by Leigh Duncan
Hank chewed the inside of his cheek. His daughter had probably learned to ride English-style at her school. Western-style riding was easier, but it might take her a little while to adjust.
“So, here’s what we’re gonna do. Today is just practice. I’m going to have you ride around in the ring. Walk first. Then trot. Maybe take a low jump or two. We’ll see how you handle yourself. Once you show me you know what you’re doing, we’ll go for a trail ride after school one day this week.”
“Don’t worry, Dad. I got this.” Noelle split the reins. Her elbows tucked in at her sides, her hands low against Belle’s neck, she attempted to pull the horse’s head down, while at the same time urging it forward.
The well-mannered mare pawed the ground, but remained in place.
“Ugh!” Noelle expelled a frustrated breath. “What’s wrong with her? Why won’t she do what I want?”
“Relax,” Hank coached. He eased the thin leather strands from his daughter’s tight grip and threaded them through one palm. “Riding Western’s a bit different from what you’re used to, that’s all. When you pull her chin down the way you’re doing, she thinks you want her to back up. Hold the reins looselike. In one hand. We’re usually working cattle and want to keep our strongest hand free for our rope. Or sometimes our hat.” He swept his from his head and brushed it against his leg with a teasing “Get along, Little Doggies.”
Noelle barely smiled when Belle shook her head and blew air. “My riding instructor says everyone should ride English,” she insisted. “I’m very good at it.”
“I’m sure you are,” Hank said, as agreeably as he could. “And that’s fine for an afternoon ride. But cowboys are on horseback from sunup to sundown, so our saddle has to be comfortable—for us and for the horse.” He tapped Noelle’s saddle. “This one’s longer and wider to spread the weight more evenly over the horse’s back.” He ran a soothing hand down Belle’s neck. “Give it a try,” he said. “I’m sure you’ll love it.”
Over the next hour, though, Hank’s certainty shriveled like grass during the dry season. He eyed the girl, who sat so stiff he’d swear someone had replaced her spine with a ramrod. For the umpteenth time, he reminded her to hold the reins in one hand. Just as she’d done every other time, she ignored him. Without using her knees, she urged the horse to go faster. The instant Belle broke into an easy jog, Noelle rose in her stirrups. Confused, the mare blew air...and immediately settled into a plodding walk, exactly as she’d done the last dozen times Noelle had attempted to post.
Beyond the riding circle, a horse loped toward the Circle P on the drive from the main road. Dust rose behind the lone rider. Recognizing Kelly’s sleek form atop a familiar quarter horse, Hank climbed down from his seat on the top rail. He looked from his red-faced daughter to an increasingly balky mare. He didn’t know which he felt the sorriest for, but he had to put an end to the situation. For all their sakes.
“That’s enough for today,” he called, just as Kelly thundered into the yard.
“Yeehaw!” She brought the grey gelding to an impressive dirt-spraying halt. “I’d forgotten how good it feels to ride with the sun at your back and the breeze in your face.” Flushed and windblown, she slid easily from the saddle before Hank could offer to help her. “Hey, Noelle. You look mighty fine on that mare.”
Rather than return the greeting, Noelle averted her eyes. With a nod to the girl who looked as if she might burst into tears any second, Kelly slipped the reins over the gelding’s head and led him to the corral where Hank stood.
“What’s up with the princess?” she whispered.
Hank brushed the brim of his hat in greeting before, his voice low, he answered, “She can’t seem to get the hang of the way we do things.”
From her perch atop Belle, Noelle piped, “Everyone should ride English. It’s the only proper way to ride.”
“It looks pretty, I’ll give you that.” Kelly’s lips pursed. “But riding Western sure makes barrel racing a whole lot easier.”
Noelle’s chin lifted. “You rode in the rodeo?” she asked, her voice filled with wonder.
“I chased a few cans in the Junior Division.” Kelly nodded. “Along with your dad and his brothers. We had a blast.”
That month of Saturdays when they would all gather in the barn before daybreak, load the horses and gear, and head out to the rodeo, had been some of the best days of his life. With his dad at the wheel and Kelly beside him on the backseat, he used to pray for faraway competitions just so he could hold her close during the long drive. Once they reached the arena, she’d cheered for him while he’d won one gold buckle after another. She’d been a good barrel racer, too, taking home the prize in her division as often as not. And then, one Saturday, she hadn’t shown up by the time they had to leave.
He’d bitten the dust in every event that day and come home a loser with empty pockets. Kelly’s news—that she was late and scared—hadn’t cheered him up one wit.
“You think I could try?” Noelle’s hope-filled question drifted across the riding ring.
Hank hesitated. Too bad life didn’t come with a re-ride. He’d use his to go back to that day and reassure Kelly everything would be all right.
“Dad?”
He tore his gaze off Kelly. “I don’t see why not.” He spun his finger in a circle. “You want to give it another go?”
In the ring, Noelle shifted the reins to her left hand. Her posture relaxed the tiniest bit as she clucked to Belle. “C’mon now, gal.” She touched her heels to the mare’s sides, laughing when the horse broke into an easy lope.
Hank grinned down at Kelly. Here, he’d been fussing with Noelle for the better part of an hour, and all it took was one suggestion from his former girlfriend to turn his daughter around. “Thanks for that,” he whispered.
“Glad to help out.” Kelly turned to him, a teasing light in her green eyes. “You think you could rustle up a couple of cans?”
Hank removed his hat and ran a hand through his hair. Though the barrels they’d used as kids were long gone, he was pretty sure he could find something that would do.
“Set ’em up for me, won’t you? I have to talk with Ty now, but maybe after I finish, we could give Noelle a little demonstration.”
“I’d be glad to.” For one long minute, Hank watched Kelly saunter toward the house.
“Hey, Dad, look at me. I’m doing it!” Noelle called from the ring.
Another day, another time, he and Kelly would have a heart-to-heart about their past, but there was no changing it. No do-overs. For now, he had to focus on the present and the girl who circled the ring as if she’d been riding Western all her life.
* * *
KELLY SPARED A single glance over her shoulder at Hank and his daughter. Ancient sorrow whispered through her chest, stirring the hurt she’d dealt with every day for more than a decade. She put one protective hand over her belly.
She’d done the right thing by calling it off with Hank in high school. Even now, looking back with the perspective of a dozen years, there was only so much she could forgive. Granted, neither of them had planned on getting pregnant—what teenagers did? But Hank had moved so quickly from stunned disbelief to anger, she’d had to ask herself if she really knew him at all. Then, when she’d lost the baby—their baby—his cold indifference had only proven what she already knew, that he wasn’t the person she thought he was.
Judging from Hank’s troubled relationship with Noelle, he hadn’t changed a bit. He had married on the rebound, and divorced soon after. He’d handed all the responsibility—and the joys—of parenthood off to his ex-wife. Though he had a large, loving family willing to pitch in whenever he needed help, he’d all but ignored his little girl. Kelly winced, thinking of all the milestones he must have missed. Noelle’s first word, her first step, her first day at school.
She ran a hand over the end of her ponytail. He hadn’t been involved when it was easy. How much harder would it have been for him to be a part of their child’s life? Between them, they hadn’t even had two nickels to rub together when she’d gotten pregnant at seventeen. They’d never have been able to give their child the toys, the advantages Noelle took for granted.
But if Hank had stood by her instead of turning his back on her...
Her grandfather might still have tossed her to the curb like yesterday’s trash, but Hank would have been there to catch her. He would’ve put a simple gold ring on her finger. Instead of bumming around on the rodeo circuit, he would’ve gone to work for his dad after graduation. They would have moved into one of the dozen small houses on the Circle P. She’d have sewn curtains for the windows, painted the nursery, created bookcases out of wood and concrete blocks. Best of all, when the leaves began to change and the first bird arrived on its annual fall migration, she’d have laid their child in the same cradle Hank’s parents had used for all five of their sons.
And they’d have loved each other. Wouldn’t that have been enough?
In her dreams she sometimes still pictured Hank coming home after a day of riding fence lines or cutting hay. Saw him lifting their baby into the air, giving their child a ride on his broad shoulders. As their child grew older, they’d roughhouse on the lawn, hold sock battles in the living room. He’d read bedtime stories, tuck their little one in at night and turn out the lights. Then, she and Hank would curl up together on the couch, where she’d doze on his shoulder while he whispered sweet words into her ear. When they called it a night and went to bed, they would make love. Slow and easy or fast and furious, she wouldn’t care as long as they were together.
If her dreams had come true, would she have been happy? Deliriously so, she admitted. Regret coated the back of her throat, and she swallowed. Sometimes life didn’t turn out the way you wanted it to. As a young girl, she’d dreamed of home and family, but as she matured she’d traded those dreams for ones that were far more practical. While her career might never fill her arms with babies, she’d worked hard, pulled herself up by her bootstraps. She’d built a good life for herself, a life she enjoyed. Soon, she’d have the big office and the six-figure income that would prove, once and for all, how far she’d come. Better yet, the next big promotion guaranteed her acceptance into the Palmetto Boots family. The sooner she got back to her life in Houston, the better, she told herself.
She squared her shoulders as her boots struck the first of the wide stairs. The shaded porch offered a cool respite from the heat, and she stepped onto it. Taking a moment, she drank in the scent of the vibrant blooms that hung in evenly placed pots along the eaves. The flowers made a stunning addition to the ranch, and eager to see what other changes Ty and his wife had brought to the Circle P, she reached for the doorknob.
At the last second, she hesitated. Would she be welcome? As a child, she’d raced through those doors completely unaware of the ill feelings between their families. By the time she’d reached her teens, she’d learned to tune out her grandfather’s rants about the neighbors while she kept her own friendship with them a secret. Back then, the Parkers and the Judds had accepted her the same way they accepted all their sons’ friends.
But, in the years she’d been away, the Parkers had probably spent a lot more money on weed control than they would have if her grandfather had taken better care of his own land. She’d seen the Bar X’s poorly maintained fences and knew they caused more headaches for the people who worked on the Circle P. Suddenly uncertain of the reception she’d receive, she took a step back and knocked. She barely had time to gather her thoughts before the door opened.
“Ty Parker,” she said, offering her best smile to the grownup version of her childhood friend. The owner of the Circle P had filled out what was once a lanky frame. When a guarded smile replaced the teasing grin he’d worn as a child, she added, “I appreciate your seeing me like this.”
Ty swung the door wide. “Welcome to the Circle P,” he said, his tone formal. “I was sorry to hear about your grandfather. How’s he doing?”
“’Bout as well as can be expected, I guess. They moved him to the rehab center over in Okeechobee. It makes for a bit of a drive to go see him, but he’s getting good care.” With effort, she stopped babbling.
Ty’s lips softened into a sympathetic smile. He stuck one hand in the pocket of his jeans. “I can’t exactly say we’ve been on good terms, but no one wanted to see anything like this happen. You’ll let us know if there’s anything we can do to help, won’t you?”
Kelly gulped, hoping he was as anxious as she was to put an end to the ill will that existed between their families. She drew in strength along with her next breath. “That’s why I’m here, Ty. To make things right between us...and to ask for your help.”
From somewhere deeper in the house, a door slammed, a dog barked. Childish laughter erupted from the other side of the great room and echoed off the polished hardwood floors. The sound of running feet added to the sudden din. Fearing her words had gotten lost in all the noise, Kelly opened her mouth to repeat them, just as a towheaded boy and a girl with dark curls burst into the room. The boy skidded to a stop at Ty’s side.
“Me ’n Bree’re going outside, Dad. We’re gonna play in the barn.”
Creases around Ty’s eyes deepened as he frowned down at the boy. “Whoa now, partner. Mind your manners. Say hello to our guest.”
“Sorry.” An abashed look crossed the face of the boy. He struck out his hand. “Jimmy Parker. Pleased to meet you.”
Kelly extended a hand to Ty’s adopted son. “Pleased to meet you, too,” she said.
“I’m Bree Shane—ow!” Rubbing her ribs, the tiny girl glared at her playmate.
“Judd,” hissed the boy who’d jabbed her with his elbow.
“Oooh, sorry. I mis’membered.” Her frown flipped over on itself. “Bree Judd.” Beneath a halo of curls Colt’s stepdaughter offered up a saucy smile.
Her heart melting, Kelly blinked at Ty. “Must be nice having a new crop of kids around the ranch. It’s been a few years, hasn’t it?”
Memories danced in the big rancher’s eyes. “Too long,” he admitted. His expression softened as he stared down at his son. “You climb into that hayloft again, there’ll be no dessert for a week.” When Jimmy swore they were only going to visit some new pups, Ty shrugged. “C’mon back to the office. We can talk there without being interrupted.”
He led the way across the glossy cedar floors they used to skid across in their socks when they were a little older than Jimmy and Bree. In the far corner of the great room, a leather couch and chairs had replaced the worn upholstered furniture where their gang had watched TV on rainy summer afternoons. A few more photographs had been added to the gallery of Parker and Judd pictures, but the place hadn’t changed much more in the years since her last visit.
Once Ty settled behind the large, paper-strewn desk in the office and Kelly took her place in a comfortable guest chair, she got straight down to business. “Ty, we both know the Tompkinses and the Parkers have a long, acrimonious history. I’m hoping between the two of us we can put an end to the hard times and forge a better future for both ranches.”
A healthy dose of skepticism raised Ty’s eyebrows as he leaned forward to prop his elbows on the desk. “I’m mighty glad to hear you say that, Kelly, but I’m not sure your grandfather would feel the same way.”
“I had a long talk with his therapists this morning.” Kelly sighed. Much as she had hoped the doctors were wrong, Paul’s speech was still garbled, and one side of his body was completely paralyzed. “Given the extent of the damage, there’s not much hope for improvement.”
Honest sympathy shaded Ty’s face. “How are you holding up?”
Kelly hid her emotions behind a brave smile. Ty might have been an old frie
nd, but he didn’t need to know how much she’d hoped to patch things up with her grandfather. Fate had apparently denied her that opportunity. Determined to achieve one good thing during her trip home, she said the words she’d rehearsed that morning.
“First, I want to thank you for sending your crew over to move my cattle to a new pasture this week. Between that and the silage Hank opened up, I can keep the herd fed. At least for a little while.”
Ty motioned her thanks aside. “I was glad to do it. Things on the Circle P slow down after the spring roundup. We won’t get too busy again till fall, when the trail rides get going. Helping out gave the men something to do besides sittin’ around watchin’ the grass grow.”
“Well, thanks just the same. I know those Brahmans have created big problems for you. I want you to know Hank’s helping me locate a buyer for them.”
The lines across Ty’s brow deepened. “There’s no need to sell your cattle on my account. While it’s true I’ve never been overly fond of Brahmans, you have the right to raise them...as long as you maintain the fences between our properties.”
“There’s more to it than that, as I’m sure Hank has told you.” Not that she’d fault him for talking out of school.
Ty shrugged his shoulders. “Nah, he didn’t say much. Just that your grandfather probably wasn’t going to ranch anymore. And that you’d be heading back to Houston soon. Why? Is there more to the story I need to know?”
“I wouldn’t say need, exactly.” Wondering why Hank hadn’t filled Ty in, she took a deep breath. “Pops has always been...” Mule-headed. Vengeful. She paused, unable to choose the right word.
“Difficult?” Ty prompted.
“Yeah, let’s go with that.” She guessed it was as good a description as any. Her grandfather had always been one to hold a grudge. He’d never forgiven the Parkers or the Judds following the crash that killed her grandmother. Not that they’d had anything to do with it. Granny had been on her way home after doing the neighborly thing—delivering a covered-dish supper the week Doris Judd had given birth to twins—when her car had veered off the road. She’d died instantly. It had been a terrible accident, certainly no one’s fault. But Pops had never recovered from the loss. Lately, though, the way he’d neglected the Bar X went far beyond irrational.
