Buy a Cowboy (9 page)

Baya rested his hand below her bit. “Let's get her put away and then get some supper, son.”

As they walked toward the barn, Bonnie felt her stomach fall away in sadness. The anger in her gave way to loneliness. Her children were leaving her one by one.

With his dark look, Baya stated plainly that he wouldn't back away from this course.

A small hand, all long fragile bones and tender skin slipped into hers. The windblown head leaned against her upper arm.

Bonnie slipped an arm around her oldest daughter, feeling love tighten around her heart. Later. She would deal with Baya later.

“I am so tired, Mom. I just want to sleep.”

“Well, eat first, little spider monkey.” Tears started to her eyes as she saw the weariness in the dirt-streaked face. She kissed the forehead. “Go take a shower. I got the curtain up today. I'll have everything on the table when you get back down. Don't lay down after the shower now. You'll never get up until morning if you do.”

Faith started up the staircase.

Bonnie went back to the kitchen. She set the little table in the breakfast room. Pausing with the plate halfway to the table she came to a decision. That it would help her save face was only half her reasoning.

She put the everyday dishes back and pulled the good service out to set the dining table in grand splendor. Under the chandelier, the dishes and silverware glowed. She put crystal goblets out on the snowy tablecloth. In the kitchen, she pulled out the good platters and bowls for when the food was done. Looking over the results, she smiled before running upstairs to slip into a simple cotton dress.

Daniel and Baya returned.

“Go get cleaned up you two. Be quick. We're having a celebration.” Bonnie's voice was cheerful but she wouldn't look at either of them.

Baya watched her warily.

Bonnie grinned to herself. He was expecting silence, anger or open hostilities—not this breezy cheerfulness. Pausing before starting up the stairway his frowning face obviously waited for her anger.

Instead, she continued lightly. “Please, wake up Hope. I would like her to enjoy this, too.” Bonnie shot a smile in his direction without actually looking at him.

~*~

The family settled under the light from the chandelier. The food smelled wonderful, and they bowed their heads to bless it.

The children—even Daniel—were subdued, and Faith was downright exhausted.

Hope, still groggy from her interrupted nap, was a little fretful.

Daniel sat close to Baya and watched his mother. “Mom.” Faith broke the silence. “What are we celebrating?'

Bonnie smiled with brittle politeness and turned her head to look directly at the young girl. “We have two new additions to our family.” She lifted the goblet of ginger ale punch. “Here's to the new pony.” She continued to smile at each of the children and skirted a glance past Baya.

Of the children, only Hope was unaware of the anger that still simmered beneath the surface of their mothers smiling veneer.

They all raised glasses and drank to the new pony.

“What is her name?” Bonnie asked Daniel.

Baya interrupted. “She'll have to have a new name—the old one isn't appropriate.”

Daniel giggled then shot a quick glance at his mother.

Her eyes narrowed, as she looked at Baya.

“Why is that?”

“We do not want the children using the name the former owners had given her.”

“And what name was that?” Bonnie's tart question was her way of telling him she would decide what her children would and would not use.

“Mom, he's right. We'll find another name.” Faith darted a glance back and forth between the two adults.

“Well, everyone else seems to know this name. What is it?”

“Painted−“

“No, Hope!” Her siblings shouted in unison.

The naughty word, a term for a female dog, tripped out of Hope's mouth. “That's what the man said. But Da…Baya says that's not a nice name.”

Bonnie gasped, swallowed hard and lifted a startled gaze to Baya's amused one.

He raised his ginger ale.

“I believe a new name is called for.” She agreed.

“It's Daniel's horse. He should name her.” Baya suggested.

She nodded an agreement. “I have a name in mind for the tractor.” The anger was still in her, but her voice was as steady as ever.

Baya stopped eating. “We name the equipment?”

She wrinkled her nose at him. “I think we should call it Cricket. It looks like a silver and blue one with its jumped up hind legs.”

Baya laughed.

Faith joined in. “You know, Mom, it wasn't that hard to drive. It was real slow, but it steers just like a bike. You just turn it this way or that.”

“Yes,” Bonnie said as she shifted her vegetables around the plate. “You are still too young to drive anything. It was dangerous.”

“We kept it in first gear so I could jump on if I was needed,” Baya said in a firm quiet voice. “All she had to do was maneuver it for one five mile stretch. I got out and made all of the turns for her. Ranch kids learn this stuff early. Faith needs to know how to drive, in case…well, in case.” In a softer tone he continued, “How old were you when you steered your first car?”

She searched his face silently for a long moment. “I was so frightened when I saw her,” she whispered.

“I know. On the other hand, you raised a wonderful girl. All the kids are brave and very smart.” He looked at each child.

Faith stared at him while holding a forkful of forgotten food. His praise was filling her, softening her sharp little features and shining from her silver gray eyes.

Daniel grinned at his mother, obviously agreeing with Baya. “I'm gonna drive the tractor, too. When Baya says I'm ready,” he bragged.

Hope, still looking smug from using her forbidden word, was stuffing mashed potatoes into her mouth.

“I'm proud of them.” The truth of the statement glowed in the gaze that held Bonnie's across the table. “To this family, smart, brave and strong.” He raised his goblet again.

“Hey, I need more juice.” Daniel grabbed the pitcher and slopped more on the table than in his glass.

Baya and Bonnie watched the growing stain, and then looked up at the same time. They began to chuckle.

She raised her glass to him.

“We have a ways to go,” she said softly

“Yeah.” He raised his eyebrows in humor. “But we have a cricket.”

Everyone dissolved in laughter.

6

The next morning Baya contemplated yesterday's events while lying in bed.

Sometimes, Bonnie was bossy, but she had been generous even in anger. He had helped clear the remains of the meal away and offered to help with the dishes even though his thigh had been aching.

She declined, pointedly polite, and put Daniel to loading the dishwasher, informing him he was old enough to do it himself if he was mature enough for his own horse.

Faith had left the table and gone straight to bed.

He'd walked stiffly up the stairs and peeked in to check on her. He smiled at the mountain of blankets she slept under.

That child could ride! That pinto had tried its best to get rid of her. With strength and verve she had pulled the horse's nose to her knee. After a few rounds of chasing tail, the pony had ungraciously accepted orders and started down the road.

Once the equipment was loaded, they'd followed the pair and caught up with them just before they turned onto the dirt road.

Baya had watched her carefully before going on past.

She had the horse on a controlled rein but was playing soft on the mouth, easing the pony along with legs and heels.

He'd been surprised by the way they had burst into view at the house; the last thing he had wanted was to get her mother wound up again.

He supposed Bonnie had every right to be upset but it wouldn't change the fact that things had to be done. He moved in the bed, trying to straighten his stiff joints and aching bones while listening for her footsteps on the stair and hoping he had dispelled the anger emanating from her.

His stomach growled. Out of sheer nervousness he had only had one helping the night before. He was use to piling on his wife's excellent cooking. He swung his legs over the bed as a thought shocked his body into motion.

He could cook! Why wait around for her to do it? He'd make his famous sawmill gravy. It would be a surprise for all of them.

~*~

The minute Bonnie opened her bedroom door, country music rolled loud and boisterous up the stairwell. Bonnie slipped down the back stairs and into the kitchen.

Baya was pulling biscuits out of the oven. White sauce was bubbling over the edges of an iron skillet and the delicious smell of food invaded her nostrils. He dumped the biscuits into a cloth-lined basket and whipped another dishcloth over them.

The song changed on the radio and her husband began humming in his raspy bass voice.

She just stared at him, torn between longing and anger. Her brain told her anger was useless, when he was right. But fear clutched at her emotions, trying to compete with the loss of control she was facing in her familiar life. She had been unhappy, but she knew what to expect from Ed. Now, she was too unsure and unsettled to trust the emotions she had based the changes in her life upon.
God
,
I have to keep trusting You.

Baya did a couple of kicking sidesteps she supposed had to do with line dancing and began stirring the sauce.

She backed silently out the door. Going back up the outside stairs, she pounded on the children's doors. Once they were up, she went into her room and dressed in faded blue jeans and a long-sleeved shirt before heading downstairs.

Baya had the children in the breakfast room and was pouring sausage gravy over their biscuits. He had sliced peaches in a bowl on the table and was serving them up beside the gravy.

He looked up as she walked through the door.

The look they exchanged sized up the other's mood and carefully adjusted their temperaments to accommodate.

Already, she was getting used to the man, and it appeared, he was getting used to her.

“This is nice,” Bonnie said with brittle brightness as she looked over the food. “I think I'll just go get the coffee.”

“I hope you don't mind.” Baya followed her into the kitchen. “I was starving this morning and just thought I'd give you a break from cooking.”

“I don't really know what kind of things you like. I guess I should have asked.” She took a sip of the coffee.

Baya turned her to look at him, but she stepped away from him. No words would have explained as clearly that she was still angry with him.

His hands dropped to his side. “I love your cooking. I love everything you've ever fed me. I was only trying to help you some.”

She glanced up at him quickly, trying to judge his sincerity. Turning her back, she looked across the valley again. “Thank you.” The words sounded stilted to her ears.

“Don't thank me, just come eat.”

She followed him into the breakfast parlor, where an argument was in progress.

“Not going to!” Daniel's voice was raised in anger. “I'll name her anything I want to!”

“Well, you haven't ridden her so you don't know what she's like. I did and I know she's a holy terror.”

“I will
not
call her Holy Terror!”

“What's going on here?”

Faith and Daniel began shouting at once.

“Quiet!” the deep voice roared. Silence settled over the table.

Bonnie breathed a sigh of relief.

Hope giggled and the pony's given name tripped out of her mouth again.

“Don't you say that again!” Bonnie moved to the tousled haired child. She took her face in her hand and turned up the stubborn chin to frown down at her little girl. “I never want to hear that word on your lips again. Do you understand?”

Hope's gaze rolled toward Baya.

He stared back at her with a little frown between his brows.

“Do you understand?” Bonnie glared.

“Yes,” Hope whispered. As her mother released her chin, Hope looked up at Baya with accusing, tear-drenched eyes.

“It's not her fault,” he began, his voice full of tenderness.

Bonnie turned on him in fury. “She knows what is and isn't allowed in this household. You can stop treating her like a baby. She's four years old
--
not an infant.”

His eyebrows rose. “Yes, ma'am,” he said, his tone not the least bit meek.

She sat down to eat.

Breakfast was silent for several minutes while the children looked at each other and grimaced.

Daniel began his dissertation on what to name the new pony. Soon the argument was in full swing again.

Faith wanted to name the pony.

Daniel refused, making it clear that Baya said he could name the animal, regardless of what his older sister thought.

“Maybe you could ride her some and get to know her. Then you could think up a name,” Bonnie's voice was gentle, reasonable.

“We could call her Phoebe,” Baya mouthed around his biscuit and gravy. Everyone looked at him. He swallowed and gave a negligent shrug of his shoulders. “It's the closest thing I can think of with those initials, P.B.”

The combating children stared at each other and grinned.

Daniel nodded his head. “I like that.”

“I do, too. Don't you think that is a good name, Mom?” Faith smiled at her mother.

Bonnie stiffened. It was ridiculous to feel this anger just because he came up with a name.

The children were waiting for her answer.

She paused as she saw the saucy look Hope was sending Baya.

At the end of the table Baya was smiling back at Hope as though they shared a secret.

Her heart twisted. She was losing the only thing that mattered, her family.