City Boy, Country Heart: Contemporary Western Romance (Heart of the Boy Book 2)

by Andrea Downing

  She never responded. He always interpreted the end of call beeps on his phone as her having lost her nerve to speak to him.

  * * *

  K.C. had the window seat on the flight up from Denver and peered out at the undulating mountain peaks, the topography of a landscape she always saw as the most striking she had ever encountered. The plane tilted and leveled, fought the downdrafts between the mountains, and steadied again. She could not suppress the excitement she felt—like coming home. There was an ease to her soul that came over her, a release of her tension, almost a joy at coming back to where she felt she belonged—no matter what lay ahead. Yes, she had no doubt she belonged here. And as for Chay—for better or worse, that would sort itself out. She knew she was acting like some teen with a crush to keep phoning him and never saying anything, but as soon as she heard his voice, she froze. She luxuriated in just listening to him, the news he shared, the melody of his tenor, envisaging the outlines of his face, the sea-green eyes, the dimple that always made her smile, and his caress and love.

  Yes. She knew she should just be ‘grown up’ about it, phone him and tell him she was coming back and they should meet, discuss what had happened, but fear of his rejection played a part; if he brushed her off, she’d be starting her life in Wyoming with negative feelings. It had come down to this: there would be a confrontation at some stage, and whenever it occurred, it would be now or never. Either it would right itself, or it would end once and for all.

  Forever was going to be forever.

  But flying up from Denver, she was sure she had come ‘home’—this was where she belonged, with whomever she spent forever.

  * * *

  Breezy’s smile stretched the lines of her face into a landscape of happiness. There may have been a few more wrinkles on the old woman, but she was as welcoming as ever, as buoyant as before, and still talking a blue streak. As the pickup bounced and jolted its way up the familiar dirt road toward the Lazy S, K.C. was filled in on the latest news of just about everyone—everyone, that is, except Chay. She didn’t expect Breezy to be anything more than circumspect about Chay in talking about the ranch people; K.C. knew full well Breezy had, in all likelihood, been told about the break-up by the man himself. If she knew anything more, she wasn’t spilling the beans.

  “Oh, Bob’s new lady friend. We don’t see much of her but I understand there’s trouble between her and Bob’s son who lives over in Idaho—guess it’s that step-parent type of thing, not that I’m much of an expert. You know, kids seeing the replacement as a threat, or maybe taking their inheritance. Something like that.”

  “I never even knew Bob had been divorced—”

  “Widower. Lost his first wife to cancer quite some years back now, terrible thing. We all loved her. Great mother, too. Right before Bobby—that’s Bob’s son—went off to State. Let me see, Bobby’s married now with a one-year-old so must be eight or nine years back.”

  “Do you hear from Dakota at all?”

  “Oh, golly, yes. She wrote an email a few months back; been meaning to answer but, you know, been so dang busy, first with the…the ranch, and then….” Breezy’s words wound down as she tried to avoid mentioning Chay and his ranch. She seemed to be pretending to concentrate on her driving. “Well, anyway,” she took up again. “I haven’t got round to answering. But she was well, back in university—I may be wrong. Memory’s not so great these days.”

  “That’s hard to believe, Breezy. You always seem so on top of things.”

  Breezy gave K.C. a quick sideways glance and then switched back to the road ahead.

  Whatever was going through Breezy’s mind, K.C. believed Chay and herself were playing in the background. She wondered how long it would take the older woman to give in and ask, or at least start the conversation.

  “I am on top of things. Or so I like to think. And when we got your email asking if you could work the front desk again this summer, we were absolutely delighted—Bob and me, that is. Makes it sound like we’re a couple!” She guffawed at her own joke. “Ah. Anyway. New bunch of hands, of course; you won’t know any of them. None too good looking, but nice boys. Good boys.”

  Ah, so she is touching on it now.

  “I haven’t come back to get married, Breezy. I wanted the job because, having finished my M.A. now—”

  “Good for you! Bet you did right well, sweetheart.” There was sincere delight in her voice.

  “Thanks. Well, now that’s out of the way I’m trying to get a teaching job here in Wyoming. Quite honestly,” she added turning to face Breezy’s profile, “I couldn’t get out of New York fast enough.” And you can convey that information to whomever you wish!

  But Breezy brushed past it. “Oh, and it may be of some interest….” She stopped herself as if she were waiting for some reaction from K.C. but she kept her eyes straight ahead. “…Jamie’s parents, you know, the Forrests who lived in that great big house, they split up. Wife took off with another man and old man Forrest is living alone out there, running that ranch with his cowhands, drinking himself to death by all accounts. Guess it was all just too much to take in their son’s death, what he did, drugging girls and abusing them, trying to shoot y’all. Falling off the roof here that night like he did. I haven’t any children but I can tell ya, if I did, and one of them was like Jamie, I’d be drinking myself into a right stew as well.”

  “Poor man. I’m sorry for him.” But in her mind was the reel of those events playing again—seeing Jamie in the mirror drug her drink, running for her life through the sagebrush and trying to flag down cars until at last Chay stopped. How he kept his distance, knowing she was like a wounded animal. How everything evolved from that night. He hadn’t been a ‘bad boy’ after all; he had been a good man, a terrific lover, and a best friend.

  “K.C.? A penny for them?”

  “What? Sorry?”

  “I was saying it promises to be a busy summer from the reservations we’ve been taking. I think you’ll be kept busy.”

  “Great. That’s what I need.”

  Breezy turned and looked at her, taking in her admission. “Home sweet home,” she said as they pulled into the parking lot in front of the office. “Recognize it?”

  “Looks just the same. By the way, are there any other girls in the women’s bunkhouse?”

  “Nope. Not at the moment. Bob says with this lot of guests he may feel he needs to take on one or more additional wranglers, but for the moment you’re alone there.” She swung out of the cab and walked around to hoist down K.C.’s bags. “Looks like you’re planning on moving in with this lot.” She handed the girl a large satchel while keeping an over-sized wheelie to roll over to the cabin. “Guess you’re thinking of staying a while.”

  “Guess I am.”

  * * *

  The bunkhouse didn’t look any different. She laughed at herself, believing she saw the outline of Dakota’s body in the mattress across from her bunk as she chose the same bed she had had the last time. Sticking her head underneath, she spied up at the ticking coming through the sagging springs of the top bunk, and spotted the stain that looked like a map of Australia. She smiled to herself, and threw her case up on her bed.

  The cubbyholes next to the bunks hadn’t, in all likelihood, been dusted in two years and, sure enough, as she threw back the curtain that covered them, a puff of dust motes danced in the light. This time, however, she knew where the cleaning implements were kept along with the sprays and liquids, and she headed there straight away to give the shelves a little clean. There she found a brand new vacuum cleaner, which, to her delight, had attachments that she used to vacuum her mattress as well as inside the cubbyholes. That done, the unpacking began.

  And then the screen door swung open and Breezy was standing there, hands on hips.

  “Okay, Miss Smarty Pants, Miss New York Master’s Degree. Let’s just stop beatin’ about the bush and get down to brass tacks. What are you gonna do about Chay?”

  CHAPTER NINE

/>   K.C. stood there, knowing this conversation would have happened sooner or later, but far too tired to face it head on. She was exhausted from her flights, wanting to unpack, shower, and just get oriented once more, and hoping Breezy would give her time to get her thoughts in order. But no. Here was Breezy, ready to tackle the subject straight away, perhaps start things in motion.

  “What do you know?” was all K.C. could respond.

  “Well.” Breezy plopped down on the bed opposite K.C.’s, her gnarled hands clasped in her lap. “I know he dang well came back from New York after just three months. That didn’t last long! Bob hired him on here as he had no place to stay, his own home being rented out for several months more.”

  “Oh, Breezy.” K.C. slumped onto her bed, pushing aside the unpacked items waiting to be put away. “He was just so miserable in New York. So miserable. I couldn’t stand it any more. And when you rang with that awful news about the Department of Transport wanting to put a road through his property, and asking him to come back, or telling him he’d have to come back at some stage, I knew it was the right thing to do, to just say ‘go’.”

  “Well, of course he’d have to come home. But you sent him straight off, before Christmas, and without asking him to come back to you. You broke up with the poor man. Couldn’t you have had a long distance relationship? Told him to write and phone? He came home distraught.”

  “Did he?” Part of K.C. wanted it to be so, the other part did not want to think she had done that to Chay, that she had hurt him so, not the Chay she knew and loved.

  “Sweetheart. What the heck did you think you were doing? Did you think Chay would just stop loving you ‘like that’—that you weren’t hurting him?”

  K.C. picked up a nightdress and played with it, unfolding it on her lap and refolding it as she trawled through her mind. “I believed I was doing the best thing for him. There wasn’t any point in asking him to stay until after Christmas. What kind of a Christmas would we have had—with my parents whom he hated and who hated him—and knowing he was going to leave right after? What was the point of that? The best thing, I believed, was to send him off straight away, let him go home and be with you and his friends and people who knew him and loved him, maybe go to his uncle for the holidays. I couldn’t ask him to come back to something he hated so much. And I was distraught, too. And everything sort of fell apart for me. I couldn’t work for months, and then my father died—”

  “Your father died? Does Chay know that?”

  “No, of course not. How would he?”

  “Well.” Breezy stood and paced the length of the row of bunks. “He tells me he gets these phone calls where no one answers when he picks up. I take it that is you.”

  K.C. hung her head in answer and put the nightdress aside. Facing Breezy, she said “I…I had to have some contact. You said once you’d been in love, and I’m not saying at all you’re too old to remember. Believe me.” She caught something of a smirk on the old woman’s face as she placed one hand on a hip and stood there. “It’s terrifying to love someone like that, to need someone else so much that just the sound of his voice goes through you and soothes you, heals you for a bit. It was as if I was some sort of electric robot and just calling Chay gave me some energy. He’s a drug, and he gave me a temporary high. I felt so empty, so very empty inside, my heart just felt bruised, and I couldn’t concentrate, and the fatigue was terrible. You just want to stay in bed the whole time. So I made those calls as a private caller. I knew he’d know it was me but it didn’t matter. I thought maybe he’d come back to New York of his own accord, just walk in one day and surprise me and everything would go on, but he never did.”

  “And then your father died?”

  “Yes. It’s funny but in some ways…well, it made me think of something else other than myself and Chay, having to look after my mother for a while, sort out my father’s estate, discuss my mother’s future because I insisted I wanted to leave New York and that’s difficult now with one child and one parent.”

  “How did she take it?” Breezy perched once more on the bunk opposite K.C., her face folded into sincere sympathy.

  “Not well. But one day she just phoned me and said she’d made her life and now it was time for me to make my own future, whatever it may be, and not to worry about her.” K.C. frowned. “She said she had plenty of money to do whatever she wanted, and if she needed help she could always hire it. And she pointed out she isn’t so old she can’t travel and enjoy herself.” She shrugged her acceptance of this. “So here I am. In Wyoming, where I want to be.”

  “But not with the person you want to be with.”

  “I…I know Chay and I will meet up sometime and either it will end once and for all, or we’ll get back together. But whichever it is, I want to stay in Wyoming. That much I do know.” She ran a hand through her hair and blew out a breath as if that would clear her mind. “How is he? How is his ranch doing? Are you going to tell me anything?”

  “He’s fine.” Breezy hesitated a moment before saying, “He’s getting on with his plans. That ranch was…is very important to him. It’s been in his family for generations and it’s the only life he’s ever seen himself leading. But, you know, he hasn’t much money though he was able to save quite a bit from the Bantries’ leases and, of course, the D.O.T. paid him for what it took. Did you know that? He and the Bantries lost the case?”

  “I…heard.”

  When K.C. didn’t explain, Breezy continued: “So he’s building up the ranch and he’s back to doing some rodeo to supplement the income, and he’s having Jarrod, who did the ranch-house renovations, renovate the bunkhouse into a rental cabin so he’ll have income from that.”

  “Wow. What a great idea. I remember that bunkhouse.” And the times we made love there….

  “So, yeah. He’s getting on.”

  They sat for some seconds in silence; K.C. had a strong sense something wasn’t being said. She recognized Breezy hadn’t spoken the magic words, ‘I know he misses you and still loves you,’ but perhaps she didn’t feel she could speak on Chay’s behalf like that.

  At last, the older woman got up and peered across at her, eyes narrowing. “He’s in the rodeo this Saturday. Would you like me to go with you?”

  There was no question as to whether K.C. would go or not, just whether she would go alone. Had the time come to see him? Would going to the rodeo be the way to start, maybe just ‘bumping into him’? She knew she had to face her fears. She could, of course, wait for Breezy to tell Chay she was here and see if he showed up but that was cowardice, pure and simple. She could be ultra-bold and drive over to the ranch and face him there, or maybe seek him out at the bar in town he frequented. But she liked the distance being in the stands at the rodeo gave her, cheering him on, and seeing if she felt up to speaking with him after.

  “No,” she said at last. “I’ll go alone. Don’t tell him I’m here yet, will you. Let me see him there.”

  * * *

  Chay leaned against the railing, sucking on a straw of hay and adjusting his chaps. His good-luck rodeo buckskins were on, and his good-luck hat, though some of his fellow bareback bronc riders had switched to helmets now. He stomped a bit into his boots to get his heels in the right place and sauntered down to the chute to wait his turn, nodding hellos to friends and acquaintances as he passed.

  “Gonna smash that beautiful face of yours, Ridgway, with that animal you drew. ‘Dante’s Devil’ is a real hard ride,” one of his pals called over.

  “Harder the better, Dan.” Chay kept the cockiness in his voice; if he let fear come to the fore, it would rule him. The more self-possessed he could remain, the better. He could feel the usual tingle of nerves making their way to his chest; his breathing got tighter. He closed his eyes for a moment, took himself to a quiet place, and heard someone call his name to mount.

  The flankmen were still playing with the flank strap so he waited a moment before climbing on. He got his gloved hand under the rigging and moved
it until it felt right. He started to think about the ride, about marking out and staying on for eight seconds. Eight seconds. It seemed such a short amount of time but when you were up there on that horse, it was the longest time imaginable. He took a deep breath, let it out, and breathed in once more before nodding to the gate man.

  When the gate swung open, Chay’s body jarred as the horse seemed to fly first one way, then the other. The colors of the crowd blurred like the design on a child’s top when it spun. His body was wracked with jolt after jolt, shock after shock, and somewhere he felt his hat spin off. But he stayed on and at last the buzzer went and the pickup men were there. Only thing was, he was hung up, could not get his hand free. As the animal continued to buck, the pickup men moved in closer to try to help. Chay kept pulling but it would not come free.

  And then, the strap broke.

  The crowd roared as one of the men caught Chay and yanked him onto his horse just as Dante’s Devil threw his hind legs out and caught the other horse on the flank. The horse started to go down, somehow managed to find its stride, and rode off with the two men to the applause of the crowd.

  “Hell, you all right, Ridgway?”

  Chay slipped down from the horse and looked up at his savior. In the stand, the crowd was roaring and cheering but Chay stood for a moment, his aching hand on the side of the horse, his legs wobbling a bit.

  “Damnit, I got kicked.”

  “You need the medic?”

  “No. I’ll be fine. Just a bruise.”

  “Well, get the hell out there and take your bow. Crowd’s going wild.”

  Chay limped out about as far as he thought he could go, now the damn bronc had been cleared out, and there were no rough stock in the arena. The other pickup man rode over with his lost hat and handed it to him; Chay made a courtly bow and, as he came up, gave the audience a big smile to show he was fine.