Her Secret Cowboy. Marin Thomas

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      One month had turned into two then three and before she knew it, a year had passed since Buck’s visit and she still hadn’t found the courage to contact Will. The news that her father had stopped fighting his cancer had forced Marsha to confront the past head-on.

      Marsha understood the risks in coming clean with Will after she’d gone against his wishes to keep their child. He’d been adamant that he wasn’t ready to be a father. And she hadn’t been ready to be a mother, but the conscience of a pastor’s daughter refused to allow her to abort a baby or let her father go to his grave without knowing who’d gotten her pregnant.

      Ryan turned the page on his Kindle, then asked, “What are you gonna do all summer?”

      “I’m working as an online tutor for the University of Southern California,” she reminded him. Marsha taught high-school chemistry and had completed her doctoral degree a year ago and hoped to work her way into a teaching position at a university.

      “Does Grandma still have her library card?”

      “I’m sure she does.” Her mother paid extra for a membership to the Yuma County Library so Ryan had plenty of reading material to keep him entertained. In exchange for the use of the library card, Ryan helped his grandmother in the church garden.

      Even though she’d taken precautions by never telling Buck when she was in town and avoiding cowboy hangouts and local rodeos, Marsha was surprised that she’d managed to avoid running into Will or his siblings during her two-week visits home.

      She slowed the car as it approached the four-way stop in Stagecoach. The town was comprised of a handful of businesses, their brick exteriors faded by the desert sun. The main drag consisted of bars, Vern’s Drive-In, the Pawn Palace, Mel’s Barber Shop, the Bee Luv Lee Beauty Salon, where Marsha’s former high-school friend worked, José’s Mexican Diner, a Chevron gas station and a Wells Fargo Savings and Loan.

      “Not much has changed since last summer,” she said.

      Ryan grunted, but didn’t glance up from his e-reader.

      She hoped she wasn’t making a huge mistake introducing Ryan to his father. Unlike her son, Will hadn’t cared much about school or grades. She worried that instead of seeing all the special qualities Ryan possessed, Will would find him lacking.

      “Can we go to the library tomorrow?” Ryan asked.

      “I’ve got plans.”

      “What are you doing?”

      “Meeting an old friend of mine.”

      “Who?”

      “A boy I went to high school with.” She turned onto the gravel road that led to the Mission Community Church. A quarter mile later she parked in front of her parents’ stucco ranch house, which sat fifty yards from the church. “Grandma’s waiting at the door.”

      Marsha turned off the car, and they both got out. “Leave the luggage for now.”

      “Look at you, Ryan,” Sara Bugler exclaimed. “You’ve grown at least two inches since you were here last.”

      Ryan hugged his grandmother. “I’m taller than Mom now.”

      “Yes, you are.”

      “You look good, Mom.” They exchanged hugs. “Where’s Dad?”

      “He fell asleep on the patio.” Her mother led the way through the house. “Jim, Marsha and Ryan are here.”

      His face gaunt, her father sat in a lounge chair with the newspaper folded in his lap. She held his hands and kissed his cheek. “How are you, Dad?”

      “Fine, daughter.” His eyes sparkled when he held his arms out to Ryan.

      Marsha’s throat tightened as she watched the two men in her life hug.

      “I’ve got a new word game we can play, Grandpa,” Ryan said.

      “Good. I was getting tired of beating you at the old one.”

      No matter what happened between her and Will, Marsha refused to regret spending the next two and a half months with her parents.

      “Come in the house, dear.” Marsha followed her mother inside while Ryan remained with his grandfather. “What can I get you to drink?”

      “Iced tea if you have it,” Marsha said.

      Her mother poured two glasses of tea and sat at the kitchen table. After a brief conversation on how Ryan had done in school this past semester and Marsha’s tutoring job, her mother said, “You haven’t spent an entire summer here since you graduated from high school.”

      “I don’t know how fast Dad’s cancer is going to progress and I...” She blinked back tears. “I want him and Ryan to have as much time together as possible.”

      “I’m not sure it’s a good idea for you two to stay so long.”

      “Why? Are you concerned we might be too taxing on Dad?”

      “No, your father is thrilled you’re here.”

      “Then what are you worried about?”

      Her mother stared at the wall instead of answering.

      “You’re acting weird, Mom. What’s going on?”

      “Did I tell you that the church is getting a new classroom wing built this summer?”

      “You did. What does that have to do with me and Ryan?”

      “Ben Wallace’s construction company won the bid.”

      Marsha had gone to school with Ben. “And that’s important because...?”

      “Will Cash works for Ben.”

      Oh, God. She knows. “Does Dad...”

      Her mother sighed. “Don’t think for a minute I haven’t beaten myself up over the years and had many heart-to-heart talks with the Lord about keeping your secret.”

      “Why haven’t you told Dad?”

      “I worry how he’ll take the news.”

      “I was planning to introduce Ryan to Will this visit.” Her mother gasped and Marsha held up her hand. “Hear me out. Dad’s the only male role model in Ryan’s life right now. If—” when “—something happens to Dad, Ryan’s going to need a man to lean on.”

      “Will Cash isn’t a suitable role model for Ryan.”

      This was why Marsha had never told her parents who’d fathered Ryan. As much as Sara and Jim Bugler were God-fearing people and had raised her to show empathy and compassion for the less fortunate, Marsha had grown up hearing her parents’ occasional comments about Will’s promiscuous mother, Aimee Cash, and the wild band of ruffians she handed over to her parents to raise while she gallivanted through the state sleeping with men.

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