A Cowboy's Heart

A few minutes later they walked out the door. The sun was peeking out from behind clouds, and the rain had slowed to a mist. The breeze caught the sweet scent of wild roses, and it felt good to be home.

The dog, Bell, ran from the barn and circled them, stopping right in front of Willow before rolling over to have her belly rubbed. Willow leaned to pet the animal and then she turned her attention back to him.

“So, what did you need to talk about?”

“My nephews.”

“You have nephews?”

“Twins, they’re four years old.” He stopped, rubbing a shoulder that hurt like crazy, thanks to the rain and sleeping on the floor. “My sister is being sent to Iraq.”

“Clint, I’m sorry.” Her voice was soft, her accent something indiscernible with only a hint of Oklahoma.

“She wants me to take them while she’s gone.”

Her gaze drifted away from him, and she nodded. Shadows flickered in her eyes and he wondered what put them there? Him? The boys? Something from her own life? What made a woman like her give up everything and move to Oklahoma?

Maybe she’d found what she was looking for here, with Janie, and cattle? He could understand that. He’d lived in cities, small towns, and here, on land that had been in his family for nearly one hundred years. He preferred this place to any other.

“It won’t be easy,” she spoke in quiet tones, “for any of you.”

“No, it won’t. But I wanted to make sure it’s okay with you. Now there will be me and two little boys underfoot.”

She smiled. “Of course it’s okay. We’ll do whatever we can to help you out.”

“I appreciate that.” He headed for the barn, following her, and still wondering what had put the shadows in her eyes.

But he didn’t have time to think about it, to worry about it. He had to think about his dad, and now about Jenna and the boys.

Chapter Three

Clint walked through the halls of the nursing home, not at all soothed by the green walls that were probably meant to keep people calm. Even with his dad here and in bad health, Clint still felt like the kid that never knew what to expect. That came from years of conditioning. His dad had been the kind of drunk that could be happy and boisterous one minute, and angry enough to hurt someone the next.

As much as he wanted to convince himself that the past didn’t matter, it did. And forgiving mattered, too. Forgiving was something a person decided to do.

He’d made his decision a long time ago. He’d made his decision on his knees at the front of the little country church he’d gone to as a kid. He’d found faith, grabbing hold of promises that made sense when nothing else had.

But being back here brought back a ton of feelings, memories of being the kid in school who never had a new pair of jeans or a pair of shoes without holes. He’d always been the kid whose parents didn’t show up for programs or games.

He reminded himself that he wasn’t that kid. Not now. He had moved on. He had finished college. He had worked his way up in the sport of bull riding. He hadn’t made a lot of money, but at least he had something to show for his life.

His attention returned to the halls of the nursing home, sweet old people sitting in chairs next to the doors to their rooms, hoping that someone would stop and say hello. A few of them spoke, remembering him from a long time ago, or from his visit last week.

His own father sometimes remembered him, and sometimes didn’t.

“Well, there you are.” Today was a day his dad remembered.

“Dad, how are you?” Clint grabbed the handles of the wheel-chair and pushed his dad into the room.

“I didn’t say I wanted to come in here.”

“I don’t want to stand in the hall.” Clint sat on the bed with the quilted bedspread and raggedy stuffed elephant that one of Jenna’s boys had left for their granddad, even though their granddad rarely acknowledged their presence.

“So, did you find a job?” his dad quizzed as his trembling hand reached for a glass of water.

Clint picked up the glass and filled it from the pitcher on the table. He eased it into his dad’s hand. It was full and a little sloshed out. Clint wiped it up with a napkin and sat back down on the bed.

“I have a job. I’m a bull rider. And I’m going to work for Janie.”

“That old woman? Why would you work for her?”

Clint glanced out the small window that let in dim afternoon light shadowed by the dark clouds of another storm. He had to shrug off his dad’s comments, the same comments he’d always made about Janie.

There were questions Clint would like to ask now. Did his dad really dislike Janie, or was he just embarrassed that her money had put food on their table and clothes on their backs? He breathed deep and let go of the anger.

Too many years had gone by to remind his father of that time, and to hurt him with the truth that would have sounded like accusations. He stood and walked to the window. Behind him his dad coughed.

“I could use a drink.”

Clint shrugged but didn’t turn away from the window, and the view of someone’s hayfield. A tractor sat abandoned in the middle of the field, half the hay cut and the other half still standing. Something must have broken on the tractor. Not that it mattered. But for a moment he needed to think about something other than the past, and his dad still needing a drink, even with his liver failing.

“Where’s your sister? Is she home from school yet?”

His dad had slipped into the past, too.

Clint turned, shaking his head as he sat down on the bed. It was easy to forgive a man who was broken. The surprising thing was that he even felt compassion.

“Dad, Jenna is in Missouri. She’s going to Iraq.”

“Why would she do that?”

“She’s in the Army.” He took the water glass from his dad and set it on the table. “Dad, do you remember? Jenna is twenty-seven. She has two little boys.”

“She shouldn’t have had them without a father. She should have married that boy.”

“He didn’t ask.” Clint had to fight back a remaining shard of anger over that situation. The ramblings of an old man he could overlook. The past could be forgiven. His sister being hurt, that was something he still had to work on.

“What’s your sister going to do with those boys?”

“I’m going to take care of them.”

His dad laughed. “You? How are you going to take care of two little boys? Do you even have a job, other than working for Janie?”

“I’m helping her niece with the bucking bulls she raises.”

His dad’s eyes widened at that and then narrowed as he smiled. “Are you in love with her? I imagine she’s way out of your league.”

How could one conversation reduce him from grown man to a sixteen-year-old kid teaching the judge’s daughter to ride the horse she’d gotten for her birthday? Way out of your league must have been the statement that took him back.