A Cowboy's Heart Page 3

  Before the rain hit, she needed to feed her animals. Cattle and horses were waiting and the bulls were bellowing from their pens because they knew it was breakfast time. She opened the feed-room door and stepped inside. The tabby cat that lived in the barn scooted inside and sniffed around in the corners of the room, looking for mice.

  Willow grabbed a fifty-pound bag of grain off the pile and carried it out of the room. As she lifted, preparing to drop it into the back of the truck, Clint stepped through the open double doors of the barn and walked toward her.

  She dropped the bag of grain into the back and returned to the feed room. When she stepped out with another bag, he was leaning against the side of her truck.

  “Need some help?”

  Willow tossed the second bag of grain. “I’ve got it. And I think it’s probably better if you give your shoulder a couple of weeks to heal.”

  “Yeah, probably.” He moved away from her truck. “Willow, I’m not trying to take over or anything. Janie told me you might need some help around here, and I’m a pretty good hand. If you don’t need help…”

  He tilted his head to one side, a soft look in eyes that were more the color of the ocean—gray with a hint of green—rather than just a shade of gray.

  She shrugged. “A kid from down the road helps out sometimes. There are times when I can use more help.”

  “Hey, that’s cool. I need to get work done on my own place, so I don’t want full-time work right now.” He moved away from her truck. “I wanted to see if you had some tools I could borrow.”

  “Tools.”

  He nodded. “To borrow.”

  “Yes, I know, I heard.” She sighed, pushing down the insecurity his presence brought out in her. “Tell me what you need and I’ll find them for you.”

  “It looks like rain, so I thought I’d pull a tarp over a section of the roof of my place. There are a couple of spots that look like they might leak.”

  “How are you going to climb a ladder?”

  “I can handle it.”

  “I can give you a ride to your place.” Willow pointed to a toolbox in the corner of the feed room. “See if I have what you need.”

  As he dug through the tools, she finished loading the grain. He stepped back out of the feed room and set the metal box in the back of her truck with a brown-paper bag of nails left over from one of her own repair jobs.

  “You’ve done a lot with this place. When did you build this barn?” He leaned against the side of her truck, his baseball cap pushed back, giving her full view of his eyes. Eyes that flashed with a smile that for a moment put her at ease.

  “I had the barn built two years ago. The fences—” white vinyl that always looked clean “—we put up last year.”

  “It looks good.” He was smiling, and then he laughed a little. “Just seems like an odd choice.”

  “White vinyl fences?” She smiled, because she knew what he meant. Some men had a problem, a hang-up, with a woman raising bucking bulls.

  “No, you, here, raising bulls. I seem to remember that you grew up in Europe.”

  That was part of the story. She didn’t feel the need to tell him everything. She closed the door to the feed room and turned to face him.

  “I did, other than a few summer visits to see Janie, but I love living in the country. And I love raising these bulls.”

  “I can help you feed before you run me over to my place.”

  “If you want, you can help.” She walked to the driver’s side of the truck. When she got in, he was opening the door on the passenger’s side. “Did one of those guys drive your truck home this morning?”

  “My neighbor, Jason Bradshaw’s sister, drove it home.”

  She nodded, her gaze settling on his shoulder. “Do you need to see a doctor?”

  “No, I know the drill. It’ll be sore a few days, and then it won’t.”

  She shifted into first gear and eased away from the barn. Her bulls were in the field behind the building. She had smaller pens for her “problem children” and a pen for calves that were being weaned. The cows that were expecting she kept in the main pasture with her horses.

  Brad had done one thing for her in their divorce that she hadn’t had in their marriage. He’d given her freedom in the form of a hefty divorce settlement. For the first time in her life she was her own person. Other than Janie’s motherly advice, no one told her what to do. Not anymore. No one made decisions for her.

  There was no one to walk out on her.

  “I’m impressed with what you’ve done here, but I guess I still don’t get it. You could have raised horses.”

  “I could have done something safe?” She smiled at the hint of red coloring his cheeks. “Years ago I went to a bull ride with Aunt Janie. I’ve been hooked ever since. It just seemed like the right choice.”

  It made her feel strong.

  “It seems to fit you.”

  She smiled at the compliment.

  “Thank you.” She eased the truck through the gate of the first pen and stopped. “I’ll get in the back of the truck and feed, if you can drive? Just ease down this lane next to the fence and stop at the feeders.”

  “I can do that.”

  As she slid out of the truck, he moved across the seat behind the wheel. She climbed into the back of the truck and used a pocketknife to slit the top of a bag of grain. As the truck slowed and pulled close to the feeder, she dumped the grain and the cows trotted forward, ready for breakfast.

  The rain started to fall just as they were finishing. Willow jumped down from the back of the truck and climbed into the passenger side. Rain dripped from her hat and she rubbed her arms to chase away the chill. Clint reached for the heater and turned it up a few degrees.

  “Wow, this is going to be bad.” She looked up at the dark clouds rolling across the Oklahoma sky. “And you have a leaky roof.”

  “I do at that.”

  So softly spoken, she barely caught the words. For the past few months she’d been telling herself it was her imagination. But now she needed to face the truth. Words were fuzzy, and there were times that she couldn’t hear a conversation on her cell phone, or even a person at her side.

  Progressive hearing loss, the doctor had told them so many years ago. In the beginning it had been so mild, no one noticed, not really. Sometimes kids don’t listen, that’s how they had interpreted her behavior.

  Progressive, but for years the change had been gradual, nearly unnoticeable. Now the changes to her hearing were very noticeable.

  Why now?

  She closed her eyes, and when she opened them, he was watching. Willow managed a smile and nodded in the direction of the house.

  “We’ll go in and have a cup of tea with Janie. Maybe the rain will stop.”

  “Sounds good.” He pulled the truck to a stop in front of the long, log-sided ranch house.

  Rain poured down, drenching them as they hurried up the steps to the covered front porch. Janie opened the door, handing them each a towel.

  “Dry your hair.”

  Willow took off her hat and wiped her face and then ran the towel through her hair. “We were on our way to fix Clint’s roof.”

  Thunder crashed and the rain shifted, blowing onto the porch. Janie opened the door and motioned them inside. With the rain hitting the metal roof of the porch, it was impossible to hear.

  Inside the rain was muffled, and ceiling fans brushed cooler air through the room. Willow shivered again.

  “Clint will have to stay in the foreman’s house.” Janie pointed for them to wipe their feet on the rug. “When it stops raining, Willow can take you over to get your stuff.”

  “I have a house, Janie.”

  “You can’t live in that place. The roof leaks, the porch is falling in and it’ll be weeks before the power company gets out to run new lines.” Janie shot Willow a look, one that made her wish she could glance away and not hear what her aunt was about to say. “Tell him to stay, Willow. You need the help, and
he can’t live in that house.”

  Willow sat down on the old church pew Janie had bought from an antique store. She kicked off her boots and slid them under the seat. Standing across from her, Clint held on to the door frame and pulled off his boots.

  “The foreman’s house is in good shape. Janie even keeps it clean. The furniture isn’t the best…”

  “I’m not worried about the furniture.”

  Janie smiled. “There, it’s all settled.”

  “Right.” Willow smiled, hoping that was a good enough answer. But it changed everything. It put Clint Cameron firmly in her life.

  She followed her aunt into the kitchen, lured by the smell of coffee and something baking in the oven. Clint followed.

  Janie continued to talk as she washed a few dishes. Willow poured herself a cup of coffee and listened, but she knew she was missing pieces of the conversation. The plan included Clint at the ranch in the foreman’s house, and Willow letting him help with the bulls, and with the driving when they went out of town.

  Clint, his stance casual as he leaned against the kitchen counter, shot Willow an apologetic smile. When Janie turned away for a brief moment, he signed that he was sorry. And she didn’t know what to do with that gesture, that moment.

  It wasn’t easy, to smile, to let it go. After all of this time, building a new life, his presence made her feel vulnerable, weak.

  Weak in a way that settled in her knees and made her want to tell him secrets on a summer night. She sighed and walked out of the room, away from gray eyes that distracted and away from the memories of long-forgotten dreams.

  Clint set his tea glass on the table. He didn’t want to follow Willow Michaels out the door, but he couldn’t let her walk away. This was the pattern of his life. There had been the cheerleader in high school who had been hiding abuse with a smile, and he’d found her crying. The girl down the road who had been planning to run away from home when she found out she was pregnant.

  He followed Willow to the hall where she was putting her boots back on. She looked up, mascara smeared from the rain and her hair hanging over her shoulders, still damp. She smiled as he sat down next to her.

  “I’m not trying to hijack your life.” He signed as he whispered, because he didn’t want Janie to overhear and misinterpret.

  “I know.” She pulled on her second boot and sat back. “I just need for you to know that I’m not incapable of doing this by myself. I don’t mind you living here, or even helping out.”

  “I know that.” He glanced at his watch. “I have to visit my dad. But I need to talk to you about something.”

  “Follow me out to the barn. I need to check on a young bull that I have there. He has a cut on his leg. I think he got into some old barbed wire.”

  He nodded and reached for his boots. As he put them on, Willow walked into the kitchen. He could hear her telling Janie that she was going to check on a bull, and then she’d drive him back to his place to get his truck.

  A few minutes later they walked out the door. The sun was peeking out from behind clouds, and the rain had slowed to a mist. The breeze caught the sweet scent of wild roses, and it felt good to be home.

  The dog, Bell, ran from the barn and circled them, stopping right in front of Willow before rolling over to have her belly rubbed. Willow leaned to pet the animal and then she turned her attention back to him.

  “So, what did you need to talk about?”

  “My nephews.”

  “You have nephews?”

  “Twins, they’re four years old.” He stopped, rubbing a shoulder that hurt like crazy, thanks to the rain and sleeping on the floor. “My sister is being sent to Iraq.”

  “Clint, I’m sorry.” Her voice was soft, her accent something indiscernible with only a hint of Oklahoma.

  “She wants me to take them while she’s gone.”

  Her gaze drifted away from him, and she nodded. Shadows flickered in her eyes and he wondered what put them there? Him? The boys? Something from her own life? What made a woman like her give up everything and move to Oklahoma?

  Maybe she’d found what she was looking for here, with Janie, and cattle? He could understand that. He’d lived in cities, small towns, and here, on land that had been in his family for nearly one hundred years. He preferred this place to any other.

  “It won’t be easy,” she spoke in quiet tones, “for any of you.”

  “No, it won’t. But I wanted to make sure it’s okay with you. Now there will be me and two little boys underfoot.”

  She smiled. “Of course it’s okay. We’ll do whatever we can to help you out.”

  “I appreciate that.” He headed for the barn, following her, and still wondering what had put the shadows in her eyes.

  But he didn’t have time to think about it, to worry about it. He had to think about his dad, and now about Jenna and the boys.

  Chapter Three

  Clint walked through the halls of the nursing home, not at all soothed by the green walls that were probably meant to keep people calm. Even with his dad here and in bad health, Clint still felt like the kid that never knew what to expect. That came from years of conditioning. His dad had been the kind of drunk that could be happy and boisterous one minute, and angry enough to hurt someone the next.

  As much as he wanted to convince himself that the past didn’t matter, it did. And forgiving mattered, too. Forgiving was something a person decided to do.

  He’d made his decision a long time ago. He’d made his decision on his knees at the front of the little country church he’d gone to as a kid. He’d found faith, grabbing hold of promises that made sense when nothing else had.

  But being back here brought back a ton of feelings, memories of being the kid in school who never had a new pair of jeans or a pair of shoes without holes. He’d always been the kid whose parents didn’t show up for programs or games.

  He reminded himself that he wasn’t that kid. Not now. He had moved on. He had finished college. He had worked his way up in the sport of bull riding. He hadn’t made a lot of money, but at least he had something to show for his life.

  His attention returned to the halls of the nursing home, sweet old people sitting in chairs next to the doors to their rooms, hoping that someone would stop and say hello. A few of them spoke, remembering him from a long time ago, or from his visit last week.

  His own father sometimes remembered him, and sometimes didn’t.

  “Well, there you are.” Today was a day his dad remembered.

  “Dad, how are you?” Clint grabbed the handles of the wheel-chair and pushed his dad into the room.

  “I didn’t say I wanted to come in here.”

  “I don’t want to stand in the hall.” Clint sat on the bed with the quilted bedspread and raggedy stuffed elephant that one of Jenna’s boys had left for their granddad, even though their granddad rarely acknowledged their presence.

  “So, did you find a job?” his dad quizzed as his trembling hand reached for a glass of water.

  Clint picked up the glass and filled it from the pitcher on the table. He eased it into his dad’s hand. It was full and a little sloshed out. Clint wiped it up with a napkin and sat back down on the bed.

  “I have a job. I’m a bull rider. And I’m going to work for Janie.”

  “That old woman? Why would you work for her?”

  Clint glanced out the small window that let in dim afternoon light shadowed by the dark clouds of another storm. He had to shrug off his dad’s comments, the same comments he’d always made about Janie.

  There were questions Clint would like to ask now. Did his dad really dislike Janie, or was he just embarrassed that her money had put food on their table and clothes on their backs? He breathed deep and let go of the anger.

  Too many years had gone by to remind his father of that time, and to hurt him with the truth that would have sounded like accusations. He stood and walked to the window. Behind him his dad coughed.

  “I could use a drink.�
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  Clint shrugged but didn’t turn away from the window, and the view of someone’s hayfield. A tractor sat abandoned in the middle of the field, half the hay cut and the other half still standing. Something must have broken on the tractor. Not that it mattered. But for a moment he needed to think about something other than the past, and his dad still needing a drink, even with his liver failing.

  “Where’s your sister? Is she home from school yet?”

  His dad had slipped into the past, too.

  Clint turned, shaking his head as he sat down on the bed. It was easy to forgive a man who was broken. The surprising thing was that he even felt compassion.

  “Dad, Jenna is in Missouri. She’s going to Iraq.”

  “Why would she do that?”

  “She’s in the Army.” He took the water glass from his dad and set it on the table. “Dad, do you remember? Jenna is twenty-seven. She has two little boys.”

  “She shouldn’t have had them without a father. She should have married that boy.”

  “He didn’t ask.” Clint had to fight back a remaining shard of anger over that situation. The ramblings of an old man he could overlook. The past could be forgiven. His sister being hurt, that was something he still had to work on.

  “What’s your sister going to do with those boys?”

  “I’m going to take care of them.”

  His dad laughed. “You? How are you going to take care of two little boys? Do you even have a job, other than working for Janie?”

  “I’m helping her niece with the bucking bulls she raises.”

  His dad’s eyes widened at that and then narrowed as he smiled. “Are you in love with her? I imagine she’s way out of your league.”

  How could one conversation reduce him from grown man to a sixteen-year-old kid teaching the judge’s daughter to ride the horse she’d gotten for her birthday? Way out of your league must have been the statement that took him back.

  “No, Dad, I’m not in love with Willow Michaels. She needs help, and I need a job.”