The Cowboy's Reunited Family

For another few minutes she watched him in the chair, stretched out, his eyes shut, his breathing growing deep. Finally she walked away.

When she returned with the water, Blake was asleep. She pulled an afghan off the back of the sofa and draped it over him. She hesitated for a moment and then touched his cheek.

Oh, she was sorry, so very sorry. But she knew he wouldn’t believe her. He would believe that she had needed his help for Lindsey’s sake. He might even believe that she’d fallen on hard times and that had forced her to come running back to him. But would he ever believe how much she regretted leaving?

She moved her hand and shifted her attention from Blake to their daughter. She watched the easy breaths of a deep sleep. Jana had always watched Lindsey breathe. Moms did that. She was sure they all did. But in the past year she’d watched for different reasons. Because she needed to know that her daughter would take that next breath.

She’d spent a lot of time praying. For her daughter, for herself. She’d prayed about coming back to Dawson because she’d known that showing up in Oklahoma had several possible outcomes. Her biggest fear had been that Blake would have her arrested and she wouldn’t be able to watch over Lindsey.

She would have gone to jail. To keep Lindsey alive, she would have done anything, even that.

As Blake and Lindsey slept, she slipped out of the house, needing a moment to clear her head. She walked toward the barn. The dog, Sam, fell in beside her. The border collie raced ahead, found a stick and came back. Jana reached for the stick but Sam pulled away, unwilling to let her have his toy. The dog plopped to the ground, his paws holding the stick as he gnawed on it.

In the fields horses grazed. A few cattle dotted the far pasture. She stood at the corral fence watching a pony chomp on tufts of spring grass. She wasn’t sure, but she thought it might be the same pony Blake had bought Lindsey when she turned two. The little animal with the shaggy gray mane and darker gray coat looked up, watching her with an eager curiosity.

It chewed the last bite of grass and then ambled toward her. His dark eyes watched her, curious, intent.

“Billy Joe.” She remembered his name. His ears twitched, and he shoved his velvety nose at her, wanting attention.

Tears overflowed her eyes. Blake had kept the pony for ten years, waiting for his daughter to return. She reached through the fence and pulled the face of the pony close, breathing in his horse scent. She brushed the tears away. The pony slipped from her grasp, more interested in grazing the fresh shoots of spring grass.