Jenna's Cowboy Hero

by Brenda Minton

  “You’re doing great.” Jenna shot him a look that he ignored.

  “We should probably head for the kitchen.” Mrs. Glenn was ahead of them, nearly to the door. “I have sugar issues. I need to eat every three hours.”

  “Of course, I’d forgotten.” Jenna smiled. “We’re heading that way, too.”

  But slower than Mrs. Glenn, Adam realized. Mrs. Glenn obviously needed to eat soon. He watched as she hightailed it across the newly mowed lawn, in the direction of the metal building that housed the kitchen.

  He liked the layout of the camp. There was a central yard. On the west side of the lawn was the barn and corral, east was the kitchen, south was the dorm. Behind the dorm an open-air chapel had been built.

  Horses grazed in the fields, tails swishing to brush away the flies. He’d forgotten what it was like here, in Oklahoma. He’d forgotten the rolling fields, the smell of freshly mowed hay. He’d forgotten the way the setting sun touched the horizon and turned everything gold in the evenings.

  It didn’t matter, though, because he wasn’t staying.

  “The beds are being put together and the bathrooms are clean.” Jenna offered the progress report as they crossed the lawn. He’d forgotten the sweetness of a country girl on a summer afternoon. “Willow brought the boys by. She has to take the baby to the pediatrician.”

  “Is the baby sick?”

  “Not really, just a cough. But Willow’s a first-time parent and she’s a little worried. She lost her hearing from meningitis.”

  “That happens?”

  “Not often, but it can.” She limped next to him, and he wasn’t thinking about Willow, but about the woman at his side. And he knew she wouldn’t want to discuss what was happening with her. He knew, because he thought they might be a lot alike.

  He touched her hand, by accident, and her fingers brushed his, but then moved away, almost as if she had considered holding his hand and wouldn’t. And she shouldn’t, not if she wanted to protect her heart. He knew that as well as anyone.

  The aroma wafting from the open windows of the kitchen were a welcome distraction. He opened the door and motioned Jenna inside.

  “Where are the boys?” He glanced around the open room with the long tables and the open kitchen area with a counter full of warmers and steaming food. He had expected sandwiches today, not a buffet.

  “They ate with Willow. She took them to town for pizza. But they also had half a peanut butter sandwich a little while ago. Now they’re outside, playing.”

  “Oh, so are they okay outside?”

  She pointed out the window. The boys were playing in the yard with trucks, obviously okay. “We can see them from here. If they leave that spot, we’ll worry.”

  At that age, he wouldn’t have stayed in one spot. He kind of figured the twins wouldn’t be there for long. It wasn’t his business, though. He grabbed a tray and followed the woman whose business it was.

  “Stop looking out the window.” She had her back to him, so how did she know? She turned and smiled. “I can almost feel you tensing up back there, wondering what they’ll get into. They’re almost six, they’re old enough to play in the yard, especially since we’re right here, watching them.”

  “I know that.”

  “You’re going to be a nervous wreck by the time this camp is over.”

  “Which is why I should just sign it over to the church and be done with it.” He plopped potatoes on his plate and drenched them with gravy.

  “That would be the easy way out, wouldn’t it?”

  Of course it would. Watching her, he wondered if she had ever opted for the easy way.

  “Yes, it would be,” he admitted, and followed her to a table that was already crowded. He wanted a corner booth and no one staring. He wasn’t going to get that either. From across the table she smiled at him.

  He glanced out the window, at the boys.

  Jenna tapped his hand. “They’re still there.”

  “Yes, they are.” He cut his meat loaf and dipped it in gravy. “This is good.”

  “Vera’s secret recipe. Don’t ask what she puts in it. She doesn’t mind sharing the packets of seasoning she makes up, but she won’t tell you what’s in it.”

  “No MSG, right?”

  She looked up and shook her head. “You’re a mess. Just eat.”

  He ate a few more bites, and then glanced out the window again. Jenna followed his look and her eyes widened.

  “They’re gone,” he announced, standing as she stood. “I’ll go check on them.”

  “I can do it.” She headed for the door and he followed.

  The boys were nowhere to be seen. They couldn’t have disappeared that fast. Adam left Jenna standing in the yard and hurried toward the stable and the horses. That’s when he saw them.

  “They’re on the pony.” Jenna had seen them at the same time and her anxious shout didn’t help to calm his nerves. She was the one who didn’t let things bother her.

  But bothered was a good way to feel when he knew the boys were in serious trouble. They were on a spotted pony, bareback and with nothing but a rope around the animal’s neck. How in the world had they managed to get in this much trouble, this quick?

  And they didn’t even seem to know the trouble they were in. They had sticks and were obviously fast on the trail of bad guys, the little horse obliging them by picking up his legs in a fast trot. The boys were bouncing and holding tight with sun-browned legs wrapped around the pony’s round little belly.

  “Timmy! David!” Jenna had caught up with him, her chest heaving a little with the exertion. “Stop that pony now!”

  The boys waved.

  “They’re going to get thrown.” Adam couldn’t help but growl the words.

  “They’re not.” But she didn’t sound as positive as he would have liked. “Let’s walk slowly and not scare the pony. The boys know how to ride, they’ll be okay.”

  Walk slowly, don’t run and grab the boys off the pony. He wanted to take her advice, but he couldn’t. “I’m sorry, I’ve got to get them off her.”

  The boys were ripping across the lawn on the horse. Jenna grabbed his arm. “Okay, go get them, but be careful not to spook the pony.”

  The boys were bouncing along on the back of the pony. The door to the kitchen had opened and Adam knew they had an audience. Pastor Todd and the church members who were still there had joined Jenna.

  Adam walked fast, toward the pony and the boys. The little pony stopped and ducked her head to pull at a bite of red clover. As soon as she had it in her mouth, she took off again. Adam was starting to think she was in on the orneriness. She wasn’t a victim of those boys, she was the coconspirator.

  “Lady Bug, here, come here.” He didn’t shout, but the name got the attention of the spotted pony. She flicked her ears and looked at him, but then her ears went back. “Guys, pull back on your rope and stop her.”

  The twins nodded, but they didn’t look convinced. They smiled at him as if they were having the time of their lives. And he had to wonder if he wouldn’t have felt the same way. A smile and then a chuckle sneaked up on him. It was harder to be stern the next time he called out to them.

  “Come on, when she stops again, you guys climb off. You’re scaring your mom.” And ten years off his life.

  David glanced over his shoulder and made eye contact with Adam. The kid looked a little worried. Either he didn’t want to get in trouble, or he was afraid of getting thrown. His blond hair was tousled and his little face was smudged with dirt and peanut butter. Adam was nearly close enough to grab the pony.

  And then she lunged, Timmy encouraging her with a foot tap to her side. Adam ran, because this was no longer a game. He caught up with the little mare just short of a stand of cedars with low limbs that would brush the boys off if the pony decided to keep going. Rather than grabbing her, he grabbed the twins off her back.

  They hugged his neck and he took a deep breath. Man, he was out of shape, or maybe it was fear. H
is lungs heaved for oxygen and his heart raced. He hugged the boys, one on each hip, and turned back in the direction they’d come. He could see Jenna standing with Pastor Todd, saw her hands come together and then cover her face.

  One of the other men headed in the direction of the pony, a bucket of grain in his hand.

  “You boys shouldn’t do that to your mom. From now on, if you want to ride, you ask. You don’t get on a horse without permission. You could get hurt doing that.”

  “I told you so,” David muttered and glared, gray eyes narrowed at Timmy.

  “You’re always a chicken.”

  “Buddy, doing the right thing doesn’t make a guy a chicken.” Adam put the boys down and took them by the hand to finish the walk. Timmy tried to get loose. Adam kept hold of his little hand.

  And Jenna was walking toward them, looking like he might be her favorite person in the world—for the moment. She didn’t know him that well, and he planned on keeping it that way. Let her think he was a hero, not a jaded athlete who wouldn’t stay long enough for her to really get to know him.

  “I’m taking the two of you home. Adam, I hate to leave, but you have plenty of help and these guys are going to be spending time in their room, not playing.”

  “I understand. Do you need help getting them in the truck?”

  She shook her head. “I can manage. Besides, I think that’s Jess driving down the road. Probably with more complaints about the camp.”

  He thought she was probably right, but as she walked away, Jess wasn’t on his mind. She was.

  “Bologna sandwiches for supper tonight, guys.” Jenna walked through the back door and the boys looked up. They were sitting at the kitchen table, looking at books, because she wouldn’t let them play.

  For the last two hours, since she’d left the camp with them, they’d been confined to the house and only allowed to do what she approved. While she’d gone out to feed her horses, the selected activity had been looking at books.

  Her poor horses. Monday she really had to stay at home and do some work with them. She had a gelding that she needed to sell at the end of the month. He was nearly ready to be used in reigning competitions.

  “Bologna sandwiches?” Timmy wrinkled his nose at her dinner suggestion and brought her mind back to the kitchen and her dinner preparations. “Can I have cheese and crackers?”

  “You can. And grapes.” At least if they ate grapes she’d feel like they were eating something healthy.

  David wrinkled his nose when she said grapes. She sighed.

  “What is it, buddy?”

  “Do I have to eat grapes?”

  “Carrots?” she offered as she poured herself a glass of tea. “Or an apple.”

  He bit down on his bottom lip and stared at the floor. When he looked up, his eyes were watery. “There aren’t any apples.”

  “I had a whole bag.” She really needed to sit down. Pain was shooting up her leg, biting sharp, and her back ached.

  “I kinda fed them to Charlie.”

  Jenna sat down. “Kinda? You fed them to your horse? All of them?”

  He nodded. “He liked ’em a lot.”

  “Oh, David, honey, we need to check and make sure you didn’t make him sick. You guys go clean up before we eat and I’ll check on Charlie.”

  “Sorry, Mom.” David kissed her cheek. “I can check on him.”

  She hugged him and she didn’t sigh. “It’s okay. I’ll check on him.”

  He sounded so big, and she knew someday he would be a good man. She was raising good men. It meant everything to her. Protecting them meant everything. They had been left by too many people. They had almost lost her.

  She tried to block the image of that moment earlier in the day when Adam had held both of her boys, and they had clung to him. He would leave them. After the camp was off the ground and running, he would go back to his life. The life that was so far removed from theirs, she couldn’t imagine all of the differences. Once he returned, he would never think of them again.

  Not that he needed to think of her. He was a blip on the radar screen of her life. She had two main priorities: Timmy and David. She had watched them cry when their dad left after his last visit, telling her he would send child support, but his life wasn’t about her or the boys.

  They hadn’t seen him for three years. He was remarried, living in California. Someday she knew they’d want to know him. Maybe someday he’d want to see them again.

  Six months ago she had seen the confusion on their faces when they asked about Jeff, the man she’d planned to marry. She’d had to explain that he wasn’t going to be seeing them anymore.

  Her life, her recovery, was too much reality for a guy that wanted to stay young a little while longer. Sometimes she wished she could have stayed young longer. There were days that she felt twenty years older than her twenty-seven years. She felt like she’d lived a lifetime in the last seven of those years.

  She remembered what it was like to feel pretty. She hadn’t felt pretty in a long, long time. She couldn’t remember getting dressed up for a date, or the way it felt to put on something other than flat-heeled cowboy boots or tennis shoes.

  But she didn’t have time to feel sorry for herself.

  “Be right back, guys.” She stopped at the door and looked back at them. They were on a stool at the sink, washing their hands. “Don’t get into anything.”

  Wishful thinking on her part.

  Chapter Eight

  “Jenna, are you out here?” Adam walked into the barn, peering into the dark shadows. He’d been in the house for five minutes, waiting for her to come in, to feed the boys.

  “Jen?”

  “Jenna. No one calls me Jen but Clint.” She was sitting outside a stall, looking inside the darkened cubicle. He peeked around the corner of the gate and saw the pony, bloated belly and head hanging.

  “What’s up?” He leaned against the post, looking at her, and then at the pony. They both—her and the pony—looked pretty miserable. He knew enough about women to know that the word miserable wasn’t one that she wanted attached to her appearance.

  “David fed his pony a bag of apples. I think Charlie is going to be okay, but I wanted to make sure. He’s pretty uncomfortable, the little pig.”

  “How about you? You okay?”

  She looked up, eyes dark, shadowy. Her nose was pink and her face was a little puffy. He wouldn’t ask. He didn’t want to go there. He had a rule about women, nothing personal. Go out to dinner, take a walk in the park, go to a show, but never ask personal questions.

  Too late, he realized that his question was personal. He hadn’t asked about her tears, but he’d gone far enough. Her eyes watered a little and she shrugged. But then she didn’t answer.

  “I’m fine, just a little tired.”

  “That’s my fault.” He reached for a bucket and turned it over to use it as a seat.

  “Not really. I’ve just been pushing myself a little too much lately.”

  “The boys told me they’re having bologna sandwiches for supper.”

  “Tattletales.” She smiled.

  “Yeah, I called from town.” He took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair. It was getting shaggy. “I brought food from The Mad Cow.”

  “You didn’t have to do that. Bologna sandwiches won’t hurt them.”

  “Too late, it’s done. So why don’t we go inside and eat before the food gets cold. I can come back out before I leave.”

  “Okay.” She stood, wobbling a little. She reached for the gate and held it a minute before pushing it closed.

  Her first step was tentative, and he didn’t know what to do, or how to offer help.

  “You going to make it to the house?”

  “Of course I am.” She took another step, this one looking more painful than the last. A single tear trickled down her cheek but she looked up at him, smiling. “It might take a while.”

  “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  “Where are you
…”

  “Right back.”

  He jogged to the house and found what he was looking for in a corner of the laundry room. When he returned, she was sitting on the stool. Charlie was still moping in a corner of the stall.

  Adam opened the wheelchair and pointed. She glanced up, her cheeks pink.

  “I assume this is yours?” He waited, holding the handles. “Come on, I’m a football player, I know how to drive one of these.”

  “I know.” She sniffed a little as she stood up. “I want this in my past, not here, today.”

  “I could carry you.” He winked, and she smiled a little, another tear trickling down her cheek. Tears were not his thing, especially soft tears that someone fought, trying to be strong. Hers weren’t the wailing, I-want-my-way kind of tears. Hers were about being strong, but feeling weak.

  And he didn’t have a handkerchief.

  “No, I think I can do without you carrying me.” She moved to the seat and hunched forward a little. And he didn’t want her to feel weak. “This isn’t the past, is it? It’s my life. One moment and everything changed forever.”

  He pushed her out of the barn. The sun was setting and the sky was pink. The trees were dark green silhouettes against the twilight sky. He maneuvered over rough ground, big rocks and clumps of grass.

  “Moments do that to us.” He pushed the chair over a rut. “Moments can change everything. That’s life. A moment and my cousin was gone and I’m here. I know that isn’t a moment on a dusty road in Iraq, but it’s the moment that brought me home.”

  “With me,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, that isn’t what I meant. I’m just saying, this probably isn’t where you expected to be, either. If you weren’t here, where would you be tonight?”

  “Saturday night in Atlanta?” He laughed because he didn’t want to answer. “Probably not somewhere I’d be proud of.”

  “Life has taken you a long way from Oklahoma, hasn’t it?”

  “Life does that. This wasn’t what I wanted—this land, the farms, the country. I worked my entire life to be where I am, doing what I’ve done, going where I’m going in my career.”