A Cowboy's Heart. Brenda Minton

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СКАЧАТЬ 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 figure out her next move. She turned, facing Brian and Clint with a smile that felt strong. But eye contact with Clint wasn’t helping her feel strong. It was the way his lips quirked in a half grin and lines crinkled around his eyes.

      He had a toothpaste-commercial smile that could make a girl dream of moonlit nights and roses. She no longer had those dreams.

      “Where are the boys?” Neutral ground that felt safe, safer than holding his gaze.

      “Janie is fixing them grilled cheese for supper, after she’s already filled them up with cookies.” He leaned to hold the dummy for Brian. “We’re going to the chili supper and carnival at church tonight.”

      “Yes, she told me. That’s a good way to distract the boys. The next few days are going to be hard for them.”

      “She told me you’re not going.”

      She wondered if he understood what it meant to invade someone’s personal space. It wasn’t always done physically. Sometimes it was done emotionally, with nosy questions and interference. Maybe he didn’t care?

      “No, I’m not going.”

      “Because…”

      She stepped away from him. “Because I don’t like chili.”

      Because she didn’t like crowded places with too many conversations, explanations for people who talked in quiet tones, and curious glances from those who saw the hearing aids.

      She loved bull riding, where people respected her and curiosity didn’t matter, because she had proven herself. She loved her non-hearing friends in Tulsa, because with them she could be herself.

      He didn’t appear to be giving up. He had stepped closer and wore a persuasive half grin. She remembered him smiling like that when she’d been thirteen and he’d only been a year or so older. She had dreamed of that smile for a long, long time, wondering what it would be like to fall in love with a cowboy.

      She shook off the old memories and listened to what he was saying now. Now, sixteen years and several rejections later, her heart had been broken so many times it was held together with duct tape.

      “Everyone likes chili. Or at least they like it when they know there will be dozens of desserts, and the money is going to help the church youth group.”

      Willow liked arguing less than she liked chili. Worse than that, she disliked the feeling that someone was trying to make plans for her. “I’m not going, Clint. I’ll give you a check for the youth group.”

      “Willow, I wasn’t trying…”

      She sighed, because she knew that he wasn’t trying, that he hadn’t intended to take over. “I know you weren’t. Have a good time tonight. Make sure you guys close up and turn off the lights when you’re done in here.”

      Clint reached for her arm, and she knew he wanted to say more. He didn’t. Instead he smiled and let his hand drop to his side, like he understood.

      As she walked across the drive to the house she saw the boys through the window. They were so young, and so brave. Their mother was brave.

      The warm smell of grilled cheese and fresh coffee greeted her as she walked through the door of the house. She kicked off her boots and headed for the kitchen, stockinged feet on hardwood.

      The boys looked up from cups of tomato soup, red liquid dripping from their chins. She smiled, but she wanted to hug them tight. The little one, David, not Davie, gave her a tremulous smile that threaded its way into her heart. The bigger of the two, Timmy, just frowned.

      “I heard that the two of you had cookies. Were they good?” Willow kneeled next to the table, putting herself at eye level with the two children.

      They nodded and both took another bite of their sandwiches, dripping cheese as they pulled the bread away. Grilled cheese and tomato soup, Aunt Janie’s cure for everything, including broken hearts.

      “Want something…” Janie’s words faded out as she moved away.

      Willow turned, shooting her aunt a questioning gaze. The words had blended with the radio and the dishwasher’s low rumble.

      “I’m sorry, Willow. Do you want to eat, or are you going with us?”

      “I’ll eat with the boys.” Willow smiled at the two and stood up, her legs protesting her squatting next to the table.

      “The boys are going with us.” Janie smiled. “But they don’t like chili.”

      “I don’t blame them.”

      Janie frowned. “It isn’t chili you’re avoiding, it’s people.”

      “And lectures.”

      Janie wiped wet hands on a kitchen towel, her frown growing. “Willow, are you okay?”

      “Of course I am.”

      The house vibrated with footsteps, heavy steps. Willow turned as Clint walked into the room, his wide smile directed at the boys.

      Janie handed her a bowl, and Willow turned toward the table. Clint had taken a seat with the boys. He had a glass of iced tea and a cookie.

      “You have a cow that’s about to have a calf,” he said after taking a drink of his tea.

      “I know. I’ve been checking on her every few hours.”

      “Is this her first calf?”

      “Second.”

      “She’s young.”

      Willow exhaled and pretended she didn’t have an answer for that. He set his glass down and she looked up, knowing he wasn’t going to let it go.

      “Yes, she’s young. The first time she got into the wrong pen.” She wouldn’t go further, not with two little boys at the table.

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