Yuletide Cowboy (2 page)

She didn't miss the troubled look that shadowed Chance's blue eyes. He shifted uncomfortably as if biding time while he searched for answers. Odd.

She decided to help him out. “Hey, guys, why don't y'all go back outside and play. I'll be out in just a minute. And don't run over any more visitors.”

“Okay, Momma,” Jack said solemnly. “You want ta come swing with us?” The question was his way of making up to Chance for knocking him down. A child's innocence.

Chance looked surprised and a little pleased. “I'll come watch you before I leave. First I need to talk to your mom.”

Jack nodded. “You promise?”

“I promise.”

Gavin stopped at the door, holding it open for his twin. “We'll be waitin'. Remember you promised.”

Chance smiled at her as they stampeded off but their singsong voices told her how much a promise meant to them.

“You've got good boys,” he said the minute the door closed.

“I think so. Rambunctious, but then that's just boys. So, I know you said you weren't preaching right now. But are you doing weddings? I know you did Wyatt and Amanda's. And my friend is really needing a preacher right now.”

He shook his head almost too quickly. “No. I'm not doing any pastoral duties right now.”

“I guess I didn't think about a pastor taking a vacation,” Lynn murmured, not exactly sure how to handle the information. “From what I've heard you're a dedicated man of the Lord. It's just one wedding and it would mean so much to her.”

“I'm sorry but I'm taking time off.”

He didn't say the words unkindly, but still the man act ed as if she'd just asked him to stand in front of an oncoming train. “Maybe if you met Stacy and Emmett. They are—”

“I'm sorry, I really am, but I'm taking time off right now,” he said and his tone firmly shut the door on that discussion.

Baffled, she was at a loss for words. The man wasn't thirty yet and he'd been a rodeo pastor for about four years—at least that was what she'd heard someone say down at the diner. And he'd seemed so content when she'd watched him at Wyatt's wedding. Maybe he just needed a rest. Pastors took time off, didn't they? She didn't know what else to say so she just waved a hand
to ward the lights. “Then, I guess that's a wrap. Thanks for bringing this by. I'll give Melody a call and find out who they're for.” She picked up her purse and strode to the door. The man had a right to do what he wanted, but his refusal, without even hearing Stacy's story, irritated her. Really fried her bacon, and that didn't happen often. After all, this was sweet Stacy she was talking about.

“Look, I'm sorry.”

She couldn't help hiking a brow at him. “I'm sure you are. Don't let it bother you. I'm sorry my boys accosted you.”

“They didn't mean to. I should have been watching out. It was a hard shot to my pride, that's for certain.” He held the door for her and she walked past him, more than a little aware of him as she went.

“I can lock up. You go ahead.”

He pulled his hat from his head and met her gaze full on. “Is it all right for me to go watch the boys swing for a minute like I promised?”

“Sure.” Some of her irritation at him eased as she watched him saunter off in the direction of the boys' shouts of laughter. Chance Turner might not want to pastor right now, but he'd promised her boys he'd watch them swing and he was doing just that.

Such a promise was worth more than most people could even fathom to a pair of boys who'd never had that from their dad.

Lynn didn't want to think about that though. She took a deep breath, walked to the side of the building and watched the looks on their little faces as Chance strode their way. When their eyes lit up she had to fight
the lump in her throat and a sudden flood of tears from a past that she had no intention of revisiting.

When the women's shelter in L.A. had burned she'd been thrilled that it had relocated to the sleepy ranching town of Mule Hollow, Texas. Here the cowboys and small-town folks had rallied around them and made a safe haven like nothing she'd ever dreamed of. Her little boys had been too young to remember the life they'd been living before she'd gotten them out. Here in Mule Hollow they had role model after role model of what real men were supposed to be like. Here her sons had the chance to grow up with loving, loyal, honest men and women surrounding them.

What they didn't have was a father. And they wouldn't. Lynn had already come to understand that falling in love wasn't an option she was willing to explore. The safest way to give her boys a good life was to keep it uncomplicated. Besides, she didn't have what it took to cross that line and start looking for love. To love meant to trust and trust wasn't in her anymore. Not trusting with her heart anyway.

But…Chance Turner was intriguing still.

Lynn's heart fluttered as her boys squealed in delight when he said something to them. The flutter just proved that she was still a woman who could appreciate a good-looking, nice man when she saw him. And Chance Turner was a nice man. He'd be nicer if he hadn't refused to perform Stacy's wedding.

Intriguing or not, he was just one more friendly cowboy that her boys could look up to. He was no different than Sheriff Brady Cannon or Deputy Zane Cantrell. Or Dan Dawson or any of the wonderful, Christian men
of the community who'd stepped up to be father figures for the kids at the women's shelter.

He spread his legs shoulder-width apart and locked his arms across his chest, watching Gavin and Jack.
Why was he not preaching?
The question niggled at the back of her mind. None of her business though, right?

Right!

“Okay, boys, it's time to hit the road,” she called. No use making Chance watch them swing for too long and no reason for her to stand here contemplating issues that had nothing to do with her…except she wished he would consider marrying Stacy and Emmett.
It's none of your business, Lynn.

“But, Momma—”

“No buts, young man,” she said to Gavin. “It's time to head home.” She suddenly wanted to grab the boys and hurry away before she opened her mouth and butted in where she shouldn't. The man had a right to preach or not preach. Besides, this was a traditional small-town church. Chance was a rodeo preacher. He moved along with the rodeo circuit, preaching and mentoring the cow boys who couldn't make it to church because of the rodeo's schedule. It was an honorable calling. She liked the idea of what he did…still, while he was here, couldn't he do one wedding?

What could that hurt?

Give it up, Lynn, the man made it clear he was taking time off.
Mouth shut, she headed toward her car. She had to bite her tongue again as Chance reached his truck and tipped his hat at her after telling her boys to have a great day.

“Momma, we like him,” Jack said the minute he climbed into the seat and buckled his seat belt.

“Yeah,” Gavin added, meeting her gaze in the rearview. “Maybe he can teach me how to bull ride.”

“There won't be any bull riding for you, mister.”

“Aw, Momma. I ain't gonna git myself kilt or anything. Chance ain't dead and neither is Bob or Trace.”

Bob Jacobs had been a bull fighter and Trace Crawford had ridden bulls, too. Both men had survived and many other cowboys around town had, too. Still the thought of her little boys growing up to be bull riders didn't sit well with her. “You concentrate on being a little boy and leave the bull riding to the men.”

“Aw, Momma, you ain't got to worry. Don'tcha know I'm gonna be the best there ever was.”

The hair at the back of her neck prickled but she decided the best thing for now was to let it go. The less said on this subject the better. At least she prayed that was so.

“Well, sugar baby, I think you're the best there ever was already.”

“What about me, Momma?” Jack asked.

She turned in her seat. “You know I'm talking about you, too. God must have thought I was pretty special to have blessed me with the two best boys in all of the world.”

“S
o how are you? Did you get settled into the stagecoach house all right?” Wyatt asked.

Chance hadn't wasted any time getting back to the ranch after his meeting with Lynn Perry and her twins. He'd just climbed into the saddle when Wyatt rode into the yard.

“I'm fine. And yes, I'm settled. How are you? You're looking good. And I'm happy to see you in the saddle again.”

Wyatt had insisted on saddling a horse and riding with him. Wyatt sitting in the saddle was a good thing to see, since less than six months ago after his plane crash he'd been relegated to a wheelchair.

Wyatt's lip hitched as he urged his horse forward. “I have the best physical therapist in the world.”

Wyatt's wife was his PT. They'd met when she'd come to help him recover. Chance had performed their wedding just a few months earlier and had never expected to be here now. “You don't look like you're doing all right,” Wyatt said, shooting Chance one of his penetrating looks. “So don't tell me you're fine. Look, Chance, I
know you feel responsible somehow for that bull rider's death but you know as well as I do that it's a profession full of risks.”

Perspiration beaded beneath the brim of his hat and his fingers clenched the reins too tightly. Willing himself to relax, Chance studied the flat pasture and welcomed the cold wind on his cheeks and the sting in his eyes. It gave him a barrier to the bitter chill that ran through him each time he thought of Randy. How could he sweat bullets and feel cold to the bone at the same time?
Guilt, that's how.
Gut-wrenching, soul-shredding guilt could make him sick as a dog it tore him up so bad.

“Talk to me, Chance.”

“I let him die. Nothing you can say will convince me that I didn't do what I should have done.”
I'm just not ready,
had been Randy's last words to Chance before he'd climbed over the rail and settled onto the bull's back. For the last five years Chance had held services every Sunday morning before a rodeo and then he'd stood on the platform with any cowboy who asked. Randy had wanted him there until a few weeks before his death. He'd stopped attending services and avoided him for weeks prior to his last ride. Instead of seeking Randy out, Chance had let other things distract him from going to Randy and showing his concern. Chance knew he was hanging with a rough crowd. He'd known Randy was in danger and yet he hadn't gone the extra mile to try and help him.

“Randy didn't give his life to the Lord. Never accepted the gift of salvation that Jesus offers every person.” Wyatt listened intently. “It haunts me.” Chance lowered
his head for a minute with the weight of the guilt. “I didn't step up when he needed me the most.”

“But you were there on his last ride.”

He jerked his head up. “Yeah, I was. But he still wasn't ready to commit. I don't know why he asked me that night. It's like he knew in his gut that his time was running out but he couldn't do it. I don't know, Wyatt. I have been over it and over it a thousand times in my mind and I can't figure out what I did wrong. I presented him with every verse and concept about salvation that I could come up with. And I always come up empty…and he always comes up dead. I can't shake knowing that I should have done more. At least stopped him from getting on that bull when I knew he might be doing drugs. It—”

“You can't hold yourself accountable for that.”

But he did, and the assortment of prescription drugs that had been found in Randy's gear only made it worse.

“I should have stepped in. Rumor had it that it he'd got ten hooked on painkillers after his shoulder injury. His eyes were glazed when I looked at him the moment be fore the gate opened. And I didn't say anything.”

Saying the words was hard for him. Chance knew that logically Randy's death wasn't his fault but that didn't change the way he felt.

“What could you have said? The ride was already in motion. You have to let it go, Chance. I'm telling you it's not your fault.” Wyatt's expression was etched with determination. That was Wyatt, always wanting to charge in and save the day. But not this time.

Chance gave a short shake of his head and stared into the distant horizon. He'd messed up. There was no way
to wash Randy's blood from his hands. “By omission I let that kid die both physically and spiritually. How am I supposed to live with that?”

“That isn't true,” Wyatt snapped, his eyes flashing.

“It isn't. You aren't a superhero. The kid was on drugs and he was avoiding you. I get that you hold yourself up to a higher standard, but come on, Chance, let it go.”

“I can't, Wyatt. And until I can come to terms with it, there's no way I can stand up in front of a bunch of cowboys or a congregation feeling the way I do. Knowing what I've done.”

 

“Lynn, you need to bid on a bachelor tomorrow night.”

Lynn looked up from the centerpiece she was arranging for one of the many tables set up in rows in the community center. Several ladies were scattered about decorating the room for tomorrow night's fundraiser for the women's shelter.

“I'm helping with the benefit, Norma Sue, but I'm not taking part. I've already told you that.”

Norma Sue Jenkins hooked her thumb around the strap of her ample overalls, tilted her kinky gray head to the side and grunted, “Hogwash.”

“Now, Norma, none of that,” Adela Ledbetter-Green admonished in a gentle voice that always made Lynn think of the sugar and spice and everything nice that little girls were made of. God's goodness and grace just radiated from her with a sincerity that made everyone around her feel happier just by being there. It was that loving, sweet spirit that could be misleading to some at times. Because within the elegant, almost fragile-look
ing form of Adela beat the strong heart of a woman of wisdom, unafraid to speak her mind and give advice and direction whenever she felt the need. Obviously she felt the need, and for that Lynn was grateful.

“Thank you,” Lynn said, more than glad to have her support.

Adela smiled and studied her with vibrant peacock-blue eyes. “Well, dear, I didn't say I didn't agree with Norma Sue. I do. I simply think she should be more tempered in her encouragement.”

And here Lynn had been thinking all these good thoughts about her!

“Honey, don't look at me so surprised. We just love you to death and want you to be happy.”

“I am happy. I just don't want to be pushed.” Not even by these ladies she loved so much. And she knew how they could push when they got it in their heads that a woman needed to be matched up and married off.

“There will be plenty of women here for y'all to mix and match without me.”

“But what about your boys?” Esther Mae Wilcox, their third partner in crime, huffed as she scooted from the table on the other side of Norma Sue. She wore a red velour warm-up suit that clashed totally with her bright, reddish-orange hair. “Don't you think it's time to at least go on
one
date?” At her impatient tone she glanced Adela's way. “Yes, I know I'm pushing when we said we were going to go at this nice and easy. But Adela, I just can't.” She hit Lynn with her green eyes.

“You were the strongest woman who climbed off that bus two years ago. You have jumped into life here in town with ease and have given your moral support and
encouragement to all the other women who have passed through the doors of No Place Like Home. You are al ways working to help others move forward with their lives and yet you don't.”

Lynn couldn't deny any of this. It was true. She'd at tended every class at the shelter on overcoming being a battered wife. Every class on coping. Every class under any name, anything that would help her be the woman she needed to be for her boys. She could tell others how to do it and she could help her friends when they needed her. Outwardly she seemed to have her act together and so everyone assumed she did. “Esther Mae, I just moved my boys into their very own home. That's moving forward. I'm happy. I'm content and I'm not bidding on a bachelor.”

“Did I hear you say you weren't bidding?” Lacy Brown Matlock asked, coming up behind Lynn. The hugely pregnant hair stylist pulled out a chair beside Lynn and eased down into it. “I'm telling y'all that the doc says this little gal of mine is coming no sooner than two weeks out, but mark my word it'll be sooner rather than later. This baby has a mind of her own and is trying to kick her way out right now!”

Relieved to have someone else join in the conversation, Lynn chuckled. “She's independent like her mom ma.” And they didn't come any more independent than Lacy. She'd moved to Mule Hollow after reading the matchmakers' ad in the newspaper. Just like that, the spunky blonde had followed her heart, determined that if women answered the ad for wives they would not only need their hair and nails done to catch their men, but also they just might need the Lord. Lynn had arrived
at the shelter, spirit verging on broken, and gained much inspiration from Lacy. She also knew that Lacy was as much a cupid as the other three ladies. “
Independent
is the truth,” Norma Sue echoed. “I have a feeling Lacy's baby girl is going to hit the ground running.”

Esther Mae grinned. “None of us will be able to keep up with the live wire she's destined to be.”

“Lacy will,” Adela added, reaching across to pat Lacy's arm. “You do look tired though.”

She did. Lynn could see fatigue in the high-octane blue of Lacy's eyes. She was glad for the distraction from the subject of Chance, but she wished Lacy didn't look so weary. “Are you sleeping?”

Lacy waved a cherry-pink-tipped hand. “Sleep, what's that? I gave that up weeks ago.” She laughed good-naturedly. “Clint says the baby is taking after me with its impetuous nature. We never know when she's going to settle down and when she's not. If I knew, then maybe I'd get some sleep. But when I lay down—at night or even for a little nap—she starts kicking.”

“How's Clint holding up?” Lynn liked Clint. The hard-working cattleman sometimes looked at a loss for the things his wife came up with, but there was always a glowing admiration and love in his eyes…even though she'd seen a time or two when he was exasperated. Lacy tended to do that to people though. She got so caught up in what she envisioned for couples that she often acted before thinking things through. Despite that, he loved her…or actually, from what Lynn observed, he loved her because of it. Lynn wouldn't know what that was like. In her marriage she'd learned, slowly, not to
voice her opinion, much less make an impulsive move. It had happened over time, practically sneaking up on her. The mental abuse started long before the beatings had occurred.

“Lynn, so you aren't going to bid?”

Lacy's words pelted through the fog of memory like buckshot. “No. I'm not.” She braced herself for Lacy to jump on the bandwagon.

“Too bad. I've been praying God would lead the right man to town for you and your boys.” Lacy rubbed her extended belly and took a long breath.

“Lacy, you look really tired,” Lynn said, concerned.

“Why don't you call it a night?” Norma Sue called out. “You're standing on your feet too much.”

Lacy gave a smile—not her normally exuberant one but a smile nonetheless. “You've been talking to Sheri! I sit down when I need to—”

“Ha!” Sheri exclaimed from her perch on a ladder across the room. She cocked her spiky brown head to the side and looked down from where she'd been tacking up red-and-blue bandanna decorations. “You lie, Lacy Matlock! You don't sit down nearly as much as you should. If it were up to me I'd hog-tie you to a couch and make you stay there till our baby comes.”

Lacy laughed. “Okay, okay, I get it. I've promised Clint that I'm going to start taking it easy so y'all relax and let me talk to Lynn.” Lacy's eyes twinkled like they usually did when she was inspired. “You should bid on Chance. If not for yourself then for him. The man could use some distraction, I think. And you and your sweet boys might just be what the doc upstairs has in mind for him.”

Inwardly Lynn groaned as all eyes returned to her. Lacy, the sneak, was trying to turn the tables on her. “I'm not bidding on Chance or anyone else…”

 

Chance pulled into a parking space in front of Sam's Diner and got out of the truck. There was no way he could come home and not drop by for breakfast at Sam's. His cousins' trucks were lined up along the plank sidewalk and he knew he was running late. Hurrying, he pushed open the diner's heavy swinging door to find Lynn Perry standing on the other side. She was carrying a stack of carryout boxes and coffee in a paper cup. When she saw him she stopped in her tracks.

For a little while the day before, he'd rolled over their meeting in his head, and for the life of him he couldn't stop thinking about her. There was something about her that had edged under his collar and wouldn't let go. She was pretty, with her dark hair and shimmering midnight eyes, but he'd sensed a tough girl underneath her soft image. A tough girl determined to make it for herself and her boys. He liked that.

But she had a keep-your-distance wall erected around her and it was firmly in place right now, even though she was smiling at him.

He tipped his hat and gave her his best smile. “How are you this morning?”

“Great. How are you? I hope you didn't have any lingering aches and pains from yesterday. The boys really didn't mean to lay you out like that.”

“I'm fine. Don't worry about me. I've been thrown from horses and bulls that make being taken out by two pint-sized four-year-olds a piece of cake.”

She flinched prettily. “It still had to hurt, but I'm glad to see you aren't limping.”

“Like I said before, only my pride was hurt.”