Читать книгу A Cowboy's Heart - Brenda Minton - Страница 9

In the midnight-black of the truck, lit only with the red-and-orange glow from the dash, Willow nudged at the cowboy sleeping in the seat next to her. They’d driven the two hours from Tulsa and were getting close to the ranch. Janie hadn’t helped. She had fallen asleep shortly after they’d taken off.

“Wake up.” She nudged Clint again, careful to hit his ribs, not the arm held against his chest with a sling. “Do you have a key to get into this place?”

He stirred, brushed a hand through hair that wasn’t long enough to get messy and then yawned. He blinked a few times and looked at her like he couldn’t quite remember who she was.

“Willow Michaels, remember? We offered you a ride home?”

He nodded and then he shook his head. “I don’t know.”

She didn’t hear the rest because he yawned and covered his mouth. Moments like this were not easy for her, not in the dark cab of a truck, not with someone she didn’t really know.

He said something else that she didn’t catch. Willow sighed because it wasn’t fair, and she didn’t want to have this conversation with him.

This kind of insecurity belonged to a ten-year-old girl saying goodbye to her parents and wondering why they no longer wanted her with them. And always assuming that it was because her hearing loss embarrassed them.

He said something else that she didn’t catch.

“Clint, you have to talk more clearly. I can’t see you, and I don’t know what you’re saying.”

There, it was said, and she’d survived. But it ached deep down, where her confidence should have been but wasn’t.

He looked at her, his smile apologetic as he reached to turn on the overhead light. The dim glow undid her calm, because the look in his eyes touched something deep inside. Wow, she really wanted to believe in fairy tales.

SORRY.

And when he signed the word, his hand a fist circling over his chest, she didn’t know how to react. But she recognized what she felt—unnerved and taken by surprise. When was the last time a cowboy had taken her by surprise?

She cleared her throat and nodded. And then she answered, because he was waiting.

“It isn’t your fault. It’s dark, and you didn’t know.”

How did he know sign language, and how did he know that it made hearing him so much easier? Even with hearing aids, being in the dark made understanding a muffled voice difficult—especially with the diesel engine of the truck.

“I know it isn’t my fault, but I should have thought.” He shifted in the seat, turning to face her as he spoke. “I’m sorry, I’m not quite awake.”

“About the house?”

“I don’t need a key to the house.”

“Aunt Janie, you should wake up now.” Willow downshifted as they drove through the small almost-town that they lived near. Grove was another fifteen miles farther down the road, but it was easier to say they were from Grove than to give the name of a town with no population and no dot on the map. Dawson, population 10, on a good day. The town boasted a feed store and, well, nothing else.

“Janie, wake up.” Willow leaned to look at her aunt.

Janie snorted but then started to snore again. The vibration of Clint’s laughter shook the seat. Willow shot him a look, and then she smiled. He had used sign language—that meant she had to give him a break.

She was still trying to wrap her mind around that fact. It had been a long time since someone had done something like that for her. Something unexpected.

“Where did you learn sign language?”

He shrugged. “I picked it up in college. I have a teaching degree, and I thought sign language would be a great second language. Everyone else was studying Spanish, French or German.”

He signed as he spoke, and Willow nodded. She reached to shift again as the speed limit decreased.

“I’m rusty, so you’ll have to excuse me if I say the wrong thing.”

“You’re fine.” And the sooner she dropped him off at the little house surrounded by weeds and rusted-out trucks, the sooner she could get back to her world and to thoughts that were less confusing.

The driveway to his place was barely discernable, just a dirt path mixed in with weeds and one broken reflector to show where it was safe to turn. She slowed, not sure what to do. The trailer hooked to her truck jolted a little as the vehicle decelerated and the bulls shifted, restless for home.

“Don’t pull in. You won’t be able to turn the truck.”

She agreed with him on that. She didn’t have a desire to get stuck or to have a flat tire. Not with a load of homesick bulls in a stock trailer hooked to the back of her truck.

“But what are you going to do about tonight? Do you even have electricity?”

“I dropped off flashlights and a few other necessities this morning. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.” In the light of the cab he had stopped signing, but he spoke facing her.

The snoring from the far side of the cab had stopped. Aunt Janie sat up, yawning. “Clint, don’t tell me you plan on staying here tonight?”

“There isn’t that much night left, Janie. I’ll be fine. Take Willow home, and get some rest. She’s got to be tired after the day you two put in.”

“You’ve had a long day, too.” Willow pushed aside something that felt like anger, but maybe came from leftover feelings of inadequacy.

It had more to do with the past than with the present. It had to do with Brad telling their limo driver to take her home while he went into town, to a party that would have been too stressful for her to attend.

Alone. She’d always been at home alone. And she’d been sent away when she failed to meet expectations. The past, she reminded herself. It was all in the past and God had restored her life, showing her that she didn’t belong in a corner alone.

She mattered to God. He had given her an inner peace and the ability to believe in herself.

“You’re right about that.” He stood in the open door, holding Janie’s hand as she got back into the truck. “You two have a good night. See you tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. When he would invade her life. Willow couldn’t really thank him for that, not if he was going to be another person who found it easy to believe her hearing loss meant she couldn’t take care of herself.

Clint woke up after a short few hours of sleep, stiff and sore, his arm throbbing against his chest. He rolled over on the sleeping bag and stared out the cobweb-covered window, so dirty that it might as well have had a curtain covering it. His savings account had seemed more than enough until he got a good look at this place.

Six months since his last visit home and two years since he’d been in this house. It looked like the dust had been there since then, or before. Not to mention his dad’s old truck, tires flat and the frame rusting, growing weeds at the side of the house.

His dad had moved to a house in town two years earlier, and then to the nursing home. It hadn’t been easy, putting him there, knowing he needed full-time care.

Clint’s phone rang, and he reached for it, dragging it to his ear as he flipped it open. His sister said a soft hello.

“You sound bad. Do you look bad?” She laughed when he groaned an answer.

“Other than a dislocated shoulder, I had a great night.”

“Sounds like fun. I’m sorry I missed it.”

“Wait until you come down for a visit. Janie is still Janie. And her niece is living here.”

“The one that used to visit in the summer?”

“The one and only.”

“Is she still beautiful?” She was determined to see him married off.

“If you like tall, blond and gorgeous, she’s okay.” He rubbed his hand across his face, trying to rub the sleep away. “She isn’t my type.”

“Have you ever found your type?”

“Nope. I’m happily single.”

“I don’t think so, brother dear. I think you need a woman to soften your rough edges. You need someone who will take care of you, the way you’ve taken care of everyone else.”

“I don’t have rough edges. So, what’s up, Sis?”

He knew there was more to this call. He thought he might need to sit up, because the tone of her voice, even with the laughter, hinted at bad news. Holding the phone with his ear, he pushed himself up with his right hand and then slid back against the box of supplies he left here yesterday.

“What’s up, Jen?”

A long pause and he thought he heard her sob. He didn’t hear the boys, his twin nephews, in the background. His stomach tightened.

“Time to put our Family Action Plan into place. I’m going to Iraq.”

Not that. He could have prepared himself for almost anything, but not the thought of his kid sister in Iraq. And the boys, just four years old, without a mom. He couldn’t think about that, either. They had discussed it some. He had just convinced himself it wouldn’t come to this—to her leaving and the boys in his care.

“Clint, I need for you to take the boys.”

“You know I will. But there has to be someone better for them than me, an uncle who rides bulls for a living and who’s camping in a house without electricity.” For the moment.

“You’re it. You’re my only family, their only family. You knew this could happen.”

“I want to make sure this is the best thing for them, that I’m the best thing.”

“You were the best for me.”

He closed his eyes, wishing he had been the best for her, and that he’d been able to give her more. He’d done his best. They both knew that.

“When?”

“I have to leave for Texas in five days. I’ve known for a while, but I guess I was hoping that something would happen and I wouldn’t have to leave them.” She sobbed into the phone. “Clint, they’re my babies.”

“I know, Jen. And you know I’ll take care of them.”

“If something happens…”

“We’re not going to discuss that. But you know I love them and I’m going to take care of them until you get home.”

She was crying, hundreds of miles away at a base in Missouri. She was crying, and he couldn’t make it better. Sleeping under this roof, in this room, he remembered the other nights she had cried, when they had been kids, and he’d sneaked in to comfort her, to promise he’d make it better.

He had prayed, and she had doubted God even existed.

“I can’t make this better, Jen.”

“You do make it better.” She sniffled, her tears obviously over. “Clint, the Army has been good for me, you know that. And I’m ready to go. I know that I have to go.”

“But it won’t be easy.”

“It’s easier knowing that you’ll have Timmy and David.”

“Do you want to bring them here, or should I come to you?”

A long pause, and he heard the sob she tried to swallow. “I want to see Dad before I go.”

He looked out the dirt-covered window at the tree branch scraping against the glass, forced into movement by the wind. “Yes, you should see him. And it would probably be better for them if you got them settled here.”

“I’ll be down in two days,” she whispered, and he knew she was crying. And he felt a lot like he might cry, too.

How was he going to let his little sister go to war, and how was he going to take care of two four-year-old boys? And then there was Willow, added by Janie to the list of people who needed his help.

Covered with dust and bits of hay, Willow walked to the door of the barn to see what the dog, Bell, was barking at. Of course it was Clint Cameron walking down the drive, a tall figure in faded jeans and a blue-gray T-shirt. A baseball cap shaded his face and his arm was still in a sling. She shook her head. Cowboys.

She brushed her hands through her hair and shook the hem of her shirt to rid herself of the hay that had dropped down her neck. Clint didn’t spot her. As he walked up the steps to the house, Willow turned back into the barn.

She tossed a few more bales of hay into the back of her truck and cut the wires that held them together. A quick glance at the sky confirmed her suspicions that a spring storm was heading their way. The temperature had dropped ten degrees, dark clouds loomed on the horizon and the leaves of the trees had turned, exposing the underside. A sure sign of rain.

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.