A Cowboy's Heart. Brenda Minton
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doesn’t have a thing to worry about, does she, Willow? We’ll be here to help Clint with the boys until she can make it home.”
Willow smiled at the boys again. Just little boys, and they were going to have to say goodbye to their mother. She’d been ten when her parents sent her away, forcing her to leave their home in Europe and attend a special school in the States.
She knew how hard it was to let go of what was familiar. She also knew that Jenna’s heart had to be breaking, because nothing hurt a mother worse than letting go of a child.
“Of course we’ll help.” Willow ignored Clint, because she couldn’t look into his eyes. She couldn’t acknowledge, not even to herself, how hard this was going to be.
Janie smiled, her brown eyes soft. Janie knew.
Time to escape. Willow ruffled the blond hair of the smaller boy, and he looked up at her, gray eyes seeking something, probably answers. She didn’t have any. She could pray, but a child didn’t want to hear that, because he wouldn’t understand what God could do. At his age, the little guy just wanted his mom to stay with him.
“I need to get my shoes and get some work done.” Willow smiled at Jenna, who seemed unsure and probably needed reassurance. “Don’t worry about the boys, or Clint. We have plenty of room here.”
“Thank you.” And then Jenna hugged her.
“I’m sure we’ll see you before you go.” Willow pulled away, from Jenna and the situation. “Boys, remember, stay out of the pens.”
Clint started to follow her, but she stopped him. “I can handle this. You spend time with your sister.”
“You’re sure?”
Positive. What she needed was time alone, to think about how her life had just changed. What she didn’t need was Clint Cameron invading space she had carved out for herself. And what she couldn’t do was look into his gray eyes, eyes like those of his nephews, but seeing so much more.
A few hours later Jenna drove down the road, and Clint could only pray that God would keep her safe. Janie had the boys, feeding them cookies and drying their tears. He was going in search of Willow to see if she needed help with anything, and knowing she would probably say that she didn’t. She had a way of handling things.
Country music blared from the office at the end of the barn. Clint peeked around the corner of the office door. She wasn’t there. An empty soda can sat on her desk, along with the wrapper from a chocolate bar, more than one. He smiled, thinking of her sitting there with music blaring, eating chocolate. What did that do for women?
So much for the calm, cool facade that she’d fooled them with in the bull-riding world. He now knew her weakness. Ms. Calm-Cool-and-Collected ate chocolate and didn’t like to share her personal space.
That knowledge didn’t help him out a bit. He was definitely in her personal space, and with no way out.
He found her in the arena, standing on a platform above a bull and strapping a training dummy to his back while she talked into the headset of her cell phone. Her brows drew together, and her lips tightened into a frown.
Obviously bad news.
He approached from her side, making sure she knew he was heading her way. She nodded and turned away, maybe to open the chute for the bull, maybe to avoid him. The gate on the chute opened, and the bull turned to face out, encouraged by the woman above his chute. A teenager, slight, and quick on his feet, stood in the arena, keeping the bull in a spin.
“Looks good. How old?” Clint leaned against the post next to Willow.
Her hand slid up her ear.
“I’m sorry?” She smiled.
“The bull looks good. How old is he?”
“He’s two. I’m not sure if he’s going to make it. He doesn’t like to buck.”
“Do you need my help? I can open the gate, strap on the dummy?”
A pointed look at his shoulder. “I don’t think you should.”
“Got it.” Help not needed. He had to find his place here. He had to apologize. “I’m sorry about the boys this morning.”
“They were being boys, Clint. They’re fine.” She leaned against the rail of the scaffolding next to the chute where the next bull was waiting. Her expression softened, because it was about two little boys. “How are they, though?”
“They’re okay.” He remembered their tears when Jenna left, and his own. They were all fine. And scared. “At least they’re here with me. We’ll get through.”
“If I can help…”
“You have.”
Another one of those looks he didn’t understand, and shadows in her blue eyes that could probably convince a man that she needed to be held. But he knew better than to step into her life. There was a world of difference between them.
She was designer clothes and gourmet meals. He was fast food and the clearance rack at Wal-Mart. And he liked his life. For the moment he looked a lot happier with this discount life than she looked with her top-drawer existence.
She turned away from him to watch the bull come out of the chute and then she shook her head. “Brian, run him through the gate, and we’ll get him something to eat. Bring Wooly in next.”
“Willow, if I’m going to live here, I really want to help out.”
“Have you been to the doctor yet?” She shot a pointed look at his shoulder, his arm still in a sling.
“Not yet. It’s an injury I’ve had before, and I know what to do.”
“So, you’ll be ready to ride bulls at the next event. Or are you going to call and let them know that you’ll be a no-show.”
“You know I can’t do that and stay on tour.”
“Then go to the doctor. If you can’t afford…”
“I can afford it.”
He sure didn’t need insults and charity.
“I’m sorry.” She picked up the training dummy that Brian had tossed onto the platform and leaned to put it on the new bull. “We’ll work together. I don’t know specific jobs to give you. I know each day what I need to get done. And if something unexpected comes up, I fit it into my schedule. I guess we start with you helping us with feeding time.”
Her phone rang and she smiled an apology and stepped away from him. At least now he knew how he stood, at the ranch, and in her world. He was one of the unexpected things she was fitting into her life.
“I’m sorry, I can’t hear you.” Willow walked away, knowing that Clint wasn’t the kind of guy to purposely listen in on a conversation, but knowing that if he heard, he would have questions.
The caller on the other end apologized for the bad connection. She closed her eyes, wishing it really was a problem with the phone. But the bad connection had nothing to do with cell service.
She glanced in Clint’s direction and saw him talking to Brian. Distracted, she had to gather her thoughts and listen to the caller as he told her something about a bull she had for sale.
“Sir, could you call me back on my home phone? Or perhaps e-mail.” She held her breath, praying he’d say yes and wondering if God heard such selfish prayers.
It wasn’t selfish, not really. Because God did understand her fear. She’d talked to Him about it quite a bit lately.
“I’ll e-mail.” The caller came through clearly for a moment, and she thanked him. She needed a break, a real break, the kind that meant things going smoothly for a few days.
Just a few days, time to gather herself and