A Cowboy's Heart. Brenda Minton
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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