His Little Cowgirl. Brenda Minton
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He opened the stall door and joined the little girl that barely reached his waist. Her hand came up, the gesture obvious. Cody’s heart leaped into his throat as his fingers closed around hers.
In that instant he knew he’d follow her anywhere. He’d give his life for her. And if anyone ever did to her what he’d done to her mother…
Regret twisted his stomach into knots. He couldn’t undo what he’d done to Bailey, but he could do something now. He could be a father. Or at least make his best attempt.
Doubt swirled with regret, making him wonder if he could. What if he couldn’t? What if he turned out to be his own father?
“The kittens are in there.” Meg pointed to a small corner of the barn where buckets and tools were stored. The area was dark and dusty, but a corner had been cleared out and straw put down for the new mother.
“How old are they?”
“One week. They don’t even have their eyes yet.”
Cody smiled and refrained from correcting her about the eyes. “I bet they love you.”
She shook her head. “Not yet, ’cause I can’t touch them or the momma kitten will hide them. She’s afraid they’ll get hurt.”
“Momma cats are like that.” He peeked into the corner and saw the mother cat and the four little ones.
“There’s a yellow tabby, a gray, one black cat and a calico. I like calico cats best.”
“I think I do, too.” Little fingers held tightly to his, and at the same time it felt like they were wrapping around his heart.
Meg led him from the area. “We can’t stay long or she’ll be mad.”
“We wouldn’t want to make the momma mad.”
“My mom is mad at you.”
Cody had never been fond of amusement-park rides. He could handle eight seconds on the back of a bull, but that up-and-down roller-coaster feeling was one he couldn’t hack. And this felt like a roller coaster.
“I’m sorry that she’s mad at me, Meg. Sometimes adults need time to work things out.”
He kneeled in front of his daughter. Her mouth worked her gum as she stared into his eyes. When she rested her hand on his cheek and nodded, his eyes burned and he had to blink away the film of moisture.
“I know you’re my daddy.” She nodded at that information. “My mom told me about your eyes when I was just a little kid.”
“Meg Cross, you’re about the sweetest girl in the world.” And he hoped he wouldn’t let her down.
As he was thinking of all the mistakes he could make, his daughter stepped close and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her head rested on his shoulder and he hugged her back.
He wouldn’t let her down. He wouldn’t let her grow up thinking that a dad was just the guy who sent the check each month. Whether he stayed in Gibson, or settled somewhere else, he would be a part of his daughter’s life.
The alarmed bark of Blue ripped into the moment. Cody hurried from the barn with Meg holding tightly to his hand. He scanned the yard, past his RV to the house. He saw the dog near the back porch and next to him on the ground was the still form of Jerry Cross.
Bailey didn’t feel like working. She felt like going home and being by herself. Not that she could be alone at home. And today would be worse because Cody would be there, wanting to talk.
Why in the world did he suddenly think they needed to talk things out? Had he been watching afternoon talk shows and learning about sharing feelings?
Or was it just a step in a program?
She sighed, knowing she wasn’t being fair and that God wanted her to give Cody a chance because grace was about being forgiven. She knew all about grace.
“Why do you look like someone messed with your oatmeal?” asked Lacey Gould, her black hair streaked with red, as she walked up behind Bailey, who was starting a fresh pot of coffee. The two of them had been unlikely friends for four years. They didn’t have secrets.
Lacey didn’t know who Meg’s dad was. That was something only God and Bailey’s dad knew. That was Bailey’s only secret from her friend.
“I don’t even like oatmeal.” Bailey poured herself a cup of coffee and reached for the salt shakers that needed to be refilled.
The Hash-It-Out had been busy nonstop for over an hour. Now the crowds had waned down to the regular group of farmers who gathered for mid-morning coffee and good-natured gossip.
Lacey grabbed the pepper shakers and started filling them.
“Rumor has it someone showed up yesterday driving a new truck and pulling an RV. And another rumor states that the truck and RV are still in town.”
“Rumor has it that the rumor mill in this town could grind enough wheat to feed a small country.”
“Cute. That doesn’t really make sense, but it is a little bit funny.” Lacey pulled ten dollars from her pocket and slid it across the counter top. “You had a four-top leave this the day before yesterday.”
Bailey knew better. She didn’t reach for the money. Lacey had a bad habit of trying to help by lying. She was a new Christian and her heart was as big as Texas, even if she didn’t always go about helping the right way.
“You keep it.”
“It’s yours.”
Bailey shook her head. “Good try, sweetie, but I didn’t have a four-top the other day.”
Lacey shoved the money into the front pocket of Bailey’s jeans. “Stop being a hero and let a friend help.”
The phone rang. Bailey glanced toward the hostess station and watched Jill answer. The older woman nodded and then shot a worried glance in Bailey’s direction, with her hand motioning for Bailey to join her.
“I’ll be right back.” Bailey touched Lacey’s arm as she walked toward the hostess.
“Honey, that was someone named Cody, and he said he’s taking your daddy to the hospital in Springfield.”
The floor fell out from under her. Lacey was suddenly there, her hand on Bailey’s. “Let me get someone to drive you.”
“I can drive myself.”
“No, you can’t.”
Bailey was already reaching for her purse. She managed a smile for the two women. “I can drive myself. Could you let Jolynn know that I had to leave?”
“Sure thing, sweetie, but are you sure you’re okay to drive yourself?”
Bailey nodded as she walked away from Jill’s question. At that moment she wasn’t sure about much of anything.
In a daze she walked out the door and across the parking lot, barely noticing the heat and just registering that someone shouted hello. Numb, she felt so numb, and so cold.
It took her a few tries to get the truck started. She pumped the gas, praying hard that the stupid thing wouldn’t let her down, not now. As the engine roared to life she whispered a quiet thank-you.
Springfield was a good thirty-minute drive, and of course she got behind every slow car on the road and always in a no-passing zone. Her heart raced and her hands were shaking. What if she didn’t make it on time? What if this was the end? She couldn’t think about losing her dad, not yet, not now when she needed him so much.
“What if he’s gone and I don’t get to say goodbye?” She whispered into the silent cab of the truck, blinking away the sting of tears.
She couldn’t think of her dad not being in her life. He had always been there for her. He had been the one