. He ran through the mud-bogged road until he was half way to Beau's truck.
"I'm glad I caught up with you."
"What is it?" Beau asked.
Mitch could hardly catch his breath. He didn't have to utter a word for Mandy to know what he was about to say. His face said it all.
"It's Hank. He's collapsed."
# # #
Chapter Eight
For the first time that day, Beau questioned taking Mandy away from the ranch. Oh, Lord, if anything happened to Hank while they were gone. He'd never forgive himself.
"We're never going to get the truck through this mud without some help," Beau said.
"I have a winch if you get stuck, but it'll take too long. Leave the truck and drive back with me."
They quickly walked the distance to Mitch's pickup and climbed inside. Mandy sat in the middle between him and Mitch, forced into tight quarters, but already Beau felt the difference between them. She was snug up against him, leaning against his body. Beau had to admit he liked this change of heart, and hoped it wasn't just out of fear for what might be with Hank.
She needed comfort to keep her fear at bay and he was going to give it to her. Wrapping his arm around her shoulder, he pulled her to him so she was resting against his side. He realized immediately that he needed her comfort as much as she needed his.
As Mitch's truck bounced back down the road toward the ranch, Mandy's eyes drifted up to meet his. It nearly broke his heart. She seemed...shattered.
He did the only thing he could. He bent his head and pressed his lips against her forehead. "You talk to him," Beau said softly. "He'll listen to you. You're the only one he'll listen to."
Mandy nodded her head weakly.
It seemed to take forever to reach the ranch house. The sun was sinking below the trees when Mitch's truck finally pulled out front. Knowing the doctors would take measures to operate, Hank insisted on staying home instead of going to the hospital at Corrine's pleas. The paramedics stabilized him as best they could while Corrine had called his doctor. He was just stepping off the porch when they climbed out of the truck.
"He's comfortable," Corrine said. It had taken its toll on her, Beau could tell. In the time they'd been gone she looked as if she'd aged ten years.
"I want to see him," Mandy said on a sob.
"He needs to rest," Dr. Cookman said. "Don't upset him. Right now his heart is like a timebomb. Just let him rest and I'll check on him in the morning." He turned to Corrine and reaching out, he squeezed her hand. "You have my direct number. You call me if you need to. I don't care what time it is."
"I will. Thank you so much Rich."
His heart is like a timebomb.
Beau's ears were still ringing with Dr. Cookman's words when he left Hank's room later that evening. If Mandy couldn't convince Hank to have the surgery, he was going to lose his friend, a good man who had been like a father to him.
And Mandy would lose so much more.
* * *
The house had grown quiet now that all the hands were back at the bunkhouse.
"Let me help you with the dishes, Aunt Corrine," Mandy said. She needed something to do, something to keep her busy. But she suspected her aunt needed it more.
She came up from behind and wrapped her arms around her aunt and felt her shoulders shudder. After a few moments, Corrine sobbed, "When I was lying in bed with him earlier I thought, 'Lord, how many more times am I going to be able to have him here in my arms like this?' I thought we were going to lose him today for sure."
"I know. I should have been here."
"No, you can't stop your life just because he's being so stubborn. None of us can."
"I wish..."
"What, doll?"
She slumped down into a kitchen chair and mindlessly twirled an empty glass between her fingers. "I should have come more often."
"Oh, don't go there again. You have a life of your own. No one expects you to give it up."
Mandy chuckled wryly. "I wish my mother would say that."
Her aunt looked down at the soapsuds and stilled. "I didn't want to call your mother and tell her about Hank. In fact, he asked me not to. Was quite cross with me for doing it."
Mandy closed her eyes and shook her head. "He's such a..." She paused, searching for the right word. Then looking up at her aunt, they both said in tandem, "cowboy."
"I'm glad you made that call. Otherwise, I may have never known until it was too late. For that I'm sorry. Some niece I turned out to be."
"You're wonderful for him. We both love you so very much."
"Can I ask you something personal?"
"Anything."
"How come you and Uncle Hank never had children? You'd both make wonderful parents."
Corrine didn't answer right away and immediately Mandy wondered if it were too painful a subject for her aunt. Her hands stilled in the dishwater.
"I would have loved to have had a child with Hank," she said quietly. "It wasn't in God's plan, I guess."
"You could have adopted. I can just see Hank and a string of young cowboys out in the barnyard. He was always so great with me, always encouraged me and made me feel like I could do anything. You'd make a terrific mother, too. I remember so many nights when I first came to the Double T I'd cry myself to sleep and you always stayed by my side. You and Hank are like a second set of parents to me."
Corrine was quiet and Mandy was afraid she'd hurt her aunt’s feelings. But then she turned and smiled at Mandy, her eyes filled with tears.
"We didn't need to adopt a child. We were blessed with you."
Mandy swallowed the lump in her throat. She was well loved by the people in her life. How many people could say that? And yet, she thought back to what Beau had asked her over again about being happy. Was she?
"And you both were happy?"
"We have each other. You could drive yourself crazy with what-would-have-beens if you let it get to you. But yes, I've always been happy. And I think up until lately Hank's been happy, too."
Mandy pushed herself out of her chair. "I don't doubt it. If Uncle Hank doesn't care about himself, he can't be happy about what this is doing to everyone else."
Her aunt's shoulders slumped. "He has his reasons, not that I agree with him. But they are his own."
"Why don't you tell me what they are?"
Corrine turned to her, unshed tears still clinging to her eyelids. "You need to ask him that yourself, doll. Only he can tell you."
Mandy picked up a dishtowel and started wiping one of the dishes her aunt set to dry in the wrack. Her aunt quickly stilled her hand.
"Please leave them. I need some busy work to do and if I don't have any to keep me occupied, I'll go crazy. As it is, I'll probably be tearing at this house until morning sun."
"Okay," Mandy said, understanding. "I'm going to check on Uncle Hank before I turn in."
She kissed her Aunt's cheek and left the kitchen, listening to her heart beating and the loud thrum of blood rushing through her veins. As she crossed the living room to the stairway, she paused and angled back to the fireplace mantle where the pictures of her and Uncle Hank and Aunt Corrine were carefully placed.
Walking over to the mantel, she chose the picture of her sitting on her uncle's lap when they visited his mother on the reservation. The day she'd met Alice's daughter Sara. There was something about that picture that had given her pause when she'd seen it the other day. If she looked at it quick enough...
We didn't need to adopt. We were blessed with you.
With trembling h
ands, she took the picture from the mantel and stared at it again. Then she climbed the stairs to the second floor. When she reached Hank's bedroom, she knocked lightly on the door.
"Are you up for company?" she asked when she poked her head in.
"Always for you," Hank said, lifting his arm up in invitation for her to join him on the bed. He was sitting up, his face ghostly white and his breathing better now that he'd had a little rest. The doctor said it would get better as long as he didn't overdo it.
"I need you, you big ninny," she said, tears blurring her vision. She settled into his arms, resting her head on his broad shoulders like she used to when she was a young girl. He enfolded her in his arms and gave her a squeeze. He always gave her the hugs she craved, always made her feel accepted, gave his approval willingly, endlessly. She had the feeling she could do no wrong in her uncle's eyes.
"You don't need me, darlin'. You're all grown up and taking the world by the ears and making them listen to you now. You've got your momma’s brains."
Her eyes fell to the photo in her hand. And my grandmother's eyes. She gazed up at Hank and saw the first time with the eyes of a woman what she would never see-- could never see--as a child.
She swallowed hard before daring to speak, felt her bottom lip tremble. But it was too important to ignore. "How come you never told me you're my real father?" she asked, her voice low and thick with emotion.
She took a deep breath and waited with trepidation for his reply.
Hank's arm tightened just a fraction around her and his body tensed. His eyes suddenly filled with moisture and she saw what looked to her like regret. "How..."
Her voice was shaky when she spoke and she fought mightily to keep it steady. "I guess it's always been there. Mom and Dad fighting endlessly, always just before I came to Texas. You and Aunt Corrine were supposed to be such good family friends except you and my parents never spend any time together, only when it has to do with me. All the clues were there when I was growing up, except if you aren't looking for something, you won't find it. And if you don't want to see it, you'll just push any evidence of it aside."
Her Heart for the Asking Page 8
