The Accidental Bride (19 page)

When he returned, Shay jerked the glass from him, sloshing water on the sofa. While she downed the pills, he fetched an ice bag from the freezer.

He returned and dropped the bag in her lap. “Prop your foot and ice it. I'll be back.”

She glared, her eyes glossy, her breathing labored. “I can hardly wait.”

Travis went outside and unloaded the bull. The Hereford didn't seem so stubborn after dealing with Shay. Travis didn't have to throw it over his shoulder or tiptoe around its pride. When the bull was penned, Travis latched the gate, then unsaddled Buck and Brandy.

Why hadn't she just called? He'd have been happy to retrieve the bull. He wondered how she'd even hitched the trailer. Probably took her ten times as long as it should've.

His stomach rumbled as he closed the stall door. He headed toward the house, grabbing Shay's crutches and her hat that had fallen when he'd tossed her over his shoulder. Hopefully she'd cooled her heels, but knowing Shay, she was in there stewing. She'd been on the verge of tears when he left. He'd thought they were angry tears, but now he wondered if she'd been hurting.

He entered through the front, letting the screen door fall in place behind him. Shay was lying on the sofa, tucked into the space between the seat and back. Her splinted foot rested on the sofa's arm, the bag of ice balanced precariously on top. Her chest rose and fell with deep, peaceful breaths. Her face was relaxed in sleep, her lips slightly parted. Long dark lashes fanned the tops of her cheeks.

Seeing her now, all soft and vulnerable, he could hardly believe she was the same she-cat he'd just hauled into the house. She looked gentle as a lamb, harmless as a dove.

His heart stirred with a yearning desire. Desire to protect her, desire to hold her and love her.
Please, God, someday. I know I'll have
to earn her trust. I'll be as patient as I need to be, only please let her know
how much I love her
.

Judging by today, he had miles to go. He eyed the sliver of space on the edge of the sofa. He longed to stretch out beside her, curl her body into his, and hold her against him for the rest of the afternoon. His arms ached with the longing. He was her husband, and she was his wife. They were married.

Yet he had no right. He had no doubt she'd set him straight on that if he tried.

He sighed, too loud. She moved in her sleep, crossing her arms against the air-conditioned room. Travis grabbed the blanket that was draped over his guitar case and set it carefully over her, drawing it to her shoulders.

Her hand peeked out from the top, and his eyes caught on the flimsy gold wedding band. He wanted to wrestle the ring from her finger. Every time he saw it, he thought about her marriage to Garrett. She was married to
him
now.

He wondered what her relationship with her husband had been like. Wondered how the man could've left so much behind . . . a beautiful wife and daughter. Shay must've been devastated. Was likely leery of men in general, and Travis wasn't exactly faultless in that.

But he wasn't fool enough to make that mistake twice. He wanted so much more than five months' room and board. He wanted to help her heal, to fix all the broken parts.

Show me how to love her, God. Give me patience
.

Travis watched her slumber, remembering the fight she'd given him just minutes before, and knew he might have to reach real deep for enough patience to win Shay's heart.

22

T
he next Saturday Shay and Olivia accompanied Travis into town for supplies.

When they reached town, Olivia saw a schoolmate headed into the Tin Roof. Travis gave her money for a milk shake, and she scampered off to the diner. Travis needed some things from Timberline Hardware, so Shay went to visit with Miss Lucy at the Doll House. The store was busy with tourists popping in every few minutes, but she was glad to see business going well for her elderly friend.

After leaving the shop, Shay stopped at Mocha Moose and chewed the fat with Tina and a few other neighbors. The smell of brewed coffee tickled her senses, and the loud espresso machine whirred to life every few seconds as tourists and locals placed orders.

Figuring Travis must be about finished, Shay made her way out the door and onto the boarded walk. She began to realize how foolish she'd been to order a to-go cup as she tried to juggle the crutches and the coffee. Thank God the truck was close. The coffee sloshed through the lid, and she felt the hot liquid through her jeans.

“Howdy, Shay.” Beau stepped out of the Hair Barn, replacing his hat. “Let me get that for you.”

She was wary after their run-in at church, but her armpit was killing her, and she was going to lose half her coffee getting to the truck.

“Thanks.” She handed over the cup. “Don't know what I was thinking, getting coffee. I'm headed that way.” She nodded her chin toward the truck, parked diagonally in front of the hardware store.

“Glad I ran into you,” he said. “I owe you an apology for Sunday.” Sincerity shone in his brown eyes, and the chagrined smile he wore reminded her why she liked him.

“That's all right—this was sudden. I can see why you're confused.”

They'd reached the truck, and he passed her to get the passenger door.

“Well, anyhow, I do wish you the best, you know. You're a great gal. McCoy's a lucky man.”

As she navigated the curb, Shay's crutch caught on something. She'd already begun her swing forward, and her weight was on a crutch that had found no hold. Her arms buckled.

“Shay!” Beau reached out, but not in time to stop her fall.

She landed awkwardly on her rear end between the vehicles.

A dazed second later she felt the damage. Her backside would have a heck of a bruise, but her foot wasn't banged up. There was no pain radiating up her leg. She pulled her palms off the ground to dust away the bits of gravel and opened her mouth to assure Beau she was fine.

But just then a body flew past. A rush of air smacked her face as Travis grabbed Beau by the shirt and shoved him into the side of the truck. The coffee went flying.

“What'd you do, Meyers?” Travis slacked his hold long enough to allow another shove into the cab. “What's wrong, can't take on a man? Get your thrills outta—”

“Stop, Travis!” Shay tried to stand but couldn't find a hold.

Beau pushed back, to no avail. “Get your hands off me, McCoy!”

“It was an accident.” She grabbed the fender and pulled to her feet. “I fell, that's all.”

Travis glanced at her. She could see the wheels turning. His face was as hard as stone, his lips pressed into a taut line.

“I tripped over the wheel stop.” She gestured toward the block, hobbling on one foot. “Beau was helping me to the truck, carrying my coffee.” The empty cup rolled in the wind toward the street. “Which is gone now, thanks to you.”

Travis's hands were still clenched around a wad of Beau's shirt, his knuckles gone white.

“Get off me.” Beau shoved Travis away, his nostrils flaring.

Travis loosened his grip and his hands dropped to his sides. His shoulders heaved, his jaw twitched.

Men
. Shay would've whacked him over the head with her crutch, except it was out of reach.

Beau straightened his shirt. “You need to simmer down, pal.”

Travis retrieved Shay's crutches and handed them over. “You okay?”

She snatched the crutches, glaring at him as Beau went to fetch the empty cup.

“You owe him an apology.”

Travis glanced at Beau, who'd collected the cup and was now retrieving his hat from the pavement. Then he looked back at her, his jaw picking up slack.

She frowned at him, but he'd noticed the crowd of tourists gathered on the sidewalk.

“Show's over.” He waved them away. “Go on . . . scat.”

They began dispersing as Beau approached, donning his hat. He looked at Shay. “Sure you're okay?”

“I'm fine.” She shot Travis a look, then returned her attention to Beau. “Thank you for your help.”

He tipped his hat, gave Travis a look that said plenty, and turned toward his own vehicle. He dropped the empty cup in a trash barrel as he passed.

Shay jabbed Travis in the ribs.

He pressed his lips together like he was swallowing a sour worm. “Meyers,” he finally called.

Beau turned, shoulders back, wearing a scowl.

Shay thought she was going to have to jab Travis again before he spoke. “Sorry for the misunderstanding.”

Beau sized him up for a full five seconds, then he nodded once and continued on his way.

When Travis recovered from his distasteful task, he took Shay's arm.

She elbowed him away. “I can do it myself.” She was beginning to remember why she'd sworn off men to begin with.

23

J
uly galloped into August, arriving hotter and drier than the previous month. From the windows, Shay watched the grass fade from dewy green to brittle brown. The school bus arrived early one August morning to usher Olivia off to her first day of seventh grade.

Each week on their way to church, Shay noted the streams getting lower until soon they were dried gullies, winding through meadows like gray-brown snakes, the dirt cracking and splintering under the brutal sun.

Travis drove the cattle into the hills and cut the bulls from the cows—a hot, tiring job, the bulls fighting amongst themselves like a bunch of high school boys. He found and treated two cases of pneumonia, and both cows were now on the mend.

Shay hated to admit it, but he managed the ranch well in her absence.

Abigail drove her to the clinic at the six-week mark. Shay fairly itched with the desire to be back in the saddle. But instead, Dr. Garvin prescribed another week on crutches.

She stuffed her disappointment and took her medicine with a minimal amount of grumbling. After all, she'd asked for it. She'd expected Travis to point that out, had almost dared him to when she told him the news at supper that night. But maybe he was smarter than she gave him credit for. He'd assured her he and Olivia could handle things until she was back on her feet.

Olivia seconded the thought enthusiastically, and Shay didn't miss the chummy look that passed between the two of them. They'd developed a camaraderie, working together. Sometimes she caught Travis ruffling Olivia's hair or patiently answering her questions, and she wondered if they were growing too close.

One night Shay heard the quiet murmur of his voice, punctuated by Olivia's giggles. She shuffled across the living room and listened around the corner.

He was reading aloud to her, imitating each character's voice. Shay listened to his falsetto, a grin tugging her lips at the incongruity of a cowboy reading
The Princess Diaries
.

Still, it was bittersweet, because bedtime stories were Daddy territory, and Olivia was eating it up. Shay listened until her foot protested, then she returned to her room, heaviness weighing her steps.

A month and a half into their arrangement, and Travis had fit right into their little family. He sometimes fixed breakfast on Saturday mornings. He often grilled out on Sunday afternoons. He kept up her ranch, managed his dad's books, and checked in with Jacob on the day-to-day operations of the Barr M. He took Olivia grocery shopping on Sunday evenings and saw to it there was money in the account for bills. All without a whisper of complaint.

Anyone looking in from the outside would think it was real, this little family. If Shay let herself, she'd believe it too. Already she wondered if Olivia had forgotten this was a short-term arrangement. That Travis would be leaving before Thanksgiving, and then it would be just the two of them again.

The thought set a hollow spot in her middle, but she denied it had anything to do with feelings for Travis. It was a matter of habit. She'd gotten accustomed to having him around, having his help. It was just going to be harder when he left.

Harder to work the ranch, harder to pay the bills. At least she'd have a little extra income in the spring. Manny had spoken to Hank Peterson, and he had offered her a part-time job starting in April. She'd be too busy and tired to notice Travis was gone.

Monday, August thirteenth, marked the seventh week since she'd broken her foot and also her birthday. She couldn't think of anything she wanted more than the freedom to walk unaided.

Abigail drove her to see Dr. Garvin again, and this time he gave her permission to burn her crutches. Tempting as it was, she returned them for the next unfortunate victim and walked gingerly to Abigail's car, beaming from ear to ear.

“You look like you won a million bucks,” Abigail said, turning out onto Main Street.

“Happy birthday to me!” Shay sang. “I can drive, I can walk, I can ride, I can take a bath! I cannot wait to soak in the tub again! I can feed my own horses, clean out my own barn, ride my own circle . . .”

“Never saw anyone so eager to get back to work. Or maybe you're eager for time in the saddle with a certain cowboy.”