The Cowboy's Homecoming. Brenda Minton

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      She brushed across the horse’s back and then down his back legs. “He’ll be ready.”

      “You’re as stubborn as your dad. Maybe Jeremy has met his match.”

      “What about Jeremy?” This voice boomed. The horse jumped a little to the side.

      Beth bit down on her bottom lip and then flashed a smile, as if she hadn’t been talking about anything important. “Nothing, Dad.”

      “Right, nothing. I saw you racing up the drive on that horse. Where have you been?”

      Her dad walked a little closer. She stood straight, the brush in her hand, and faced him. She’d been backing down all of her life and she couldn’t be that person anymore.

      “I went to talk to Jeremy Hightree about the church. I have to stop him from tearing it down.”

      The harsh lines around her dad’s mouth softened and he looked away, but not before she saw the sorrow. It still felt like yesterday. Shouldn’t it be different? Shouldn’t eighteen years soften the pain? She’d been without her mother longer than she’d been with her. There were times that her mother’s smile was a vague memory. And more times that she couldn’t remember at all.

      But her dad missed Elena Bradshaw more than all of them. And missing her meant he disliked Back Street Church as much as Jeremy.

      “Dad, she loved that church.” Beth had never been brave enough to say it, to put it out in the open. This was the new Beth Bradshaw, the woman who took control. The woman who wasn’t afraid. Much.

      Her dad raised a hand and turned away, his profile a dark shadow against the bright, outside light. She’d always thought of him as the strongest man in the world. What little girl didn’t think that way? As a child she’d tried to match her steps to his. She’d always tried to please him. She had never wanted to hurt him.

      “Please, Dad, we have to stop him.”

      He shook his head and walked out the door, away from her, away from memories. She took a step to follow him, to get him to help. Lance’s hand on her arms stopped her.

      “Let it go.” He released her arm. “Let him have his memories. That church has been empty for years. It isn’t all you have of your mom.”

      “I know it isn’t. It’s about more than her memory. It’s about Jeremy’s anger at a building. It’s about…” She sighed. It was about her mom.

      “Yeah, it’s about that building. Everyone in town is talking about it. They all have a reason they think it shouldn’t be torn down, Beth. The truth is, they could have done something to save it.”

      Beth watched her dad walk across the driveway to the house and then she turned to face a man who had been a second father to her. Lance was her mother’s second cousin somehow twice removed. He’d taught her to come home strong after the third barrel, to not be afraid as she rushed toward the gate. He’d taught her to rope a calf. He’d taught her to let go of pain. He’d tried to keep her in church, having faith.

      “I don’t have anything to remember her by, Lance. Everything is boxed up and hidden. Her pictures, her jewelry, and even the quilts she made. He boxed it all up. I don’t know if he burned it, gave it away or threw it in the Dumpster.”

      “He shouldn’t have done that. Sometimes a person hurts so bad they don’t know what else to do. They box up the pain and I guess your daddy boxed up his memories right along with it.”

      “She loved that church.”

      “She sure did. And she loved her family. She’d want those memories unboxed.” Lance untied the horse and led him down the aisle of the barn. A horse whinnied from somewhere in the distance. The gelding, Bob, whinnied a reply.

      It had been years since Beth thought about the day her dad had started packing everything into boxes. He’d been crazy with grief, pulling pictures off the walls, yanking quilts off beds. Everything that reminded him of Elena Bradshaw had been packed up and hauled off while Beth cried and Jason stoically helped their father.

      Lance placed a strong hand on her shoulder.

      “I’ll feed this horse for you. I think it’s about time you talked to Buck about the box she left you. It’s yours, Beth. She’d want you to have it.” He put the horse in a stall and latched the gate. “And you know this horse isn’t ready for Tulsa.”

      She nodded, still fighting tears, still fighting mad that everyone else always seemed to have answers, to be in control, and she always seemed to be fighting to be strong.

      It was a fight she planned to win.

      “Yeah, I know.”

      “Go talk to your dad.”

      She walked out of the barn and across the dusty driveway toward the house. A lone figure in the garden bent over tomato plants that were just starting to flower. She stopped at the edge of the garden.

      “I’m not going to help you save that church.” He bent to pick a few weeds.

      “I’m not here to talk about the church. I’d like the box my mother left for me.” She shoved her hands in her pockets, no longer brave. The deep breath she took did nothing to calm nerves that were strung tight. “If you don’t mind.”

      Her dad turned. He stood straight, his hat tipped back. He was tall and broad, his skin weathered by sun and time but he was still strong.

      “What brought that up?” her father asked.

      Beth had imagined anger, not a question like that. She didn’t really have an answer. “I think it’s time. I want to have something to remember Mom by.”

      “It’s just a box of stuff.” He shrugged. “I’ll bring it down from the attic.”

      She wanted to rush forward and hug him, but he turned back to the tomato plants. She’d won the battle but it didn’t feel like a victory. She whispered “thank you” and her dad nodded. After a few seconds she walked away.

      As she entered the house, she remembered the day her mother had sat them down in the living room and explained that she had taken her last treatment. The memory was followed by one of the day they took Elena off life support.

      Beth stood in the living room for several minutes and then she walked back out the front door. She pulled keys out of her pocket and headed across the yard to the garage and her truck. It was starting to make sense, why Jeremy would want to do this. Even if she didn’t want him to, maybe she understood. Her dad had shoved his pain into boxes and stored them in the attic. She’d run away. Jeremy needed to see that church gone.

      As much as she understood, she still planned on finding a way to stop him.

      The police station was a long, rectangular building with metal siding that looked more like a forgotten convenience store. In an area like this, they didn’t need much for a police station. The occasional robbery, traffic violation or intoxicated driver, those were the extent of the crimes. His mom had probably committed each one, more than once.

      Jeremy pulled his truck into a parking СКАЧАТЬ