“Hey there,” came Jolette Marie’s throaty voice.
He turned to her. “Hey.”
Speaking of confidence. Jolette Marie probably sweated confidence right through the pores of her skin. Of course, she was beautiful, which helped. A redhead, tall, long legs. He briefly wondered why Sadie didn’t seem to have as much confidence. The men chased after her, too, like every other eligible woman. And she was beautiful. Clearly smart. He caught himself briefly gazing over the top of Jolette Marie’s head to see Sadie, still talking to Sean. But she didn’t look all that happy, taking small sips of her beer. She caught him staring.
He quickly looked away.
Jolette Marie noticed and laughed. “Sadie? She’s headed to have herself a big wedding someday soon and plenty of babies.”
“Yeah. I know.” He squinted and took a pull of his beer. “And I’m not interested.”
“Right. Well, although I’m standin’ right here and you looked over my head, I’m willing to let that go. I know you’re worth it. You want to get out of here?”
He considered it. But for reasons he refused to examine too closely, he didn’t want to leave with Jolette Marie tonight. Not while Sadie could see them. The idea didn’t have the same appeal to him as when he’d walked in here tonight. He might be coming down with something. Because Jolette Marie would certainly help him unwind and relax with zero complications.
“I have a really early day, sweetheart.” He winked and smiled. “Raincheck?”
“Sure thing.” She stood on tiptoes and planted a big fat kiss on his lips.
Lincoln carefully extracted himself from Jolette Marie, doing everything but pat her on the head, and then he was out the door.
Chapter 3
As she usually did on quiet calm evenings alone on the ranch, Lillian Carver gathered her pen and paper. Her hands were already weak from all the knitting today, but she settled at the antique rolltop desk in her bedroom and began another letter to her late husband, Albert.
My dearest Albert,
I’m worried about our Lincoln. Either he’s off to the rodeo where he’s doing God knows what with who knows who, or he’s home where he spends too much time alone. Just him and Hank on the ranch, now that Jackson’s gone to Nashville. And I won’t lie to you. I know he does most of the work on the hill. Hank is drinking too much again. Both are too stupid to realize I know.
Lillian put the pen down and looked around the room. Her fingers were old and arthritic these days and letter writing took a lot out of her. Usually she simply started a letter and her late husband would show up, wearing his boots and spurs, ready to “fix” everything. He never did know how to simply listen. Oh, she wasn’t crazy, the therapist said. Just as long as she realized that Albert was simply a figment of her imagination, he could be a comfort and a way of dealing with and managing her grief.
He’d been dead for five years now, of a sudden and massive heart attack, but it wasn’t until recently that she’d needed him. She’d kept busy what with Hank and his three children, cooking for and serving up the hungry cowboys three meals a day. But now with Jackson off to Nashville, and Daisy working at the auto shop and rarely home, Lincoln spent most of his time up on the hill with her miserable son. Somehow, she needed a way to bring this family back together again. She would start in order, with Lincoln. Hank was sort of a lost cause, sadly, at least for now. But Lillian figured if she got Lincoln married off, everything else would slowly fall into place. There would eventually be more little Carvers running around (God help her, please, some girls would be heaven-sent).
Jackson would come home for the wedding. Nothing would stop that boy from standing up for his older brother, hero, and best friend. At that point, she could work on getting Jackson and Eve back together again. What happened there was just too sad for words. Lastly, she’d deal with her only granddaughter. The little hellion she’d raised from a toddler needed someone special. Someone strong.
Fingers aching, Lillian kept writing.
Sadie Stephens is on my mind. She’s the one for my Lincoln. I suppose on some level I’ve always known. She has practically worshipped him for most of her life. He likes her, too. Just doesn’t want to admit it yet. He blames Sadie for driving Eve home instead of coming to get Jackson, so he could talk some sense into Eve. Sadie is just like Lincoln: loyal to the core. I thought their fate was sealed when they each took sides in Eve and Jackson’s breakup. But that was a while ago and we’ve all learned so much since then. I don’t even blame Eve anymore, much less Sadie. Such a sweet girl with a big heart. I wish you could see her. She’s the teacher now!
“Woman, what are you yammering on and on about now?” Albert appeared on his side of their bed, crossing his booted feet at the ankles. Arms crossed. Toothpick in his mouth.
He looked exactly the way she’d last seen him, before he’d walked to the barn and collapsed halfway there.
“Albert! Do you enjoy torturing my arthritic fingers? Do you? I’ve been writing two whole paragraphs until you finally decided to show up!”
“Sadie Stephens, huh? Well, that’s a choice.”
“The best one, naturally. I’m going to have to intervene, of course. As usual.”
“Well, could you even stop yourself?”
“You make it sound as if things will just work out by themselves. They won’t. I have to push them along. Sometimes shove.”
“Whether you have to or not, you certainly do enjoy it.”
“It keeps me occupied now that you’re gone. And a fine mess you left me with, too. Thanks for that!”
“Hank will be fine. A little heartache never killed anyone.”
But their son had nursed the pain of losing Maggie May for far too long. Something else was wrong. A mother had a sixth sense about her children.
“Anyway, back to Lincoln, old man.” She waved her hand dismissively. “I’m going to get Lincoln more involved at the new school. They’re in a portable now while the men fix the old church. But I need for him to be in close contact with Sadie. She’ll be eternally grateful to him, and maybe finally let him know how she feels. He’s not a mind reader. Actually, he’s not very romantic, either. Sort of like his predecessors.” At this she slid Albert a look of contempt.
Would it have killed him to bring home flowers every now and then? Albert just shrugged.
Lillian paced the floor. “The problem is Lincoln thinks he’s already invested enough time in the new school. Sadie is organizing a career day event. I’m sure he’s thinkin’ he can’t leave the hill for the twenty minutes it might take him. Or maybe he’s avoiding Sadie. I know for certain he’s avoiding commitment. Oh, that boy! If he wasn’t so tall, I’d ring his fool neck.”
“I’d offer a suggestion, but you probably won’t want to hear it. You hate when I try to fix everything. I’m trying this new listening thing out.”
“Oh, now you decide to listen? I need help here, Albert! Help from beyond.”
“Well,” Albert said, leaning back on the pillows. “Maybe you could just talk to Sadie on your own and sign him up. He’d be none the wiser. Then, on the day, you remind him to go. Pretend he knew about it all along and it must have slipped his mind.”
Genius! Why didn’t Lillian think of that? Wait. She had. Albert was just a figment of her imagination. And as if she needed further confirmation, when she turned to the bed again, he’d gone.
“See you next time, old man.”
Plenty of work lay ahead. Best get busy.
* * *
A week later, Lincoln had cleared his load. About three times. He’d get on top of the chores for a day and then chaos would hit. A fence line would break, and cattle would wander away. He and Hank would chase them down with help from their cow ponies, corral them to another pasture, and get to work on repairs. Sometimes the hay wouldn’t be delivered on time and he’d have to go get it. Or Hank would drink too much and be of little use the next day. There was little free time on a working ranch. Even less when you w
ere a good neighbor.
Today, he’d been up before dawn as usual and worked a few hours on the broken fence at the north pasture when Mima drove a late breakfast out to him. She lived down the hill in the newer family home Hank originally built for Maggie and their family. When he saw her truck pull up by the barn, he mounted his gelding and made fast tracks back from the fence line.
Mima pulled out a box for Lincoln. “You best hurry on, or you’ll be late.”
“Late to what? That fence is gonna take me all day.” He unwrapped and took a hearty bite of an egg, bacon, and cheese burrito. “Hank’s inside nursing another headache.”
“You’ll just have to get back to it after school then.”
School.
Lincoln didn’t have a good feeling about this. He swallowed and squinted at his grandmother. “What school?”
“Career day. You told Sadie you’d love to do it. And it’s today.”
He gaped. He would have remembered volunteering. “Today?”
“Don’t worry, you have plenty of time to get there.”
“You volunteered me? Why not at least give me a heads up before today?”
“Slipped my mind.”
He didn’t believe for a second this slipped Mima’s mind. Her mind was a steel trap. Lincoln whipped off his Stetson and struck his leg with it. The closest he got to cursing in front of his grandmother.
“Now, now,” she said, knowing exactly what he’d done. “Won’t take you but a few minutes. Just take the wood steer and some rope. That’s how Hank taught you. Talk to the children. Don’t tell me you don’t know how to do that.”
“I’m gonna have to shower and shave first.”
“Whatever doesn’t kill ya makes you stronger.” Mima smirked.
“You’re hilarious.” Lincoln took a last menacing bite of his burrito.
An hour later, he’d showered, shaved, packed his truck, and left for town. This was all so typical. He’d have done this career day thing, he would have, but wanted it to be on his own time. His decision. But his family was forever binding him to obligations when he wanted to be his own man.
The Double C Ranch should have been a family ranch, but only he and Hank worked it. Jackson was off trying to get famous in Nashville, and while Daisy was perfectly capable, she preferred mechanics to cattle. Her choice. That left him. And yeah, sometimes he wanted to run away and join the circus because he was so dang tired of being the grown-up.
He pulled onto the main street where a few days ago he’d been on the roof of the old church replacing shingles. Now, here he was, back with a wood steer. Because he was the nice guy. The good son.
Leaving his rope and steer outside, he made his way to the portable and opened the door. Every single eye turned to him as he walked inside. He only cared about one set of eyes. They belonged to Sadie, whose eyes were bright, her smile wide. She wore another one of those tantalizing dresses paired with her blue matching boots, her long hair pulled back into a high ponytail.
The anger and frustration rushed out of him so fast he swore he heard the sound of it.
Wooooooosh.
Sweetheart, you stop looking at me like that, or I won’t be responsible for what I do.
“It’s Lincoln!” one of the kids shouted.
“Is not! It’s the rodeo cowboy,” a little girl said.
“Big deal, my daddy says he coulda been a rodeo cowboy,” Jimmy Ray said.
Little punk.
“When are we eatin’?” said another, much larger, boy.
Sadie clapped her hands to get their attention. “Boys and girls, this is Lincoln Carver, and he is a rodeo cowboy. A champion. He’s come to show y’all how he ropes a steer.”
Lincoln nodded to the kids, then walked toward the front of the room. “Brought a wood steer to demonstrate.”
“Okay, but first let’s talk to the children.”
“You talk.”
Sadie’s smile got a little smaller. “We can ask you questions. But you’ll have to answer them.”
“Sure, why not?”
Hands were raised and the volley of questions began.
Yes, he’d been injured before, but no, he’d never been trampled by a bull. No, not a horse, either. Sure, he’d been thrown once by a pis—er, angry horse. Sometimes, yes, some blood (Sadie winced at that, and shook her head at him as if that wasn’t appropriate) but mostly concussions. What’s a concussion, the little girl named Ellie asked? He briefly explained a “brain bruise.”
Another wince from Sadie. He scowled back.
“Who would like a little demonstration of Lincoln’s ropin’ technique?”
A cheer from the children, and Sadie led them all outside, single file.
Lincoln set up his steer at a distance and began to pull his rope. He explained slack, technique, and don’t try this at home, boys and girls, earning him a little smile and nod from Sadie.
“That’s lame,” said Jimmy Ray. “You’re gonna lasso a wood steer? It ain’t even movin’.”
“Isn’t moving, Jimmy Ray,” Sadie corrected.
“Either way. Why don’t you lasso Miss Sadie?” he said. “Also stupid, but a little better.”
The kids seemed to love this idea. Before Sadie lost complete control of her class, Lincoln became the voice of reason.
“Not a great idea, kids. Miss Sadie isn’t a steer.”
He expected her to pipe in, and agree that first, no she wasn’t a steer. Second, the idea was ridiculous, practically a metaphor to the good ol’ days when cowboy cavemen grabbed themselves a bride. If he lassoed Sadie, word would get out that they were headed to Trinity Church.
And they were not!
Instead of protesting, she smiled at the children. “Good idea, Jimmy Ray.”
Good idea, Jimmy Ray?
No. Jimmy Ray was just like his daddy, who wouldn’t recognize a good idea if it slapped him. Lincoln cleared his throat and beckoned Sadie to come closer. He bent low to whisper in her ear.
Dear Lord, she smelled even better than before. “Not a good idea.”
“Why not?”
He scoffed. “Why not? Why not?”
“Oh, I see,” she said. “You don’t think you can do it. That’s okay.”
She was serious. Jesus. “Of course, I can do it. But you’re hardly the size of a steer, if we’re trying to be realistic.”
“What if I stand on a chair? Would that be easier?”
“Yeah, if you want to hurt yourself. Much easier.”
She crossed her arms. “I know I’m not the most graceful person alive, but even I can keep from falling off a small chair.”
So, she was going to take this personally. And the kids were getting louder, always such a great sign.
“If you want to do this, fine. But not on a chair. Walk over to the other end of the marked recess area. That should be enough of a distance.”
“Okay, kids!” Sadie held up the peace sign and got their attention. “Listen up. Our rodeo champ is going to lasso your teacher. Won’t that be fun.”
A cheer came from the kids.
Lincoln sighed. What he did for his town and its residents was practically humiliating. That does it, he told himself. This weekend he would tell Hank he was on his own for a day. He’d head out to San Antonio and find himself a buckle bunny he’d never have to see again.
He prepared his rope and did a few loops in the air to be showy. He did know how to work a crowd. The kids loved this part. He’d be home in time for lunch. Two seconds later, he’d easily lassoed Sadie to a cheer from the kids. The sweet way she smiled made him zero in on that pretty face. Those eyes. Shimmering hazel eyes.
Such a pretty girl, he noticed again. Beautiful, even. Far prettier than he remembered, since he’d sworn a vow never to give her the time of day again. Long, curvy legs and a sweet ass. She walked with a wiggle that drove him to distraction.
And she…was falling.
What?
Helpless, he watched as she tripped, an
d fell to the ground.
Shit fire! He knew this was a bad idea.
* * *
When Sadie woke, she was surrounded by the Stone Ridge Volunteer Fire Department. Brad and Lenny furrowed their brows in concern. One of them reached to adjust an ice pack which seemed to be on her head.
“Miss Sadie!” Ellie cried out. “Are you dead?”
“Dude, that was so cool,” Jimmy Ray said.
“Is there any blood?” someone else asked.
She blinked and realized…her head was in Lincoln’s lap.
I must have died and gone to heaven.
If she thought he looked amazing the day she’d found him working on his ranch, shirtless, being this close to him even fully clothed would come in a real close second. Lincoln of the square jawline, and slightly crooked nose that kept him from being too pretty. Rugged. That described Lincoln Carver. Handsome and rugged. Definitely not a pretty boy. Oh, my.
She moved and heard him say sternly, “Don’t move.”
“I’m…I really think I’m okay.”
“You’re not,” Lincoln said, sounding frustrated. His voice sounded low and deep.
“How did this happen?” Lenny asked.
“She bumped into her other foot. I saw it happen,” one of her kids said.
Dear Lord above, she’d tripped over her own feet? She hadn’t done that in…a few months, at least. These new boots were more of a heel than she normally wore. She’d ordered them online because they were so sexy. Worn them today because he was coming. And now she’d tripped, right after she’d assured Lincoln she would not fall off a chair. She couldn’t even stay upright on her own two feet!
“Oh, I’m sorry, Lincoln,” she said. “These are new boots and a higher heel. I must have lost my balance.”
“Nothin’ to be sorry about,” he said gruffly.
Now he was being too kind. He must think she was dying. “But I’m really…really okay.”
“You’re going to the hospital, missy,” Brad said, wagging a finger. “Need to get checked out. “
Lucky Cowboy Page 4
